For once in her life, the familiar comfort of a good story was doing very little to absorb Estella.
Even here, in Magister Catus's library, she was thinking back to her conversation with Master Horatio the day before. While Cyrus and some of the others prepared to meet someone Zahra knew, she'd made a trip to the Argent Spire, standing before it for no less than two hours before she'd gathered the courage to step inside. She hadn't expected to actually be able to see her first teacherâhe was an important person, and she could hardly announce her presence as Inquisitor. For a strange moment, she'd considered simply slipping into his private library like she had so many times as a child, when she was supposed to be cleaning the lower floors.
But she was no longer a child, and an adultâa strangerâin such a place would have been a great deal less warmly-received.
She'd been about to leave when the man himself had entered the rotunda that served as entrance for the building. She'd almost shrunk away in hopes that he wouldn't see her, but as always he was quick to notice that which was out of place. Much to her immense relief, he'd been nothing but pleased to see her, and hadn't asked too many intrusive questions when they took tea in his study. Catching up had been pleasant, at least until she'd turned the topic to the one that had brought her back here in the first place. It had been heavy on her mind in the days since her arrival in Minrathous, as though the city itself brought the memories to the fore of her mind.
She'd left him, as had so often been the case, with a clearer head. Master Horatio was not demonstrative in his affection the way she'd come to expect from others she'd grown close to over the years, but he'd always had a way of helping her find herself, the thoughts worth keeping in the chaotic mess that swirled about as if to choke her. Perhaps this explained why she'd trusted Rilien so much more readily than anyone else.
But of course, reaching a resolution and enacting it were two very different things. She had a vague sense of how she wanted to do what she'd decided, and permission enough to make it happen, but... still she couldn't banish this feeling of deep uncertainty. It wasn't her first secret, this thing that held onto her heart like a leech, and it wasn't her last. But it was the one she kept closest to herself. Or the one that she could not cleave from the very core of herâit was impossible for her to discern which.
Sighing through her nose, she set the book aside. The others had left several hours ago; she had no idea when to expect them back, but it probably wouldn't be for some time yet. And no doubt after that, their leave-taking would be swift. If she wanted to do this, it had to be now.
And she did. She wanted to do it.
Pursing her lips, she lifted her eyes. Ves was much recovered since Arlathan, though it would not doubt take time for him to return to his former condition. At least he professed to no longer be in pain. "Would you like to go for a walk?" she asked, aware that the question was rather sudden. "It's just... it seems like this will probably be our only chance to see Minrathous, and there were some places I was hoping to visit." Places she might need to see, and a few she rather wanted him to see as well.
Ves flipped his own book shut. He'd been quiet, since they arrived in Minrathous, but part of that was no doubt his fatigue, which had set in heavily now that he no longer needed Estella's magic just to keep functioning. The other part was the fact that what had happened in Arlathan would take time to parse through, especially for him. He couldn't truly understand what he'd seen, as he hadn't seen all of it. Not nearly. For the moment, he'd seemed content enough to rest and recover.
"I think that sounds nice," he said, setting the book down on the table between them and rising slowly. He was dressed lightly, but comfortably enough for a walk. Minrathous weather in late fall or early winter was rarely punishing. "I've slept enough." There was something slightly uncomfortable behind the words, but he chose not to elaborate. "And I don't suppose there'll be much room for walking once we're headed back."
Certainly not on the boat. Estella nodded slightly, standing as well. Out of habit, she replaced both books at their places on the shelf before leading the way downstairs. There didn't seem to be a need for cloaks; the air was still quite mild, both in temperature and humidity. The season for storms approached, but it wasn't here yet, and the sky overhead was clear.
As soon as they were beyond the gates of the Catus estate, Estella looped her arm through his. She refused to second-guess the decision in any way, and walked close enough for it to be comfortable. Even still recovering, his stride was longer than hers, and she adjusted her pace automatically to keep up. "I suppose it's not the most desirable of destinations," she observed, guiding them through the gilded houses and fine architecture of the Ivory Quarter. "But it was home, once. I thought I might share some of it with you. I still want to see Denerim one day, too."
"Denerim is..." he searched for a way to describe, perhaps trying to be kinder than he felt. "Well, the smells are different, for one. A lot less magic, a lot more dog. I hear the King and Queen have cleaned the streets, but there's not much you can do about the smell of dog." He took it in, regarding it in a different sort of way from Val Royeaux, when they'd walked there. Here there was more history for him, even if he didn't know just how yet.
"I'll be honest," he said, more seriously than before, "I used to think nothing good could ever come from this place. Childish, but... I suppose that's what I still was." He reached across himself to set his other hand near her elbow. "Meeting you put that theory aside in a hurry."
A small smile tugged at Estella's mouth, but the direction of her thoughts would not let it stay. She tried to keep a sense of lightness about her, pointing out the occasional important monument or section of the city as they passed them, skirting around the edges of the Quarter. The Circle towers were easy to see from everywhere, and hardly needed introduction, but she gave them anyway, indicating which belonged to which enchanters' college.
At length, they drew to a stop in front of the Chantry building, one of the grander ones in the city. It didn't match the grandeur of the Spire, of course, but it was still lovely in its way, cut from smooth grey stone and decorated with stained glass panels. It was the building to the side she pointed to, though. "That's the orphanage. For a little while, the three of us were all here. Romulus, Cyrus, and I." Tugging gently on his arm, she led him around to the back, currently empty of any children or their minders. At this time of day, they were probably at their lessons, or listening to one of the Brothers or Sisters reciting the Chant.
The yard was a quaint thing, with a little pond near the center, a few vegetable plots and flowerbeds labeled in blocky, shaky Tevene as carrots, tomatoes, and so on. Something the caretakers didâletting those children who were so inclined keep a garden. Probably it had something to do with the value of hard work and industriousness, or the merit in cultivating life, or something like that. Estella had just enjoyed the excuse to play in the dirt.
"Cy used to freeze the pond so we could slide around on it." She could probably do the same now if she wanted to, actually, and for a moment, the desire to try it was strong, but she didn't want to be a bother to any of the people that kept the grounds. Something she hadn't really known to be concerned about, back then.
"I'd have ended up in Fort Drakon by the time I was twelve if any of my friends had been mages," Ves commented, the thought of little Estella and Cyrus sliding around gracelessly on a frozen pond no doubt amusing him. It wasn't like they would've had any skates to work with. "How long were you here for, exactly?"
"Just over a decade. I met Master Horatio when I was perhaps nine, and then when I discovered my magic he offered to teach me himself instead of making me go to one of the Circles. So I moved into the Spire." At the time, it had been more than she could have hoped for, in many ways. Firstly, being the apprentice of someone as important as himself was rather too good for her, really. But also... she'd grown by then to take at least some comfort in the presence of the Brothers and Sisters, and they certainly frightened her less than the prospect of being a would-be Magister's apprentice, or worse, apprenticed to no one at all and shunted even further from her brother's world.
