emptiness in harmony

evie The kind of flawless I wish I could be The journey feels longer than it has ever felt. This path which she has committed to memory, which she could walk blind and senseless, seems winding and unfamiliar. In the time since she last saw Amalia - not rushing off to Deimos or disappearing out any manner of door, but close enough to hold her hand, to speak with her alone - it seems her entire world has changed. As she has for every life-changing moment in her years, she finds herself here once more. Indisputably changed, and searching once more for the comfort of an immortalized notion of home. The bakery is the closest she has to such an ideal. The manor holds nothing but bitter memories and her mother's cold soul. Her Apothecary, for all she has built it up stubbornly around herself, is meant only for herself and reminds her at times of how lonely she is. Here, she can sink into the scent of lilac and freshly baked bread, can open the door with no hesitation or concern for whether she will be greeted. Except maybe, this time, she won't. Or at least this will be the last time, depending on how this conversation unfolds. "Amalia? Do you have a moment?" Stepping through the door, her blue eyes search for the younger woman, hoping there are no patrons so that she may steal her sister away for a time.

she didn't want to love
she wanted to b e l o v e d
and that was entirely different

Amalia stands behind the counter, slowly kneading a loaf of dough. Her face is blank; fresh scars still pepper it, a constellation of shrapnel wounds dotting her right temple, more hidden down below the armor of her high-collared shirt. Since LongNight there has been something broken, shattered in the girl and put together with sparkly tape, wounds deeper than the shrapnel could ever hope to make. She hides it beneath more clothing than usual, but the pain is clearly there.

As the door creaks open that broken part is visible in the fear and alarm that washes over her face, a moment of panic before relief settles in its place. "Evie!" the girl greets her sister with just a little too much brightness, alto voice more chipper than usual, just a little too high. "I'm the one who should be asking you, Your Majesty!" Laughing a little, the Shield slips around the counter and reaches out to give her sister a hug.

Amalia

we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in

evie The kind of flawless I wish I could be The brief glimpse she sees of her sister's face is enough to crush what little hope fills her breast, but Evie doesn't let it flit across her face. Far too controlled to allow such a slip-up, not when she has had to hide so many of her own reactions over the years. Amalia is clearly doing her best to appear put together, perhaps in some sort of desperate bid to convince herself she is. Evie can relate all too well to the way that feels, the darkness that seems to seep into each open pore and ill-concealed wound, like trying to wipe tar off bloodied hands but finding it refuses to part from your skin. Perhaps another pair of hands would help, but Evie knows that what she has come to do, to say, will be of no real use. Will likely harm more than it helps. And yet her feet carry her nervelessly across the floor, because Evie has faced down too much, has learned to never turn away or cringe from the worst the world has to offer. Even if you are the one to herald its arrival. Still, she embraces her sister while she still can, clinging perhaps a little too long or too tight. Though her eyes are warm, tired edges a little smoothed by Amalia's presence. "Oh Gods, if you start calling me Majesty I might just have to throw the crown at someone else." Chuckling to herself, she herds Amalia back behind the counter, shooing her back towards the dough while she leans her hip against the wood in a motion so comfortable and well-practiced it makes her heart ache. "I...I'm glad to see you're doing better, Lia. This LongNight...well, it's never easy, but I wasn't prepared for everything that happened." A hand rises to run over her tired face, sighing. "Gods, Amalia, what am I even doing? Queen? I feel like I'm spitting on Rexanna's memory. And I...I..." she knows she has to say it, but she's terrified to do it too soon, to devolve into shouting and heartbreak and possibly worse. Abandonment. Loneliness. So instead she diverts to another topic, one still rigged with wire and hidden holes that will surely trip them up, but one that isn't so devastating to talk about. "I've completely forsaken the Gods, Amalia. Not long before LongNight. And I don't know how to reconcile that with my family, with ruling this land that I love so much. Especially with what looks like another war staring us down." Family that tears her in two separate directions, Sam and The Voice and Amalia and the Old Gods. Both of which she cannot allow herself to follow. But will her decision damn her people, now that she has power over their way of life?

she didn't want to love
she wanted to b e l o v e d
and that was entirely different

Though no small part of her is reluctant to release the anchor of Evie's embrace, Amalia nonetheless is obedient to her sister, disengaging and returning to the cold loneliness of the back of the counter, her facade slipping for a moment before the smile returns. It's such a natural thing, the two of them set opposite like this. A flashback to a memory of a simpler time; Amalia wants desperately to sink her claws in and never let go, to sit in this familiarity and staunchly defy the inevitability of further trauma.

