#bibabes

In the Protecting Verse:

Joan fell first as she was the single one at the time, and Granny married Luthor Lucas.

And as is all the cases of my pairings no they're friends first, because friendship is the bond that is in my opinion the strongest to form a relationship with.

But Granny fell harder.

Though they really don't talk about it after the...incident that brought them together or at the very least freed Granny from her marriage.

In other verses:

Granny usually falls last becsuse she's more cautious of it being too good to be true, but Joan also is better at hiding any issues because she is a bit like Granny in that she bottles her emotions until she can find a way to say them without hurting anyone.

For the lovely af @sarahtarth.

Bibabes are at it again. No woman in this is straight. All are bisexuals. Don't @ me I'm right.

Enjoy!

——

Circles are said to be unbroken things, to have no end and no beginnings. 

False

When you manifest a circle you must start somewhere, you must begin at one point and eventually return to it to make it whole. 

It must remain round, soft, and consistent. 

Too far on one end makes it an oval, and does not have the same power as a circle. Too sharp makes it a different shape altogether. 

Mistakes ill afforded in the current climate. 

The fae were being pushed to the edge of their world, slaughtered, chained, used and abused as if they were inferior beings to the humans that settled on their lands. 

The fae mostly welcomed the humans at the beginning, a few tricked them and in turn they all were punished for the few fae's choices. 

Fairies, one of the more benevolent fae creatures were the first to turn against their fellows, and thus rewarded as the "best" of them. The kindest, and they played their part, granting wishes and giving tasks to those they deemed worthy of such magic. 

The Dwarves were the last to fall in the wars against the humans, as punishment they were sent to the mines, forced to bear the burden of extracting the dust for the traitorous and to add insult were told that it was their job to do so happily. As if it was not a punishment, as if it was something they've been doing since the dawn of time, of which they had not. 

Sure they had mined the dust, but it was never in servitude, but mutually beneficial to dwarves, fairies and the rest of the fae. 

There were other creatures and they fell between the ones to turn first and the last to fall. 

So many that are extinct now, and some dying at a faster than normal rate. 

And there are some that fall even more so beneath the inferiority of fae to a human. 

These are the halflings. 

Half-Fae and mostly Half-Human. 

Sometimes it would be one fae faction and another. 

Regardless, they were called the same. 

Rare was it that there would be a Half-Fairy, for they usually did not mingle with humans and the one that happened centuries ago, caused more issues than it solved and thus Fairies were banned from reproducing except when the numbers decreased too low but only with the approval of her. 

She doesn't truly have a name—not one that anyone in living memory has anyway—everyone just calls her The Blue Fairy. 

Halflings were not something that could be helped from time to time, rarer as the human gene overrides the fae one. But occasionally, occasionally one is born that should not, and like a wounded animal they must be put down. 

Anita Lucas was such a creature for her pack of wolves were a danger to both fae and humans and as much as Joan did not like it, for to her fae blood was sacred, it must be spread to keep the fragile balance they have maintained all these years.  

Fragile, like a circle, for the relationship would be broken if they did not. The fae being the price as they always were. 

Joan was born what felt a lifetime ago, but when one lived with a longer lifespan than most humans could fathom, but yet still too young to be able to change things—her impatience led to ruin. 

Cursed to be what she hated most because she dared question the fragile balance she felt should not have been made in the first place. 

Halflings got no say, especially not from traitorous stock. 

Still it was what kept her alive now, the hunting and allowed her petty revenge against the Blue Bitch. For she did not just hunt those that threatened the fragile balance, but those that had threatened the family she had left. 

Fairies were traitors, but Rouge dogs were worse. 

It was the only reason she was here in these woods after all this time. She usually would not come, a risk she must take now. 

Perched in the covers of the trees, she watched, waited, steeling herself for taking the life of someone she—

She pushed the thought, that was a life before, this was now. 

And despite everything, she needed to focus. To wait.

Tonight was a new moon, wolves were their weakest then.

———

To the door

Turn 

To the fireplace

Turn

Repeat

Once

Twice

Again and again

Wolves were not meant for cages, nor were they made to be cornered.

Currently she felt she was either.

The restless energy all too familiar, no matter how much Lucille denied that part of her. She could feel the wolf wanting to attack for it smelt blood, but not just anyone's blood. Mate's blood. 

She hadn't had a mate since—but no that was impossible.

Had to be. 

Except there was no denying that sweet smell, her mouth watering as she well recalled other savory parts—no dust. 

Or at least she should have been. 

To the door. 

Instead of turning back to the fireplace, she opened her door finally after five more turns, she needed to find out, to be sure. 

Except the moment she opened it, she gasped at the bloodied face of her once lover, of the woman she thought dust for sixteen years holding a babe in red silk in her arms. But it was not that she gasped at, it was the eyes. 

Completely black eyes, no hint of the hazel she had loved, and sharper teeth then she recalled, glistening in her firelight.