She pursed her lips. Probably best to leave before lessons were done for the day and the two strangers were noticed. Once they were back out on the street, Estella sighed. "We've got a bit before we reach the next place." It was on the opposite side of the Ivory Quarter from Lord Catus's estate, so close to the market district that it was almost part of it.
Settling back into the rhythm of their pace, Estella pushed down her impending sense of dread. There were two things she wanted to talk about today; perhaps she should address the other one first. "How's Saraya?" she inquired, quietly despite not being too concerned that they'd be overheard. She knew Ves was recovering, but... she couldn't help but worry also about his company, considering everything she'd seen in Arlathan. No doubt reliving it was infinitely worse than seeing it from outside.
Vesryn seemed to expect the shift in their conversation. Possibly he read it in the way Estella paused, or something in her body language as she approached the question. "Thoroughly trapped," was his answer. "Something I suppose she thinks is deserved. Deserved or not, it's probably the only reason I'm still alive." Her current prison seemed only marginally more comfortable than what she'd been trapped in before, but at least the bleeding had been stopped. For how long was unknown, but it was better than what they'd had before.
"I've been dreaming," he continued. "Well... we've been dreaming. Now that she can touch the Fade again I guess we can share those too. Not that we have a choice. Last night I was an elven soldier in a desperate battle against Tevinter, part of a breaking line." He took in a long breath, eyes wandering to their surroundings. "Saraya remembers the feel of this city about as well as Arlathan. I guess that makes sense, if she spent a number of years here."
That wasn't anything he'd known before. Perhaps the dreams were as revealing as the visions she'd experienced. "How much have you seen, of her life? I'd like to share what I learned, but... they're not my secrets to tell, I don't think." She couldn't bring herself to say anything without Saraya's permission, not when the contents of those revelations had been so deeply personal. So deeply painful. Perhaps in time it wouldn't matter, and he'd know anyway.
"I've seen a little," he answered, solemnly. "Felt the Fall and the battles afterwards, the hopelessness of it all. I'm sure I'll see where it leads soon, but..." He looked to be on the verge of tears, no doubt spurred on by the fact that he felt Saraya's emotions alongside his own. And after all that she had been through, this moment was something new. It wouldn't be impossible to see it as another betrayal.
"The pieces are starting to feel obvious. The bodies in the field, the statues Loneliness made, hiding their faces. The elven prison she sees herself trapped in." He stopped, smiling bitterly and shaking his head. "I've been such an idiot. As blind as Zethlasan was. No one would condemn someone to such a fate for her great contributions to the world." He pulled his arm free from Estella's so he could turn to face her.
"What did she do, to deserve this?"
"She didn't," Estella replied immediately, shaking her head. Half-familiar buildings stood around them; this was a route she knew well, but the intervening years had changed the landscape of the city, in subtle ways. Nothing squared quite right with her recollection. It left her feeling almost outside herself, but she didn't dwell on the impression. This wasn't the time, and everything but him was out of focus anyway. "No one deserves what she went through."
She paused, considering her answer for a moment. Ves was telling the truth when he said he'd likely see it all soon, she didn't doubt that. It made her choice sort of irrelevant. Perhaps, if she could tell it to him in her own words, it wouldn't be quite as bad as dreaming it first. "She saw the writing on the wall, Ves. The elves had lost their power and their immortality. She'd lost the person she served her entire long life, and then she was losing everyone else around her as well. They were being destroyed, slowly, but surely, in a war of attrition that they were not going to win."
Truthfully, Estella didn't know what she thought about Saraya's actions. They'd been a betrayal, it was true, but also an attempt to preserve what life she could. For someone undoubtedly used to being powerful and clever enough to win total victories, realizing that such things were beyond her reach must have been heartbreaking. And still... she'd acknowledged it. She hadn't let her pride force her people into more fights they couldn't win. Hadn't let herself throw them on Tevinter swords without at least giving them a chance to escape it. The only chance there was. Maybe... maybe there just wasn't a right answer. Maybe the choice itself was simply wretched from the beginning.
Some choices were like that.
"She... she met with a Tevinter delegation. Agreed to help them win the war faster, if they'd spare her family and any who surrendered. She tried to stop the death. Butâbut no one surrendered, and the delegation eventually reneged on the deal anyway. They killed..." She'd killed, in a dream. She really hoped he didn't have to have that one, but something about it just seemed so inevitable.
"The elves that were left after all of it hunted her down. She was tortured, and then imprisoned." And she'd been imprisoned ever since.
His eyes were downcast before the end of it. He had to wipe at them, sniffing. No doubt before, when he'd been in so much physical pain, he would've had to take a seat, but here he was able to keep standing. "I... I don't know what to say, what to feel. I can finally recognize Saraya's guilt, the shame, the sorrow for what it is. IâI want to be angry at her. For lying to me. She's never said a word to me, but this entire time she's been lying. Letting me believe what I wanted to be true. At the same time..." He covered his face with his hands for a moment, pulling in a deep breath.
It left him in a shudder, and he let his hands fall. "I don't know what I would've done, in her place. We could've fought together, to the end, but if you were someone who couldn't fight, I don't know that the thought wouldn't cross my mind. I don't know if I'd be strong enough to sacrifice someone I loved for thousands that I didn't know. Or knowing they would all die if no action was taken at all. I can't even imagine that choice being something real." He looked around, as though to check that they still had some measure of privacy. Obviously this was not a conversation meant for a public space.
His eyes fell again, his words not meant for Estella. "I'm... I'm glad that I know now. And it's not my place to judge you. You've done more for me than anyone, you're responsible for a lot of good in the world as it is now, and your past can't change that. It'll take some time, but... we'll get through this, somehow." He smiled then, the expression seemingly welling up from somewhere deep within him, and the tears came fresh again. That was almost enough to take his feet out from under him, and he leaned forward, finding Estella's arm for support.
He met her eyes. "Thank you for telling me. From both of us."
She swallowed, reaching up with her unoccupied arm and brushing the tear-tracks away with her fingertips. Her smile was shaky, but it held a little better than her previous attempts. "Of course," she murmured. Expelling a breath, she closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself and then waiting a bit longer still to give Ves an opportunity to do the same.
Wordlessly, Estella shifted the arm beneath his hand, tangling her fingers with his, and started forward again. She felt no need to force conversation into the silence; it wasn't uncomfortable. Her dread grew apace, but that was another matter entirely, one she was forced to choke down when she drew them to a stop in front of their destination.
From the outside, the Avenarius estate was innocuous enough. It wasn't nearly as grand as the ones belonging to Magister Catus or the Magisters Viridius. It sat at the very edge of the district, its dimensions more modest, its grounds much smaller. The architect had known they were designing something less grandiose than those manses, and though there was a sort of stateliness to it, it lacked the flourishes and the artistry. It was just a house. Three stories, plain grey stone, cut as precisely as everything else in Minrathous, ringed by a wall with a stone-slab lower half and a wrought-iron upper half. The arch over the gate bore an inscription: Tempestas et Resonantia.
