A/N: Hey! Finally! Took me a real while to come with anything, honestly, I thought I wasn't able to finish this. But here we are! Hope you enjoy!
(Nightfall Farm - North to Storybrooke)
Autumn was known to hold memories—as soon as you let them go, the old ones arrive in piles and if you take the wrong path, you're lost.
Diego recalled how his mother would scold him often, mostly for playing with the servants' children who were ordered to clean the stables. His father would spend afternoons discussing business and his tutors would praise his skill in battle. His lovers adored to walk beneath the golden touched trees.
The love of his heart, on her last letter, wrote a contemplation:
Love of my heart,
If this letter reaches you, worry not, for we are safe.
Our child is healthy, as I am, although the tiredness lingers. A powerful magic can be felt in her, though. And yes, I suspect on a little girl, but I admit such thoughts are my hopes speaking before my reason.
My surroundings are calm—the village nearby has not shown signs of rebellion. My guards have been loyal to me for many years, and even those who do not share the sentiment wouldn't dare attacking me now they know of you. Still, I preferred a cave away from here in order to give birth. Not only do traditions ask me of this, but a secret place away from others will also give me a sense of security.
After our child is born, I will return home...and I hope to meet you there, not only for our child, but for me as well.
You've been most kind for accepting the terms I set for our bond. And I'm aware I told you that I had no wish to pursue for any kind of relationship beyond the connection we will share now we have a child. But I won't, neither can, ignore the longing for you burning in me at every moment.
We are souls linked through a bond that transcends time, and it frightened me. Having the chance, however, of an overview at the shape of why we are bonded, I rediscovered the beauty of the future that lays before me—a miracle I didn't expect.
I often watch as every leaf that falls and melts was once a flower—I adore the harmony, a luster in the sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been. And as the autumn darkness falls above the solitude of my home, all I can remember is your kindness—it is all I need to remember so peace can reign on my heart: the fire of your touch, the comfort of your arms, the longing I have for your voice, and every single gift for the fruit of our love, who will be born soon.
My sorrow, when you're not here with me, has those dark days of autumn rain as solace—and I wish one day to walk with you by the sodden pasture lane.
Here and now, the falling leaves are the representation of my tears, the cry of my passion for you. I swim in the cold, my love, aching for your presence. The garden of our love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than peace or joy. It bears love beyond any condition: without you, I cannot live, as a flower cannot blossom without the sun.
The autumn of today is my darkness followed by the next months to come, but my light is to know that soon I will be by your side, delighted by your touches and waking not only to one, but two smiles to greet my day.
I love you. I'm not afraid anymore.
There is no doubt or fear, just want and will.
I miss you greatly.
Please, be safe.
Yours and only,
M.
He kept that letter hidden in his office. And he would re-read it from time to time, and his heart was warmed with love and longing and pain. He lost time how many time he had read those words, happiness, passion, even fear exploding inside his heart as fancy flames in a sense of fulfilment and peace.
He met her at night. Another ball of nobles and allies and enemies, of which he had been trained ever since to know how to behave, with whom to talk and what presences to avoid. His heart was broken at the time, desolate after the betrayal of his beloved, and he was in the process of forgetting. Those whom he could call friends, few by the way, tried at all costs to improve his mood, and while he smiled in an attempt to move on, his escapades only brought more and more scars.
That was when he saw her, in purple robes and golden hair. He knew it was not the effect of the strong wine he had been drinking for at least two hours, for the comfort he could find in alcohol had never made him feel so happy. He was honest with himself that night, admitting that not even his lost love had made him feel as if he had found his place in the world.
Then he ignored everything and everyone, men and women, and practically begged for a dance with that woman.
She denied him.
He insisted, of course, ever the fighter, and between unobtrusive looks and even bolder questions, they danced under the moonlight. He lost himself in her heavenly eyes, hard to discover the reasons behind her evident sadness, his heart burning in making happy a woman whose name she wouldn't tell no matter how many times he asked.
She was gone just like the old tales, at midnight, without leaving a crystal slipper behind. It left his heart panting, filled with renewed energy.
The ambush came soon after. The captain still blamed him for Lolita's death, and why he should not, since he had reaped her life.
Diego fought him and his men, being thrown to the ground in a none too shy battle. The woman of his heart saved him, defeating the men and his captain with only the movement of a hand, and he soon wondered if the magic she used to save his life was also used to steal his heart.
It did not matter, for she left him just as silently, and he shouted back.
Her image did not leave his head, and he begged any god to bring her back.
A wicked sorcerer told him everything about her.
He despaired to be with that woman. He changed his form. She accepted him and together they danced through the skies. They created life out of the truest love. He kept his distance in name of ancient traditions, yearning for the day when he would reveal his true nature. He sent gifts—perfumes, jewels, food, expensive fabrics, silver and gold. Finally, a rattle for the child she was expecting, along a black unicorn that almost cost him the right eye sight to find. He even suggested a name in a note.
Between letters, they talked and he dreamed of being able to find her again.
But then the letters stopped coming, and he abandoned everything. The connection told him that something terrible had happened and in agony he sought for her all over the kingdom.
The Evil Queen spoke of her death, but he did not believe. He couldn't.
Months after the last letter came the Dark Curse, and he was lost in the land without magic for thirty long years.
Upon awakening, the pain in his chest was huge.
And he cried.
The three fairies revealed the truth to him and he swore for revenge. He gave up when he realized the folly that would be lost if one was already lost.
He tried suicide.
Twice.
A razor and poison.
The three fairies found him. They helped.
He hated them for it.
He was hospitalized perhaps too many times, drinking more than he ever did back in his homeland. Diablo, already the stallion he was meant to be, only allowed him to approach but never to mount him. It was as if he expected the one to whom it was promised to, and Diego lamented.
The sun would rise and he would survive—then lay flowers by the tomb of the loves of his life, fourteen days into the month.
