My lovely readers! My nose has been itching like crazy due to allergies. It's terrible. It's also getting hotter and hotter by the day, and I know I've become a broken record on how much I've complained about my hatred for it. Stroke: lol, the canon timeline is pretty screwed by now, you're right. The Potter/Weasley children won't be a big part of the sequel so it shouldn't be too much of a big deal.. I don't really have a reason for them in the story aside from occasional mentions. The Pensieve hasn't been moved because a part of Draco is really enjoying what's being revealed even while he's also often disturbed by it, and it was there in his "common area" (which is just his preferred living area of the Manor of choice) because he was casually indulging in it with his friends, and he's obviously a stubborn asshole in that he wants to be set in his decisions and not seem spooked enough to actually admit Astoria was right in warning him off it in the first place. Originally he had brought the Pensieve into his home just to prove he could. Oh, and because it's convenient as you pointed out, lol. Ultimately, Astoria and Draco haven't been married that long, and seeing as there hasn't been a lot of time for the two of them to sit down and be romantic with each other, realistically Astoria wouldn't be quite in love with Draco yet. Draco actually is a lot closer as he has been getting to know her through Legilimency and the Pensieve while Astoria has been dealing with her own issues. She will grow to love him, don't worry. I'm sorry if this part of the story seems drawn out (everyone stuck at the Manor talking), and writing it is difficult for that reason which is why I'm lagging on it. There are a lot of things to be done in the situation that they are currently in, and so many different issues, emotions, reactions to go through, and it's a bit mind scrambling to write so bear with me as I sort of drag through it. Group scenes are more difficult to write as it is, and there's a lot of drama at the moment. Group talking scenes are almost over, I promise! I'm only so capable in my writing, and my ideas often live above my writing skills hahaha. As always, thank you so much for reading and sticking through all of the various happenings in this story. I love all of you!
I don't own anything from Harry Potter.
Freya couldn't say anything, shouldn't say anything.
If her own knowledge and common sense regarding her husband from being married to him for the length of time that she had been hadn't made that clear enough the simmering fury radiating off of him as he entered their bedroom made it crystal.
She had just lost her son, and she wasn't allowed to say anything. She had just cradled her broken little girl in her arms, and she wasn't allowed to say anything.
She wasn't angry, she was beyond anger. She had moved past anger long ago. She wasn't sad either, sad was such a weak word. A woman could lose one of her favorite earrings and claim sadness over it. Was she heartbroken? No, she had already been heartbroken. A heart could only break so many times. She wasn't numb either. She desperately wished she were numb. They often said that when someone met a point of suffering they would become numb, unfeeling. They also often said that time healed.
They were fucking liars.
Nothing had healed, nothing had gotten better. Things had only gotten worse, and when things weren't getting worse her past still stuck with her. She couldn't escape it, she couldn't distract herself from it. It was there, and all she could do was burn in it, and burn in silence. No, perhaps they weren't liars, but perhaps she had just never been a part of the "they". She never would be.
"Ah, look at my lovely shrew. Perfectly tamed." Her husband's voice was a quiet, emotionless musing. So perfectly calm in such a time.
Fuck him.
The luxury it would be to use the words out loud, to tell him straight to his face. Not that it would make a difference. He knew how she felt, he could feel it every day. It was why he wanted her in the first place, why he kept the scars on his arms from when she had tried to kill herself right before fucking him in that tower, electing her fate. He liked her to remember what she had done, what she had chosen. A pathetic little girl with no strength or decency, she sickened herself, and it was why she didn't regret it.
She deserved him.
She deserved her fate, she deserved the constant pit of excruciating self loathing she lived with every day. But her not her children, her children didn't deserve any of this. Certainly not her little girl who only wanted her brother to stay with her, the brother that raised her better than Freya ever could. Edric had to go, he had been becoming too similar to the men of their world before she noticed the change in him when he had found the girl, and had he had lost his simple love he would have dropped as hard as she had, and she couldn't live to have her son grow up to be a man like those of which she despised. He deserved to have his simple love, a simple life, a real life that wasn't cloaked in smoke and mirrors. All of her children did, but not everyone always got what they deserved.
