MUST READ Author's Note: Hey guys! So this story was originally intended as a one-shot but it has the potential for a multi-chapter fic. What becomes of it is entirely up to you guys. If you want more, let me know! Positive reviews are always welcome! Hope you all enjoy this fic!
She sat by the window, looking out at the rain falling from the sky.
It had been a long and difficult day for her. Another strike out with a rich man. How on earth was she going to afford the luxuries to which she had become accustomed without magic if she couldn't land a man? She sighed and tried to forget about it. She pulled her iphone from her pocket and checked her messages. Nothing. She had hoped for something- anything- to serve as a distraction. Even something from her son would have been welcome.
As he crossed her mind, she could see her reflection in the glass. Her face was the same as it was the day he'd been born- just with better make up. She remembered the day with startling clarity. She'd gone into labor alone in a barn, laying on a cot. The man who had fathered him had fled upon hearing her cries, leaving her by herself. Her labor had begun in the afternoon, and was still happening when night fell. The night air was freezing, but she was in too much pain to go and close the barn doors. She'd screamed at the top of her lungs, screeching obscenities as she pushed her child out. Fergus was born at three in the morning. That first cry had pierced her soul, had changed her forever. She had sat up as soon as she could gather her strength and cleaned up the baby so she could see his face. His eyes were blue and his skin was pale. His hair was a dark mess atop his head. She couldn't tell what color it was. As soon as he was cleaned, she nursed him at her breast. She stared at him, his eyes shut as he nursed. A spark of love unlike anything she had ever felt ignited inside of her. She knew in that instant how much she already loved him, but she knew that it was too dangerous to love him. She'd rather die than get her heart broken again by another man, especially her own son. Besides, he was a risk. Another coven could use him against her if they wanted.
Her eyes welled up with tears as she realized what she had to do. She planted a single kiss on the infant's forehead.
"I'm sorry." She whispered to him as he stopped suckling at her breast. His head rolled back as he fell into sleep. She watched him, weeping silently to herself for a long time.
She wished suddenly that she had never been pregnant, never been exposed to this vulnerability. She cursed his father, a faceless man in a never ending string of lovers. She had to quash this love inside of her for this child before it got too far. So she channeled it into hate instead. She told herself that she never wanted him, that he was useless. She tried to cover up the love underneath a mountain of hate. Eventually, it worked. She had tried to give him away so many times, but that small spark of love underneath it all had stopped her. It wasn't until the Grand Coven found out about him that she finally fled. She wished him well inside, but never said goodbye. It would have been too much for her to handle. She had always been callous, cunning, and selfish, but that spark was still inside of her. She feared saying goodbye would ignite it again.
Time passed, and she traveled to many places, but at night before she went to bed, she wondered what had become of her son. Sometimes she would be walking down a street and see a mother and young son walking together, holding hands. She felt a hot stab of jealousy every time. It took her back to Fergus' childhood, when she'd given him whiskey instead of singing him lullabies. She wondered what kind of person she might have become if she had embraced that spark instead of trying to crush it out. She wondered if she would have done things differently if she had known then what she knew now. Maybe she wouldn't have been so lonely. Maybe she would have known real love- not the superficial kind she was seeking now.
She got up from her seat at the window suddenly, trying to outrun her thoughts. She went into one of her cupboards and pulled out a tea kettle, filled it with water, and put it on the stove. Turning on the gas, she walked around the room, her thoughts still chasing her. Part of her, a part she tried to smother entirely, wished her son might give her a chance to be the mother she had never been. But she knew it was foolish. He would always hate her. She had made sure of that. She had squandered the love of the only person who might have loved her from the start because she had feared for her image. That was the dirty truth of it all. Now, looking back, she realized what a fool she'd been.
The whistle of the tea kettle startled her from her regretful thoughts. She got out a china cup and poured herself some hot water before letting the tea steep in it for a while. She threw the tea bag out and brought the cup to her place by the window and took a long sip. The cinnamon tea was warm and perfect for the weather outside. She went to look at the lightning flashing overhead when she caught sight of her face in the glass again. The longer she stared, the more the reflection assaulted her thoughts, taunting her with what might have been.
And then suddenly, she was crying into her tea, ruining her mascara in the process. All of her repressed guilt and jealousy and self loathing came pouring out in one cheated sob. She turned her head away from the window in case someone were to see her and reached for a tissue from the box on a nearby table. She dabbed carefully at her eyes, pulling herself together almost at once. She couldn't afford to let regrets get to her. She had to find a way to let them go. There was only one way to do that that she knew of. She would have to resolve to herself that maybe someday she could be brave enough (or stupid enough depending on her ever changing viewpoint) to someday be the kind of mother to her child that she had never tried to be. To embrace the spark that still lived inside of her instead of letting her inner darkness smother it out.
Feeling slightly better, she went to fix her makeup and try and attract the attention of another powerful man. But before she left, she checked her cell phone one last time. Promising herself that perhaps she might even call her son later, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.