He choose that day for many reasons. Fourteen was a unique number. It takes fourteen days in waxing (growing larger) before we can observe the beautiful full moon. In China, it brings bad luck, pronounced "one four" which sounds like "death". To French, fourteen is the card of reasonableness and self-control—temperance. Reversed, shows lack of self-control, struggling with a conflict of interest.
To him, it meant forgetfulness to what he couldn't just ignore.
So winter was coming, and his day started like any other day, yet different. He woke up alone, coldness in every corner of that room that was confined to an old dresser, his bed, a broken lamp and a wardrobe that he bought it in hopes of repairing, but left the job undone, and one of the wardrobe's doors now rested against the wall near the window.
He absolutely hated this life, from the start, and would do it more and more and more.
"Hey, boss!"
He put on a black leather western hat and left the charming but old farmhouse he had been living for about thirty years.
"Boss!"
Diego drank from the hip flask hidden on his jacket. No breakfast today...or any. His muscular figure had dissipated over the years, and his beard was becoming a nuisance, not as white as his hair, yet it served to protect his face from the cold wind. It added on making him look at least ten years older than he actually was, yet he cared little, honestly. He wasn't the vain man he once was. He didn't have a reason to be.
He lost the reason to it.
"Good morning, boss!"
The farm was not very large, and even if it was, he would prefer to walk around as he checked on everything. According to his psychiatrist, walking was a great exercise to the body and to the mind, and it was basically all he could do, apart from drinking, to easy the pain on his chest.
"Boss!"
His employees were loyal and he knew them all by name. They came from different tales and lands, working under his command for different reasons he would not ask.
And all of them knew of his tragic history.
"Morning, boss!"
Soon after the end of his fourth hospitalization in a clinic, he had promised himself to rebuild the farm, no matter how damaged it was, and then decided to invest on a horse breeding business—he knew how to deal with horses and he loved them too so it was more like a hobby than anything.
The three fairies' magic helped a great deal on rebuilding the place: having a new barn, water supply, outdoor sheds (for horses in pasture), the shade shed (built in pastures lacking in shade trees), and so many other necessities (but not at, well, horses—Diego made sure to get them himself).
He had been, after all, a business men back in California.
Within a month, Nightfall Farm was back to life.
To Diego, working on the farm felt like a balm. He had many more things he ever hoped of having or dared to dream, yes, but he had to move on. So he walked horses and cared for foals, and spent the evenings reading and sighing papers on his office, and the dealings either involved investors, or simply checking ins to see if everything was as it should be.
He adored the place.
Yet, it lacked the presence of the family he always dreamed of having.
"Good morning, Mr Vega! I hope your day is well?"
Diego nodded to his assistance, a young brunette in her late twenties who went by the name Eloise, but spoke to her brother, also his foreman, "How is your shoulder, son?"
"Fine, sir." said the lad, named John. "Diablo got me pretty badly. Serves me right for trying to approach him."
Diego shook his head, "Don't blame yourself, son. That horse is more of a problem than a benefit." Then, he sighed, "His behaviour was never normal, but lately I don't know."
"He hasn't left the stables, sir." said John, "Won't even eat."
Diego frowned slightly, "I'll have a look at him then. But you should be resting, son."
"He should." said Eloise, wanting to be part of their conversation. "But my brother is stubborn as a bull."
"Why, you don't have to say it like that, sister." complained John.
Diego smiled softly, "I assume I have no appointments today?" he asked Eloise.
The young woman nodded, "I've already cleaned your schedule as you asked."
"Good. I shall be leaving for the day. Unless it is urgent, I won't be seeing anyone. Please, excuse me. And rest, son. I don't want anyone under my command exhausting themselves."
The lad nodded, "Aye, boss."
Diego tipped his hat, "Please, excuse me."
And then he left to his car.
"You won't give up, will you?"
Eloise turned her gaze to her brother, "I don't know what you're talking about."
John snorted, "Mr Vega, I made your coffee! Mr Vega, your laundry is ready!" he mimicked his sister's voice in a ridiculous way, "Honestly, if Father knew that—"
"I am his assistant for a reason." Eloise said.
"You became his maid." John replied.
Eloise rolled her eyes, "He's a good man. He's attractive, and I don't think it's fair for him to be alone. He didn't deserve that."
"No one does, little sis."
Eloise didn't say anything. She watched as her boss walked away and her heart jumped at the possibility of winning over his heart.
It was an almost impossible battle, of course, but she was never the one to back up.
She didn't get her job by luck, after all.
(May Flowers)
"Don Diego! Please, come in!"
The fairy in pink coloured clothing smiled friendly as she opened the door of her house and realized who was visiting her and her sisters.
A tall man carried a glass bottle filled with the mead his farm produced.
"Lady Flora." Diego greeted her. "How do you do?"
The fairy did not have time to respond.
"Why, isn't Don!" Merryweather was soon pulling him by the hand, and the man found himself in the kitchen. Fauna was stirring a vegetable soup over low heat. When she saw Diego, she offered him a soft smile.
"What's in there?" Merryweather asked, noticing the glass bottle in Diego's hands.
Diego placed the bottle on her hands, "I've brought the mead you asked, Lady Merryweather." He answered.
The old woman's eyes were confused, "Mead?"
"You wanted to try that recipe and needed mead so it would be complete." Diego reminded her gently.
The old woman's eyes sparkled as the memory returned, "Oh yes. You have my gratitude, son." She glanced at the bottle on her hands, and seemed to inspect the object before looking up at Diego and saying, "You've been drinking."
Diego did not know why he was still taken by surprise. The disease that afflicted the old fairy had not reached its final stage, "I don't—"
"You shouldn't drink." Merryweather interrupted him, "Must we bewitch you?"
Feeling ashamed, having the three sisters helped him so much to recover from his addictions, Diego apologized, "I'm sorry."
But Merryweather only reached out, waiting for Diego to hand her the hip flask she knew he always carried with him.
The man sighed and surrendered, handing the hip flask to the old fairy, who threw the object straight into the trash and left the room to the garden outside without saying a word.
