• Graded • The Memory of Zvezdana

[Yrmellyn Cole]

The Memory of Zvezdana

Vhalar 7, Arc 716, Andaris, In the evening

Yrmellyn could hardly believe it, when she heard what had transpired in Rynmere and that her friend from the past, Zvezdana, was now called the fallen false queen. When had they first met? It had been four years ago, when Yrmellyn had recently turned twenty-six and Zvezdana had been around twenty years old. They were both born in the season of Vhalar, named after the season bringer, the Immortal of Fall, Festivals, and Art; he who was also called the Guardian of Oaths.

Andaris had been celebrating something. Yrmellyn couldn’t remember exactly what the event had been about, but the atmosphere had been lighthearted, and there had been gaiety and dance and song. The festivities had started early in the day, and continued into the evening and the night. She recalled lanterns, some of them plain and others colored, indoors in crowded tavern, outdoors in the public gardens ... to be honest Yrmellyn’s memories were somewhat hazy, because she had imbibed quite a lot of alcoholic brews that day. She had been carried away by the carefree and playful atmosphere and cheerfully accepted the food and drinks fate sent her way, without bothering to keep track of how much she drank.

Yrmellyn had also amused herself by dancing with many different people, and she had flirted senselessly with everybody in sight, but with no serious intentions towards anybody. She had felt a delightful feeling of freedom when doing so. In her past as courtesan in Rharne, flirt and seduction had been tools to use in a deliberate and skilled way, due to what the situations demanded. It had been serious business. Flirting just for fun had been out of question in those days. During the periods of time when she’d had a permanent protector it had been important to act as a faithful lover with eyes only for him, and never as the kept courtesan she really had been. This had been part of the mutual playacting between her and those men; they hadn't been paying for cheap reality, but for expensive dreams.

And in the periods of time when she had been looking for somebody new to take her on? It had been a more intricate game of encouragement and deterrence. It had been important to attract several aspiring new protectors and make them compete for her, but not more than two or three, which must all be made to feel they were the chosen one, even if they weren’t chosen this time. Perhaps in the future? The future and the inevitable end of the "love story" had always been on her mind even before a new relationship started.

There had been no calculations of benefits and profit behind her carefree behavior. Sadly, Yrmellyn had also forgotten to calculate the risks. Not all the people she had danced and flirted with that day were content with only dance and flirting. On the way home, the tipsy Yrmellyn had made a narrow escape from an assault. The one who had helped her had been a young noblewoman named Zvezdana. For reasons unknown to Yrmellyn, Zvezdana had sympathized a lot with her, in a situation when some people would have said the rape attempt had been Yrmellyn’s own fault, for behaving carelessly. Instead of blaming Yrmellyn, Zvezdana had lent the painter a cloak to replace the one she had lost in the garden, and made sure she came home safe and sound.

There had been a few more meetings between the two of them during their brief acquaintance. In the light of the first meeting, Yrmellyn had kept thinking of Zvezdana as a good and emphatic soul. She had been grateful for the noble lady’s attention, albeit she never really knew the reason for why the woman took interest in her. Their social standings had been so different, but Yrmellen had still felt friendship for Zvezdana.

The painter had been a pauper at the time, just like she still was. There hadn't been anything she could buy for Zvezdana as a farewell gift when she left Rynmere. If there had been sufficient time she could have painted something unique for her rescuer and noble benefactor. A portrait, painted by a friend? This could have been just the right gift, but Yrmellyn hadn’t wanted to rush it and do a bad job of it. In lieu of offering to paint Zvezdana at once, she had sworn an oath by the name of Vhalar, the Protector of Oaths, that she would forever remember Zvezdana as she was, and she would paint a portrait of her when they met again, if Zvezdana so would wish.

Yrmellyn thought of this memory now, four years later, when she sat writing a letter to Zvezdana. Her oath by the name of Vhalar, Protector of Oaths, and her memory of Zvezdana as she had been, guided the painter as she wrote.

To Lady Zvezdana Venora, Greetings.

You may not remember me, as it's been four long Arcs since we met in the past.

But mabye you will recall that you saved a painter from an assault in the public gardens in Vhalar 716.

I recently returned to Rynmere, and I was saddened when I heard what transpired here, and what your own fate is. You were always the kindest of benefactors, and though I don't want to be forward I have always thought of you as a friend.

At my departure from the city in 712 I promised you that I would keep you in my mind and in my memory, and next time I would come to Rynmere I would paint your portrait, if you so wish.

I'd be honored if you would allow me to keep this promise now, and give you the picture I've thought of many times during the past arcs.

She signed the letter. “Sincerely yours, Yrmellyn Cole”. Tomorrow she would find a way to send it.

