Everyone seemed to be sleeping at the late hour, but Valaeda couldn't seem to take her mind off the day's events. So much was happening so quickly, it was overwhelming. The poor woman barely had time to let one thought sink in before something else was thrust upon her.
She opened the door to her apartments at the Emberhearth, carefully shutting it behind her. Sethryon lay sleeping on the nearby couch, long legs draped over the arm. Valaeda smiled softly as she picked up the blanket that had fallen off, gently draping it over him once more. Her hand quickly caressed his scruffy cheek before she went on towards her own room and closed the door.
As per usual, a single white rose was sitting in a vase on her writing desk. The sight itself was odd, as it was really the only bright colored item in the room, everything else either black or very close to it. Valaeda settled herself at the writing desk, opening her current leather bound journal and settling on a blank page. Taking up her pen, she began to write.
Yesterday I hear from my aunt that my father is to be married to a Wintersun woman. I wonder if I was expected to jump for joy at the prospect of having a proper mother in my life. No, I think not. My aunt knows me better than that. It's family business that everyone was supposed to hear, not only myself. I can't help but to feel a little bitter, however. My father comes back into my life only to be married off. There's still much I have to show him before they tie him down to the wench. I still haven't introduced him to Sethryon yet.
Valaeda stopped momentarily, wondering why she wanted to introduce Sethryon to her father. Was their relationship evolving to such levels already? She shook her head and continued writing.
Maybe not quite yet. Sethryon leaves a rose for me every night since the first time he gave me one on Mother's Day. I've taken to wearing them in my hair once they've fully opened the next morning and giving them to the Great Fire at the end of the night, if I am able to. Sometimes the chamber is occupied, but there are other braziers I can give my offerings to.
Speaking of Mother's Day, I had a strange visitor today. A woman named Tessaerys Bloodraven who claims to be my mother.
The woman sighed softly before continuing on.
I have been preparing for this day for as long as I can remember. I planned what I would say to her, how I would say it. I remember practicing in front of the mirror, making sure my expression was just right. It all escaped me when she began presenting facts that no one but my mother would know. She mentioned the small scar behind my ear from the surgeon cutting me on accident when trying to get me out. I don't even think Aunt Adrya knows about that.
I felt like I would know my mother when I saw her, but this woman was strange and foreign. Her way of speech was even different. The accent she spoke with was thick with the tones of Common. The more she spoke, the more I listened. I could hear the emotion in her voice, the emotion she didn't restrain, but let take over like it was some wild animal.
I remember someone telling me that my mother must have been gorgeous because I possessed a 'captivating beauty' that was 'stunning to behold'. Truth be told, I have seen women with better looks than this woman, but there was another element to her that I hadn't seen in those women, an element that surely drew my father in centuries ago. She was real. She didn't cake her face in cosmetics (of which I am very much guilty of), nor did she make any attempts to hide any blemishes. Her eyes lit up when she spoke of Ann'da, and then the light would fade as she continued on. The way she talks with her hands, her laugh, her easy smile. It was strange, yet she put me under her spell.
She told me she had joined up with the Dawnfury, the regiment my aunt is a Commander of. They are shipping out tomorrow and she wanted to meet me before they shipped off. I have given her permission to write me if she so desires, as I could tell from her passionate speech that she did truly wish to mend the rift she created. Time will tell on that as actions are better indicators of intent than words.
However, I did tell her of Ann'da's arrangement to get married right before she left and it seemed to knock the wind out of her. Surely she didn't think he would wait around for her, especially considering she up and left him with a child all alone. She thanked me for the news, and I saw her begin to wilt like a flower in oppressive heat. Before, it seemed like she was made of stronger stuff. I did not expect mere words about a former flame to hit her as hard as it did.
I don't even know how to begin to explain how I feel about this woman suddenly coming back into my life just as my father returned. I hope she realzies that things will not be as they had planned so long ago. While I do not yet trust her, I will not be so cold as to keep her from contacting me. We all deserve second chances.
Valaeda closed the journal and set back on the shelf behind the desk. The expansive wall of journals she had kept was another thing she wanted to show her father, considering until recently, they were all letters to him. She would have to translate the later ones, as she had begun writing in her own fabricated language, or she could teach him. Somehow, she felt that teaching him a language would be a feat of strength in itself.
Silently, she rose from the chair and braided her hair for bed. She exchanged the black dress for a nightgown of a similar shade and settled herself into bed. As she closed her eyes, she muttered a prayer to her ancestor to protect those she held dear. That night she added one more name to this list.