Alas, though, they are all of them haunted, condemned to trauma again and again. The reminder of LongNight stings like a whip; looking away to the shrine at the window the Shield unconsciously rubs at a place on her right arm where more wounds lay hidden, swallowing back the memory of the boy exploding in her arms.

At least the point Evie brings is an easy one. Snorting a note of almost-laughter, Amalia shakes her head. "You're better suited to be our queen than she ever was," the girl says softly, not caring that it may be tactless, in wretched taste to speak ill of the dead. Resolute and steadfast the Shield looks back to her sister, a firm certainty in the dark eyes that outshines even her fear. "You're from this land. You know and care about our people and our customs, and you're stronger than she ever was. Stronger than any of them. Even Wessex."

And while Amalia cannot deny that the next revelation hurts her, she cannot say she is surprised. Evie has never shared the Shield's love of their deities: Abandoned, the Evergreen has always been closer to Rishima's views. "What do you mean?" she questions carefully, returning to her kneading, a furrow in her brow. Better to hear the extent of the transgression before offering ways to make it better, even if her mind is already feeling with plans for reconciliation.

Amalia

we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in

evie The kind of flawless I wish I could be The reluctance is shared, but ever since accepting her new role Evie has felt reluctant to linger too long in motions such as these. Feeling constantly hounded by the days that draw out in the wake of LongNight, aware that there is still so much to be done, to achieve, and so few hours in each day to accomplish them. How can she linger in her sister's arms and take comfort while her people mull about, uncertain and waiting for guidance in the wake of Rexanna's death? There is so much more to consider than her own feelings now, and though she can already tell it's a regret she'll have long into the future, all Evie has ever wanted is to help her people. If that means removing comfort and care from her own days, it's a sacrifice she's willing to make. Even if it hurts to impose that sacrifice upon Amalia as well, unwilling participant as she is. A flush of pleasure suffuses her freckled cheeks all the same, tactless or not. "Your support means more than anyone else's, Amalia. I just hope I don't prove you wrong." That she doesn't show herself foolish to have been the only one to raise her voice, to throw her name into the empty ring, only to be proven weak and insufficient as a ruler. "All we can do now is try our best. I've...I've already asked Deimos to continue in his role as General. I know it wasn't an easy question, nor decision on his behalf, and I know asking even remotely the same of you is just as cruel in the wake of what happened during LongNight." She pushes back her fiery hair with a stray hand, lines in the corners of her eyes tight with stress and trying to build a council on the backs of those already too weary to continue on. But it ties into what she has already admitted, confessed, and she can't back away now. "I have prayed every season, every year of my life. I have not spoken ill of your Gods, because they care for you, they have sheltered and raised you in ways I never could as your sister. But they still refuse to even give me a chance, Amalia. Year after year of fealty, of hope, of desperation. Nothing but silence. I...I have given up. Even if they met me now, likely only because of my connection to you, I would not be able to respect them." Because she knows in her heart that Amalia would offer. That she would accompany Evie to any shrine, to try and use her own sway to get Evie into the graces of the Gods. But it is Evie, now, who is the rock in this equation. The faultering force. "I never asked to be born Abandoned. I hid my magic, I tried to atone. How can I follow them when they are so cruel and biased? When I have done nothing but praise and worship them with every breath?" Blue eyes close in a pained grimace, aware of the transgressions she's making, the blasphemy Amalia is sure to equate her words to. "I was desperate enough to even consider having Sam introduce me to The Voice. To at least discern for myself her personality, her plans. Instead, she revealed my magic, my race, to Sam without ever asking my permission. Even The Voice would rather harm me than endear me to her, do you see?" Turning away from the counter so that her back is to it, she pushes both hands into her hair to cradle her own face, fighting back tears of both stress and dismay. Evie has fought for so long, and for what? Silence. Favoritism shown to both her siblings on separate sides, only driving her family further apart while she remains an untouched island in the middle of it all. Trying to keep them together and failing at every turn. "I can't ignore their existence as Queen. Though I may strive to never deal with them personally now, I won't forsake our people because of my decision. And...I know your path may take you elsewhere, but I wanted to ask you first, if you would be an Oracle in my court. If you would even be interested, to be that link between the Grounds and the Gods. To be what I can't be now."

