The Wish I Wish Tonight
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Summary: Adam/Adora. Adora watches her son and reflects upon her previous choices.
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I named him Adam.
It wasn't a hard decision. From the moment those tiny blue eyes blinked at me from the mid-wife's arms, I knew that I had to name him after the man to whom he bore such a strong resemblance. Though it might be my own features that stare back at me from my son's face. His father was my twin, and our mother always swore we looked so much alike.
My mother. Of all the people I have been forced to leave behind in order to be Adam's mother, I think I miss her the most. . . other than my twin, of course. I remember being a child in The Fright Zone and wanting to know my mother so much. I remember trying to imagine what she looked like, what she smelled like, what she sounded like. . . and if she had ever wanted me. That's why I knew from the moment The Sorceress told me I was pregnant, that I was prepared to give up everything to ensure that my son wouldn't have to wonder the same thing about his mother.
Instead, he wonders about his father. Yet, despite the longing Adam has for his father, he seems happy. It is far more than I can say about myself.
I knew this would happen. I knew it the day I asked The Sorceress to wipe any memory of me from all of Eternia exactly the kind of loneliness that I was bringing upon myself.
But I didn't know how painful keeping my memories would be. I didn't realize how the longing for my twin only grew when word came of his betrothal. I couldn't have predicted the hysteria that overtook me when the Queen of Eternia gave birth to a baby girl.
It's not quite a twin for my son, but it is eerily familiar. Only in Adam's case, it was I who made the fateful decision instead of the Horde.
There are days when my son is toiling in the pasture beside our home that I consider telling him the truth of his parentage. He is a Prince, after all, and though his extra strength has enabled him to bear no pain from his labors, a Prince should not be shoveling manure.
I want to tell him, though he never explicitly asks about his father. I want to tell him merely because the burden of the secret is so great.
But then I remember the look on my brother's face the day I made my decision and recall the price we both have paid for the secret The Horde enforced upon us and The Sorceress revealed to us. It's then that I hope my son never asks about his father.
Some secrets are simply meant to be kept.