Roen trembled at hearing those words. He was releasing her from any blame for his death. Her knees felt weak and her vision blurred as tears began to well in her eyes. Only now had she realized how long she had ached to hear those words, and yet how much she had refused to even consider forgiveness. The weight of guilt that was always there pressing upon her soul was like a constant invisible vise, and now that it threatened to fall away, she felt like she would fall apart in its absence. But even as a part of her wanted to accept his absolution, another wanted to refuse it with all her might.
She did not want forgiveness. Would that make the void in her heart that his absence had left behind eventually fade away? She longed for it and rejected at the same time. She did not want to admit that the pain reminded her why she loved him. It was because of his laughter, those rare glimpses of peace and genuine warmth, and those precious fleeting moments of closeness that his death hurt her so. In allowing his forgiveness, she was allowing to forgive herself, and that frightened her most of all. She feared that she would forget why her regret was so profound. For all the goodness that he hid within him, what if no one else remembered him? Or remembered him for only his anger and want of vengeance? Would that not be the most grievous wrong she would do against him?
Yet she also yearned for mending of her own heart.
Once more her head lowered, her expression pained as she felt the pull from both sides. Could she forgive herself? Could she let go of her need to save others? The paladin found herself shaking her head, no. If she could not save anyone, if she could not do all she could to help those in need, than what was her purpose?
But that was not what he was telling her to do. He was telling her to surrender the guilt in losing those that she tried to save.
Roen still wanted to protest. She wanted to jab her finger against his chest and make him confess that he too wanted to save the people of Ul’dah. That he accepted the responsibility for their salvation, that he took it upon himself to dedicate all that was his life to that purpose. Would he have been so willing to accept the consequences of his failure?
Only, that anger quickly evaporated when she was reminded of where his obsessions led him.
Now she just found herself staring at the figure of a man she would have given anything to see again a year ago. How many moons did she lament all the words of resentment in Aleport? How many nights has she wished that they had said something else? Anything else?
“What is a measure of a life’s worth?†The paladin let out a long sigh, her tone turning wistful. “You asked me that long ago. Have you found the answer?â€
She did not want forgiveness. Would that make the void in her heart that his absence had left behind eventually fade away? She longed for it and rejected at the same time. She did not want to admit that the pain reminded her why she loved him. It was because of his laughter, those rare glimpses of peace and genuine warmth, and those precious fleeting moments of closeness that his death hurt her so. In allowing his forgiveness, she was allowing to forgive herself, and that frightened her most of all. She feared that she would forget why her regret was so profound. For all the goodness that he hid within him, what if no one else remembered him? Or remembered him for only his anger and want of vengeance? Would that not be the most grievous wrong she would do against him?
Yet she also yearned for mending of her own heart.
Once more her head lowered, her expression pained as she felt the pull from both sides. Could she forgive herself? Could she let go of her need to save others? The paladin found herself shaking her head, no. If she could not save anyone, if she could not do all she could to help those in need, than what was her purpose?
But that was not what he was telling her to do. He was telling her to surrender the guilt in losing those that she tried to save.
Roen still wanted to protest. She wanted to jab her finger against his chest and make him confess that he too wanted to save the people of Ul’dah. That he accepted the responsibility for their salvation, that he took it upon himself to dedicate all that was his life to that purpose. Would he have been so willing to accept the consequences of his failure?
Only, that anger quickly evaporated when she was reminded of where his obsessions led him.
Now she just found herself staring at the figure of a man she would have given anything to see again a year ago. How many moons did she lament all the words of resentment in Aleport? How many nights has she wished that they had said something else? Anything else?
“What is a measure of a life’s worth?†The paladin let out a long sigh, her tone turning wistful. “You asked me that long ago. Have you found the answer?â€
