9:31 Dragon, Summer
Even the Maker's sun shining over the bright green gardens brought Samantha no joy. The curtains had been drawn wide, no longer allowed to shade her from the harsh, beautiful world, and all was quiet but for the soft scratches of Lord Garrity's quill into his books. Every so often, he would turn a page.
The study was her common place, and staring lifelessly out the window at yet another garden was the only hobby she had. The lack of rain turned most gardens to graveyards, but not the Garritys'. It looked like a painting, matte and false as the servants labored to keep the colors vibrant. Samantha found their movements fascinating as they lumbered to and fro, their backs hunched from the large planks of wood that sat heavily across their shoulders, pails hanging from the ends, sloshing with brown water. Men as skinny as sticks carried them while withered, worn women removed the pails and poured water here and there, methodically moving about from shrub to shrub. The servants would do this each morning until every last flower and tree in the Garrity's gardens had been sufficiently wetted and forced to live, to endure the elements of the world which worked against them in every way. Keeping alive what should be dead. Samantha wondered if that was true of her.
Lord Garrity tapped his quill against the inside of an ink bottle. They rarely spoke.
With all the survivors without homes, and with all the newly made orphans, the Chantry had grown crowded. Because she had offers for a home, Samantha had been kindly and gently kicked out. Lady Pentaghast had sent a special courier with more than a dozen packages – clothes, jewelry, portraits of the Vaels, and hidden inside the pocket of a long velvet coat, a handwritten note offering her a home – but Samantha felt a familial obligation to get her estate back, so she needed to stay in Starkhaven. Goran wanted her to stay at the palace, but she didn't know Goran that well and the palace was enormous, an empty tomb filled with the ghosts of her once-future family. Several other families had offered her their estates as well, and any one of them would have been a fine choice, but it was Lord Garrity she had chosen.
He had practically begged her to stay at his estate, explaining that he felt he owed it to Corbinian. He claimed that he had never formally accepted Corbinian's apology for that incident on the Garritys' estate grounds so long ago, and he could make amends by helping Samantha, whom he referred to as Corbinian's widow.
Widow. Like Lady Preston. Samantha felt tired.
Her first instinct was to turn him down because she didn't know his family as well as some others, but when he showed her the letter of apology he had received from Corbinian all those years ago, she had latched on and refused to let go. There were so many tiny mementos that were out of reach or gone, like her locket. All the letters Corbinian had written were stuck in a house that she couldn't access, but that letter, those words, they were real. It was like holding a piece of him in her hands; those words to someone else written in formality.
Lady Garrity had left for the year to stay with family in Orlais because she needs time to recover from the horrible ordeal. Samantha would have felt irritation if not for the weariness that consumed her.
Still, she received visitors and did her share of visiting other estates. Lady Luxley wanted to wax poetic on grief and death because of her daughter Helena, a loss that still haunted her. Vincent Tyler and his sister Gwendolyn were polite but not warm. In fact, Vincent's eyes were like steel curtains and Samantha imagined that he hated her because of Innley and Helena. Rumor had it that Helena hadn't been dating a Templar, but rather sneaking into the Circle to see Innley. That must have galled Vincent something awful, but Samantha could never tell. She had wanted to visit Arianna, but her friend had lost her father the night of the Circle Tower's destruction, and Arianna's mother had taken her to Antiva to finish the year in mourning with the only family they had left.
It was well known that Arianna and her father had been quite close, but Samantha never would have guessed at how much. When she was a little girl, Arianna's father would take her riding with him, and had a special saddle made so she could sit between his legs. When she was only twelve, they took a three month trip around the Free Marches, visiting every landmark that ever was, and to name a few: Urzara's tomb, the birthplace of the elven Grey Warden Garahel, the Twin Gates of Kirkwall, the blood-stained cobblestones of Ayesleigh, and Adain's home, preserved for tourists just outside of Markham. During her sixteenth year, Arianna's father had commissioned a large luxury yacht and sailed them as far south as Denerim and as far north as Rivain, stopping in Antiva to visit her birthplace where, upon docking, the young girl and her father had watched two men butcher each other over the price of fish.
