I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
This was written because I wanted to practice dialogue, and telling a story in what others say to each other.
6\6\14: This was edited because I could not stand who stiff and just plain silly it read, or at least to me it did.
In this Rose is younger around 15 or so.
Enjoy,


Paths

Golden light from the late afternoon sun spilled into the room from latticed window, deepening the shadows of the darkened room where Rose sat alone. She was seated in an overstuffed armchair, with at book in her lap which she had not read a word of, in the middle of the floor in her chambers. The rooms were heated and muggy, the windows unopened to the glorious summer day, and the fireplaces were ablaze; forcing her suffer due to her own sour mood.

Rose had been seated there for a rather long time with a tall, very boney woman burst into the room, her thin lips set in deep scowl. The woman gave her such a dark look that made Rose feel as if were a naughty child about to chastised.

"You!" Cordelia bark, her reddened face was shining. "Do you have the simplest idea as to what you have done?"

Rose fought the urge to sink into the chair as the woman advanced. She nodded into her lap as she closed the book, watching Cordelia storm across the room.

"Muirgheal, you answer me this instant- Oh! Would you look at this room!" she cried as she hastily straightened her herself. Cordelia looked down at the book that she had tripped over and picked up, raising it into the air for Rose to see. "This, Muirgheal, this is an accident just waiting to happen! I could swear that I've taught you better! Oh, would look at your dress! What in Seigfrida's divine name have you done to it, this time?"

Rose did look down though she already knew what she would see. The embroidered collar of her dress was in ruins, the fine thread that had once shaped flowers and vines had been pulled out from fabric and looped. The dress the ruined, she knew, and while it was perhaps one of her favorites, she could not bring herself to care.

"I did nothing to it," she said quietly. She looked up at Cordelia, and folded her hands carefully in her lap.

"Oh?" Cordelia's eyebrows inched towards her hairline. She held the book she had in her hand to Rose. "Are you going to place blame on Lord Lakan for that as well?"

"I yet to say anything about Lakan," she said sharply, taking the book and setting in the floor beside the chair.

"He has the title of a Lord, Muirgheal. You are to respect that."

She scoffed. "His title is merely that."

Cordelia looked to the windows, pulling at the collar of her dress, and stood over to them. She unfastened the locks and swung the windows wide open in jerky movements, allowing a cool breeze to sweep into the room. "You have insulted him," she said after a long moment of looking at the grounds below, "both to his face and behind his back. Do you have no shame for actions?"

"No," said Rose, remembering the words and actions Lakan had insisted on that morning in the gardens. "He was given the very same respect he believes every person besides him merits."

"Oh, dear gods!" Cordelia cried dramatically. "Muirgheal, do you not know what lunacy you have reaped?"

Rose closed her eyes and sighed as she slowly stood up, the book hugged to her chest. "He cannot be dead, Cordelia, surely my words did not affect him that much."

"No, they did not," Cordelia said with a long sigh.

Rose turned away and looked out the window. "I apologize if my words caused you trouble, Cordelia. I only wished for Lakan to leave me alone."

"Lord Lakan is not as unpleasant as you seem to believe," Cordelia said with a tilted look and close-lipped smile.

Rose looked Cordelia her eyebrows raised; what was Cordelia getting at? The woman had been in the crossroads of the so called 'lord' many times before, and had ranted about his prude words and unjust accusations afterwards. Now Rose was beginning to think that perhaps- that well, perhaps but no, no, she was being silly.

"He is less pleasant than you dilute yourself to believe," Rose said softly, giving the woman a sidelong glance. She just want to be certain.

"Muirgheal," she warned. "Lord Lakan is a very powerful man. There are some things that are worth swallowing your pride and acting polite for. I may not care for the man but that does not mean you should insult him, and in public no less!" Cordelia swallowed and closed her eyes suddenly weary. "Lord Lakan is a very prideful man and you, Muirgheal, have just insulted his honor. For men like him there honor is their important possession, and it may drive to do what others would not."

With a frown, Rose nodded. "I did not intend to offend him," she said. "It simply came out."

Cordelia leaned against the wall near the window and puff up her cheeks, it made her look like a squirrel packing nuts. "Then perhaps you should learn to control yourself," she said tautly. "So that next time you poke at an ant's nest you shan't find that it to be filled with hornets."

"I do believe that Lakan is as much a hornet as a maggot is."

Cordelia jolted straight and clasped her hand over her mouth, her small eyes widening. "Good gods, Muirgheal," she said breathily. "Please, learn to control yourself, so that I feel that I have the right to defend you before something truly terrible happens."

Rose turned away, her jaw firm. She studied the way the sunlight played with the reflection of the mirror, how the light hit through the glass bottles. She did not know what to say. She did not want to say anything.

Next to the mirror was a large chest of draws, which hide something that was to Rose rather important, she hated it, but it was valuable to her all the same. Frowning, she gritted her teeth, wiching that Cordelia would just leave her be.

"Remember that silence, Muirgheal," said Cordelia after a time. "There is a strength in silence, very few understand that."

"I know," she said. "You've only told that more times than I can count." She refused to look at Cordelia now that the anger that she thought she vented through her insult had returned. Cordelia would see that, Rose knew she would, and then she would be in for another round of the woman's scolding. "My parents did not understand that silence, did they?"

"No, they did not," Cordelia said, walking to the doorway. "Your mother understood some of it but your father knew nothing. You know better than do as they did, Muirgheal, but if you continue down this path you soon look into reflection and see something of their likeness. I know you smarter than that, so start acting like you are more." She stopped and smiled tightly at Rose as she opened the door. "I'm going to leave you now there are somethings that I must do."

Rose nodded and looked away.

She heard the door click shut and then in a sudden burst of anger, she impulsively hurled the book she in into the fire.

The fire in the blaizer popped and sputtered, propelling small glowing flacks of a burning book up the flue and into Rose's face. She stepped back hastily, stepping on the long skirt of her dress tripping over it. Grabbing ahold of the back of an armchair, she caught herself and straightened.

She did not know why she had brought them up but now that the question was asked and answered Rose could not take it back. Cordelia was the only person who could tell Rose about her parents, having lived within their walls while they were still alive. She hardly said a word about them, though. As child Rose had asked many questions about them, many of which Cordelia did not answer but the ones she did Rose found to be crisp and unsettling, and it was not long until the questions about her parents stopped. Rose left to make her own options of them which turned out to be anger, mostly, but a very small part of her was curious.

Rose watched the paper blacken and curl, thinking that perhaps she knew nothing about what Cordelia had just said. If she were on the path that lead to whatever it was that her parents were, how could she know? She knew nothing of them but from what she had heard, she knew it was something she did not wish for.

Some paths, she thought, are a little too crowded.