Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time, I only own Lavender, which is it. (For now)
Warnings: NOT JUST FOR THIS CHAPTER! : Child Abuse, non conceptual sex (mentions, not really detailed), nudity, gore, and Language. JUST FOR THIS CHAPTER: Language
Spoilers for some episodes, but I do not know which, so If you didn't watch some, you better. If I do know a specific episode, I will be sure to tell you.
Authors Note: Awake by Skillet; In My Arms by Plumb; Heartbeat by Remedy Drive; Crawl by Superchic(K); Mystery of you by Red
"Reality means you live until you die...the real truth is nobody wants reality."
― Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor
"A girl calls and asks, "Does it hurt very much to die?"
"Well, sweetheart," I tell her, "yes, but it hurts a lot more to keep living."
― Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor
Chapter 6 - Neutral Witch
I half expect them to shout: 'Gotcha bitch, you're still pregnant. We all just wanted to play some sick joke on you!' I don't find Adell's strawberry blonde hair in sight; of course she wouldn't be here, coward. The pain grows in my head, pounding so hard I don't catch what the nurse is saying. Gah! Regardless of what they gave me, I fell like dying.
"Lavender?" The nurse asks her voice a little loud but muffled. I look at her, trying to make out her face, but it is fuzzy. Everything fades to black.
I let the soft smell of bread to calm me as I sit at the table, running my fingers across a smooth table top constructed from a woodland tree from the forest nearby.
My eyes watch a woman across from me in adoration. She is kneading bread dough on a floured cutting board. Her petite face glimmers with sweat and flour that seemed to have magically appeared on the smooth skin. Her blue eyes watch the dough churn with her fingers in a rhythm that could only be attained by countless hours of practice and failures.
Her tan blouse sleeves are pulled up to her forearm and most of the blouse is hidden behind an apron. Flour cakes the apron along with other stains that we weren't able to get out during the weekly wash. Her Strawberry blonde hair is pulled back in to a bun, but that didn't stop it from falling out as she pulls and pounds the dough.
Mother is a short and fragile woman. It was a miracle that she lived birthing 4 children in her first year as a wife. It is also a miracle that the benevolent woman could beat and stretch clumps of dough with so much power and precision. Mother looks to me, her blue eyes shining from the light that enters through the opened windows. She smiles and wipes her forearm on her forehead, smearing more flour on her forehead.
I had always envied Glinda's resemblance to mother: her beautiful strawberry hair that seemed to fall into curls without using ties or special brushes. Her always-shining blue eyes, just the right shade to be swimming in – my father had said - and a small mouth, her lips permanently painted a rose-tinted pink and they always seemed to be turned up, no matter if she was angry or sad. No. I didn't share anything other than her petite form, I have my looks from my father.
My skin was darker than Mothers, my hair black, and my eyes the most curious shade of purple, not that humans should have purple eyes. My pale lips are never turned up, nor are they turned down, but straight, in a permanent indifference.
'Ravia, dear, go play with your sisters' mother interrupts my musings watching me with curious eyes. I nod and slide off the chair. Walking to the clearing where I spot my sisters. Glinda, Mumbai, and Elphaba we all looked a least a little different. Elphaba has the straight black hair, Mumbai has straight blonde hair. All three of them have different shades of blue: Glinda has a light blue, Elphaba has a deep ocean blue. I am actually the only one who didn't share the family trait, probably because I was the last born, or that I am destined to be a witch – so the villagers say - .
'Ravia!?' Mumbai's Melodic voice sings. I wave and walk over to them. A boy stands with them, holding a lavender blossom. His eyes widen at me, mouth forming into a grin. I smile, curtsying to the boy.
. . . . . . . . .
Being 16 is being the age to marry, and I knew what was happening from the start. The boy was a peddler's son, on his first adventure he said. Father had seen an opportunity to get rid of a daughter that will likely turn up to be an old maiden, destined to never marry. I had gone home with the boy, gotten married and traveled with them afterwards, being the family slave, much like every other woman.
