TW: homophobia and child abuse (at the beginning of this chapter)
Ellie stared at the neon numbers flashing across Mateo's vital signs monitor. She didn't understand much about medicine, but she knew this much: he had almost died. When they brought Mateo in, the staff had informed them that it was only due to Ellie's healing abilities that he had been able to survive the trip back from Lazuli.
Mateo would, of course, need to stay in the hospital until he sufficiently recovered. As it turned out, werewolves—even with their preternatural recovery abilities—needed professional medical care when severely wounded. Even with a Luna's help.
Ellie took a deep breath. Even if she couldn't fully heal Mateo on her own—whether it was because she hadn't yet fully come into her own as a Luna, or due to the inevitable limitations of even the most competent Luna's abilities—she was determined to help ease her friend's pain. Mateo was unconscious, face flushed and jaw clenched in his sleep from pain. Ellie spread her hands above his chest and searched within herself, trying to recall the same inner strength she had used to heal her mother that fateful night her powers had first manifested.
Come on, Aurelia. Come back to me.
The golden-skinned goddess stood smiling before Ellie. She held out a warm, beckoning hand and Ellie took it; she led her down a starlit lane of half-forgotten dreams and vivid memories. She let go of Ellie and faded back into light.
Ellie opened her eyes to find herself standing before a grand, imposing antebellum-style house. It was a bit after dawn, and at the house's front entrance stood a dark-haired girl, knocking and knocking and pleading at the door. Asking to be let in. Begging to be listened to. Luna, please. Please! Speaking into the silence—despite the silence—anyway.
Kiera.
Heart in her throat, Ellie drifted nearer. It was almost as if there was an invisible string between her and Kiera, pulling them together. Calling to her.
"I know what you want me to say," Kiera was saying. "You're waiting for me to take it back. You're hoping that I was just... just messing around, that I" —her voice broke— "that I didn't really like that girl. That I don't really like girls at all."
Evidently bracing herself, Kiera took a deep breath. She ran her fingers through her hair. It was obvious to Ellie that she had mentally rehearsed this conversation countless times—though no amount of rehearsal could hold a candle to the moment of truth. "I've always seen you as my mother, Luna; you taught me everything I know—among which is to always stay true to myself."
She was so young, yet so brave. If only this weren't a vision of a memory—if only Ellie could stand beside her and hold her hand. Squeeze it in reassurance.
"Well," Kiera finally gritted out, "here's the truth: I could never love a man, Luna. Not as other women do. I wish you could understand that."
The door swung open to reveal a tall, dark-skinned woman with regal air and imperious manner. Kiera stepped towards her with hesitant, halfhearted hope, only for Luna Zahra to stride forward and strike her in the mouth. Stunned, Kiera stumbled back, clutching her face in her hands.
"You are a slave to your desires," Zahra snapped, articulating each word like the echoing gavel of a death sentence. "It's unnatural and, frankly, depraved."
Kiera's head shot up. "Who I am is unnatural and depraved?"
"You'll bring shame to this pack, to me—you'll ruin everything I've ever worked for. How could you be so selfish after everything I've done for you?"
"Selfish?" Blood dribbled from Kiera's quivering bottom lip. "Haven't I always done everything you told me to?"
"You should've done better," Zahra said coldly.
"But I love you!" Kiera cried out, furiously wiping her bleeding mouth. It left a scar-like red smear across her chin. "Doesn't that count for anything?"
Zahra curled her lip in disgust. "Clearly you don't know what love is."
"And you do, Mother?"
Zahra flinched, and then her eyes hardened. "I'm not your mother." She lowered her head—obviously in shame, but whether for Kiera or herself, Ellie couldn't tell. "I've always thought you were destined for greatness, Kiera; I thought you could achieve everything I never could."
"I can, Luna." Kiera's voice was quieter now. The fight had died out of her; her tone edged from defiance to desperation. A last-ditch plea. "I can still do anything you want me to—"
"But I was wrong," finished Zahra, turning away. "And I was a fool to have ever taken you in."
She slammed the door shut in Kiera's face.
Kiera didn't cry—didn't even say anything. She slowly sank to her knees, staring at the shut door in blank silence. Ellie had never known anyone—least of all the strongest, fiercest girl she had ever met—to look so heartbroken. So lonely.
