Estella sighed, shifting her knee slightly where it was pressed into the bar. She was sitting crosslegged right in front of Julien's cell, while he mirrored her posture on the other side. A fair distance away, Rilien stood like a sentinel, understanding her need to deliver the news privately without her ever needing to ask. She lifted her head, meeting his eyes and frowning. “So... that was the deal, basically. I said we'd found the weapons in a bandit hideout outside the city. None of the bandits there will be able to say differently, anyway." It wasn't an ideal story, but it worked. Not refutable, in any case. “I'm sorry I couldn't do more, Julien. I hate that you're still in here."
He smiled, genuine and wholehearted. "I'm not." The expression softened into half of one when that didn't assuage her. "Stel... I'm not going to die. You saved my life. I can put up with a few more weeks in here while this gets sorted out. Thank you." He emphasized the words clearly, holding her eyes with his until she glanced away.
It was hard to accept his thanks when there was part of this she hadn't told him. Part that seemed important for him to know. Estella couldn't doubt that Gauvain cared about Julien. There were some things that just couldn't be falsified. But this secret... Gauvain's secret. It wasn't hers to tell, but it was going to eat at her. She'd have to write him, hope that he'd see the sense in coming clean with Julien. Hope that Julien would forgive her, in time, for not telling him the moment she knew. He would—it was a separate question whether she'd deserve it.
"Hey." He reached through the bar, poking her knee with a surprisingly-callused finger. "You're doing it again. Stop. Not in front of me, remember? You promised."
So she had. “Sorry," she murmured.
He hummed, managing to make it sound skeptical, but his face was serious when he spoke. "Whatever it is, Stel, you did the right thing. I know you did. If it gets complicated, we'll work it out when we get there. That's how we do things, right? You, the Lions, me, and this Inquisition of yours, too, seems like."
She nodded, hesitantly the first time, and then more firmly. “Yes. It is. As much as we can." She wasn't entirely sure she'd done the right thing here, but she'd tried. She always tried. It was the only thing she knew she could do.
"Well then... no use worrying. I'll be out of here in a month or two, at most, and when I am... the Inquisition's not going to worry about eating anymore."
Her eyes widened; she glanced up sharply. “How did you—" The food problem, only partly resolved by Lady Marceline's deal with Lord Ambriose, wasn't exactly publicized knowledge. They kept a lid on their problems as much as possible.
He snorted. "Just who do you think I am?" he lilted, playfully for the most part. "Friend of mine ends up leading some brand-new organization and sends me some stupidly-formal letter of introduction along with official word from an Ambassador? Of course I'm going to look into it. I didn't promise anything before because I didn't want it to look like I was paying you to do this for me. I know how important appearances can be, especially around here." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "But now? When the evidence is in and verified independently? I can give you whatever I want. And I just so happen to have half the resources left that used to be tied up in my business with Verchiel. They're yours."
She blinked. “What's market price?" It could be quite the windfall, if he was willing to give them some kind of discount.
He leveled her with an unimpressed look. "Thick doesn't suit you, Stel. I said give. I meant it. You're trying to save the bloody world, little as some of us deserve it. The least I can do is help feed you while you do it." He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, a tad theatrically. "I almost wish I did have this ridiculous private army everyone seems to think, so I could lend you that, too. But alas, it really isn't that impressive. Still... when the time comes, what's mine is yours. I'll take the field myself." He grinned. "And shake off some of the rust in the meantime, perhaps."
Estella found herself mirroring the expression. “Rust? You? I can't believe it." There was some truth in the words—Julien was an excellent swordsman. He favored the flamberge, a much heavier blade than her own, but he was impressively quick with it. She knew that firsthand.
There was companionable silence for a moment, and then Julien sighed softly. He seemed to be gathering himself to say something. "Stel... nothing I just said depends on this, but did you read the end of my letter?"
It would have been quite odd if she hadn't. She knew he was asking as a delicate way of broaching the topic, allowing her a way to exit the conversation before it went somewhere uncomfortable. And she was uncomfortable now that he'd brought it up, a tight knot dropping into the pit of her stomach. This wasn't exactly a conversation she'd ever needed to have before. But she didn't really want to run away from it.
“I did," she said, folding her hands in her lap.
He half-smiled, the expression more than a little resigned. "That doesn't sound like good news for me," he remarked. His arms slackened, hands falling to his knees. "Not that I'm surprised." Julien's tone was as mild as his face, at that particular moment.