[Zvezdana Venora]

Vhalar 11, 716

The fire had died down, offering only a small glow to the small room that had been provided to her in Jorick's keep. The room had all of the basics. The bed was shoved off to the side with the chest of her garments set at the end of it. Somehow, all of her possessions had managed to arrive at Jorick's keep from all across Rynmere. Her clothes had arrived from the chests from the front lines and her pet, Cornelius, had safely arrived from her rooms in Burhan. Precious gifts from her wedding were stored away in the chest with her clothes. Veljorn's armor was stacked dismissively in the corner, currently causing the occupant too much pain to address. Zvezdana sat at a lonely table in the middle of the room, her features barely lit by the low burning fire. She seemed thinner than anyone would remember. In the last few trials, she had barely eaten. Since the Qe'Dreki defeat at the Battle of Andaris, she had been in hiding. Only briefly had she been at home, but even there she did not feel safe. She had seen Andraska long enough to explain her situation before taking flight with a small entourage of Qe'Dreki soldiers and Vivian Warrick to Jorick's Keep.

Despite the defeat, other emotions ate at her. Veljorn's death affected her greatly. She was heart broken and angry. Finally she had found someone that was as motivated to achieve greater things as she was, and he had been swiped away. Elyna - formerly sweet, caring, naive Elyna - had taken a blade and forced it into his neck. Despite the physical blade entering Veljorn, Elyna also drove a phantom blade into Zvezdana's heart. She had not been right in the head since that attack. The fallen queen had made a deal with the devil, and it had cost more than she would have ever expected. Now in a constant internal battle for her soul, Zvezdana was having difficulty feeling normal. Rage seemed to constantly simmer in the pit of her stomach, flaring up like bad indigestion. Sadness cooled that rage, pulling her into an eternal, spiraling darkness. She felt so alone, despite being surrounded by like minded individuals who had suffered just as much as she had.

A knock came on her door, but it did not seem to phase her. A few trills passed before the knock was repeated. Again, Zvezdana ignored it. Finally, the person outside the door simply said she was coming in. Permission had not been granted for entry, but it had not been granted for quite sometime. Zvezdana considered that they only reason the servants kept forcing themselves upon her was the fact that Drekki Rikki Blackwood insisted that she be taken care of. For the baby's sake.

Zvezdana placed a hand on her growing belly, running her thumb up and down the fabric of her dress. This was the reason why she had not already taken her own life or sought a public hanging for her crimes against the crown. She had Veljorn's heir, the future of the Qe'Dreki growing inside of her. That was worth the world right now.

"Lady Venora," She had returned to her maiden name. She had not really been married long enough to be considered a Burhan. Besides, it was a Burhan that had killed her husband and she refused to acknowledge the family for their betrayal. "I have brought your dinner."

Zvezdana waved her hand towards the area where they had deposited tray after tray of food. The previous tray from her afternoon tea lay untouched. The servant girl sighed, frustrated. She had been in time and time again to collect the trays and replace them with warm food only to return to find them once again untouched. If she were braver, she would probably demand that Zvezdana untwist her panties and pull her head out of the dismal cloud she had it shoved in. At least, for the baby's health. The girl set the dinner tray on the table, removing a sealed envelope from it. "Something came for you from Andaris City. A Yrmellyn Cole has written you a letter."

The girl slid it across the table to her before taking the lunch tray and excusing herself. Zvezdana continued to stare into the fire. Yrmellyn. That was a name that only faintly rang a bell. Many arcs ago, she recalled meeting a young woman by that name. Eventually her gaze moved from the fire to the envelope. Thin fingers reached for the parchment, removing the letter from the envelope. In the dying light, she read the note addressed to her. It did not bring butterflies and warm memories to her body, but it at least had pull her enough out of her haze to acknowledge it. Apparently the girl had thought her to be kind and a friend. How few of those she had now. Aside from Vivian Warrick, her right hand friend and guard, Zvezdana did not trust anyone. To be sought out by an artisan was unusual for her.

She sat for a bit or two more, contemplating her next move. A good portion of her wanted to take the letter and set it on the embers. Zvezdana could easily forget the effort put forward by the artist to console her by pretending she never received the letter. A small portion wanted some form of normalcy in her life, and seeking friends and company was classified as normal. The rage within her was simmering low enough it had no say in her decision. The letter stared at her, inviting her to return to life. To create alliance and make friendships. To rebuild all that had been destroyed at the end of the last season. Zvezdana had to make a decision, here and now, to continue living or die as a shadow of her former self.

Quietly, she reached over and pulled the plate of food towards her.

