Roll Away Your Stone

Pain was evident in her sapphire stare as she studied her daughter, noting just how much she had changed since she had seen her last. There was no denying that she, too, had changed, but Amalia was a woman now -- so different from the child she remembered seeing last. The silence would linger as memories of her sweet child came back to her, flooding her senses and rendering her temporarily stunned. Only when Amalia let out a whine did she snap back to reality, ears flattening against her skull at her daughter's obvious distress. Her body would relax as Amalia once again leaned forward to embrace her, nuzzling gently under her chin, and she would pull the girl into a tighter embrace. She had longed for her daughter's presence so long and her touch was comforting, despite everything.

And yet Amalia could not help but ask, having recognized her  mother's obvious dislike of the family at the mere mention of their surname. A sigh would escape her lips as she pulled away slightly. It wasn't a topic that she had wanted to broach, and yet it seemed unavoidable now despite her intentions. There was so much Amalia didn't know -- that she would never understand, no matter how much Epiphron tried to explain to her, for she had been taken in by an Armada and would forever look upon her savior fondly. Slowly she would recline to her haunches, casting her gaze away for a moment and staring into the distance.

"The Armadas stole everything from me -- almost everything." Maverick had stolen her heart, and he had broken it in turn; he had shattered nearly two years of trust they had build together, and she didn't know if he could ever fix things -- if he dared return. "They waged war on our family in Valhalla when you disappeared," she explained. How long had she been with the Armadas in the North, she wondered? She couldn't imagine Amalia staying with those wolves if she had known... "They took wolves captive. They raped my niece, and forced her to bear their children." Her eyes watered, pain obvious in her gaze. Rarely did she show such weakness to anyone, but her children were an exception. "Their king killed my brother -- your uncle." How much did Amalia know, if anything? Epiphron felt her lip quivering slightly. "And their queen blinded your aunt Chrysanthe." What else they had done, she could not recall, for suddenly her vision was hazy with emotion that she contained for so long.

"I am sorry, Amalia," she would say finally, inhaling sharply as though to not cry. They had taken Syrinx's life from him, and for that she would never forgive them. Her only blood brother, how much she had loved him despite all his sins. "If they ever hurt you, I swear to you I will not rest until they pay," she would warn her sharply. Epiphron was not a woman of violence, and would not ever be. But there was no denying she would fight tooth and claw to defend and to avenge her children if there were ever so much as harmed. "But if you are happy there..." she would say finally, watching Amalia carefully. "Then I can only wish you the best." It would pain her, but there was nothing else she could do but to honor her daughter's wishes.