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While Erenville was out visiting with the vendors in Wachumeqimeqi, especially his old family friend Shunye, Elayne decided to take a day to herself, cleaning up the cabin, working on flash sheets, and generally getting neglected affairs in order. Between the rite of succession, the mess with Alexandria, and helping her partner cope with his mother’s death, she hadn’t had much time or energy to deal with other important matters until now. She didn’t expect any visitors, but early in the afternoon, there was a knock on her door, one she had only heard a few times before. She got up and answered the door, and she found Y’shtola just outside.
“Oh, Elayne. I’m happy you’re here,” Y’shtola said. Her voice was softer than usual, her eyes downcast and expression solemn. Something wasn’t right. “Are you busy?”
“Afternoon, Shtola. I was taking a break from work, so no, you’re not bothering me. Was there something you needed?” Elayne asked.
“There was something I was wanting to talk to you about. Are you free?”
“Absolutely, come in.” Elayne ushered her inside and shut the door behind her. “Do you want something to drink?”
“It doesn’t matter, you truly don’t need to do anything for me,” Y’shtola protested, but it fell on deaf ears; Elayne joined her on the veranda with two steaming mugs of apple cinnamon cider. That was her; even if you did something wrong, she would still be there with a hot cup and a good meal. Most of the time, at least. Thankfully, Y’shtola had done nothing to earn the Au Ra’s ire.
“So, what’s going on? Were you needing help with your book?” Elayne asked, curling up in the rocking chair with her mug.
“No, that’s not what I’m here for. I…I recently found out my father, Y’rhul Nunh, passed away on an expedition to Nagxia,” Y’shtola informed her.
Elayne’s eyes went wide in sympathy. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, Shtola. Are you holding up okay?”
“I don’t…to tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure how I feel,” Y’shtola confessed quietly. “Usually I can work through these things without much trouble, but…I don’t know what to do here. I suppose it’s different when it’s your parent, but…”
“Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t. Do you want to talk about it?”
Y’shtola nodded.
“Knowing you and your scholarly brain, it might be best to start with the facts first. What happened?” Elayne asked, taking a sip and placing her mug down.
“Like I said, he was on an expedition to Nagxia. He was on a mission to procure some ancient literature — he was a gleaner. My younger half-sister, Y’nazqha, was with him — she too is a gleaner, in fact his protege. He contracted a local illness, and it soon took his life. Since it could spell dire consequences if the illness spread anywhere else, Y’nazqha was forced to cremate his body there. He wasn’t able to come home,” Y’shtola explained.
“I see. What was your relationship like with him? Have you spoken to your sisters about it?”
“He was my father, but…we were never close. I suppose it’s an occupational hazard, with twelve daughters, but even moreso when those twelve daughters are divided among several mothers,” she started. “He wrote to me when he could, mostly to check on my well-being and education, very rarely a visit, but that’s it. He was around more when I was younger, but not enough for a lasting impression. As for everyone else…you know Mhitra, and for me, that’s it. She's the only one I’m close to. She has a twin, Mallibo, but when they were born, our mother couldn’t care for us, so the Forum took over. I was placed with Matoya, and you know the story from there. She’s been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a proper parent.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
“No, I haven’t. We care for each other deeply, but frankly, if I had to choose between her and you to talk about my feelings, I would choose you in a heartbeat. You’re no less blunt, but at least you’re nice about it,” Y’shtola pointed out, making Elayne snort. “I just feel…ambivalent. We were not close; Erenville probably knew the man better than I did. I am not too terribly upset, but…I still feel as though I have lost something.”
“Grief is a strange thing. Sometimes you don’t feel what you expect. Sometimes you grieve things you never thought you would grieve. Sometimes what you think is one thing is something else entirely,” Elayne told her. “Just know that whatever you’re feeling is normal, no matter how strange it seems. If I were a betting woman, I’d say you were mourning what could have been.”
“That makes sense. If you care to speak of it…how did you deal with your father’s death?” Y’shtola asked curiously.
“I didn’t exactly deal with it until years later…I was in a life-or-death situation, and it was either grieve like a normal person or stay alive. So I didn’t get to properly grieve him really until after…I think it may have been after the PTSD diagnosis that it all hit me? Anyway, to answer your question — honestly I’d count both Papa’s and Deda’s deaths — I dealt with them surprisingly well. It made sense with Deda, he was eighty-five, health had been going down for a year, essentially old age. Papa was a lot different, and the circumstances were absolutely awful, but I still knew he was sick. The key factor was knowing it was coming. I usually handle it a lot better if I knew it was going to happen.”
“That is…an interesting way to look at it.”
“I know it might sound strange, impersonal, even downright unbothered, but believe me, I was torn up. And it has already been established that my emotions work differently than other people, so what someone may perceive as insensitive could be my way of getting upset,” Elayne told her.
