U - Coming Home, please :)
(Hakona and her mom, not long after POE 1.)
She finds Nandhir in the botanical gardens, gazing at its greenery in the same wide-eyed way that Akhala has been given to since they arrived. But where Akhala is full of the joyous curiosity of youth, Nandhir is wistful, stirring only belatedly at Hakona’s approach.
Hakona is trying earnestly to better her diplomatic skills, if only because she has little choice now, but she comes to a stop before her mother and says, in Ordhjóma, “I know you aren’t happy here.”
“Oh, Hakona,” Nandhir says, tearing her eyes away from a cluster of small red flowers. “I am happy. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, and this keep is lovely.”
She always speaks so cautiously, so politely. Hakona wishes that she’d come out and say it already, so Hakona does it for her. “You wish you were back in the Land,” she says, and the words sting. She’s never been able to understand why Nandhir had clung to the place for so long. What had it ever offered them, except struggle and pain?
“I don’t wish that,” Nandhir says, with her endless patience, and it’s only lately that Hakona has begun to dwell on how much she tested that patience while growing up. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but... even if it was so rarely kind to us, it’s a part of me. My roots are there. They always will be, no matter where I go.”
Hakona goes to answer and stops. She thinks of revelations under the moonlight of Eir Glanfath, tasting an echo of a bomb’s ashes on her tongue and a fire that followed. Tasting the bitter knowledge that betrayal comes even for the most faithful, if convenient. And yet...
She nods instead, silent, and Nandhir’s eyes widen. For a moment, her mother stares at her, unreadable, and then a smile softens her face.
“I’d still rather be here with you,” Nandhir says. “After everything you told me... becoming a Watcher!” She shakes her head. “And you were right. Akhala needed the change. She’s happier here.” Something determined crosses her face. “I won’t see the Land stifle my daughters anymore.”
Nandhir stiffens when Hakona surges forth to hug her. It’s a quick thing, that hardly leaves time for her mother to react, a breath spent only to say a quiet, “Thank you,” before Hakona pulls away.
Astonishment doesn't stop Nandhir from reaching out regardless, to rest a hand against Hakona’s arm. Her fingers are practiced at avoiding the little rivulets of flame within stone skin. She hasn't forgotten, and Hakona thinks that perhaps some good has come out of this Watcher mess after all.