"How is she?" Diego asked Fauna then.
The green-eyed fairy sighed, "Somewhat unstable, but well, as fine as possible."
"I am fine!" They both heard Merryweather's voice come from the garden. Upon returning, she had a bouquet of white flowers in her hands, "Maleficent...I felt her presence." she told Diego, whose gaze became sad at the name of his twin flame, "Maybe if we search, we may find something."
Fauna sighed, "Sister—"
Merryweather ignored her, "You believe me, do not you, Don?"
Diego wanted to say yes with everything he had—but it would be giving way to feelings that should have been buried long ago, "I believe you are a woman of faith." He changed the subject wisely, but Merryweather wouldn't go for it just yet.
"You are a good man." She told him, "Bethany would've forgiven you." And then she offered him the bouquet of flowers she had arranged, as she always did when he visited, "I know she would. Do not blame yourself anymore. Let go. She wouldn't wish for you to loathe."
And Diego tried to smile, but the burning sensation in his eyes was stronger, forcing him to close his eyes.
"White lilies—" Merryweather referred to the flowers, "Her favourites."
And Diego nodded in what would be the attempt to accept his fate and loneliness for what seemed like the thousandth time.
"Blessings upon you, my son."
(Back to Nightfall Farm)
The farm entrance had gates made of dark metal—the sign "Nightfall Farm" draw in elegant lines with a moon and a star symbol right below it—sustained by short grey stone columns, secured by the type of high expensive tech system Lily had broken just maybe more times than a regular person should—even those with an extensive criminal record like hers.
August pressed a bottom on the gate intercom panel three times, waiting for about twenty minutes until a female voice finally answered.
"Nightfall Farm. Miss Eloise Sanders speaking. How can I help you?"
"Good morning, Miss Sanders. My name is August Booth, I am Sheriff at Storybrooke's Police Station."
"For what I know, David Nolan is the sheriff."
"I'm as a substitute until he comes back. I would like to speak to Mr. Vega, could you open the gate?"
"Mr. Vega is not getting any visits today. I'm sorry but no exceptions."
"I understand, but it's important."
"Do you have a search warrant?"
August hesitated, "No but—"
"Then have a good day."
And the woman hung up the intercom.
August pushed the button on the intercom panel one, two, three, four times, "Hey! Wait! What the hell! You can't do this!"
"She just did." Lily got off the bike and walked past the intercom, rolling up her sleeves, "Now we do it my way."
August face palmed.
Lily ignored him. Staring at the gate, she began to think. Hidden cameras with sensors, automated locks that required numbers and perhaps fingerprints?
Child's play.
Took a hair clip to open the interactive panel and a recently brought cell phone (one of the many gifts her mother insisted on buying her) to hack the cameras.
The lock took many bottoms on her cellphone screen and an app to generate a new password.
It was less than five minutes before she had the alarm turned off and the gates opened.
August watched silently. He had done similar thing son his younger days but never seen something that complex. He glanced at the two not so well hidden camera monitoring any visitors, "You know, we could just...jump over the fence, right?"
Lily tried not to feel offended, "There is a magic field. Similar to Mom's, but way vulnerable. It's connected to the lock, so if I break the lock, the field is gone." Sure, Maleficent limited their studies to dragon magic and Lily could barely teleport herself, but that didn't mean the young woman hadn't already figured out how spells worked, and how they could be created. Enough will and anything was possible. Plus, she didn't 'burrow' three books from Mr Gold's old store for nothing. "My grand-aunts' work probably." She deduced as the kept working, "Or the Blue Fairy. Whoever is more convenient. But magic can't fight tech."
August frowned, "Why not just use magic to open the lock?"
"I don't know how to do that."
Right.
"And you sure trespassing is a good idea?"
Lily was annoyed, "You heard that bitch—we don't have a search warrant. So either I do this or we wait here forever, 'cause someone with a security system like this doesn't like visitors. Specially at Fridays and after visiting the tombs of his lost family."
August chose not to say anything more because it would lead to answers Lily most certainly wasn't in the mood to give. He stayed silent as Lily would do her job. She was halfway done when she noted the restless figure beside her.
"What's up?"
"You know they'll find us in a way or another."
"Which is the plan." Lily said. "We break, fight the old man and hope that he doesn't freak out."
Sure, the plan made her tremble a little. She was a few minutes of meeting her father. She still hadn't thought of a best approach. He thought of her and her mother death—he had just returned from the cemetery after visiting their graves. He was most likely moody, grumpy, perhaps drunk and totally not in the mood to talk to strangers.
Breaking into his security system was the worst propaganda she could do of herself—it could end on him dishonouring her the same way James Paige did.
But if Lily was honest, this search had more to do with her mother than herself. For Maleficent missed her twin flame and that wasn't fair. Lily just couldn't allow that to happen. They needed each other. They were made for each other. And they never talk about it. They didn't know each other.
Lily wouldn't allow that to stand.
She felt like she owned her parents this chance.
They had lost too much time already.
"You...don't need to come with me." She also owned August for everything. He was a cop—doing this could get in in trouble, although she knew the prince wouldn't to do anything against August once he knew the intent of his actions.
Yet August was as stubborn as her.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." He handed her the much smaller helmet she has been wearing. "Ready to go?"
Lily ignored the strong beat of her heart and put the helmet on.
They drove down the road that seemed to have no end, lined of tall tress that blocked most of the view. Lily felt like a useless, nervous wreck. To say she was terrible at relationships was an understatement, so today could result in another rejection added to her next to disturbing long list OR something unexpected that could match her building relationship to her mother. She would try to say that the possibility of disappointment would not destroy her heart, but it was useless at this point. She had already invaded her father's farm, and she could end up thrown out of it if she was realist.
If she was optimistic, maybe her father would hear her.
If she were a pessimist, she wouldn't even care.
There is time to turn back.
The darkness, ever the torment, would whisper fears in her ear and Lily would close her eyes and swallow, her whole body shaking. Terror stung her, and having August's presence with her brought comfort, though not as much as she hoped.
