the garden | michael langdon

chapter four; immaculate conception.

*author's note* caution; this chapter contains graphic depiction of childbirth and major character death. also for conveniences sake y'all are gonna have to pretend that myrtle didn't get burned at the stake and then later resurrected mmkay.

*Before the apocalypse...*

Primrose Goode was sat on both knees in the flowerbed, dirt lightly gracing the skin of her shins as she tended to her fledgling rose bushes. She could easily use her magic to conjure up all sorts of plants (she had always been extremely adept at the magical art of horticultural witchcraft), but given that the garden was one of the very few places Cordelia allowed her to relax and play in unattended, she preferred to take the slow path, and let her flora and vegetation grow naturally.

"Oh, what darling rosebushes. Simply divine-looking, dear."

Momentarily tearing her eyes away from her work, Prim looked up and nodded a 'thank you' to the red-headed witch that was watching her amongst the flowers.

"By the way, your mother is asking that you come speak with her in her office. I believe the matter is of some importance."

"Okay, tell her I'll be right there, aunt Myrtle." Prim stood up and dusted the dry earth off of her limbs; these roses would have to wait. Her mother rarely spoke with her in the office as she didn't like to involve her in coven business. Cordelia was intensely protective of her only daughter, her 'miracle baby' she had called her. She knew that Primrose was much younger than she looked, and therefore didn't want to burden her with things she wasn't ready for. She also was insistent that her daughter should have the carefree, loving upbringing she never quite got from Fiona. More than anything else though, she worried incessantly for Prim's safety. Cordelia had spent so long praying for a child, she often thought that if she so much as took her eyes off Prim she might disappear.

Primrose popped her head around the door-frame of her mother's office; Cordelia was sat at her desk, her head propped up by both hands. She was looking off into the distance, her face somewhat contemplative, like she was considering something very seriously.

"You wanted to see me?" Primrose asked, stepping in front of the desk, her muddy hands clasped together around her back.

Cordelia's features softened as she took in her daughter's disheveled appearance. Cordelia liked her best like this, half-feral and hardy and free. It made her appear more like the child she was. Mothers always lament their children growing older, but for Cordelia to see her baby grow so rapidly, well, it had been disconcerting at best.

She knew from the beginning that her baby was not, for lack of a better word, normal. But Cordelia still loved her fiercely, and would die for her if she had to.

After all...

She had already done that once already.

-

"The roads are blocked, they said it's gonna take at least another hour to get here."

It was a late Thursday evening, and New Orleans was well into one of the worst storms it had seen in recent years. While the coven house was protected by magic, the rest of the city was facing almighty wind and rain, the weather was waging war on every street as people were being urged to evacuate.

Cordelia lurched forward from where she sat up against the headboard of the bed, panting wildly through the pain. "I can't wait that long, I need to push now!" She screamed, grasping the bedsheet tightly within her fists.

"It's true," Myrtle confirmed from in between her supreme's legs. "I can already see the head."

"Oh, this shouldn't even be happening! I'm only six months along!" Cordelia despaired.