*Flashback*
Timeline: After Vic's death, before Em's Paralysis.
It had been a little over forty-eight hours since finding out about Victoria's passing and Emily was distraught. Not only was she feeling unwell physically, but mentally she was hanging on by what seemed like an invisible thread.
They occupied the old couple's home they so graciously chose to abandon so that the Queen could hide out. Emily cried herself to sleep earlier that day, only to be startled awake later that night by strange shuffling sounds that echoed in the humble wooden room. The blonde sat up in bed, her eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the dark.
Sniffles could be heard in a dark corner of the room, prompting her to slide out of bed and in the direction of the noise. She barely caught a glimpse of the tall woman sitting with her knees to her chest, her face buried in her arms as she quietly sobbed.
"A-Annabelle?" she didn't trust her own voice to speak.
The queen didn't budge.
Heavily pregnant, Emily still managed to kneel beside the older woman. Her hands were balled into fists, claws visibly boring into the flesh of her palms. Thin lines of blood trickled from the self-inflicted wounds.
"Annabelle," she tried again, holding onto the hybrid's fists. "You're hurting yourself. Please, just look at me."
The queen released a deep breath before meeting her eyes with bloodshot ones. It appeared to Emily that she had been crying for quite some time. She squeezed the woman's hand gently, sighing when Annabelle finally released her fists.
"It's my fault." she finally spoke. "Everything, all of it." Tears fell freely and Annabelle made no moves to hide it. "Death...Death follows me, Emily."
"Anna—"
"No," she cut her off. "We bickered constantly; we fought over things that suddenly mean nothing. None of it meant anything. I never wanted things to be this way—it just happened. I never wanted to be the cause of her pain, but I was." She wiped her bloody palms against the soft fabric of her shirt. "She was the first and only woman I loved. That moody, hard headed, mind consuming, torturous wolf was everything to me." Annabelle chuckled at the last part. "There's a part of me that thinks... her sacrifice was as much for me as it was for you. I know she wanted to protect you Emily—but a large part of her wanted to protect our child, the child could never give me."
Emily's heart felt like it was in a vice listening to the woman's bereaved rant. The anger she held on to slowly fizzled out, the pain she'd felt all those months suddenly seemed minuscule as she watched the woman, she'd originally feared crumble in a way she'd never imagined possible.
"She was your wife and we both know she loved you Annabelle. I've only heard bits and pieces from her own mouth, but it was always how she loved, and was loved by you—despite the hardships you two faced. It's going to be one of the hardest things you'll face, but please...don't beat yourself up like this."
"The guilt...It's been eating me alive." The words were barely above a whisper. Annabelle's body shook as she tried to take even breaths. She felt like the walls were closing in on her, like she was reliving the death of her loved ones all over again.
Emily's soft palm held her face in place, staring into her deep grey eyes. "I'm so sorry Anna...I'm so sorry this happened." She breathed. "I'm here, I'm with you...we'll get through this together."
--
Despite her comforting words, over the next few days, Emily found it increasingly hard not to feel anger towards the queen. It was hard not to blame every terrible thing she'd been through the past months on her. She closed her eyes, blinking back a few tears before rolling onto her side in bed.
Annabelle, sensing the tension chose not to sleep in the same bed. She'd taken up residence on the old couch until reinforcements would arrive to escort them to a safer location. Every time she approached the blonde, she was met with some sort form of hostility, so she only went into the room with meals or when otherwise necessary.
The hybrid was extremely embarrassed at the breakdown she had a few days prior. She promised herself a long time ago, the days of weeping were long done for her. And maybe...it would have continued that way had she not lost her twin flame.
She made a silent promise to herself that night. A promise that she would be better, she would care for the blonde in the way she deserved to be cared for. Annabelle would be fair, true and just, a good mother and an even better Queen—the woman Victoria was elated to marry all those years ago.
After being chased from the bedroom again only moments prior, Annabelle heard a loud thud. She rushed to her feet, barging into the room finding Emily lying unconscious on the floor. Once the girl came to, the realisation that she was now paralysed hit them both like a freight train.
"Are you okay?" Annabelle asked, but received no answer. There was now another battle they would have to face: Finding someone who could heal Emily.
♕
The blonde sat up in bed, the bedside clock ticking away while she was deep in thought. It was past midnight, but for some reason she was wide awake. Her eyes flickered towards the naked woman who lay with her arm draped over the blonde's thigh. Her dark hair like a curtain falling ever so gently over her bare shoulders.
Her light snores filled the room as she slept, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil Emily faced in that very same moment. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, fragile even. The queen in her slumber didn't appear to be capable of harming a single hair on someone's head.
Emily found herself slightly withdrawn since visiting the East Wing. She didn't expect the small suite to have the effect it did on her that day. It simply meant there were things she never addressed; pain buried deep within her that she put on the back-burner to accommodate grief. The women experienced grief together. Grief at the loss of a wife and dear friend. In the constant fight or flight, they never spoke about the things that transpired in those months, the horrors she was subjected to—a lot of it against her will. Is this what love should feel like?
"Anna," She couldn't help herself.
The woman's ear twitched at the sound of her name, sleepily offering a "huh" sound in response.
"Do you believe in soul mates?"
The question caught the woman completely off-guard. She rolled onto her side to face the blonde, silently wondering why there were having that conversation after midnight.
