Interlude: Hearthfire (7)

10 Last Seed, 4E208

I wipe my brow with the back of my sleeve, half-listening to the sound of retreating footsteps. The wind is gentle today, but it smells like deepening cold and shorter days, and I've a mind to sit and let it cool me down while I think things through.

Corinna's starting to realize that she's different from the other children here: while they are pulled away to learn about the basics of magic, she and I take up wooden swords on the Arch-Mage's spacious stone balcony. Today she asked me why.

I didn't lie. I told her that it was because she can't seem to cast magic… but I did try to put it lightly. She's just too young to start blaming herself for something she can't control. It was best to just tell her what she needs to know and then remind her to keep practicing her forms, which she did, until Amara called her for an afternoon meal.

I don't want to go inside yet, though, so I pull up an old wooden chair, take a seat, and go about packing my pipe.

The situation with Corinna's magic bothers Amara a lot more than it does me. Maybe it's because I'm not a mage myself, or maybe it's a family heritage issue I can't possibly understand, but I really do think this Turn Undead effect she has… if that really is what it is… is actually a blessing in disguise. It means that she'll be able to protect herself.

It's as good a magical birthright as any, in my opinion. House Aestus has been known to produce stranger types, after all, the legendary Dragonborn among them.

A burst of wind buffets my ears and nearly drowns out the sound of a new body approaching the balcony door, but the stride is so unique that I already know who it is before she makes an appearance. I glance at Faralda from over my shoulder: she's nearly four months in and just beginning to show, and I'm honestly surprised that Leon isn't with her. He's stuck to her like a second shadow ever since she broke the news.

In any case, she looks relieved to see it's just me out here. She shuts the door behind her and pulls up a chair beside mine. "Do me a favor and tell me if you sense him coming."

I shrug, smirking. "Not sure how much good it'll do you, seeing as that door's your only exit."

"Doesn't mean I can't turn myself invisible, even if it'll only buy me a few minutes." She stretches and tilts her head up to the sky. "I like being cared for, but this is getting a little ridiculous, even for him."

"Makes me a bit thoughtful, truth be told." I pull on my pipe. "We were both like that with Amara, too. I know that back then we were in some kind of danger more often than we weren't, but I think that feeling can stay with you for a long time afterward."

"He's been through a lot. I know. He's told me most of it: about his first wife and the rest of Amara's journey and all that." She goes quiet for a few seconds. "Their whole line's seen horrors I don't even want to imagine. I try to remind myself of that whenever his fawning starts to get on my nerves. He's overcompensating, but I know his heart's in the right place."

I give her a sly glance. "Hasn't stopped your little game of hide-and-seek."

"I never said I'm perfect," she retorts, but not in a mean way.

I make a low sound as a way of saying I've heard her, but I can't think of a way to keep the conversation flowing. I've never been the best at social situations, and I've got other things on my mind anyway. I start drumming my fingers on the armrest, a little awkward and restless.

Faralda notices. "You don't have to stay out here if you don't want to."

I pull on my pipe again and try to stop my fidgeting. "It's not that…"

Should I try talking to her about it? Am I allowed?

I look over at her when I feel her pat my arm. "Has anyone ever told you that you're easy to read?"

I laugh a little at that. "Just about everybody."

She leans back again. "I passed Amara and Corinna on my way out here. While she has Amara's looks, it's obvious that she's inherited your expressions. I take it her training didn't go too well today."

I sigh quietly. Guess it couldn't hurt. "She knows she's different from everyone else here."

"Oh…" A pause. "Well… it had to happen eventually."

"I guess, but… I just wish I could explain it to her like it's not a bad thing. I definitely don't think it is." I rub at my eyes with my free hand. "But my way of putting it doesn't seem to stack up against a whole College of mages, and especially not against her own mother and uncle. She knows that Amara and Leon can do things that she can't, and what's worse, she's gotten it into her head that she ought to be able to."

"I hope Amara hasn't had a hand in that…" She sounds a bit ominous.

I shake my head. "No, not like that. Magic is just a part of their line, I guess. Comes as natural as breathing."

"The fabled Aestus magical inheritance," she says with a bit of a hum. "It's gained its own sort of infamy over the centuries, you know, and I don't just mean the family curse, though that was definitely a part of it. So many people were convinced that House Aestus got all its wealth and power by serving the daedra…" She trails off for a second, a finger on her chin in thought. Then she laughs. "In hindsight, the rumors were just a little bit true."

I grimace. "It's not really just from the daedra, is it?"

She shrugs. "The gods only know. Their House is old and steeped in equal amounts of rumor and tradition. Amara and Leon have done a lot to set themselves apart from their parents, but I don't think they can help what they are."

