This is a little one-shot I wrote after finishing Paladin and Necromancer. It's set during Kass's teenage years and explores his relationship with his absent mother. TW: Descriptions of depression and anxiety I hope you enjoy it!
Kass’s mother came to visit on the second Tuesday of autumn. The day had already been shit, and it was in no way improved by her presence.
Old Noll was drowning in torrential rain. It had been enough to flood the tavern cellar. Kass and his uncle had spent the last few days carrying out the water by the bucket. The Burning Mage stunk of rotting wood, courtesy of the army of old ale caskets downstairs. Kass’ back felt like it might never recover from all the heavy lifting. But there was no use complaining. Life would never be any different. He’d forever be fixing the holes in his father’s stupid dream.
When he and Elijah lifted out another few buckets of water, Maria suddenly sat in a tavern booth. She must have entered through the door they’d left ajar. But to Kass, it felt like she had grown out of the furniture.
Kass didn’t remember if his mother had ever spent much time in the tavern. By the time The Burning Mage was finished, many of her days were reserved for her noble paramour, and by the time they would have needed her help with serving food and drink to the patrons, she moved out.
She looked oddly comfortable in the plush red sofa near the window, her slim figure drowning in colourful throw pillows. The rain slammed against the glass, and she watched the empty street outside, her eyes never moving towards Kass and Elijah as they approached.
“Maria,” Elijah grunted quietly. Maria turned around. She looked just like Kass remembered her. It pissed him off. Her skin was soft, her hair long, and her eyes bright yet downturned. His own hands were covered in cuts and callouses. The fight with Duncan and Ellie from next door would leave a scar, too. But they’d had it coming.
“Hello,” Maria said. Her voice was quiet and musical. People had always struggled to hear her, and sometimes Kass had played translator. Less so when he got older and shyness overtook his desire to help.
Kass stared at her. He remembered her hand in his when they walked through Old Noll’s food markets, clutching her long, thin fingers when he grew terrified of the crowds. She always squeezed back, and he felt they were sharing a secret anxious language.
She left for days without explanation, and his father would be in a rage, screaming at Kass that so he would no longer be angry when his wife returned.
During long evenings around Midwinter, she lit all the candles in the house and read him stories.
She wouldn’t leave the bedroom, and wails and cries seeped out from underneath her door. His father would sit with her for hours, but none of his sweet words could drag her out of the flood.
She brought home a dog for him, a small, long-eared thing. His father made him give it away because they couldn’t afford it.
She left and told him she’d come back for him.
Looking at her made him furious. Most of all because he couldn’t find the words to voice his pain. He still couldn’t hurt her as much as she hurt him.
“Been a long time,” Elijah grunted and put down the buckets. The water seeped over the top, creating a small puddle on the taproom floor.
“Hmm,” Maria said. She looked at Kass, not his uncle. People always ignored Elijah. They were uncomfortable talking to the pasty, long-limbed man who spoke only when he had to. Who had given up his dream of becoming a painter to take over a tavern. Who paid the bills and made sure Kass went to school even when nobody else cared. Elijah cared. That made Kass care, at least a little.
Kass met her stare as his stomach started growling. “What do you want?” he pressed out, not wanting his uncle to carry the whole conversation. Maria blinked, thrown by his gruff tone.
“I was hoping to see you,” she replied, quiet as ever. Kass noted that her fingers were full of rings, gold and silver intermixing. It was impossible to tell if she was wearing a new wedding ring.
“Here I am,” Kass said, trying to bite down the bile in his mouth. He had been here since the day she left. She could have come to see him any time.
Maria looked at Elijah with a pleading look in her eyes. Go away, it said. Elijah bent down to pick up the buckets, but Kass stepped closer to his uncle.
“We’re pretty busy, as you can see,” he said. Maria blinked.
“Do you want help?” she asked, then rose. “If you have any spare buckets, I can –”
“No,” Kass replied.
Maria hesitated for a moment, then sat back down. “I could pay someone to do this,” she offered.
“Oh, fuck off,” Kass muttered, earning him a glare from his uncle. Elijah shook his head. “We’re nearly done,” he said, then sighed. “I’ll get you a drink, Mar. The usual?”
Maria nodded and gestured for Kass to sit down opposite her. “Just for a few minutes,” she promised.
Kass sat down. Force of habit was hard to break, and for a long time, he had loved his mother more than the sun. Until his father died, and a new form of absence made him reconsider why he got attached to things.
“Will you be angry if I ask you how you’ve been?” Maria asked. She played with the rings on her hand, sliding them around on her skin until they left red marks.
