#lubell

Harue belongs to @thal-ent

Nym, Micaiah and Myrrah (mentioned) belong to @hel-phoenyx

Sinestri and Ragnvindr (mentioned) belong to @corneille-but-not-the-author

The Spring Queen (trashtalked) belongs to @soupedepates

_____

I am tired. So very tired.

I don’t even register the noise around me anymore. It's routine now, just staring blankly into the void and waiting for the chaos to pass. The kids are arguing, that's for sure, I just haven't figured out about what. I don’t have the energy to care.

“What is going on here?”

I jump. So do the kids. Even Sinestri, who was busy gesturing furiously to her half-siblings, stops. Silence falls as Harue’s massive frame goes through the door.

“N-Nym stole my training sword,” Aravi finally stammers after popping out of nowhere. I’m used to the teleporting by now.

“I didn't!” Nym exclaims. “It was Micaiah!”

Micaiah shoots their sibling an outraged look with their three eyes. I close mine. There it goes again. Myrrah and Ragnvindr were only gone for three days and I already feel like I'm failing them. And I probably am. I…

“Well, just find another one.”

I open my eyes when Harue replies. Calmy, firmly. Aravi pouts.

“But…”

“Aravi, you’ll find that sword eventually. If you truly need another one, we have a lot in the armory. Nym, Micaiah, if any of you did steal it, give it back to them as soon as possible okay? And Sinestri, don’t worry about them. Your mother and I can handle it.”

Wow. Harue isn’t taking any of it today, huh… And that seems to calm them down, too. Nym gingerly sits down next to their twin to play, Aravi huffs and joins them after sulking for a few minutes. Sinestri glances at me before exiting. Her eyes, her other mother’s eyes, look at me with a mixture between worry and disappointment. This could have been over so much quicker if you'd just spoken up, why didn't you?

I don't have an answer for those eyes. I'm just…

“Lubell. Are you okay?” Harue whispers as she sits down next to me.

Even with her sitting on the floor and me on a couch, she’s still taller.

I try to smile. She narrows her eyes in response. That must not be looking very convincing, then.

“Yeah. Just… Tired, I suppose. I’m sorry, I should have intervened sooner…”

“You should have asked me for help sooner, you mean.”

…

Okay, maybe she has a point, but I was not ready to hear that?

“Don't look at me like that, Lubell, you know it’s true.”

“But… They're not your kids. I'm their mother. I should be the one to-”

“It doesn’t matter what you should do. We all live in the same house, and it's hard to take care of a pack all on your own.”

She's right, obviously. If Rag and Myrrah weren’t away, they would already be scolding me. But again, if they were, then maybe… maybe the kids would behave better in the first place, and-

I'm overthinking again.

“You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep scowling like that, Lu.”

“I have four headaches at once and I gave birth to all of them,” I laugh.

But I love my little headaches. Even if one of them is not so little anymore and still has a hard time trusting me.

“I’m just scared that… well… I’ll fail them like I failed Sinestri. And don't tell me I didn't.”

“I don't know. You did what you felt was best for her.”

“It wasn’t though.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. I do too. I mean, I'm with someone who doesn't know how to grow flowers without destroying walls.”

I snort. Poor Queen must be sneezing somewhere in her garden.

“Yeah, and I've been dwelling on that enough, haven’t I?”

“You sure have.”

“Hehe. Thanks, Harue.”

Her eyes glint, and she pats me on the back. The fact that her hand is this huge is comforting.

“You're welcome.”

I smile at her, before I hear small footsteps run towards me. Aravi stands awkwardly in front of me, their eyes all watery.

“Honey? What’s wrong?”

They climb on my lap and bury their head against my chest.

“... I miss dad and mama Myrrah.”

… Yeah. I do too. I hug them as tenderly as I can.

“They’ll be back soon, ‘Vi. I promise.”

“Super promise?”

“Super promise.”

They turn their head to my sungokorn friend.

“Auntie Harue, do you super promise, too?”

She ruffles their hair gently. Aspects below, her hand is almost the size of their head.

“I super promise, Aravi.”

“Okay… Mommy? Can we hug a little?”

“Just a little? Not a lot?”

“I’d like a lot…”

“Then we’ll hug a lot.”

They laugh. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Harue looks on with an endeared look.

I’m not perfect. I never will be. But I love this family with all my heart.

I haven’t seen Szerelem in ten years. That's an awfully long time, long enough for someone to change entirely. She sounded just as I remembered her over text though, bubbly and excited.

She asked me to meet up at 7:30pm in front of the christmas market. It’s bustling with people, but I found a quiet corner easily enough, just by the fountain. I’m wearing the clothes Bronya picked out for me, and the shoes I got from Lenneth. It feels good. I feel good. More confident. Even if my ankles are a bit cold.

I check my phone. 7:36. She's late. That hasn't changed either.

