Jade Fern Grove klagelied

For the span of several lengthened seconds, Wylla thought she had broken through. There wasn't any indication besides a yawning silence as Mahler mulled over the thoughts he caged within his skull, but she allowed herself the briefest moment of relief.

It was a mistake.

It was as if he hadn't heard what she said. For the first time, or at least the first she had acknowledged, Wylla wondered if he ever listened truly to what she had to say. There had been so many times where both of them had made assumptions of the other, but more times, she thought, where he simply did not understand what she was saying. Something cold began to rise in her gorge.

I just said... She trailed off, pulled a deep breath of the cold air, tried to stave off her indignation. No thought whatsoever for her. Only his children, and if she agreed that they were welcome, would that even sway him, or would it simply satisfy some male need to control everything with no thought for the others? Nyx is not welcome in my life. Not ever again. On that, she would not budge. Wylla would sooner kill Nyx than tolerate a second more of her flippant disregard for her authority.

But I... I was unfair to Ciri and Elke. I know that. They are not her and they did not deserve to be treated poorly on account of it. I... I am not good at that. A niggling voice in her head, reminding her that they were Nyx's daughters, and likely carried Nyx's penchant for disrespect, and that having them around was no better than Nyx herself. That would not be tolerated. They didn't have to like her but they would have to treat her according to her station, however that looked. But Mahler would side with them, it whispered. He would hold her in further contempt if she reacted to a lack of respect. She chose to believe otherwise. I could do better. With them. With Astraeus. She could offer acceptance instead of tolerance or indifference, so long as he respected that that was much as she could give him. They would never be treated like second children to her just because of Mahler, but she could do better than she had in the past. At least, she could try.

But he had to respect her boundaries on that. They existed for a reason. She clung to the hope even as he went on, and when he stated the last, she let out a soft breath. You are someone who knew me briefly, and didn't see me for over a year, and had other women from which to choose, she said, and still you told me you loved me. Only me. After all that time. What dream did he imagine she had of him? Only that that short breath of romanticism existed in him still, instead of the hungry, greedy creature she feared he had become, wanting only what he did not already have, and failing to cherish that which he did besides his pride.