Often, Arianna had said, her father would kick the servants from the kitchens and drag her into making some elaborate dish, just the two of them, throwing flour at each other and sneaking sweets from the cupboards. They spent parts of every day together, talking for hours as he never seemed to tire of hearing all of the things his daughter had to say. It was no wonder that Arianna's father had stayed in the house to fight off whatever came, hiding away his family and his prized daughter so they would not suffer a similar fate. There was still no word from him, not a whisper, not a corpse.
Samantha was in awe of Arianna's stories, and tried to imagine her own father like that, but the only image she could conjure was of a grumpy man who was more concerned with her appearance and knowledge rather than her preferences.
Loud clacking footsteps against the hardwood floors turned Samantha's attention to a small boy in the doorway. "Your Lordship," the boy said, his voice pitched high with youth. "A visitor."
"Show her in," Lord Garrity grumbled, not even looking up. He knew who the visitor was.
Royal Guard Specialist Keis was ever punctual.
She came to the estate regularly, inspecting Samantha, inspecting the grounds, inspecting Lord Garrity's guards, staying most mornings and all afternoons. Keis probed her for information about her health and well-being, followed her everywhere she went, evaluated each room before she entered, and likely reported her every word to Goran. When the visits got out to the nobles of Granite Circle, speculation began about a change in the tide of Goran's affections from Flora to Samantha. It made Samantha angry to hear these rumors, but she wasn't sure why.
"Lord Garrity." Keis stepped into the room and bowed her head in respect, but the lord of the estate just grumbled again. He had no say in the matter, and aside from the outward tolerance of Keis' presence, he never spoke a word about it.
"Lady Samantha." Keis bowed in her direction. The Royal Guard Specialist was formal, too. She never addressed Samantha in any other fashion and always gave short answers when asked questions. That day in the Chantry was the most she had ever heard Keis say.
"Hello, Keis." Samantha hadn't talked much all day and her voice came out quieter than she intended.
And thus began the battery of the same questions she had asked the day previous, and the day previous to that, and previous to that, and every day since Samantha had left the Chantry.
"You are well?"
"Yes."
"Any visitors?"
"No."
"Any post?"
"No."
In fact, Samantha had received no letters at all. Rumors were that no one was receiving any mail. Samantha had written a few letters, and it was agonizing that none had responded. At first, finding out that no one was receiving any letters was a relief, but it didn't take long for the frustration to settle in. She was intensely lonely. She missed her family. She missed her friends. She would have given anything to hear Flora's voice.
Benjamin was another story. He wasn't the most delicate speaker, especially when he brought the good news. Keis tensed at the ruckus coming up the stairs, but relaxed when they all heard the young Garrity laughing as though everything was once again right in the world. A servant boy opened the large doors of the study to announce him, but was cut off rudely.
"It's over!" Benjamin panted in the doorway, hunkered down with his hands on his knees.
Lord Garrity didn't look up. "What's over?"
Benjamin swallowed, standing back up with his hands on his sides. "The Blight! It's over!"
That made Lord Garrity look up. "What?"
"The Wardens! They live!"
Samantha shook her head. "You're not making any sense, Benjamin."
"The Wardens!" His chest heaved for breath. "The Blight!"
"Calm down," Lord Garrity boomed. "Speak plainly."
Benjamin swallowed hard. "The archdemon was killed a month ago! In Denerim. The Blight is over and both of those Fereldan Wardens live."
Samantha thought that surely this must be a joke. The two Grey Wardens that had disappeared into the ether were alive and they had defeated the archdemon in less than a year and they had both lived through it? She glanced at Keis, her eyes questioning, but the burly woman merely gave a nod of the head, indicating that this bit of news was true.
"And one of them is Ferelden's new king! His name is Alistair. Cailan's bastard brother." Benjamin grinned but he clearly saw that his audience was having a hard time believing the news. "I swear I am not making this up."
Samantha said the first thing that popped into her head. "King Cailan had a brother?"
"Really?" Benjamin scrunched his nose. "That's the only news you heard?"
