Author's Note 1: Hello readers! So sorry it's taken me so long to post something new, but college and life in general has been crazy the past 2 YEARS! Wow. I can't promise I'll be back regularly (I'm finishing a BA degree) but this scene demanded to be written tonight and I had to share. I hope it was worth the wait and hopefully will be posting more soon!
The compound was quiet. Klaus out for yet another session with Camille while Elijah…well, Freya wasn't entirely sure. It was rare that he stepped foot onto the property anymore unless she called or the full moon was near. Thus, the witch found herself curled up in a rocking chair in Hope's nursery. The youngest Mikaelson fully living up to one of her many monikers as a troublemaker; finally asleep after a valiant, but ultimately unsuccessful fight to remain awake.
Apart from a warm breeze ruffling the curtains, the only sounds to be heard were Hope's long even breaths and the soft squeak of said rocking chair as Freya pushed off with a foot. Though silly, she was almost too afraid of stopping the action -even as she felt the leg tucked beneath her go numb- for fear that the slightest change would awaken the girl. It was in moments like this, alone, a room bathed in the soft light of candles that Freya's mind would drift to the past and to what could have been. A different time, a different life where instead of her niece, whom she had come to love and adore, the baby in the crib was another…the boy she had lost.
Always the vision was the same. He was never much older than Hope was now. A head of golden hair wispy and light, with the slightest beginnings of curl at the end, much like Matthias's had been. Like Hope, he would be happy. Always a toothless grin to be given and a sparkle to his eyes. Freya never quite sure whose they more resembled, her bright blue or his father's mossy green. In her mind, she could hear him calling out for her, moving straight from crawling to running without ever missing a beat. The sound of his laughter: innocent, infectious and high as his father tossed him into the air; knowing he would always be safe and loved.
Her boy, her precious Micah.
Taking a shaky breath, Freya shook herself from vision. Not surprised to feel fresh moisture on her cheeks and quickly wiped it way. Glancing at Hope -who was still thankfully sound asleep- Freya gave a soft watery smile and whispered to his ghost.
"…You were my light."
Author's Note 2: So...what did you think? Let me know! :)