Vhalar 12, 716

Yrmellyn Cole,

Your letter could not have come at an uglier time in my life. It was the small glimmer of hope I needed to remember who I was. Although I may only be a shadow of the woman you remember, I would like to invite you to visit. I cannot disclose the location, but the soldier accompanying this letter will be willing to escort you here at your convenience.

I may not be of physical condition to have a painting commissioned of myself, but we can discuss that if and when you join me. I look forward to catching up.

Lady Zvezdana Venora

[Yrmellyn Cole]

Vhalar 15-29, 716

On Day 15, Vhalar 716, Yrmellyn Cole recieved the letter from Zvezdana. It was delivered in a secretive way, to her home, by a tense soldier who kept looking over his shoulder even after she had let him in and closed the door. It spoke volumes about the situation. The painter didn’t hesitate to take the decision at once: she would travel to the unknown destination with this stranger as her guide.

She had wanted to get in touch with Zvezdana, and she had been aware of the lady’s fate as far as it was known in public. It was natural to respond to the invitation when it came. This felt even more natural as the lady wrote vaguely about being just a shadow of her past self, and maybe not in physical shape to have a painting made of herself. It made Yrmellyn wonder if Zvezdana was injured or ill, maybe both. Perhaps it was her last and only chance to meet Zvezdana again? For a moment Yrmellyn considered asking the solider for details, but when she looked at the man’s closed and expressionless face she changed her mind. How could she know if this man was privy to the physical state of Zvezdana, or even meant to know anything about it?

Yrmellyn felt she could hardly start to ask him about his name, his military rank in a defeated rebel army, or his actual standing with Zvezdana Venora. With her own background of growing up in the criminality infested part of Rharne, caution was ingrained in her from early age. She was well aware that names and other details could be dangerous to know. It was enough to know that for some reason Zvezdana Venora had trusted this soldier to deliver the message and act as escort.

“Give me a false name to call you by” she said unceremoniously. “You can stay here while I prepare for the journey. I hardly think the neighbors will care, but if somebody asks questions just refer to me and say we met recently at a tavern, and now we’re lovers. I will not keep you waiting in Andaris for a trill more than needed...”

The man had said she could call him Khai.

The content in the sealed letter was for Yrmellyn’s eyes only. She didn’t feel free to share it with anybody, not even somebody who seemed totally loyal with the lady. Yrmellyn would keep the secrets of others, as well as she kept her own secrets. She threw the letter into the fire and watched it burn and crumble, while the flames consigned the content to the ashes, and with it the dangerous name of the fallen false queen.

The journey that followed was a silent affair, on horseback, at the quite slow pace the painter was able to make. In the beginning it was a challenge to just mount the horse and stay in the saddle. As the days passed by, she learnt to master these and other basics of riding, like steering the horse by pulling the reins and nudging the animal with her heels. It was fifteen days of daily practice with the animal, so she learnt to ride not only at walk pace, but also trot, and even canter. The soldier Khai took them on paths outside of the beaten tracks, and they sought shelter for the nights where they could find it, mostly in caverns. No camp fires were made, as it was best to avoid everything that could draw attention. They ate dried food the man had stored in the saddle bags of their two horses. There was no map and no other instruments for navigation. Khai seemed to know the terrain in detail and by heart. Along the journey he told her how to recognize a suitable cave to use as shelter for the night, and how to make sure it wasn't occupied by wild animals. Sometimes when they had to move soundlessly, he taught her how to bind cloth around the hooves of the horse, and how to walk in the forest without breaking twigs or making other sounds that would reveal their presence. She learnt to judge the water of the streams they drank from, and distinguish between good and bad water. The journey was tough, but Yrmellyn endured without complaints.

The wilderness stood huge and silent around them, two small human beings riding through the middle of nowhere.

Vhalar 30, 716

They arrived to Jorick's keep on the thirtieth day of Vhalar, though Yrmellen didn’t know the name of the place. The soldier she called Khai managed the conversation with the guards and they were immediately cleared and allowed to enter. Their tired horses were left in the care of others. Yrmellyn strapped her bag, which contained most of her belongings, to her back. Then she grabbed the easel in her left hand and without speaking she followed Khai to her destination.

They stopped in front of a door where Khai spoke with people again, telling them Yrmellyn was expected. A woman went into the room to speak with Lady Zvezdana. She closed the door behind her. Yrmellyn waited patiently outside, and so did the soldier. They were tired and dirty after the journey, but Khai hadn’t seem to even think of this, and Yrmellen hadn’t objected.

[Zvezdana Venora]

Zvezdana had been sitting in the chair in front of the fire, a goblet in her hand. She swirled the red liquid gently with a soft rotation of her wrist. It has been trials since she sent the letter to Lady Cole and she had not heard a lick back from her. The soldier had not returned and she had begun to fret that Cassander had captured him. What if he was tortured? What if the location of Jorick’s Keep was given up. Had she just sacrificed the last safe location for her remaining forces just to entertain the idea of having a friend?

