Ilma
One night I will be the moon
hanging over you
One night I will be a star
follow where you are
hanging over you
One night I will be a star
follow where you are
There’s always a part of him that seeks approval, she believes - from everybody. Not just the more recent friends he’s made, but hers as well, which is perhaps, his deeper reason for coming to talk to her today. For coming forward when he noticed her here, instead of slinking into the shadows and pretending they were never here in the same place at the same time.
It is to her, the part of him that can be reasoned with, that can be brought to doubt what his other impulses tell him - call it is horse-nature, or his diplomatic side, or whatever one likes. But it’s not always, and lately has not been often, the part that won him over.
But he’s effective, this way. More effective than she had been as Caretaker (she’d never get accustomed to such a leadership title being called Queen, even if it was already in the past), because she had not - as her former leader would have - declared Loess the enemy when a child was stolen from amidst them. She’d wanted to ask why, first, and instead had been run over from behind. Had she been more rash, less forgiving, things would have been different now. She might have started a war, but only one that had been inevitable, and it’s focus would have laid east of Loess instead of to it’s west.
When he muses over her remark of being better together, she doesn’t answer his question, if they really would have been. To her, it is a rhetoric one - he would have had his much desired influence, no enemies to the east, and she would have found a way into Tephra; or at least she would have given it her maximum effort to talk Leliana down from starting a war. Even if she had failed, the outcome would have been different - less, or perhaps simply other casualties in the war, and possibly more respect for Loess from those in other lands - points for trying, instead of just rushing forwards with dragon fire.
To her, that would have been a more ideal situation. But the past is not to be changed, just as much as the future is not meant to be set. That’s why she cannot predict one way or another, but only see possibilities and notice which ones are more likely to occur. And it’s why she must change now, change her ideals and beliefs - no-one ever learned anything from being set in their ways. Castile and she were innate opposites, and perhaps they both would be better off letting the other in, and accepting that the truth somewhere was in the middle. That’s why she now knew how much more effective they could be together. Litotes, being a warrior king, would have a similar mindset like Castile. Too similar perhaps for both to see their own flaws in reasoning - and too stubborn, she knew, to listen to most of their diplomats.
”Litotes,” she repeats slowly, as if tasting the name feels foreign on her tongue. She hadn’t meant to talk to Castile about the man, but now the topic was unavoidable since he made up much of their past and their differences. ”Lie is a very ambitious man. He was my general before he was yours, even before I ever was his queen, and when he returned I believed he might be happy with that same title, with another land to rule, a position of influence in the council. But he challenged for it before I could give it to him, and wouldn’t believe me when I told him about my thoughts. Instead, he resented me - and he always will - for being friends with my predecessors, for trying the diplomatic approach first before warfare.” It’s not to say that Castile shouldn’t trust him; after all, he had made clear that his allegiance lay with the dragon instead of the white mare. But to her, his actions said a lot about his nature, which had lead her to her conclusion about his ambitious nature. ”I’m not predicting anything here, but if there were a higher title to be gained than King, more land to be claimed for himself and his family - I believe he’d go for it, no matter his former relations.”
It wasn’t anything different than Castile had done, in a way. She shrugs it off - if she can forgive Castile over time, then Litotes deserved a similar objective approach. And hadn’t she decided earlier not to get involved? Though, one could argue that unless she disappeared forever, she could never really not be involved. Think of this conversation alone - but she pushes the surfacing thoughts of diplomacy away, for now. It’s better that way.
The tobiano continues about things that happened - says that she wouldn’t approve. He says it in a way that suggests she cannot know what happened exactly, but unfortunately, the visions of the future (now past) couldn’t be stopped in such an eventful change in timelines - young lives being lost changed so many things about the future. So, she frowns at him. ”I certainly didn’t approve, not even before you did it, if you must know. Children died, Castile. You could have known that. It’s in the nature of warfare that casualties happen - and you know I would have done everything in my power to let Loess and Tephra conjoin, if that had prevented… this.” She gestures at him with a distant nod that’s covering all of him, meaning his current, slightly arrogant stance, but also the guilt he must carry with him now.
For him, she would have.
There is a small moment of defiance, like before - it seems he has a way of bringing them out. Bringing her out, perhaps. ”So what should I call you now? Emperor? Castile the Conquerer?” she snorts at him, shaking her head at a nearby tree, refusing to look at his pride for dominating any longer.
