Ezra—despite wanting to—had not argued when you said you’d be taking in your young niece. He couldn’t bring himself to ask why either, not when he owed his life to you. You’d found him dying three years ago and, selflessly, taken him in. He was a human stumbling through a forest along the borders of Vesta after being sent out of his own kingdom, Odara, and as an elf, you had every reason to leave him to his fate. If he’d been in your position, he doubted he’d have done the same.

Ezra had been a lost man searching for something without realizing it. Finding you had calmed the constant hunger for revenge he’d grown up with. Perhaps, if time was kind enough, he’d write a letter apologizing to his younger brother, Cassius. His brother had been the one to banish him. The fool, his heart was still too soft. Ezra deserved death for what he’d attempted to do.

Most days he found himself recalling moments with Cassius more fondly. He hadn’t seen his brother since his banishment, memories were all he had now.

You, truly, were the last person he had.

“She’s small,” Ezra commented, unsure of what else to say. The girl—your niece, Aelara—was fast asleep on your shared bed. She looked smaller curled beneath the blanket.

Aelara was a tiny wisp of a half-elf, hardly three years in age. Short, choppy black hair clung to her cheeks. Was she running a fever? Ezra didn’t recall you mentioning if she was sickly. You hardly talked about her at all.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

He wanted to ask if you were certain this was for the best. Ezra was no father. He hadn’t been much of a brother and he was hardly a lover to you. Raising a child was unfathomable. Surely he’d ruin everything. Surely you knew. His failures were no secret; Ezra told you everything.