Ellie reeled at the scene she had just witnessed. She'd always known that Luna Zahra was extremely conservative—that much was clear from all the anti-gay policies enforced by the Sanguine Pack over its members and the civilians under its protection. She hadn't known, however, that even the Luna's prized protege was no exception to this bigotry; hadn't even known that Kiera Lin was lesbian at all. But before Ellie could reflect any further on what she had just found out about Kiera's past, she blinked and found herself back at Mateo's bedside.
"Huh," said a voice from beside Ellie as she let the silvery glow fade from her fingertips. "And here I was, thinking you were a fraud."
Ellie turned to glower at Seth, who ignored her as he entered the room and went to the overbed table serving as Mateo's nightstand, holding a small bouquet of fresh red roses. After carefully laying the bouquet upon the table he pulled out a sealed envelope from his coat pocket—thankfully, a different coat than the one he had worn during the invasion, which had gotten irredeemably bloodstained when they broke Mateo out of his cell—and tucked it between the rose heads.
Ellie realized she was staring at him. She'd always been an inquisitive person; some would even call her nosy. "Wait, what's wrong with your face?"
"What's wrong with yours?" retorted Seth, even as he turned away from her.
But Ellie could see it now. There was a distinct bruise on Seth's cheek. It wasn't there when they rescued Mateo, nor when they joined the group Kiera was leading for the invasion. It wasn't there when they reconvened with the party that had attacked Cerul—at least, it wasn't there before the journey back to Cardina. Ellie suddenly recalled that Seth had traveled back with his father, alone.
"Are you okay?" said Ellie tentatively, reaching out towards Seth. "I can heal—"
Seth flinched so violently that Ellie stumbled back, stunned. "Don't touch me!"
For a reeling moment, they stood there staring at each other in heart-pounding silence. Then Seth seemed to realize that he was hunched over, arms raised protectively over his face; he straightened and neutralized his expression.
"I'm... I'm sorry," Ellie said shakily. She was suddenly reminded of how her mother acted around her stepfather at times. And then, to her bewilderment and absolute horror, she felt herself begin to cry.
Shit. "I-I'm not crying," said Ellie, crying even harder.
There was a Kleenex box on the table, right next to the bouquet Seth had placed there. Seth hastily picked it up, only to realize it was empty and slowly set it down again in disappointment. "Okay. Why are you crying?"
"I'm not."
"Want to know what's wrong with my face?" Seth said abruptly. "My dad punched me for letting Kiera lead the invasion instead of me. Now tell me, why are you crying?"
Ellie hiccupped. "Shit. Well, now I obviously can't tell you. How...how am I supposed to top that?" Sweet Aurelia. She had never felt like such a terrible person, such an attention-seeker. "But are you okay?" Ellie added, because what right, really, did she have to cry between the two of them?
Seth sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Do you want me to leave? Should I... should I go get someone? Maybe I should leave—"
"I keep having these visions of the past," Ellie blurted out before she could stop herself, "and I had one just now, and it was of Luna Zahra, and she was so... so horrible. Honestly, I hate her."
"Luna Zahra?" Seth scoffed. "Yeah, she was a homophobic bigot." He paused and, peering at Ellie carefully as if to gauge her reaction to his words, quietly added, "It wasn't easy for people like us while she was around. It still isn't—and to be honest, I don't think it ever will be."
Ellie frowned. "Wait... what? What do you mean?"
"You mean you don't..." Seth hesitated, and then shook his head. "Never mind." He glanced back at Mateo, who had begun to stir throughout their conversation. "I really should go. I don't think he'd want me here, either."
Just as Seth was about to step away from Mateo's bedside, Mateo's hand shot out from beneath the covers and weakly clung to Seth's sleeve. His eyes fluttered open. "Stay, Seth."
"Mateo." Seth's face visibly relaxed. "You're awake."
"Stay," Mateo repeated hoarsely.
Seth gazed at Mateo for a long moment—the silence palpable and eggshell-fragile—before gently shaking off Mateo's grasp and rushing towards the door. Ellie thought he was about to leave without another second thought, but instead, he grabbed the chair beside the door and dragged it across the room to Mateo's bedside.
