Chapter Text
And His Word became all that might be:
Dream and idea, hope and fear,
Endless possibilities.Threnodies 5:1
Lachlan Vael sat in the garden of the royal palace on the marble bench where his Meghan had loved to sit, running his thumb over the gold locket he held. He stared straight ahead, not seeing the vista of Starkhaven spread out below him. He was an old man, he had outlived many loved ones, but this loss seemed insurmountable. His lips moved in prayer.
“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure.
Though all before me is shadow,
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond."
His voice trailed off. To go on without her seemed an impossible task. The ruling of Starkhaven seemed trivial to him, and that was no way for a ruler to feel. He would step down from the throne, let Corbinian take over. He would join the Chantry, spend his last years in service to the Maker and Andraste. Having made the decision, he felt better.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the little boy come up next to him until he heard him speak.
“I’m sorry about Grandmother, Granda.”
He looked down to see his youngest grandson looking up at him with Meghan’s sky blue eyes. Of all the children and grandchildren, only this little boy, referred to by his father as “the afterthought”, had inherited those vivid blue eyes.
He felt his throat tighten. “Thank you, lad.” he said roughly, pulling the boy onto his lap. Sebastian settled back, comfortably resting his head against his grandfather’s broad chest.
“Are you very lonely?” he asked, ingenuous as only a small child could be. Lachlan stroked his auburn curls. He was a handsome boy, and too charming by half. Like his grandmother.
“I miss her very much. But we are never truly alone. ‘For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light. And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost’. The time will come when I will see your grandmother again at the Maker’s side.” His thumb ran over the surface of the locket.
The boy reached out and took the locket out of his grandfather’s hands. His fingers traced the engraved caluna flowers, their buds represented by deep purple Starkhaven amethysts. He carefully opened the locket the way his grandmother had shown him, and looked at the portraits inside.
“That’s you and Grandmother isn’t it?”
Lachlan didn’t bother looking. “Yes lad.”
“You’re so young. It must have been painted a very long time ago.” Lachlan smiled at that. At barely five years old the idea of growing old was strange to Sebastian. He imagined his wife’s laughter at the boy’s statement, and felt his heart twist painfully.
The small finger traced Meghan’s face. “She was very pretty, wasn’t she?”
Lachlan looked down at the portrait. “She was beautiful.” he said, his voice catching. “And brave, and she had the loveliest laugh. She laughed all the time. She would light up a room when she entered it.”
The boy considered the picture in front of him. “When I get married, I’m going to marry a girl just like that. Not someone like Sara.” He said, making a face. Sara was the snobbish new wife of Sebastian’s oldest brother.
Lachlan couldn’t help laughing as he hugged the boy to him. ”You do that lad. You find a girl like that, and marry her, and I’ll give you the locket as a present for your bride.”