And she was so distracted in what seemed to be a storm that she did not even notice when the bike stopped.
"...Lily?"
She opened her eyes.
The road lead to a typical farmhouse with a huge courtyard. It was kept in pristine condition, just like the fields around it. A clay oven was built to the side of the courtyard, and a small shed with all sorts of small projects and inventions stood lost in a corner.
August and Lily got off the bike, she way faster than him, and leaving the helmets behind, they walked to the farmhouse.
Lily herself felt like her heart was coming out of her mouth. The place had an aged and sad tone—making the say about a man's house reflecting his heart a somewhat ridiculously true statement.
As she stopped to look out a very large window, she noticed that everything was very still. The farmhouse boasted an abundance of space, overlooking the forest and farm. The kitchen was fully equipped yet untouched—she supposed her father didn't have many guests. The large wooden dinner table and benches and living area made everything depressing as they were obviously unused. There was an enormous fire place in the centre of the living place. The main door opened up onto a covered veranda with outdoor lounge. There is also a large raised fire pit for bonfires.
"Impressive place."
Lily jumped, startled, and noticed August smiling at her.
"You have pillows on your feet or what?" She asked irritated.
August chuckled, "Something like that." And Lily did not avoid a soft smile, returning to peer through the window that led into the living room.
"He is not here?" August asked.
Lily shook her head, "Or anyone. No staff either." She stepped away from the window and walked to the front of the house, where the hill began to last.
Her jaw dropped.
Beside her, August whistled, "Well, that's impressive."
This time, Lily had no reaction to his words.
Because everything in front of her took her breathe away.
The farmhouse was clearly not kept as well as the surrounding fields, which covered everywhere, and patterns only broke up by an occasional tree left to grow in peace. All around, beautiful horses and coats ran and lounged in the hushed pastures, and passing field after field ran the road to the south.
A set of three very large and tall silos would first caught the attention of everyone who arrived. They were filled with various grains a reserve to feed the animals By the backyard, you could hear bees buzzing all around the cacophony of flowers. Right beside it, a small seating area provided a resting place for those enjoying some of the mead produced and sold right here on the farm. The place itself held a friendly feel, which was helped by the gentle breeze carrying the scent of ripe fruits coming from a modest orchard.
The cold wind hit on her face, only worsening the sting in her eyes, and she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her sweater.
"Lily?"
She shook her head, not wanting to utter any words because she would not even know how. She just stared at the fields in contemplation of what she had once imagined as a paradise.
As a consolation from the heavens, the sunlight travelled shy through the clouds, giving even more colour and beauty to the place. Lily felt the heat of the sun's rays and as her life went through her head, she allowed herself to cry quietly.
She had found another place to call home .
And someone knew that.
"Run!"
Several employees ran out of the stables. They fled in desperation, asking for help. They quickly jumped over the white fence surrounding the training grounds quickly, some falling over the others.
Behind them, a black figure emerged in fury.
Lily's eyes widened.
D...Diablo?
She ran down the hill to the fields of her father's farm before she could stop herself.
Not that she wanted to.
"Wait!"
August's voice stayed behind, as well as all the reasoning Lily could have. She was so excited. The darkness did not even say anything. It was as if it had been silenced in the face of such joy.
Diablo ran through the training grounds, and employees exclaimed for help. It was indeed an enormous beast for his bearing, very similar to a Shire breed Lily once saw as a little girl, about six feet tall or more, but less furry.
Either way, Lily was delighted. It was the most beautiful horse she had ever seen.
And it was hers.
"Be careful!"
One of the employees shouted at her as he noticed that she was very close to the fence. But Lily just jumped over it and did not wait a second to walk to Diablo, who had not noticed her presence yet.
When he did, however, the employees became desperate.
"For God's sake, that bloody horse is not tamed! Get out of here!"
Lily ignored the man's warning and tried to read Diablo's posture—it was not aggressive, barely guarded. Any sudden movement would frighten him, sure, but fear would only add to his survival instincts. The key was to show absolutely nothing out, pretend she was not there, and definitely not try to run.
It worked.
The animal, as the fate given to him, walked quietly to the one he knew to be his mistress.
Lily grinned, but waited for the animal to come to her. She reached out to touch his muzzle and the animal nuzzled her hand. She then caressed his neck softly, practically laughing.
"You know who I am?" the animal let out a little air through his nostrils in response, and this time, Lily laughed, "Nice to meet you too, boy. Name's Lilith—Lily, for short."
The animal whinnied, happy. Lily could feel an aura of magic around him—the horn was hidden behind a simple spell to avoid mercenaries. She could bet the fairies were involved in this.
In the background, none of the farm employees understood a thing, "But what the hell?" one of them asked.
August, leaning against the fence, watched the scene from afar.
Lily returned his smile.
"This is Diablo."
The horse whinnied again, allowing August to caress his neck.
"I thought it was a unicorn?"
"There's a spell." Lily responded, "My great-aunts, probably. To keep him from danger."
"Your great-aunts?"
"Long story."
"Perhaps one day you can tell me?"
Lily was almost bemused by his audacity.
"That's your way to—"
"Excuse me!"
The pair turned, seeing three employees approaching, followed by a brunette in clothes that had nothing to do with a farm—a secretary probably. Diablo was uneasy with their presence, moving from side to side, and Lily tried to calm him down.
"Easy, boy, easy." She soothed him, stroking his mane, "It's okay."
"How does she do that?" Lily heard one of the employees ask. She turned to the secretary, who just like employees, did not dare to get too close. Lily immediately felt a bad feeling towards the brunette, but she did not let her suspicion show completely.
"Well, that's...interesting." murmured the brunette, staring at Lily wide-eyed.
Lily was confused, "I'm sorry?"
"Nobody touches this horse and lives to tell." explained the brunette. "My brother almost broke his shoulder just from trying to feed him."
Lily smirked, "I have my way with animals."