"Joan," she whispered, her eyes following a trail of blood that slowly trailed down the cheek, almost like a tear until it dropped into the open mouth of the child. 

"Lucille," the voice wasn't chipper, was not angry, was not any emotion she used to associate with her lover. 

It was flat, dead, monotone. Devoid of any emotion. 

If this is a face stealer I'll gut them for taking her visage. She thought savagely as she stepped back and made the sweeping motion that the real Joan needed to know she was invited, as she always needed to cross a threshold. 

After all, even half vampires needed to be invited into a home.

"I cannot, I have three wolves after me, I have only a few minutes to drop off the child before I must disappear again, lead them away. You should know, the council will never—"

The woman trailed off almost unsure but there was no emotion on her face, no outward sign she knew anything besides facts. 

The council could go fuck themselves as far as Lucille cared. They were probably the reason Joan never—

"I know. I'll deal with them. Is this—"

Our granddaughter, Lucille longed to say but the emotion caught in her throat quelled the truth. 

"Yes. Anita lives but will never think to return here. Or maybe she will but I figured you would know best how to handle—." 

A transfer of the babe from her once lover's arms into hers. The child was solid, real. The curve of her face familiar. 

There had been hope for Anita to turn her life around, but seeing the sleeping child made her fear for her only child and then the woman that brought her with blood still dripping on her face.

The pale sharp claw-like hand she once knew as familiar as both of hers, hovered over the tuft of black hair. 

"Of course I do," her tone was extra gruff to swallow the pain for she was not yet sure if Joan needed to leave any minute, gone from her life again. 

Gone from their family once more. 

The hand withdrew quickly as if burned by her words. 

"I have to go, she's safe now. And she's like her. I cannot promise I will ever return again, Lucille, but the silk will grow with her, suppress that part of her until she's ready—or you are."

Blue eyes met black, there was a softness to her ex-lover. 

"Do I want to know?"

There were things she learned early on in their relationship that Joan was not as innocent, nor as morally squicked at dealing with the less reputable sort to get what she needed. 

What they needed.  

A quirk of lips, sharp teeth showcased in all their glory. 

"Let me worry about the price of it, Lucille. After all that's my granddaughter too." 

Before she could ask another question the woman's face turned sharply to the left and the familiar sounds of wolves made her pull the solid weight closer to her chest. 

"Barricade," was all Joan stated before she turned away completely and was gone. 

Again. 

———

Years went by as Lucille Lucas, sheltered her granddaughter from the wolves she could hear prowling the woods, that first month.

Lucille has not changed with the moon in many years prior to learning to care for another child, the need to run when it was neigh didn't phase her, but she could feel the magic of the cloth she constantly draped over first a babe, then a child, and now a teenager who tried her patience daily. 

Despite her refusal and disdain for the creature that lurks underneath her skin, she would not wish pain and sorrow and trapping her granddaughter. 

So the evening of a new moon she told Red to come to the table, her box of treasures already there, the restlessness of her own wolf matched the restlessness of her human half. 

"I was married twice," she started, her Granddaughter's eyebrows rose over her sharp features. 

"Once to a man, and once to a woman."

Ruby red lips parted in surprise. 

Her heart poured too fast, so she had to sit, clasping her hands tightly to stop the tremors.

"One is dead and good riddance, the other, I thought so for about sixteen years until she showed up with you— the night you came to live with me." 

Blue eyes meet sharp green. 

"I thought my mother died!" 

"Joan hunted your mother and came to this cottage where we were once happy, and gave you to me to keep you safe from those that would have no qualms to have killed you too for Anita's misdeeds."

Befuddled and betrayed looks made her turn to her box and opening the oak lid. 

It was a finely crafted box, Geppetto had always done fine work, the beds were still as sturdy as the day he carved them. 

And her's—well there were still marks from too many years ago as if they were newly made. 

Wouldn't expect anything less from a Forest Druid descendant.  

From it she pulled the tiny portrait, the only image she had of Luthor.

"This was my husband. He was a child of the moon, free and just as wild as the forest we live in. Bastard murdered my father and my brothers and cursed me to be like him. He died within the first time I turned. A wife and a widow in a full moon's turn." 

She quirked her lips in humor, showing her granddaughter familiar scars against aged skin. 

"But—"

"You are my kin not his. The fae don't reproduce like humans, it's different but similar. Geppetto, human though he is, is also fae descended. Hence his ability to bring his creation of a Puppet to life like a real child, in all the ways that matter to us Fae. Luthor created me therefore I was his wife, but also his child, it's just how the circle continues."

"So my mother?" 

"More complicated. I did not take a child from any mother nor did I turn her. She was from my womb, but her genetics, and yours for you are of her womb, come from a combination of magic far deeper than even I am aware." 

She took the portrait and placed it back. She took out a sketch of a woman on age parchment, she recalled the night she drew that.

Joan had made the deal with the Dark One for a child for her, for despite her curse Lucille longed more than anything to be a mother in the way a human would become a mother. Not a fae.