Later, when my husband's hair began to grey, I noticed I wasn't growing from my 16-year-old form, but my husband had already gone to war before I had actually noticed.
He died, leaving me, the poor merchant's wife, a widow.
I wore black most of the time, as did most widows, but my heart wasn't as empty as those others. Their hearts ached for their husbands return, they felt grief, and though the man was gone they would never have to feel that heartache, the king gave widows immunity to almost everything. They would keep their houses, no matter if they couldn't pay the keep. If the widow's had mouths to feed, he would send in food when needed, they need not lift another finger, for they had lost something dear to them, but I don't see what I lost.
I didn't count myself as one of them. I never loved him, never will. After that I made my home in the forest, and for 60 years rumors seemed to have been stirred into a cauldron of their own. They all consisted of me being an old hag. One of me eating children, that's what repulsed me, I would never kill a child, would never harm one. I wanted one of my own though, and that is what brought to my attention that I was unable to conceive, no matter how many times I had been called into my old husband's bed, I had not been pregnant, I had never conceived. The thought made me heavyhearted. . .
I wake up to blue eyes, strawberry hair falls around the face in ringlets, creating a halo of importance.
"Adell, you shouldn't wake someone up like that when in a good dream, it is bad luck." Sage says from her spot next to my bed. She is reading a book. It's not like she's stopping her or anything. I growl, closing my eyes to go back to sleep. "And the fact that Lavender isn't a morning person would also be a reason to not wake her up." Sage says a small smile on her lips.
"What do you -?" I was cut off when everything crashes into me. I regain my footing after remembering. I roll my eyes, and start to stare at the ceiling.
"I wanted to tell you that I am sorry." Adell blurts before I am able to tell her off.
"Isn't that nice?" I state, putting my eyes back to the ceiling.
"Lavy, when someone apologizes you usually accept the apology, or thank them for apologizing" Sage spoke, as if I am some child who needs help with their attitude. Although I did have a pretty messed up attitude, I don't want to change it, and I am not a child.
"I know what I said, Sage. I am no child." I say, giving them both a glare. "She made me upset, she knows she shouldn't do that. She has done it to many times before, I will neither accept nor will I thank her for apologizing."
"You're being difficult, Lavender." Adell says a strict look on her face. That is what I am going for. I give her a pointed look and look back to the ceiling, making pictures in the paint blotches. I hear her sigh and walk out of the room.
"That was uncalled for, Lavender." Sage says, giving me a disappointed look.
"I am not ready for her yet." I tell her, keeping my eyes on the ceiling.
"You could have told her instead of acting like a brat." I look at her, really? "Yes, Lavender, there are other ways of telling other people to fuck off without using those words, you know." I nod
"But it is a hell of a lot easier to tell someone to fuck off." I smile at Sage's frustrated frown.
"Language, please, Miss Thyme." I hear a silky voice from the doorway.
"Madam Mayor." I announce. I then spot Henry behind her. "Sorry Henry." He just nods walking forward.
"I told mom that I wanted to see you, to make sure you were alright." He nods, sitting in a chair next to me.
"And is that what you came to do?" I ask, screwing up my face a bit. He gave me a look that says: 'Kind of, but I also came for something else.' Mayor stands behind him, knitting her eye brows together. He bends forward, so I instinctively turn my head to hear the whispers I know he is going to use. "I found out who you are in Fairy Tail Land." He whispers lowly so only I can hear.
'Really?' I mouth. He nods. "Who am I?" I whisper back
"The Witch of the South." I flinch; I don't remember any witch of the south from any movie.
"There is no such thing as the wicked witch of the south." I whisper to him. Madam Mayor, who is trying to eavesdrop into our conversation, visibly flinches as well.
"Not wicked, just a witch. You are neutral, you don't choose sides." It made sense, except the part that I was a character from a fairytale. I let it all sink in.
