Stay in the box. [...] No. Stay in the bo- Stay-
[And that's when Sigmund realizes the journal already started recording while he was distracted.]
Sokka
I need workspace in the smithy. Stay out of my way. I won't be in yours.
Simon
Come to the smithy later. I need to fit you for something.
Katara
We will speak tonight. After dark, past the southern edge of town. If you are willing.
[Sigmund will not be home today until quite late, so the chances of catching him are slim. But everyone will find a neatly handwritten note slipped under their door, to the effect of "I made you something. It is in the kitchen. Your name is on the jars." And, as the notes said, there are three little pyramids of six squatty little jars each on the kitchen table. And in those jars... is pie. Portable pie. Sigmund-cooked portable pie. For Capell and Katie, apple. For Edward, venison and mutton.
...Pie.]
[And that's when Sigmund realizes the journal already started recording while he was distracted.]
Sokka
I need workspace in the smithy. Stay out of my way. I won't be in yours.
Simon
Come to the smithy later. I need to fit you for something.
Katara
We will speak tonight. After dark, past the southern edge of town. If you are willing.
[Sigmund will not be home today until quite late, so the chances of catching him are slim. But everyone will find a neatly handwritten note slipped under their door, to the effect of "I made you something. It is in the kitchen. Your name is on the jars." And, as the notes said, there are three little pyramids of six squatty little jars each on the kitchen table. And in those jars... is pie. Portable pie. Sigmund-cooked portable pie. For Capell and Katie, apple. For Edward, venison and mutton.
...Pie.]


Comments
The one had nothing to do with the other. I told you that I would keep Katie safe. Did I lie?
[He looks up to check his sunstone, and then hugs Dog a little closer, giving him a scratch behind the ear.] Ask your questions.
...that counts for something.
And that's why she doesn't bother verifying what she already knows to be true. Instead she goes straight to the heart of it.]
Why did you lie to me about being Capell's father? It's obvious how much he means to you.
So much for it just being a matter of them taking Sigmund earlier in his timeline or something.]
So explain it.
I explained much of it the day we first met. Capell is the prince of Casandra.
But he'd told her the story of Cassandra, the water kingdom. Told her how its prince had been born unblessed, and set adrift to die on the water as its barbaric law commanded. Told her that the queen had died from grief, that the king had abandoned his people, left the country to war and ruin.]
Standing in front of her is a man who as good as murdered his own son, and abandoned his people.]
That was you?
That was my wife, and my child. And the world would have been better off had I not loved them as I did.
And he dares to tell her he had done all this in the name of love.]
You had a funny way of showing it.
[Dog whines, and Sigmund runs a hand over his head to soothe him... and to soothe himself. He hates this. Not only is it a violation of his privacy, it's a violation for the sake of someone that he fears - if not instinctually dreads - won't even try to understand.]
It was not a simple matter.
...but she had seen how he had treated Capell when they were malynapped, seen his care for him all through their time in Luceti - even when he was a penguin. And she'd seen the obvious affection that Capell had for Sigmund as well.
That spoke loudly enough in his favor that she was willing - for now - to stay and hear him out.]
I'm listening.
[He closes his eyes for a moment, and takes the time to collect his thoughts. Maybe it's just the light, or maybe it's the turn of the conversation, but something about this moment makes him look suddenly, incredibly old. There is no physical change, but his expression looks more suited for a tired old man than the teenage boy he appears to be.]
The nobility of my world are chosen by Veros. Only an Aristo may take the throne. To go against the laws of Veros would forfeit my right to rule. My choice was between a people who had depended on me for many years, and one child. How could I say a nation was worth less than one child, even my own?
[And you abandoned your people anyway.
But she doesn't say that - not yet. And she doesn't turn to leave, despite how sick this conversation is making her feel.
How could he?
It was like staring at Zuko's father.]
[That outburst makes Dog whimper, and Sigmund pauses briefly to attempt to collect himself... and doesn't. How dare she act so superior to him? She knew nothing. Capell lived the life of an unblessed. Capell understood.
When next he speaks, there is a slight waver in his voice, as though he's barely keeping himself together.]
What choices? What choices do you believe I had?
She should just walk away.
But then he asks a question that deserves an answer.]