"This is the place where I was born," she said, cleaving the silence as gently as she knew how. "We should be expectedâI asked if it was all right that we visited today." She paused to glance up at him. "Would you mind?"
He looked relieved that he'd managed to collect himself after the exchange earlier. He actually seemed a bit surprised that her place of birth was just here, in front of them all of a sudden, as though the idea of her coming from this city was still strange to him. He overcame the hurdle quickly enough.
"'Course not. Let's go."
He wouldn't, of course. Estella took a deep breath and laid her hand against the gate, pushing inwards. It had been left unlocked for the day, as had the front door, which ceded just as easily, putting them into a small entryway in front of the foyer. A few cloak hooks to the left were occupied, several pairs of shoes lined up neatly against the wall, but the evidence of occupation was only indirect until they stepped into the foyer itself.
An older woman hummed softly under her breath, busy at work polishing the already-shining banister, one of two that led up from either side of the room at met at the far wall across from them. The chandelier suspended from the ceiling was lit by soft magelight, more for decoration than practical purpose at this time of day, hints of blue, indigo, and violet winking among the clear crystals. It was as immaculate as Estella remembered it being, if a little more... lived-in. Warm. The large tapestries that had hung on the wall-sides of the staircases had been removed, the walls lightened to a soft cream color, and the curtains left open so that sunlight could cascade in from the front and pool on the marble-tiled floor.
She cleared her throat, and the woman halted, turning to face her visitors. For a moment, she squinted, as though somewhat perplexed by their presence, but realization dawned on her soon enough. "Ah, miss. Basil said you'd be by today. It's been such a long time, now." There was a measure of fondness in her smile, but she treated Estella with no particular deference. That was fairly normal, though, and frankly for the best. "Just about a decade now, hasn't it been?
Estella nodded. "Nearly," she admitted quietly. "It's nice to see you, too, Clara." She couldn't help her awkward shift, though. "Things are well here?"
Clara tucked a stray strand of iron-grey hair behind one pointed ear. "Of course, miss." She tilted her head, looking as though she wanted to say something else, but whatever it was, she kept it trapped behind her teeth.
The direction of her eyes at least helped Estella remember her manners. "Oh, um. Ves, this is Clara. She's in charge of the staff here. Clara, this is Vesryn. He's my, umâ" she fumbled for a word, any word, but they all sounded either too banal or too formal, and the most obvious ones were technically not correct.
The hesitation provided an opportunity for Ves to step in, and as usual, exacerbate the issue. "Darling?" he suggested. "Sweetheart? Dearest? Hm. They don't quite do it justice, do they?" He shook his head, and then inclined it towards Clara. "Companion, perhaps. It's a pleasure, Clara."
She should have seen that coming, honestly. Estella shook her head, figuring that she must be getting used to Ves's tendency to deal with awkwardness by stretching it until it broke. At least she wasn't sputtering.
Clara seemed to find it funny, if her quickly-smothered laughter was anything to go by. "Justice or not, I think I understand the idea," she said, returning Ves's nod with a smile. "In any case, miss, don't let me keep you. It's your house, after all."
Estella thought that was rather too generous an assessment. Legally and in practice, it was Cyrus's house, and while she knew he'd happily just give it to her if she gave the first indication of wanting it, her feelings about the place were complex. She didn't think she'd ever want to live here, in any case. At the moment, the only people who did were the staff, and her brother had long given them leave to occupy the actual bedrooms and the like rather than the servants' quarters, as long as they maintained the building and grounds in his absence.
With a farewell to Clara, they headed up the left staircase in the foyer, to the second floor. "I visited this place quite often," she explained when they reached the landing. "When my grandfather was still alive." Nearly once a week, most of the time. She hadn't thought it especially odd that she frequently entered as a guest the home that should have been hers, because that was just the way things were. A child could think of nearly anything as normal, no doubt. "It was mostly just him here, and the servants. I don't think Cyrus came by any more than he had to, especially not after he went to live with Magister Viridius."
She paused at the end of the second floor hallway, letting her hand rest on the door there. It was slightly ajar already, but Estella couldn't quite bring herself to look inside. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in her stomach, and her lips thinned. Her breathing felt shallow, more difficult than it should have been. She wondered if she were really brave enough to confront thisâshe'd been running from it for so long. "This wasâthis was his study." The casual tone of the words was entirely false, and unease peeked through the cracks of it. "I haven't been inside since... since the day before I ran away."
It was just a room. She knew it was, and she had a suspicion that it wouldn't even look much like the room she remembered. This wasn't the Fade; she would not find herself stepping into a memory. No blood would smear the floor. She doubted anyone was even in there. Certainly she would not find him sitting in the wingbacked armchair, staring listlessly out the window. Even so.
Ves wasn't blind nor deaf, and could both see and hear the unease coming off of Estella. Not awkwardness spawned from an unfamiliar social situation or tenseness from impending danger, but something far more deep-seated, rooted in her, and connected to this particular room. For his part, Ves remained relaxed, his grip on her hand holding steady, neither tightening nor loosening. He certainly wasn't going to open the door for her, or push her inside.
"Something happened in there, I take it." Phrased as a statement, it was still an invitation to elaborate, if she wanted.
Estella nodded. She wondered if she might not have turned back around if she were by herself. But she wasn't, and that at least gave her enough strength to answer. Dimmed the memories of panic and guilt, because Ves wasn't in them. "Iâ" She'd had it in her head to just get it out, in one breath, but she barely managed the first syllable before the attempt fell short. It would have to be the long way, then.
Feeling quite as though she'd rather fight General Ellas again than open the door, she leaned her weight into it anyway, feeling it glide back on its hinges without a sound. The house was far too well-maintained for the doors to creak.
The chair was gone. So was the desk it sat behind. Her eyes flickered to the floor. New rug, too. It would have to be. A short, jerky step put her over the threshold, and then she was standing in the study. It was simultaneously worse than she'd expected and also somehow not as bad. Worse, because the memories were still crystalline; time had not done her the courtesy of fading them. Not as bad because... they didn't overlay the real room as easily as she'd thought they would. It looked too different, smelled too different, just old paper and a hint of lemon from the wash-water they used on the windows. No bergamot. No pipe-smoke, tinged with that ugly flavor at the back of her tongue that meant it was laced with something alchemical.
It didn't smell like Tiberius anymore.
Ducking her head, Estella took a few more steps inwards, reaching out to run a finger along the spine of a book before drawing up short, the motion ended before it was finished. This wasn't so bad. She could... she could bear it.
"My grandfather spent most of his time in here. Usually when I came to visit, it would be here that I went." She licked her lips, finding her mouth uncomfortably dry. "He was... he didn't like me very much, really. I think I reminded him that my mother was dead." She'd kept coming to see him anyway. Whether he ever legally recognized her or not, he was her family, and even that was so much more than most people had. Most of the children she grew up with.