“Were you close to them at all?”
“Are you kidding, Papa and Deda were the biggest people I had in my life until I was fourteen. Of course we were close. But,” Elayne sighed, “that does not mean parents don’t make mistakes. Papa did screw up a few times with my big brother. I would like to say Deda didn’t play favorites, but he was definitely closest to my dad among his four boys, after Aunt Shar died. In their defense, they were in a very bad situation with my grandmother, but they’re human too. Family is just like emotions — complicated.”
“Speaking of family, do you speak to your cousins at all? You know, Tselmuun, Solveig?” Y’shtola asked.
“Solveig, no. Tselmuun I write maybe a couple times a year, but it has been getting longer between letters. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind if we lost contact; it feels like I’m performing every time I think about her. Why do you ask?”
“I haven’t spoken with my sisters yet, besides Mhitra. Apparently he left something for all of us, and we are to meet with the oldest, Y’adebh, to receive them. I am not certain it will go very well,” Y’shtola admitted, taking a long drag of cider.
“You know you don’t have to speak to them if you don’t want to, right?” Elayne pointed out, shifting in her chair. “No one is going to ask questions.”
“I know that, but…I’ve been thinking about getting in more regular contact with them. Starlight cards, as you put it. What is your opinion there?” Y’shtola asked tentatively.
“Opinion? Shtola, it’s your business, no one else’s,” Elayne said. “Your choices with your family are not up to me.”
“…I understand. Could we change the subject for now, please?”
“Of course.” Elayne hopped up and got them refills of their cider, this time Jasmine following her back to the veranda. “Did Thancred or Urianger tell you the big news?”
“About them adopting a foundling left on their doorstep? They did,” Y’shtola confirmed, and this news finally made her smile. “I haven’t gotten to see her yet, but I hear she’s adorable.”
“She is the cutest human baby I have ever seen, aside from Sisi. She’s got this beautiful curly brown hair and eyes, and all these freckles on her cheeks,” Elayne gushed happily. “I never thought I would see Thancred so happy to be a dad again. He’s obviously adjusted well — though you should have seen him ask me when I was up there a couple weeks ago how to put a newborn in a wrap, it was hilarious. Urianger is having a tougher time because children are chaos, but I think she is growing on him. He just needs time to decompress when it gets too much.”
“And that is precisely why I am never having them,” Y’shtola said, laughing. “Do they have a name for her?”
“So since they’re up in Kievan Rus and the baby is obviously Rus, they wanted to go with a traditional name. They can’t really use their names for a Rus-style patronymic, so they went searching for her mother’s identity so they could, among other things, have a Varangian-style matronymic instead. Her name is Lubov Arunardottir Augurelt.”
Lubov…love. Suddenly Y’shtola felt a strange sensation in her heart. Elayne spoke of her the same way she spoke of Sisi. “I suppose Urianger came up with that?”
“He did. He’s very good at coming up with names,” she added.
“How is Sisi, by any chance?”
“Artoirel is taking her and Dad up here to Tuliyollal, so she’ll be here to wreak havoc soon. Eren and I are probably going to take her a few times while he and Dad have some father-son time, which I’m happy to do, she’s my baby. I’m not too entirely sold on kids of my own, but I am more than happy to be the cool aunt to her.”
“…Elayne?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“How much do you love being an aunt?” Y’shtola asked.
“I promised myself, before going to Ultima Thule, I would make it home to meet my niece, and I have never regretted that promise since. And now I have two nieces, which is even better.”
Y’shtola had never thought about nieces and nephews before. Mhitra was too married to her work to consider such a thing. But with eleven sisters, it was bound to happen at some point. Her happiest memories had been found as an apprentice with Matoya. Matoya disliked children even more than she did, but she could never hide the pride gleaming in her eyes whenever she saw Y’shtola get excited over learning something new. She didn’t think she would mind a similar relationship to that. Perhaps…
“If I tried to speak to my sisters,” she said suddenly, staring out at the clouds on the horizon, “do you think they would listen?”
“I’m sure one of them wouldn’t mind a proper relationship if you just asked,” Elayne advised with a hidden smile. “Who knows, you might just be surprised. But that’s all up to you.”
“…You know what?” Y’shtola set down her mug. “I think that is a wonderful idea. But who?”
“Figure out which one has your interests, or who you would like to learn from most,” Elayne suggested. “You’re all Sharlayan scholars, you should be able to bond over some kind of knowledge.”
“You and your excellent ideas. I must write home at once.”
“Really, you’re not going to sit here and gossip with me?” Elayne flashed her pleading eyes. “Come on, for old time’s sake, you know you love spilling the tea. Besides, I really don’t want to have to explain to my boyfriend how our goldendoodle got drunk on cider.”
Y’shtola cackled and sat back down with cider in hand, content to enjoy a relaxing afternoon of good drinks and good shade with her old friend.