In Which Holladrin Debates the Greatest Tragedy of All

February 19, 1162

The stained glass windowpanes had been repaired quickly, but it was so fine a job that one would have never believed it had been done in so little time had they not seen its previous sate shortly before the repairs had begun. Holladrin, however, had seen the window in its broken state, so she could be certain that it had indeed been broken beforehand; her difficulty was in accepting the fact that her own, formerly impeccable cousin had been the one to break it.

It was common knowledge that Medea's mother had lost her mind well before she died. Though Holladrin knew this, she had not yet been born when the countess had died, and therefore had never witnessed her decline firsthand. Roderick, however, had some recollection of her, and he had sworn to her that she had not gone nearly so insane as Medea. Perhaps--though she felt positively horrible for even considering the thought--it had been for the best that she had died giving birth to Cambrin. Had she lingered for longer, she may have ended up just like her daughter; reduced to bare animalism, instinctively tearing herself from her cage in whatever physically possible way, even if it meant a fall to her death.

Someone knocked on the door. "Who is it?" she inquired softly, praying it was neither Sparron nor Jeda; neither of them needed to see their mother's final prison.

"It's just me," replied Octavius--to her great relief. "Do you mind if I come in?"

She knew that he could not see her, but she shook her head regardless. "Please, do."

Behind her, the door creaked open, his footsteps drawing nearer; in this macabre chamber, his presence was oddly calming. "I'm sorry about your cousin," he told her grimly.

I'm sorry about your cousin. A pity, truly; it should have been she telling him that she was sorry about his wife. Unfortunately, Medea had never truly been such in more than name alone.

"It's probably for the best," sighed Holladrin. "I'm sorry that I made you move her, however; I thought she would be safer here than in that dungeon. Tragically ironic, really."

"No one would have guessed that she would have done such a thing," he tried to reassure her.

Though not entirely convinced, Holladrin turned to face him. "I suppose you're right. Now, what did Vulcran have to say?"

One of the sons of the Count of Valcria had arrived that morning, evidently with some news from Dovia for all the noble families. As she had spent the day with Octavius's children, and had then retreated to Medea's room, Holladrin had not yet heard it.

"His niece Riona was married my nephew Nythran on the ninth," Octavius explained. "It was a private ceremony, as per the wishes of her father. She is now Lady Felonis."

Holladrin raised an eyebrow. "Haldred's daughter? Isn't she only fourteen?"

Octavius shrugged. "Her sister married at thirteen."

That was true. Alas, marriage was probably not the most sensitive of topics to discuss with Octavius at present, she realized a moment too late. Slowly, she extended her arm and reached for his hand, endowing it with a gentle squeeze. "Sorry. You probably don't want to talk about such things, do you?"

Her fingers briefly brushed against his wedding band; resignedly, they both let go, allowing their hands to fall back to their sides.

"Don't worry about how I feel about all of this," he insisted after a brief moment of silence. "I came to terms with it some time ago."

"I see. Your children seem to be taking it well enough too," she mused aloud.

Sighing, he shook his head. "And perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of all; when I told them that their mother had died, they seemed quite surprised at the fact that they even had one. They never did get to know her, and even before her decline, she was never particularly interested in them."

Holladrin frowned; she could imagine for one second how anyone could be indifferent to two such wonderful children as the twins. "That, Octavius, is the greatest tragedy of all."

Nodding, Octavius took a minute to inhale slowly. Then--

"Sit with me a minute?"

She took him by the hand and allowed herself to be led to the couch by the empty fireplace. They both took a seat, then exchanged a quick glance.

"I'm sorry that you were pulled into the middle of all this, Holladrin," he began. "I hope you understand that I would have never purposely hurt you."

She nodded. "I know, but you didn't hurt me. If anything, I hurt you."

"You couldn't if you tried, I assure you."

Holladrin lightly tapped the frame of the couch with her foot as she shifted her weight back and forth on the cushion. "So... what do we do now?"

Octavius closed his eyes. "I suppose there is nothing left to do but wait."

"It is soon," she agreed.

"Very."

"We shall wait."

"Just... wait."

"Wait..."

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