She turned, breathing a sigh when her eyes landed on Ves. He was the biggest incongruity of all, which made it easier to take, somehow. "But... as he got older, he started toâto forget. It was simple things at first, like appointments or where he'd left things. Then he started to forget pieces of conversations he was still having, like suddenly he'd trail off and not remember what he was talking about or why. Then he started to forget names, and dates, and what year it was." She shook her head.
"Eventually, he just... forgot most of the last twenty years or so. He had moments of clarity, but at his worst he started to think that I wasâthat I was her. My mother. He'd call me by her name, ask me about things she must have been doing at some point he still had a grip on. Talk about dead people as though they were still alive and in the next room."
Ves was a patient listener, and took in everything she was saying, clearly understanding that it was going somewhere important. "My grandmother went through something similar, but I was very young. Can't imagine it would be an easy thing to watch." By the sounds of it, he'd been too young to really experience it, but such symptoms weren't uncommon in the elderly. No doubt the Alienage had been no exception. "You must've learned some things from him, then. About your parents."
Pursing her lips, Estella almost shook her head. "Not much, really. More about other members of my family. He thought I was mother, and he never mentioned father. Either the memories were too new and so gone, or he just... refused to acknowledge them." She sighed.
"If I stayed too long, he'd remember, though. It made him so... angry." According to Clara, he was usually like that around everyone. Certainly he'd been... unkind to her, before the delusions. Before the forgetting. But it got worse after. She could watch it happen, watch the clarity intrude and the way the light went from his eyes at the same moment as the fog lifted. "It must have been like losing her, over and over again. He loved her, so much." Her eyes fell to the floor. "He was so warm to me. It felt like he loved me, too."
That, more than anything, was why she'd always come back. A selfish need to feel that, even if the illusion would shatter from both ends.
The carpet went out of focus, the words tumbling from her clumsy tongue before she was ready to say them. Maybe that was good. Maybe she'd never have been ready to say them. "I killed him, Ves. I killed my grandfather."
He frowned, just a moment, more in confusion than anything else. He'd expected something, that much was clear, but it wasn't that. Likely because the way she said it made it sound so unnatural for her. Estella had killed many people, by the necessity brought about from combat and being a part of the Inquisition. She'd killed people as a mercenary before that. But killing a family member, an old grandfather, was none of those things.
Ves didn't react overmuch, though, still just holding onto her hand and acting like he saw none of the room around him. Just her. "How? Why?" he asked. His tone wasn't accusatory or judging, even if it was a little shocked.
Right. Yes. How and why were important questions, even if she hadn't thought so at the time. Even if she had trouble thinking so now. No amount of thinking or dwelling or explaining herself to herself had ever eased the feeling of guilt that had seeded itself in her heart the day it happened.
She pushed out a shaky breath. "He'd always... he'd always say such cruel things, when he remembered." Before he'd started to forget, even. "He... he hated the fact that I'd killed her. That having two children was one too many for my mother. I was the second one, and the one that wasn't going to amount to anything." She'd felt it before anyone ever said it, but to her the fact that her grandfather thought so moved it from a little knot of doubt in her belly to indisputable fact. A bad trade, a fool's trade, his dear Genny for the girl who couldn't even wear the same face right. Who didn't have half the talent or the poise or the spirit.
"For a long time, that was all. I thought maybe if I just... if I just took care of him, maybe he'd stop thinking so. Maybe that feeling, like we were family, was something he might... he might feel about me. Maybe he just needed time, or I just needed to work harder, or something." Estella's hand shook in Ves's; she tightened her grip in an effort to make it stop. "But it got worse, maybe because I was getting older, because the memories were different." Her parents had met when her mother was quite young still; perhaps he tried without really being aware of it to keep away from those recollections.
"He hit me," she said softly. "He'd never done that before. I fell down, over there." She pointed to a spot against one of the walls. A painting in a house in the Emerald Graves had depicted the moment his shadow fell over her. "He had this staff. I was... I was afraid of what he was going to do with it, and I just... reacted. My magicâlike in the duel." A blind lash of force, desperate and panicked. "It knocked him backwards. He fell, and... the desk was in the way, and his head hit theâthe corner."
Estella wrapped her free arm around herself. "I ran to Master Horatio. He sent for Cyrus, and theyâthey got me out. Made it go away somehow, I don't know." She shook her head. "Somehow that feels almost as wrong. He was sick, and sad, and fragile, and I just... I killed him." She squeezed her eyes shut, a pair of tears slipping down her cheeks.
Ves looked like he wanted to hug her, but resisted. Perhaps until what needed to be said could be said. Of course, he looked to be having trouble figuring out what words were best. "I'm not sure if there's anything I can say that hasn't been said before, or that you haven't already thought yourself." Likely he was referring to justifications for it. Self-defense. It was an accident. She didn't mean to kill him. Ves didn't seem to want to justify it. Death was tricky like that.
"I don't think you deserve to pay for what happened, if that's what you think." He reached, wiping at a tear with the back of his fingers. "No one here can quantify the worth of someone's life. All you could do was live the way you have. If you'd paid for his death with your life, how much more good would've been lost without you?" He paused, perhaps to give her a second to think on it, or just to collect his own thoughts.
"Wherever he is now... I'd like to think he looks on you with clarity he never had in life. And I think he doesn't see you as your mother. After everything you've done with the chances you've been given, he has to see you as your own woman. Someone any man would be proud to call family."
She wanted to believe that was true. Wanted to believe he'd be proud of her. Somehow, though, she couldn't reconcile it. She still couldn't quite imagine that sort of regard directed at her. Not from Tiberius, at least. Maybe that was just their lot. And maybe her lot was to stitch together that feeling for herself, create it from bonds with people she met and came to know. No mothers or fathers or grandparents, but a brother and an uncle and beloved friends and the person in front of her, who thought so highly of her, even when she didn't quite understand it.
Estella leaned forward, letting her forehead rest against his chest. "The night I left, Cyrus told me... he said, 'don't stop running until you feel safe again.'" Her sense of safety had been lost that day, and even when her feet stopped propelling her south, she'd still been running. She'd never told anyone about this, because she was so afraid of facing it. And though so many of her fears had been hewn from her, or at least tamed until they were manageable, this one was the root of them all. That what she had done made her every bit as unworthy as she'd always believed.
"Youâyou make me feel safe, you know that?" Though she'd wondered how she'd find the guts to say it aloud, she'd never once doubted her decision to tell him. She wanted him to know. She didn't want there to be anything about her he didn't. And that would take time, to be sure, but she could believe they had that now. "You make me feel like I don't have to run anymore. From anything." Not from her history, not from anyone's disapproving eyes, not from all the things it seemed she couldn't do but had to anyway. It was still so hard to feel like she deserved thisâdeserved him.
But she was much too far gone to give him up.
He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her hair as he liked to do. "Whatever else comes our way, whatever form it takes, we can beat it together. That much, ma vhenan, I know."
