something is not the same

[oncedriven]

"...So, in the end, I suppose I never will see you married, after all."

Something tightens in your throat even as you chuckle. You fold your hands over one armored knee and instead say, "Well, I suppose I wouldn't object if you made overtures to Estinien. A political alliance with Ishgard wouldn't go amiss, and he and I have a practical enough understanding of each other that we're both well aware that it would be a matter of law only."

Your mother makes a most impressive face. "While I appreciate your attempt to salve the wound, I think not."

You bite back your laughter, but it must still show on your face, because she sighs and says, "Though I never thought that I would see you smile openly again. Not at anything save the flames of destruction that followed in your wake, at any rate."

You can't help but somber at the reminder. "Mother..."

She smiles, and even at her age, it reminds you enough of a smile you once lost that for a moment, that lost boy remains. But it is only a moment - even discounting five years in Dalamud's shell, before you broke free, reborn, as the person you are now...

At this point, you've lived more of your life without Nael than with him. And the past years have been full enough that you cannot consider yourself hollow at the thought any longer.

Your mother says, "In the end, you found happiness. I suppose that is the most I can ask for - that you lived, and that I got to see you smile once more, with the light heart that you had as a girl."

"My heart shall never be so light again," you say, "but if I live only for the weight of my sins, then what point is there in living at all?"

You are prepared for many things, but not for what happens next - for your mother's thin arms to close over your shoulders, armor and all (and though the armor you wear is lighter now, it still makes little difference to add the weight of her arms to it).

"My child," she whispers into your hair, the way she did when you were a child. Except there is a wryness to it this time as she continues, "My headstrong, improper daughter. My glorious little bird." You feel her shift, a hand playing with the hair at the back of your head. "Though ravens are hardly small birds, are they?"

"Mother." This time, you know, your voice is heated with embarrassment. Underneath runs the constant rivulet of fear, that you'll be found out, at this moment of all moments...

But of course, the walls of even this dilapidated train car are thick against the cold, and by extension, anyone who might listen in. And were you to lift your head, you would be sure to see Alisaie standing guard outside, as you so often watched over her before she grew into her own.

Your mother doesn't answer for a moment, save to pull you closer, until your face is pressed against her shoulder, the fine fabric of her dress against her cheek. "When Emperor Solus gave you that title, I wondered so often... He always said it as though it were a joke that no one else was in on. I was so afraid that he knew."

"...I am certain that he did," you say. From everything you know of the man now, from everything you can guess of what he must have seen when he looked at you... "He was so very fond of his little jokes."

And then, slowly, you pry yourself from your mother's embrace, taking her hands in yours, gaunt fingers and gauntlets. You look up at her, and say, "I believe you should sit down, Mother. There is much that I would say, no small part of it unbelievable, but if you are to meet the Alliance on an equal footing..."

You bite back the words. They're wrong. "No. If you are to understand the person I am now, there is much that you must hear."

Your mother's eyes narrow, the same expression that you did not see in the mirror for years because of the mask you wore. You know so much better how that calculating look feels from the inside than how to face it.

And then your mother, ever the perfect lady, releases her other hand from your shoulders to properly sweep her skirts to the side as she sits across from you. The one you still hold tangles in your fingers, firm even with the layers of metal and leather in between. It's thanks to her that you were blessed with fingers slim enough that you never lost dexterity in gauntlets, you realize, perhaps for the first time, perhaps anew. So much of those years beneath Dalamud is little more than a red-stained blur, now.

"At your one-year celebration," she says, her voice more quiet, more shaken than you've ever heard it, "His Radiance paid an unexpected visit. He told me to be proud, because he could tell that you were destined for great things."

You do not bite your lip, but only out of awareness of how your lip stain crackles against the chill, because Alisaie has the habit and the girl has rubbed off on you in far more ways than you would like. So he did know, then.

Your mother says, "Tell me everything. After everything that's already happened, what is there that I could disbelieve?"

You do not tell her, Wait until I tell you about the dragons, but it is a near thing.