"I can see that." the brunette then frowned, "May I ask who are you? The gates are closed and there was no authorization given to anyone to come in. I would know if that happened. But Mr Vega made it clear that he doesn't wish to be disturbed and I will make a point of following his orders."
Ah yes. A secretary in love. It was all she needed.
"I'm Sheriff Booth, and this is my friend, Lily." August was again taking the lead, showing his badge, and Lily was grateful for it. She hated diplomacy. "We are in the middle of an investigation. And we need to see Mr Vega, if you please."
"I'm Eloise, Mr Vega's assistant." said the young woman, "And as I said before, he is unavailable for the day. He's a very busy man."
"I understand, but this is a very important matter." August said.
But Eloise was not intimidated, "It's not because we live on a farm that we know less about our rights." Eloise said with conviction, "In truth, I should call the police. But apparently not even them wish to follow the law."
August sighed, "Miss Eloise—"
"It's Miss Sanders to you." she interrupted, "And you're pushing the limits of a private property."
"And we're sorry. But this is a matter of urgency—"
"What's going on here?"
Lily could proudly claim she tried to stay calm, but her heart was struggling in surprises and fears, had ready itself to face anger, raw and harsh, fed on all lies told, vindictiveness and passion.
Instead, she found devotion, possessiveness, and sacrifice—along the natural abuse of tobacco and alcohol due the pain of the memories of darkness, blatantly exposed in a pair of hazel eyes holding the longing she thought only dreams could create.
Regret and sorrow.
Then kindness.
So much it made her lost her breathe.
"Boss!"
And literally everything else was forgotten.
By the gods...
He was tall. About twenty centimetres more than her. At least ten more than an average man. He was strong, large shoulders, and he seemed to have seen better days—and Lily did not blame him for his obvious neglect of himself. His grey beard with shades of white made him look older, dark circles and the stains of time showed weariness, and dried lips (not cold, but gin? Whiskey? Mead? Certainly not the best wine). The clothes were not very new, typical of a farmer's life: boots, plaid shirt, jacket and hat. His hands were large and carried calluses after years of hard work. Perhaps a few scars from using swords. His almost black eyes watched gestures and read thoughts, said fears and cried pains. His voice reminded her of thunderstorms, hoarse and grave, deep and yet comforting.
Lily witnessed her devil-infused youth reflected in her father's past.
"Well?"
His imposed authority and respect made her heart jump at the same time her body was petrified.
"Diablo broke out his stall, sir." one of the employees finally answered. "Luckily, this girl found a way to calm him down."
All eyes turned to Lily.
Hers wouldn't leave her father.
Couldn't.
"You..." Diego paused in thought, as if the idea of what happened was too much to him, "...calmed him down?" the emphasis to the word allowed his Spanish accent to escape smoothly.
Lily was unable to maintain her composure much longer. She dropped Diablo's reins all at once, taking two steps back. August touched her arms, an attempt of comfort that barely worked. She started trembling.
Which didn't go unnoticed by Diego, "I don't remember allowing access to my home." he then commented, grabbing Diablo's reins.
"I was just informed that the gates were opened and the security system hacked, Mr Vega." Eloise was talking, her phone in her hand.
Diego raised an eyebrow, and turned to Lily and August, "And you are...?"
"Sheriff August Booth, at your service." He showed his badge, and he and Diego shook hands, "I'm conducing an investigation that requires your help, Mr Vega. We...we took a long while to find you."
But Diego's expression did not seem to soften at the explanation. In fact, it got worse.
"So you're trying to solve a crime by committing another? I fail to see the logic."
Oh, the aggressive attitude bathed in sarcasm.
So nice to see from where she got it.
"I can assure we didn't mean—"
"Didn't you?" Diego's gaze found Lily's, "Have you nothing to say?"
Many, many things.
"Lilith." she spoke at once, "I mean, my name is Lily, I—"
"A pleasure to meet you, Lily." Diego turned to his secretary, "Miss Sanders, escort this young woman and her...partner, out of here. No violence necessary. They did save your life. I thank you, by the way." He told Lily directly, and tipped his hat as a farewell, "I bid you good day."
"Wait!"
The plea echoed through the farm and it seemed that even the animals were silent.
"We...we need to talk—you and me. Alone." Lily asked—begged even, "It's...it's important. Please, we—I-I really need to talk to you."
For my whole life.
Diego's eyes widened a little at her sudden sincerity and desperation, but nothing left his mouth. He just watched the young woman more closely.
She looked familiar.
Eloise tried to intervene, "Mr Vega, I'm not sure—"
Diego raised his hand, and the secretary closed her mouth, "As you wish."
Lily's shoulders fell in a reflex, so was her relief.
"You wait here." Diego told August, resting a hand on his shoulder, "I believe there's no problem?"
August glanced at Lily, who nodded at him.
The sheriff watched them walk Diablo to the stables.
Not far away, a female figure walked curiously around the farmhouse on the hill, eyes attentive to the smallest details and the lack of photos on the walls.
The silence wasn't as welcoming as she thought.
The stables housed dozens of horses of many breeds. The building was a very American-style—a large barn with a door at each end separated in individual stalls with top and bottom-opening doors, saddles hanging on each.
Lily could read names transcribed on small black plates attached to the doors. Looking closely, she noticed that it was the name of the horse that lived there.
"May I ask how did you hacked my system?" Diego asked as he opened the door bearing the name "Diablo," and locked the animal inside its stall. "It did cost me a fortune." Diego removed from his coat one of the many hip flasks he kept in his house. "Not that I'm not impressed." He said, and drank from his hip flask, grimacing at the taste.
Lily sniffed the air discreetly.
Gin.
"A little bit frustrated too. I developed that system myself." Diego then laughed, "And I ask you to give me the new password before you go." He sat down on a wooden stool leaning on a corner right beside the door leading to Diablo's stall. His gait was tired and a bit slow. He was recovering from a hungover.