Lord Garrity came to her rescue. "Infidelity is a sin, Benjamin. Maric was an honorable man, or so the stories go. It is not so strange that Lady Samantha would be confused by his impropriety."
"You can never tell what people are like by the stories, I guess," Benjamin said plainly, as if he knew the world better than everyone else.
That wasn't what she was confused about, but she didn't say anything. She turned back out to the gardens and wondered just how many people in the world had brothers who had died. How many people had to die in order to save a city? A country? A world born again from tragedy and strife, its people rallying behind its new leader. But the painted world was still grey underneath, and Samantha wondered if the canvas was ripped into a thousand pieces, would anyone even notice?
"A baby outside of his marriage," Lord Garrity bristled. "The very idea is an affront. How that bastard boy could possibly return and claim his heritage is a shame upon the country."
Benjamin shifted peevishly. "But that's not the point – the point is that Ferelden has a new king, the Blight is over and has been for almost a month, and so now we don't have to worry about the darkspawn crossing the Waking Sea and killing us all!"
Lord Garrity grunted. "Perhaps now those damn Fereldans will go back to their own country instead of adding to the poverty of the Free Marches."
"Better than the elves." Benjamin plopped down on a sofa.
Lord Garrity grumbled something in approval.
Samantha gave out a small sigh in annoyance. It was fairly impressive how they managed to turn an entire country's success story into a silver lining of their lives. How were they processing her then? A vessel for their overflowing generosity? As the days passed, she had begun to wonder why she was still staying here.
"Regardless," Lord Garrity waved the entire notion away with a large hand, his other scratching his whiskers. "I suppose that's fine news. Will there be celebrations?"
"I haven't heard anything from Go—uh..." Benjamin shot a look at Keis. "From the prince."
It was an adjustment for everyone to make: Goran Vael was the new Prince of Starkhaven. Rumors were that it was even new to him. Seemingly artless in nearly all his endeavors, he was handling this new responsibility with absenteeism. When speaking of him, everyone seemed to mind their manners around Samantha, whether it was because she was once engaged to his brother or because of Keis.
Lord Garrity grumbled something about luck and the Maker's plan before he announced convincingly, "Don't you worry, Samantha. Your petition will not get delayed. I will see to it myself."
Samantha gave a small smile. "Thank you, Lord Garrity."
Her family estate included holdings and bank accounts that would provide her with the life of luxury that she had grown up with, but truthfully, Samantha wasn't sure she could handle getting her actual home back. How could she be in the same house that Innley had tortured and killed her parents? How could she sleep in the same bed that she and Corbinian had shared so many times? How could she set one foot into Innley's old room, the one with the view across all of Starkhaven to the husk of the Circle Tower, which had been burned down to a blackened wiry mess? It now looked like a dead tree.
Benjamin propped his feet up on the table in front of him, "Samantha, you should come with me to the stables. We could go for a celebratory ride."
"A fine idea," Lord Garrity added.
"I don't ride."
"What? I've seen you—"
"I don't ride, Benjamin," Samantha mumbled, growing weary in his energetic presence. "I never have."
"Oh." He seemed to think about that. "I suppose that was Flora… well, we could go for a walk through Granite Circle."
She thought about her walks with Corbinian after service and shook her head.
"We could… tour the gardens of the estate?"
Samantha shook her head again, trying not to cry. This was terrible, of course. Immersed in her grief, she couldn't even find the will to politely refuse. She could almost feel Keis sighing.
Benjamin lifted his hands up slightly in exasperation, looking to his father for support.
"You haven't left the house in a week, dear. Not since service." Lord Garrity was being gentle.
Everyone seemed to be overly preoccupied with Samantha's emotional state. They all insisted that she move on, whatever that meant. How was she supposed to do that? What did that even mean? And why would she want to leave all those she had loved in the world? Just because they had left her prematurely didn't seem like a good enough reason. Like she was somehow betraying them by willing her heart not to ache for their presence.
