AN: The self-indulgence of the century. I just love both Marion and Daphne so freaking much, and my heart melts at the idea of their relationship. So this is me writing them once again. Copious amounts of angst and h/c. Also excessive use of endearments (seriously).
Tw for a panic attack from outside POV. I believe I had one several years ago, but this is mainly based on research, not personal experience. I hope I got the portrayal right since I don't mean to offend anyone but remember that everyone is different.
Mostly canon compliant as in I try to reason out stuff from canon rather than rewrite it, and loosely based on 6x01 since I could only force myself to watch so much of it. This broke my heart to write; if it were up to me, Daphne would've gotten the DF back the second she got resurrected. But that would be a whole other fic.
With the Beast banished back to the depths and Bloom's friends seen off, Marion wandered the halls of her home in search of the guest of honor at the ball so rudely interrupted earlier in the day. In a withering sense of déjà-vu, she hadn't noticed Daphne slipping away – just her absence some (it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, Marion firmly told herself to assuage the guilt; she was not and could never get used to the lack of her daughter's existence) time later.
Normally, she would've sensed her through the Dragon Fire-
Marion shook her head, berating herself. Not normally.
Before.
Before the war, she'd been able to locate her daughter easily through their shared Flame. She hadn't actively used the connection often, not wanting to monitor the way her own mother had controlled her from afar, but the shadow-like presence of Daphne's magic had been a passive comfort – a reminder and a reassurance that Daphne had been somewhere nearby.
With no luck so far, Marion turned to climb the stairs. She had checked the gardens before moving indoors, rationalizing that the best tactic was to concentrate the search on specific places Daphne was most likely to visit but to go through them systematically from closest to farthest; none of them stood out to her since she didn't know what Daphne had been after when she'd left.
Or well… She had a general idea. The quiet was admittedly pleasant after such a hectic day.
It had been supposed to be a joyous day, celebrating Daphne's homecoming. The morning had been lovely; Marion had been ecstatic to see her family whole again.
She should've known to expect something to go wrong by now.
Luckily, they'd succeeded in avoiding casualties and even major injuries. The Trix had been repulsed by the joint efforts of Marion, Oritel, and the Winx. Despite the false start, Daphne had handled the Beast – brushing off any concerns and claiming to be just fine afterwards.
Marion had let the topic go back then. Now, though, she couldn't help herself; she was worried.
On the balcony adjacent to Daphne's room, she halted, devasted to realize she'd been right to be.
Daphne sat on the floor, curled in on herself with her knees drawn to her heaving chest. She didn't react to Marion's entrance but was staring straight ahead, her lips moving without a sound.
The scene was like a trapdoor opening under Marion's feet, dropping her right back to the years during the war. Despite her hunch of what had rendered Daphne to such a state, she quickly scanned their surroundings for actual dangers, dubiously relieved not to find any.
"Daphne", she called, fighting every urge in her body not to surge towards her daughter; instead, she kept her pace steady and movements calculated in case Daphne hadn't heard her. She crouched in front of her, repeating her name. "It's okay. You're okay."
Debating whether or not to reach out and touch her, Marion tried to soothe Daphne through words first, even when she wasn't sure she'd manage to choke them out around the lump in her throat. "I know you're scared. But you're not in danger. Do you hear me, Daphne? You're safe, darling."
Daphne let out a whimper, and as pathetic and small as it was, it overrode every instinct other than Marion's maternal ones. She ran her hands gently along Daphne's arms that the latter had curled around her knees, encouraged when Daphne didn't pull away from her touch.
"All right, baby. I'll stay with you, and we're going to breathe. It'll help this pass."
Ignoring the wheeze Daphne let in return, Marion started counting out loud, exaggerating her own breathing as an example for Daphne to follow.
Concentrating on the gradually slowing pace of Daphne's panicked breaths, Marion locked her own feelings away. It wasn't without effort when she was faced with the horrors from which she hadn't been able to protect Daphne, but experience helped her keep her cool. She thanked her luck that her time with the Company had through trial and error taught her what to do; as much as she didn't like delighting in the fact that she had had to use her friends as guineapigs during their distress, she'd still prefer to sacrifice them over her daughter.
Another thing Marion thanked the Dragon for was that it seemed that Daphne was receptive to her touch. She couldn't take away Daphne's terror, so without the anchoring comfort of Daphne's skin, she would've given in to her own. She didn't know whether to be relieved that the danger was only inside Daphne's mind or fretful since there was no physical threat for her to save her daughter from. The only thing she could do was to help Daphne beat the cruel trick her mind was playing on her body.
The minutes that ticked by with Marion crouched in front of Daphne's balled-up form were some of the most excruciating of her life – and from someone who had spent 17 years in Obsidian, she figured it was safe to say she wasn't exaggerating. What made the situation even worse was that compared to those years, she now knew with certainty that Daphne was suffering more than she was. She had been emotionally incapable of even entertaining the idea of her daughters' deaths, but the notion that had gone without saying, or thinking, had always been that the hell she'd been residing in had been as far away as possible from where they had ended up in.