For Lily, it was impossible not to stare at him and try to find some resemblance. She had done this several times when she was with her mother—and even did not need much, for Maleficent liked to tell her how much they looked like, how Lily reminded her of herself in younger years. Lily knew that she and her mother looked too much like, and one day she hoped to reach the maturity and calmness that her mother had developed as the years went by.
As to her father?
A complete mystery to be solve over time.
"Now tell me—" Diego's firm voice took Lily from her thoughts. "—what do you wish to speak about that cannot be heard by strange ears?"
Lily's eyes inevitably fell on the hip flask her father insisted on drinking again, only in a longer sip. Diego obviously noticed her peculiar curiosity, and was kind enough to offer it.
"You're awfully quite, are not you?"
While you speak a lot? Yeap.
"I used to be like you, you know? Not without reason, of course." His gaze became sadder than Lily thought possible, and her chest was filled in a compassion that even the darkness did not expect. "You see, the fairies tried to help." his eyes got lost on the floor until he turned to the hip flask in his right hand, "—they did try to convince me that this isn't going to get me anywhere. And they are right." finally, he sighed, "But no one said that it gets any easier to forget."
It has been four years to him, after all. One can forget a passion in a short time. It's more painful, yes, but it goes away.
But a true love that was not consummated to its full?
The image of her mother's so ordinary evening routine, sitting on the porch with a glass of wine in her hands, her gaze lost in the cold night bathed in the stars.
"You shouldn't."
The hip flask.
She was talking about the hip flask and her father's insistence on drinking a second handed gin.
Diego raised his eyes to face her eyes, "You—"
"Cocaine and meth. Rehab clinic for two years. I was sixteen."
Diego frowned at the brief summary of the young woman's story, as well as embarrassed by his own laziness and unwillingness to simply do what was best—what he knew would be the wisest in order for him to have a prosperous life and could play with his business without further problems.
A purpose was lacking.
Despite loving his farm, it was hard returning home to an empty bed.
"What do you wish of me?" Diego tried again, confused by her silent behaviour.
Lily swallowed hard, and kept her eyes glued to the floor.
"To talk."
Oh right, quite the eloquent one.
The darkness was so proud.
"Care to elaborate?"
She wished but she could not.
"You're not really a cop, are you?" The compassion took over in a way that she almost lost her breath. "That man...the sheriff, or whatever he is...is he forcing you to do something?"
Lily's eyes found his in an instant, "No!" she shouted, and maybe her voice was too loud that it startled a few horses. "He's helping me!"
Diego didn't seem convinced, "By breaking into my home?"
Oh, he was losing his patience.
No wonder. She hasn't speak anything. It was unnerving.
"I...needed to find you."
An immediate reaction was Diego porting an expression that said absolutely nothing. He seemed to be pondering her response, but not in a way that judged her behaviour nor actions. Lily wondered how her parents could get through hell of awkward situations without losing control and why she didn't seem to have get any of that. Were the darkness able to prevent any discipline from planning in her heart? She stared at Diablo, and wondered if only horses would know about her 'good' side. She was always terrible in relationships with people. When she was little, she preferred to talk to horses than to the few friends she had.
This has not changed at all over the years.
"Why did you need to find me?" His strong, even voice again caught her attention, "Is there...did we meet before? I feel...I can tell I know from somewhere. Though not from where, as I'm terrible at memorizing faces. Maybe...maybe you met someone I knew?"
Lily's eyes widened at that.
God, he knew how to read people.
"You can say that."
"And who would it be?"
This was the worst part of the plan, the one that she had not paid attention to. How could she prove to him that she was his long lost child without making him think she was going crazy? Because she just could not just tell him, "I'm your daughter." He was partially drunk and although she doubt he was the violent type, she couldn't really tell with him—she didn't know him. Any news stories told in the wrong way could make him have some unwanted reaction.
Plus, Lily did not want to add more pain to her father's life. She just wanted to make things simpler.
But how to tell him?
He would demand evidence, like any normal person. She could show him her magic, which at first seemed to be a good idea if it didn't the opening to her father to deduce that the fact that Diablo was harmless to her was only Lily making use of some kind of spell.
There was their great physical resemblance, but Diego seemed too tired to notice details. What's more, he could blame his gin for making his mind to distort reality for what he wanted.
She could tell his story? Which was public domain and probably everyone on the farm knew him.
She could talk about her mother, which would lead to revealing that Maleficent was alive as well and Lily did not want to drop two bombs at once. And finding out that his family was alive on the very day he went to visit their tombs seemed too good to be true. Her father had lived too long to not believe anything he was told, although his kindness and willingness to listen to a stranger showed that he was rather open to dialogue.
But what could prove that she was who she really was?
The sound of a baby rattle stormed into her mind and the object seemed to burn in her pocket. She always carried it with her in an attempt to remember that everything she was living—the magic that seemed to be unbelievable, just like her mother's love for her—all of it was real like the skies and the rain and the clouds, and it would not disappear in a simple gust of wind as in several of the dreams she had over her life.
"So?"
Lily swallowed, and taking all the courage she believe she didn't have, she pulled out her baby rattle from her pocket. She heard her father let out a deep breath that someone would say resplendent the pain of his soul. His voice became even more serious, and his eyes lowered, all in the confession of a man who clearly had no one to talk to, despite having the loyalty of so many.
"Not all was lost."
Diego was not shy as his eyes were filled with tears.
Lily, emphatically, allowed him to take the small object in his free hand.
"Silver was her favourite." He chuckled softly, and there was lots of sadness added to it, "I planned to send toys, too, not made of silver, of course. Wanted to carve them in the finest wood myself. I'm good at carpentry—used to be, at least, and then—didn't have time Not that it matters…" Another sip of gin followed by another, lower sigh. "…I apologise. My past must sound dismal to you..." he paused to frown to himself, "...to anyone, actually. At any rate, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."
Lily didn't have the guts to face him. It was too much emotion, too much for a person who did not even know how to answer to a sincere compliment from her own mother.
