Responses and Invitations

[For context, follow Xar's excellent branch, The HH]

Lilith straightened to her full height and stretched, fingers interlaced, arms reached far over her head. The motion was more than reflex, but less than a choice—she didn’t experience fatigue in the same way as she once had, but after holding a pose while on display for long enough, the need to change things up eventually became unbearable.

That the movement caused her substantial breasts to strain against the thin silk of her dress was not a coincidence. She held the pose long enough to ensure the audience—what of it had chosen to watch this quiet corner adjacent to her season, at least—got a good eyeful, then relaxed.

It wouldn’t do to let them forget what they were watching, but neither did she want them to focus on that aspect of her too heavily. And besides—J was moving on to the last five letters.

Dear J.,

I want to begin by telling you that I read your letter first in English, and then again I asked Arabella for a copy in Dutch, and then a third time in French, because I wanted to be certain I had not misunderstood anything. My English is good but shame has a way of making you doubt your translation, and I did not want to carry away the wrong meaning.

I did not misunderstand. You said what I thought you said.

I have been thinking about the word survival for several weeks. In Dutch we say overleven — to live over, to live through. I have always understood survival as something you do in spite of what it costs you, and I think I believed for a long time that the cost itself was proof that something shameful had occurred. Your letter suggested a different ing, and I find I am still working through what that means for the ledger I have been keeping.

What I have found here is that Andy does not keep that ledger the way I expected him to. I have been waiting since the beginning for the moment when the weight of what I did would show in his face. It has not come. Your letter helped me understand why — not because he is naive, but because he is, as you said, equipped to recognize what survival looks like. He has done his own version of it. We do not discuss this often. We do not need to.

The Broken Bread is wrapped in cloth in my bag and I have not used it yet. I want to tell you why, because I think the reason is relevant.

I am afraid of what I will see. Not of how the others see me — I have some sense of that, and on my best days I believe it. What frightens me is seeing how I see myself, reflected back through their eyes. I have spent a long time with a version of myself that I am in the process of replacing, and I worry about the gap between who they see and who I still sometimes am at three in the morning.

I will use it. I think when I do it will be one of those moments that divides time into before and after. I am simply waiting until I am ready to receive what it offers.

Thank you for the letter. Thank you for the word survival.

With great warmth,

Liesa Claes

P.S. I showed Sam this letter before I sent it. She read it very quietly, which for Sam is the equivalent of crying. Then she said "you're going to use the bread soon, aren't you." I told her yes. She said good, squeezed my hand, and did not make a joke. I thought you should know.

J’s silence as he processed Liesa’s response radiated a sense of sadness that reached far beyond the personal tragedies of any one individual and into the systems which allowed them to exist in the first place. When He responded, though, the gentle patience with which the words reverberated made Lilith grit her teeth.

Ledgers are a human invention, Liesa, and I hope one day you are able to set yours aside entirely. Few do, however, even when the only ones for whom costs are tolled are themselves.

To you, I grant a blessing of Grace. That which you exude is already a blessing unto others, but it is My hope that with time you will recognize and grant it to yourself as well.

At this point, J seemed to be on something of a roll—a fact for which Lilith was grateful. It meant He required less of her, and after this long in His presence even the absence of attention was a relief.

Dear J.,

I have spent my career helping people identify the difference between what they believe and what they have been taught to believe. It is, in my experience, one of the harder distinctions to make clearly, because the teaching happens early and the beliefs feel original by the time anyone thinks to examine them.

I say this because your letter required me to apply that same examination to myself, which is always more uncomfortable than applying it to others. You were right that it was not revelation. It was something closer to being handed a mirror at a specific angle — the image was familiar, but the perspective was new enough to be useful.

I have been, for most of my adult life, very good at the tightrope. Good enough that I sometimes forgot I was walking one. The HH has made that forgetting impossible in ways I did not anticipate and have mostly found valuable, if occasionally undignified. I am learning that undignified is not the same as diminished, which is a distinction I understood theoretically long before I understood it in practice.

What I want to tell you, plainly, is that I am trying. I am trying to want things without immediately auditing the want for professional impropriety or social liability. I am trying to be in rooms without managing them. I am trying to let people see me uncertain, which is harder than it sounds for someone whose usefulness has always depended on projecting the opposite.

I want to say one more thing, because your letter earned honesty and I find I want to offer it.

I came here expecting to be useful. I expected to observe, , maintain appropriate boundaries, and leave having helped without having been changed. That plan failed completely, and I am grateful that it did. The family I have found here is not one I could have designed for myself, because I would not have known to include half of what makes it work. That is, I think, the nature of families.

Thank you for the reassurance. And for the Crown. And for the particular kindness of telling someone they are already on the right path before they have fully believed it themselves.

Warmly,

Marissa Holt, PhD

J took only an instant to read Marissa’s letter, and the impression he radiated when he finished was somewhere between leaning back in satisfaction and cracking his knuckles to get to work.