"How do you know?" I ask, bringing my voice down once again. He thinks a bit, mouth turned skeptically, brows knitting together before they smooth out again.
"I just know." I nod. Your guess is better than mine. This kid might be crazy, but somewhere, something inside me believes him. Bits of my dream return to me, confusion reigns my face. Maybe Henry is right. Maybe we all are fairy tale characters? The thought seems alien, but it fit, didn't it? A weird expression found its way unto the Mayors face, but before I could try to decipher it, it disappears.
"Henry? Are you going to give her something?" The Mayor asks, hinting toward the pack on Henry's shoulders.
"Ohhh, Yeah!" He turns his book pack and pulls out a card. It says: 'Get well soon' with a little teddy bear in front, who is holding balloons. I open it and find the whole card scrawled with little notes and signatures from most of the town. I smile and thank Henry. I have never felt this loved before, and by a whole town no less. Looking to Sage I find her smiling happily to herself. I let out a small giggle as my ears and nose turn pink (My equivalent to a blush.) Regina smiles kindly and Henry has on the biggest smiles he could muster up, and as I look at him, it somehow gets bigger.
Ahhhh it is good to be home. Taking in a deep breath I smell our laundry detergent and all three of our natural smells mixed together. I sigh and fall onto the couch. Jinx jumping up on my stomach. Oh how I missed this!
"Lavy! We are going to Granny's for dinner, want to come?" Sage says from the kitchen.
"Yeah, sure!"
It is good to be home.
When we get to the Diner every body in Storybrooke is there. They welcome me back as if I had been gone forever, instead of a few days. I smile and give my thanks for coming. And while I sit the bar, alone and happy I feel someone sit next to me.
"Having a fun time, deary?" Mr. Gold asks. I nod when I notice a box sitting in front of him on the counter. The box is wrapped in a shiny, golden wrapping. A purple bow is wrapped around it perfectly, as if they had taken extra care into wrapping the object that is held inside.
"Yes, are you? Mr. Gold?" I ask, turning back to my drink. He makes a face that is in between skeptical and bored.
"I don't usually come to these things, but I felt the need to give you a gift." He pushes the present towards me, but something inside me holds me back from grabbing it, though I am elated someone got me something, and Mr. Gold of all people.
"Does this gift cost me anything?" I knew Gold didn't give anything away for free.
"Just remember: I did you a favor." He smiles a mischievous grin. "Go on, it is yours now." I feel the hold on my body give up and I grab the gift hesitantly. I look at the wrapping again.
"Did you wrap this?" He just nods. "You should wrap my Christmas gifts." I add he shakes his head and motions for me to open it, which I do, delicately.
With the box unwrapped it just looks like, well . . . a box. A small, glittery, white box that holds the mysterious gift that Mr. Gold gave me. I sigh and open the box.
Inside is a necklace. A lavender stone, no bigger than my thumb, is framed by two silver swirls on each side, creating a kind of heart. When you reach the bottom of the heart shape that is an arrow-like swirl pointing down. It connects to the chain at the top of the heart, where a loop holds it together. It is a very beautiful necklace. I turn towards Mr. Gold, but he isn't there. Well . . . I'll have to thank him later. I pull the necklace out of its container and stare at it while it is in the palm of my hand.
Knock, Knock, Knock. 'Ravia?!' Who could that be? I make my way to the door to the somewhat familiar voice that was muffled by the door to my house. No one could find this place. I open the door to find . . . Regina?
'May I help you?' I look behind her to find guards.
'Bow before your Queen!' One sneers.
'I owe no queen or king my knee!' I shoot back. I turn towards the 'Queen' to take a look myself. She doesn't seem as angered as one queen should, so I raise my brows. She looks at me in a bit of disgust, but she hides the emotion well. 'What is it you want?' I know I shouldn't bring up the circle in front of her guards. 'If what you wish is a deal, I have to decline, I am busy. If what you wish is my home, then I say: get out of my forest.' I can tell she is getting a bit angry. 'But. If you wish for a conversation.' I turn towards her guards. 'One is best in private.' The Queen thinks for a moment as my accented words hit her ears.
