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It wasn’t supposed to end up like this
They weren’t supposed to find out.
Rosa clutched her weeping bundle closer to her. Her eyes darted across the room like a cornered prey, gazing at the faces of those she once considered comrades who now stare at her like the abomination she was.
Her eyes met her husband’s. He shared an equally horrified expression. She kept her eyes on him. He was her beacon of light in this dire situation they found themselves in.
Balder glanced away, fixing his eyes on the floor instead, and Rosa felt dejected. But, as she focused closer, she could see he was not glancing at the marble floor out of guilt, or regret, but concentration.
She was married to the man long enough to know what the creasing of his brows, and the slight pout of his lips meant. He was planning something, but what could that something be?
When their eyes met once more, Rosa noticed his eyes had a signature fire that she hadn’t seen in a while. Balder discreetly pointed towards the exit with his nose.
Rosa had an idea of what he was about to do, but she couldn’t believe he was even considering it.
But, Balder didn’t give her any room to argue. He summoned a feather imbued with Lumen magic, and launched it at a random pillar in the room.
Rosa, and the room of onlookers gasped in unison. They dashed to subdue Balder, but the sage was relentless, throwing punches, and kicking.
The witch stumbled back in surprise. She knew this was her chance, and she certainly wouldn’t let Balder’s sacrifice go to waste.
So, with a heavy heart, she scampered out of the chaotic hall with a fussy child in her arms.
“The traitor escaped!” “Get her!”
Rosa panicked, and merely continued running with nothing, but her adrenaline-filled veins fuelling her.
She dashed towards the forest as quickly as she could, but she knew her freedom was numbered, and her fate already set in stone. The footsteps were getting louder, and they were accompanied by the steady galloping of hooves.
Her feet were starting to hurt, and her will was fading by the second. She started walking slower, and slower as the footsteps started getting louder, and louder. Until–
Rosa felt something tugging her to the side, and into the thick brambles. She barely suppressed a wince as the bush’s thorns dug into her skin. She made sure to keep Cereza close to her, and away from any thorns that might pierce her sensitive, young skin.
She could hear the crowd zoom past her, and she sighed in relief.
Wait a minute.
Who pulled her in here in the first place?--
The witch couldn’t ponder for long as she was pulled once again, this time out of the bramble bush.
Her eyes wandered upwards, and met… blue.
“Come on. It’s not safe here.”
“What?--”
Rosa barely had time to question, much less get a proper gander at this helpful stranger before she was tugged upwards, and dragged deeper into the forest.
The woman didn’t protest, though. She was glad to be away from the hoard. Besides, something about this woman seemed… familiar; warm, even. Rosa was dying to find out why.
7 years later…
“Cereza, be a dear, and help Morgana fetch some water from the well. Sheba knows that woman’s back can’t handle her carrying anything anymore.”
The child groaned in annoyance, and Rosa couldn’t help, but snicker at her defiance.
“Please, Rosa. I’m not a senior citizen.” Morgana commented, entering the living room with a bucket in each hand.
“No, but you certainly act like one.” Morgana rolled her eyes, and mumbled a flurry of enochian curses as she stepped outside. Cereza followed close behind. As irritated as the girl acted, she secretly loved assisting the older witch with anything.
Always following her like a lost duckling… Rosa smirked, amused at her comparison.
The witch entered the kitchen, slipping on her apron to begin preparations for lunch. She grabbed the freshly harvested vegetables from the charming, little wicker basket they sat in, as well as her favorite kitchen utensil; the knife.
The other women didn’t take long to come back, this time with two fully filled buckets. One was carried by the young apprentice, while the other was carried by her mentor– Rosa still couldn’t believe Morgana agreed to take her daughter as an apprentice. She thought she’d have to teach the child the Umbran arts all by herself. So, she's glad Morgana decided to help.
Just another thing Morgana helped her with.
Morgana’s been helping her for so long… with little compensation.
Rosa paused, her hand stilled, and she gripped the knife she held tightly. Her chest felt constricted with guilt.
Morgana is so wonderful. Rosa is always in awe of her. She took care of her. Hell, she’s practically Cereza’s father in place of Balder.
…Balder.
That’s right.
She still remembers huddling close to the other witch. Her hand gripping, and clawing at the fur of her black robe. Her head tucked in the crook of her neck. She sobbed for hours upon hours, every single day of the week, and Morgana simply held her, while rocking her gently.
She’d stay there for every single minute of those long hours, taking care of her, while Rosa cried about the painful memory of losing her husband.
And what did Rosa help her with?