“Lady Zvezdana?”

“Yes?” There was a sharp tone to Zvezdana’s reply. Clearly she was irritated by her thoughts. She stopped rotating the goblet in her hand. The woman moved forward to report to her.

“Your messenger has returned. Lady Cole is with him. They are here to see you.”

“Mmmm,” Zvezdana purred, pushing herself out of the chair. “Send her in. Bring something in for her to eat.”

The maid nodded her head at the request, moving to the door. She opened it completely, standing aside and beckoning to the travel worn woman. Once the woman entered, the servant girl would leave. The soldier never moved, having served his purpose. He expected to be relieved of duty once Yrmellyn was excused from Zvezdana’s presence. The door clicked shut.

Meanwhile, Zvezdana inspected the woman. They had met many arcs ago. It was hard to imagine that the rebel queen had once been kind enough to come to the aid of a non-noble. What had transpired that evening to make things so different then? What had changed to make Zvezdana hate the world so much now? Zvezdana did her best to seem warm. She had even tried on some of her old clothes that had made it in the move to Jorick’s Keep. She wore the green dress she had been married in, the jewelry decorated with green crystal to compliment the garb. It was probably the brightest thing she had worn in some time, in comparison to the black dress she had become accustomed to wearing. Her hair was still wild, pulled back in loose curls. Her face had dark circled beneath her eyes, and she seemed so much older than Yrmellen probably remembered.

“Lady Cole,” Zvezdana started, making a gesture to a chair. “You must be exhausted from your journey. Please, make yourself comfortable. Might I pour you a drink?” Zvezdana was not permitted to have alcohol and was resigned to have a grape juice or water. Blackwood had seen to it that she was not permitted alcohol for the safety of the baby she carried. Her dress was tighter around her middle, creases pulling at the edges to suggest that it was her belly that swelled. Despite her mourning, the baby remained alive within. She rubbed her belly gently. As she insinuated in her letter, she did not support the physical body of the young maiden as Yrmellen might have remembered her. She was a budding mother-to-be.

[Yrmellyn Cole]

The maid opened the door, gestured to her to step in, and left. When Yrmellyn entered the room, everything she had been thinking of during the long journey to the keep was wiped out of her mind, like a dream fades and disappears when a sleeper wakes up to reality.

Gone were all the optional greetings she had pondered and silently rehearsed because she’d wanted to make a good impression. Gone were the portrait ideas she’d been envisioning. They seemed stupid now. An insight she had for some reason not been open for until right now slammed into Yrmellyn as she took in the sight of the room and the lady.

Zvezdana Venora sat all alone in the room.

The lady was elegant, her green dress decorated with green crystal, glittering as it reflected the light from the fire. In contrast, her hair was simply pulled back in loose curls like she hadn’t cared about it. Dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of hardships and sorrow, and she seemed much older than Yrmellen had remembered her. Yet she was beautiful, in a new and other way.

She was also pregnant. Perhaps the lady’s clothes and the way she sat concealed this a bit, but not by much. When she touched her belly, Yrmellyn knew she was expecting. She had seen many pregnant women in the past and she had seen that typical protective gesture uncountable times; the mother caressing the baby growing inside her, already communicating with it without words.

Yrmellyn’s gaze fell on the heap of empty armor in the corner.

“Lady Cole,” Zvezdana started, making a gesture to a chair. “You must be exhausted from your journey. Please, make yourself comfortable. Might I pour you a drink?”

Such elegant politeness, at a time like this. It would have been appropriate with the normal polite phrases of greeting, as common courtesy demanded. Yrmellyn found herself unable to utter those perfect, proper and empty words though. She would maybe have done it regardless, if she had been taught that kind of well-behaved manners when she grew up, but she hadn’t. She had learnt to playact it and could deliver it when it was needed, yes. She knew what was “the right thing” to say, but it also felt horribly wrong. General politeness had started to feel like little more than shallow lies as the years passed by, and it reminded her unpleasantly about her days as a courtesan, professional at giving others what they desired.

She wanted to say the words that truly felt proper, not just the proper words. Still, her intuition told her that the beautiful green dress meant something. It was perhaps a sign of a wish to keep up pride and dignity and self-esteem despite it all. It seemed to show that the lady wasn still and be the person Zvezdana Venora truly ought to be, not what others now called her. It reminded Yrmellyn of herself. Once upon a time she had been wearing elegant dresses and kept her head high despite a social position that could only be called dubious. She knew everything about this.