"She's told me before that it's like Corinna's birthright has been stolen from her," I say after a puff of smoke. "Maybe it's just because I'm not a mage myself, but I honestly don't see her condition as a bad thing. The undead will never touch her. Knowing it just makes me happy."

"No… I don't think it's that." She pauses to shift in her seat, grumbling about the added weight of her pregnancy. "Colette told me I'm carrying twins this morning. Can you believe that? Twins. No wonder I'm always exhausted."

I give her a small smile. "Congratulations."

She finally finds a more comfortable position before waving my response away. "That's one way of putting it. But ah… I don't think the Turn Undead spell is the problem here. I'll put it to you this way: imagine you're starving. Now imagine a delicious hunk of herb-roasted meat's dangling just in front of you, right out of your reach, and you get to stare at it and smell it while you starve to death. Does that make sense?"

"It does, but…" I scowl. "Corinna isn't starving."

"Lydia." Her hand brushes my arm again. "I've had dealings with House Aestus for a long time. Leon and I trained under the same master, and I often worked with Amara when we were in the Synod. I've met their parents several times, and I've seen what that curse did to the family as a whole. For the longest time, their magic was their one real source of pride. It was the only tangible bright spot. The curse might be gone, but like you said, certain feelings can stay with you afterward."

"That is… a very good way of saying it."

I startle and turn in the direction of the new voice. It's Leon, standing in the doorway with a small smile on his face.

He snuck up on me. I slow my breathing, try to swallow my surprise and budding disappointment. No one sneaks up on me anymore. I can't remember the last time I'd been so distracted by my thoughts to let that happen.

I think he knows this, too, but he's nice enough not to mention it.

Faralda gives a quiet, and slightly dramatic, sigh. "I was wondering when you'd find me. We're discussing Corinna, just in case you need context."

He approaches us and leans down to kiss his wife. "My sister was kind enough to guide my search. She also asks that you come inside for supper, as your tardiness is…" he clears his throat and mimics the higher tone of her voice: "setting a poor example for your impressionable child."

I chuckle as I stand up to leave. "That was actually pretty good."

"But ah… if I may have just one more moment?" He makes a gesture with his hand that asks me to stay.

I nod.

"I know we are an eccentric House, a strange one, but what I heard of your conversation was especially… eh…" he searches for the right word, "poignant to me. Meaningful. While the curse made so much chaos in our lives, our study of magic was often our only source of reprieve. It was the identity we clung to." He takes a deep breath through his nose and his eyes fall to his wife's growing belly. "But…"

I finish the thought for him: "But the curse is gone now, and Corinna and your children will never feel that kind of pressure."

He smiles again. "Yes, and… if Amara and I truly do want to build a new House, then I think we must learn to see that the Aestus birthright may take many new forms. She and I are like… stunted trees, able to grow strongly in only one direction. Our children will be free to take the shapes we never could."

… I wonder if that birthright also includes a knack for flowery language. I make to leave. "Thanks. Now I think I know what I'll say to her later." I wave as I walk away. "'Till next."

"Glad to help, and good luck," Faralda says after me.

I stroll back inside and toward where I know my little family is still waiting for me.

I'm not sure if I'll be able to change Corinna's mind completely, but this new angle is as good a one as any. It's a start.

5 Heartfire, 4E208

She uses her left hand to hold a pencil, like I do.

She's huddled over the table with her nose almost brushing the paper she's drawing on, and I think it's kind of funny how Amara looks almost exactly the same, only over a book. According to her—or at least what I've understood of it—she and Leon are working on some kind of big monograph meant to put that mage Calcelmo to shame.

There's a book on the table for me, too. It's about the Dwemer, of course, because I think it'd be nice if I could comprehend even a little of what Amara's rambling about half the time, but I just don't have the patience for reading that she has.

Corinna doesn't have it, either, despite all Amara's efforts. She can read and write well enough, I suppose, but she seems to prefer pictures over words. I can certainly relate.

My fingers are tapping against the arm of my chair, but I don't realize how loud it is until Amara starts glowering. I stop and make a kind of apologetic expression.

It's so quiet in here. Even if I didn't have a Wolf's hearing, I bet I'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the room. The books in here don't even make a rustling noise when you turn the pages, since they're enchanted not to. The whole of it just makes me itchy, honestly, though I fight not to fidget too much. I don't need any more dirty looks today.

"Lydia," comes the disapproving hiss from those pretty lips. Even my kid's giving me a flat stare. Oh—both my legs were bouncing. How was that even making any noise?

I cross my legs and fold my hands. I can't even smoke in here. As if the books would burn… they're probably enchanted against that, too. And, of course, that book Amara's digging through is one of those rare old restricted ones that cannot leave the walls of the Arcanaeum, under any circumstance.

