Ranvir hesitated outside his parent’s home. Inside, he could hear Frija babbling as Gunnor worked on the table design she’d drawn. The occasional rustle of paper from Ranvir’s old room spoke of Vasso retreating into his stories. Similarly, the scrape of metal from the forge told of Frey turning to her own work for solace.

He knew what would happen once he opened the door, and he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted the children to see. He rubbed at his face, turning to look at Esmund.

“What’s up?” he asked, lazing the shadows.

Ranvir opened his mouth to ask him to take Frija and Vasso away again. “I’m not sure what to do.” Ranvir hesitated, frowning as his genuine concern slipped past the prepared statement. “I don’t want Frija and Vasso to see what’s going to happen.”

“Why not?”

Grimacing, Ranvir said, “I don’t want them to see that side of me.”

“Is it violent?”

Ranvir hesitated, but shook his head.

“Angry?”

“No.”

“Destructive?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you want them to see?”

Ranvir’s face pinched. Inside, he roiled with anxious reds and tumultuous embarrassing pinks. “I don’t want them to think less of me.”

“And why would they think less of you?”

Ranvir gave him a deadpan glare. “You know how mom handled this shit,” he said.

“And is that embarrassing? Does it make you lesser?”

Ranvir ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. He spoke multiple times, but never got further than a few syllables.

“Do you think it will help the children to see their father solve conflict in a calm and tested method?”

“You were not this calm when I left,” Ranvir said.

“A lot can happen,” Es said, pushing off the wall. “A lot has happened.” He approached Ranvir and clasped his shoulder. “What are you afraid of?”

“I went off on Dad,” Ranvir said, looking toward the long since dissipated storm. “Really off. I didn’t mean to… he just got under my skin. I don’t want them to think of me like that.”

“Every parent wants to be perfect in the eyes of their children,” Esmund said. He spoke with more solemnity than Ranvir’d thought him capable of. He really had changed in the time they’d been apart. “But people aren’t perfect. They won’t think less of you for reconciling with Gunnor.”

Ranvir closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment. “Thank you, Es,” he said, pulling his best friend into a hug.

“Whoa,” Esmund said, but didn’t pull away.

They parted, and Ranvir knocked on the door before stepping inside. His dad was kneeling on the floor, chisel in hand, and working on the lines of Frija’s drawing. It depicted a small oblong circular object in the center, from which irregular ripples emerged and pressed into and then well beyond the limits of her assigned space. Though, Granddad kept to the assigned area. Frija was carefully supervising the efforts, only occasionally stepping on his fingers, as she walked across the table.

They both looked up as Ranvir entered. Gunnor straightened as Frija ran over. Ranvir lifted her into his arms. “What happened to your feet?” he asked, pulling her foot out to show the charcoal smeared soles.

“Oops!” she said, giggling adorably and burrowing her head into his neck.

Frey opened the door to her workshop. “Come,” she said, waving to the master bedroom, before hopping over herself.

“Alright, Firehearth,” Ranvir said, putting Frija down. “You go make sure Granddad’s work is good.”

She looked from him to his parents, which were both walking disappearing into their room. “Okay…”

Frija didn’t understand what was happening, but she knew something was happening. “Do you want me to get Vasso?” he asked, remaining in a crouch.

“It’s okay,” she patted his head gently. “I’ll check,” she waddled off, leaving a sooty trail on the floor as she reached the table. Any other time of the year, and it would be too cold to take her shoes off.

Vasso peeked out of the bedroom just as Ranvir left the living room. “I heard something happened,” he whispered.

“We’re working some things out,” Ranvir said, waving him away.

Vasso nodded, and after a moment, stepped into the living room. Ranvir closed the door and turned. “Da—“

“No talking,” Frey demanded.

Ranvir nodded and approached the bed where they both sat. As he did, both Vasso and Frija pressed ears to the door.

“Hands,” she said, her demeanor still stern. Ranvir resignedly sat beside her, taking her offering. Gunnor did likewise on the opposite end. And so they sat in silence for a while. However long his mother determined it needed to be.

