Chapter Thirty-Four
Five Years Later
“I’ve never seen so many five-year-olds in my life,” Emer laughed, adjusting the babe at her breast. Warmth flooded him at the sound. Their daughter, Fia, was not yet two months old and spent all her time in Emer’s arms.
Broccan snorted in amusement as he watched Illadan’s blonde-haired daughter order around all three of the boys.
She well and truly took after her father, holding forth from a rock on the grassy hillside below them.
By her side, as always, was Cormac and Astrid’s dark-haired daughter, Sif.
At two, she was inseparable from Liadan. “I fear it’s only just beginning.”
Finn’s son Dallan, named for his uncle, took her demands the best, always trying to help his willful cousin and hardly complaining. He was bent over, searching for something in the grass at Liadan’s bidding.
Cormac’s twin boys, Olaf and Ivar, took after their mother in more than just their bright red hair and freckles.
They had her stubbornness and mischief, and weren’t afraid to use it.
Especially when Liadan tried to coerce them.
They took her order in a different direction entirely, tearing up as much of the nearby grass as they could get their hands on.
Broccan felt a tug at his léine and looked down to find Cairbre waiting, arms raised to be picked up.
With a joy he thought he’d never feel again, Broccan lifted his son into his lap.
At two, Cairbre found the older children’s antics overwhelming.
He preferred watching from the safety of Broccan’s lap.
Hopefully that thoughtful nature endured into adulthood.
“Is it just me, or do the babes come in waves around here?” Alannah appeared right behind Cairbre, her own three children following her like ducklings. She and Conan had them one right after the other, so that hardly a day went by that Conan wasn’t teased about leaving the poor woman alone.
At four, three, and two, Finbar, Nes, and Art were the best playmates of the bunch for Cairbre. Their patience with him impressed Broccan every single day.
“All save yours,” Broccan teased her.
Alannah gave him a little shove, not so hard as to upset Cairbre in his lap.
Emer lifted up Fia to burp her. “I’m glad they’ll have each other growing up. I wish we’d had more friends and family with us.”
“I’m glad they’ll have peace.” Broccan and his fathers before him had known only war. Invasions and infighting had defined centuries of childhood. But Brian had changed that.
With the help of the Fianna, he’d taken the high kingship from Malachy. éire was united. The Ostmen kept to their settlements. The island finally found peace.
And, to his everlasting gratitude, so did Broccan.