Stavanger Bay Hope it isn't repetition, though that's the only thing that keeps and takes you

What Reverie did not anticipate was her own relief.
His anger burned the space between them and then fell away, and with it, some of the hurt receded too. Lestan had understood her, once. He'd understood that she always tried to do what was best, even if her logic sometimes became tangled in the process. He'd trusted that she wanted him to be happy.
But she realized now that trust was what she had broken when she'd threatened to take her own life, or at least one of the things she'd broken. He had tried so hard to keep her alive, had done so much for her, and she had threatened to discard his efforts. There was no reason for him to think that she had his best interests in mind. And she had been selfish to deny him space to heal from wounds caused by her, though Reverie wished fiercely that he would have just said it, that he would acknowledge, directly and out loud, that she was the problem. If what he needed was to be away from her, she would give him that; forever, if that was what it meant.
And she realized, too, that she did not want to live anymore, not after Blossom had grown and gone her own way — and that she would anyway, if only for the fear that Lestan might someday find out that she had done as she'd threatened after all. Maybe it was best that she was going to Sweetharbor. Reverie could feel the haze creeping up on her already, and she knew that she couldn't leave Blossom like this, not now. Everett would know what to do. Everett would be able to care for Blossom. And Reverie...
She would sleep.

She went to the sea, and for a long time she only sat and stared, and wondered what her life would be like without Lestan. Then she went to her daughter, and started to gather their things for the journey. She would speak to Bridget before they left. She would have to tell Vairë and Rhaegal, too. Perhaps Everett was already on his way here, and Lestan wouldn't need to escort her at all.
For a time she busied herself with these thoughts, and felt nothing. But eventually she started to really think about it, the end, the lonely nights ahead, and she found herself leaning against the wall of the den she would soon leave behind and sobbing. She did not want to go. But she would. Only as long as you want me, she'd once promised him in the quiet of her own mind, only as long as I can bring light to your eyes — and she'd meant it.