AN: A little one shot about Claire's marriage to Skye. He always seemed like too much of a lady's man to ever really settle down.
Sometime she wished she had given her blue feather to someone else. It had been so late that night. She'd been drunk on the moon light, blinded by his reflection in the pond. His sweet words seemed to hold so much.
Now his clothes held the sickly smell of perfume. Sometimes it was toy flower, sometimes it was pinkcat, sometimes it was simply the lingering scent of wine.
The hardest nights were the ones when her sheets matched the smells on him. Or the times she found her pictures facedown.
Every day she cursed herself for thinking she could tame him. That she could be enough. But he was a thief and her heart wasn't the only one he had stolen. He was just as wild and charming as when she met him.
She thought about divorcing him every time he wrapped his arms around her. She thought about divorcing him every time she looked at their child.
But Skye's eyes still seemed helpless. Like he might want to change. His lips still spewed magic. Magic about needing her, about forever, about his past and their future.
So every morning she rolled out of bed pretending he had spent the night with her and made breakfast.