two moons walk into a ruined bar and...

Eularia tilted her head back to meet his gaze, dark eyes flitting over his features. He was easy to read, after so many years under his teachings. You were kind, where it counted. She reminded him, as if he might forget the kindness he had shown to a waif on the streets, starved and attempting to survive with parents who cared more about themselves than the many children they'd produced.

As he reached to touch the children in the safety bubble, her gaze followed his hand, Perhaps it's better they do not. I'm not a good person, papa. She studied the children, pursing her lips at the title. She knew he was proud; he'd watched her grow beyond what the Crows had wanted her to be, had encouraged that growth once he realized the potential.

He, too, was at fault for the way she mourned. For if she had only killed the princeling before she loved him, she'd not be in this position. Perhaps they'll grow to hate me, as my first two daughters do. As my eldest sons do, for even if Enzino refuses to acknowledge his feelings, sometimes I catch a look in his eye. That is enough. She averted her gaze from the babbling children, who were eagerly playing with their grandfathers' fingers and toppling one another over to do so.

He asked a question, and she looked away from him as well. I am not a good person. She repeated, refusing to answer. Magnus facilitated her inability to let go of her husband; going so far as to protect the still-beating heart. The Fade is gone now, father. Spirits go nowhere, now. As a mage, she'd been able to follow spirits into the Fade, dream with them, see them... but these pockets were few and far between now. Spirits simply ceased, and what else should she think when the Veil was ripped asunder and the world she had known was gone?

She sighed, straightening her shoulders. I cremated most of* him. If that's what you're worried about. She mumbles 'most of', hoping it might go unnoticed.