Her father with his glasses and books. Her mother with her letter-writing and insipid conversation. Her brother with his innocent charm before he turned into a monster. Her Beenie with his cheeky grin and immovable body. And Vael-blue eyes. And his lute. And his sword. And climbing through her window. And their private jokes about Lord Kendall, whose death only heightened her sense of loss. Even their shared jokes were dying.
Before she even realized it, she was weeping. Broken down and put back together in a bed with a nursemaid and a cloth dripping with warm water. Floating down a salted river, its bank lined with blackened trees and a sky grey with ash and Andraste's stone stare into nothing. She woke up only to turn over and drift away again.
"My lady." A soft-spoken maid touched her shoulder. "My lady, please wake."
Samantha cracked an eyelid to spy a young elven girl who spoke with a perfect Starkhaven accent. Clearly, she had lived here her whole life.
"My lady, you have a visitor. She insists on seeing you. My lord asked me to rouse you."
Samantha turned over onto her back, bringing her hands to her eyes which stung hot with old tears. With the maid's help, she lifted herself to a sitting position, and noted Keis leaning against the far wall, her eyes focused out of the large window. She was always looking out of windows.
"I don't want a visitor," Samantha whined.
"She insists, my lady," the elf said, holding a hand mirror.
Samantha lifted the mirror to her eyes and it didn't soften her. Her golden brown skin was tinted unevenly with shades of blotchy pink, and the dark circles under her eyes masked the youthful girl below. Her hair was a disaster, knotted and flying off her head like a witch in a storybook. She also had a set of lines down the side of her left cheek where the pillowcases had indented her skin. She must have slept very still for a while.
"Maker," Samantha whispered in lament, and the shell of a girl in the mirror mocked her with fatigue.
The elf girl moved closer with a hairbrush and some powder, items produced from somewhere out of Samantha's view. "Here, let me."
She brushed Samantha's hair and applied the powder to Samantha's cheeks and eyes. The elf smoothed out her clothes and fetched a glass of hot milk with a tablespoon of honey for her throat, all the while silent and determined, her enormous emerald eyes darting over Samantha like a bird's twitching. Like she was seeing the world but not really understanding it.
"There," she sat back, lifting the mirror again, and Samantha had to admit that this elf was worth every silver piece the Garritys were paying her.
"Who is she?" Samantha asked the elf about her visitor.
But it was Keis who answered. "Some girl from the Chantry."
That was rather odd as no one from the Chantry made house visits, not even to the nobles. Perhaps Samantha had left something there and this was their courier, but she couldn't think of a thing she could have left behind.
Samantha asked Keis, "What does she want?"
"She has letters for you." Keis didn't move from the window.
Letters! Samantha's heart sang. "You talked to her?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?" Samantha watched the elf girl leave the room, likely fetching the visitor.
"That she had letters for you," was Keis' reply.
Turning back to the doorway, Samantha rolled her eyes in annoyance. Keis didn't talk much but when she did, her tone was biting and her words were curt.
There was another knock as someone lighty tapped on the outside of the door, and a very young girl entered the room. She was small, pretty, and her voice had a distinct Marcher accent. She curtsied politely at the door. "My lady."
"Come in." Samantha patted the bed at her side and the pretty girl moved into the room.
She walked like she was skating on ice, gracefully moving across the plush rug, lifting the skirt of her robe up as she sat down on the bed, smiling. "I am a chanter. My name is Taletha."
Samantha forced herself to smile back, trying to hide her anxiety about the letters. "A pleasure to meet you. I hear you have letters for me?"
"Yes, my lady. But before I give them to you, I must tell you why I have come personally." The girl folded her hands on top of her lap. "I am here at the behest of the Knight Commander of Starkhaven. The Templars are hunting mages and the sisters and brothers of the Chantry are quite busy with the influx of orphans and those in need since the night of the Mage Rebellion."
So that's what they were calling it now. Samantha groaned inwardly. At first it was just The Destruction of the Circle, and then it became The Tragedy at the Starkhaven Circle, which morphed into The Rebellion at the Starkhaven Circle, and the last Samantha had heard, they were calling it The Second Mage Rebellion of Starkhaven. The first, of course, being Adain. Always back to him. Were they going to settle on a name or not? The only reason it mattered was because everyone was talking about it, and Starkhaven's finest could not simply refer to an event without a name. An event without a name was not an event.