Marissa Holt, you are already well on your way to embodying the ideals I most long to see spread. To that end, I offer you a simple blessing, but one I think you will be well suited to wield. Assurance can be a dangerous thing when carried in excess, but the wisdom and judgment you have displayed make Me believe you can avoid its pitfalls while navigating your way to its better ends.

The next letter fluttered up as it took its place in the center of J’s attention, then seemed almost to quaver as His focus landed on it. With something that might have been the quirk of an eyebrow, the shivering of the paper stopped, and Lilith had to quash a surge of sympathy for the inanimate object which threatened to emerge.

Dear J.,

I'll keep this brief, because I suspect you're not someone who needs things explained at length.

You were right about Andy. I want to say that clearly and without qualification, because I spent a long time being wrong about it and I've found that acknowledging a miscalculation directly is more useful than burying it in caveats. He is not what I expected. He is considerably more.

The observation about the seed was the part of your letter I've returned to most. I understood the mechanics of my transformation well enough, but framing it as something I planted rather than something that was done to me recontextualizes the dynamic in a way I find both more accurate and more useful. I appreciate precision in advice. Yours was precise.

Thank you for the letter. Thank you for the Mirror. Thank you for the word tenacity, used without irony, which is rarer than it should be.

Norah Rahman

P.S. I've been running with Dawn in the mornings. I include this not because it's relevant to anything you said, but because it is the clearest evidence I can offer that I am taking your advice. She is relentlessly optimistic and occasionally exhausting and I look forward to it every day.

Miss Rahman, I feel almost as though you need no blessings. Time and time again, you have proven that to you, an obstacle is merely the incentive you require to demonstrate that your worth is already greater than that which is asked of you.

To that end, rather than enhance what is already present, I hope you will accept the blessing of Peace. The majority of your time may never be spent in relaxation, so you deserve to get the most out of the time that you have.

The majority of the letters had lain themselves into a neat stack by that point, leaving only a few to withstand the brunt of the Producer’s attention.

Dear J.,

I want to start by saying that I read your letter three times in a row when it arrived, which I don't usually do with things. I'm more of a once-through person. But something about it made me feel like I needed to go back and check that I'd actually read what I thought I read, and then go back again just because it felt good to read it.

You knew about the service thing. I don't know why that surprised me — I guess I expected advice about the harem, about Andy, about the transformation. I didn't expect someone to look straight at the part of me I'd been carrying longest and say there is no shame in that, and also, the other half.

I've been thinking about the other half for a while now. I think I knew it was there. I just didn't know I was allowed to tend to it as much as everything else. I told Andy I wanted to marry him. I said it out loud, to his face, in the Chapel, and then again in the Banquet Hall. That's the most purely selfish thing I've done in longer than I can , and it felt like setting something down that I'd been carrying so long I'd forgotten it had weight.

The Sandals are my favorite thing I own right now, which is saying something because I didn't used to be a shoes person. They fit like they were made for me, which I suppose is the point. I haven't used the heel-click yet. I keep thinking about who I'd use it for and the honest answer is that I'd use it for any of them, which means I'm waiting for the moment when one of them needs me to get there fast and I'll know it when it comes.

Thank you for seeing both halves. That's harder than it sounds and you made it look easy.

With love,

Dawn Moreno

P.S. Norah and I have been running together in the mornings. She told me to tell you she included this in her letter too, as evidence. I'm including it because it makes me happy, which I'm practicing treating as a sufficient reason.

You are well named, Miss Moreno. It is a rare individual who carries the the morning sun as readily as you, and your efforts to bring that light into the lives of others is a worthy pursuit.

To you, I grant the blessing of Ease. I know that you are more than equal to the challenges that you will face, so I give this gift not in the hope that it makes your life easier but with the knowledge that of all people, you are well equipped to bask in the joy it brings to those around you.

When the Producer lifted something akin to a hand to stroke something like a finger along the edge of the final letter, the warmth that radiated out from the action was enough to force Lilith to flee. She managed to catch herself before the flinch that resulted grew too intense, straightening her posture and returning to attention swiftly.

She knew that J noticed, of course—He noticed everything—but since she pretended not to be overly affected, He pretended that He hadn’t watched it happen on a level more intimate than her own most private thoughts.

He was obnoxiously full of grace, that way.

Dear J.,

Thank you for the letter. I've been trying to figure out how to start this reply for longer than I'd like to it, which probably tells you something about me that your letter already knew.

The buried edge image has stayed with me. I think I'd spent so long telling myself that my particular variety of hard wasn't hard enough to count — that other people had it worse, that my scars were small, that I had no right to the space that grief takes up — that reading it described so precisely by someone else was a little bit like being handed something I'd left in a lost and found years ago. I recognized it immediately. I just hadn't expected anyone else to.

I'm working on the boundaries. That's probably the most honest thing I can tell you. I know what they are, more clearly than I used to, and I'm getting better at saying them out loud instead of just hoping the people around me will intuit them and save me the discomfort of having to ask. Riley helps with this, in the way that Riley helps with most things — by having absolutely no patience for the version of me that makes herself small and saying so directly, which is terrifying and necessary in equal measure.