She shook her head. “A year ago, I'd have..." Well, she wasn't sure exactly. Maybe a year ago she would have felt overjoyed, or maybe she'd just have told herself that kind of happiness wasn't anything she deserved or had time for. She'd been a different person, a year ago. And by the time she was this person, this version of herself that might be able to reach for something she wanted... she'd wanted other things. Someone else, in particular, strange as the thought still was. “I'm sorry."
He actually managed a chuckle. "For what, Stel? I messed up. It sort of serves me right that I realized it too late. But more importantly, you don't have to apologize for being the person you are, who wants the things she wants. You don't owe me or anyone else a damn thing." Reaching through the bars, he patted her knee. "It seems like you're happier now. And if that means you've started to realize just what you're worth, then... I'm glad. If you had help, then that person has my gratitude. Even if I do feel like the biggest idiot in history for being too late."
Estella scoffed, shaking her head. “You're not an idiot, Julien. And... thank you. We're still friends, right?" She didn't want to lose that. Lose this.
"We'll agree to disagree on my idiocy, but yes. Of course we're friends. And if you ever change your mind... well, I'm not quite dumb enough to make the same mistake twice. You know where I'll be." He drew his hand back, replacing it on his side of the bars.
“Sitting in prison?" She gave him a fraction of a smile, already feeling much better.
He laughed, the force of it narrowing his eyes. "If that's what it takes to get a visit from my favorite Argent Lion? Perhaps I will be."
After they said their goodbyes, Estella and Rilien exited La Flèche, wending their way back towards the harbor district and her house. Back out in the reality of the outside world, though, she found her doubts—some of them, at least—pressing on her anew. She pulled in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before she released it from her nose.
“Did I... did I do the right thing, Rilien? Agreeing to keep the secret? I can't keep myself from thinking that they might hurt someone. Someone who doesn't—" She cut herself off. Deserve it, she'd meant to finish with. But even the idea of knowing who deserved something and who didn't... she should find that strange. Stranger than she did. She wondered if she'd lost sight of that, doing what she did. Sitting in explicit judgement of people as Inquisitor... and quicker, more implicit judgement of them when she fought.
Rilien considered this for a moment. Or at least he seemed to be considering it. There were tells—the way his head tilted just slightly, though his eyes never desisted from their constant scan of the surrounding area. He was always watchful, Rilien. It had certainly served its purpose in the Alienage. “I cannot answer that question from a moral standpoint." He turned his eyes to her for a moment. It was easy to meet them, given that he was only two inches taller than she. “In pragmatic terms, what you chose has both benefits and drawbacks. The alternatives would have as well. In this case, I suspect the best choice is the one you can live with."
The one she could live with. Estella supposed that was fair enough. She wouldn't have been able to live with it, if she were responsible for Julien's death, even indirectly. And she wouldn't have been able to live with it if her actions got innocent elves killed in the mad search for a rebellion, either. The risk that people she cared about would be targeted and hurt in the future, that innocents would be caught up in the web the Cendredoights were weaving just out of sight... maybe Julien was correct. It was something similar to what Commander Lucien said, and the way he lived: do the thing that seemed right, and deal with the consequences as necessary.
She hoped the consequences would be ones she could deal with. But at least there was an opportunity in this. There wasn't one in the other possible outcomes. Just hurt and death.
“Thanks," she said softly. “For trusting me. And for saving me, in the Alienage." She felt something tight in her chest. Perhaps it was the emotions of everything the last forty-eight hours had put them through, but she was suddenly keenly aware of just how much she depended on him. Relied on him. “You're always taking such good care of me," she said, voice thick with the realization.
Perhaps it was the marked change in her voice that drew his attention back to her again, but this time he blinked, stilling his motion. They weren't in anyone's way, having stopped at the edge of a park, but he gestured at a nearby bench anyway, silently inviting—or commanding, it was often difficult to distinguish with him—her to sit. Rilien took a seat next to her, in a manner of speaking, perching on the armrest on one side of the bench, so as to be facing her profile directly. “What is this, now?" He asked the question gently, for Rilien, something softening the edges of his bluntness. He draped his arms over his knees, letting them hang loosely. It would be foolish to assume that he was not still perfectly aware of everything around them, but his attention seemed wholly devoted to her, at the moment.