Marion was saved from pondering what circle of hell the limbo that Daphne had spent two decades in could qualify as by the girl in question straightening her legs and leaning her head back against the baluster. Marion shifted, too, relieving the pressure in her knees. Technically, she hadn't aged in Obsidian, but there were times when she felt the decade and a half. Kneeling a little further away from Daphne to give her space, she couldn't have cared less about the hem of her dress that would soil from the floor. The drops of blood that soaked into it, however, caught her eye.
"Daphne, you're bleeding", Marion stated, unable to keep the pitch of her voice from rising slightly – the dark red trickles against Daphne's pale skin a striking if not an unfamiliar sight.
Daphne turned to look at her hands, clearly a little disoriented still as she simply blinked and slurred, "Oh, I'm sorry."
Marion swallowed her wince along with the impulse to reach out and grasp Daphne's palms into hers. She tilted her head to try to catch Daphne's eyes, extending her hands so the latter would see them. "May I have a look?"
Daphne nodded, and Marion didn't waste any time summoning her magic to seal the half-moon-shaped wounds on the heels of her daughter's hands. It was surprisingly hard to keep her movements slow and steady and her magic on a low setting when the worry was eating its way down from her heart to her stomach, creating a bigger cavity for her Flame to rage in.
"There you go", she proclaimed with mocked cheerfulness and a smile, as if the narrow streams of blood that had already begun to coagulate even before her interference had been her biggest concern. As if Daphne was still a small child to whose well-being cuts were among the greatest of threats.
Marion's heart twinged at the careless thought. Nostalgia was a slippery road; one wrong move and she'd go from bittersweet to plain bitter.
She couldn't decide who she was angrier with, the world for having subjected her baby girl to such horrors that mere physical damage was barely significant anymore, or herself for not knowing how to treat wounds inflicted by memories rather than sharp objects.
She hated feeling useless. As a queen, she constantly had dozens of things to oversee, decide, and take care of. As a mother, she only had one goal – to keep her children safe. It didn't matter how many other things she had done or would do right in her life; she had failed at the one purpose that mattered to her more than anything else.
"Honey…" Marion hoped that the endearment would work like its literal counterpart and counteract the bile that had risen halfway up her throat. "Do you think you could stand up for me? We should get you somewhere more comfortable. It's warmer inside, too."
Marion hadn't mentioned it, but she'd made a mental note of how cold and clammy her daughter's hands had been when she'd grasped them. They felt warm to her now, thanks to her Dragon Fire, but her magic couldn't help with stabilizing the tremble of Daphne's fingers tucked inside her own.
Sick to her stomach from the symptoms she had never expected to recognize from her child – even when it meant that at last, she knew what to do – Marion breathed a sigh of relief when Daphne met her eyes, agreeing to being moved. Marion helped her up from the marble floor, clued to her side for emotional reasons as well as for providing warmth and physical support as she guided Daphne into her room and onto her bed.
Carefully wrapping an arm around Daphne, Marion sat next to her and counted her breaths to give herself something to focus on while she waited for Daphne to regain her sense of surroundings.
When Daphne had been a baby, she hadn't calmed down in anyone else's arms. The thought still brought a subconscious smile to Marion's face, no matter how many years had passed and how often she'd gotten to repeat the bedtime routine back then. She had been so overwhelmed by and in awe of how Daphne's inconsolable crying had stopped as soon as she'd been transferred into her arms that she hadn't even thought to make fun of Oritel for his panicking. Daphne had felt safe enough with her to fall asleep; Marion had never felt more special in her life. Even after Daphne had grown old enough not to require her singing or bedtime stories to fall asleep, Marion had routinely checked in on her every night. Since she had no longer had a solid reason to stop working at a reasonable hour, there had been days that had run so long that Daphne had already gone to bed when Marion had been dreaming of doing the same. Those times she'd peeked into her daughter's room, leaned on the ajar door carefully so as not to wake her, and simply watched her sleep. It had been soothing. Daphne had been safe from the harms outside the palace walls and safe from the expectations and critique residing inside them.
The tragedy was that the palace hadn't been safe after all. Marion couldn't in good faith blame anyone for that when the whole Magic Dimension had been compromised, but she hated the fact that the Ancestral Witches had taken the one comfort she'd been sure of. The war had infiltrated her home and threatened her family, but at least during those small, precious moments, Marion had been able to convince herself Daphne had been safe.
She wished it was still as easy as picking her daughter up onto her breast.
Not wanting to make Daphne feel confined, Marion simply brushed her free hand lightly against the former's thigh. Encouraged by the way Daphne's gaze was drawn by the gesture, she spoke. "Do you feel like you can breathe now?"
Daphne nodded.
"Good. Do you know where you are?"
Another nod.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Marion asked. She didn't know what she was more desperate for, information or to hear her daughter's voice.
Daphne was silent for a moment before whimpering, "I don't know."
Marion swore she could feel her heart slowly ripping in her chest and falling to her stomach, too heavy for the veins it was suspended from.
"It looked like you were having a panic attack."
Daphne turned to watch her with wide eyes. The confusion was to be expected, but Marion hated the alarm in them.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of", she hurried to assure, taking one of Daphne's still-shaking hands into hers. "And it's not dangerous, either. It's simply your mind deceiving your body and causing it to react as if you were in danger. I promise that you're safe, honey."