Cooking a mere meal every now, and then.
She knew Morgana lived through her entire situation. That she’d also lost those she loved. That, unlike Rosa, she’d lost her own child.
She never cried to Rosa about it. Not once.
Rosa felt pathetic.
Perhaps, she should just take Cereza, and leave Morgana alone. It’s what Morgana deser–
“--Rosa, are you alright?”
The witch figuratively flinched out of her own skin. She dropped the knife, and turned to face Morgana with the largest smile she could muster.
The blonde was watching her– studying her – with a concerned expression from where she stood, leaning against the arch of the doorway.
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
The other witch frowned deeper at her response. As if she could sense Rosa’s true feelings. Rosa wouldn’t be too surprised if she could. Morgana was smart. She really admires her for that. More than she should…
“You’ve been staring at those vegetables for five minutes straight. I was worried you might’ve found a family of maggots in there.”
Rosa’s eyes widened.
“Oh, no. The vegetables are splendid! You have one hell of a greenthumb.” And Rosa meant it. Morgana was something else with plants.
She thought that would deflect Morgana’s worries. As nonchalant as the older woman acted. Rosa knew she secretly loved getting praised. Especially with her plants, but no. Morgana still frowned. In fact, she looked even more worried.
“Then… What is bothering you?”
Rosa gazed away sheepishly, her eyes not daring to meet Morgana’s. The other witch came to her side, and intertwined their fingers.
Rosa couldn’t help the soft pink that dusted her pale cheeks at the innocent gesture.
She sighed. There was no hiding it. Morgana wouldn’t stop until she found out, anyway.
She was persistent, and so damn caring…
“I’m sorry,” She began, her voice as quiet, and weak as the squeak of a mouse.
Morgana arched an elegant brow at her seemingly random apology.
“What for…?”
“You… You’ve always helped me, Morgana. You offered my daughter, and I a place to stay, and you were always there for me when I remembered… Him. I-”
Her voice cracked with unshed tears, and the other witch merely gave her hand a supportive squeeze. It gave Rosa the courage to continue.
“I’ve never done anything for you… You put your life, your freedom in danger by harboring us, and I can’t even repay you for it!”
Morgana’s silence was deafening to the witch.
“I barely know what happened to you for Sheba’s sake… I-I don’t support you, like you support me. So I've made a decision…”
Rosa breaks their contact by letting go of Morgana’s hand. That one move hurt her as much as getting pierced by a thousand poison-ticked blades.
“I will be taking Cereza, and leaving. That way we’ll all be s-”
“No!”
The black-haired witch glanced back at the other with bewilderment. That kind of outburst was very unlike Morgana.
“Rosa… you…”
“You are helping. You really are.”
Morgana paused, searching for the right words. She was never good with emotions.
“After I… lost my family. I was alone. Very alone. I never thought I’d ever find someone that’d remotely understand what I’d gone through… until I found you.”
Morgana reached out to grasp both of Rosa’s hands, and the younger witch swore she could see the hint of a blush on the other woman’s face.
“All that pain, and loneliness I felt was easier to deal with with you around. I don’t regret saving you, or the child, and I don’t think I ever will.”
The blonde peered at her with such determination that Rosa couldn’t help the bashful smile that found its way onto her face.
“You’ve repaid me. You saved me, like I saved you, and… I promise I’ll tell you everything when the time is right. For now…”
She pulled Rosa closer.
“...Just stay with me, please.”
Rosa froze, bemused. She wasn’t expecting this, but she wasn’t complaining.
The witch snaked her arms around the other’s neck, and embraced her in a proper hug.
“I won’t. I promise.”
Morgana was the first to pull back after a mere moment of holding each other. She looked bashful, adorable.
They observed each other in silence to see who’d make the first move, or the first word, but neither did.
It was awkward, but it was comfortably awkward. She could stare at Morgana’s face forever. To behold her glimmering, ocean-blue eyes, her adorably furrowed brows, her well-defined cheekbones, her lips that were tinted the color of a glacier, yet looked as soft as snow.
Had her lips always looked so appetizing?
Morgana stared at her with an unreadable expression. Had she read her thoughts? Or was she thinking the same thing?
With wordless communication, they both leaned in…
“Mummy! Is lunch re–”
Cereza paused at the doorway, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.
“Ew… Nevermind. I’m not hungry…” She quickly backed out of the kitchen, and out of the whole house itself.
Rosa stared, astonished. She turned back to face Morgana, who held the same look of surprise.
“This’ll be weird to explain, huh?”
The older witch sighed.
“Yes. Yes, it will be.”