A moment passes, before she lets her anger fade and looks at him once more. Her tone more neutral, though she cannot hide how much she hurts from it - all of it, the past, the present, the possibility that this conversation ends on such a note that they’ll never see each other again. She wants to be careful, wants to part as friends, unlike last time.
”To rule is to make the hard decisions, and you do it splendidly. Better than I did, sure.” She takes a deep breath. ”But it seems to me that sometimes you need a voice against your instinct, to help reconsider before you decide. So I’m sorry - I’m so very sorry I couldn’t be there for you, to help you decide, to find another way with the Tephrans. I’m sorry that in the face of all events coming together, I didn’t have the strength to show you that there was another way, that you might have had a different choice as well, to support you making a choice, any choice. Perhaps you’d still chosen this way, but...” she shakes her head, knowing he knows the end of her sentence too. Then, at least, she would have tried, would have done something.
He still defies everything she believes that could have been, and she falls silent for a while. Perhaps he doesn’t need to - it’s all done and over with anyway. She shouldn’t look to the past so much either.
She nods at him when the topic of sides emerges once more, ready to give in, if just a little. ”Perhaps you’re right, that there are sides - but only when you make them. And definitely more than the two you mentioned, or else you’d have to obliterate me as well.” After all, where would that leave her? His sworn enemy? Because certainly, if she didn’t approve of all his decisions, then she wasn’t with him, the way he claimed.
But that idea makes her sadder than he can imagine, adding to her previous sadness of not being able to be his voice of reason. To see him carry the weight of the crown and the guilt of the war that he tells himself was necessary, as a way of coping with the events. She can’t blame him - she knows it was the Tephran queen who stirred the pot this time.
Tephra had been her ally - as close to the sanctuary as any other kingdom could possibly be - but Castile had been her friend. It was an impossible choice, and she had refused to make it. And it had ended with the loss of children’s lives.
How could she even begin to forgive herself for not even trying?
She stares past him into a distance he could not possibly follow her into, and lays her head upon his back when all of her thoughts tumble too much.
It takes a long time for Castile’s soft question to enter her mind, but when it does she answers without thinking. ”A family.” A family, with children of her own no doubt, but mostly for the lands to be brothers and sisters. Sure, one sibling might be more rowdy than another, and that wouldn’t have bothered her. Sometimes, one might even fight the other, like siblings often do, and one might even steal another’s toys but in the end, they would still love one another, and make up. ”A home.” A place to be safe. For all.
It is to her, the part of him that can be reasoned with, that can be brought to doubt what his other impulses tell him - call it is horse-nature, or his diplomatic side, or whatever one likes. But it’s not always, and lately has not been often, the part that won him over.
But he’s effective, this way. More effective than she had been as Caretaker (she’d never get accustomed to such a leadership title being called Queen, even if it was already in the past), because she had not - as her former leader would have - declared Loess the enemy when a child was stolen from amidst them. She’d wanted to ask why, first, and instead had been run over from behind. Had she been more rash, less forgiving, things would have been different now. She might have started a war, but only one that had been inevitable, and it’s focus would have laid east of Loess instead of to it’s west.
When he muses over her remark of being better together, she doesn’t answer his question, if they really would have been. To her, it is a rhetoric one - he would have had his much desired influence, no enemies to the east, and she would have found a way into Tephra; or at least she would have given it her maximum effort to talk Leliana down from starting a war. Even if she had failed, the outcome would have been different - less, or perhaps simply other casualties in the war, and possibly more respect for Loess from those in other lands - points for trying, instead of just rushing forwards with dragon fire.
To her, that would have been a more ideal situation. But the past is not to be changed, just as much as the future is not meant to be set. That’s why she cannot predict one way or another, but only see possibilities and notice which ones are more likely to occur. And it’s why she must change now, change her ideals and beliefs - no-one ever learned anything from being set in their ways. Castile and she were innate opposites, and perhaps they both would be better off letting the other in, and accepting that the truth somewhere was in the middle. That’s why she now knew how much more effective they could be together. Litotes, being a warrior king, would have a similar mindset like Castile. Too similar perhaps for both to see their own flaws in reasoning - and too stubborn, she knew, to listen to most of their diplomats.