Daphne looked at their joined hands. "I know", she said, sounding sincere. "Bloom broke the curse on Sirenix."
Internally, Marion shook her head at herself. Daphne had sent Bloom away to save her, not in hopes of her returning the favor one day. Yet, that was exactly what Bloom had done. The fact that she'd managed to free her parents from Obsidian was just a bonus; the real salvation for Marion was both her daughters alive and well.
Looking at Daphne's frail form next to her, Marion bitterly mused that "well" might have been pushing it. But now that she was free from Obsidian, she had the chance to change that. And she would.
"Was that what you were thinking? About the Sirenix curse?" she asked gently.
Daphne swallowed. "I went to the balcony to gather my thoughts. I was so happy to have reachedmy Sirenix again. For the first time in a long time, I felt proud and- and capable", she exhaled with wonder in her voice. "And then suddenly I was just… Helpless and in pain. Alone."
Aware that it would've been the worst reaction imaginable, Marion gathered all her strength and didn't turn away like her mind was screaming for her to do – to feign ignorance in the face of the second-hand torture she was going through because of loving Daphne so.
She squeezed Daphne's hand. "You're not alone."
"I know." Daphne gave her a weak smile. "I tried to tell myself it was only my imagination."
Marion drew circles on Daphne's palm with her thumb. "Has that got something to do with how you scratched your palms?"
She'd seen Griffin do it – hurting herself to try to ground herself and refusing Marion's help until she'd threatened to tell Faragonda unless Griffin let her heal her.
Daphne tilted her head down. "I was trying to feel something", she murmured, sounding too ashamed for Marion's liking. "I- I couldn't breathe. The air just went through my lungs… As if I was back to being a spirit."
It was Marion's turn to forget how to breathe. Daphne had never looked smaller or more miserable than she did at the moment, trying to curl in on herself. Marion felt a pang of guilt as she realized how young Daphne still was – she would always be her baby girl, but even as a small child, she'd acted so far beyond her years that Marion was suddenly hit with the uncomfortable doubt of having taken advantage of that. Naturally, she'd worried about her daughter's tendency to carry the world on her shoulders, but over time, and especially once the war had started, she'd just been happy to have help. And once Bloom had been born, Daphne had become invaluable… She'd volunteered, of course, but Marion wondered if perhaps she'd been too eager to accept the offer. She would forever be grateful for how hard Daphne had fought to keep her little sister safe, but maybe if she as a mother had found someone else to entrust Bloom to, Daphne could've fled from the Ancestral Witches instead of having to engage them. Maybe they could've avoided the Sirenix curse altogether like that.
Then again, she didn't know enough about curses to be certain it would've broken once the witches had been defeated. Maybe it was just easier to blame herself than to accept how irrelevant and useless she was in the face of her daughter's pain.
"It's all right", she croaked, even when it was far from it.
Daphne nodded, eyes glued to her lap. Marion stayed silent, letting Daphne sort out her thoughts. Her patience was rewarded when Daphne spoke unprompted, a soft whimper that made her heart bleed.
"I'm scared, Mama."
"Of what, darling?"
Marion hated to ask, but it was important for Daphne to say it. Daphne didn't let anyone see her problems – not because she was afraid of her parents' reactions but because she knew what they would be. She hated to cause pain, so, knowing it hurt the people she loved, she hid hers. To break the cycle, Marion pretended that she didn't notice nor that she was upset that Daphne did that. But she loathed the situation and couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if Daphne had learned from examples and not hypocritical words. Oritel was too proud to show weakness whereas Marion herself was still afraid of the judgment her own parents had bestowed upon her during the rare times she'd let her façade break.
Daphne shook her head. Marion frowned. She had done everything within her power to establish the kind of relationship with Daphne where her daughter wouldn't ever hesitate to talk to her. And while Marion had no illusions about Daphne telling her everything – proven by the latter's private plan of transferring the Dragon Fire to Bloom – she did imagine that the rare secrets kept between them were for reasons other than Daphne not feeling comfortable telling her.
"You can tell me", she coaxed anyway.
Daphne stubbornly avoided eye contact, pinching her lips together. Confusion flooded Marion's mind, the waves holding the alarm at bay. And then she noticed the flush rising to Daphne's face.
Marion had cried out her fears in Oritel's arms. Daphne hadn't had anyone.
Angling her body so that she was facing Daphne, Marion nudged the latter's jaw with tender fingers, calling her name. Met with resistance, she repeated with more force, "Daphne, look at me."
Daphne did, guilt written all over her pinched expression and shimmering eyes.
"It's all right." Marion kept her voice soft, the kind she'd used when soothing her little girl after a nightmare. "Let it out."
Daphne lifted her chin, managing to look fierce even if she was also visibly doing her best to keep her lower lip from quivering. "'Like a dragon's, it's not in a royal's nature to weep.'"
The line – one that had fallen from Marion's mouth countless times but one she'd sworn never to use with her daughter in the hearing range – shot shivers down Marion's spine. She took a breath, fighting to stay out of her own memories as she cursed her mother's ghost still haunting them.
She lifted a hand to Daphne's cheek. "You're right; dragons and royals do not cry. But people do."
