vencikye answers the hum with one of her own, smiling as her aunt’s cheek comes to rest against the top of her head. she reaches for satine’s hand and tangles their fingers together. afterwards she listens in silence, noticing the way her aunt won’t look her in the eye as she answers and feeling the guilt rolling off of her like waves, like a storm in the desert. her hand slips out from satine’s and she fidgets with it instead, rhythmically tapping a finger against her knee. she does let her aunt keep leaning against her, but it takes all of her self-control to do so and to keep from interrupting her.
finally satine finishes, and suddenly vencikye cannot sit still a second longer. she barely listened to that last part — she couldn’t — and anyway it doesn’t seem to matter, not when her aunt is so obvious. vencikye withdraws from the warmth of their closeness and swings her legs off of the bed, looking back as she does so. her eyes are wet and pained, but it’s a pain that cuts at the onlooker: the blue in them is the blue of broken glass. more than hurt, vencikye is angered.
“ you don’t have to lie to me, you know, ” she says, quietly but imperiously, lifting her chin a little even though it quivers. “ you could’ve just said you needed an heir. i could’ve taken it. it’s just … unfortunate, that we were born twins. isn’t it, aunt satine? ” she says the word ‘aunt’ like it’s a curse, then stands up and throws her hair back, pacing in front of the bed. “ everyone else calls you our mother. i would have, if you’d ever let me. remembering my parents this, honoring them that … i was a baby. i don’t remember them, and you can’t replace people i don’t even remember! i’m sick and tired of your excuses, aunt satine! i’ve listened to them in silence for years, and i’ve had it! ” vencikye slams her hand down, making the plant pots jump. she stops pacing and glares at satine.
“ you couldn’t even look at me while you said all this! while you said you wanted children! i’m not stupid and i’m not blind either, i can tell you feel guilty! ” vencikye isn’t sure when her voice rose to a scream, and is a little startled to find herself yelling at all. she goes on more quietly, although still furiously. “ if you didn’t want me, you could have taken just korkie and put me up for adoption, for someone who did want me. thanks a lot for not separating me from my twin, though. it’s been lovely, growing up knowing you didn’t want me! ” the sarcasm is biting, but it’s not enough to armor herself against the pain. she reaches to wipe at her eyes brusquely, swallowing the tears. dropping her hands, she balls them into fists, nails digging into her flesh. “ you can say you didn’t want me. i already know anyway, but i want to hear it from you. go on, say it. say it, damn you! ”
she notes her restlessness as she speaks, but it is still startling, how suddenly vencikye pulls away from her — a ghost of her warmth lingering against her side, even as her words cut through satine like ice. the venomous look is a blade to her heart, a reopening of a long aching wound. she reaches after vencikye, her outstretched hand falling to rest on soft sheets as she paces away.
“ lie to you? ” her voice is strained, a note of fear creeping in even as she fights to mask it. surely, she cannot know. she is almost caught up in the panic, but what her child says next is somehow worse, than a revelation of the truth.
“ an heir was the last thing on my mind. ” the words are quiet, forced past the lump in her throat, yet fierce. “ it is fortunate that you were both born safe, and well, considering the state that i was in. ” she does not even realize her slip, is overcome by the tidal wave of vencikye's words, her fury. i would have, if you'd let me. oh, how that hurts. how she has longed for nothing more than to properly claim her children. but this has never been about her desires. “ it has always been too dangerous, for you to be called my children. that is no excuse. ”
“ that is not true, and i will never say it. ” she does not flinch at the outburst, caught in the storm of vencikye's blue eyes, the volume of her voice. before she knows it she is standing, the azure silk of her robe swirling about her frame as she rounds on vencikye — out of desperation, rather than anger. “ vencikye! you have always been wanted, from the moment i knew of you! you are mine, in every way that matters, and i could not have borne giving you to another. if you will not believe me, then believe this ; i did not name you, or your brother, lightly. ”