we can't go on like this | 4.24, laate night | (Gemma, Fabian) | CLOSED

[Gemma Forthwind]

Gemma pushed the door to her brother's room open, while strategically trying to balance a full tray on one hand and maneuver her way into the room at the same time. She almost fell right onto her face but managed to brace herself on the doorframe.

"Phew, that could have gone wrong and I quite like this face!" she said, jokingly. Her brother sat still as as statue on the side of his bed, looking at something that she knew he had memorised each line of already. She was not surprised that her brother did not look up from the chair he was sitting in, nor that he did not even acknowledge her presence.

She set down the tray on the edge of his bed and hovered for a while, watching his face; the drawn tell-tale lines that betrayed his age, the fine strands of grey hair that were beginning to show and probably most striking of all were the eyes that were staring straight ahead, unaware of anything that was going on around him. She had seen him like this so often that she was not at all taken aback by his numb state. The half-empty glass on his table spoke volumes.
She cleared her throat. "Fabs?" He did not answer, did not even twitch to show that he had heard anything. To occupy her mind and more importantly, to keep herself from bursting into tears, Gemma began moving the food and drink from the tray to Fabian's desk.

"You did not show at supper. I was worried," she said carefully. He winced slightly, and she knew that he was listening. "So I brought you some food. Biscuits, apple pie, some manchet. There was rabbit, but the children ate everything." She watched him nod and she sighed, picking up a cup of tea she had brought him.

"Here," she said, handing him the cup. He drank it, though she was sure he did it only to pacify her. "Thank you," Fabian said. She swallowed and sat down beside him, though she did not touch him. "You can't go on like this." He did not reply. "You're bringing us down with you. You're killing us all."

"And what..." he started, "what do you propose I do?" Gemma shook her head. "I don't know, Fabian. But you can't keep building a wall around yourself. You can't ignore your children. They need you. Especially Arthur." Tentatively, Gemma reached for his hand, noting that his was freezing. "She looks just like her." She nodded, knowing that he was speaking about Alys. "I know." Alys really did look just like her mother with her dark, almost-black hair and sparkling eyes of mischief. "I know that it's not fair. It's not her fault... but... I can't be around her."

She stood up, fetching a piece of the manchet and handing it to him. "Eat this." She knew that he would not touch the food otherwise. "Then you're going to have to force yourself," she said in response to his earlier comment. "To be around her. But the boy especially... Arthur... he's... changing." She chose her words carefully even as Fabian nodded his agreement. "I know. Do you think that I don't notice these things?" She heard the guilt in his voice and knew that he meant what he said.
Mirabelle. Gemma knew that they had loathed each other at first. They had always been fighting, constantly arguing and completely reluctant to show any sort of affection for each other. She had been opposed to the idea of the Shadow Assassins and she had voiced her opinion rather bluntly. He thought that she was frigid and bland and he let her know this day in and day out.

In public they had behaved normally, like any married couple had to. Polite small-talk and smiles that never reached their eyes were the norm but anyone in House Forthwind knew that they fought like ferocious cats in private. Gemma did not know what had changed and Fabian never told her, but somewhere along the lines, perhaps they had matured, the fighting stopped. The angry voices turned to laughter at his jokes. Instead of arguing, they took picnics at the beach and he taught her how to swim.
Her pregnancy with Arthur made a changed man out of him. They had been excited about the baby, constantly teasing each other about how he wanted a boy and she wanted a girl. He wanted a perfect nursery for the boy or girl and he hadn't even accepted any missions from the Shadow during her pregnancy. Gemma had sat outside in the hall with him when Mirabelle was giving birth, had witnessed his frantic pacing and his worried eyes as he asked her again and again whether his wife would be alright. It was a boy. There was a party, a festival for Arthur and Mirabelle was alright.

Five years later, tragedy struck. After Alys was born, Mirabelle fell ill. Fabian was concerned, naturally. He had been frantic and tense, prone to angry outbursts and random aggression. He had asked many healers and doctors and maesters from all over Forsilvra for help. He read books to her by her bedside and he prayed to the Gods not to take her from him. Not so soon. Only the Gods did not listen and Mirabelle withered and finally died. Gemma had never seen someone quite so devastated, quite so lost, before.

She looked down at her lap, pondering about how she should phrase what she was thinking. "Fabian... your family is falling apart. I am doing all that I can... but if they don't trust you, then there is nothing I can-" she froze when she saw a single tear escape her brother's eyes and it killed her to see him like this. She did not comment on it, knowing that he would probably not appreciate it. He never let anyone see him cry but she knew that he did. She had secretely witnessed it enough during his worst phase after Mirabelle's death.

"I'll speak to Arthur tomorrow," he said. "I'll try to fix things." She nodded. "You hate being here, don't you?" He shook his head. "No. I don't hate it. Just... everything reminds me of her. In Faeta it's different. I'm Fabian, a feared assassin over there. People are afraid of me and I hate everyone. I hate everything there. I can sleep in Glodhet."

"And you can't here?"

He shook his head. "No. She's in my head here."