Daphne's exhale was shaky, the twitch of her shoulders causing the tears that had welled in her eyes to fall.
Marion swiped her thumb across Daphne's cheek gently. "Oh, sweetheart."
Daphne tipped her head down, needing no further encouragement; muscle memory kicked in as Marion gathered her crying daughter into her arms, pressing kisses to and whispering sweet words into her hair.
On the inside, her body was ripping itself to shreds and melting her organs into the tears she didn't allow herself to shed on Daphne's behalf.
Seeing her daughter in pain never got easier. The first time Daphne had fallen down while learning to walk, Marion had been tempted to set the floor on fire. She hadn't, instead kneeling down on it herself to console her. Some minutes later, Daphne had already forgotten all about the ordeal as she'd cheerfully repeated the new trick and kept falling down on purpose – while Marion had nothing but, mulling over yet another realization of motherhood.
The ache in her chest had refused to relent until Daphne had been smiling again. Setting the floor on fire as revenge wouldn't have achieved that. Nor would it have been beneficial in the long run since it would've deprived Daphne of the chance to learn an essential skill.
Trying to control the situation was useless. What she needed to focus on was her daughter. Through every scrape and scratch, every cutting comment and unfair expectation, every moment of frustration, disappointment, and loss, she'd wept behind a mask of resignation. Even now, decades later, nothing had changed.
And yet, through all the pain that refused to be shared and seemed only to copy itself onto Marion instead of transfer, she was glad. She'd give everything to erase Daphne's pain, but in reality, with turning back time not an option, there was only one way to keep her from feeling it. At least Marion was able to hold Daphne in her suffering – she wouldn't in death.
Once Daphne's hiccups seized, she pushed herself up. Without thought, Marion's hands flew to cover Daphne's, taking over the brushing of the remaining tears on her cheeks. She made sure to keep her movements slow, not rushing her daughter to hide herself or make herself "presentable" as her upbringing would surely be screaming at her to do.
"Put it in words, it helps", Marion said softly. "What are you scared of?"
Daphne drew a breath. Her eyes danced on Marion's face, as if looking for something; Marion wasn't sure what, but after a pregnant pause she seemed to find it. Her voice was tight as she confessed, "I'm scared of finding myself back in the lake."
Marion had expected something along those lines, which was why, even though her heart was busy collapsing in on itself, she managed to continue somewhat calmly, "Go on, darling." She was also, despite herself, morbidly curious and parched for information on the 20 years of Daphne's life – if one could call it that – that she'd missed. "What do you remember from it?"
Daphne dropped her gaze back to her lap. "Not much. I wasn't… conscious. Or I was, but not entirely." Her fingers twitched, and she crossed her hands to keep them still. "I couldn't tell the difference between reality and my memories. Clarity was only possible when I was in the lake, so I tried to stay… as an apparition. I was desperate not to forget, but the memories hurt, and staying visiblewas so exhausting." Her last sentence was barely above a whisper. "It was easier to disappear."
The confession coated Marion's stomach with lead. Unable to resist the urge, she reached out, running her fingers through the ends of Daphne's hair that were resting against her upper back. Just to make sure she wasn't going to disappear.
"That sounds terrifying." She forced the words out, mindful of validating Daphne's fears even when she lacked the vocabulary to express the vastness of the described horror. It was no wonder Daphne was traumatized – in actuality, it was remarkable that she was able to function as a passable member of society, let alone as one with her status.
"You were so brave to try to cling on to life", Marion continued. She couldn't stop her breath from hitching. "Even when it hurt."
Daphne turned in a split second, alarm written all over her face. "I'm sorry, Mama, I didn't mean to-"
"Honey, no", Marion said vehemently. While some of what Daphne had described hit close to home, her own distress didn't come close to what she felt on behalf of her daughter.
For twenty years, Daphne had fought to preserve the tethers that had tied her to life. Two decades had passed, and she hadn't given up. She hadn't been allowed to cross over, the curse robbing her of the choice between life and death and placing her square in the middle, but per her own words, disappearing would have been easy; Marion was sure that with time, Daphne could have let herself float into inexistence that would not have been much different from actual death. She'd stayed despite there not having been anyone to call to her in the realm of living – her little sister having forgotten her existence and the remaining Company members assuming she'd died.
Obsidian had been a similar limbo. The difference was that while Marion had been dead in everyone's eyes, she had been regrettably animated in her own. The dark magic had dulled her senses, but she'd been conscious for every excruciating second, plagued by her thoughts. She had gotten through by balancing on the thin line between despair and hope, not daring to wish her daughters had survived with their home planet destroyed beyond repair and yet unable to stomach the thought that they hadn't. The only direction into which to escape the screeching of the Ancestral Witches had been inwards. She'd buried herself in the small spark of magic left in Oritel's sword. For 17 years, she'd been utterly alone – but at least with the knowledge that Oritel had been near and known that she'd been there.
The Ancestral Witches had set out to destroy Marion. With Daphne, they'd all but obliterated her. It was a fate worse than death, vile and cruel. Had Domino survived, rumors would have had Marion going down in flames, a befitting end to a warrior, while they would've forgotten about Daphne, completely unaware that she'd been their savior.