'I want information.' I lift a brow again.
'I am busy.' I say and closing the door, but a hand holds the door open.
'Then let me help, dear.' She slips into my home. I growl at the guards.
'No guards.' I state through my teeth.
'Fine, you're dismissed,' she waves. They all left, but not without giving me hidden and hated looks from behind their helmets.
'What do you want, Regina?' I ask, still through my teeth. I knead and pound the dough that I was working on before she came. She sits opposite of me, much like I did with my mother a long, long time ago. Everything in Regina melts before me, and I see something I have never saw in the usually strong girl: Sadness . The sadness, the anger, it eats Regina up and she doesn't know how to handle it.
'I can't handle it anymore.' Is all she says as I tear into the dough's soft clumps.
'Handle what?' She never came to talk about her feelings, never. I actually never saw this side of Regina before.
'The pain! The anger!' She hits the table and let a small amount of flour to fly up. She let out a small sneeze. I swallow a giggle. When she sits down again I stop pounding the dough.
'Care to try? You did say you would help.' I stand there a moment before untying the apron and tying it around Regina's now standing form. She rolls up her sleeves and starts to pound and knead the dough much like I had, but her hands aren't as nimble with practice as mine were. I wait for a moment, watching her move. Anger rising as she gradually begins to just hit the defenseless dough clump, one hit after another.
Incoherent mumbles are heard, and I knew by that time it is too late.
'If you keep hitting it like that it will start to stick to your fingers, dear.' I say, but it is too late, she is far into anger. The burning fire in her eyes says as much. 'And I don't want you to ruin my defenseless supper.' I sigh and stand up. I walk over to Regina, who is quite literally pounding the dough.
SMACK. She stops and looks at me, tears in her eyes,and a hand on her cheek.
What the HELL! I look down at the pendant, the lavender-purple stone shines eerily.
"Are you ok?" I jump, hearing the voice that was in the vision. Regina? - no, the mayor -
"Uhh, yeah." I shake my head and put the pendant back in its box.
"What is that?" She asks, looking at the box.
"Mr. Gold-" I stop, an accent? I haven't had an accent since I left England. I clear my throat and try again. "Mr. – " again!? I don't open my mouth again. This is weird, I had lost my accent after living a few years away from my adoptive family, and I am unable to fake an accent. "Mr. Gold gave it to me." I said. Clearing my throat again. It was getting to be quite annoying.
"Are you alright? Lavender?" Right, that was my name, Lavender, almost forgot. What did I think my name was? I groan.
"I think I need to go home, please?" I give her the puppy dog eyes, even if they wouldn't really do anything. She nods
"I will go tell your sisters that you want to go home." She smiles sympathetically. Wait. . . Sympathetically? Will my life need to get any worse?
Authors note: Well . . . only one follower? That is sad . . . Well thank you my one follower: Bandia! YAY! I am actually surprised I am keeping up with this story! Maybe when I hit that chapter mark then I will get more readers. Well, Have a good day!
Ok, so here it goes:
I am behind on my schoolwork (but I am getting it together now, thankfully) so I don't have much time for the story, but I am trying, honestly , I think I might be down with some stomach flu or 24/48 hour bug that is going around in my sisters (and Cousin's) schools, and they just so happened to bring it home to make me sick. But of course, my dad's work got it too, soo . . . yeah it sucks for my family. My mom's work probably will get it to (but it is only a few people who work with her so very fortunate for her, less chance of getting it, but if one of her people get it, all of them do, so just hope they don't.
And as I write this. . . I remember that I have to edit. YAY ME! KK all edited, and all in about 20 minutes(maybe 30?) woah, already 2:48 in the MORNING! Gah. Bye, need to do a lot of school work in the morning and hopefully start on chapter 7.
'