"The Knight Commander has tasked the chanters with delivering the delayed post. You see—" Taletha pulled a small stack of letters from inside the sleeve of her robe. They were folded neatly on top of each other and tied together with string. "—it is his sworn duty to hunt down the missing apostates, those that escaped the Circle and the Templars' chase. He is using every means necessary to find the murderers of the Vael family and your family, and so many other families. He believes that many still reside in Starkhaven, hiding in the alienage, Ilian's Square, or perhaps even Fyruss' Reach. These are all places where nobles like you never set foot, but they would be ideal hiding places for apostates."
Ilian's Square... Samantha could have laughed out loud. This girl was clearly not from Starkhaven or else she would know that Ilian's Square was where the merchant's set up shop, so named for the prince of Starkhaven that had legalized it. Sometimes, Samantha wondered if prince's made laws just so they could attach their names to buildings. Nevertheless, Ilian's Square would be a fool's errand, because it was one of four squares that was connected by Olran's Park. The others were Penellian's Square, the cultural district, Mythan's Square, where the most expensive eateries were, and Vanguard's Square, which was devoted to Starkhaven's military. The formal training yards, the barracks, and the Court of Justice, they were all within walking distance of Ilian's Square - why would mages hide there?
Fyruss' Reach was much more likely. It was the part of town that was furthest away from the royal palace, and was so named for Starkhaven's foolishly prideful king, back when they had a king. Fyruss had attempted to unite the Free Marches and form his own empire in 2:15 Glory. His advance to Antiva thirty years later had ended badly, betrayed by Starkhaven's then-allies, Tevinter, who promptly conquered the city and held it until the First Exalted March in 2:80 Glory, where Andraste marched to her freedom… and her death. History remembered Fyruss as too proud and too stupid to realize the limitations of power and the draw of freedom. Andraste taught everyone that lesson, and Fyruss' Reach became a lesson for every Havener since.
The alienage was on the other side of the Four Squares, and Samantha didn't know what it looked like because she had never been. Taletha was right; she had never had a reason to go there.
Taletha went on with her practiced speech. "Information about the missing apostates is relayed in many ways. There are conspirators and sympathizers – the Knight Commander knows this is true. These people often communicate through special couriers and by the post. As such, he has detained all letters, inspecting each of them for evidence of where the missing mages have gone."
"The Knight Commander reads our letters?" Samantha spoke naively. It wasn't necessarily a question, but a statement of surprise. A man, a Templar, read the nobles' letters. Lord Garrity must be furious. Lady Preston must be beside herself.
"It is for everyone's safety." Taletha smiled sweetly. "And once the letters are cleared, they are delivered."
Samantha glanced over at Keis who was still looking out of the window.
"Have you found any mages?" Samantha had a momentary fear for her brother, not that Innley was stupid enough to stay around Starkhaven – if he still lived. The last thing she truly wanted was the Knight Commander of Starkhaven breathing down her neck, asking her questions about her abomination brother. Aside from his unsettling gaze upon her at every moment she saw him, she heard ridiculous rumors about the Knight Commander that couldn't possibly be true: that he could cleanse magic in the alienage from Granite Circle, could kill a mage with a thought, and drank pure lyrium for breakfast.
"There are many leads," Taletha continued. "Many are sought for questioning, mostly those labeled conspirators and sympathizers. The Knight Commander and First Enchanter of Starkhaven and the Knight Commander of Kirkwall are working together in such pursuits."
Murdering maleficarum, dead brothers, lost loves, and now the conspirators and the Knight Commander. This was madness.
"I have heard of your loss." Taletha's soothing Marcher voice sang of sympathy as she held out the letters importantly. "If you should need anything, anything at all, come and find me at the Chantry."
Samantha accepted the letters into her hands. "Thank you."
Taletha stood up, curtsied again with a smile before she left the room.