“I just—" Estella drew in a breath, shaking her head and pulling her legs up onto the bench to hug to her chest. “I'm sorry, I'm just being... overly emotional, I guess." She was a bit of a mess of feelings, honestly, the antithesis of everything that he was. She was relieved the matter had been solved, apprehensive about what it would mean for the future, unsure if she'd done the right thing, afraid of the fact that other people were willing to trust her judgements about what was right as much as they were, and maybe just... maybe happy. That she'd been able to come here, navigate the waters with help from her friends, and save an innocent man that she cared about from the unjust fate that had awaited him.
“I've felt..." she didn't know how to explain it. “I've always felt alone, Rilien. I've had friends, and people I care about, and I know that, but... sometimes I feel so lonely anyway and right now I don't and it's like I can finally see it. That maybe... maybe I've been wrong about things this whole time. Wrong about—about myself. Maybe I really... really am more than I thought I was?" It was impossible still, not to put it as a question. Not to think it sounded pretentious the moment it had left her mouth. Not to realize that this glimpse of something would fade soon, and she'd fall back into her usual patterns of thinking. Where even if intellectually she knew she wasn't useless or alone or worth nothing, she couldn't ever make herself feel it.
Rilien absorbed that at some length, before he reached over, laying a hand atop her head. It was warm, even despite the season. “You are." He said it without so much as a trace of doubt. “You always have been. It is good that you can see it." He shook his head. “But you must banish this notion that I take care of you. You are not a child in need of care. You are my pupil. I teach you, and when it comes to that, I will defend you as well. That is because of nothing but who you are to me." He made sure he had her eyes before he continued. “You know I serve no title. No organization. I serve Ser Lucien, and I also serve you. Because you deserve it."
Estella shook her head emphatically. “Don't serve me, Rilien. Just... just be my teacher. And my friend. If that's—if that's okay." She was profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of being served, even if she understood that there was no inherent indignity in service. Even if it was impossible to avoid completely in the position she was in. She didn't want him to be subordinate to her. Not in his own eyes, not in anyone else's.
He tilted his head to the side, blinking owlishly at her. Then, just subtly, his mouth pulled up at one of the corners. It was no more than a centimeter or two of difference, hardly even perceptible. But it was, nevertheless, a smile. “As you say, Estella."
The smile, tiny and brief as it was, brought a bright grin over her own features, and she nodded. For a moment, at least, the worry and the doubt and everything else subsided, because she knew that what he said to her was true. She knew he did not, would never deceive her, and she allowed herself to fully appreciate what that meant. Rilien would never be able to exult in her victories, or cry with her in her defeats, or any of those other things that friends were supposedly required to do. But it didn't matter. Not for them.
And maybe... maybe they both deserved a friendship like that.
He smiled, genuine and wholehearted. "I'm not." The expression softened into half of one when that didn't assuage her. "Stel... I'm not going to die. You saved my life. I can put up with a few more weeks in here while this gets sorted out. Thank you." He emphasized the words clearly, holding her eyes with his until she glanced away.
It was hard to accept his thanks when there was part of this she hadn't told him. Part that seemed important for him to know. Estella couldn't doubt that Gauvain cared about Julien. There were some things that just couldn't be falsified. But this secret... Gauvain's secret. It wasn't hers to tell, but it was going to eat at her. She'd have to write him, hope that he'd see the sense in coming clean with Julien. Hope that Julien would forgive her, in time, for not telling him the moment she knew. He would—it was a separate question whether she'd deserve it.
"Hey." He reached through the bar, poking her knee with a surprisingly-callused finger. "You're doing it again. Stop. Not in front of me, remember? You promised."
So she had. “Sorry," she murmured.
He hummed, managing to make it sound skeptical, but his face was serious when he spoke. "Whatever it is, Stel, you did the right thing. I know you did. If it gets complicated, we'll work it out when we get there. That's how we do things, right? You, the Lions, me, and this Inquisition of yours, too, seems like."
She nodded, hesitantly the first time, and then more firmly. “Yes. It is. As much as we can." She wasn't entirely sure she'd done the right thing here, but she'd tried. She always tried. It was the only thing she knew she could do.
"Well then... no use worrying. I'll be out of here in a month or two, at most, and when I am... the Inquisition's not going to worry about eating anymore."
Her eyes widened; she glanced up sharply. “How did you—" The food problem, only partly resolved by Lady Marceline's deal with Lord Ambriose, wasn't exactly publicized knowledge. They kept a lid on their problems as much as possible.
