Someone requested a little more about their children, so here it is!
Stand By Me
There's a revolution coming, and she doesn't like the look of it. It's Blair's turn to deal – to placate and control – but she'll never again feel happy about taking on the role of judge, jury and executioner. It reminds her too much of other days, of Machiavelli, of being hated and feared but not loved.
Never loved.
It breaks her in two to do what she does. She feels the pain as if it is her own, as if the tears are her own – oh wait, they are. They are as much a part of her as the pain, forming a bond that goes deeper than any she's ever had: searing into her flesh and marking her as exactly who and what she is.
He gives her strength. It's part of the reason they're a team, how well they can harness each other and turn that power to the greater good (or evil – it just depends on your viewpoint). His hand hasn't always been as been as warm or as sure as it is now, but every last second of heat is worth the fight – it's worth the war. A Blair never to be alone, never again to be slighted or abandoned is a Queen B forever vanquished.
So she does what she must.
"No more macaroons," says Blair Bass firmly to her daughter, and she's almost grateful to wear the garb of a big bad wolf when the youngest Bass runs to her father, climbs him like a monkey, whines about mommy and her meanness and she can see – really see – eyes that are his and lips that are hers, and that the bloodiest of wars ended in a victory so incandescent with beauty that it shamed the heavens with its light.
Fin.