"I'm here," murmured Seth, clasping Mateo's hand in both of his. "I'm not going anywhere."
Ellie stared at the two of them. She looked back and forth between their clasped hands, at the roses on the table, at the way Seth gazed at Mateo like he was the only thing left in the world.
"... people like us."
Oh.
Oh.
Ellie cleared her throat. "I'm... um, gonna get some fresh air."
☾
The House of Red Ochre was aroar in jubilant chaos. Sanguine, Sanguine, Sanguine! Blood-red streamers and banners stormed the air. Could anything be as joyous an occasion as the defeat—the death—of the leader of the enemy? Everyone knew by now that Kingsley Cyrus, Alpha of the Azure Pack, was dead. What they didn't understand—what Ellie was just now coming to carry in her heart, like a burden—was that he was a father, too: not just a father to two children, but father to his pack.
It was almost dawn by now, and the effects of the long day on Ellie—not quite as tireless as the typical full-blood werewolf—were starting to show. The cheering grated on her ears, its callous cacophony pounding against the inside of her head. She trudged through the sea of werewolves—the most civil of which pretended not to notice her presence (albeit not without some pointed side-eyes and whispers), the least polite of which openly jeered at her. Mutt. Fraud. Weak, weak, weak.
Never mind that Ellie had spent much of the journey back from Azure territory healing the injuries of the wounded. Ungrateful, much? She wondered if she could get away with en masse murder; if she could somehow manage it, then maybe she could plead innocent solely based on the assumption that she was indeed "weaker" than the rest of the pack.
Ellie found Kiera alone, standing by herself in a secluded corner. She paused and studied her from a distance. Other than a scattering of small cuts and bruises along her face and the exposed skin on her arms and legs, Kiera looked relatively unharmed. Her dark eyes were pensive, her long black hair wild and windblown, her red mouth still and somber. Ellie felt like she could sit there and stare for hours at the way the pale early morning sunlight changed Kiera's eyes from inky black to chocolate brown, illuminated the beauty mark beside her mouth just so, draped itself around her broad, muscled shoulders like a regal robe.
"Yikes," Kiera said, and with a start Ellie realized she was speaking to her. "What happened to you? You look awful."
Ellie stepped forward, peering more closely at Kiera's face. "You're one to talk." On second thought, the cuts and bruises looked quite painful. She raised her hands, attempting to summon her healing powers once more, but Kiera laced her fingers through hers and gently lowered them.
"I'm fine, Ellie. You don't need to heal me."
Deciding that she had spent too long staring at Kiera's face to still be given the benefit of the doubt in terms of social appropriateness, Ellie looked down at their interlaced fingers. "You look more awful."
"And you," said Kiera, withdrawing her hands from Ellie's, much to her disappointment, "look like you're about to pass out. How many people have you healed already? Don't you know you have to save some for yourself? Maybe you should get some rest." She suddenly leaned in and narrowed her eyes. "Are you okay? You look like you've been crying."
Ellie grimaced at the memory of bursting into tears in front of Seth in Mateo's hospital room, unprompted and completely uncalled for. It was probably something that would keep her up at night for the rest of her life. "I just have a lot to tell you" —she paused, considering the flashback she had seen of Kiera and Luna Zahra— "and something to ask you about, too." She glanced back at Kiera, trying for a more cheerful expression. "Well, how was leading the pack? They didn't give you any trouble, did they?"
Kiera tensed. "They... They're kind of..." She hesitated, and then huffed out a small laugh, running her fingers through her hair. "Nothing I can't handle."
Ellie felt a barrage of stares prickling the back of her neck, and chanced a quick glance. She couldn't hear what the others were whispering, but could see their mouths form foul, hateful words—could see Kiera shifting away from her, wary and hesitant.
"Do you want a hug?" Ellie asked suddenly.
Kiera's eyes widened in surprise. "What, why? I mean, sure—"
Ellie went in for a quick squeeze—unsurprisingly, it turned out to be rather not-so-quick (but who was she to complain?)—and then linked an arm through Kiera's. "Come on, didn't you say you want some rest? Let's go back to our room together, okay?"