Which was why a piece of her, just the smallest piece, couldn't hate her husband. Not truly. Just as Edric had been becoming so cold to the world so had her husband at some point, a baby wasn't born with a frozen soul. She didn't know if it had been gradually or if there had been a certain moment, but she knew her husband did not come into the world the man he was. They were all disgusting and damaged products of the system they served, some of them better than others, and some of them worse than others. Aldrich loved Edric, she knew that much, and she could feel it as well. She could feel his own heartbreak at the loss of their son, his feeling of betrayal. If only he had not been shaped enough by their world to handle this better, and if only he weren't so stubborn in his word. He shouldn't have threatened the girl's life, Edric would have stayed if he hadn't. But Aldrich would never go back on his word, never try to go back and negotiate. She would never see her son again, and neither would he.
She would never see her daughter again either.
Two children gone from her in an instance, her children who she lived for though they'd be better off with her dead. Two children who made her so proud of their traits, both of them ill fitting in this society in one aspect or another. Astoria had so much life in her, so much fire. Freya always knew it had been a fire that would be quenched eventually, but she had hoped it wouldn't be so soon. She had hoped she would be able to keep her brat for just a while longer.
She said nothing in response to her husband's words that were intended to infuriate her, intended to add to her boiling insides, just as she was expected to say nothing. She only laid there, waiting for him to join him in their bed as she faced away from his side, just as she was expected to wait.
"A true obedient wife doesn't have to ask how high. She already knows."
She would be expected to carry on, carry on and act as if her son never existed, as if she didn't birth him from her own body, as if she didn't witness his first steps or is first display of magic, as if he wasn't the only man in the world who truly loved and respected her unconditionally despite her many flaws. She would be expected to carry on, smile and look fucking gorgeous above every other nasty, fake pure-blood woman in her pathetic little community as if her daughter hadn't just been under the cruciatus curse at the wand of her own father simply for crying, no, simply because of her own mother didn't do as she was expected to for once in her marriage. She would be expected to carry on, just as she had always carried on. Always.
She was only dully aware of stoically turning over to face him after he had laid down beside her, only dully aware of her hand skimming over his stomach and up to rest on his chest, her self loathing pulsating as she made herself feel sick with her need to touch him, her need of a warm body for comfort, her need to mourn with the father of the child she had just lost, just as he needed to mourn but wouldn't allow himself to, instead letting out his emotions in other ways. She felt his shocked stare as she acted so boldly, touching him without being forced as a way of torment so shortly after he'd been so, so incredibly cruel, so heartless. But he wasn't heartless. She could feel his heartbeat underneath her palm, underneath his somehow warm skin. Human just like everyone else. A terrible human, but still only a human, enslaved just as she was. She needed to hold onto him, if she didn't she feared she would slip back down into the never-ending fall of emptiness, losing herself once more until all she wanted was to hit the ground hard enough to stop everything. She needed to hold onto him because she was hurting, and he was her husband, the man meant to be her anchor. She needed to hold onto him because she needed to show him that he didn't hurt her enough for her to back down from him. She needed to hold onto him because she could feel him hurting too, and for some reason a small piece of her gave a shit. The small piece that if she could she would take a knife and physically carve it out if she knew where it was.
A fresh dose of scorching self-loathing rolled through her when she flinched under his hand that moved behind her to rest against her back, hot tears spilling out of her eyes as she fought the sob that threatened to escape her now raw throat as her sorrow and mourning overcame her under her husband's touch. She dug her nails piercingly into his chest as she struggled with herself, wanting to hurt him in just the smallest way she could get away with, a light whimper escaping her lips. Their magic touched now in such nearness, during such strong emotion, and she felt his next emotion strike her like a sharp kick to the stomach. Regret.
Fuck him.
Edric could hardly hear what was going with the rest of the occupants of the room, unable to get his thoughts in order as he drowned in his screaming emotions, both elated and sorrowful at his mother's momentary reaction to him, seeing her after so many years. He didn't know whether he should feel betrayed or thankful for her after she had forced him under the impression that he was dead to her, as he should be dead to her according to their rules. After she had refused to meet his eyes when he had said her name with such desperation in his hesitation, spoken to him in the coldest tone to leave. If she had stopped and asked him to stay he knew he would have, he would have done what his mother asked. She knew that, and she intentionally let him go, intentionally allowed their family to fall into wreckage.
Astoria had paid the price for that choice.
His mother had claimed that his father was not punishing Astoria but instead punishing her, and Edric wasn't sure which idea was more cruel and inhuman. He didn't know how a man he had grown up looking up to and respecting as much as he did was capable of such heartless intentions. He had never thought Aldrich to be a good man or morally sound, but he had always preached respect and protection of one's family.