Inspecting the letters, Samantha recognized the handwriting immediately: two letters from Flora and one from Sebastian! Her eyes immediately brimmed with tears and she thought she might rip into them right then, but a quick glance up revealed a very intrigued Keis no longer looking out of the window, but instead watching Samantha.
"Would you mind waiting in the hallway?" Samantha was tired of crying in front of people, mostly especially Keis.
"Why?" Keis was still leaning against the window.
"Surely, the concept of privacy isn't lost on you, Keis."
In a rare display of emotion, the corner of the Royal Guard Specialist's mouth twitched up, and secretly Samantha congratulated herself for affecting her. Keis was the most private person she had ever known; she knew next to nothing about the warrior, other than she took her duty very seriously and was never late.
"You'll tell me if there's anything suspicious in those?"
This was a minor victory, and Samantha promised she would.
With a sigh, the tall woman lifted herself from the wall, the joints of her mail undertunic softly sighing as she moved across the room, closing the door behind her as she disappeared into the hallway. But Samantha imagined that was as far as Keis went.
Samantha unrolled the dry parchment of Flora's first letter. It was dated early summer. Two months after the Circle's destruction.
Dearest friend Sammie,
Sebastian was just here with the glorious news that you are alive! We all thought you dead, because the Chantry's list of casualties had your name on it. The Maker must have heard our prayers, because the latest Survivor's Index had your name moved to the column of those who had survived! I surely hope that you weren't raised by forbidden magic, Sammie!
Needless to say, we are all in stunned shock over the death of the Vaels. The entire family… It's unfathomable. It was only the news of your miraculous survival that has lifted me from my despair, for surely if you live, then perhaps there are others whose names were placed on the wrong list! After seeing your name moved, we are holding out hope that other names we know appear on the next list. I will pray to the Maker each and every night that one of those names is Beenie's. I cannot imagine what you are going through – I wish I could be there.
The moment Sebastian left this morning, I asked my mother to travel back to Starkhaven, but she won't let me go. We've heard that Starkhaven has closed its gates to travelers coming in or going out in an effort to stop any mages that may be rooted in the city somewhere, but I bet I could get in. I am familiar with sneaking in and out as Kirkwall's gates have been closed to the Fereldan refugees, and only those who have been able to buy their way in are here. Surprisingly, there are quite a few refugees that have made it in. I guess City Guard pay is too low to turn down silvers.
Samantha, it goes without saying that as soon as you are able to travel, you are welcome to come and stay with us in Kirkwall. I know I made it sound terrible before, and trust me when I say that it's not Starkhaven, but a change of scenery might be what you need. You are probably surrounded by so many memories… maybe you should get away from them for a time.
Please write to me.
Love, Flora
The second letter from Flora was dated late summer:
Dearest Sammie,
I haven't heard from you. I hope my letters are getting through.
We got another list today. At first, we held out hope for more names to be moved to the Survivors column, but it seems as though every week, the names move in the other direction. It's difficult to be so far away from our home when all these horrible things are happening. The list this week included Lord Marziano. Have you seen Arianna? I wrote to her, but she hasn't written me back, either.
I offered to put you up here before, but truthfully, I am considering running away. Things are getting weird with my family. Maybe it's the Blight or what happened to the Vaels or the Qunari presence in Kirkwall, but they seem unhinged and I can barely deal with them anymore.
First, I caught Ruxton coming out of a brothel the other day! He didn't seem to know what to do or say, but I figured we all have to grow up sometime, right? I think maybe he's lonely but I'm not going to be the one to put him back in his shell. Second, Brett has become obsessed with the family heirlooms. He brings them out of storage and displays them around the house, as if to show the world that we are rich and wealthy and important; it's vulgar! My mother spends all of her time in the basement trying to perfect the expansion of our house, and none of us are allowed down there. My father is barely at home anymore. As for me, I spend most days trying to run a household that seems intent on falling apart. All this craziness has been giving me headaches, sometimes so bad I wake up without realizing that I fell asleep. But don't worry about me, Sammie. I just need a holiday. If you do come, I think you and I will find an inn.
