Shattered Windows, Broken Locks

Ashe glanced at Kalt and his crooked grin at the mention of the girl's mother, and she held his gaze before finally looking back at his daughter. Who was her mother? What had happened to her?  She couldn't help it - the wondering. Kalt knew everything of how she had moved on from the heartbreak - first her infatuation with Jasper and engagement to him and... and Alistair. If he had been in Northaven, he certainly knew about her relationship with him. So what right did she have to be concerned over the woman that was the mother to his daughter?    Star. Ashe finally smirked again, looking between the pair as he identified her nickname. She didn’t know why that didn’t surprise her any, but she thought it was fitting as she looked down at the wriggling little girl. It was bright as she turned to look up at Ashe with her name -    The whole world jerked to a halt.    Theea. Her name was Theea.    Ashe’s breath left her all at once as her chest caved inwards, and she stared at the little girl. She stared, and stared, and all she could hear was her blood roaring in her ears. He named his daughter after her, came the distant thought. She had told only one person about Theea before, and it was briefly to Alistair. She’d never brought it up again after he had that clarification on what happened to her back. She never told anyone how much she loved the baby she had worked so hard to protect. Had failed to protect. Ashe began to tremble.    Her eyes turned up to look at Kalt as he spoke, her eyes wide. ’You remember Theea, Ashe?’ She couldn’t breathe. She had told Alistair she didn’t know what happened to Theea, had never found out the truth, but she did - she had known. Theea was gone. Gone. But… She turned her eyes back down to her, to that little dark-haired girl that was exactly the right age, whos features could be placed with that infant now that she looked, really looked. She couldn’t make herself inhale as she took in the slope of her nose, the roundness of her eyes, the delicately arched brows and high cheekbones…    The scars on her back were the mark of her greatest failure… and here she was. Gods. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t make her lungs work, and her head was spinning as she watched the little girl begin talking to no one in particular, her little voice saying something about a soft cody, tiny hands arranging the silk sheet. Entirely unaware of the assassin that was crumbling into a void as she watched her.    Can’t breathe.  She had grown. She thought of Theea, and she saw the soft face of a four month old little baby, eyes locked on her with uncoordinated arms and a bright smile she had just learned how to make. Ashe’s teeth were clenched as her entire body seemed to shake. Her greatest failure. Of everything she had done, all the horrible, terrible things she had done, losing her Theea would always be the worst. She had more than deserved those three weeks in the pit, the lashes to her back she had lost count of, the five weeks of torment that followed.    With blackness rimming her vision, Ashe suddenly pushed herself from the bed. Her leg nearly buckled when she stood as the room pitched, but she didn’t look back, couldn’t. She didn’t know what Theea would think - gods, Theea - but she made it out the door. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe. She stopped and stood on shaking legs in the hallway. Her hands clawed into her hair as she stared at the ground, shoulders curling inwards as she tried to make her chest work, but she could not breathe.    Theea was alive. Ashetta