14: Revelations

She still deserves to know.

Alexandrie hadn’t hesitated when she’d found out Grandmère Eshi’nani was awake and available in the rose garden. It had seemed appropriate - homely. Reminiscent of time spent with her own Grandmère back home.

Would Papa do what Aquideon seems to have done?

An easily answered, if uncomfortable question. To protect his family and take what he believed they were owed - most certainly. 

Would Grandmère allow it?

As she approached the Ebon elf, she knew the answer to that, too: If it were truly what the family deserved, and it served the greater good - she would do that and more. She would encourage him to do whatever needed to be done. And if the halfling who had given her a manicure were correct, La Progrès was the reason for the charcoal and destruction of the city and many deaths besides. Was Progress the greater good? Or the world that was here before? Child of Progress, Granddaughter of Rebellion - Alexa couldn’t decide where she stood.

Searching Eshi’nani’s face, Alexa wondered whether the older elf knew what Aquideon was doing, and found it difficult to believe she didn’t know. Whether she knew the collateral damage his actions had been causing - or whether she cared about it at all…that was the difference between Eshi’nani and Grandmère Alaina. She could only guess. Cousin or not, she could not ask this grandmère.

Damn Spider. The day had started so well. Well…as well as getting lost on a foreign estate in your undergarments could be. Though that had been a small price to pay for the experiences she’d had, and an even smaller price for the day that had followed. Icy swim aside, it felt good to climb trees and run through their boughs, to stretch and contract her body into handstands and rolls, to hang upside down and see the world through the eyes of a child.

It was then, blood rushing to fill her ears, that she’d had time to think of how angry Eshi’nani had been about the world’s lack of faith in Lucas’ grandpère - an expression she had seen on Grandmère’s face as a small child. She didn’t remember much of Grandpère - just that he had scooped her up more than once as she tried to run past on stubby legs before tickling her and holding her to him. She remembered confusion as his beard hair tickled her face and he called her by her mother’s name. The confusion was short-lived, though. He was corrected, and it changed nothing. Grandpère loved her - that much was true. He’d loved her and he had been magnificent and then he had been gone. She had rarely seen Grandmère furious but before he was gone she remembered fury. Never in his presence, but she remembered that expression. One of love and hurt and loss before he’d gone.

And so this Grandmère deserved to know, too. The man she loved was still magnificent. He lived and his magnificence had not changed. She thought so highly of him. Alexandrie had heard similar stories, but she had heard them from her own Grandmère’s mouth. 

As she left, she was unsure whether what she had done had soothed or hurt the elf more - he’d known he would not return, and she had seen it. However: she’d fixed a door earlier. Perhaps now she had opened another.

She’d lied to Maman the night before she’d left, and Maman likely knew, but had finished braiding her hair anyway, with no indication that anything was different - that anything would change. Had she known? Had Papa? He hadn’t asked. That didn’t mean he didn’t know - Papa indulged her, but he knew his daughter. 

As a child, when Papa would come to check Alexa was asleep, she would blow out the candle and pretend she was already sleeping. The sound of his booted feet approaching down the hall were as much a signal for bed as the gathering night; the only difference between childhood and womanhood the inclusion of a quiet, almost inaudible knock. He knew she heard his steps. If she were awake, she replied. Even if they’d argued and she had been silent at dinner, she would reply and they would make up before sleeping. Papa didn’t like to leave bad feelings hanging between them. Every night she knew Papa would visit, no matter how busy he and Maman were with other things, and they could discuss the day - discuss whatever was on her mind before bed. Then she would kiss his cheek, he would kiss her forehead and she would fall asleep to the percussive tap of retreating steps.

Hearing booted feet crunch on the grass near her, Alexandrie opened her eyes to see a member of staff standing before her, upside down. No, she was upside down. She swung to sit on the tree bough to regard him solemnly. 

“Lunch, m’lady,” he said, placing a tray gently on the ground. 

“Thank you,” she replied awkwardly. He nodded passively and left as quietly as he’d arrived. Sighing, Alexa descended from the tree. “Everybody grows up eventually,” she muttered, leaning unceremoniously against the trunk.

Had Grandmère known when she was leaving - for sure? Had Maman et Papa? She hadn’t really thought about it and later, sitting on the boat, watching a bird float on the wind in the wake of their passage, she crafted flowers to destroy by hand and braid into her hair rather than think of the answer. She’d already given the answer to Eshi’nani: Those who loved her knew she’d been unsure if they would see her again. It still hurt to know she’d hurt those she loved.

Eshi’nani and the Ebon elves clearly cared a great deal about family. Enough to do whatever it took to make things the way they were before... While she didn’t agree with their methods, and she didn’t understand why they would hire an assassin’s guild, and she didn’t know whether they were aware of the effect their decisions were having on people far from them…she could understand care for family. Which ultimately was what politics were, when she thought hard about it. Families at polite war. Aquideon simply wanted to make it more…impolite. 

The night before she’d left, there had been little to discuss with Papa. He’d just come home from a trip to another city, and he’d been home for only a few days. She’d ignored La Chanson, refusing to leave home until she could say goodbye to Papa, and now she half-wished she’d left while he was away. There was little she could say, knowing she was going to leave when the house was quiet and still. She’d hugged him, though, knowing it would be a long time until she got to hug him again - if she ever got to hug him again.

“Papa, I don’t think I’m ready to grow up yet. Not properly.” She’d murmured it in his ear as she hugged him - the closest she’d come to telling her parents what she was about to do.

“Everybody grows up eventually, Alexa,” he’d replied, kissing her forehead.

“Everybody grows up eventually. You’ll learn.”