There was silence, and she wondered if she had said the right thing.

Is there any such thing as destiny? Fate, as some would call it? Is it possible that her past – that their past was meant to be as it was? That even now, even knowing the results of her actions, that she would do it all over again the same as she had before? Would she emerge as the same mare that she had come to be? She had grown, Mauja was correct about that – but would she have grown in the same ways, had things been different? Would he have groomed her into becoming his queen? Or would he have given up on her? Would she have ended up alone, or would they be standing together now?

Did she even want to know?

It was for the best that things had gone the way they had. She had somehow made the right decisions, even if they had seemed wrong at the time. Perhaps her leaving was the crack in the iceberg, the beginnings of her heart thawing. Perhaps the overwhelming guilt at stealing their daughter away had been her undoing, for it was surely what had started her on the path to this – this redemption. Once she would have considered herself weak, even in the role that she held now. Her personality would have been deemed weak, her ideals weak, everything about her weak. But now… now she saw only strength.

How liberating it was to realize that she had broken free of her father’s oppression. How wonderful is was to understand that caring did not lead to your downfall – instead, it was as Mauja said. Affection would lift her up where fear would not, would grant her loyalty where threats would inspire only hatred. She had grown, yes, and it was all somehow, inexplicably thanks to him. She wanted him to share in it, not for the glory of it, but because they truly could do more together than they could apart.

His voice breaks the silence, breaks through her myriad thoughts and emotions. She nodded as he acknowledged her discovery. His weight shifted toward her, and for the briefest moment she thought he meant to lean upon her – for what, support? And then he plunged into reminiscent words, explanations – perhaps even a bit of an apology? Something inside her shied away from him as he recounted his experience with the Thief, another part of her rearing its ugly, jade-eyed head with jealousy, and still another seeking solace for its wounded heart. But when his eyes met hers, the pieces of her mind that had spiraled so briefly out of control returned, fell under her command once more.

Once, she might have held him responsible, might not have understood the trauma that he had been through. She still could not hope to completely empathize. And yet she knew that he had not been himself during that dark time, and she had, in fact, tried to give him his space so that he might find his own way. And he had returned to her side, admitted to his wrongdoing (for she did indeed think that his actions were wrong, even if she chose not to hold it against him). But it was his last words that caused her breath to catch. It was only for a second, perhaps not even perceptible – but somehow she knew that he would hear.

But how to respond? For once, the Empress was well and truly at a loss for words. I forgive you, seemed too broad, too assuming. How could you? was too false, too affronted. And more than anything, she could not hope to come up with an eloquent response to that last. ”We've all made mistakes. I can’t hold you accountable for those you might have made,” she finally whispered, unsure. ”I… we weren’t… there was no reason you shouldn’t have….” Was there? No – no, of course not. They were nothing, then. They had never been anything, though she had been to blind to realize it. Never, until that day in the Meadow with Delinne and the skyrat. And even then - never, until today.

”Did you want to be together?” That question was softer even than before; the next, barely audible: ”Do you want to be together?” Her mouth was suddenly dry, a feeling much like trepidation blossoming in her bosom. This was hallowed ground over which she walked now, the path untried and untested. She could only hope that it did not fall out from under her. Panic grew, and she wondered if she wanted to hear the answer, if perhaps this might be too much honesty. But perhaps it was only shame: I do, she couldn’t quite say, the words catching in her throat. But in her amber gaze, perhaps for the first time, there was something akin to hope.

"Talk talk talk."