"I don't know how you came to possess this. Neither do I care." and for the first time that day, he touched her, in the arm, giving it a weak squeeze, "Thank you."
The young woman merely nodded, perhaps too many times, and said nothing more.
Diego accepted her silence, and took another sip of his hip flask to keep himself at bay.
Figures her father had the same habit of keeping his feelings to himself.
"Is there anything I can offer you as a reward?"
The proposal surprised her, "...wait, what?"
"You brought me a piece of the past—" his hold on the small object tightened, and his Adam's apple went up and down forcefully. His mouth dry again, he drank from his flask—to give himself courage, to keep him grounded. But a second later, he breathed a sigh, "—the last and only connection I had to my child." and looked up at her, "I'm at your debt. Ask me anything and it shall be yours."
Lily was naturally shocked, and involuntarily took a step back, "This isn't why—I didn't came here for—"
"Yes, of course, I—" his eyes fell to the small object in his hands, "I apologize. If I've offended you, that is. It was never my intention to—"
"You didn't."
He nodded twice, "Good." and ported a small, sad smile, "Good."
Oh, there was nothing good. Not in his voice, or his words, that empty could not sound more. There was defeat in his posture, in the way his shoulders fell, and the loose manner in which he held hip flask between his fingers, and the lack of care taken in despair as he drank his gin.
And yet, there was the gentleness and longing in which he stared and caressed that small baby rattle.
And there were his eyes, so sad.
Lily wanted to scream and tell him everything, that her mother was alive and that she missed him, and that she felt in her heart that despite being angry for his lies, she would forgive him, because their bond was stronger than any potion created by an unscrupulous princess.
And it was no good to feel as if her body would not obey her, and all there was left was her mind, and the darkness would laugh at her ears, mocking her incapacity.
Lily always hated her condition, but never as much as now.
"I'm sorry," She whispered, and did not notice that she had thought aloud till her father addressed her with a sincere smile.
"It's alright," He said, "There are things you cannot change." His gaze did not leave the baby rattle, "but you can keep memories, and rejoice on them—"
"I didn't came here to give you this."
Diego blinked, naturally confused, "You didn't?"
Lily crossed her arms to shield herself from more than her own feelings, to try to hide the tremor from her body, and to stay strong in what was one of the most thrilling moments of her life, of which she did not know again what to do but keep silent.
Diego obviously read behind her abrupt change in behaviour, "You don't need to be afraid, girl," he stood up and approached her in slow steps, almost carefully, and placed a hand on her arm again, "If there is something happening—"
"Lady Maleficent, wait!"
Diego thought he had heard the name wrong. His lips parted and any upcoming questions were interrupted by the stables doors opening in a momentum, and the wind gasped around in an unwilling force.
"El Zorro."
In the distance, standing by the stables doors, the slender figure of a woman was against the sunlight, and only her dark silhouette could be seen.
Her voice, however, was soft—the true contrast with the thrill of such a sublime moment.
"...Mom."
A harsh gasp, and any noise from outside, or around them, was muffled by the little song of a hip flask falling to the hay that was scattered across the floor, and Diego let it be so, the baby rattle still with him.
Maybe he lost count on how many things he felt in all those years alone and silent. Yet nothing would compare to the voice of thunders crossing the heavens, stunned by the wind on his face that revealed the tears that were already running through his face as the truth before his eyes brought an understanding that shook his very core.
And when he saw her offer comfort with a glance, a smile and a touch at the young woman previously talking to him and who now tried to wipe her face with the sleeve of her sweater.
The hip flask remained abandoned, yet taking his attention and thoughts, he being so sure that he had not drunk enough to start seeing things.
"Hello, Don."
There was no hatred like he always thought there would be. There was no love and affection contained in the letters that they had so often exchanged, however.
She first took notice on his condition, of course, by the way of his body, the truth in his eyes and silence of his mouth.
Hallucinations had him for a short time, and they had him tied up on a stretcher and sedated for days. Not that drinking could not cut off the effects of his meds—he had nightmares in the few nights he could sleep precisely because of the mixture of substances that he had been strictly forbidden to have contact with.
But who was there to judge him?
Who could?
His mind avoided thinking of her very name—because thinking led to memories that would kill him in agony, and in agony he kept him alive. Death would not be a remedy for anything but his pain, but it was not the way out that would lead him to the origins of his heart.
"Lily, would you like to wait outside?"
Her mother always gave her a choice and it was one of the things Lily would usually be extremely grateful for. And while she was also usually selfish as the darkness wished her to be, today she knew that her presence wouldn't help on anything in the matter.
"No."
His strong voice startled both of them, and their eyes met him. He was confused, rightfully so, not knowing who to believe in, or if he should believe them at all.
"Who..." Which it didn't stop him to ask, abrupt, brusque, "...what's going on?"
Maleficent was resigned in looking abnormally controlled. Lily however was desperate at the state of shock her father had developed in less than two seconds, and also angry at how regal her mother's arrival was. She would divert her gaze between her parents—God, those were her parents—not knowing what to do. The sole purpose of this introduction was to prepare her father for, well, everything. And now it didn't matter. It was as if her mother did not care if Diego could have a heart attack or not, if she did not know that he spent years mourning their "deaths", that he regretted his lies at every moment, and that he had honoured her memory and loved her more than anything.
But she knew what really happened.
Otherwise, she wouldn't even have bothered to be there.
Nor said his name out loud to ensure him that she knew.
"You know who I am."
But Diego's figure was tremor with a light touch of barely contained desperation. There was a ambitious intensity of looking at him in the eye, which could feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. Bittersweet, however, was to see how things turned out, how their plans were interrupted and their practically ruined with traumas that perhaps could never be forgotten.
It was difficult for Maleficent to ignore it, as well the sudden awareness of her own heartbeat.
She took a step closer, "I'm not here to hurt you."
Diego was frozen in place, staring at her with wide eyes, breathing quietly but heavily, his colour gone as he rallied from the shock. The alcohol on his system was not only to blame.