“Lady Zvezdana. I’m glad to see you.”

These plain words were neither condolatory nor an attempt at the kind of blind cheerfulness for the sake of it people sometimes try to show. They were maybe not what somebody more knowledgeable in etiquette would have chosen, but they were genuinely true and honest. Yrmellyn sat on the chair she had been offered, and accepted the drink. She didn’t have time to taste it, because the maid returned, carrying a tray with food. Yrmellyn watched her put a pot of tea and a mug on the table, followed by bread, soft white cheese, a small pot of honey, sliced vegetables and dried fruit. It was simple, but it was elegantly arranged.

The maid left the room silently and they were alone again. Zvezdana had watched without saying anything more.

“We’ve come a long way from the old times in Andaris.” Yrmellyn didn’t know if she was meant to start to eat. Maybe the food was meant to be shared. Unsure of how to proceed, she fell back on a strategy that had helped her deal with social situations in the past. She waited for cues to follow. Meanwhile she conversed a bit.

“I will always recall all the good things you did for me back in the days. I so wanted to give you a portrait before I departed, but there was little time and I didn’t want to paint something that didn’t make you justice. I postponed it, thinking I would soon be back. Plans, and how they can alter ... but as you know ... I hope to paint your portrait now.”

Before it is too late. She didn't want to think it, but the though spontaneously made it's way to her awareness.

Yrmellyn finally took a small swig of the drink. She wasn’t surprised when she found that it was fruit juice and not vine. Pregnancy and vine was a bad combination. She had seen the sad evidence of this far too many times in her childhood, in the slum of Rharne. Zvezdana Venora did obviously know better than the kind of people who lived their wretched lives in the Dust Quarter. There was however a certain wildness in the lady’s appearance nowadays though. Maybe this was why Yrmellyn thought of bad old times.

[Zvezdana Venora]

Zvezdana had only vague memories of the woman. She knew her as a peasant, but a skill painter none-the-less. She was not from a brought up family, so etiquette was probably not second nature to her. Zvezdana had really only offered the words in that manner as it was the only way she knew to speak. The mother-to-be did not have close friends. She did not refer to people by their first names because that was something close friends did. Vivian was the closest friend she had, and even sometimes she felt it to be more proper to refer her as Sergeant Warrick. Having already given Yrmellyn her drink, she sat down at the table across from her with her juice. As much as she knew that it was for the baby, she really and desperately wanted the flavor of wine on her tongue.

“Lady Cole, the old times in Andaris are but a figment of my imagination now. My world had been torn asunder since we last saw one another. I'm heavy with child and everything I fought for and believed in was spit on. Your arrival here is dangerous for you. If you are ever thought of by others as a friend to the rebellion, or even as a conspirtor with me, the boy king might have you hanged. Coming here was dangerous, and I hope you realize that I see this gesture as a token of loyalty and friendship.” Zvezdana offered a smile, gesturing to the food. "Shall we eat. Tell me of your journey here and what you have been doing all this time."

Zvezdana doubted that her neglact to address the painting went unnoticed, but she wanted to chew on the idea for a while. It was an innocent gift, one she would welcome if not for her current condition. Several seasons prior, she would have loved the idea of her own beauty being immortalized on canvas. Now, heavy with child, she was not so sure she wanted to be remembered this way. All she wanted was for her life to return to the way it was, for her to be remembered for the woman she had been. It was possible, as so far, Yrmellyn seemed to remember her for who she had been and not for her current transgressions against the crowns.
Three breaks had passed since she originally allowed Yrmellyn into her room. After they shared a meal and caught up on her journey and recent history, Zvezdana had encouraged the travel worn woman to go bathe and settle in. She had even been bold enough to send one of her own personal dressed with her to wear for the evening. Maybe it was a bit much to offer such luxury, but they barely fit her anymore. Zvezdana didn't feel right in them. She had given her the medium, red dress made of taffeta. She considered collecting it later before the painter departed from Jorick's Keep, but then again, she was already with considering it a gift.

She had remained in the green garments, brooding in a chair before the fire in her rooms. While Yrmellyn had gone to get cleaned up, she had brooded over the concept of being painted. Evidence of her life meant something to her. Pictures meant a thousands words. With each passing eye upon her captured beauty, someone would comment about her hair, her flawless skin, her taste in clothing. So many words would be shared about her. Then again, some would look upon her portrait with malice. Considered the 'Fallen False Queen of Rynmere,' Zvezdana knew that people would hiss and spit before her portrait. That was not how she wanted to be remembered.

