Youngest sister, I will accept the fault for so many transgressions and never gainsay your right to hold me to task for them, but you will not blame me for those last.
We made our bargain, at the very beginning, my word and magic on it, and I have upheld that bargain throughout, even past the point I was forced to return it to you: I have kept faith with you to precisely the extent to which it did not conflict with my older oaths. Certainly more than I could have; almost certainly more than I should have. But you will not hold me to task for having upheld that particular vow. I swore to you that I would do everything in my power to make certain you would survive the life you had chosen, and it is not my fucking fault that you did not believe me about the price it would demand of us both.
As for the rest of it, that I have failed, again and again: truth, and self-evident to any who have eyes to see. That I have done wrong: truth, and to you alone I will admit it, you who appointed yourself the keeper of my conscience even as I appointed myself your champion, but hindsight is the only vision we have that is not clouded. That I have broken all my vows, even the ones I should never have made: truth, and I will answer for that when my death is not clawed back from me, and the gods alone will be my judge. That it took me too long to see that those vows ought to have been broken, or never made in the first place: truth, and that truth is perhaps the bitterest, that I could have turned aside this wreck at a double dozen points, and by the time I saw any of them, it was far too late.
But I have never pretended with you, for all that you persist in attempting to see the better of me. I warned you. I warned you repeatedly, as plainly as I could and more plainly than I ought to have, and we have spoken often enough about choice and necessity that you know that my life is ruled almost entirely by the latter. There are many choices I do not have the luxury of making, and have not had for years.
And now you will want to tell me that there is no choice that cannot be made or unmade, and you will tell me that it is never too late to do the right thing, and you will persist in believing the better of me in hopes that the universe will bend to your will, and you will preach to me the virtues of fairness and mercy, and I will say to you what I have always said to you, which is that my life has always revolved around consequence. I pay my prices. I do not pay all of them gladly, nor will I ever stop regretting some of the prices the universe has asked of me, but I will not shirk them. That the consequences of all my actions up until now led me to a place where there is no right action, and not even the least worst -- that I regret, and the price those actions demanded of me. But it will not stop me.
Your side may be the better choice -- I will not argue that question with you. But they are killing mine, and while I likewise will not argue the question of which of them deserved to die, you cannot hold my desire to live against me any more than you can hold my desire that you live. When the choice is between atrocity and execution, I will choose atrocity, and make my excuses to the gods when I must. And at least now Barty is beyond the
Set me aside from your thoughts; you have undoubtedly spent enough of your influence on the question of me. I made my choices, and although I may regret some of them, I will not beg to be spared the consequence. But do not curse me for them. I have never pretended to be a tame lion.
That you have written the prayers for me is a comfort. What little of it I have left.
no subject
We made our bargain, at the very beginning, my word and magic on it, and I have upheld that bargain throughout, even past the point I was forced to return it to you: I have kept faith with you to precisely the extent to which it did not conflict with my older oaths. Certainly more than I could have; almost certainly more than I should have. But you will not hold me to task for having upheld that particular vow. I swore to you that I would do everything in my power to make certain you would survive the life you had chosen, and it is not my fucking fault that you did not believe me about the price it would demand of us both.
As for the rest of it, that I have failed, again and again: truth, and self-evident to any who have eyes to see. That I have done wrong: truth, and to you alone I will admit it, you who appointed yourself the keeper of my conscience even as I appointed myself your champion, but hindsight is the only vision we have that is not clouded. That I have broken all my vows, even the ones I should never have made: truth, and I will answer for that when my death is not clawed back from me, and the gods alone will be my judge. That it took me too long to see that those vows ought to have been broken, or never made in the first place: truth, and that truth is perhaps the bitterest, that I could have turned aside this wreck at a double dozen points, and by the time I saw any of them, it was far too late.
But I have never pretended with you, for all that you persist in attempting to see the better of me. I warned you. I warned you repeatedly, as plainly as I could and more plainly than I ought to have, and we have spoken often enough about choice and necessity that you know that my life is ruled almost entirely by the latter. There are many choices I do not have the luxury of making, and have not had for years.
And now you will want to tell me that there is no choice that cannot be made or unmade, and you will tell me that it is never too late to do the right thing, and you will persist in believing the better of me in hopes that the universe will bend to your will, and you will preach to me the virtues of fairness and mercy, and I will say to you what I have always said to you, which is that my life has always revolved around consequence. I pay my prices. I do not pay all of them gladly, nor will I ever stop regretting some of the prices the universe has asked of me, but I will not shirk them. That the consequences of all my actions up until now led me to a place where there is no right action, and not even the least worst -- that I regret, and the price those actions demanded of me. But it will not stop me.
Your side may be the better choice -- I will not argue that question with you. But they are killing mine, and while I likewise will not argue the question of which of them deserved to die, you cannot hold my desire to live against me any more than you can hold my desire that you live. When the choice is between atrocity and execution, I will choose atrocity, and make my excuses to the gods when I must.
And at least now Barty is beyond theSet me aside from your thoughts; you have undoubtedly spent enough of your influence on the question of me. I made my choices, and although I may regret some of them, I will not beg to be spared the consequence. But do not curse me for them. I have never pretended to be a tame lion.
That you have written the prayers for me is a comfort. What little of it I have left.