In Which Holladrin's Heart and Head Agree

November 19, 1178

The fire in Holladrin's lungs had faded to embers, but it wouldn't be long before it flared up again. She knew it. Her husband knew it, her children knew it, even the cats knew it. She had put up a good fight, as had those around her. Laveria and Hilla and all the rest of the healers had done their best--better than that, as she'd far outlived their expectations--and after so many long years, she could hardly begrudge them if all they could do now was keep her comfortable.

Besides... all in all, she'd had a good life, longer than many ever got. For all it pained her to think that she'd never see her children grow up, never cradle her grandchildren in her arms, it was hardly fair to ask for more. If this was her time, then it had not been wasted.

"You'll give Pandora my wedding dress, won't you?"

It hadn't been all that long ago when Octavius would have gone all wide-eyed and begged her not to talk like that, but she was relieved that those days were over. The sooner he got used to the idea, the sooner he would be able to move on; she didn't want to think of him moping around like Oswald-post-Athalia, or filling voids with hedonistic gambles like Severin-post-Alina. She wanted him as he was; steadfast, stable, holding the family together. "She'll be beautiful."

"She will. I'll see it for myself." Though not likely from here. "And Thallie can have my ruby pendant. She always did like it."

Octavius nodded. "All right."

"And the boys... well, I can't imagine they'd be interested in any of my possessions. Just tell them that Mama loves them. And tell Sparron and Jeda that I always thought of them as my own."

"I'll tell them every day."

Once a day. It would not be enough, but it would have to suffice. "Thank you. And tell yourself I love you too."

He smiled, or tried to. It never reached his eyes, but she could give him credit for the effort. "And you tell yourself the same from me."

Some seething thing spread from the corner of her lung upward. It was slow, but sure; she would have time before it took over, but there would be no more beyond that. Something in her heart knew it and something in her head agreed. "Octavius? Can you fetch the children?"

It was not a request she ever made lightly, but he felt no need to argue. He just kissed her and slipped off the bed, footsteps firm on the hardwood as he hurried to the door.

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