Chapter Text
"No matter what happens, sister, we are still family. Don't ever forget that."
Were they still family, if she could not even stomach the thought of seeing them again?
Were they still family, if the news of their arrival forced her to abandon her son for fear of what they might do to him?
Were they still family, if she was gagged and bound and unable to do anything but listen to her daughter's cries as they ripped her from her arms?
She had run from home to see the world. That was the lie she had prepared to tell her father.
She had run from home to find adventure, before she lost as much hair as he. That was the taunt she had prepared to tell her brother.
She had run from home because she was confused -- how had smug Lex and innocent Azel joined the side of a traitor? -- because she was lonely without their constant bickering and teasing, because she was afraid that she would soon have to raise Thoron against her only true friends in the world. That was the cold truth she refused to acknowledge, for she had never felt so foolish and so ashamed.
The skies turned the red of blood and the earth to ash, and the world had come crashing down on them without warning.
They had been so close.
So close to home, to safety, to glory.
Perhaps they had hoped for too much; perhaps they had soared too close to the sun.
(But perhaps they had never had a chance to begin with, for the hand of fate was fickle and too often cruel.)
Their righteousness had been condemned as rebellion, the truth scraped away as easily as one might an old scab, for what was justice in the face of strength?
But what concern did the dead have for their legacy? It was left to the ones who remained alive, the ones for whom they had laid down their lives, to bear the grudge in their stead.
"Did you think I would ever forgive you --"
(Her brother's face was a mask of anger, yet, despite herself, she could not help but notice that his hairline had receded further. If it weren’t for the circumstances, she would have laughed.)
"-- for what you did to Father?"
"Brother, Father was in the wrong -- he committed murder for the sake of--"
"That's rich, Tailtiu!" Bloom scoffed. "As if you and your rebel army didn't bathe in your fair share of bloodshed. Take her away!"
"Sister," Bloom leaned against the door of her rooms, watching as she cradled her sleeping daughter whom he had ordered to be safely returned to her that morning. "You understand, I have to put up pretenses like this, and I cannot go against my wife who reports directly to the capital. House Friege cannot be suspected of further rebellion towards the Empire."
She didn't reply, even after he paused.
"I have children of my own, sister, and I know how it must pain you to have lost your son in Silesse, but it was never my intention to cause you any grief. You are still my sister, even if you were a part of the rebels who killed our father."
She didn't even turn to look at him. But he stubbornly persisted, trying to make her understand, trying to justify himself.
"Don't you remember? Father was always lecturing us on the strength of a united family, of leaving a legacy that will survive long after your bones become dust. Do you understand? It was all for our family, for the glory of House Friege. And even if he acted immorally, he is still our father."
She still refused to speak to him, though he knew by the way her shoulders tensed that she had indeed heard him. He sighed resignedly. That was probably as much reaction as he could hope for. "If there is anything you need, tell the guards outside. I will try to arrange it."
And right before her chamber doors closed behind him, he heard her whisper, "Coward."
She would hold fast onto her anger, for the son she abandoned and the husband who would never return, for her comrades who had lost their lives and the carefree days of childhood now only a distant memory — as if doing so might free her and her innocent daughter from the clutches of the cruel fate which had taken all that she held dear.