“Probably,” Kass responded. He looked out of the window, not meeting her eyes. He felt like a petulant child, but the alternatives were worse. He didn’t want to scream at her and regret it later. There had been too much of that already. And a treacherous part didn’t want her to leave.
“Very well. I’ll spare you,” his mother conceded. Kass remembered that she had always conceded easily. Things had gone his father’s way for as long as he had been alive. This tavern had all been his idea, too. His mother had been given little jobs, like picking out curtains and selecting the colour of the sofas. Nothing meaningful.
“What has your life looked like since I left?” she asked. She had always talked like that. Slightly too formal, somewhat whimsical, like her life was being narrated by an ephemeral voice.
“What do you think it’s looked like?” Kass asked. Maria didn’t take the bait. “I don’t know,” she said, “That’s why I’m asking.”
Kass swallowed some of the responses that jumped on his tongue. He gestured around the tavern.
“This is what it looks like,” he said.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Maria looked at him, and he couldn’t tell if she was disappointed. “There has to be more to your life than looking after your father’s tavern,” she replied.
Kass glared at her. How dare she come here after all this time and lecture him on how to live his life? “I’ve become dad. That’s all there is to it.”
“You have not become your father,” she said gently. “You could never –”
Kass interrupted her. “What’s so wrong about becoming like dad? He took care of us well enough. He built this. It’s shit, but it’s something.”
“Kass.” Her voice was still so quiet. It pissed him off.
“No. What’s so bad about making something rather than flittering about, being a burden to everyone, and –” He interrupted himself when he saw the hurt on his mother’s face. He could hurt her, but only a little at a time. Perhaps more would come with practice.
“You know why I left, don’t you?” she asked after an endless few seconds. Kass felt his stomach clench. It was like he was given a test, but nobody had bothered telling him the answers.
“I was a child,” Kass said slowly, “Children don’t know shit.”
Maria stared at him. “I thought you knew. I thought you somehow always knew how I was feeling. How desperate the urge was to –”
She didn’t continue, and Kass didn’t ask. He remembers the wailing from her room, the desperate, senseless screams. He wondered if it stopped now that she was elsewhere. Or if these thoughts had followed her into every room, every bed, into every life she tried to build.
She reached out and took hold of his hands. Caught in the metal of her rings, her skin felt cold against his own.
“I know, Kassander. I know I’ve always asked too much of you. I thought you could feel how sad I was, that you’d understand –”
“I could feel it,” Kass said, unable to keep his voice from rising. Elijah, who had been pouring his mother’s drink at the bar, stared at him. “I could always feel it. Sometimes, there wasn’t anything but your sadness. No answer at the door, no sight of you, no –. It was like you stopped existing. I never knew if you’d be back.”
He took a deep breath. “It was terrifying. It’s still terrifying. Because people do disappear, and then they’re gone forever. And I don’t know –”
He wanted to look anywhere except for her face, but every part of the tavern reminded him of his father. Who had built this place with his own two hands, losing two of his fingers in the process. Who had died after they argued, after Kass had told him he’d rather go and live with his mum.
He didn’t know where to look.
“I think that’s enough now.” Elijah’s voice was slow as ever. He placed Maria’s wine in front of her and gestured at it. “Enjoy. And then I want you out of here. Kass has lived through enough of your bullshit. He doesn’t need you to come back and burden him further.”
“I’m not trying to burden him,” Maria said. Her eyes were swimming with tears. “I want to have a relationship with him. I never meant to just leave and not stay in touch. But after I left, things got so hard, and I just couldn’t –”
“And now you can?” Elijah asked. “Now you can raise your son without disappearing for days, leaving him terrified that you’re dead in a ditch somewhere?” He lowered his voice. “Are you sure you’re not kidding yourself?”
Kass stared at his uncle. He had never seen Elijah so cold.
Maria hesitated. “I don’t know. I know that’s not good enough. But I wanted to see him again.” She turned to look at Kass. “I wanted to see you again. Did you want to see me too?”
Kass didn’t know what to say. Of course, he had wanted to see his mother again. Sometimes to shout at her, sometimes to take her hand and let her lead him away from all this. Sometimes, he didn’t know what he wanted. But the feeling was always there. An impossibly strong, primordial longing for the person he loved more than anything else. His second soul, whose every feeling was his own.
But what was the point in saying all this? She couldn’t help her sadness, and he couldn’t help his fear. And now her sadness would always make him fearful, and his fear would compound her guilt. He understood it implicitly, even if he couldn’t put it into words.
“I’m sorry, mum,” he said.
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