Praise Satan, after years of not writing, I'm back from the dead.
English is not my first language and it's the first story I'm writing in it. Don't be cruel, but feel free to give any advice. I haven't even really checked the spelling because I'm lazy.
So that happened after binge watching Sabrina on Netflix 3 times, falling in love with Zelda, and listening to Fleetwood Mac too much in between.
Enjoy, and don't take it too seriously. It's a fan fiction.
For the past sixteen years, Zelda Spellman never stopped once to ask herself what she was missing in life. Since Sabrina arrived, it's been easy to figure everything out. Being an aunt, raise the child so she could go through her Dark Baptism, everything was planned, and there was no time for distractions, no time for feeling lonely. Her role, and Hilda's never had to be discussed. She knew she would never be the motherly, tender figure, nor actually the paternal one, but she had tried her best to show some kind of love while being the disciplinarian. She actually only took care of Sabrina when she began to show some signs of magic. She knew her niece would be a great witch, the jewel in the Spellman dynasty. And she knew she could help with that. Herself being one of the brightest and most talented which in the Coven, it was only logical, even if it meant putting herself aside.
But today, Zelda sats at the breakfast table, with a half smoked cigarette in hand, her coffee turning cold, and an unread newspaper in front of her. She still can't understand what happened those last few days, how she could have acted the way she swore, all those years ago, she would never again.
Hilda was at the store, Sabrina at the Academy, and she could only hear Ambrose's music coming softly from the attic, and sometimes, if you were attentive enough, a clear laughter.
It happened again, the laughing, joined this time by Ambrose's.
Zelda crashes the cigarette in the coffee cup and rises.
She brushes her navy dress to remove any pleat, runs her fingers through her perfect curls and grabs her sunglasses.
Leaving the house, slamming the door in a very unladylike manner, with no real idea on where to go.
Zelda, for the first time in a while, wanders around, more lost than she seems to be.
In the attic, they played Fleetwood Mac. Quite cliché.
Even more so when the woman actually there is called Rhiannon.
« Come one Ambrose, play it again. » she says from her spot on the unmade bed, a pillow between her arms.
« It's gonna be the hundredth times doll, how much someone can love earring their name being sung ? » jokes Ambrose
« Don't be bitter old man. »
« Girl, you're probably older than me, for a reason I don't understand. You look like you're not even 25. What are you ? Some children blood drinker ? »
« Haha funny, but no. I am just prettier than you.»
On that remark, she gets up and goes to the window, in a very overly dramatic fashion.
« I guess at some point I will have to tell y'all my story. I'm not even quite sure if I can remember it well but, I mean, I owe you that at least. »
« You don't owe us anything doll, but it could be nice indeed. Story time moment in the living room. I hope it will be a bit juicy, just to see the Aunts' faces. » laughs Ambrose, soon joined by Rhiannon.
Ambrose puts the song once again, without really knowing how much Rhiannon can relate to those lyrics.
He notices that she gets a bit melancholic when she goes back on the bed, and while he thinks he knows why, the girl's next question confirms it.
« Do you think I made Zelda hate me ? »
« Zelda ? I don't think so. I don't even think she can hate anyone, she just ignores people she doesn't like. Very snobbish. » he answers lightly, before adding, with a more serious face « Except of course if you did something really bad against our family. »
Ambrose suddenly remembers how cold his aunt has turned those last days toward the girl, and everyone, and raises an eyebrow in suspicion.
« I wouldn't do anything like that, you all gave me a house and a family to stay with. I just, I might have crossed some boundaries with her and I don't know what I should do, if you know what I mean. »
« Well, the thing with Zelda is that while she seems really scary, she's quite emotional. If you hurt her feelings, she won't probably forgive you for the next century. Will you tell me if I ask what happened ? »
« I wish, but I think Zelda won't approve of me divulging her secrets around the house… especially this one » mumbles Rhiannon while looking at the ceiling.
Ambrose comes and sits on the bed near her, and puts a hand on the girl's cheek. He's quite surprised to find it slightly wet of tears.
« I do think the best is to speak with her about it, if I can't help you. From what I've seen she probably more than likes you.»
The song stopped playing a long time ago.
Rhiannon rises and smiles, then, after kissing Ambrose on the forehead, leaves the room. Her head is full of thoughts about Zelda. Never in her life she felt that way for an other human being, witch or not. She can picture every details of the woman's face, and the way her hair sways around, and the motion of her hips, how her fingers hold a cigarette, or a cup, the sharpness of her scapulas, the small of her back.
She goes down the stairs without fully giving any attention, but tries to listen to a potential noise that would tell her Zelda's whereabouts. Nothing.
She sighs. Magic it is then. She closes her eyes, murmurs some words and she can see.
Zelda finally stops near the river, it's autumn, the water runs strongly, covered with brownish leaves. Unconsciously she puts her hand on her neck, and shivers from the cold touch. She should at least have taken gloves. She lights a cigarette, and stares at the water. Zelda would never say of herself that she's of romantic nature, though at that instant, she does feel a pang near her heart, and almost wishes she wouldn't be alone here. As if Satan heard, some leaves crack behind her. She drags on her cigarette but doesn't look back.
« Zelda ? »
« I don't want you here, Rhiannon. »
Rhiannon stops, a few meters from her, and mutters a small « I know », before walking again. She hands a scarf in front of the woman.
« You're gonna catch a cold if you stay like that. »
« I'm a witch, I do think I'm far more resistant than that, so thank you but no, thank you. Now, if you could go away, I have things to do. » Zelda spits, without looking at her once.
« Please Zelda, I just want to speak with you. »
Zelda turns and points a finger at Rhiannon's chest. You can see in her eyes some kind of rage, and the sky gets cloudier.
« There's nothing to talk about, because nothing, you hear me, nothing happened. I don't know why you are here. »
« I told you I just want to speak, I used a spell to… »
« I meant why you are here, in Greendale, in our house. Don't you have any other place where you could go and mess with everyone's life ? »
Rhiannon flinches at the sudden outburst, but doesn't go. She grabs Zelda's hand and pulls, forcing the witch to look at her.
« That's just bullshit Zelda, you know it and I told you, I'm here to help. I don't want to cause you any harm. »
« Well you did a great job so far, haven't you ? » answers Zelda, full of sarcasm and hurt.
She lets go of the older woman's hand, and she can feels tears tickling her green eyes.
« Do you really want me to leave ? »
« Yes. »
And she finally does.
Few minutes pass, Zelda crumbles on the forest ground, and she grabs the burgundy scarf that lays there, and holds it to her face. It faintly smells of Rhiannon's perfume. She remembers how the girl's hair and neck smelled when she was laying in her arms, two days ago. She feels weak, and hopes, sincerely hopes, that the girl is definitely gone.