AN: If you're interested in the content of Kalthor's letter, it was posted on my tumblr ("ashadelmg. tumblr .com" without spaces or quotes). Follow me if it pleases you, you'll get quick peeks into my writing and inspirations. It's NSFW at some points, though. Just a warning. The blog, not the letter.

It was done.

The ceremony had gone without a hitch, but Triadae hadn't expected there to be a fuss. Kalthor's friends had been the same as hers, and she could pick the ones that had come to pay their last respects out with ease. More had come, faces she could not recognize except that she remembered seeing them briefly among the members of the Caravan, among those who had helped rescue her. There were so many, and all had listened to the stories that had been told, while most had shared their own experiences with the man. She had been one of those who did not, and while there was not a single person who faulted her for it, she hated herself. The words would not come; words that should have been easy were stuck in her throat, and each time she tried to voice them, they only made her choke more.

They had all been so careful, there in the garden of the home she had once owned. It was not a place she had thought she would be returning so soon, but there was hardly another place she could think of to bury him. Even so, he hadn't been buried. That was one request she remembered from years before, when the undead had risen and pulled down the very walls of their lives. He had asked her once, just once, to do anything to him but bury him if he died before her. So she had burned his body, alone. The pyre built with her own hands, his body laid on it with her own strength, and the torch taken to it with her own grief. When it all had been done, she had stood alone and wept the tears she had tried so hard to hold back.

Brinella had found her then, and silently helped her gather the ashes into an urn. There were no words, that quiet day. She had simply appeared in that oddly human form, but she had not left until she was certain that Tria had been given all the help she could handle. The two were bonded in silence, both of them now having supported the other in their grief and loss, with the warrior understanding that there was no difference between them. The druid had lost her love as permanently as she had lost her own. Lost her love, lost her friend, lost her support.

It was Brinella who had come silently with the others, making the small gathering into something else. The entertainers had brought music and food, and a small mount of joy for those who had not known of them. There was no surprise that those who bore the blue banners of the Alliance had appeared quietly in the woods of Eversong, no complaints made when food and drink was shared. It tore her apart, knowing that Kalthor would have approved. Knowing that he would have danced with the cook, and laughed with the two who had nearly killed themselves trying to keep him alive. Alive for her.

Apologies were hollow, condolences even more so. Death was normal for them, and they all accepted her silence as a form of the grief that they could not completely share. It hurt some to have her pull away, she knew. Tiroth had spent most of the proceedings looking as though he was caught between grabbing her to him and holding her there until she poured out her heart, and being a silent statue that simply watched her with narrowed eyes. His distance made the ache worse, as if losing her friend had forced her eyes to all that she had lost. It was a path that she had sworn not to play with, but it was so hard not to toy with the ideas and thoughts.

The light drizzle that had begun had turned her eyes to the grave of her friend, the place where they had decided to bury the ashes that were left of him. She had expected to simply dig a hole and then drop the urn in, but Brinella had changed that in her own way. She had taken the urn from the warrior, and gently dumped the ashes into the hole just large enough for the metal. Triadae had watched in silence as the druid knelt and placed a single small item amidst the ash, and then swept the dirt back into the hole. She had expected her to stand, but instead the druid had hovered her hands over the mound and her eyes closed. A strain was present, a moment of anxiety that passed as a tiny shoot twirled upwards from the ground.

That sprig of green among the dark soil riveted her attention and brought gasps from the crowd. Though every moment seemed to bring Brinella pain, each moment showed growth that might have taken years. The sprout became a sapling, and then exploded into a size that towered even over the home that the grave had been placed beside. The bark was smooth, the grain of the wood clear, and Triadae swore that she could see her dearest friend in that very grain; reading a book at the foot of it, grinning at them from the center, and in the branches, he crouched with a hand held downwards towards them. Yet when she blinked, the images faded away.

"Heartswood." Brinella's voice was strained and weary, but her smile was serene. "It's a difficult tree to find, but I did. Rumor, or perhaps legend, says that during a horrible war, two lovers fell together. Where they died, the heartswood tree grew. I found it, and two seeds... Kal deserved the best, and I could only give what he inspired me to chase." Her eyes went to the spread of leaves, and closed. "Can almost hear him laughing, if you close your eyes. This will be a good place, for him and for her." She looked to a bench set aside from the others, where the solitary figure of Leybright sat and stared off towards the ocean.

"It's not my place to tell you what to do, and I can't say that I know how she feels about any of this. She's a conflicted soul, half here and half... elsewhere." The druid gestured towards a passerby, and they handed over the two drinks that they carried, which she offered over to the warrior. "I can't even say that I think Kal was wise in asking you to do something that I know tears at your heart. I can probably guess that he only had the best for everyone in his mind, and he..." She drifted off, struggled to find the right words as her eyes sought out another lone figure, standing apart from the others and looking awkward even then. Her smile softened.

"Even if you choke on your words, even if it feels like they are bile coming out from deep in your stomach, you must say them, Tria. For him, but also for you. Don't let things brew. Take it from this old wolf," she smiled and shook her head, "you don't want to lose something, because you're too busy hating what was left behind. It's cliché, I know... but I never would have found William if I had kept Cor trapped in my heart. You helped me then, and I'm going to need you to help me again, soon." Her eyes turned to the tree, a frown sweeping away the smile. "I'm going to need you, but I need you as stable as you can possibly be. Do this, Tria. Complete the circle." With that, the druid slipped away, going to the lone man and twining her fingers in his own.