Daphne was her greatest legacy; Marion couldn't care less about her own reputation in the history books, but trying to erase her daughter's existence, she took personally. Daphne, if anyone, deserved to be remembered and missed.
Daphne bit down on her lip, hesitating. "What was it like for you?"
Marion was still mindlessly playing with the ends of Daphne's hair. "It was… a little different."
She held her breath, struggling to burden Daphne. It was terrible enough that she had experienced one type of hell; Marion didn't want her to learn of any others.
"Mom."
Daphne's gentle admonishing forced Marion to look at her. She smiled sheepishly, called out for hypocrisy. "I didn't have a physical existence as you had", she disclosed. "In some ways, when I bound my magic with your father's sword, I became the sword."
Whereas Marion hadn't been able to move, her body adopting the characteristics of the object she'd been tied into, Daphne had been able to move but hadn't felt it, impervious to the likes of friction or resistance.
Marion stopped herself short from wondering which had been worse. There was nothing worth comparison.
"Could you still feel it? Your magic", Daphne added, as if ashamed it needed clarifying.
As if summoned, the Dragon Fire flared to chase away Marion's shivers from the implication. Daphne's magic had been weakened by the Sirenix curse and the loss of Dragon Fire. (The sacrifice was still something Marion recognized only on a factual level, unable to reflect on it without panic overtaking her.) Obsidian had rendered Marion unable to access her magic, but it had still been present as ever inside her.
"Yes."
Daphne fell silent. "Do you think", she started timidly, "that the reason I couldn't access my Sirenix at first was mental? I tried, I truly did. But… maybe I was scared?"
"That would be a natural reaction", Marion said softly. Daphne's Sirenix had, after all, caused her "death" and was intimately connected to her family being torn apart and her planet destroyed.
Daphne frowned. "It's stupid. I'm the Nymph of Domino; it's my job to keep us safe."
"And I'm incredibly proud of you for that. You did save the day today. But Daphne, honey, you're not alone. Bloom and her friends did pretty well, and your father and I have a few tricks up our sleeves, too", Marion smirked. "So, it's not all up to you. You have help."
"I know." Daphne sat up straighter. A flicker, unsettling in its inscrutability, wavered behind her eyes before she ducked her head, as if to hide what she was about to say next. "Only during the war…"
"We forbid you from helping."
Marion's tongue felt like one big ice cube; the words came out clumpy.
Daphne nodded, still looking away from Marion, but her hand shot out to wrap itself around the latter's wrist. "I could never blame you for anything, Mama. I hope you don't, either."
She hadn't managed to keep Daphne safe, and that was a regret she'd take to the grave. But she wasn't convinced that letting Daphne join the war efforts would have been better. Marion had meant what she'd said – she'd always been incredibly proud of Daphne and constantly amazed at her magical prowess and thirst for knowledge. She'd spoken at length with Griffin, agreeing that letting Daphne join might have been enough to turn the tide of the war. But winning would have come with too great a risk; the worst-case scenario at war would have been much more permanent than the Sirenix curse had proved to be.
"It's a mother's job to protect her children. I won't apologize for that." The words were heated enough to melt her frozen tongue; she saw Daphne's shoulders stiffen. Pulling at her hand until it slid between Daphne's fingers so she could hold her daughter's hand, Marion continued more softly, "But I realize that in doing so, I may have made you feel insignificant, and for that, I'm so sorry, Daphne."
Daphne made a point of finding Marion's eyes with a smile that didn't quite reach hers. "I never believed that to be your intention. But I appreciate that."
Marion squeezed Daphne's hand. "And since I'm apologizing", she said with a self-deprecating huff, "I was also wrong for arranging the ball before you felt comfortable with it. I should've waited."
Counselors and public image to be damned.
"That might have taken a while", Daphne lamented. "It still feels weird to have my body back. It feels weird to… be back."
It shouldn't have, but the world had been backwards ever since the war.
"It'll get better", Marion comforted.
"How long did it take for you?"
Marion tilted her head in thought. "I can't say. It was gradual; I barely noticed near the end. One day I woke up and… realized I felt like myself again. It's a big adjustment. You've gone through trauma, physically, magically as well as mentally." She hated to bring it up, but she'd learned the hard way that mincing words was unhealthy. "It's not something that goes away overnight. And while time won't heal all, it will get better."
"What did you do?" Daphne asked carefully. "With all these feelings – I can't get them straight."
"I embraced them."
Daphne's raised eyebrow was merely a shade from sardonic. Marion chuckled.
"Yes, it did require some prompting. Mostly from your father and Faragonda."
She'd been shocked to find her magic distorted after her return from Obsidian. At first, she'd thought it an aftereffect of the oppressing dark energy she'd been surrounded with and expected the problem to solve itself spontaneously, but even after months, her control still hadn't returned to normal. She hadn't spoken to anyone about it, but Oritel had noticed her distress as he always did and told Faragonda. (Marion was sure the latter had then consulted Griffin, which had partly been why she had kept it to herself – to avoid adding to the burden that her resurrection had already brought on to everyone.)
But confronted by her loved ones, she'd then been forced to confront her own feelings. The anger had been white-hot and seared through her bones, but unleashing it on the unfortunate vegetation of some remote corner of Domino had soothed her Dragon.