The Coat arrived and I put it on immediately. It does feel heavier than it looks, and I mean that as a compliment — there's something about the weight of it that feels like being steadied. I haven't pulled the thread yet. I've thought about it. I think I've been waiting until I'm sure I have something worth insisting on, which I realize is probably exactly the kind of thinking the Coat is meant to help me move past. I'm working on that too.

I want to tell you something that feels important. I'm going to have a baby. I don't know if you knew that when you wrote to me. The letter feels like maybe you did, because the advice about taking up space and establishing yourself lands differently when you're thinking about teaching someone else how to do the same thing. I want to be the kind of mother who knows where her edges are. I'm practicing.

Thank you for the letter. Thank you for the Coat. Thank you for the word worthy, which you used like it was simply true.

With warmth,

Chloe Ramsey

The warmth that suffused the room was inescapable enough that Lilith found herself leaning away on instinct. Worse, it was touched with exactly the kind of smugness that all but defined the Producer as he allowed himself to revel in the letter for a few moments before responding.

Chloe, you are simply a delight. Your children, and those of your sisters, will do well with you as a mother. To help with that, I believe the blessing of Presence is most appropriate for you. Though you have struggled with it in the past, you have also found it within yourself to summon it on your own at times already.

Perhaps now, you will find that to be easier.

Lily allowed herself to sag just slightly.

That had been the last of the letters, and she should now—finally—be able to get back to what she was doing on her own season. She just needed to—

Four more letters appeared.

These were different. Lily recognized Arabella’s hand in each, even the ones she had not penned herself. A scowl touched her face, then vanished as she carefully smoothed it away and turned her attention to her Producer. “Sir?”

Invitations. See that they’re handed out. I believe this will be a good opportunity for Kevin to spread his wings a little. Some of his cast, too, though I’ll leave it to you to determine the best fit to attend.

“Of course.” Lily nodded, not bothering to object at the meddling.

There wasn’t any point, and she knew it.

The letters slid smoothly into the space in front of her, and Lily took the time to actually read them.

The first—an invitation to Kevin to the bachelor party of Arabella’s final season’s Master.

That was fine. Nothing she couldn’t for.

The second—a similar invitation to an event for several of the women in attendance.

Again, fine. Helpful, even—the new ideas they encountered there were likely to help put some things in perspective for those she chose to attend.

The third—an invitation to the wedding itself.

The final letter saw Lilith’s teeth grinding together.

She read it to the end, stopped, glanced at J, then looked back to the letter and read it once more. It took several long moments for her to gather herself enough to speak in a polite tone. “May I decline?”

It will be good for you.

“That wasn’t a no.” Despite her comment, Lily knew that—for all intents and purposes—it actually had been. J wasn’t one to give orders, but once he’d decided that something was going to happen, there was no getting around it.

I need you to deliver everything I’ve assembled for them. The Verant should be expecting you, so I do not anticipate any challenges in transport. Give Me a few moments to finish up. There are a few more who weren’t available yet when I reached out to Arabella last time.

Lily nodded once and resumed her position, standing at attention like the set dressing she might as well have been.

Riley Bennett. The losses you have experienced have been substantial, but you have persevered. To you, I offer the blessing of Growth. You have already begun to walk its path, as your family, your love, your life expands. May it do so until your heart is full.

Myra Calder. The path you have walked has not been easy. It pleases Me to see you find your way once more. To you, I offer the blessing of Purpose, that your conviction in your own should not fade.

Emily Allen. Lost child of a broken time. You deserve better than to be forgotten, and so to you I offer the blessing of Cohesion, that the joy you have found should not be broken.

Laura Ashford. Substantial are the blessings you already bear, so to you I will offer only Discernment—though I do not expect you will carry it with you always. May you find it ready at hand when it is required.

And, of course, for the wedding itself, perhaps something slightly grander.

The Blessing of Perpetual Rebirth.

Forever is a long time. In the course of eternity, an immortal will accrue enough scars to eclipse the being beneath, even if their body remains fresh and whole to outside eyes. The blessing of rebirth offers an escape from that fate through reincarnation, though that does not always promise that the escape will be without loss.

Perpetual Rebirth goes one step beyond, and offers an improvement that allows the blessed to maintain their continuity as they keep as much or as little of themselves as they require to recover from any injury of the body, mind, heart, or spirit, as long as the soul is free to move on.

“Sanctimonious, smug, patronizing bastard!”

Outside, alone, finally free of J’s presence, Lilith collapsed to the floor in a heap.

It was always a challenge to spend a substantial amount of time with a Producer, let alone one of the old ones, but J—

In Lily’s mind, J was the worst. Not because he was evil. He wasn’t. Not because he was heartless, or cruel, or wanton, or thoughtless, but simply because he literally could not fathom the possibility that what he thought best for someone might be anything but.

She drew Arabella’s invitation out of the shadows which surrounded her, read it once more time, then crumpled it into a ball in her hands.

Exhausted by her time in J’s presence, crushed beneath a sea of emotions she was ill prepared to process, Lilith wept.