He snorted. "Just who do you think I am?" he lilted, playfully for the most part. "Friend of mine ends up leading some brand-new organization and sends me some stupidly-formal letter of introduction along with official word from an Ambassador? Of course I'm going to look into it. I didn't promise anything before because I didn't want it to look like I was paying you to do this for me. I know how important appearances can be, especially around here." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "But now? When the evidence is in and verified independently? I can give you whatever I want. And I just so happen to have half the resources left that used to be tied up in my business with Verchiel. They're yours."
She blinked. “What's market price?" It could be quite the windfall, if he was willing to give them some kind of discount.
He leveled her with an unimpressed look. "Thick doesn't suit you, Stel. I said give. I meant it. You're trying to save the bloody world, little as some of us deserve it. The least I can do is help feed you while you do it." He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, a tad theatrically. "I almost wish I did have this ridiculous private army everyone seems to think, so I could lend you that, too. But alas, it really isn't that impressive. Still... when the time comes, what's mine is yours. I'll take the field myself." He grinned. "And shake off some of the rust in the meantime, perhaps."
Estella found herself mirroring the expression. “Rust? You? I can't believe it." There was some truth in the words—Julien was an excellent swordsman. He favored the flamberge, a much heavier blade than her own, but he was impressively quick with it. She knew that firsthand.
There was companionable silence for a moment, and then Julien sighed softly. He seemed to be gathering himself to say something. "Stel... nothing I just said depends on this, but did you read the end of my letter?"
It would have been quite odd if she hadn't. She knew he was asking as a delicate way of broaching the topic, allowing her a way to exit the conversation before it went somewhere uncomfortable. And she was uncomfortable now that he'd brought it up, a tight knot dropping into the pit of her stomach. This wasn't exactly a conversation she'd ever needed to have before. But she didn't really want to run away from it.
“I did," she said, folding her hands in her lap.
He half-smiled, the expression more than a little resigned. "That doesn't sound like good news for me," he remarked. His arms slackened, hands falling to his knees. "Not that I'm surprised." Julien's tone was as mild as his face, at that particular moment.
She shook her head. “A year ago, I'd have..." Well, she wasn't sure exactly. Maybe a year ago she would have felt overjoyed, or maybe she'd just have told herself that kind of happiness wasn't anything she deserved or had time for. She'd been a different person, a year ago. And by the time she was this person, this version of herself that might be able to reach for something she wanted... she'd wanted other things. Someone else, in particular, strange as the thought still was. “I'm sorry."
He actually managed a chuckle. "For what, Stel? I messed up. It sort of serves me right that I realized it too late. But more importantly, you don't have to apologize for being the person you are, who wants the things she wants. You don't owe me or anyone else a damn thing." Reaching through the bars, he patted her knee. "It seems like you're happier now. And if that means you've started to realize just what you're worth, then... I'm glad. If you had help, then that person has my gratitude. Even if I do feel like the biggest idiot in history for being too late."
Estella scoffed, shaking her head. “You're not an idiot, Julien. And... thank you. We're still friends, right?" She didn't want to lose that. Lose this.
"We'll agree to disagree on my idiocy, but yes. Of course we're friends. And if you ever change your mind... well, I'm not quite dumb enough to make the same mistake twice. You know where I'll be." He drew his hand back, replacing it on his side of the bars.
“Sitting in prison?" She gave him a fraction of a smile, already feeling much better.
He laughed, the force of it narrowing his eyes. "If that's what it takes to get a visit from my favorite Argent Lion? Perhaps I will be."
After they said their goodbyes, Estella and Rilien exited La Flèche, wending their way back towards the harbor district and her house. Back out in the reality of the outside world, though, she found her doubts—some of them, at least—pressing on her anew. She pulled in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before she released it from her nose.
“Did I... did I do the right thing, Rilien? Agreeing to keep the secret? I can't keep myself from thinking that they might hurt someone. Someone who doesn't—" She cut herself off. Deserve it, she'd meant to finish with. But even the idea of knowing who deserved something and who didn't... she should find that strange. Stranger than she did. She wondered if she'd lost sight of that, doing what she did. Sitting in explicit judgement of people as Inquisitor... and quicker, more implicit judgement of them when she fought.
Rilien considered this for a moment. Or at least he seemed to be considering it. There were tells—the way his head tilted just slightly, though his eyes never desisted from their constant scan of the surrounding area. He was always watchful, Rilien. It had certainly served its purpose in the Alienage. “I cannot answer that question from a moral standpoint." He turned his eyes to her for a moment. It was easy to meet them, given that he was only two inches taller than she. “In pragmatic terms, what you chose has both benefits and drawbacks. The alternatives would have as well. In this case, I suspect the best choice is the one you can live with."