He didn't understand, and he doubted he would ever understand. His mother and her bitterness made much more sense to him now, and it hurt him to see the contrast between her then and the small glimpse of her he had seen in the memory Adrian had provided him with. As much as it had filled the hollow space in his heart to be acknowledged and claimed by his mother he knew the risk of it, especially since she had been so open about it. In front of Nott of all people? He wasn't sure what Naylor had heard, or how trustworthy he was seeing as he was a Slytherin himself and apparently had ties to his father through Astoria. He studied his mother as she spoke, poised and composed only a collection of minutes away from her pained and panicked reaction to his presence. He wondered what she was thinking at the moment, if she was allowing herself to think anything. He had be able to detect the strong reactions coming from his wife during her scene with his little sister, so he assumed his father must have felt something when his mother had seen him, and if she allowed herself to keep her raw reaction he was sure to take notice if he hadn't already.
He could only desperately hope his father wouldn't show up at the Manor then.
Edric's focus to the actual conversation of the room was better reclaimed when Astoria fled the room sick, his heart sinking at his mother's announcement of her being pregnant. She was too young, far too young, not that their world had much regard for a woman's age. Mentally she was too young, and Malfoy was in no place to help her parent. He wouldn't be around to help either, and he would likely never meet either of his sisters' children. She had accepted him for a small while the previous night, but it was clear she had since gotten a hold of herself and judging by the way she had made a show of addressing his wife there had been a clear message on where she stood.
His eyes fell back on his mother who hadn't taken another look at him since she had put her best mask on and Edric pushed aside his selfish thoughts of being alone with her. Astoria was married, offered protection by another man and name, but his mother had to live with his father, and his mother was bonded to his father. He could not expect anything from her, not even the emotional reaction she had surprisingly given him.
"So, what is your job exactly, Mr. Naylor?" His mother asked the man, his sister's friend he supposed, her voice still holding the confident, almost sultry lilt to it that he remembered so vividly from when he was a child.
"I come in after the fact of it all. I come to the scene and check if dark magic was used, what kind if it was, poisons as well. Check if accidents really were accidents," Naylor replied.
"I see. Things are becoming clearer of why my husband finds you useful," she mused. "Tell me, darling. Are you Astoria's friend or my husband's?"
"Ah. I'm sensing a trick question at work," he answered slowly, tilting his head to the side.
"She's asking if you intend on sharing what you witnessed and heard when you came into the room with Aldrich," Joseph Nott said shortly, his cold eyes trained on the young man.
"What did I witness and hear?" Naylor asked, his face covering itself with confusion. "Not sure what you mean."
"So you're my friend," his mother nearly purred, sitting back with a pleased expression. "Perfect."
His mother was treading dangerous waters with how outspoken she was being about her intentions. Had she always been this way? He supposed he couldn't remember seeing her out in public much without his father nearby. He had always kept her on a short leash.
"Draco!" Edric held back a grimace at Granger yelling across the Manor in such a way. His wife called him in a similar fashion, and it was not one of her habits that he favored. "I need you to come open this book!"
Naylor rolled his eyes and got up, exiting the way Granger had. It was likely his blood was good enough to open the enchanted books himself.
His mother stood, pushing down on Daphne's shoulder to indicate that she needed to stay put before she slowly made her way past Edric, not looking at him as she only slightly motioned with one slender finger for him to follow.
"Freya," Joseph growled warningly, shifting in his seat as if he was going to step in and stop her.
She ignored him and Edric stood, glancing down at his wife who smiled sadly at him as she remained seated, following his mother compliantly as she walked down the long halls of the dark Manor until she decided on a room at random. Edric silently stepped into the room with her, jumping when she slammed the door behind him.
"Sorry. Forgot that you were your father's son," she told him, her sarcastic voice cutting through his ears, stripping him of the years he had aged until he was just a child again, looking up to his mother with both fear and the desire to please.
"Mother-"
She held up a hand, staring through him. "A bit of a warning would have been lovely."
"I didn't know you would be here. I didn't know I would be here."
"You shouldn't be here," she grit out, still not meeting his eyes as he so desperately wanted her to. "You should have never even thought of coming around here." His mother's face crumbled slightly and she closed her eyes. "Why are you here?" She asked softly, her voice losing all of its edge. "Why?"
"I should have never left," he said darkly, swallowing hard. "Everything was fine until I decided to indulge myself."
"Yes, you should have," she insisted through her teeth. "Nothing was fine. Nothing is ever fine, Edric. You, you were fine. You were fine with her. Without us."
Edric stared at her, frozen at her words as he studied her pained and tensed features, noticing the only small indications of her aging which were more prominent now in her struggling grief. "But you all are my family," he said weakly, deflating in confusion. "And what happened to Astoria.."
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes together tightly. "Wasn't your fault. We're Astoria's parents. Not you. You're the child. He's the parent. He did that to her. And I.. Did nothing." He watched her visibly shake and he took a step forward in alarm, worried she may fall. "I did nothing. Just as I've always done nothing." She looked up to meet his eyes, finally, her green eyes even more striking as the whites of her eyes were tinged red and contrasted them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I failed as a mother to all three of you. I'm sorry that you've had to live with guilt that should have never been placed on you. I'm sorry that I made you feel as if I didn't love you. I'm so ashamed that the three of you have to call me your mother, and I don't want or expect you to forgive me because I will never forgive myself." She inhaled a shuddering breath, shaking her head lightly again as she searched his eyes, her tears only brimming her eyes rather than falling. "And I tried, I really tried to do right by all of you by not coddling any of you, by letting you go. I tried, but obviously not hard enough and I'm sorry for that. I'm also sorry that my apologies don't do shit to fix anything. I'm-"
"Mum.." He managed, his voice small. "Please stop.. I'm not ashamed of you. None of us are ashamed of you."
"You should be," she spat, her chest rising and falling dramatically with her breaths. "You really should be, and you should be ashamed of yourself for coming back here! I let you go! Why couldn't you have let me do something right? Why couldn't you have let me save you even just a little bit?"
"Ophelia was working with the Ministry. They brought her here. Astoria.. Attacked her. I felt something was wrong and I apparated here. Malfoy stopped her, and that's when the Pensieve showed us.. What happened. Astoria didn't see it. She ran out." He felt as if he had gotten caught breaking the rules and had to explain his mother in summary of everything that happened and why he shouldn't be in trouble.
But he was in trouble, and he was in a lot of it.
"You could have at least left us for someone mildly intelligent," she replied, her voice no longer as emotional.
"She is when she wants to be," he murmured. He didn't know if he could stand more insults being thrown at his wife, but what was he meant to say to his own mother about it? "Astoria is.."
"Much different than you left her, yes. Spirits die in this world."
"Different," he confirmed solemnly. "And also the same."
"Draco saved the girl? Not you?" She asked, judgment in her tone, filling with shame over his treatment of Ophelia this time.
He couldn't win.
"What was I meant to do? Raise my wand to Astoria? After everything? How am I meant to ever raise my wand to any of you? Bravery is not one of my standing qualities."
"That's because you're my son," she replied gravely.
Edric ignored the thrill of contentment at her claiming him. He couldn't treat this as a family reunion, not with the circumstances they were dealt. "Your bonds."
"Your father has been traveling. I believe he's been with his family out of country. I am fairly familiar with our bonds and how they work, but yes it is likely he has noticed my unusual range of emotions."
"He will kill her," he said slowly, dread falling over him. He would kill him as well, not that that was what worried him. If he cost Ophelia her life after all that had become of his family there would be no reason for him to exist anymore.
"No," she said firmly. "No." She walked forward, bracing her hands on either sides of his face to look into his eyes. "No," she repeated again. "She will be fine, and you will be fine. I will not let it happen. I won't."
"It's looked at by our community that they steal us, that they soil the pure, but I've stolen her," he said quietly. "She would have been better off."
His mother smiled sadly, watching with an odd, knowing look. "My sweet boy. I wish your heart was colder so you would be spared this pain," she told him, stroking his cheek with her thumb once before tilting her chin up and dropping her hands. "But ridiculous. You're my son, and to any woman you're worth a pot of gold to a beggar. Don't degrade yourself in front of me."
Edric caught her before she stepped away completely, dragging her back to hug her tightly to him, inhaling her familiar scent of incense and essential oils greedily while he had the chance.
"A lot of hugs today," she quipped, her voice a bit muffled from being crushed to him. "More than I prefer." But still she slipped her arms around him, her hands pressed against his back to hold him to her, both of them savoring the moment.
"I love you, Edric. Never doubt that again."
Draco led his wife reluctantly back into the sitting room after they had taken their time resting away from the mess in silence, finding Granger there again with a pile of books and some food messily piled on the coffee table, his coffee table.
"Where's Novalie?" Granger asked, squinted around. "She should be awake by now, surely."
"She was in the shower when I left her," Theodore replied, smirking at Pucey who scoffed at him.
"So we are sleeping with them now?" Naylor asked, raising an eyebrow at Granger. "That's protocol?"
"Novalie is only assisting us," Granger muttered though still looking annoyed. "Which is why we brought in a second opinion, as obviously one is biased."
"Biased," Joseph sneered. "And what do you call a mudblood judging those who don't accept her type? Do you expect her to be fair?"
"I'm as fair as I can possibly manage," Edric's wife spoke up, looking at Joseph with a firm expression. "I can only speak from an outside perspective."
"Well, I don't know if I would say it's an outside perspective any longer, seeing as you are a Greengrass," Granger prattled, shifting through the books. "It would have been nice to know that."
The air in the room shifted dramatically and nearly everyone seemed to stiffen, defensive over such an old and respected name being handed to a mudblood.
"There are three Greengrass family members in this room," Joseph said coldly. "Freya, Daphne, and Astoria. Must you refuse to pay us any respect?"
Granger glanced at Naylor irritably who shrugged and shook his head. "I'm not getting into this, and as far as I'm concerned I am verbally agreeing with Nott. I'm going with the policy of 'don't bite the hand that feeds you.' There's a reason he wasn't included in the family's records."
"Mr. Nott, have you paid me any respect? Has Draco? I'm not trying to disrespect anyone, I can assure you that, but I will not refuse to refer to a woman by her legitimate name simply due to your ancient, immoral rules. No one stopped referring to Sirius Black as-"
"Are you comparing us to the Black family?" Astoria asked, blinking in offense before laughing lightly. "We are nothing like that scandal pot of a family. Please do not offend us, Hermione."
Draco raised a slow eyebrow as there was a collection of murmurs and mocking sounds in the room in response to his wife's words against his mother's family.
"Darling child. As much as I agree, and as much as I would kill to have Narcissa here to hear you, I'm wondering why you would say such things right in front of your husband. You must wait until he's gone to insult his family, obviously," Freya said smoothly, amusement dancing in her voice.
Astoria avoided his eyes and he narrowed them at her, irritated she had no decency to even apologize after such an inappropriate display of outspokenness. Perhaps he had given her too much freedom. She still had a place after all. She may need to relearn it.
"And do you insult your husband when he's not around, Mrs. Greengrass?" Granger asked her, swaying the topic from the ill fitting couple in the room wisely.
"Well, of course not, darling. Why would I do that?"
"I'm not sure. I'm just going off of what you just advised Astoria. He's not here.."
"He is powerful in multiple ways, and he respects me. What is there to complain about?" Freya asked.
"I don't know. What is there to complain about?" Granger pressed.
"Plenty," Freya replied, smiling.
"More negative than positive?"
Freya hummed in response, motioning for Astoria to pour her a cup of tea.
"Then why do you tolerate it?"
"Miss Granger, all of the rest of pure-blood politics aside, he is my wizard. I am tied to him for the rest of my existence."
Granger seemed to accept this answer, or rather didn't want to argue, and leaned over to hand him another book to open. "Braden can't open all of them."
"Some are sealed only for my family," he replied, flipping the book open for her. "You may want to take care. I'm sure some of them can still sense a muggle-born is reading them, and you may get hurt. Or.. Don't take care. It's nothing to me."
"Kind of you to warn me, Draco. I appreciate it," she mumbled, halfway snatching the book back. "Where's Blaise? He's barely been around."
"He does not get on well with my wife, as you've seen."
Freya clicked her tongue, shaking her head at Astoria as she handed her her tea who walked back to Draco as she still avoided his eyes. "You won't be teenagers forever, Astoria. You aren't in school anymore. You ought to make better impressions on the men in our community. That is your purpose, is it not?"
"Surely that is not her only purpose, Mrs. Greengrass," Granger remarked, though her tone sounded slightly weak as if she had given up putting much energy in truly trying to combat the ideas of their world.
"No. She has more purposes. Such as providing an heir for her husband, looking pretty for the cameras, and assisting Draco in choosing a suitable bride for their son. Oh, and pleasing her husband of course."
"And I suppose when she doesn't do those things to her husband's satisfaction then he will choke her?" Granger asked snippily, throwing him a scathing glance.
The bitch just wouldn't let it go.
"Depends on the husband, love," Freya answered, looking indifferent.
"And why would any parent allow such a husband?" She asked, stopping to watch Freya with borderline accusing eyes.
Freya watched her calmly, shamelessly. "It's all shit, Miss Granger. It's just about choosing how you'd prefer your shit served because all of them will stuff the same amount down your throat either way. All of them want to see you choke on it, and all of them expect you to swallow."
Granger grimaced, closing her eyes as if to clear the image before she let out an irritated breath and went back to her reading, her eyes skimming the pages impatiently. Draco heard his wife's small intake of breath as if she was about to scold her mother for her word choice, not to mention the fact she was openly belittling their world that was meant to be superior.
"Based on the pictures of you and Narcissa I saw in her photo album of her Hogwarts years I would say you two were friends. Why do you want her to know what Astoria said about her family?"
"Going through my family's personal photos, Granger?" Draco asked irritably, his eyes raking down the witch in annoyance. The nerve of her.
"Amy was looking at them actually." Granger waved her hand dismissively. "She was admiring your confidence, Mrs. Greengrass."
"Which photo?" Freya asked, squinting slightly. "I never kept those photos that the school sent us after graduation."
Granger summoned the book, his book, skimming the pages until she found the one she was looking for, standing to hand it to Freya. "Your skirt seems a bit short there.." She pointed out, her tone both amused and scolding towards the older witch. "Your hair is the same."
"Ah. Yes. When Joseph was actually attractive."
Joseph rolled his head to the side to throw a dull look in Freya's direction but offered no witty response.
"Yes. I remember. This was the day before I had to go to the Hospital Wing to be weighed, as the school was keeping me on watch to make sure I was gaining weight, or at the very least not losing more of it. Otherwise, they were threatening to send me from school until I got better. Could you imagine how my father would have reacted if that had happened? No, couldn't have that, but of course I couldn't possibly just eat as a healthy person, could I? The next day I gorged myself on as much water as I could manage in time to be weighed and afterwards I puked it all up. I probably would have been able to keep it down had I not seen how it made my stomach push out more than usual in the mirror. It disgusted me." Freya handed the book back to Granger. "Be sure to tell Amy as much. Confidence is almost always an illusion, dear. Some just are better at acting than others. As for Narcissa being my friend? Narcissa is an opportunist. She was my friend because I had something to offer, just as why most of us are friends. Then of course you have to be an opportunist to obtain a name like Malfoy. It would entertain me for her to see her daughter-in-law who she is so fond of disrespect her family."
"That's.." Granger started before inhaling deeply. "Well, I hope you are better now."
"I'm not anorexic anymore," Freya answered simply. "No need to dwell on it, I was only making a point."
"So are you an opportunist, Astoria?" Granger breathed, attempting to turn the conversation, glancing over at his wife. "Since you are now a Malfoy."
Astoria blinked, her small, pink mouth twitching into a slightly offended frown. "I'm the opportunity," she said in an almost curious voice, her head tilting to the side as she answered the Auror.
His humble wife.
Freya laughed, cutting through Daphne's scoff. "Weren't you telling me how you were worried for Astoria's confidence? What did you call her earlier? A nice girl? Nice girls do not survive this world."
"I don't understand this world," Granger sighed. "I've tried. All of this effort for.. Money and status. Money means nothing."
"Wrong," Freya corrected, sipping her tea. "Money means power. It is power that means nothing."
Granger frowned watched Freya for a while as she thought through her words. Draco could feel his wife itching next to him, tortured by her mother's display. This was not at all how she was meant to act, but Draco couldn't help but enjoy it. It was refreshing to hear one of them say such things out loud.
"Why try to understand? You seem like you care far too much about people who look down on you. You're a sweet girl, put your emotions into those who are worth it." Freya went on, setting her tea back down.
"I suppose I just find it dissatisfying to think you all are as hollow and cold as you try to put out. I like to try and understand, try to see the insides of it all."
"The insides of what? Emptiness? That's all you will find, love." Freya sighed almost theatrically. "That's all anyone ever finds."
Astoria looked at him sharply, forgetting the fact that she had been trying to avoid his gaze, her eyes frustrated as if she were asking him to assist her in shutting her mother up. He didn't particularly want to shut her up, not that he would attempt to either way. The woman wasn't his wife, it wasn't his name wasn't being dragged through the mud in her remarks. He supposed this was why he didn't remember a woman like her growing up seeing as her husband had always been around to keep her mouth closed. She was obviously where Astoria had gotten her habit of inappropriate outbursts of out of line comments.
"Who wins then? This.. Game of power you all have in your own little world. People like your husband?"
Not one family ever won. The competition simply went on.
"Nobody wins. Especially not my husband."