She never wished for a child to be cursed with her affliction. 

"Joan I met in my thirtieth year, and as I am sure as you are aware by now, the fae ages differently. In fact, I am just shy of my one hundredth birthday celebration though most would think I am half that age." 

Green eyes widened and looked at her in surprise, and disbelief. 

"Regardless, we met and as is the way of things fell in love, and decided to bind ourselves together. She is still my wife, despite no formal ceremony of the village taking place. On our twentieth anniversary she made a deal with the Dark one to make it possible for me to have a child. I have always wanted to be a mother, but your mother…Anita was high spirited and strange for even a child of two fae could be. A halfling they called her for she is not fully fae, nor fully anything. She is at least half human, for Joan is a halfling as well, but on Anita's sixth birthday, she would not quell her opinion to the council, they found out about us, about your mother and Joan was as protective of us as we were of her." 

She felt the burn of her tears, suppressed for many years and her granddaughter held her hands. 

A shaky breath, and a hasty wipe of a withered cheek. 

"I thought they killed her in truth, but no, she was alive when she came dripping with blood to the doorstep, you wrapped in her arms, and the red silk draped around you. You are a child of the moon, Red, you have the choice to hide it or embrace it. I can only teach you so much, I always despised that part of me, the curse he left me with. Anita grew mad in her teenage years and rage poisoned her mind against humans. There was nothing to be done, I know. A mother forced to put down their child like a rabid beast, it was why Joan saved you. A trade. One child…for the other."

"Did she love at all?" 

She pulled her hand away and dug underneath the shells and seaglass to pull out the doll she recalls her wife making the night they found out they were to be parents. 

Red gently held it, her thumb running across the dark haired doll with green gems for eyes, black thread for hair, and a red hooded dress similar in ways that she had not thought looked as much like Red as it had Anita.  

"Love is never ending, never breaking, and Joan loved more fiercely than anyone I ever met. After all, you don't save your grandchild from death if she did not love this family. I have to hope that you meet her one day, Red. That she is still out there protecting us, for hope if nothing else has kept me going all these years." 

Green eyes released the tear to fall against her rounded cheek. 

"Thank you, can I?"

She lifted the doll.

Lucille nodded and squeezed the hand on top of her others. Though she did take back the sketch of her wife. 

She could never be proud of the title after a time, for many years she thought her the same as Luthor. But tonight she reclaimed the title and the pride she had always felt at it before.

It was about time she continued the cirlce. 

——

The war was finally ended and the prisoners, mostly fae that had been captured, released. 

In the darkest cell, there lay a woman pale as alabaster, hair as red as fire, teeth as sharp as claws. And eyes as dark as obsidian. 

A young woman in a red cape came forward with a doll with green gems for eyes, black thread for hair, and red silk with a hood for clothes held out as if in an offering.

"Granny wants you to come home, and so do I, Mama Joan." 

The dark obsidian eyes looked at her, they were fathomless, and the teeth not less sharp as her own. 

"Lucille would—"

"Granny has waited a long time for you to come home to us. Since my mother was six. I do think forty years is enough time for whatever punishment the council forced upon you to act as their hunting dog." 

The lips curled similar to her own when she caught the scent of prey, even when human. 

"The council wasn't what I was referring to, Ruby. Or do you prefer Red, or Eliza?" 

She smiled softly, "Any of those will work, but granny knows what you needed to do, even if you never went through with it. I know, Mama Joan, there is no shame in what you did for your daughter. What you did for me."

The face turned away, a tear fell down a sharp cheekbone. 

"She was a child, our child. I couldn't do it. Even though I knew the other fae would pay, because she was rabid, lost. For a few years I was able to help her, but I left one night, and—"

"And she was responsible for her choices, just as I am. I would like for you to at least come talk to granny. She has missed you as much as you missed her. She has been lonely."

She was not sure about the woman, but she knew her grandmother missed her wife. 

"You're like her, I knew it was the best choice at the time. And I'm just sorry that I could not stay with you two again. A demon is not enough—"

"She is!" 

A gruff, stubborn voice said from behind her. 

Ruby turned quickly and stumbled and a warm hand gripped her arm and it felt as unyielding as the oak bed she used to sleep in. 

"Lucille."

A soft breathless whisper breathed from behind her.

"Joan."

Full of heat and hard edges. 

Ruby looked between them, both unrelenting in their staring contest. 

It was a good thing they all had good eyesight that the dark didn't affect them as much. 

"Ruby, are you in here?" Another voice stated, followed by the flutter of cricket wings from the corridor.

She moved towards the beckoning of her friend. 

"You all need to decide if you're still married or not. Snow will come looking in three hours if you're not back, Granny. Have fun!" She said with mirth. 

A scoff and a laugh followed her through the corridor as she left the adults alone, shutting the cell door as she left the room. 

After all, no one needed to witness such a happy reunion between wives. 

Eliza certainly did not wish to.