"I know it's not what you're used to doing", Marion said, feeling the guilt of the title and responsibilities she'd passed on to her daughter, "and that as fairies, we're inclined to find the bright side of everything. But there are times when focusing on the positive isn't enough. You can't blatantly ignore the negative."
She shook her head and continued. "I tried that. I was just so grateful to have my family back"–she reached to caress Daphne's cheek, matching her gentle smile– "that I didn't want to waste time on anything else. But I needed to, and I think you need to, as well. So whatever it is you're feeling – fear, anger, bitterness – let yourself feel it."
"I know", Daphne sighed. "It's just…"
"I know, darling. It's scary to let go of the gratefulness. But I promise you, the universe won't punish you for it. It harbors no ill will against you." She was rehashing a script she had gone over with Griffin so many times during the war that the lines came to her practically automatically. She'd never managed to convince Griffin, but she hoped with all her might that she would manage to convince Daphne – her sweet, dear child who had the kindest soul she'd ever encountered – that she'd done nothing to deserve her fate.
"It doesn't?"
Marion had never heard such a tone from Daphne, but she refused to flinch. "No. What happened during the war was not some cosmic retribution. Everything that happened was because of greed and ignorance." She reached anew for Daphne, pushing locks of hair behind her ear as she murmured, "What happened to you was incredibly unfair and the people responsible are no longer around, so you don't have anyone to hold accountable. Find something to blame if you need to, but do not aim it at yourself."
Marion would offer up herself if that would help, though she doubted Daphne would accept. She waited in agony for what felt like hours but couldn't be more than minutes given she'd inadvertently held her breath, for her words to sink in.
Finally, Daphne's shoulders released their tension. "I trust you're right, Mom", she said quietly.
The words had relief flooding through Marion, not just because she'd gotten through Daphne but also because Daphne still trusted her; she hadn't turned cynical enough by what she'd gone through to have lost the belief in her parents that came preinstalled in every child. She still deemed her mother worthy of that trust.
With an internal sigh that threatened to collapse her lungs, Marion bitterly remembered that she wasn't just a mother to Daphne. She hated to think of them as such, but the girl sitting next to her on the bed she'd tucked her in hundreds of times was also her successor, the future Queen of Domino.
Or she had been, before that, too, had been torn from her.
Marion hesitated, unable to voice the question outright. "Now that you're back home", she began, a flicker of warmth lighting her chest at the reminder, "I need to ask you if you're ready to take back your place in the line for the crown, as well."
Daphne dropped her eyes to her lap as if she'd been caught looking at something forbidden. "I'm… not sure I'm ready right now." She drew a breath. "But yes, I will be ready, soon."
Marion's heart ached. "You don't need to if you're unsure, Daphne. I know it's your duty, but-"
"Mom", Daphne interrupted. "You're right; it is my duty. But it has also always been my honor. We got our family back and our kingdom back, and I'm not leaving either one." There was fire behind her eyes, as if she still had her Dragon Fire. "Besides, with Sky ruling Eraklyon and Bloom's relationship with him… I couldn't ask her to take my place."
"I wouldn't either. But there are some distant relatives…"
"Mama, no", Daphne chuckled, clearly seeing how she had hated to offer. Marion hadn't expected Daphne to accept; they shared the feeling of responsibility over Domino.
"All right", she relented. "Thank you."
Thanking someone for not shirking their responsibilities – Marion's mother would have showered her daughter in wrath for such pliability. Marion sent a defiant shrug to the heavens. However, she needed to make sure Daphne didn't repeat her mistakes.
She claimed eye contact. "Daphne, honey, I need you to hear this, it's important. There will be times when you can't afford to think about yourself. When your kingdom or, Dragon willing, your daughter will need to come first. But those are not as often as it feels."
Daphne bit her lip. "How do I recognize them?"
Marion gave her a gentle smile. "It takes strength. And insight and compassion. All traits you possess. You're wonderful, and one day you'll make a wonderful queen, too."
"I'm glad you think so", Daphne said, clearly abashed. She flicked an invisible speck of dust from the bedspread between them before lifting her eyes back to Marion's. "Are you all right? I know it's been a few years already since you and Dad… came back, and you picked up right where you'd left off. But are you all right with being Queen again?"
Marion smiled, squeezing Daphne closer to her. Her daughter was the sweetest, most considerate person she'd ever met. It wasn't boasting – nor was it always a good thing. Marion could never consider burdening Daphne with her problems when she seemed to crave to carry everyone else's worries on top of her own.
Marion pressed a kiss to Daphne's hair. "I'm all right, darling."
It hadn't been easy, and truthfully, any resemblance of normality that Marion had managed to regain into her life had been swept away by Daphne's resurrection – not that she wouldn't have sold her soul to the Devil himself in exchange for Daphne's life.
She would've done anything for her daughters. The only upside – even if it felt paradoxical to use that word – to Obsidian had been the chance to just be a mother. Naturally, Marion had worried about Domino's fate and felt guilty for abandoning her people, but in the dark, with nothing but her own worst fears and regrets to keep her company, her thoughts had been consumed by her family. And there had been no one around to judge her for that.