Even here, in Magister Catus's library, she was thinking back to her conversation with Master Horatio the day before. While Cyrus and some of the others prepared to meet someone Zahra knew, she'd made a trip to the Argent Spire, standing before it for no less than two hours before she'd gathered the courage to step inside. She hadn't expected to actually be able to see her first teacherâhe was an important person, and she could hardly announce her presence as Inquisitor. For a strange moment, she'd considered simply slipping into his private library like she had so many times as a child, when she was supposed to be cleaning the lower floors.
But she was no longer a child, and an adultâa strangerâin such a place would have been a great deal less warmly-received.
She'd been about to leave when the man himself had entered the rotunda that served as entrance for the building. She'd almost shrunk away in hopes that he wouldn't see her, but as always he was quick to notice that which was out of place. Much to her immense relief, he'd been nothing but pleased to see her, and hadn't asked too many intrusive questions when they took tea in his study. Catching up had been pleasant, at least until she'd turned the topic to the one that had brought her back here in the first place. It had been heavy on her mind in the days since her arrival in Minrathous, as though the city itself brought the memories to the fore of her mind.
She'd left him, as had so often been the case, with a clearer head. Master Horatio was not demonstrative in his affection the way she'd come to expect from others she'd grown close to over the years, but he'd always had a way of helping her find herself, the thoughts worth keeping in the chaotic mess that swirled about as if to choke her. Perhaps this explained why she'd trusted Rilien so much more readily than anyone else.
But of course, reaching a resolution and enacting it were two very different things. She had a vague sense of how she wanted to do what she'd decided, and permission enough to make it happen, but... still she couldn't banish this feeling of deep uncertainty. It wasn't her first secret, this thing that held onto her heart like a leech, and it wasn't her last. But it was the one she kept closest to herself. Or the one that she could not cleave from the very core of herâit was impossible for her to discern which.
Sighing through her nose, she set the book aside. The others had left several hours ago; she had no idea when to expect them back, but it probably wouldn't be for some time yet. And no doubt after that, their leave-taking would be swift. If she wanted to do this, it had to be now.
And she did. She wanted to do it.
Pursing her lips, she lifted her eyes. Ves was much recovered since Arlathan, though it would not doubt take time for him to return to his former condition. At least he professed to no longer be in pain. "Would you like to go for a walk?" she asked, aware that the question was rather sudden. "It's just... it seems like this will probably be our only chance to see Minrathous, and there were some places I was hoping to visit." Places she might need to see, and a few she rather wanted him to see as well.
Ves flipped his own book shut. He'd been quiet, since they arrived in Minrathous, but part of that was no doubt his fatigue, which had set in heavily now that he no longer needed Estella's magic just to keep functioning. The other part was the fact that what had happened in Arlathan would take time to parse through, especially for him. He couldn't truly understand what he'd seen, as he hadn't seen all of it. Not nearly. For the moment, he'd seemed content enough to rest and recover.
"I think that sounds nice," he said, setting the book down on the table between them and rising slowly. He was dressed lightly, but comfortably enough for a walk. Minrathous weather in late fall or early winter was rarely punishing. "I've slept enough." There was something slightly uncomfortable behind the words, but he chose not to elaborate. "And I don't suppose there'll be much room for walking once we're headed back."
Certainly not on the boat. Estella nodded slightly, standing as well. Out of habit, she replaced both books at their places on the shelf before leading the way downstairs. There didn't seem to be a need for cloaks; the air was still quite mild, both in temperature and humidity. The season for storms approached, but it wasn't here yet, and the sky overhead was clear.
As soon as they were beyond the gates of the Catus estate, Estella looped her arm through his. She refused to second-guess the decision in any way, and walked close enough for it to be comfortable. Even still recovering, his stride was longer than hers, and she adjusted her pace automatically to keep up. "I suppose it's not the most desirable of destinations," she observed, guiding them through the gilded houses and fine architecture of the Ivory Quarter. "But it was home, once. I thought I might share some of it with you. I still want to see Denerim one day, too."
"Denerim is..." he searched for a way to describe, perhaps trying to be kinder than he felt. "Well, the smells are different, for one. A lot less magic, a lot more dog. I hear the King and Queen have cleaned the streets, but there's not much you can do about the smell of dog." He took it in, regarding it in a different sort of way from Val Royeaux, when they'd walked there. Here there was more history for him, even if he didn't know just how yet.
"I'll be honest," he said, more seriously than before, "I used to think nothing good could ever come from this place. Childish, but... I suppose that's what I still was." He reached across himself to set his other hand near her elbow. "Meeting you put that theory aside in a hurry."
A small smile tugged at Estella's mouth, but the direction of her thoughts would not let it stay. She tried to keep a sense of lightness about her, pointing out the occasional important monument or section of the city as they passed them, skirting around the edges of the Quarter. The Circle towers were easy to see from everywhere, and hardly needed introduction, but she gave them anyway, indicating which belonged to which enchanters' college.
At length, they drew to a stop in front of the Chantry building, one of the grander ones in the city. It didn't match the grandeur of the Spire, of course, but it was still lovely in its way, cut from smooth grey stone and decorated with stained glass panels. It was the building to the side she pointed to, though. "That's the orphanage. For a little while, the three of us were all here. Romulus, Cyrus, and I." Tugging gently on his arm, she led him around to the back, currently empty of any children or their minders. At this time of day, they were probably at their lessons, or listening to one of the Brothers or Sisters reciting the Chant.
The yard was a quaint thing, with a little pond near the center, a few vegetable plots and flowerbeds labeled in blocky, shaky Tevene as carrots, tomatoes, and so on. Something the caretakers didâletting those children who were so inclined keep a garden. Probably it had something to do with the value of hard work and industriousness, or the merit in cultivating life, or something like that. Estella had just enjoyed the excuse to play in the dirt.
"Cy used to freeze the pond so we could slide around on it." She could probably do the same now if she wanted to, actually, and for a moment, the desire to try it was strong, but she didn't want to be a bother to any of the people that kept the grounds. Something she hadn't really known to be concerned about, back then.
"I'd have ended up in Fort Drakon by the time I was twelve if any of my friends had been mages," Ves commented, the thought of little Estella and Cyrus sliding around gracelessly on a frozen pond no doubt amusing him. It wasn't like they would've had any skates to work with. "How long were you here for, exactly?"
"Just over a decade. I met Master Horatio when I was perhaps nine, and then when I discovered my magic he offered to teach me himself instead of making me go to one of the Circles. So I moved into the Spire." At the time, it had been more than she could have hoped for, in many ways. Firstly, being the apprentice of someone as important as himself was rather too good for her, really. But also... she'd grown by then to take at least some comfort in the presence of the Brothers and Sisters, and they certainly frightened her less than the prospect of being a would-be Magister's apprentice, or worse, apprenticed to no one at all and shunted even further from her brother's world.
