Restraint took effort. It alwaysdid.
They walked out together.
The drive to the church passed in near silence. Alaric kept his attention on the road, the familiar route unfolding beneath the tires, muscle memory guiding him where conscious thought refused to linger. Sera sat beside him, hands folded in her lap, gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
He could feel her there. Every inch of her presence registered, alow hum beneath his thoughts. At one point, he became aware of the tension in her posture and reached out without thinking, resting his hand briefly overhers.
The contact lasted less than a second.
She stiffened slightly, then relaxed beneath his palm. He withdrew his hand almost immediately, but the message lingered.
I’m here.
It was all he couldoffer rightnow.
The family church waited, heavy with legacy.
The stone façade rose from the surrounding grounds with quiet authority, unchanged by decades of weather or sentiment. Alaric had always associated it with permanence. Standing before it now, he was uncomfortably aware of how little permanence actually guaranteed.
The service began with a hush that seemed imposed rather than natural.
It settled over the congregation like a directive rather than a shared emotion, instructing them when to lower their voices, when to still their bodies, when to remember who they were in relation to the Severinname.
Alaric stood as the family rose, the movement automatic, rehearsed through generations of Severins who had learned early how to comport themselves in public grief. The influence of the church pressed in around him, stone and wood bearing witness to every significant moment of his life he could remember.
He had stood here as a boy, stiff and restless beside his father, listening to sermons that emphasized duty and obedience over comfort. He had stood here as a man, watching siblings wed beneath thestained glass, promises spoken aloud while consequences went unacknowledged.
Now he stood here again, hands clasped loosely in front of him, Underboss mode fully engaged.
The priest’s voice flowed over the congregation, measured and calm. Words about legacy. About continuity. About the life that remained after death.
Alaric listened without reacting. Sera beside him, close enough that he could sense the warmth of her body through the layers of fabric between them. Not touching. Never touching. The restraint was deliberate. Necessary.
He noticed the way his youngest sister, Elise, married to the Dante Chief, Cade, didn’t bow her head during the first prayer. The way her gaze remained fixed on the altar, expression unreadable. He noticed his oldest sister, Astrid’s attention drifting, not from boredom but calculation, eyes tracking movement at the edges of theroom.
Vidar stood several rows back, behind the family.
Too still. Too composed.
Alaric watched the man carefully, noting the slump of his shoulders, the way his hands were clasped as if in humility.Performance. Every bit of it. The realization brought no satisfaction, only a tightening in his chest.
The congregation knelt. Rose.Sat.
Time elongated.
The hymn began, voices lifting uncertainly at first, then gaining strength. Alaric didn’t sing. He never had. He stood through it, mind drifting briefly to a memory of his father’s voice, low and commanding, correcting him once when he had slouched during a service likethis.
Stand straight. You represent the family.
He straightened now, reflexive even in memory.
Sera shifted beside him, and for a moment her arm brushed his sleeve. The contact was light, almost incidental, but it grounded him more than the ritual ever could.
When the hymn ended, silence fell again. Thick. Expectant.
The room settled into an uneasy stillness as the service drew toward its close. People shifted, glances flicking not with purpose but with restlessness, the kind that followed prolonged restraint. Further down the pew, Astrid stiffened, posture sharpening as if preparing for whatever came next, though nothing yet hadrevealed itself.
The priest concluded the formal remarks, offering final words of comfort that landed with muted effect. The family began to shift, the service officially over but the influence of it lingering.
