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“I know you didn’t like this kind when Isolde made it for you.”
Gwen briefly balanced the entire tea set in one hand so she could lift her skirt to sit herself down. The cut stone and gravel flooring could have been more comfortable, but she didn’t make a habit of spending too long here at once. At least, not after the first few times.
“But I tend to be partial to her craft.” Gwen swallowed a “more than you ever were” that she wanted to throw out. But that would be unnecessary, and that would be rude. Gwen understood, perhaps more than anyone, that even he could hurt.
The ruined king of ruined Camavor floated over the scene. Trapped in what Gwen always thought looked like liquid stained glass, or maybe a sunbeam turned upside down. He didn’t look regal, though he never really did. Really, this position suited him more than a throne ever did. But that line of thinking was not helpful. Gwen wasn’t here to be mean.
She set out a cup for the king, and a cup for herself. Each was delicately filled with an exotic tea she hadn’t had the chance to try in years. Grown all the way in Camavor, it was a long way for the merchants to travel. It was customary to let the guest have the first taste, even if Gwen was excited to try it herself. Isolde used to make it for her, when she was still a doll. So many bright afternoons in her parlor, and then later so many dark evenings hiding her in a back room. Gwen was always happy to be with her. Unfortunately, she never got to taste the tea when she was a doll. Yet another blessing that being alive gives her.
“I wondered if you might like a taste of home, all the way out here. Something to remind you of her.”
Gwen picked up her own cup, a fine piece of Piltovan pottery covered in beautiful flower prints, and brought it close to her lips. The hot steam brought a smile to her face as she waited for it to cool, just slightly, in the frigid air.
“I’m still living with my girlfriend. I’ve been trying to get out more and meet people, more sincerely. She makes it easier to bear, I think.”
Gwen ran a gloved thumb across the rim of her cup. Then, with a perfectly consistent motion, she lifted the tea to her mouth and took a sip. It was good. Very sweet. Gwen figured that that was not why Viego had hated it.
“I still think that you would quite dislike her. She would be too… noisy, perhaps, for you.” She set her cup down and let her gaze drift into the watery blackness that surrounded the pavilion. She didn’t notice her eyes nearly closing.
“Of course I still have some of Isolde’s old things. Her memory will still live on after you, don’t you worry.” Gwen choked a gasping breath in. With focus, she let it out slowly and consistently. Only a small drop of water formed in just one of her eyes. Probably just from the wind. “She was already immortal to me. She still is.”
Gwen reformed her posture with a start, correcting herself until it was perfect, like a doll’s. Instead of looking at Viego’s eyes, she let herself look at his chin. It was close enough to proper etiquette.
“The tea really is quite good.”
Gwen didn’t say anything else until her cup was drained. The chilly wind always rushed her a little bit more than she would normally be at home. Her nightgown wasn’t made for the cold. Once she was sated, she stacked her dishes back up. Viego’s undrunk tea was uncaringly tossed aside to recover the cup. Gwen dusted herself off, stood up, and straightened the fabric of her skirt. She picked up her tea set and took one step back towards the portal.
“Seraphine asked me if I forgave you.” Gwen didn’t look back towards him, but she did tap her feet into the dirt. Her cheeks puffed out and she let out a long and slow sigh before continuing.
“I said no, of course, but…”
This time she did turn towards Viego, but kept her head tilted.
“I did wonder if Isolde would. And… if you’ve thought about that.”
Gwen didn’t move until a sudden gust of wind shook her hair, but Viego never responded.
It only took a spin and a hop to get back home. It was still dark, since she only ever took these trips during the night, but not too dark. Piltover never got all too dark, and even with that, Seraphine insisted on keeping a light on during the night. She always meant to get a hextech lamp to use, but Gwen secretly preferred having a simple candle.
Sometimes she thought of stories Isolde would tell her of sneaking out in the night, before she was bride to a king, and looking at the stars. Isolde had several half-remembered stories about them that she would tell again and again. Gwen heard several more since becoming alive, but they never captured her as much.
The candle light was just enough to navigate through the living room and into the kitchen, where she could drop off the tea set. She was careful to be quiet, because she knew her head wouldn’t be any time soon.