It would be nicer if I saw more of Sebastian, but he has been in seclusion for months. He doesn't even come out for service. The Grand Cleric says he is grieving and he needs time, but Sebastian was never one to grieve. I remember the look in his eyes when he came to our house that day to tell us you lived… I think he's angry. I think he's planning something, but I can't exactly do anything about it when he locks himself inside that temple.
I'll keep writing.
Love, Flora
Samantha's heart pounded for Flora, her best friend, miles and miles away with a family that was falling apart too slowly, unlike Samantha's life, which had been ripped open and bled dry all in a single night. To visit Kirkwall seemed at once frightening and dangerous, with so many apostates out there, and so many demons… and Innley.
Innley of Starkhaven...
The letter from Sebastian was actually still sealed. This was confusing, because Flora's letter's seals had been broken. When Samantha opened it up, she saw it was dated in midsummer.
Samantha,
I pray to the Maker that this letter finds you. I knew something was amiss because it isn't like you not to respond to a letter. This may come as a surprise, but this is my fourth letter to you and up until a few days ago, I didn't understand why I hadn't heard a response.
It took some investigation, but I have learned that all letters are going through the Office of the Knight Commander. The letters are opened and examined for content about escaped mages which under these types of circumstances is not unusual, but it seems like all of my letters were confiscated, and I have said nothing about mages. I had to send this letter with a courier that the Knight Commander cannot touch, a chanter named Taletha. To send me a letter in return, hand them directly to her.
My questions about my family's death have gone unanswered and I apologize sincerely for the indelicate nature of these inquiries, but I need your help. How did Goran survive that night? Why didn't the mages come to my family's aid? The official causes of death were listed as "magic-related" for some of the Vaels while others are listed as "by the sword". This doesn't make sense. Why would these renegade apostates go to all the trouble of escaping the Circle to break into the Royal Palace, risking death and recapture, to murder my family? With swords?
Finally, I know how much you and Corbinian loved each other, for no gift from the Maker could be greater, and I know that right now nothing I can say in this letter will take away your suffering. If I can offer anything it is to take comfort in the words of Maker. In His light, we are never alone.
Maker keep you safe,
Sebastian
Sebastian was a smart man; he had always been. Whether he was sweet-talking some girl out of her dress or drunkenly showing off, he had always known just what to say and how to say it. Maybe it was a Vael thing, this gift with words that Goran had somehow failed to inherit, because Sebastian had asked all the same questions that many in Starkhaven had been asking. Most especially about the new prince.
Goran claimed that he had hidden in a closet the entire night. This story was confirmed by the guards who had found him. They had swept through the palace looking for survivors and cataloguing the dead, eventually coming to understand that he was missing. It took hours to find him, curled up on the floor of a closet in an unused bedroom in his family's wing. They said he was buried under a pile of furs and completely hidden until he moved out from under them, wide-eyed and terrified.
The merchant class of Starkhaven had taken to calling him the Cowardly Prince. It was a nickname that many of the nobles never used out of deference to the prince's seat, but they didn't argue with it either.
There was a single knock on the door and Keis cracked it open. "Well?"
"Well what?" Samantha grew more intolerant with every knock. "They're letters! From my friends."
"Flora and Sebastian," she stated, but it was a question.
"Yes," Samantha hissed quietly, trying to find her manners in the fatigue of her grief.
Keis seemed satisfied with that answer. "May I come back in? Or do you require privacy to cry?"
Maker, she was rude! Samantha rolled her eyes. "No, you can come in."
Keis closed the door behind her before she resumed her post, leaning against the window, her eyes fixed at some point outside, her armor sighing into silence. The sun caught the metal and reflected tiny half-moons onto the ceiling that twitched every so often. It was the only way that Samantha knew Keis still breathed.
She watched them for a time, letting them hypnotize her into sleep as she clutched the letters to her chest, comforted not by her guardian's company nor by the Maker's Light that reflected off her guardian's armor, but instead comforted by the words of her friends, littered on parchment, and sent into the bitter world to see what fruit they would bear.