Night, Mother, [Sven]

[Sven Winterborn]

He did not stir. He merely gazed at the ceiling.

[Astraea Winterborn]

She almost snarled around the words as she said, "I loved your brother," and pushed against the bed to rise to her feet again.

[Sven Winterborn]

"And he loved you," Sven said softly, with a long sigh. "What are we debating here?"

[Astraea Winterborn]

Her brow furrowed, and her throat went tight as she bowed her head. Her response was slow to come to her, but by the time she forced a deep breath in and took a step away, she found herself able to say, "We aren't debating anything."

She didn't want to fight with him, though the temptation to show him some anger was strong.

"I'm tired," she muttered as she tried to put some distance between herself and the bed, running the back of her hand over her right eye for a moment.

[Sven Winterborn]

He sat upright, watching her walk away.

"Astraea," Sven seriously said, "were those not the questions a concerned mother would ask her daughter?"

[Astraea Winterborn]

Astraea stopped abruptly then turned to look at Sven, something in her eyes a little too sharp, too hard.

"Don't defend her," she said, her words nearly spoken through her teeth, dripping with venom. "Her questions were those a woman who wanted to try to play the part of concerned mother would ask. There is nothing genuine about that woman's concern. She has had her chances to be a decent mother to me. She has only made attempts to succeed when it has been convenient for her."

[Sven Winterborn]

He held his hands up.

"All I know," Sven patiently replied, "is that everyone has issues discussing sensitive matters such as these with their parents." He had never got along with his mother, after all.

That didn't mean she hadn't loved him, in her own, distorted way.

[Astraea Winterborn]

"You're implying that I'm sensitive."

Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't . . . She didn't want to have to defend herself against an accusation of that kind. According to most people, she was anything but sensitive, of course. She was the frigid, unfeeling Ice Queen of Escova who could neither smile nor frown without her face shattering.

"I don't have difficulty discussing matters with my mother simply because they are personal and possibly embarrassing or painful. I have difficulty pretending I want to speak to that wench at all. I have difficulty tolerating her delusional attempts at being a mother now, knowing that any time she might have been needed, she was a cowardly, submissive fool incapable of doing a thing to help. It's too late for her to be playing the perfect mother. She's nothing but a slave to my father's will, and her pretending to be something different for the sake of her reputation is repulsive."

"She is a mother only when it is convenient. I've no need for a woman like that. I'm not a child anymore. I'm a queen."

[Sven Winterborn]

Was he implying that she was sensitive? Or was he implying she was human?

His heart bled for her nonetheless.

Her father had given her away to a strange land. Her mother had not fought for her. Could she have fought for her, though? That was the essential question. Her mother had not the opportunity he'd given Astraea. Just like Sven's mother, her mother had not had the final say on the matter.

Yet any opposition, however symbolic, could have gone a long way to endear herself with her daughter. Had she tried? Sven could only guess, or hope. From Astraea's words of hurt and pain he could only gather disfavourable answers to that question.

"Not all wives have the power you do," he eventually said, softly as he stood up.

[Astraea Winterborn]

"And how do you suppose I obtained that power?" Astraea asked immediately in return, crossing her arms. "Was it luck? Nothing more than a well-formed body? Or do you mean to suggest it is all the product of your kindness, your willingness to allow me my freedom?"

[Sven Winterborn]

He shrugged, unperturbed, and turned to pick up his ringlet from the bed. "All three, perhaps."

[Astraea Winterborn]

"I earned this," Astraea argued. "Your brother did not buy me to be his queen, to rule after his death. I was made queen, and I had to work for the power I now have. Had you not refused your place as king to begin with, I would have done what was necessary to take control. If you had tried to get rid of me to take your place as king without me as your queen, I would have done what was necessary to ensure that could not happen."

He could get imaginative about it-- she hardly cared in the moment.

"My mother may be lacking in motivation or the intelligence to pursue her own goals, despite what her husband may want, but I'll not believe she has no choice."

That was the point, hidden behind the hostility and suggestion.

Uncrossing her arms, feeling restless again, she explained further, "Her choice has always been to submit to the will of others . . . because it is easy, because that is a life without any real responsibility. I feel no shame for being disgusted by such passive behavior."