Time moves differently when you're in love; as though it's in a constant state of flux. Time apart spans for what seems like decades, time together comes and goes in short breaths. The hours are no longer measured by minutes, but by heartbeats – faster with every touch, kiss, and declaration of love. Hours spent beneath sheets, pressed together in the throes of passion, or simply lingering in the warmth emanating from each other. Heartbeats record every verbal and visual exchange, document every stolen glance, and every I love you. Days easily turn into months, months into years, and for those who are lucky, years turn into the rest of your life. The first time Misty's eyes fell upon Cordelia Foxx, time stood still.
Misty knew, just by the sight of her, that this woman, arm extended in what seemed like an odd welcome, would provide her with everything she had been searching for. Safety, and acceptance. She could feel it in the stagnant air around them, in the softness of her palm, the sweetness of her voice. And it was a relief, to be seen, and to be saved, not only from the danger of the witch hunter hot on her tail, but from the swelling loneliness that sometimes not even the lilting voice of her wonderful Stevie could drown out. This…Miss Cordelia, had been her saviour.
If you had asked her then, what that stillness had meant, the swamp witch would have attributed it to something like relief. The realisation that her troubles would be dealt with, that she was safe, protected. However, if you were to ask Misty now, she would tell you that it was her soul meeting its counterpart in another – in Cordelia.
As time began to pass, the pair spent more and more time together. Working in the greenhouse, teaching each other elements from their own worlds. As the hours grew, so did the adoration, the affection, the…love? Really it shouldn't have come as a surprise to the young witch. There was an electricity that passed between the pair of them when together. An electricity so fervent that it drew them closer. It was an electricity that Misty failed to believe existed, yet alone that it could exist between herself and another person. But there it was, a spark that ignited every time Cordelia laughed, or smiled, or merely looked in her direction. It was there, too, when they spoke, when they touched. A gravitational pull dragging Misty closer, consuming her in the lightness that was the Headmistress.
Often she wondered if the older woman felt the same way, if she too could feel the sparks, the tug; the longing, the want, the sheer need. It was overwhelming, this feeling, and bearing it alone. The night before the Seven Wonders were to take place, the young witch decided that something needed to be done. But it was Cordelia who surprised her.
"If there's one thing you do tomorrow," the Headmistress had begun, her voice soft, laden with concern, "Survive." She moved closer, taking Misty's hands in her own, glazed, sightless eyes searching for a face she could not see, "survive for me. Survive for…this," closing the distance, Cordelia pressed her lips to Misty's, kissing her chastely, sweetly.
It was once the Seven Wonders were complete, and Cordelia ascended into Supremacy, that things began to pick up. If the two were inseparable before, then now they must joined at the hip. Where one went, the other followed. Everyone knew, that to find one, you need only find the other. The two began sharing a room, sharing a bed; holding each other as they slept, watching the early morning light flicker over pale skin, illuminating golden locks.
Their days together bleed into weeks, into months, and finally, a year. What was to be a long engagement, turned into a spring wedding – a proper hand-fasting on the banks of the swamp, surrounded by their handmade family, and the academy. Together they kissed and danced the night away, no longer Miss Goode and Miss Day, but as Mrs and Mrs; as one.
Though they discussed the possibility of children, they didn't have any. The girls of Robichaux's were their children, and lord knew there was enough of them. The pair watched them grow, not only into their talents, but into remarkable young women. They let them into their home, their hearts, and the girls rewarded them in kind. Visiting after graduation, wedding invitations, naming them godparents to the child that eventually, found themselves within their home, and learning as their mothers had done.
Eventually the remaining years began to wear thin. A new supreme was on the rise, and Cordelia could feel it.
Just as she had done every day they had been together, Misty brought Cordelia her afternoon cup of tea. Peppermint, just how she liked it. Sitting it on the bedside table, she looked over her wife. Just like her mother, Cordelia's hair had not gone grey with age. If it weren't for the wrinkles that lined her face and hands, you'd be fooled for thinking that she was still in her thirty's. And in Misty's mind, she still was – still was that enigmatic, enthusiastic witch who saved her, took her into her home, and her heart, and taught her, not just about magic, but about love, about life. In her mind, Cordelia wasn't this sick, frail being – she never had been, and, if Misty had anything to do with it, she wouldn't let her be now either.
Cordelia, with a small cough, turned to Misty and smiled. It was weak, but still so full of love. Returning the smile, Misty pulled back the covers, and climbed into bed with her, opening her arms and pulling her close. There was another soft cough, and Misty could feel how it shook Delia.
"My angel," Delia smiled, bringing her arm around Misty's waist, pulling her closer.
They stayed like that, just lying in each other's arms, feeling each other's presence and revelling in it, for what felt like eternity. It was nice, this time together, though it was under less than pleasing circumstances. It had been years since they could just luxuriate, just simply be, together. Finally, Mist broke the silence.
"I'm scared," her voice was so soft she wasn't sure that Delia even heard it. She waited for a response, a reassuring squeeze, a nuzzle at the neck, before continuing, "What am I going to do without you, Delia?"
"You're going to continue to be the strongest person I know," a weak hand weaved into Misty's hair, stroking gently, "you're going to take the new, young supreme under your wing, and teach her how to be great."
"But what if I can't?" Misty's voice wavered, grip tightening.
"You can, I believe in you, Misty Day, the swamp witch who was burnt at the stake, and brought herself back to life."
Misty shook her head, and responded, "I ain't no Supreme."
Raising herself, Cordelia sealed Misty's lips with her own, kissing her into submission, "You're my Supreme."
Thanks for reading, this is my first fic so I hope it was okay.
I'm also considering expanding this into a larger fic that focuses on all the key moments of their relationship.
Let me know what you think and if you'd be interested.