Gwen took a moment to look around the room. The shadows from the candle danced and spun around the fractured shadows cast by the open window at the far wall. The light of the moon and half a dozen different street lights made sure there were enough shadows to play all the dancers in any ballet. She wondered if Isolde’s rooms looked more like this before she married Viego, when she still snuck out to look at the stars.
In the bed, Seraphine’s eyes were closed, and she was too bad an actor to fake sleeping, so Gwen let her kiss be brief. No matter how gently or how quietly Gwen returned to bed, something in Seraphine’s unconscious would cause her to scoot closer to Gwen and make perhaps the cutest sigh that Gwen had ever heard.
It was never hard to fall asleep in her arms.
Gwen woke up when Seraphine’s getting out of bed let in a gust of cold wind and took her body heat with her. Gwen normally was the one to wake up first, but the sun poking up over the skyline was proof that she had overslept. She let herself a few minutes to seep in the blankets, six and a half, assuming their house clock had been wound recently, before changing out of the sheets in favor of a dress. The precise measurement of time was still a bit of a wonder to Gwen. She excitedly measured fourteen minutes to get her outfit in order, including gloves but not shoes since today would be a relaxed morning.
When she arrived in the kitchen, she found Seraphine already pouring her a cup of tea. The tea set was the very one Viego had been served with last night.
“I’m guessing I’ll be the third person to try this tea?” Seraphine couldn’t help but be incredibly cute, no matter how groggy she so clearly was.
“Oh, I do apologize.” Gwen always laughed whenever Seraphine asked how she was always so energetic in the morning. She could only reply that she was excited to be alive, and Seraphine could only shake her head in disbelief. “I promise I would have gotten to cleaning those soon enough.”
“I don’t mind doing the dishes, sweetheart.” Seraphine sat down at their small table and pushed Gwen’s cup toward her. The flower centerpiece casted half a shadow on the tea cup.
Seraphine didn’t say anything more, so Gwen sat down and let herself enjoy the tea. It really was good. It tasted like air felt through one of the Zaunite rebreathers.
After a few mutual sips, Seraphine cracked. “Do you feel better?” she asked.
Gwen looked out the far window and exhaled all the breath in her body. “I believe so.”
“And nothing bad happened?”
“Everything went exactly as it always does.” Gwen wasn’t sure why her throat tightened.
“That’s good.” Seraphine set her tea down and wore a face like she was refusing to drink out of protest.
Gwen pursed her lips. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You know, you can always accompany me. The offer is very much still on the table.”
“I just don’t understand-” Seraphine looked very intently at the flowers on the table. They were pretty despite the life fading from them. “-why you care so much about the Ruined King. After what he did.”
Gwen allowed herself a moment. ‘Ruined’ was an interesting way to describe her maker’s husband. He hadn’t changed much, Gwen didn’t think. There wasn’t much to ruin.
Seraphine very intentionally lifted her cup to her mouth and took a sip, more to move her hands than to drink the liquid.
When Gwen spoke, her voice was soft and level. “Do you remember what you said after the enforcers arrested you?” she said. “You said you ‘never realized how hard it was to be helpless.’”
“I did, but-”
“And that made me realize something. It made me understand how lucky I am to be alive, and how wonderful my maker is for giving me that gift.” Gwen didn’t look away from Seraphine’s bright eyes. “It hurt so much, every day, watching what that man did to Isolde, and not being able to move to protect her.”
“Gwen, I know how much he hurt you.” Seraphine grabbed at her pants with her hands and shook her head in disbelief. “I just don’t- I don’t get it.”
“Don’t you see? It’s the same thing.” Gwen finally tilted her head down and let her eyelids droop, like a doll halfway put down to sleep. “He’s trapped in there, without his love, and he can’t do anything about it. At least I can give him some company. It’s what I would do if I could to that doll in Camavor. It’s what you would do to that young boy in your father’s shop, if you could.”
Seraphine huffed out a laugh. “Low blow.”
“It is true.”
“Yeah.” She blinked, then added, “Even if you hate him?”
“Just as he hated me.”
Seraphine turned her head to gaze out the window, and held it there. She kept staring as if she could stop time there, or maybe as if she could go back into history. Neither girl said a word until the tea was finished.