“We may talk,” she finally said, not letting go of their hands. Her barest concession to the conflict was a slight retreat so Ranvir could see his dad.

“I’m sorry,” Gunnor said immediately. “We were speaking of things I didn’t understand. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. I don’t know what the last few years have been like for you.”

Ranvir nodded. The usual fidgeting behavior crept up, like time really hadn’t passed and he was still a seventeen-year-old kid again. He stopped himself. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

“Thank you, Dad,” he said, looking his father in the eye. “I didn’t mean to get as angry either. My reaction was unreasonable and I should’ve never acted like that towards you. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Son.”

“And I’m sorry, too,” Frey said. “It might not have gotten as heated as it was between the two of you, but I still treated you like a kid.”

It was odd to sit on the bed, holding hands with his parents and having everyone admit their faults. Not because it was a rare or new experience. But because it wasn’t, he’d done this dozens upon dozens of times before, but this was the first time he noticed the reactions internally.

Holding hands with the one he’d had the argument with lessened aggression. Having Frey as a mediator, even if all she was doing was being there, also helped. Someone that neither of them wanted to disappoint. Someone who made both of them want to be better.

Ranvir sighed and squeezed his mother’s hand. “Thank you, Mom. For doing this and persisting this idea.”

Frey pulled them into a hug. “I like to think your grandmother taught me a few good things in her time. Hopefully, you can pick up a few from us as well.”

“I hope so,” Ranvir said. A smile came genuinely to his lips as he squeezed them both. Both Gunnor and Frey groaned at the pressure.

“Since when did you become so strong?” groaned his father.

They stopped hugging and Frey got up to leave, Gunnor following quickly to offer an arm as a crutch. Vasso was just quick enough to be standing guiltily in front of the door when Frija tumbled through.

“Ouch,” she mumbled, rubbing her head with both hands.

“Well, well, well,” Gunnor said archly. “What do we have here?”

“Uh,” Vasso defended himself valiantly, but in the end, his best shield was for naught.

“You will clean the dishes tonight, I think,” Gunnor said. “And you,” he turned to Frija. “Will help him.”

“But I’m just a kid!” she whined.

“If you’re smart enough to use that excuse, you’re smart enough to know better.”

She whined some more, but Ranvir’s parents were hardened warriors, capable of handling even the most powerful puppy-eyes and the wheedliest of tones. Ranvir remained behind to consider what he was actually feeling.

Why did it bother me so much that Mom treated me like that? He thought. Even though the answer seemed self-evident to his eyes. The question was worth considering, if for no other reason than it might prepare him for Vasso and Frija. I am no longer the kid that left. She seemed more interested in getting Ranvir, the jeweler’s apprentice back, then in getting to know me.

He let the conclusion sit, turning it over. Did it feel right? Not really. Frey was his mother. She cared deeply about him. So maybe she was just relying on what was familiar? She wanted her son back, but didn’t take the time to be curious about what had happened to me.

That felt better, but still not accurate. Through the opened door, Ranvir saw Frija deposit her socks and shoes on a chair before crawling onto it herself. Then she started to put on both all on her own. An ache filled his chest, a deep vivid blue, a blemish against him more than an open wound. Not that long ago that Frija couldn’t even tell the inside from the outside, and now she was putting them on herself.

Frey saw in me what she did and did not recognize and fear drove her to search out the familiar, rather than the strange. Instead of getting to know me, she went looking for the seventeen-year-old.

Ranvir sighed as he realized his father had done the same, but opposite. He’d seen Ranvir’s wings and arm, he’d seen the scar, heard stories of tethered and feared the worst. Gunnor came to me with his fear of what my life would be like and found only confirmation.

It came down to learning about their child, rather than approaching with an established purpose. Not that Ranvir didn’t have a hand in their conflict. As he’d grown so fond of reminding himself, I’m not a child anymore.

“The arena’s ready,” Es said, peeking around the doorframe.

Anyway, time to go look at the new playground.