A knock on the door announced Yrmellyn's return. "Come in. Ah, Yrmellyn. I hope your bath was refreshing. Come sit. I have asked Blackwood to send up a glass of wine for you while I drink this wretched fruit juice." Zvezdana gestured to the wooden chair next to her before the fire, the glass of wine standing on the seat. "I've given it some thought as to whether or not I want you to paint my portrait. I want to first confide with you a few things."

Once the woman was settled, Zvezdana would focus on the flames that were confined by the stone hearth. "You have probably heard a great many things about me now. I married Lord Veljorn Burhand a season or two ago. Time has since blurred. He raised an army and marched against the crown. I stood by him every step of the way not just because I desired to be Queen of Rynmere, but because I loved him. He was taken from me during peaceful negotiations with the boy king by his own niece, Elyna Burhan. I was devastated. I still am." Tears threatened to slip past the rim of her lower eyelid. Gently, Zvezdana blinked them away.

"I hate what Rynmere has become to me. I want to see a great many people burn and hang for what they have done to me. I consider myself a monster for those malicious thoughts. I would not be surprised if you think the same. I have been, and most likely will continue to be chased across Rynmere for my crimes. That is how most people will remember me." Again, Zvezdana paused, chewing her lip nervously.

"I would like you to paint my portrait, but I want you to paint me how you see me."

[Yrmellyn Cole]

When Zvezdana told Yrmellyn that she took the visit as a token of loyalty and friendship, Yrmellyn nodded in confirmation. It was indeed a token of loyalty and friendship, for Zvezdana as she remembered her from the past, though she didn’t feel sure if she felt the same way for Zvezdana today.

She felt compassion. That much was sure. But the magic was constantly ticking in her mind these days, urging her to reach out with her inner vision and question the reality she saw with her own eyes. Albeit she didn’t put in active effort, it wasn’t like magic could be turned off; it was just passive, but she still received vague impressions. Was it her own attunement that had grown stronger and made her experience things clearer? Was Zvezdana just like she had always been, just older, sadder and more hardened by the ordeals she was dealing with ? Or had the lady changed as profoundly as suggested by the faint and nearly indiscernible, unpleasant impressions lurking right beyond the perimeter of Yrmellyn’s field of inner vision?

She didn’t engage in a closer investigation. It wasn’t her way to use attunement on unwitting people, at least not if she didn’t have strong reasons. A conversation with a friend of the old who confided in her and clearly needed support was no reason at all for intruding on the privacy. Yrmellyn told herself the vague alienness she felt was just the normal awkwardness of meeting somebody she hadn’t seen for years. I was natural that it felt different from how it had been once upon a time.

Memories had made her undertake the journey. The past had sent her to this meeting in the present.

There was however also one more aspect: Yrmellyn had made a promise to Vhalar that she would offer Zvezdana the portrait. She didn’t have the slightest idea if the immortal Vhalar even knew about this oath sworn by an unknown pauper painter named Yrmellyn Cole, or if he cared about it, but to her it was important nonetheless.
It was three breaks later. Yrmellyn had bathed. To their next meeting she wore the red dress Zvezdana had given her. Her own clothes were being washed by other people. She wasn’t going to use them again until it was time for her to leave the keep. For a little while she would be looking like lady in a beautiful red dress, her hair put up in an elaborate hairstyle.

They spoke again.

In her painter's imagination Yrmellyn saw them sit together in the room, illuminated by the firelight that framed them. It left the corners of the room dark, except for the light reflections in the metal parts of Veljorn Burhan's empty armor. Zvezdana, pale and black haired in her green dress, was a powerful sight despite her frailness. The pregnancy added to the impression of power, as it made her more than herself; she was now also a creator of a new life, and a carrier of the future. In contrast, Yrmellyn was all red and gold. Perhaps she would one day paint this picture from her memory, she thought briefly to herself. She figured she would need to blur their faces in that case, or paint masks on them, in order to avoid trouble.

“I know what it is to lose the one you love” she said. “If there had been people to hate for the death of my teacher Mariuz Arbin I might have felt like you and hated and wished for revenge. But I can never be sure, never be totally sure. I felt like it would drive me crazy if I allowed myself to suspect something else than just the illness ... it was better to have nothing and nobody to blame except an illness, than spend my life on a chase after elusive shadows, vague as dreams. My home town Rharne is a wonderful city, but I felt it was best for me to leave it for a while. I thought it could be best to recover in another place, free from memories. ”

She paused briefly before she added: “I don't think you are a monster. Fate has been hard on you. It's natural to react. But you’ll have your child to think of. It will give you happiness.”

