Goodness, gracious

The night was still warm. Not hot, no, but pleasant nonetheless. In Norwyn the temperatures would still approach freezing point in the night, even in summer. But here, she could open a window and enjoy cool air on her skin. So she sat curled up on the windowsill, a glass of wine in her hands, because they didn't brew much ale around these parts. She hated the taste of it. Brann would call it a bitch drink. But she still liked the warmth of alcohol in her stomach, and the little bit of peace of mind it gave her.

The door krept open and her uncle entered the room. She felt a bit caught of guard, but she still liked his company. He was the only one who spoke with reason in this house. She gave him a small smile and dropped down from the windowsill, her bare feet on the cool stone floor. Everything was so different around here already. How different would it be outside of Ravaryn? And how would she fare, when the little things in Ishgard already bothered her. ‘‘Wine?’’ she offered her uncle, as she filled up her cup again. ‘‘I don't know how you do it, uncle, with your children,’’ she then continued. ‘‘Because my siblngs certain act like they are my children.’’

Rán smiled slightly when he accepted her offer for wine, and she grabbed another glass and poured it royally. She offered it to her uncle and she brought her own glass against her lips again and listened to him speak. She had asked for his advice, but she didn't like it anyway. Rán wasn't much of a talker, and she made it quite clear when her siblings were annoying her. Especially Ve. Nerys was actually quite okay. But somehow she expected her to act stupid any second now. She was just preparing for it, so maybe it would not surprise her when it happened.

‘‘I don't think cutting Ve slack would be helping him,’’ she grumbled pessimistically. Because he would definitely end up dying. He had been sickly all his live. How was he supposed to take care of himself? But she hadn't stopped to think that they'd might be grieving. Because she ignored that feeling as much as she could. She had to, because if she didn't, bad things would happen. She had to rule a city now. She had to run around Ravaryn, talking to some high lords and making sure Ve didn't do something stupid on the way. ‘‘How in the world wouldn't they realize they are being difficult?’’ she started to argue. But then he just looked at her and hit the nail on the head. Because he tried to open up a door she already closed. And she hung on the other side of that door, keeping him from creeping in her mind. She was fine.

‘‘Don't you worry about me,’’ she said with a small smile. Why would he? She was the only one in this family actually trying to make them look stronger. But there was a thing or two Erek might be able to help her with. About her father's death. And well.. it was Erek's brother after all. She drank deeply from her glass again, and then leaned back against the window. She looked her uncle up and down slowly. Because if he tried to pry that door open, what more did he know? Did he know her father was a mage? He must have, right? But did that mean that he also knew about her? Could he sense it? If that was something you could sense. She did not know if her siblings had it in them, for example. So she guessed not, but maybe she just didn't know. And then the question that roamed her mind the most. What if Erek knew magic too? But there was just no subtle way to ask that. Rán was just desperate to learn more. She wanted to be able to control it. Because if she could, no one would be able to stop her. Ever. So she eyed her ucle up again. ‘‘Are you okay?’’

They certainly wouldn't ever agree on this. Maybe that softhearted thinking would worked with Oscar and Benji, but not Ve. Nerys could stand her ground for a while but Ve? He bruised like an apple, broke apart like a twig. He was weak and sickly and would never be able to be on his own. ‘‘Freedom would get him killed.’’ It was sad that it wasn't a lie. ‘‘I'm only taking care of him, of them both, but they are just too thick-headed to notice.’’ It was kindoff sad that the three of them were never close. They have had a good example. Erek and her father were close, worked well together, and formed a strong front in Ravaryn, established their family in Norwyn and then in Sleetspire. ‘‘They are nothing like us.’’ And who did he meant with us. Her and Erek, of her and her father?