The same choice anyone has when they're faced with something that's wrong - to fight it. [She knows what that can cost - your life, the lives of your families. She's seen it in her travels, from earthbenders taken prisoner to a father gone over to work for the Fire Nation for the sake of his son, to what she heard of Zuko joining them. It can cost everything. And she believes with everything in her that it's worth it.]
Which obviously you did - somehow, in some way. Or else Capell wouldn't love you like he does.
[You just should have done it sooner.]
Edited 2010-12-29 08:00 pm (UTC)
You've a father, Katara. If he had to choose a nation, all with families of their own, over the chance that you may die... would you find it so easy to think him a monster?
My father already made that choice, and you don't have any right to bring him into this. At least he made sure that there was someone there to take care of me first. What are you trying to say, that I'm wrong? That Capell's love and trust in you is completely misplaced? I've seen how you take care of him - I am trying to give you a chance here, Sigmund, but you are making it very hard. Do you want to tell me what happened or not?
[Or do you want me to dismiss you as the monster that you - clearly - were.]
Edited 2010-12-29 11:38 pm (UTC)
[The tone is calm and quietly commanding, but in a different way to the way he usually speaks. There is a sense of great experience in his words, and of great age and weariness; and also a sense that the wavering of some moments ago is becoming a great turmoil covered over by the most superficial serenity.]
You are eager to judge something you do not understand - will not try to understand - and that should never have concerned you. You will give my - No - You will give Capell's pain the consideration it deserves, or I will tell you nothing. I did not give what I did for a girl to congratulate herself on condemning me when he would not.
Do you think I enjoy this? [She shakes her head slowly, gaze earnest and direct, but there's a certain dignity that falls over her - one of grief, and betrayal. She'd never want to see this happen to anybody. What he had done - was terrible. It went against everything that she knew to be right and good and it was a testimony to how different she'd seen Sigmund be that she didn't step forward to rectify that in his immediate pain.
She'd been betrayed before - too many times. Had the person that she trusted turn out to be something evil, someone intent on using her for harm. And she had trusted him.
She wanted to understand. But he didn't give her reasons. He hid behind things, used words like 'love' and 'responsibility' to justify murder and abandonment. Was 'listening' as he wanted letting that go without protest? If that was the case she should walk away.
But there was where he was wrong.]
After all this time, you really don't know me at all. I have never lied to you. I told you I would listen.
You started this. You called me out, asked me to speak with you, and I am still here. So finish it.
Sigmund knows that the only way he's going to get through this is to charge ahead and sweep her along. She's quick to make accusations, invent options that he did not really have. He has no trouble believing that she would gladly see Capell as a naive fool, and imagine that he gleefully sent his son to his death, if only it would make the question easy for her. It was not an easy question. Everything that happened was terrible, that much was undeniable. But some things that were terrible were not wrong, and it became hard to say that any choice was wrong when no choice was right.
So he decides to plow ahead, and get out as much of this story as he can before he needs to stop again. He will need to stop again, to collect himself, to breathe. This is hell he's putting himself through, and for what? Her sense of self-righteousness? ...For Capell. So that she dare not consider him stupid or simple. So that she dare not question him, if Sigmund would not answer. So that she dare not drag up his pain, when his father's would do. For Capell.]
Understand things as they were, not as you wish them to be. The world will not be gentle because you believe it should be so.
Though Casandra was strong, she was small. A disagreement over my bride ended in three nations at war, and heresy was a still heavier charge. I could not kill more sons so that I might keep my own. I gave the order. I sent my most trusted knight. I bid him to be merciful.
She never forgave me. She fell ill with nothing, and wasted away.
Still, my people wanted more of me. I became full of hate. I had lived too long. I had nothing left to give.
I left in secret. I fled to Halgita, to a woman I once called my friend. I had done her great wrong in the past, but I begged her to grant me one last favor. I asked her to remove my lunaglyph. She gave one condition - that I return to Casandra. I agreed. I thought they may kill me. I did not care.
The rite did not go as planned.
There's a lot in what he says that she does not understand. There had been a war because of who he'd chosen to marry? She's not sure how she feels about that. And heresy? That's right, he'd mentioned something about a god...
And then he ran away. He did what he did to preserve his people, and when he could not live with the consequences of his choice, he ran.
And she can't help remember - a cave, a storm.
"I ran away."
...and so she continues to listen.]
Edited 2011-01-02 02:00 am (UTC)