note: This is short, but I had to do it. I'm gonna edit this when im sober but im so emotional about my favorite canon single parent in FT. This is canonverse, feat. my life idol, Eileen Belserion, and her amazing offspring, Erza.

incalescence

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Before insanity existed a mother.

Eileen Belserion was three months pregnant when she was thrown into jail and subjected to the most dehumanizing acts of torture and humiliation, all at the command of her husband. In her dank cell with barely enough food to sustain a small animal, she magicked her child away, safe in her enchanted womb where no man could harm it. When the guards' laughter rang farther and farther from her prison and she would be by herself in the dark, she would caress her belly where the baby was no more, yet existed all the same. Eileen didn't even dare talk to her child. The sparse hope that she had, came from the notion that she would be doing more of that when she was free and healthy enough to bring her baby into the world.

She endured abysmal conditions for three years, her faith faltering some days but resilient despite all odds.

One day, her husband came to see her and she begged for her life and the child's. The General from the North all but spat on her. He must have thought her insane, for how could she claim to be pregnant for years? To prove it to her, he unsheathed his sword and moved to slice open her stomach.

Then became insanity.

Eileen Belserion transformed into a great beast and in a fit of rage, crushed her husband under her scaly feet until he was but a smear of blood and bones on the stone blocks lining her cell. As she flew over the skies, a million things ran through her mind: she'd killed, she was a monster, just like her husband had said she was, and she had nowhere to go.

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Human, human, human. For four hundred years, she rove the skies as a dragon with a putrid obsession for what she used to be until the dark wizard found her, gave her a flesh body again, but could not return the humanity she so zealously craved.

But now she was human again, and in lunacy, she allowed her child to finally progress with the intent to cast herself upon its body.

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Just shy of fall, she felt contractions as she was gathering water. Labor happened much quicker than the local midwives used to talk about, and all Eileen could do was crawl to a great oak, pull up her skirt, spread her legs and push. Her arms gripped bark and the heels of her feet shoved against the thick roots of the tree. Her screams were impressive and she couldn't tell which part of her body hurt most; it seemed her whole body was one angry spot of pain. It was horrifying to see life come into the world. Still, she pushed until she was empty.

She stared at the tiny newborn covered in life fluids and forest detritus, and for a while, forgot all about the centuries of selfish ideology. Too tired to do much else, she reached for her baby and held her flush against her breast.

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Getting rid of the afterbirth was tedious, painful and tiring. But after it was done, Eileen limped to the spring thankfully close by, and began the process of cleaning her child.

The water was blessedly warm. Eileen crossed her legs just by the bank and laid the baby on the knot of her aching legs. Scrap cloth she'd found in her knapsack was used to sop up water to wipe away what had crusted over the baby to reveal pink skin.

Eileen thought: newborns were ugly. Swollen from having squeezed out of a narrow orifice so they were splotchy and bloated. She'd seen and assisted births before and remembered her emotions to be more pleasant than this. Maybe if she was different from who she was now, she'd appreciate the little coo of the baby, the fuzzy whorl of red hair on her head, the tiny arms, the fatty chin, the scattering of freckles so like her own across the baby's nose.

Mechanically, she washed the baby. When she held the baby's hand to lift it and wipe the arm pit, tiny fingers closed around her larger ones. Eileen frowned, ignored that, and went about her task.

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By nightfall, after feeding the baby and wiping her bottom clean, Eileen deemed her work done. She should probably get to the cave but she still had a few moments to enjoy the warm summer air before it got chilly. Back by the tree where she'd given birth, she held her child and finally savored the look of her. She was female, and that pleased Eileen. Now she could freely do what she'd fantasized for years. Here was a human body. Here was something she could enchant herself into. Here was her ticket back to normalcy.

The baby gurgled, cooed, and her lips spread into a smile. Eileen waited for a burp, but nothing came. It seemed her baby was just smiling. At her.

It was just for that, that Eileen trembled. All at once she felt her resolve shatter. Years of suffering she'd endured for this opportunity, and she would be damned to let it pass because her baby smiled.

This time, tiny fists waving in the air, as if it was reaching for the braid of red hair that swung down from Eileen's shoulders, accompanied the smile.

Eileen sobbed, damned cruel fate, and knew in that moment that she could not harm even a hair on her daughter's head.

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For days, Eileen enjoyed what small moments of motherhood she allowed herself. She fed her daughter, watched her sleep snuggled into the warmth of her body, and delighted over every smile, every fart, every wail, every twitch.

Even so, she knew her resolve was a volatile one. She felt madness creep up on her when moments were quiet and she could imagine so vividly what she'd do to her helpless daughter, to poison her with magic to suit her deranged mother. Eileen was a smart woman and she knew what he had to do, even if it pained her to think that she'd spend the rest of her life never knowing how many ways her daughter could smile.

At least her daughter would be safe and would live a free life of her own.

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Eileen stole a basket and linens from a residence in the village outside the forest and made a bed for her daughter. Before dawn could break, she crept to the church and left her bundled up daughter in its doorstep. She shook as she set the wicker basket on the ground, trying not to feel all the remorse that threatened to gush from every pore of her body. She'd already said her goodbyes, her prayers, her hopes, her apologies, so she wouldn't have to dawdle in the town.

Eileen took one last look at her daughter, held her tiny hand and shook it once more, and turned away before weakness could claim her. She rose from the steps all but shivering, choking on sobs she kept swallowing back, and fled.

As she walked away, she thought, Oh, I never even gave her a name. I must be the most terrible mother in the world.