When Zvezdana told her she wanted the portrait, Yrmellyn was practical enough to suggest a small format, a portrait of a size well suited for keeping in a medallion or perhaps as the inside of the lid of a small box. It would also be what she would have time for, in order to do a good job of in a short time. She agreed that her visit in the keep was dangerous. She didn’t want to worry Zvezdana by saying it aloud, but she wasn’t able to imagine the rebels wouldn’t be hunted down and killed, if they didn’t manage to flee and live in exile. Yrmellyn wasn’t keen on being there when the inevitable would happen ...

“I will paint you a portrait like no other” she said seriously to Zvezdana. “It will be small, but it will be special. It will be like I recall you, and maybe you’ll recall me when you watch it.” She smiled. It occurred to her that she would try to use what she knew about ensorcelling and inscribe the portrait with the memory of friendship of the past, if it was even possible to do this with a portrait.

Vhalar 31-34, 716

During the following days Yrmellyn worked at the portrait of the size Zvezdana had chosen. Sometimes the lady found time and inclination to sit for the painting, and sometimes the painter worked alone, based on memorized details. The picture grew slowly, one small brush stroke at the time. She adjusted it many times, carefully, keen on getting it as right as possible. The challenge was to see beyond Zvezdana as she had become, and paint her as she had been in the past. Yrmellyn put in effort to separate past and present in her mind as she painted. It felt like she summoned the woman that had been, brought her out of the one she now was, and saved her forever on the canvas.

Attunement ticked in the back of her mind as she worked, oddly urging her to get this painting done and be gone. She worked diligently, immersed in the painting, set on keeping her promise to Zvezdana as well as to Vhalar.

It came to the point when she felt it was time to neither add nor change nor take anything away from the picture. It was completed. Yrmellyn felt pleased with her work, and would feel pleased with it regardless of what Zvezdana might think of it. Art was art.

When the color was dry she turned the portrait upside down. On the back of it she painted the equivalent of an ensorcellment inscription, a single simple sign, meant to reinforce the power of memory. If this would really be able to add something extra to the portrait, and what this extra would be, remained to be seen. Time would tell.

At the end of day 34 Yrmellyn gave Zvezdana Venora the portrait, told her about "the inscription" and what it was supposed to bring. She left it to the lady to keep and use the way she found best. In the morning next day she would take off the red dress, don her normal clothes, and begin the journey back to Andaris.

[Zvezdana Venora]

"I am sorry that you know loss like I do. I would not wish that upon anyone," At least, not any of her friends. She might consider to wish it upon her own father or even Cassander, but even that kind of rage was just beyond her grasp. "May the people who have harmed you get what they deserve."

Rharne sounded like a lovely place. Zvezdana put it in the back of her mind as a possible safe haven if it was ever necessary for her to flea Rynmere. Recovering in a foreign place might have been a good option during this time of heightened vigilance against the Qe'Dreki. The woman watched the thought process go on in Yrmellyn's head. She did not miss the glimmer of perseverance in her eyes when she spoke of the small painting she would make.

"I am sure I will not be disappointed. Let me know if you require anything," Zvezdana offered, getting up with Yrmellyn. They did not share physical contact or speak beyond that. The day had been long and pregnancy took its toll. It was time to retire for both of them.
Zvezdana would sit with Yrmellyn as often as she could. Normally it was about midday and in the evenings. When she wasn't with the artist, she was in her rooms considering the future. Yrmellyn had pulled her from the depths of despair and she was actively trying to figure out how to recover her other relationship. Her family would have to wait. She could not make herself known and establishing a connection between Andraska now might have been dangerous for him. Yrmellyn had already taken a great risk coming here to paint this portrait. When she wasn't plotting her return to society or sitting for the portrait, she was sleeping. Pregnancy was proving far more difficult than she had ever imagined.

The portrait had been everything that Yrmellyn promised. Zvezdana looked at the small portait, eyeing the physical difference she saw. She did not have wrinkles and the top portion of her belly was flat. She was not pregnant in this depiction. Every time she looked at it, she was pulled from her dark despair into a feeling of warmth and friendship. It was strange, knowing that the gift was imbued with the arcane arts. Yrmellyn was proving to be full of her own secrets.

"Thank you. Your kindness and your friendship will not be forgotten with this token. If ever we are to meet again, I hope it will be on better terms."
Zvezdana stood at the entrance of the keep, waving to her as she was led down the road to civilization by the same guard that guided her here. She lowered her hand when she was just about to be out of sight. Yoreth Blackwood creeped up behind her, the noise of his armor making his presence clear.

"You think you have friends Lady Venora? Can you really trust her?"

"Silence Blackwood. I was once your queen-"

"And you never will be again. Now, can you trust her."

"Yes."

The response came easier than most. She trusted very few people in this world. That group seemed to be getting smaller with each passing trial. She trusted Vivian, Seira, Serial, Andráska, and Yrmellyn. She might have once considered others, but they seemed to be leaving her and dying quicker than she could make new ones. Zvezdana turned around, refusing to make eye contact with Blackwood, who snickered.