Szerelem was always everything I wasn’t. Messy, wild, impulsive, outspoken, loud. Never compromised, but still cared about what others thought. Sure of who she was and wanted to be. She started using her new name when we were twelve. It was from a fantasy book she liked. Unpronounceable for most, but I learned it by heart. By the time we were thirteen, we held hands and kissed in corners of the schoolyard where no one could see. She kept visiting even though she couldn't come out to my parents and got misgendered all the time. Said that it was worth it if it meant seeing me. My PE grades went up thanks to her, which made my father like her. My mother was never opposed to her visits, but again, I never knew what she really thought. We kept our relationship a secret. Thought we knew everything.

But then we turned fourteen. I stopped going to school. My parents didn't let me see her. When I came back to redo my year, she was in high school, and by the same I reached high school too, she had moved away. We never got to say goodbye, and I never…

“Lubell!”

Someone's running towards me. Bright pink hair, bright blue eyes, intricate make-up, wide smile full of pointy teeth, leather jacket thrown onto a crop top despite the cold. She’s tall, but I'm taller. She’s changed, but not as much as I thought. I saw her pictures when I stumbled upon her facebook page, but it's different to be facing the real thing.

She’s even prettier than before.

She arrives to my level and immediately wraps me into a tight hug, and I give it back almost instinctively. She smells of shampoo and a bit of sweat, because she ran here. God, I missed her.

After a few minutes, she steps back, looks me up and down.

“Oh wow… I can't believe it. It’s really you. Did you ever stop growing?”

My face grows hotter. I wish I had.

“You cut your hair, too!” She adds. “You look amazing.”

“So do you. But aren’t you cold?”

I'm not sure about the shorts and the exposed belly with this weather, even if I really like the vision.

“Hey, aesthetic above anything else, always. But also I’m not planning to stay outside for long. Whaddaya say we go to my place? It’s too minutes away and my roommates are out.”

I nod. In the blink of an eye, we’re in her living room, she’s pouring us some wine and sitting cross legged on the floor. You can tell by the posters of bands she’d never listen to and the flags of countries she has no ties to that her roommates did a lot of the decorating. The shapes on the rug, though, make me think she chose it.

She looks at my outfit, the pendant around my neck.

“Wow. You… really kept it all this time?”

Yes. I couldn’t get rid of it. Went as far as digging through the trash when my dad tried to. But I don’t say any of that. I just smile, and take a sip.

I should tell her. I should really tell her.

“So, what have you been up to?” I ask instead.

“That’s a broad question if I've ever heard one… Well, uh, I moved to my grandparents. Then I tried to get a degree in education but studies were never really my thing, you know, so I took a year off, went to Germany to look for my roots and whatnot, came back, came out to my grandparents, started HRT, got into boxing and now I'm a coach. Veeery quick summary.”

Wow. She's impressive, as always.

“That sounds just like you. I knew you’d end up a teacher or something along those lines.”

She beams.

“Yeah. You always believed in me, Lu, even when no one else did! So, what about you?”

… Ah. Shoot. The dreaded question. My life path is far from admirable.

“Well… Long story short, I got into the army.”

Szerelem blinks, grimaces. I grimace back.

“Yeah. I know.”

“You? In the army? Can't really picture you in there.”

“My dad’s connections did all the work. I went on a few missions abroad, but it was awful, so I asked to be an instructor at military school. That didn’t work out either.”

Can't forget what I’ve seen. Can't changed what happened. No point in dwelling on it.

“I burnt out. Went to live with my sister, and I'm on my way to get a psychology degree since last year. I’d like to… be a legal psychologist.”

Szerelem looks way too impressed. Meanwhile, I just want to sink into the couch. I still haven't told her that–

“That’s great, Lu! Why are so embarassed? You ditched your asshole parents, you’re finally doing what you want, that's worth celebrating!”

She holds up the wine bottle with an impatient grin. I let out a sigh. She's right. Tonight is for celebrating, isn't it?

Maybe I should let loose a little.

There's always time.

______

It's hot. It's so hot.

Maybe it's the wine. Maybe it's the bedroom. Maybe it's her hands on my face, in my hair, her lips on mine, on the exposed skin of my neck, I don't know, I don’t care anymore.

We used to do it discreetly. In school bathrooms, in a park, in my house when it was empty, at night in a parking lot. We were fourteen and hungry and selfish and idiots and in love. All that mattered was that they couldn’t see us. But we don’t have to hide anymore.

Maybe I never fell out of love. Maybe I never stopped wanting this. Maybe I never stopped being fourteen and hungry and selfish and an idiot and in love.

She throws my jacket on the floor, my hand slides under her shirt and her skin is hot and she tells me how much she missed me and I missed her too, I missed her so much.

She kisses me, lets me climb on top of her, press our hips together, all I want is to take off her skirt and my pants and lose myself in her, like I used to, because she still looks at me with the same warm smile and burning gaze and it’s just like how it used be.

Just like…

A cry echoes through the room. Ravil looks on in disbelief, still holding my hand. My mother stares blankly at what the nurse is holding in her arms.