She pursed her lips. Probably best to leave before lessons were done for the day and the two strangers were noticed. Once they were back out on the street, Estella sighed. "We've got a bit before we reach the next place." It was on the opposite side of the Ivory Quarter from Lord Catus's estate, so close to the market district that it was almost part of it.
Settling back into the rhythm of their pace, Estella pushed down her impending sense of dread. There were two things she wanted to talk about today; perhaps she should address the other one first. "How's Saraya?" she inquired, quietly despite not being too concerned that they'd be overheard. She knew Ves was recovering, but... she couldn't help but worry also about his company, considering everything she'd seen in Arlathan. No doubt reliving it was infinitely worse than seeing it from outside.
Vesryn seemed to expect the shift in their conversation. Possibly he read it in the way Estella paused, or something in her body language as she approached the question. "Thoroughly trapped," was his answer. "Something I suppose she thinks is deserved. Deserved or not, it's probably the only reason I'm still alive." Her current prison seemed only marginally more comfortable than what she'd been trapped in before, but at least the bleeding had been stopped. For how long was unknown, but it was better than what they'd had before.
"I've been dreaming," he continued. "Well... we've been dreaming. Now that she can touch the Fade again I guess we can share those too. Not that we have a choice. Last night I was an elven soldier in a desperate battle against Tevinter, part of a breaking line." He took in a long breath, eyes wandering to their surroundings. "Saraya remembers the feel of this city about as well as Arlathan. I guess that makes sense, if she spent a number of years here."
That wasn't anything he'd known before. Perhaps the dreams were as revealing as the visions she'd experienced. "How much have you seen, of her life? I'd like to share what I learned, but... they're not my secrets to tell, I don't think." She couldn't bring herself to say anything without Saraya's permission, not when the contents of those revelations had been so deeply personal. So deeply painful. Perhaps in time it wouldn't matter, and he'd know anyway.
"I've seen a little," he answered, solemnly. "Felt the Fall and the battles afterwards, the hopelessness of it all. I'm sure I'll see where it leads soon, but..." He looked to be on the verge of tears, no doubt spurred on by the fact that he felt Saraya's emotions alongside his own. And after all that she had been through, this moment was something new. It wouldn't be impossible to see it as another betrayal.
"The pieces are starting to feel obvious. The bodies in the field, the statues Loneliness made, hiding their faces. The elven prison she sees herself trapped in." He stopped, smiling bitterly and shaking his head. "I've been such an idiot. As blind as Zethlasan was. No one would condemn someone to such a fate for her great contributions to the world." He pulled his arm free from Estella's so he could turn to face her.
"What did she do, to deserve this?"
"She didn't," Estella replied immediately, shaking her head. Half-familiar buildings stood around them; this was a route she knew well, but the intervening years had changed the landscape of the city, in subtle ways. Nothing squared quite right with her recollection. It left her feeling almost outside herself, but she didn't dwell on the impression. This wasn't the time, and everything but him was out of focus anyway. "No one deserves what she went through."
She paused, considering her answer for a moment. Ves was telling the truth when he said he'd likely see it all soon, she didn't doubt that. It made her choice sort of irrelevant. Perhaps, if she could tell it to him in her own words, it wouldn't be quite as bad as dreaming it first. "She saw the writing on the wall, Ves. The elves had lost their power and their immortality. She'd lost the person she served her entire long life, and then she was losing everyone else around her as well. They were being destroyed, slowly, but surely, in a war of attrition that they were not going to win."
Truthfully, Estella didn't know what she thought about Saraya's actions. They'd been a betrayal, it was true, but also an attempt to preserve what life she could. For someone undoubtedly used to being powerful and clever enough to win total victories, realizing that such things were beyond her reach must have been heartbreaking. And still... she'd acknowledged it. She hadn't let her pride force her people into more fights they couldn't win. Hadn't let herself throw them on Tevinter swords without at least giving them a chance to escape it. The only chance there was. Maybe... maybe there just wasn't a right answer. Maybe the choice itself was simply wretched from the beginning.
Some choices were like that.
"She... she met with a Tevinter delegation. Agreed to help them win the war faster, if they'd spare her family and any who surrendered. She tried to stop the death. Butâbut no one surrendered, and the delegation eventually reneged on the deal anyway. They killed..." She'd killed, in a dream. She really hoped he didn't have to have that one, but something about it just seemed so inevitable.
"The elves that were left after all of it hunted her down. She was tortured, and then imprisoned." And she'd been imprisoned ever since.
His eyes were downcast before the end of it. He had to wipe at them, sniffing. No doubt before, when he'd been in so much physical pain, he would've had to take a seat, but here he was able to keep standing. "I... I don't know what to say, what to feel. I can finally recognize Saraya's guilt, the shame, the sorrow for what it is. IâI want to be angry at her. For lying to me. She's never said a word to me, but this entire time she's been lying. Letting me believe what I wanted to be true. At the same time..." He covered his face with his hands for a moment, pulling in a deep breath.
It left him in a shudder, and he let his hands fall. "I don't know what I would've done, in her place. We could've fought together, to the end, but if you were someone who couldn't fight, I don't know that the thought wouldn't cross my mind. I don't know if I'd be strong enough to sacrifice someone I loved for thousands that I didn't know. Or knowing they would all die if no action was taken at all. I can't even imagine that choice being something real." He looked around, as though to check that they still had some measure of privacy. Obviously this was not a conversation meant for a public space.
His eyes fell again, his words not meant for Estella. "I'm... I'm glad that I know now. And it's not my place to judge you. You've done more for me than anyone, you're responsible for a lot of good in the world as it is now, and your past can't change that. It'll take some time, but... we'll get through this, somehow." He smiled then, the expression seemingly welling up from somewhere deep within him, and the tears came fresh again. That was almost enough to take his feet out from under him, and he leaned forward, finding Estella's arm for support.
He met her eyes. "Thank you for telling me. From both of us."
She swallowed, reaching up with her unoccupied arm and brushing the tear-tracks away with her fingertips. Her smile was shaky, but it held a little better than her previous attempts. "Of course," she murmured. Expelling a breath, she closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself and then waiting a bit longer still to give Ves an opportunity to do the same.
Wordlessly, Estella shifted the arm beneath his hand, tangling her fingers with his, and started forward again. She felt no need to force conversation into the silence; it wasn't uncomfortable. Her dread grew apace, but that was another matter entirely, one she was forced to choke down when she drew them to a stop in front of their destination.
From the outside, the Avenarius estate was innocuous enough. It wasn't nearly as grand as the ones belonging to Magister Catus or the Magisters Viridius. It sat at the very edge of the district, its dimensions more modest, its grounds much smaller. The architect had known they were designing something less grandiose than those manses, and though there was a sort of stateliness to it, it lacked the flourishes and the artistry. It was just a house. Three stories, plain grey stone, cut as precisely as everything else in Minrathous, ringed by a wall with a stone-slab lower half and a wrought-iron upper half. The arch over the gate bore an inscription: Tempestas et Resonantia.