"I hope you are right."

"Syroa curse you Blackwood. You'd make a good slave to her. Friends may be few and far between, but I know one when I see one. Now begone with you."

Zvezdana, suddenly disheartened by Blackwood's words, retired to her chambers to look at the portrait. The warmth, endearment, and consistent reminder of friendship was all that needed to improve her mood and give her hope for the future.

[Yrmellyn Cole]

Epilogue
Andaris, Vhalar 50 Arc 716

The journey back from Jorick's Keep had been similar to the journey there. When Yrmellyn reached Andaris she was tired and dirty. One of the first things she did was to make a fire in the fireplace of the apartment where she lived. Then she borrowed a wooden tub from a neighbor, heated some water over the fire, took of her clothes and washed herself.

The bath was totally void of luxury. The tub wasn't big enough to sit in. She stood in it and used a cup to pour the water onto herself, starting with the hair and working downwards. When she was done the water in the tub was dark and fairly cold. She got rid of it by emptying it trough the window. Somebody was yelling down there on the street, she noticed. Probably a bypasser who hadn't been smart enought to avoid getting soaked. She closed the window.

Yrmellyn sat for a while in front of the fireplace and waited for the warmth of the fire to dry her, naked. She had no towel and she didn't want to use the blanket because she didn't want it to become wet. This was how poverty was. She owned next to nothing. The only thing she had to give this world was her art and herself. This too could sometimes seem like next to nothing, and maybe it was.

She thought of her days in the rebel keep. She wondered ...

Before she washed her clothes she donned the red dress Zvezdana had given her. Here in Yrmellyn's simple abode the dress seemed extremely out of place. It was like a dress from another world, she thought, as she stroked the soft fabric. It was a dress from a world that didn't exist anymore, given to her by a woman who sort of didn't really exist anymore either.

She heated more water. Washed the clothes. Hung them on the chair to dry. She left the dirty water in the tub this time, because she didn't want to get stains on the dress. It was years since she had owned a similar garment. Yrmellyn had sincerely believed she was done with wanting beautiful clothes and other unecessary things people thought they needed, but in Jorick's keep when she had worn this dress she had realized that she was maybe starting to take some degree of pleasure in nice clothes again. For a moment she had considered burning the dress though. She realized it could be dangerous to keep it, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to throw it into the fire.

Time passed. It was dark outside the window. Yrmellyn Cole sat silently in front of the fireplace, wearing the red dress of The Fallen False Queen of Rynmere.

It was hers now, this dress for a queen.

As the painter sat there and watched the fire she allowed her thoughts to wander. It occurred to her that the fire, the red dress and herself, all were elements in an installation of live art. It had significance. She was art. She was the memory of Zvezdana. She was the queen.

[Pegasus]

Yrmellyn

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Detection: Facial expressions give clues to likely behaviour
Detection: Physical signs of tiredness
Etiquette: When unsure, follow cues from others
Fieldcraft: Survival on long journeys
Mount (Horse): Basic mount / dismount
Mount (Horse): Long journeys lead to saddle sores
Mount (Horse): Basic steering techniques
Painting: Capturing essence
Psychology: Clothing can act as psychological armour
Stealth: Moving through woodlands
Tactics: Destroy unnecessary evidence
Writing: Careful composition of a formal letter

Loot:

+1 red dress

Fame:

+7 (good deed, art, gift)

Devotion:

+2 Vhalar (Oath)

Magic:

These points may NOT be used for arcana

Zvezdana

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Detection: Physical signs of change
Discipline: Holding in your emotions
Discipline: Acting for the good of your unborn child
Discipline: Facing an unwanted future with grace
Etiquette: Receiving guests
Etiquette: How to avoid answering the question, politely
Etiquette: Presentation of self is key
Leadership: Maintaining your role in all circumstances
Leadership: Speaking to those you command
Psychology: Sometimes, the smallest flicker of hope is enough
Psychology: Clothing can act as armour
Tactics: Giving enough information, but never too much.
Tactics: The risk vs reward of having a friend or ally

Loot:

+1 painting

Fame:

+3 (good deeds, gift)

Devotion:

NA

Magic:

These points may NOT be used for arcana

Overview:

General comments.
Story Oh, I loved this thread. It was well written and a pleasure to read. You both portrayed your characters excellently, with a lot of internal dialogue, a lot of emotion and a lot of interaction. Threads like this make me so glad to undertake peer reviewing! I very much enjoyed the insight into the two women and hope to see more!
Structure Lovely - no worries.

Please do PM me if you think I've missed anything or you have any questions!