She hadn't been allowed to resume such prioritizing after her resurrection. Even with Bloom, Marion had needed to assume the role of a queen, making sure Domino had a new heir in the wake of Daphne's quasi-passing. Bloom had stepped up admirably after the initial shock, but it had always been clear that she hadn't enjoyed the idea (more like dreaded it). Marion had asked Bloom – just in case – about offering the title of crown princess back to Daphne, to which Bloom had agreed in a heartbeat, seeming genuinely happy for Daphne in addition to being relieved to be able to relinquish the responsibility. Marion would've chuckled at the enthusiasm if the sudden doubt of Daphne having viewed her title with the same loathing but having hidden it better hadn't started to gnaw at her.
Luckily, Daphne's easy reacceptance of the role she'd been born into had laid those fears to rest. Although her eldest daughter was dutiful to a fault, Marion trusted that Daphne wouldn't lie to her.
She was yanked from her thoughts by Daphne's quiet call.
"Mom?"
Daphne hadn't sounded as hesitant since the last time she'd woken her parents up in the middle of the night claiming that there was a monster behind her window. She also refused to look at her. Marion didn't know how to brace herself for what would follow.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
Daphne took an unsteady breath. "I no longer have the Dragon Fire, Mama. Do I… Do I deserve to be on the throne without it? The political climate has changed in years past; Domino should have a strong leader."
A lifetime of learning to control her emotions, and Marion still couldn't stop the tears from pricking her eyes or the gasp from hitching in her throat. How could Daphne even think like that?
"Oh, Daphne…" She hooked a finger under her daughter's chin, lifting it to meet the world that handled her precious child with so little care. "I can't think of anyone more deserving than you. You may have abdicated your role as the Guardian, but you've more than earned your right for the crown."
"But I-"
"You gave up the Dragon Fire to protect it. Despite what it would cost you. I…" Marion faltered, but her maternal instincts overruled the teachings of her own mother; she told Daphne the ugly truth. "I don't think I could've done the same. Luckily, you were stronger than me, honey."
Daphne smiled timidly. "I was worried you'd be disappointed."
"Disappointed?"
She'd echoed the word to process it, not to ask for clarification, but Daphne replied anyway.
"For parting with the Dragon Fire. It was my duty, not Bloom's."
Marion shook her head. "Never. I admit that I was worried for Bloom, but I know you, Daphne. I've always known that wasn't a decision you made lightly."
"I was worried, too", Daphne admitted, to no surprise of Marion's. "You and Grandmother were so good with me. I knew there was a risk that Bloom wouldn't have the same support and guidance. But she's done wonderfully." Her smile dropped. "I can't help but wonder… if maybe this was the Great Dragon's doing. If She'd changed Her mind at some point and deemed Bloom a better Guardian than me."
Marion had to fight to keep her mouth from falling open, struggling to reconcile reality with the shock. Her immediate reaction was to deny it altogether. Deny the absurd idea. Deny Daphne's self-loathing. Deny, deny, deny. The urge to do so was nearly painful. But she'd learned from Griffin's crises of faith during the war that that only risked driving the thought deeper. So, with every cell of her body screaming at her, she forced out a jerky nod.
"We have no way of knowing", she said, wishing that Daphne didn't see the choice to indulge her insecurities as disloyalty. "Technically, we don't even know if you were destined to give the Dragon Fire up or if what you did went against the Great Dragon's wishes."
Daphne swallowed thickly, but there was steel in her voice. "I would still make the same decision."
"I know. And that is exactly why I think that you were chosen."
At Daphne's curious look, Marion continued, "The war had been brewing for decades. It was bound to happen eventually, but there was no specific reason for it to happen right when it did. Unless… the Great Dragon had been waiting for someone special. Someone who'd put the Dragon Fire ahead of herself."
Daphne's expression was deceptively composed – a tactic Marion remembered teaching her, to control one's face to give oneself time to think. Her emotional turmoil was only given away by a brief gasp. Not having expected Daphne to accept the statement just like that, Marion stayed quiet, eyes tightly locked to hers.
Daphne eventually broke the contact, shaking her head as if that would make the pieces of her life fall back into their places. "I don't know how to be this person."
Marion sucked in her lips to keep the cry of agony from escaping them. Every flicker of her magic – and there were many, feeding off of her rampant emotional turmoil – felt like a betrayal.
"You'll learn. This is who you were meant to be."
Daphne had survived. She'd suffered tremendously and come back weaker, but she had come back. She'd been trialed with fire she no longer possessed. The loss of such an integral part of her magic made her not recognize herself in the mirror, perhaps – Marion dared not imagine being in her place – but in Marion's eyes, she was still her little girl. Nothing she could do could change that. Marion would recognize Daphne even if they were both blind and deaf. Daphne would never be "less" to her mother; not less brilliant or caring or brave. Even when she'd missed the majority of her life force and her corporeality, she'd still been herself. She'd still been there.
Marion would regret choosing her fear above the chance to find her daughters for the rest of her life. She'd left, misled but of her own volition. Bloom had been forced to leave. Daphne had been left behind.
It was always hardest for the one who stayed. Marion had been the one who'd been gone. But she'd still missed Daphne desperately.