she didn't want to love
she wanted to b e l o v e d
and that was entirely different

She can feel the question before it comes, her head already shaking. But she holds her tongue, letting her sister speak and explain, each word a searing burst of pain for the woman she loves so dearly, who had never known the joy and purpose of belonging to the gods. Her mouth opens to extend an offer Evie clearly expects, falling shut just as quickly, sad disappointment clear in her face. Not for Evie - never for Evie - but for the state of their world, a reality in which the gods must differentiate for fear of another imbalance.

Another Voice.

She winces and bites her lip at the mention of that goddess, bitterly unsurprised by the betrayal. "Sam left her," the Shield says softly, her only interjection thus far. Sam had seen how destructive the Voice could be. Surely their family can at least unite on this point, now.

It isn't until Evie turns that Amalia moves from her work, slipping out from behind the counter and into a space by her sister. A space carved out for her, a space made by something deeper than blood. Slender arms wrap around the new Queen's waist; a golden crown tears upon the crimson shoulder. Silence. Comfort. Forgiveness. Love.

This is all she can give.

"I'm sorry, Evie." The low dark alto so rich and fragile, so much like her mother's voice. Amalia is sorry for so many things, this not least among them. "I will always be here for you, to support you... To love you. But I can't." Closing her eyes, the Shield shudders a sigh. "You want an Oracle, but as long as the Voice's presence is allowed, and her influence... I can't be part of it. And I won't put you in a position of choosing between your people and my gods. I... Wouldn't wish that on anyone else."

Amalia

we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in

evie The kind of flawless I wish I could be It only hurts all the more to see the gears turning through Amalia's guileless face, to know that she's blaming The Voice and what she did for the Gods' prejudice. As if they have not had years upon years of peace and silence from the Abandoned after a singular injustice. As if Evie had not prayed and thrown herself upon every shrine, begging to Attune, to even just prove herself. Silence had killed her hope in the Gods more than bitter words or hatred ever could. There's nothing more Amalia can do for her that wouldn't feel like a cheap consolation prize, gritted smiles and briefly shook hands all because their darling Shield asked of it, not because Evie was actually worth any of their attention. It's why she cuts off the opportunity she knows Amalia would offer - can't bear to hear it, not when it will just bring all those feelings back in an array of knives. She can't handle any more right now, already feeling sore and wounded inside in so many other ways. But at least there's the news that Sam has apparently left The Voice's side, and surprise wars with relief on Evie's emotional features. It's hard to coordinate the jumble of her thoughts, the million questions that try to rear their head collectively in a din of noise that she can only blink through. "And will it last? Physically, can he?" Perhaps it's pessimistic, but Amalia has always been the dreamer, the girl with her head caught in the stars. Evie has never been allowed that kind of daydreaming fantasy. She is too well-rooted, too worn and faded, for such hope. It's why she does nothing more than lean into Amalia's embrace, the denial having already been expected in some measure. Evie knows her sister after all, and even if this mounting fervor against the Ascended makes her withdraw in some measure from the other woman, it's not something that will impact the initial question of the position. "And you know I won't leave homeless anyone who seeks a home here. I know. I know." Her dirt stained hands go back to her hair, tugging at the strands until her eyes water to try and gain some semblance of control over her spiraling emotions. "I just...wanted to ask. And if you know of anyone else, to let me know. I won't cripple the Grounds with my refusal to work with the Gods." And she knows that's what would happen, because the Gods want to be needed. They stick their noses into every mortal affair except the ones that matter. Bitterness swells in her breast once more, and she drags her calloused palms down her face to shutter herself into darkness. Amalia's warmth the only physical sensation she can cling to. "My magic continues to grow no matter what I do. And despite it all, I was not strong enough to face the monsters behind the door. And Millicent and her kids died because of it." The admission that will end it all, she's sure. Or start it, perhaps. The accusations, the anger, the vitriol. All because Evie was not a Shield, was not a Chosen one, was not anything good enough. But at least, in the end, she can claim to be honest.