"This is the place where I was born," she said, cleaving the silence as gently as she knew how. "We should be expectedâI asked if it was all right that we visited today." She paused to glance up at him. "Would you mind?"
He looked relieved that he'd managed to collect himself after the exchange earlier. He actually seemed a bit surprised that her place of birth was just here, in front of them all of a sudden, as though the idea of her coming from this city was still strange to him. He overcame the hurdle quickly enough.
"'Course not. Let's go."
He wouldn't, of course. Estella took a deep breath and laid her hand against the gate, pushing inwards. It had been left unlocked for the day, as had the front door, which ceded just as easily, putting them into a small entryway in front of the foyer. A few cloak hooks to the left were occupied, several pairs of shoes lined up neatly against the wall, but the evidence of occupation was only indirect until they stepped into the foyer itself.
An older woman hummed softly under her breath, busy at work polishing the already-shining banister, one of two that led up from either side of the room at met at the far wall across from them. The chandelier suspended from the ceiling was lit by soft magelight, more for decoration than practical purpose at this time of day, hints of blue, indigo, and violet winking among the clear crystals. It was as immaculate as Estella remembered it being, if a little more... lived-in. Warm. The large tapestries that had hung on the wall-sides of the staircases had been removed, the walls lightened to a soft cream color, and the curtains left open so that sunlight could cascade in from the front and pool on the marble-tiled floor.
She cleared her throat, and the woman halted, turning to face her visitors. For a moment, she squinted, as though somewhat perplexed by their presence, but realization dawned on her soon enough. "Ah, miss. Basil said you'd be by today. It's been such a long time, now." There was a measure of fondness in her smile, but she treated Estella with no particular deference. That was fairly normal, though, and frankly for the best. "Just about a decade now, hasn't it been?
Estella nodded. "Nearly," she admitted quietly. "It's nice to see you, too, Clara." She couldn't help her awkward shift, though. "Things are well here?"
Clara tucked a stray strand of iron-grey hair behind one pointed ear. "Of course, miss." She tilted her head, looking as though she wanted to say something else, but whatever it was, she kept it trapped behind her teeth.
The direction of her eyes at least helped Estella remember her manners. "Oh, um. Ves, this is Clara. She's in charge of the staff here. Clara, this is Vesryn. He's my, umâ" she fumbled for a word, any word, but they all sounded either too banal or too formal, and the most obvious ones were technically not correct.
The hesitation provided an opportunity for Ves to step in, and as usual, exacerbate the issue. "Darling?" he suggested. "Sweetheart? Dearest? Hm. They don't quite do it justice, do they?" He shook his head, and then inclined it towards Clara. "Companion, perhaps. It's a pleasure, Clara."
She should have seen that coming, honestly. Estella shook her head, figuring that she must be getting used to Ves's tendency to deal with awkwardness by stretching it until it broke. At least she wasn't sputtering.
Clara seemed to find it funny, if her quickly-smothered laughter was anything to go by. "Justice or not, I think I understand the idea," she said, returning Ves's nod with a smile. "In any case, miss, don't let me keep you. It's your house, after all."
Estella thought that was rather too generous an assessment. Legally and in practice, it was Cyrus's house, and while she knew he'd happily just give it to her if she gave the first indication of wanting it, her feelings about the place were complex. She didn't think she'd ever want to live here, in any case. At the moment, the only people who did were the staff, and her brother had long given them leave to occupy the actual bedrooms and the like rather than the servants' quarters, as long as they maintained the building and grounds in his absence.
With a farewell to Clara, they headed up the left staircase in the foyer, to the second floor. "I visited this place quite often," she explained when they reached the landing. "When my grandfather was still alive." Nearly once a week, most of the time. She hadn't thought it especially odd that she frequently entered as a guest the home that should have been hers, because that was just the way things were. A child could think of nearly anything as normal, no doubt. "It was mostly just him here, and the servants. I don't think Cyrus came by any more than he had to, especially not after he went to live with Magister Viridius."
She paused at the end of the second floor hallway, letting her hand rest on the door there. It was slightly ajar already, but Estella couldn't quite bring herself to look inside. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in her stomach, and her lips thinned. Her breathing felt shallow, more difficult than it should have been. She wondered if she were really brave enough to confront thisâshe'd been running from it for so long. "This wasâthis was his study." The casual tone of the words was entirely false, and unease peeked through the cracks of it. "I haven't been inside since... since the day before I ran away."
It was just a room. She knew it was, and she had a suspicion that it wouldn't even look much like the room she remembered. This wasn't the Fade; she would not find herself stepping into a memory. No blood would smear the floor. She doubted anyone was even in there. Certainly she would not find him sitting in the wingbacked armchair, staring listlessly out the window. Even so.
Ves wasn't blind nor deaf, and could both see and hear the unease coming off of Estella. Not awkwardness spawned from an unfamiliar social situation or tenseness from impending danger, but something far more deep-seated, rooted in her, and connected to this particular room. For his part, Ves remained relaxed, his grip on her hand holding steady, neither tightening nor loosening. He certainly wasn't going to open the door for her, or push her inside.
"Something happened in there, I take it." Phrased as a statement, it was still an invitation to elaborate, if she wanted.
Estella nodded. She wondered if she might not have turned back around if she were by herself. But she wasn't, and that at least gave her enough strength to answer. Dimmed the memories of panic and guilt, because Ves wasn't in them. "Iâ" She'd had it in her head to just get it out, in one breath, but she barely managed the first syllable before the attempt fell short. It would have to be the long way, then.
Feeling quite as though she'd rather fight General Ellas again than open the door, she leaned her weight into it anyway, feeling it glide back on its hinges without a sound. The house was far too well-maintained for the doors to creak.
The chair was gone. So was the desk it sat behind. Her eyes flickered to the floor. New rug, too. It would have to be. A short, jerky step put her over the threshold, and then she was standing in the study. It was simultaneously worse than she'd expected and also somehow not as bad. Worse, because the memories were still crystalline; time had not done her the courtesy of fading them. Not as bad because... they didn't overlay the real room as easily as she'd thought they would. It looked too different, smelled too different, just old paper and a hint of lemon from the wash-water they used on the windows. No bergamot. No pipe-smoke, tinged with that ugly flavor at the back of her tongue that meant it was laced with something alchemical.
It didn't smell like Tiberius anymore.
Ducking her head, Estella took a few more steps inwards, reaching out to run a finger along the spine of a book before drawing up short, the motion ended before it was finished. This wasn't so bad. She could... she could bear it.
"My grandfather spent most of his time in here. Usually when I came to visit, it would be here that I went." She licked her lips, finding her mouth uncomfortably dry. "He was... he didn't like me very much, really. I think I reminded him that my mother was dead." She'd kept coming to see him anyway. Whether he ever legally recognized her or not, he was her family, and even that was so much more than most people had. Most of the children she grew up with.