"Hmm..." she appeared thoughtful. "I believe my parents were soul mates." She answered honestly. "The kind of love they shared...I don't think they would have had it with anyone else."
"Do you think we're each other's soul mates?"
Annabelle sat up, an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Why was she asking these questions? "I...don't know."
The blonde remained silent for quite some time before Annabelle spoke again. "Why do you ask?"
She shrugged, "I just wanted to know what you thought."
It certainly wasn't the conversation Annabelle expected to be having after a night of lovemaking. After saying their goodnights once more, it was her turn to lay awake, the younger woman's words replaying in her mind. A few weeks ago, she was ready to confess her love, she was prepared to tell Emily how she truly felt. For some reason, the words never came. She could blame it on not having enough time—she spent her mornings checking on Gideon, and then Victoria almost like clockwork. She was also busier than usual as it was an election year and she wanted to be more involved—but she couldn't wholeheartedly say any of those things were the cause.
Did she believe in soul mates?
-
Giggles filled Annabelle's ears causing a warm sensation throughout her body. It was bright, so bright that she could hardly make out faces. "If you don't stop tickling me, I'm literally going to bite a chunk out of you." Victoria spoke through her uncontrollable laughs.
"You know I love it when you bite." The princess smirked, her arms slithering around the woman's waist. "But, fine. No more tickles." She pecked the she-wolf's lips.
"Nuh-uh," Victoria turned her head, only giving the woman her cheek. "I'm still mad at you."
The taller woman gave her a deep eye roll. "I'm sorry I lied; I was just trying to surprise you."
"I can't believe you pretended to forget our Anniversary." She pouted.
"Keyword being pretended. How could I ever forget the day I became the happiest woman on earth? the day you read those heart throb vows that made me cry like a bitch..."
"You've always been my bitch." The younger woman gave her a sly smile.
"You're the only one on this god-forsaken earth that have said those words...and I'm strangely turned on by it."
Shuffling in bed dragged her back to reality. She had been dreaming or reminiscing, something along those lines. Annabelle watched as Emily yawned, stretching as she left their warm bed. The sun was barely in the sky as the young girl slipped on tights and a tank top.
"Where you off to?"
"I'm gonna check on our boy...then take a walk."
Annabelle's brow shot up suspiciously. "A walk?"
"A walk." The blonde repeated.
"I got him, don't worry about it." She stood, shrugging on random pieces of clothing. "I'll make sure he's fed, don't worry about it. You go take your walk; we'll be right here when you get back." The queen offered.
Emily gave her instructions on how to make his bottle—which she did expertly, adding a few drops of a secret ingredient that kept him satiated. Gideon cooed in Annabelle's arms, his eyes wide open flicking around his colourful, well decorated room.
"Mama's run off," she whispered to him. "She said she's taking a walk but really I think she's trying to get away from me." Of course, she knew he couldn't answer, and certainly didn't understand, but she often spoke to her son like he understood every word.
The two lay in bed, Gideon on his back with a stuffed toy he held in his vice grip of a hand. He tugged on the stuffed animal with what appeared to be minimal effort and its legs ripped right off, stuffing popping out at the seams.
"Jesus christ," the hybrid groaned, gently slipping the poor toy out of his hands. Upon realizing he no longer had his favorite toy, the tantrum started. His shrill cries filled the room in a matter of seconds, echoing against the walls.
Annabelle quickly stood, lifting him in her arms again, rocking back and forth. None of the chiding and 'tut tut tut-ing', or kisses on his cheek helped. The child was inconsolable. She even tried to give him another stuffed toy, which he aggressively tossed out the room's window.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Victoria barged into the room. "I can hear him screaming a mile away.
Annabelle was panicked. For the first time in the seven months of his life, she didn't know what to do. "He ripped the little shit and all I did was take it away." she groaned. "Knowing him, he would have started eating the stuffing."
"Give him here." Victoria rolled her eyes. Annabelle quickly handed her son over, the boy still bawling bloody murder. "Oh baby," Victoria's voice was soft, smooth and soothing. "Your momma's a big meany huh?" she held the boy against her chest, rubbing small circles on his back. Victoria hummed what sounded like an old lullaby, still rubbing the boy's back as he settled, small hiccups replacing his cries.
Annabelle watched in awe as Victoria managed to get the infant calm again in under five minutes. The taller woman stood with her back against the doorway, listening to the lullaby, starting to feel sleepy herself. There was absolutely nothing that woman couldn't do.
The queen knew without a doubt, Victoria would be an incredible mother. She beams at the woman who held her son close, mumbling words of affirmation and kissing his auburn curls between sentences.
Fuck.
--
I just wanted to address some things quickly as we round up. As humans, we can't always control how or when we process trauma. This simply means that a situation can be okay for as long as you manage to ignore the negatives—doesn't mean the negatives i.e trauma don't exist. Emily is coming to terms with that, and realising that maybe she was too quick to move on, maybe she hasn't healed as much as she thought she did—and that's completely okay. She doesn't owe anyone anything.
Annabelle isn't a 'great' person. She's done a lot to redeem herself, but even the it might not be enough. "People's feelings aren't toys". *foreshadowing*.
Thanks for reading another chapter, see you again soon.
Oh, I've been between deciding on an Epilogue...and the answer is yes.-Reese.