Mother cried when she lost the baby. She cried, and cried, and cried, until there was nothing left but her emotions. She cried til no more tears sprang forth and then she cried some more; soundless, wordless, tearless sobs that wracked her soul and shattered her heart beyond repair. She cried til she could do nothing more but sleep.
Mother cried when Varania was praised by the Master. She cried tears of pride, tears of joy, tears of fear. She cried because she was proud of her daughter, proud that she had gained His favor. She cried because it was a most joyous day, one with shining sun and dancing winds and her beautiful Varania's sweet smile. She cried because she was afraid, for her daughter and her safety, for the red haired girl's sweet innocence. She cried because she did not know how to feel.
Mother cried when they took the child from her. She cried because she had not seen her son or daughter before they entered into the cruel world. She cried because it had been her Master's order. She cried because she did not want to displease Him, and He did not want an illegitimate whelpling running about. And so she cried as the mage mended the wound in her womb, cried as she was treated, cried for the little blessed babe who was now forever in the Maker's arms.
Mother cried when Varania came into her powers. She cried over a flurry and surge of emotions. Her precious daughter was a mage, a mage! She cried because she was so happy that even an elf like Varania might have a future. She cried because she did not know if that would mean good or bad, and she feared only the worst.
Mother cried when the Master's son beat her. She cried because she feared for her children, cried with guilt for bringing them into such a cruel world. She cried because he was merciful and spared her life. She cried because she had heard her Master deem the young Tevinter mage whatever privilege he wished.
Mother did not cry when the Master's son took Leto away. Her eyes were dry and her pockets full, and she did not speak a word. But even so, the girl understood, watching as she spotted that braid of ebony hair for the last time. Varania cried that day.
Mother did not cry.