Alcina's chest burned as she placed the phone back into the cradle. Her mood switched between a violent seething rage and unbearable sadness. The boy had been chosen, she knew, long before Alcina had met him. She understood Mother wanted him; If not for a vessel, then as a part of the family that she was creating. She was powerless to change the events already set in motion, battling feelings she refused to acknowledge as jealousy. Mother only wanted him for his name – Alcina wanted him for his love.

The families had always been bound to each other – with ties that spanned back to the settling of the village. She was no stranger to young Karl and the rest of the Heisenberg clan. In fact, his family, like the other descendants of the founders, would attend dinner parties in her home. That was, before his mother passed away and his father shut himself up his factory.

The first time she met him was at such a party; he was a young thing, smile bright as he clung to her dress and stared up at her with big, watery blue eyes. She thought to send him away but, scanning the crowd, could not spot his mother and father. Despite trying to slide him away with her foot, he reached his fat little hands up to her and she couldn't help but liken him to a cherub with his chubby face, thick arms and mop of curly, wild, fawn-colored hair. Despite herself, she lifted him up and walked with him to the balcony. He played with her earrings and pulled a strand of her hair out of her meticulously styled updo and, instead of scolding him, repressed a smile as she felt a warmth in her chest she hadn't remembered feeling in years.

She would see him often after that, watching as he grew into a fine young boy. Sometimes at the church accompanied by his mother; other times alone wandering the village or by the water near the drawbridge, feeding the fish. At his mother's funeral.

After that, she took to bringing him trinkets obtained from her business with the Duke. Nothing so fancy or exotic as she had experienced as a child. But things that he would marvel over, nonetheless. A small wooden cup with a ball attached by a string. A roughly sewn teddy bear. Yesterday, in the cemetery, she had presented him with a small hammer. It was real, capable of driving nails into wood. He was so enamored with it, he neglected to thank her – but she didn't mind. She knew of his love of building. Of creating and improving. Of being useful. To hear his squeal of delight and see his hands shaking as he held it up to inspect the metal head and roughhewn handle was as much of a "thank you" as she supposed she needed.

She never spoke of this to anyone in all that time; and she assumed he did the same. She was never asked about it, anyway.

Tonight, on Mother's orders, she would collect him from his bastard of a father. It was no secret he didn't harbor a tender emotion in his whole body for the boy. Maybe it was purposefully. Maybe he knew Karl was never really his – that his future belonged to Miranda and the village. Feeling herself grimacing, she concluded that she didn't really care about the man and his intensions. Another shining example of the men in this village. Disgusting creatures as they were…it was beneath her to consider it a moment further. At least, Karl would be different. Slipping on her gloves, she slid out of the entryway and into the night to collect her bounty. Mother was expecting them, and she couldn't keep her waiting.

xx

"Oh please, won't you read it to me one more time?"

Alcina closed the book. "No, little mouse. It's time for you to sleep."

"Yes mam."

Karl strained as he returned his head to the pillows, and it pained her to see him so. She wanted to reach out, to touch his hair or comfort him as a mother would. Having no children of her own, she longed for the trappings of motherhood. But she refrained, simply pulling the covers up closer to his neck; covering the bandages that hid the hideous red gash lined with stiches on his chest. He looked so small and delicate as he laid there on the huge mahogany bed. She had commissioned it specially for him. As large as her own, it was hand detailed in pure gold, and adorning the headboard was the emblem of a golden steed. For however long she would be his, he would know happiness. She would make it so.

Alcina wrestled with her emotions, treacherous and dangerous as they were. She had to remind herself that the boy was not hers. She belonged to Miranda. He had a greater purpose, and she was to help make that reality.

Then let me have these moments, fleeting as they are. Soon to be memories. She allowed herself to reach out and stroke his hair. It was so soft.

The powder she had mixed into his water cup should have been enough to have him dreaming of places far sweeter, lands far brighter; yet she could see his little hands wringing the covers. Mother had placed him in her care to see him through the transformation, if one were to occur. Pulling out her handkerchief, she wiped away the sweat gathering on his neck and forehead, his skin scorching her cool flesh. The high temperature was normal, expected. But it had been two weeks since Mother had implanted the Cadou and he did not die, as Alcina had feared. Instead, he burned with such an intense fever for the first three days Alcina couldn't bear to touch him. A fever that had not yet abated. She thought of calling the maid and returning to her chambers. She pulled her handkerchief back to tuck it away when his arm swept to the side, placing his burning hand over hers.

"I wish that you were my Mama." Karl breathed. He closed his eyes then, and stilled.

Alcina's chest constricted; if she had a heart, she could have sworn she felt it beat. She tilted her head back; she could not allow the truth of her feelings to streak down her cheeks. Just in case, she turned down the lamp light. Settling back into the chair, she opened the book, and began to read softly as her tears betrayed her.