she didn't want to love
she wanted to b e l o v e d
and that was entirely different

Guilt pangs through her chest like arrows; she cannot help but feel that she is abandoning her sister in an hour of need, leaving her open and vulnerable to the wolves. She wants to cling to Evie, to recapture the wonder of their girlhood when all they needed was each other, when they were young and vibrant and fearless in the world. She would have promised her sister anything and believed in the strength of the oath, but now?

Now Amalia has made too many promises only to watch them crumble and die. She has been pulled in too many directions and failed too many times.

The next confession is another blow, striking through the heart. Millicent and her children bring to mind immediately images and faces and smiles, the loss sinking heavily into her heart. But to see the Evergreen blame herself... "Evie... no."

Reaching up with careful fingers Amalia tries to steal Evie's hands, to take them from her face that she might meet those sky-blue eyes. "There was- there wasn't anything you could have done." She should have been there- where had she been? Beneath the weight of her own guilt it is hard for the Shield to stand. "You didn't know. And if the monsters had gotten in... or if you'd been hurt-"

Fierce and sudden the girl wraps her arms around the Evergreen, face buried in her hair. "I can't lose you, Evie. I can't. I've already... please. Promise you won't leave."

Amalia

we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in

evie The kind of flawless I wish I could be Time seems vapid and slow, encasing her in apathy and drudgery as she awaits judgement from her sister's mouth. It is the hardest thing she has ever had to do, to stand there and force herself not to flee from the breaking of this bond. Except...it doesn't come. The touch is gentle, and Evie does not try and fight it. Letting her hands be withdrawn, to open her eyes so full of grief and pain to gaze upon Amalia's face. You're a murderer, she tells herself, and wonders how Amalia can place her hands upon those which hold the blood of innocents. Tears slip slowly from her eyes, silent and agonized. Words don't even try and come until Amalia has embraced her, and only then does she shake with a single sob and cling to the smaller woman. Forgiveness feels like a scorching flame, hurting while it cleanses her away. This is the closest she'll ever get to salvation, already lost to the Gods as she is. "I should have tried!" she cries helplessly into the crook of Amalia's throat, her insistence wobbling and unsteady on broken tone. And yet even in the depths of her pain, Amalia's pleas call out to that big sister inside her, the one that gives and gives and gives even when there is nothing left. So Evie forces her shattered pieces together, forces herself to stop her infernal tears, and makes herself be that big sister again. To comfort. To assure. "I-I won't leave you Lia. I promise, I won't."

she didn't want to love
she wanted to b e l o v e d
and that was entirely different

She's selfish to keep asking and taking, and yet that's what Amalia does. Even in this moment of difficult confession Amalia clings to Evie, asks for more, for the constancy she cannot promise herself. "You did try. I should have been there." Guilt breaks her voice, hardship and pain. Each of them carries more than they have the strength for. Each of them rises after their hardships, a little bit stronger and a little more fragile for all that they have seen.

The promise is a balm for Amalia's insecurities, an oath she can count on her sister to keep- or at the very least, try. "I won't leave you either," she murmurs into the fiery locks now damp with tears, tightening her grip another moment before at last letting go, stepping back to wipe her eyes with a calloused palm.

"Do you... do you want to talk more? I can make tea. I should... I should tell you about the things I saw, too." Spires and deaths, losses and pain. Sam and Ronin and Wessex and the rest of it- Amalia wants to share it all. Without waiting for a reply the girl begins to set up the kettle, ready to settle in with her sister for a long, much-needed talk.

{fin}

Amalia

we are all b r o k e n
that's how the l i g h t gets in