Chapter Text
I stood in the center of the room clutching a sheet to myself tightly, as if it could shield me from what I knew I needed to do. Fitz waited patiently on the other side of the door for my confirmation that he could enter. All he knew is that Lord Golden had requested his presence. He had no idea that I was one tug away from coming completely unraveled.
It started when he reported to me a conversation he had watched between the Narcheska and her uncle. They were discussing a woman who appeared to be giving them orders and the girl had seemed quite distressed. What he said next filled me with cold dread. He had seen a peculiar large, inflamed tattoo of a dragon covering her back. When I heard those words, it felt as if everything had gone very still. Not knowing what else to do, and afraid that I would not be able to conceal my panic, Lord Golden had emerged and dismissed Tom Badgerlock. I couldn’t face Fitz. Not like that.
The Pale Woman was here. Ilistore. And she was controlling the Outisland delegation. The tattoos were both a mark of ownership and a message meant to reach my ears. My heart ached at the fear and pain that shone through Fitz’s description of Ellianias words. Despite her lofty title, the Narcheska was only a girl. Not that it had ever mattered to Ilistore.
I too had been only a girl, albeit not in human years, when she had done the same thing to me, but she had still smirked in satisfaction every time I screamed while she ordered more details needled into my skin. The only thing that mattered to her were the seductive words that Symphe repeated about how she was the White Prophet of our age, sent to guide the world to the correct Path. This Path, of course, was the one that maximized the Fours wealth and power, but they would assure anyone who pointed that out that they were just being rewarded for their good work.
My existence as the true White Prophet of the age had enraged her, and when dragons had begun to appear in my Dreams, alarmed the Four. They wanted a leashed Prophet who they could use to manipulate events in their favor, and Ilistore wanted the glory and prestige that came with her exalted position. To all of them, I was a problem to be dealt with, and the Pale Woman was not one for subtle solutions.
I knew that I couldn’t stay in this room alone and quietly fall apart forever. Eventually I would have to let Fitz open the door and show him how I had been marked. It was critically important that he knew about the threat the Pale Woman posed. If she is here, it means Clerres is paying close attention to these marriage negotiations, and that the fate of the world rests on the outcome.
It wasn’t that I feared Fitz knowing about the stakes of our mission. I had tried to be transparent with him about the meaning of being a Catalyst, so he was already aware. Instead, I was afraid of how much of myself I would be revealing.
Fitz knew more of me than anyone else. When I had arrived in Buckkeep, I tried to keep myself carefully contained, focusing on the mission at hand and not getting compromised by personal relationships, just as I had been taught. I had locked Beloved away and adopted the role that would earn me a place in court and encourage a young bastard prince to trust me. When I finally met the boy who I had traveled across the world to find, this strategy fell apart. Fitz saw right through my Fool mask to the person underneath. He took my title and made it a name, and for the first time in many years, I felt like I mattered to someone.
I thought of the days we spent together with only his wolf, Nighteyes, for company, basking in a sense of peace and comfort. I also forced myself to recall our quarrel and what happened when too much of myself and my feelings were revealed to Fitz. We had made peace since then, with Fitz using my true name for the first time, but I had been careful not to be too vulnerable. Showing him this would require that I bare myself in a way I rarely did, and had not dared since he had thrown my love back in my face.
A small part of me hoped that perhaps he would surprise me. Maybe he would see the child who desperately sought love that she would never be given, who was raised as a tool and had grown to see himself as one too. I was scared of breaking open, but at the same time I longed to. I wanted to come apart completely and know that someone would be there to put me back together afterward. Although I was no longer a fool by profession, it seemed as if I was always bound to be one by nature.
I took a breath. It was time to drop all masks. Even the Fool, who Fitz continued to bring out of me years after I had retired him, could not be part of this. Here and now, in this room, we had to be Fitzchivalry and Beloved. I was ready.