Gingerly, as if asking for forgiveness she didn't deserve, Marion ran her hand up Daphne's arm. "I am so grateful that you're back, baby."
Daphne's eyes glimmered as she angled herself closer. "So am I. Don't… I don't want my deficient sense of purpose to give you the idea that it's not an utter bliss to be reunited with my family."
As always, Daphne initiated the hug slowly, merely resting her head on Marion's shoulder, offering the reigns to her mother. Accepting the physical contact, Marion snaked her arm around Daphne's waist and tugged her to her side, melting into the sense of comfort of being able to hold her daughter like she hadn't in so long.
She drew a fortifying breath against Daphne's hair before speaking quietly. "I love you."
She hated the way her heartbeat increased at the stupid words – but the anger paled in comparison to the pain from the way Daphne's shoulders stiffened. Not in surprise but in discomfort at the phrase that sounded rough from disuse. Daphne knew; Marion knew she did. She did. She had to know.
"I love you, too, Mom."
Marion squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to freeze time as her mind was hurrying to paint the moment on her heart for safekeeping. She couldn't remember the last time she'd held her daughters before the final battle. There had been no ceremonious hand-off of Bloom to Daphne as she'd already had her, and there had been no time for proper goodbyes. Marion's family had been whole one second and gone the next.
She extracted herself gently, but Daphne still jumped, blinking rapidly. Belatedly, Marion realized how tired she looked. She slapped herself mentally for not realizing it sooner. It had been an exceptionally long and exhausting day in more ways than one, and she at least was in full health.
Although the Sirenix curse was now broken, Daphne was still heavily affected by the decades of incorporeality. She picked at her food, tripped over seemingly thin air, and slept precious little. Marion understood that the adjustment would take time, and though she was loathe to admit it, she recognized that Daphne would never regain everything she'd lost to the curse, but that didn't stop her from worrying, especially when it seemed that there was nothing she could do to help. She hated peeking into Daphne's room late at night and having her heart skip a beat at the sight of her daughter back where she belonged – only for it to lurch into the pit of her stomach at seeing Daphne have nightmares and not knowing if she should wake her up given how hard falling asleep was for her.
Marion swept a lock of Daphne's hair behind the latter's ear. "You should sleep, darling."
Daphne shook her head. "I can't."
While Marion was pleased that Daphne wasn't trying to hide the problem from her, she didn't agree. "Please try. It'll help, I promise."
"I'm…"
"I'll stay."
Daphne blushed, but she didn't tell her not to. "I'm not a child."
"You're still my child." Marion's tone was warm, but she leveled Daphne with a look perfected over years of parenting energetic toddlers and stubborn teenagers – one she hadn't used in a long time.
With a soft chuckle, Daphne relented.
Marion watched Daphne putter around the room as she changed out of her ball dress, trying to ignore the differences and only focus on the familiarity of the situation. They'd been here so many times. She carded her fingers through Daphne's hair, carefully removing the pins and untangling the waves. Occasionally, if she'd been in a hurry, she'd used magic but otherwise, she'd preferred to do her daughter's hair by hand, enjoying the moment of quiet and intimacy before they'd need to slip into their roles of royalty.
Unexplainably, the urge to use magic was present even now, simmering beneath the surface, but it was a selfish desire Marion would never consider allowing in the current situation. Daphne would have to get used to experiencing the Dragon Fire as an outsider, but there were more immediate concerns; there was no use in torturing her with the reminder at the moment.
(The more private reason was that Marion wasn't sure how much magical intuition Daphne had retained after the loss of her Flame and hence didn't want to take the risk of revealing more than she'd verbally admitted to.)
Marion wasn't healed herself. She'd still randomly taste metal in her mouth and have to flex her wrists to make sure she still could. She'd wake up from a nightmare in the darkness and be unable to calm down until she had Oritel's touch.
She supposed that rationally, two meager years wasn't enough to counter two decades of trauma, but her fears seemed so trivial against hard facts. She was no longer in Obsidian. The Ancestral Witches were destroyed. Domino was restored. Bloom was alive and had found her way back to them. Daphne was corporeal and at home again.
And still, logic could only trump so much emotion. Because it wasn't that she feared everything would go back to how it had been; time only moved in one direction. The cause of her anxiety was how powerless she'd been to stop all of it from happening.
Marion shook her head, plastering on a smile for Daphne's concerned look – a smile that didn't take long to turn to genuine as she sat on the edge of Daphne's bed and started to hum a lullaby from a simpler time. She would bask in the warmth of Daphne's presence till the Sun came up again, would trace the contours of her relaxed face, much more youthful than her past would suggest, and listen to the quiet sound of her even breaths.
Hours later, Oritel found them. She gave him a wide smile but no indication of standing up – nor did he say anything, simply cast a wistful look at Daphne's sleeping form and tiptoed away from the door. Marion loved that he understood. She hadn't been able to protect Daphne from the Sirenix curse or the war. She couldn't erase the trauma or heal the aftereffects. The only thing she could do was watch over her daughter as she slept and hope that her dreams were kinder than reality.
Thanks for reading! Comments are naturally optional but greatly appreciated! c: