UsernameEmailRegionInterestAOL IMICQ IDYahoo! IDMSN IDJabber

Her breakfast mostly untouched, Elsie stood and gripped the chair arms when the action cost her more effort than she'd have liked. Truthfully, she'd noticed that simply getting out of bed was getting to be more of a chore as the days passed. She'd tapped out her energy reserves for the better part of a year, so she supposed running on vapours was all she had left for now. Stooping to kiss the curly top of Liam's head, she touched a finger to his nose as the six-year-old squirmed good-naturedly, idly thinking she didn't feel much like a mother. Though she loved him unbelievably, Elsie accepted it as a personal flaw that she must not have maternal instincts for someone who hadn't come from her. Yet it was nearly a fortnight after Elysia, and still, she felt… empty.

No, she corrected as she walked to the nursery she hadn't dared step foot in two weeks ago, Elsie felt angry. For years, she had seen Noël, Eliza, Sophronia, and even Odette get what she wanted most but couldn't ever have. But lycanthropy and children didn't mix, so she'd made peace with it. Elliot was what was vital to her—what she needed—but it still wasn't easy. Instead, she was grateful just for Liam, if he was all she would be allowed. Then when those potions were recalled…

Elsie's fears had never been that it was a monster. How could such a thing be possible when half of its life came from Elliot? Even if it had been born a lycanthrope, they would have managed. What she feared most was that it would suffer. Be in pain. That maybe it was not a life that could be sustained. They'd never been able to learn the sex, and she'd been on bedrest so soon after. Don't get attached, the Healer had said. Her ailing health and the listless movements of the baby at the end suggested she might deliver stillborn, she was told. So Elsie did just that. She tried to hide her fears from Elliot, while discouraging complication-less possibilities. She'd tried her best to appear healthy and unconcerned to Liam. When the nightmare was over, they could work on putting this past them.

Except it never happened. No, she held a perfect, tiny baby girl with golden wisps on her soft crown and big, dark hazel eyes, and that quiet burst of joy had been muted by something ugly. The only problem was a less-than-ideal birth weight, which meant the fatigue, the illness, the complications had been the fault of Elsie and her body, and not of some unknown entity incubating in her. That might have been the harder truth to bear.

They said she was lucky.

How such a word could have been used when they'd been robbed of what should have been the happiest time in their lives, she didn't know. With that baby kicking and gurgling in her arms, all she could dwell on was what had been stolen from her. She dared think of names only once, and cried so hard she thought she hurt herself. Never had she read about parenthood, or infancy. Instead of happily grilling the mothers of her acquaintance for advice, for hand-me-downs, she'd hidden herself away from the world and lied about her condition. A dull, lifeless rage festered inside and made her feel nauseous, enveloping her, a girl who'd only ever known what it was to be sad when life was unfair to her.

Her eyes stung, and that too made her angry, because she was so tired of the tears she'd had no reprieve from for the better part of a year.

Stopping just outside the room, she heard Elliot's voice ripe with such awe and love that her breath hitched. Elsie didn't have a life-altering condition that made it nigh impossible to exist normally, but it wasn't she looking down with reverence at that tiny life they'd made together. Wiping away the tears that were spilling down her cheeks with the back of her hand, she slipped inside. Wrapping her arms around Elliot from behind, she laid her cheek against his back and thought about how long it had been since she could be close to him like this, at least physically. There was so much else to worry about with Liam, the baby, their finances, and the rest of their lives, she didn't want to wonder if she'd been pushing Elliot away all these months, consciously or not, trying to erect walls so she could be strong for him—even if she didn't quite succeed. Her arms tightened their hold.