Triadae's heart twisted to see the love and adoration the two shared, and her eyes went to the cups in her hand before they trailed out to the priestess who sat alone. She took a breath, not liking the way her stomach churned, but she knew that every word the druid had said carried a ring of truth to it. More, the druid had hinted that she would need help; that burned brighter than anything else in her mind.

Leybright said nothing when she approached, merely took the offered drink and cradled it in her lap. There was the silence, awkward and full, with neither of them knowing how to break it until Triadae did, with her voice harsher than she had meant. "You'll be off active duty. Now. Today. The house is yours, but I..." Words failed. They always failed right at that crucial moment, when she needed them most. "I can't do everything he asked. I can give you the means to stay safe. Tiroth said you'd always rent a room at the inn when you came into town, so we... he and I thought it was better that you have a home. Kal fixed the windows. More often than he should have, but he fixed them. I cleared out one of the bedrooms, and there's... it just needs a little paint."

"I never loved him." The words spilled quietly and quickly, Leybright's gaze finally pulled up to the other woman. There was nothing in her face, but her eyes radiated a sadness that Tria could understand all too well. "The colder side of me, that which you called Leybright... she tried. She wanted to love him, because he was kind to her. He was patient, and good. He deserved to have a love that was undying and passionate, but she could only offer her body – no, don't look at me like that. I could not love him, because I could never bring myself to love someone who would not love me.

He would never love me, not like he loved you. Even when I told him of the child, he was not truly happy. He wanted those words from you, but he accepted them from me. Protected me, yes. He protected me from anything that might have taken this child from me, and I could have begun to love him for it if he'd only show me what he constantly showed you. Leybright may not have been able to understand, but I do." Her eyes went back to the sea. "You can give me the protection and safety that he asked you to, but you cannot raise the child. I know, because I see you with Miralai, and know it is the same, if only the cast of characters is different. I will not ask it of you, Gildedsun."

There was silence again, and she broke it once more. "I killed my husband, many years ago. I dabbled in the arcane, then. Anyone who knew me knew that I wasn't a violent person, but I came home one day to my husband in our bed with another woman. I was seven months pregnant, and I just..." she moved her fingers in a gesture much like a flower blooming, "snapped. I froze them to the bed, I warded the house with a silence charm, and then I burned them alive. The amount of magic I used terminated the pregnancy. I lost... everything. My love, my family, my mind.

"They severed that bond, actually drained me of all of that knowledge. I was helpless and feeble, and I was left to dream about what I had done. Over and over, I could hear them scream even through the barrier I had made. I could hear him begging me to stop... but he had never begged when he burned. He just told her that they would be alright. That he loved her. Through to the end, that's what he said.

"It was after one of your torture sessions that I told him. I told him it all, just so he would know. I told him that I didn't mind the rumors, because they were so much less painful to accept than the truth. Let everyone believe I left my legs open for anyone, let them believe I had no heart. He had wept for you, and by the time I stopped, he was weeping for me, and still... I felt nothing." Her hand moved to rest on her stomach, pressing gently on the curve. "When I told him that his child grew within me, there was no question, no doubt. He told me that he would protect me, and he would be a proper father. But what is a family when you feel nothing for the other? That man..." She laughed, and tears streaked down her cheeks. "We both hurt him so bad, didn't we? Us foolish, foolish women."

A range of emotions went through her, and Tria was shocked to find that anger or hate was not among them. She sat beside the woman, finally finding the words that had been knotted inside of her. "We did. I loved him, more than I ever let on. Looking back on it, there's so much I should have done. So many things that I should have done with him. Done for him. But I can't take care of his kid. That's just like Miralai, just another kick to someone who is already down. I'll do what I can, though. You need anything, just ask. I can't promise a night away from the kid, and I can't promise I'll be here, but I'll do what I can for you in his place.

"I know he loved me. I saw it, just like I'm so used to seeing that last light in the eyes of those who answer to me during combat. That last flicker of honesty before the fall. Those last words that can't be said, only seen. I wish that fear had not made it so hard for me to say what I know he wanted me to say. What was I to do? Tell him that I had no interest one day, and then take it all back in the next few weeks? Pride kept me from doing so. Pride," she shook her head, "pride always seems to trip me up."

Leybright reached out a hand, touching her fingertips to the back of Tria's own. "He knew. We both know he did. There's so much that we can say or do, so much that we can blame ourselves for, but that's not what he wanted. He never wanted much, but I think that, at the very end, he had exactly what he wanted. The knowledge that what he did was good and right, and he would do everything in his power to do it again, and again. He was a stubborn man. That's all we need to remember."

Tria nodded, and looked down at her cup before taking a long sip. "Don't name it after him."

"And put up with what would be an utterly egotistical child? No, I don't think I will." Leybright smirked, and they fell into silence while the sun set, and the tree that had been formed over his grave gathered the lights of dozens of fireflies. The party continued into the long hours of the night, and the two talked open and freely, with Tria recounting stories that made the other woman laugh. She was at peace, and yet...

She'll change the world as we have, for better or for worse.