"I was with my aunts." Maleficent tried to explain carefully. She was becoming a little breathless as the reality started to sink in, but never lost her composure, still keeping the rational part of something she also hoped for, but she never thought it would actually happen. Which could somehow justify why she didn't think twice before August told her that her child and soul-mate were talking on the stables. "They told me about you—this." She took a couple of steps closer, and the result was immediate: Diego took two more steps back, stumbling. If it had not been for Maleficent, he would have lost balance and fallen. She had acted quickly, though, surprising Lily as she did so, and helped Diego sit back on the stool.
"Breathe with me." Maleficent tentatively rested her hands his cheeks, candling his face, and his trembling was so strong under her fingers it frightened her. "Breathe."
And even with trembling lips, with a fearful heart, a tired mind and a dark heart, Diego tried to speak, incoherent and weak, "I—you are—but—I felt it—felt it when you—when you…"
Maleficent frowned slightly, watching him carefully, searching for recognition. The reflex of own eyes in his tears, in colour and pain, brought a sympathetic conclusion fed by an information given not but a less than an hour ago, "You felt when the Saviour killed me."
Diego's voice sounded broken in ways many would think he had lost reason, his eyes filled with tears of desperation, "I felt it! The…the fairies said the bond—that it would keep us connected! That I would know if she was harmed! A-and I knew! Even before the curse was broken! You—she—died and—and—I couldn't do anything! I couldn't—I couldn't!"
His cry was despair. He was not gentle. His words carried longing, his love, his need. Sobs and tears and sorrow getting better of him.
Oh.
Maleficent wouldn't let go of his face, forcing to look deeply into her eyes while wiping his tears, "The magic on the cave kept me alive. Enough so the Dark One would resurrect me."
"...Díos..."
"I'm alive."
"Por favor..."
"I'm here."
"No..."
"Don—"
The sorceress' voice trailed off as he felt strong arms wrapped around her much smaller frame if compared to hers. It took but a moment for Maleficent to recover from the sudden act before accepting his touch and pressing against him, standing in between his legs, basking in the warmth emanating from him, the burning sensation in her chest suffocating her lungs.
Lily saw her father shaking, and his sobs weren't timid nor muffled.
And so that's it.
Enough to make Lily herself break into tears all over again. Just like some would say it would be. Mostly. Or maybe not, after all, her life has never been easy. How could it be? On a low note, it was as if the pain was singing as much as it could. And the fire was so much, terrifyingly frightening that it was welcoming, a recognition of blood, and the air left her lungs accompanied by her own sobs and sympathy.
Because what else could she do? It lead to the darkness raging in her head. At best, she would say nothing. At worse, the darkness would take over and she usually didn't remember a thing after the adrenaline was gone.
But Lily had become stronger. She now could fight against so many impulses. Her mother had taught her so.
Yet, right now, all she could do was cry while witnessing her parents' very first hug.
Memories served as a shy soundtrack to this moment. Melodies school plays and an empty chairs, competitions she won to only receive a dry smile as praise, and the years of rehabilitation without visits...pains that ran through the wind, sweet and soft.
Lily understood why fate had joined his soul to her mother's. Because in face of pain and loss, both were gentle, they understood, they listened, even without knowing what the next moment would be like, they did not judge, just...were there.
They gave her the greatest gift a child could ask for.
They loved her.
And so she cried.
What else could she do?
"I thought...I couldn't..." With a sob, Diego pulled away and pressed his forehead against Maleficent's. "I'm so very sorry. I lied—I know that we—that you won't—you didn't—I'm no dragon, I—please, forgive me—"
"There is nothing to forgive." The sorceress whispered and her voice was filled with emotion, "Absolutely nothing." then, she placed her hand over his chest, his heart, quietly listening to the now swift beating of his soul. "Don, I'm here. We are here." she declared, stroked the back of his neck, feeling the fire travel from his body to hers through the passion pumped by his strong heart. Her own began to beat painfully faster. "We never left," She allowed herself to touch his face in the kind caresses that made him cry openly. "We never will."
"We..." His gaze tentatively tore itself from his woman, falling over Lily. "...we—you..." he addressed Lily then, who, in a reflex, squeezed eyes that seemed to burn, her dry throat almost closing. "You said Mom—"
"It's her." Maleficent told him, and that made his eyes wide. "Our Elena."
Said young woman frowned and cleaned her throat, adding a shy smile that soon turned into a sad sigh, "Look, I didn't—"
"You didn't!" He would laugh in the midst of tears, and cry more without shame, and hug her and kiss her cheeks, "So beautiful, a woman already." and then he would hold her face and wipe away her tears and smile so openly that Lily would be so proud. Deep down, knowing that her father—and mother—loved her so much made her feel so happy. Like the perfect little girl her foster parents wished her to be.
The difference was that with her biological parents, there was no need for perfect grades, perfect plays, medals or smiles at fancy parties. Lily was loved because she existed. And there was no words to express how wonderfully new and frightening that was. But she was not running away.
Never again.
"And taming Diablo already! No wonder you did it! He recognized you!"
Lily wanted to laugh, and even did so, shortly, but soon after she wanted to cry again, and unlike her father, she held back her sobs.
"It's alright, I'm here." She would hear him whisper against her hair, before kissing her temple gently, "Díos, you are here!" and he would laugh again, his voice cracking and then more and more tears.
Oh, well.
You see, magic is not about power or possessions. It's not about physical things. It is about the passion of ideas, the possibility, the dreams that are sought and may or may not come true. It's about action, not results.
And to think that so many tried to overthrow this man, El Zorro, when it was enough for the woman in his heart and the fruit of their love to be there and he would burst into tears and almost fall to his knees, weak and frank, human at his very core, corroded with a longing that killed him while keeping him alive in the memory of what they had lived and hoping to one day to find them.
But they were there.
With him.
Them.
And he was theirs.
A/N: And this is it! Thanks for reading!
See ya!