”Litotes,” she repeats slowly, as if tasting the name feels foreign on her tongue. She hadn’t meant to talk to Castile about the man, but now the topic was unavoidable since he made up much of their past and their differences. ”Lie is a very ambitious man. He was my general before he was yours, even before I ever was his queen, and when he returned I believed he might be happy with that same title, with another land to rule, a position of influence in the council. But he challenged for it before I could give it to him, and wouldn’t believe me when I told him about my thoughts. Instead, he resented me - and he always will - for being friends with my predecessors, for trying the diplomatic approach first before warfare.” It’s not to say that Castile shouldn’t trust him; after all, he had made clear that his allegiance lay with the dragon instead of the white mare. But to her, his actions said a lot about his nature, which had lead her to her conclusion about his ambitious nature. ”I’m not predicting anything here, but if there were a higher title to be gained than King, more land to be claimed for himself and his family - I believe he’d go for it, no matter his former relations.”
It wasn’t anything different than Castile had done, in a way. She shrugs it off - if she can forgive Castile over time, then Litotes deserved a similar objective approach. And hadn’t she decided earlier not to get involved? Though, one could argue that unless she disappeared forever, she could never really not be involved. Think of this conversation alone - but she pushes the surfacing thoughts of diplomacy away, for now. It’s better that way.
The tobiano continues about things that happened - says that she wouldn’t approve. He says it in a way that suggests she cannot know what happened exactly, but unfortunately, the visions of the future (now past) couldn’t be stopped in such an eventful change in timelines - young lives being lost changed so many things about the future. So, she frowns at him. ”I certainly didn’t approve, not even before you did it, if you must know. Children died, Castile. You could have known that. It’s in the nature of warfare that casualties happen - and you know I would have done everything in my power to let Loess and Tephra conjoin, if that had prevented… this.” She gestures at him with a distant nod that’s covering all of him, meaning his current, slightly arrogant stance, but also the guilt he must carry with him now.
For him, she would have.
There is a small moment of defiance, like before - it seems he has a way of bringing them out. Bringing her out, perhaps. ”So what should I call you now? Emperor? Castile the Conquerer?” she snorts at him, shaking her head at a nearby tree, refusing to look at his pride for dominating any longer.
A moment passes, before she lets her anger fade and looks at him once more. Her tone more neutral, though she cannot hide how much she hurts from it - all of it, the past, the present, the possibility that this conversation ends on such a note that they’ll never see each other again. She wants to be careful, wants to part as friends, unlike last time.
”To rule is to make the hard decisions, and you do it splendidly. Better than I did, sure.” She takes a deep breath. ”But it seems to me that sometimes you need a voice against your instinct, to help reconsider before you decide. So I’m sorry - I’m so very sorry I couldn’t be there for you, to help you decide, to find another way with the Tephrans. I’m sorry that in the face of all events coming together, I didn’t have the strength to show you that there was another way, that you might have had a different choice as well, to support you making a choice, any choice. Perhaps you’d still chosen this way, but...” she shakes her head, knowing he knows the end of her sentence too. Then, at least, she would have tried, would have done something.
He still defies everything she believes that could have been, and she falls silent for a while. Perhaps he doesn’t need to - it’s all done and over with anyway. She shouldn’t look to the past so much either.
She nods at him when the topic of sides emerges once more, ready to give in, if just a little. ”Perhaps you’re right, that there are sides - but only when you make them. And definitely more than the two you mentioned, or else you’d have to obliterate me as well.” After all, where would that leave her? His sworn enemy? Because certainly, if she didn’t approve of all his decisions, then she wasn’t with him, the way he claimed.
But that idea makes her sadder than he can imagine, adding to her previous sadness of not being able to be his voice of reason. To see him carry the weight of the crown and the guilt of the war that he tells himself was necessary, as a way of coping with the events. She can’t blame him - she knows it was the Tephran queen who stirred the pot this time.
Tephra had been her ally - as close to the sanctuary as any other kingdom could possibly be - but Castile had been her friend. It was an impossible choice, and she had refused to make it. And it had ended with the loss of children’s lives.
How could she even begin to forgive herself for not even trying?
She stares past him into a distance he could not possibly follow her into, and lays her head upon his back when all of her thoughts tumble too much.
It takes a long time for Castile’s soft question to enter her mind, but when it does she answers without thinking. ”A family.” A family, with children of her own no doubt, but mostly for the lands to be brothers and sisters. Sure, one sibling might be more rowdy than another, and that wouldn’t have bothered her. Sometimes, one might even fight the other, like siblings often do, and one might even steal another’s toys but in the end, they would still love one another, and make up. ”A home.” A place to be safe. For all.
Hurry, the sun is waking
Darling, don't leave me waiting
Darling, don't leave me waiting
@[Castile this gets to be all over the place because of the huge topic they’re discussing, whoops
+removed tag upon grammar editing
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Robert Jordan, Wheel of Time