The one she could live with. Estella supposed that was fair enough. She wouldn't have been able to live with it, if she were responsible for Julien's death, even indirectly. And she wouldn't have been able to live with it if her actions got innocent elves killed in the mad search for a rebellion, either. The risk that people she cared about would be targeted and hurt in the future, that innocents would be caught up in the web the Cendredoights were weaving just out of sight... maybe Julien was correct. It was something similar to what Commander Lucien said, and the way he lived: do the thing that seemed right, and deal with the consequences as necessary.
She hoped the consequences would be ones she could deal with. But at least there was an opportunity in this. There wasn't one in the other possible outcomes. Just hurt and death.
“Thanks," she said softly. “For trusting me. And for saving me, in the Alienage." She felt something tight in her chest. Perhaps it was the emotions of everything the last forty-eight hours had put them through, but she was suddenly keenly aware of just how much she depended on him. Relied on him. “You're always taking such good care of me," she said, voice thick with the realization.
Perhaps it was the marked change in her voice that drew his attention back to her again, but this time he blinked, stilling his motion. They weren't in anyone's way, having stopped at the edge of a park, but he gestured at a nearby bench anyway, silently inviting—or commanding, it was often difficult to distinguish with him—her to sit. Rilien took a seat next to her, in a manner of speaking, perching on the armrest on one side of the bench, so as to be facing her profile directly. “What is this, now?" He asked the question gently, for Rilien, something softening the edges of his bluntness. He draped his arms over his knees, letting them hang loosely. It would be foolish to assume that he was not still perfectly aware of everything around them, but his attention seemed wholly devoted to her, at the moment.
“I just—" Estella drew in a breath, shaking her head and pulling her legs up onto the bench to hug to her chest. “I'm sorry, I'm just being... overly emotional, I guess." She was a bit of a mess of feelings, honestly, the antithesis of everything that he was. She was relieved the matter had been solved, apprehensive about what it would mean for the future, unsure if she'd done the right thing, afraid of the fact that other people were willing to trust her judgements about what was right as much as they were, and maybe just... maybe happy. That she'd been able to come here, navigate the waters with help from her friends, and save an innocent man that she cared about from the unjust fate that had awaited him.
“I've felt..." she didn't know how to explain it. “I've always felt alone, Rilien. I've had friends, and people I care about, and I know that, but... sometimes I feel so lonely anyway and right now I don't and it's like I can finally see it. That maybe... maybe I've been wrong about things this whole time. Wrong about—about myself. Maybe I really... really am more than I thought I was?" It was impossible still, not to put it as a question. Not to think it sounded pretentious the moment it had left her mouth. Not to realize that this glimpse of something would fade soon, and she'd fall back into her usual patterns of thinking. Where even if intellectually she knew she wasn't useless or alone or worth nothing, she couldn't ever make herself feel it.
Rilien absorbed that at some length, before he reached over, laying a hand atop her head. It was warm, even despite the season. “You are." He said it without so much as a trace of doubt. “You always have been. It is good that you can see it." He shook his head. “But you must banish this notion that I take care of you. You are not a child in need of care. You are my pupil. I teach you, and when it comes to that, I will defend you as well. That is because of nothing but who you are to me." He made sure he had her eyes before he continued. “You know I serve no title. No organization. I serve Ser Lucien, and I also serve you. Because you deserve it."
Estella shook her head emphatically. “Don't serve me, Rilien. Just... just be my teacher. And my friend. If that's—if that's okay." She was profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of being served, even if she understood that there was no inherent indignity in service. Even if it was impossible to avoid completely in the position she was in. She didn't want him to be subordinate to her. Not in his own eyes, not in anyone else's.
He tilted his head to the side, blinking owlishly at her. Then, just subtly, his mouth pulled up at one of the corners. It was no more than a centimeter or two of difference, hardly even perceptible. But it was, nevertheless, a smile. “As you say, Estella."
The smile, tiny and brief as it was, brought a bright grin over her own features, and she nodded. For a moment, at least, the worry and the doubt and everything else subsided, because she knew that what he said to her was true. She knew he did not, would never deceive her, and she allowed herself to fully appreciate what that meant. Rilien would never be able to exult in her victories, or cry with her in her defeats, or any of those other things that friends were supposedly required to do. But it didn't matter. Not for them.
And maybe... maybe they both deserved a friendship like that.