From the time he was a small boy he never knew his father and his mother to be affectionate. Valos was not known for being anything other than a stern and domineering knight. Vaili was not reserved, precisely, but the worst that she would manage in public was a pet name that always made Valos' face tighten. He could not remember now what it had been. There was the time he caught them together at carnival. He'd just savaged Tenson in the games, beaten about the head with a wooden sword until the boy had surrendered weeping, and he'd gone to find Valos. Tell him of this great victory of children. They'd been sitting on the edge of a wagon, with straw in their hair, and Valos was grinning as foolish as a man ever had. Vaili's face was red as a rose. Valos had promptly stopped grinning, and kissing his wife's neck. He was not complimentary, upon finding out why Eragos had arrived as he had.
Looking back now, Eragos thought he understood his father's sense of shame. Such private moments were rare, and more special because of what they meant. Vaili had talked endlessly of meeting his father later one night, when she'd played the flute and he'd tested his new baritone. An awful singing voice, Vaili said, despite the fact that Valos had belonged to the temple choir in his youth. Eragos' mother had tapped his nose just then, and told him to say nothing of it to Valos, lest Valos strap him for mentioning it. There were a thousand things that troubled Sir Valos Feareborne, Lord of the North, and this she'd said with another private laugh. Eragos thougth he knew now. Pretended dignity had led to love, to the jest of love, and to something deeper still. All those glimpses of another world he'd seen as a child only just coming into focus now.
How strange to think that he would come to understand his father only now, when both father and mother were dead, and Eragos was contemplating the destruction of his line. Valos had never told him how to feel about girls, or later women, and Vaili had only laughed in his face when he'd asked. Yet they were just as instructive. Father always polished mother's armor, regardless of the circumstances. Mother always hemmed father's trousers, without Valos saying a word. These were the acts of true significance. A touch upon the cheek, or a shared bottle of wine as spring broke over the hills, or Vaili's delighted laughter whenever Valos grew jealous. These were the things that Eragos remembered now. These were some of the final lessons his parents would ever teach him. And some of the first. He understood at last.
Now that he ... shared something of that feeling himself.
She had such terrible anger in her, Eithne Savastian. Eragos did not think that anger could carry you through anything. Not any longer. Yet it was a start, and he knew her better than anyone, because he had the same fire in his belly.