I close my eyes and try to get calm. Sitting still has never been an easy task for me. I'm not like Amara: I can't sit in one spot for hours on end and just study and think. I can't just fall into thought like she does all the time. She can drift off mid-conversation, then come back like nothing's happened and there was never any pause. As for me, I have to admit that it's hard for me to separate my mind from my body.

I count all the beating hearts in the room. Twenty-seven. Two of them are beating a little fast for what you'd expect in a library. I sniff the air: paper, dust, ink, the stink of crotchety old scholars who barely remember what the sun looks like… a hint of sweat and excitement. I smirk, but keep it to myself. Two young students have found a dark corner, it would seem.

I glance up and meet eyes with Amara again, though now she's giving me a questioning look. I make a dismissive gesture, but I keep watching her. I listen to her heartbeat and quiet breathing, and that of our daughter.

The air shifts and then there's a gentle hand brushing my arm. Was my chair creaking too much? Amara stands, closes her book, and puts it on a shelf above her head. Then she gathers all her papers up and puts them in her weird little satchel, motions for Corinna to clean her own stuff up, and then turns to me.

Her expression is kind of hard to read. "Come."

I take Corinna's hand and trail after her, feeling for all the world like I've just poked a sleeping dragon with a stick. She holds the door to the Hall of the Elements open for us.

I turn and talk as soon as she shuts it. "I know you said I could go and hunt while you were busy. I just wanted to try and—"

She cuts me off with a quick kiss on my lips, and then one on my cheek. "You wanted to learn something of my work, I know. But perhaps it should wait for a better time, when you will be able to move about and make noise to your heart's content."

The sound of magical explosions echoes from the other side of the main training hall.

"I'll just uh… go then, I guess?" I shove my hands in my pockets. Amara pulls a little closer, all at once apologetic and comforting.

Her hand still in mine, Corinna gives me a tug. "Can we go watch the mages?"

I'm about to say no and tell her it's because we'll bother them—though if I'm being honest with myself, it's really because I don't want alienate her even more—when I can hear, and smell, a magical blast gone wrong. It's followed by a loud cry of pain.

I'm not sure what I could actually do to help in a situation like this, but I rush toward the sound anyway. I find it soon enough: a training class full of younger adolescents, and one of them's in a crumpled heap on the floor, clutching his arm. The air is filled with the smell of cooked flesh.

"Hroar," I say when I recognize him, and he looks up at me, his teeth gritted together. He's trying his best not to cry.

"Oh get up." Nirya, apparently his instructor, towers over him, arms crossed. "You're wasting all our time with your sniveling."

By Talos, she's everything I can't stand in a High Elf.

"He's hurt, in case you haven't noticed," I growl.

She waves it away, ever on her high bedamned High Elf horse. "I would hardly call that an injury. And, mind, this is a class for Destruction magic. Should he rather be coddled by Restoration, then I do believe he should find another instructor."

Light footsteps coming from behind, almost completely silent. A familiar heartbeat.

Looks like she's finally decided to follow me in here.

"I take it you have never acquired the art, then, Nirya." The room falls silent as Amara approaches Hroar, takes his arm, and heals the burn. "A pity to think that young minds will suffer the ignorance of such an… unrounded instructor. And I do admit I am dreadfully curious as to what you might consider a real injury." She stands and allows her magic to crackle over her hands. "Dreadfully curious."

The elf doesn't stand a chance, but at least she's smart enough to know it. "I would rather correct myself and agree to be less discriminate," she says through a scowl.

"Another pity."

Nirya turns and claps her hands twice. "That's enough for today. You are all dismissed." Then she brushes past us without another word, thoroughly pissed and determined to show it. I bite down a grin.

The class files out behind her at differing speeds, all of them glancing back over their shoulders at the Dragonborn. Amara still doesn't make much of an effort to be seen around here, so I'd hazard that some of them are only just now seeing her for the first time.

Only Hroar stays behind. He's already taller than Amara—though that's not much of an accomplishment, honestly—and he's lanky and skinny as any fifteen-year-old ought to be. His eyes are tilted downward, though he does give Corinna a little smile and wave, which she returns, if a bit shyly. "Thank you, Lady Aestus."

"Of course." Amara folds her hands in front of her and tries to look pleasant, but I know her too well to believe it. He reminds her of everything she's trying not to be. "Are you… having difficulty?"

His cheeks color. "I don't want to bother you with it, ma'am."

But she's determined to be something else, I think, even if it means looking her past directly in the eye. She's been doing it for years. "If you should wish it, I will help you."

My throat feels thick as I swallow because his smile is so genuinely grateful. There's so much he doesn't know, and never will. Neither Amara nor I are about to tell him the truth, since it would probably just make him resent his education here, and it doesn't seem like Svenja revealed it to him in her letter, all those years ago.

I don't remember him ever talking about it, after all.