Private message to Narcissa

[alt_antonin]

You've seen Ptolemy writing to me, no doubt, but he wasn't able to tell me much -- just that He cursed you you'd been injured and that Fletcher had seen to you.

What do you need, milaya? If it is within my power to do it, I will.

Comments

[alt_antonin]

It sounds as though you caught Him in one of His moods. And as though you were very lucky it was a private audience, indeed. He is always more vicious when He is trying to make an example for others

At least it was not worse; He could have killed you and made me be the one to

Everything I try to say turns out wrong. I'm at a loss for how to respond, darling, really I am. Other than to say that you aren't alone. I know that is not the way in which you meant it, and that the love of friends and family pales in comparison to the love of husband and child that you have lost, but those of us who love you will not let that change, no matter what. It does not matter what He has done or what He might decree or inflicted upon you: you are my own chosen sister for this life and the lives beyond, and nothing will change that. Nothing.

Is there anything I can get you? Send you? Do for you? This is intolerable and I am sick of sitting here helpless in my castle while people I love get hurt and hurt

[alt_narcissa]

Oh, Toshenka. No, that is not how I meant it. I know I've support. I can never be - be seen, now. He's made sure of that. At least, Healer Fletcher is fairly convinced there's nothing to be done to reverse the - scarring.

One does feel a horrid whinger even mentioning it, when it could have been worse. We were all so terribly sorry for Bettina, after all. And I have no interest in being the object of others' pity, thank you.

Still, there's no going back, only forward. It's just as well my public life is all but gone.

[alt_antonin]

If anyone says anything catty to or about you, I will simply eviscerate them slowly and present you with their entrails. Or perhaps their skin, for the house-elves to tan and stitch into a cloak. It shouldn't take more than three or four such instances before the message gets across.

Though I know that's not what you mean.

I know that my opinion will not change your mind -- I can imagine you rolling your eyes at me and huffing 'men!' in that tone of yours -- but however bad the scarring might be, I cannot imagine any way in which it would make you less beautiful. Perfection is not the only sort of beauty that exists in the world: there is beauty in surviving adversity, and scars are proof of having survived. Yours has never been the beauty of the delicate hothouse flower that wilts at the slightest hardship. Yours is the beauty of steel and determination, of confidence and competence -- the grace of a well-tempered sword -- and nothing can blemish that. Anyone who thinks otherwise is someone whose opinion is not worth heeding.

I am certain Fletcher has done his utmost, but if you'd like me to come and take a look, I can see if it is a spell I recognise and can help at all with the treatment. And although my library is somewhat short on the topic, I will look up cosmetic charms -- there must be something that will help cover it.

[alt_narcissa]

Spoken like a man. No, dearest, that is not - precisely - an insult. You all wear your scars as badges of honour, obtained in glorious combat. Or something like that.

No doubt on the rare occasion which calls for intimacy, your scars have even served to pique the interest of your partner.

We women are not so privileged.

But thank you, dear Dedushka, for the attempt. I am sure that once the initial wounds have healed, some cosmetic correction will be possible. It just won't be the same

[alt_antonin]

I'm sorry, milaya; I know I am a poor confidant for matters such as these. I may not understand, but I care because you care: I did not for the world mean to imply that you are wrong to be upset. It's only that I feel so helpless; all I can offer you are words, and they always fail me at the critical moments.

And I can't help but mourn the fact that this is what the coin of all our sacrifice and suffering has bought us. I am beginning to think it was a poor bargain indeed.

I love you. And I am praying for your swift healing.