All the Cost
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Elena of Avalor
Copyright: Disney
/
"I rewind the tape but all it does is pause
On the very moment all was lost
Sending signals
To be double crossed
(…)
And when I was shipwrecked (can't think of all the cost)
I thought of you (all the things that will be lost now)
In the cracks of light (can we just get a pause?)
I dreamed of you (to be certain we'll be tall again)"
Taylor Swift, "Evermore"
/
"I take it," said Esteban, "You don't feel like celebrating either?"
Elena stood on one of Nueva Vista Palace's many balconies, with her back to the Festival de la Libertad going on indoors and her face to the ocean below. It was a balmy summer night, but she had her arms wrapped around her middle as if she were cold. Ordinarily, he would remind her that it was bad form to leave a party thrown in your honor, but tonight of all nights, he couldn't blame her.
"No, I don't," she said. "I saw Cristobal's empty seat and I just … "
She threw up her hands and let her sentence trail off. Esteban required no explanation.
He came to stand next her, leaning his elbows on the railing. The view of the moon rising over the sea was deceptively peaceful. Cicadas chirped. Orchestral music carried from the ballroom. The smell of the canals was almost, but not quite, lost among the smells of food, alcohol and burning candles. You would never know a battle for the kingdom of Avalor had taken place here today, or that the ruling duke of this city had just been arrested for treason.
"There will have to be a trial, you know."
"I know." She glowered out at the sea. "But it shouldn't take long. We all know he's guilty, he told us himself. Let him stay in the Tower until he rots."
Esteban's stomach turned over. He would never tell her so, but sometimes he could almost trace a resemblance between Elena and Shuriki, more so every time those two had crossed magical scepters. They were both terribly single-minded; when they wanted to defeat someone, that person was the only thing they could see.
"I don't suppose you'd consider asking the judge for leniency?"
"Why should I?" she snapped.
"He is still family."
"He lost the right to be called that when he betrayed us all for gold."
In his heart of hearts, Esteban agreed with Elena, but today he had more than the usual reasons for playing devil's advocate. He'd never much liked Cristobal Castillo even when they were children, but now he couldn't help but see himself in the other man's place. If Elena ever found out the truth about Esteban's history with Shuriki, would she disown him too?
"You don't know what Shuriki can … could be like when she wanted you on her side," he said, forcibly reminding himself to use the past tense. "She has … had a charisma about her that was almost impossible to resist. One could hate her and still long for her approval. And as for the gold, well … sometimes people cling to power or wealth because they are afraid, and it makes them feel safe."
In two years, this was the closest he'd ever come to confiding in Elena. He held his breath as he waited for her answer. Was there any chance she'd understand?
But she shook her head and rolled her eyes, as if the idea of money making you feel safe were absurd. Well, no wonder; she'd never lived without it. Esteban had. As the king's nephew, he might have grown up in a palace, but as the son of a pirate captain and a runaway noblewoman, he'd spent his earliest years in tiny shipboard cabins and disreputable inns. Few people knew this about him and he preferred it that way, but certain patterns of thinking were difficult to escape.
Meanwhile Elena, still locked in a pattern of her own, was distracted from the matter at hand by the mention of Shuriki. She took a step back, one hand clenched at her fist and the other covering the blue jewel of her scepter. Her eyes were wide.
"Wait, are you … do you miss her?"
It was to her credit that she tried to keep the dismay out of her voice, but he heard it loud and clear.
He wished he had an answer that made sense, but the more he thought about it, the more contradictory his thoughts became. There were two Shurikis in his mind: the sorceress who had murdered his aunt and uncle, and the queen who had been his daily companion for forty-one years. There had been long quiet afternoons doing paperwork, sarcastic jokes at the expense of annoying trade partners, elegant ceremonies where they walked arm in arm and were the center of attention, real respect on her face when he delivered his financial reports … at least, he corrected himself bitterly, he'd believed the respect was real.
When she'd sent his family to the Tower this morning, she hadn't given him a second glance. While this was a relief in one sense, as it meant his secret was still safe, in another sense it was even worse. Anyone else would have taken it personally to have one's wand stolen by such a long-standing colleague. Anyone else would have cared at least enough to be angry. Instead, in Shuriki's eyes, Esteban might as well have been a broken tool she had no more use for. She never had respected him, and now she never would.
Raul and Lucia had done so much more than respect him. They'd loved him unconditionally, and he'd turned on them for … nothing.
"Esteban?"
Elena put her hand on his arm. In this, at least, she was nothing like Shuriki; her compassion was very real.
"No," he said, in answer to her question. "No, not her. I miss everything she took from me – from us – our lives, our family … " My clear conscience. "Everything we'll never get back."
He didn't even realize that he was about to cry until his throat seized up. Hot tears ran down his face. Lifelong habits told him to run and hide, but his only escape route would be through the crowded ballroom – and, in any case, Elena hugged him before he could draw another breath.
"Me too." She rubbed circles over his back. From the sound of her voice, he wasn't the only one with a lump in his throat. "I miss them every day."
He might be older, but she'd always been stronger in every sense. She held him up and let him cry himself out. When she stepped away and looked up at him, the torches that lit the balcony cast their flickering shadows over her face. For a moment, she looked almost like the woman she would be given her natural lifespan, a woman with a lifetime of hard-earned wisdom in her eyes.
"I'm not sure what to do with myself," she confessed. "Now that she's … now that I've killed her. Without revenge to focus on, I have to start my life all over again."
"This is true," said Esteban, recovering his dignity with his pocket-handkerchief, "But at the very least, you won't be starting it alone."
"I'm glad you're here, primo." She smiled up at him gratefully, but the term of endearment must have reminded her of Cristobal, because her smile faded quickly and she looked away. "You really are my only cousin now."
"I was joking when I said that."
"Yeah, well, it wasn't funny." She sighed. "If he was actually sorry for what he did … if he could prove it, not just sit there and put on a show … maybe I could forgive him. But I don't see how that's possible, do you?"
"For him, no." The way the duke had gloated over what he assumed to be his victory was enough to answer that question. For himself, however, Esteban dared to hope. If there was even the remotest chance for her forgiveness, he might earn it someday.
"We should go back there, shouldn't we?" Elena looked over her shoulder at the ballroom, where the orchestra was playing a frenetic samba. "All the people here will be worried. I need to talk to them."
"Quite right," said Esteban. "Cristobal must have followers. People like him always do. We need to persuade them it's in their best interest to support you instead. Perhaps you should leave this to me."
Politics did not come naturally to Elena, but after almost two years in power, she at least knew better than to ignore it. "Hey, I can be persuasive," she said, putting on her most regal smile. "I've made friends with monfuegos, how much harder can this be?"
"Let's see if you still think so by the end of the evening. Shall we?"
He held out his arm and she took it, gliding back into the party with their heads held high. With his cousin on his side, he could face anyone, even the courtiers of Nueva Vista.
Please, he prayed to any spirits who might be listening, please don't let me fail her.