She turned, breathing a sigh when her eyes landed on Ves. He was the biggest incongruity of all, which made it easier to take, somehow. "But... as he got older, he started toâto forget. It was simple things at first, like appointments or where he'd left things. Then he started to forget pieces of conversations he was still having, like suddenly he'd trail off and not remember what he was talking about or why. Then he started to forget names, and dates, and what year it was." She shook her head.
"Eventually, he just... forgot most of the last twenty years or so. He had moments of clarity, but at his worst he started to think that I wasâthat I was her. My mother. He'd call me by her name, ask me about things she must have been doing at some point he still had a grip on. Talk about dead people as though they were still alive and in the next room."
Ves was a patient listener, and took in everything she was saying, clearly understanding that it was going somewhere important. "My grandmother went through something similar, but I was very young. Can't imagine it would be an easy thing to watch." By the sounds of it, he'd been too young to really experience it, but such symptoms weren't uncommon in the elderly. No doubt the Alienage had been no exception. "You must've learned some things from him, then. About your parents."
Pursing her lips, Estella almost shook her head. "Not much, really. More about other members of my family. He thought I was mother, and he never mentioned father. Either the memories were too new and so gone, or he just... refused to acknowledge them." She sighed.
"If I stayed too long, he'd remember, though. It made him so... angry." According to Clara, he was usually like that around everyone. Certainly he'd been... unkind to her, before the delusions. Before the forgetting. But it got worse after. She could watch it happen, watch the clarity intrude and the way the light went from his eyes at the same moment as the fog lifted. "It must have been like losing her, over and over again. He loved her, so much." Her eyes fell to the floor. "He was so warm to me. It felt like he loved me, too."
That, more than anything, was why she'd always come back. A selfish need to feel that, even if the illusion would shatter from both ends.
The carpet went out of focus, the words tumbling from her clumsy tongue before she was ready to say them. Maybe that was good. Maybe she'd never have been ready to say them. "I killed him, Ves. I killed my grandfather."
He frowned, just a moment, more in confusion than anything else. He'd expected something, that much was clear, but it wasn't that. Likely because the way she said it made it sound so unnatural for her. Estella had killed many people, by the necessity brought about from combat and being a part of the Inquisition. She'd killed people as a mercenary before that. But killing a family member, an old grandfather, was none of those things.
Ves didn't react overmuch, though, still just holding onto her hand and acting like he saw none of the room around him. Just her. "How? Why?" he asked. His tone wasn't accusatory or judging, even if it was a little shocked.
Right. Yes. How and why were important questions, even if she hadn't thought so at the time. Even if she had trouble thinking so now. No amount of thinking or dwelling or explaining herself to herself had ever eased the feeling of guilt that had seeded itself in her heart the day it happened.
She pushed out a shaky breath. "He'd always... he'd always say such cruel things, when he remembered." Before he'd started to forget, even. "He... he hated the fact that I'd killed her. That having two children was one too many for my mother. I was the second one, and the one that wasn't going to amount to anything." She'd felt it before anyone ever said it, but to her the fact that her grandfather thought so moved it from a little knot of doubt in her belly to indisputable fact. A bad trade, a fool's trade, his dear Genny for the girl who couldn't even wear the same face right. Who didn't have half the talent or the poise or the spirit.
"For a long time, that was all. I thought maybe if I just... if I just took care of him, maybe he'd stop thinking so. Maybe that feeling, like we were family, was something he might... he might feel about me. Maybe he just needed time, or I just needed to work harder, or something." Estella's hand shook in Ves's; she tightened her grip in an effort to make it stop. "But it got worse, maybe because I was getting older, because the memories were different." Her parents had met when her mother was quite young still; perhaps he tried without really being aware of it to keep away from those recollections.
"He hit me," she said softly. "He'd never done that before. I fell down, over there." She pointed to a spot against one of the walls. A painting in a house in the Emerald Graves had depicted the moment his shadow fell over her. "He had this staff. I was... I was afraid of what he was going to do with it, and I just... reacted. My magicâlike in the duel." A blind lash of force, desperate and panicked. "It knocked him backwards. He fell, and... the desk was in the way, and his head hit theâthe corner."
Estella wrapped her free arm around herself. "I ran to Master Horatio. He sent for Cyrus, and theyâthey got me out. Made it go away somehow, I don't know." She shook her head. "Somehow that feels almost as wrong. He was sick, and sad, and fragile, and I just... I killed him." She squeezed her eyes shut, a pair of tears slipping down her cheeks.
Ves looked like he wanted to hug her, but resisted. Perhaps until what needed to be said could be said. Of course, he looked to be having trouble figuring out what words were best. "I'm not sure if there's anything I can say that hasn't been said before, or that you haven't already thought yourself." Likely he was referring to justifications for it. Self-defense. It was an accident. She didn't mean to kill him. Ves didn't seem to want to justify it. Death was tricky like that.
"I don't think you deserve to pay for what happened, if that's what you think." He reached, wiping at a tear with the back of his fingers. "No one here can quantify the worth of someone's life. All you could do was live the way you have. If you'd paid for his death with your life, how much more good would've been lost without you?" He paused, perhaps to give her a second to think on it, or just to collect his own thoughts.
"Wherever he is now... I'd like to think he looks on you with clarity he never had in life. And I think he doesn't see you as your mother. After everything you've done with the chances you've been given, he has to see you as your own woman. Someone any man would be proud to call family."
She wanted to believe that was true. Wanted to believe he'd be proud of her. Somehow, though, she couldn't reconcile it. She still couldn't quite imagine that sort of regard directed at her. Not from Tiberius, at least. Maybe that was just their lot. And maybe her lot was to stitch together that feeling for herself, create it from bonds with people she met and came to know. No mothers or fathers or grandparents, but a brother and an uncle and beloved friends and the person in front of her, who thought so highly of her, even when she didn't quite understand it.
Estella leaned forward, letting her forehead rest against his chest. "The night I left, Cyrus told me... he said, 'don't stop running until you feel safe again.'" Her sense of safety had been lost that day, and even when her feet stopped propelling her south, she'd still been running. She'd never told anyone about this, because she was so afraid of facing it. And though so many of her fears had been hewn from her, or at least tamed until they were manageable, this one was the root of them all. That what she had done made her every bit as unworthy as she'd always believed.
"Youâyou make me feel safe, you know that?" Though she'd wondered how she'd find the guts to say it aloud, she'd never once doubted her decision to tell him. She wanted him to know. She didn't want there to be anything about her he didn't. And that would take time, to be sure, but she could believe they had that now. "You make me feel like I don't have to run anymore. From anything." Not from her history, not from anyone's disapproving eyes, not from all the things it seemed she couldn't do but had to anyway. It was still so hard to feel like she deserved thisâdeserved him.
But she was much too far gone to give him up.
He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her hair as he liked to do. "Whatever else comes our way, whatever form it takes, we can beat it together. That much, ma vhenan, I know."