This can't be real. And yet they put her on my chest and it can’t be anything but real.

I stopped moving. It’s like I'm frozen.

It should be the same. It should be.

“Lubell?”

Szerelem sits up, cups my face in her hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything about this is wrong. Even if she didn’t change, I have. I have changed. Something else changed.

It can never be the way it was, and it’s all my fault.

“... Do you want to stop?”

I nod. I want to cry. She lets me pull my hands out and sits on the edge of the mattress.

“Hey. It's okay. I'm sorry if I was too pushy.”

No. No, it's not that.

I want this. I want her.

But first I have to tell her.

“... Lu, please say something. You’re worrying me.”

I gulp, feel the saliva struggle past the lump in my throat.

“I-I’m sorry, Szer. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I told you, it's okay–”

“No. Not that.”

I exhale, shakily.

I have to tell her.

“I have to tell you… To tell you about…”

The words are stuck between my teeth.

I have to tell her.

“I'm sorry. I’m really sorry.”

She looks so concerned.

I have to tell her.

“About what?”

I have to tell her.

I have to tell her.

I have to tell her.

“About the baby.”

________

1st of January came by awfully fast. Maybe it's because I missed the countdown. The streets are busy despite the cold, cheering and laughter all the way around. I take out my phone, to tell Lenneth that I’ll be home by two.

There’s a few texts from Szerelem. I probably shouldn't, but I open them anyway.

Hey Lu

I'm sorry for earlier

I understand why you did what you did

It’s just

A lot to process

I'll get back to you later

Just collectin my thoughts for tonight

Tell me when you're home ok?

I just text back a thumbs up emoji. I could say sorry again, but I think it’d just make things worse.

Well, there it goes. It’s done. I did the right thing and gained nothing from it. My conscience doesn't even feel any lighter.

I feel stupid, shivering in my coat and scarf that hide the hickeys on my neck and the nice clothes Bronya helped me pick out. Bronya. Right. I told her I'd give her an update when uni starts again. Either l lie and I'll feel pathetic, or I tell the truth and I'll feel pathetic.

She probably won’t even be mad. Even though she put so much effort into helping me and it’s been all for nothing. Well. Maybe not nothing. I got to speak to her and I got nice clothes. I can always wear them another time.

But eh. No matter what clothes I wear, I'm still me. It was stupid to think otherwise.

Everything’s different. Or maybe I'm the only one who's different. It doesn't matter.

Maybe the new year won't be happy for Szerelem or me. But I still hope it is for everyone else. For Anya, Dobromiev, Klaus and Hanko. For Bronya.

For Sarai. Wherever she is.

I really hope she’s happy.

A response to @corneille-but-not-the-author because I'm unwell

_______

I wasn’t meant to survive.

I fell again, and again, and again, only to get back up again, and again, and again.

Hey, isn’t this too much? When do I get to stay on the ground? When do we get to rest?

Soren, is that why you think we’re alike? Because we both can't seem to die? There’s no respite for either of us.

The common ground stops there though, doesn’t it? Because you're the evil thing we’re supposed to destroy, because we're the knights. We're supposed to be heroes. We can’t fail this mission.

But who am I kidding? I’m no hero. I’m just a tool in something way bigger than me.

I'm just a lost woman who tries to look fierce when she stands face-to-face with the illusion of the woman her cowardice killed. A lost woman who failed at being a mother. Who abandoned her child just like your mother abandoned you. And yet I'm also the little girl who pleaded for her mother to not let her go into the arena, the little girl who begged for love just the way you’d do if you only let yourself.

Aren't evil mothers a constant in fairytales?

Aren't their victims supposed to become the greatest, as revenge?

Am I not supposed to prove to everyone that I'm not what they made of me? That I'm a hero?

A hero doesn't name the thing they're supposed to destroy.

A hero doesn’t pactise with the remnants of Chaos.

A hero doesn’t try to find a peaceful resolution with the goddess who ate her friends.

A hero kills evil and that's it.

Universe is already writing our story. Our fate has already been decided. The role we've been assigned is hero.

The hero’s choice is simple. Kill you, and save the world and the ones I love. Be passive, let the world be destroyed and lose everything I fought for.

It’s so simple. So easy.

But you look so sad.

Maybe I’d rather be the villain than be doing this.

Why can't the world be wide enough for all of us? Why do we always have to pick a side?

The two women I supposedly saved are both dead.

There is no secret third way.

I can't save you, because you’re not a princess in your tower. You are the Tower and everything around you crumbles.

The least I can do is give you a happy ending.

But nobody’s happy about this, it seems.

It just makes me wonder just how many great heroes cried over the dead body of the person that will only be seen as the villain.

They’ll celebrate me. They'll call me the Chaos Slayer when I'm only the one who put an end to your misery. They'll hate you.

How many heroes actually loved their villains?

They lived happily ever after.

Not all of them.

Some died trying.

I will die trying.

How many heroes actually loved their villains?

At least one.