[ She nods, measured and the once for that understanding. Her shoulders straight and spine stiff. An easiness in her gaze that isn't - here - she's never here. She isn't here, she isn't on Barrayar or in Whitechapel, Blackwall Yard. She's in the Rani Mahal, she's in a back room of a brothel in the slums watching things unfold and making choices. ] I did not sleep for months, before. I was hours in prayer, day after day, nights in deep meditation and then I finally did, deeply, and when I woke up? There was no other path to take, lest I fail in every duty that I had ever been tasked with.

[ There would be blood, and as she hovered on the choice of war, her father took her hand as her women, her men, her courtiers, her poor and her hungry and her desperate and lost, looked at her and they too - wanted to fight. Anything, anything was better than living, day after day, waiting to be prey. ]

When I give my life and I am remembered for what I have done. [ She will die, she will be remembered, it's not arrogance, she has been given that surety, by Satya, by Natasha. These things are sunrises, rising in certainty. ] That, I think, will be a good end for my loneliness.

[ She does not know how to take comfort, in this life, but nor has she let herself be bothered by it. Nor does she say it for pity. It will be quiet, her too long life will come to a rest, and the world will settle and she'll finally see her son again.

And she will finally, finally be at her own end. ]