Rán was in no mood to cry. She clenched her jaws together when she looked at him, then drank deeply from her glass again. She almost got shivers down her spine when the bitter tasting alcohol went down to her stomach. She had mourned enough already, but her uncle pressed another finger on the wound. She thought it had closed, but it still ached fiercly. ‘‘I know,’’ she mumbled eventually. ‘‘But he was sick. It was a matter of time,’’ she replied practically. She had been preparing for this her whole life, but when it had happened, she had felt so lost. Especially with the new-found magic at her fingertips. ‘‘It's just.. he was not done teaching me something yet. I bet he would have never been done but- well.’’ She shrugged and emptied her glass.

Rán rolled her eyes and turned away with and annoyed huff. ‘‘I'm afraid we will never agree on this subject, uncle.’’ Ve was nothing more than a liability. He was reckless, weak, impulsive and did not ever think about the consequences. He constantly managed to get himself into situations he needed saving from. Without her father or her, what would have truly become of him? ‘‘You are most welcome to try knock some sense into my brother. I'm afraid I have lost my patience.’’ She leaned back against the windowsill, turning the glass in her hands.

Mostly she needed something to fiddle with to keep her hands from trembling. She didn't want to discuss her father's death. She had been bedridden for days after what she had done, crying her eyes dry. She had been at the bottom of a well, covered in five foot mud, it had felt like. She had to crawl out of that pit and she had done it all done by herself. She did not need reminding of that time. And when Erek just pressed the place where it hurt, carefully picking words like it was torture, she had to roughly wipe her cheeks to force herself to not cry, looking up at the ceiling. She just shrugged again, breathing irregularly. She somehow felt like a little child again, mourning the loss of her first pony. How silly she had been.

She was more interested at what her uncle had to say about what she hinted at. But she had been to caught up in her feelings to study his expressions like she should have been. So she just turned, her eyes slightly watery. She furrowed her brows and slowly took a deep breath. ‘‘Magic,’’ she whispered.

Rán waved a gesture at him that he was welcome to try. It was somehow weird that the two of them were equals now, both ruling over different cities in Ravaryn. But still she would listen to his every word like a child. Not that she would ever shy away from her own opinions, she was too stubborn for that. But... he could still make her feel small. He was the only one she could talk about her father with. Ve had hated the man and well, Nerys was just a child. It was just the two of them.

And when she had whispered the word, it made the air grow colder. Suddenly it was all about secrecy, as her uncle moved past her to close the windows and create this little bubble in which the world could not know what they were capable of. The dirtiest way of magic their had ever existed, as it had been branded by the kingdoms. But to her, her magic was her ancestry. It was part of their history and it was now tainted. Dark eyes gazed up to her uncle as he spoke again. ‘‘So you did know,’’ Rán concluded. He did know what her father was capable of and therefore what potential what was owed to be hers had been wasted for all those years. It was the only thing she could never forgive her father. ‘‘He began teaching me when he got ill,’’ she said with a raw voice. ‘‘I don't now why. You tell me.’’

How had she never known? Now she was almost thirty and- she shook her head. Imagine what she could have been. But then again, it was all forbidden. They should not exist and should stop being what they were. But in the land where the nights were longest, they should be allowed to defend themselves what hid in the dark. So when her uncle explained that her grandfather had taught them, it was like.. why? Why did the legacy had to end with her. Erek explained that her father never wanted her to know, so why he changed his mind..

‘‘Probably because the sickness made him mad,’’ she bit back bitterly. Rán was really upset, because she otherwise would never utter a bad word about her father. But she was upset about this decision. ‘‘He got scared, or felt time running out, started to regret it. Or finally he grew some sense,’’ she continued merciless. She acted like a child that did not get what she wanted. But it were thoughts that had been eating her up from the inside for so long now, so to finally talk about it was.. cleansing.

Rán shrugged when he asked what she knew. ‘‘Some.. small things. Mostly using properties of animals to... make things.’’ She had killed countless of birds mostly. Making objects levitate or feather light. ‘‘I don't know. Mostly it just happens on accident.’’ Or luck. How else would you call it? But taking her father's life, that was a secret she would take to the grave. Even if it was a mercy killing, she would never, ever forgive herself for what had happened.