REXANNA
they said you were the crooked kind
The hum of the Voice’s words reach her as she steps through the opening. At first, she’s greeted with darkness, and she finds herself silently agreeing with her goddess. There were only so many things she could do when it came to the past – a past that cannot be changed, no matter how much one wished to go back and fix their mistakes. All she can do is focus on the future – and Halyven wasn’t it. It had been a decision thrust upon her without any regards to her own opinion, and she had taken it on through sheer fear. She is different now, unafraid – that is, until the blackness drifts and her eyes adjust to see the very same cell she had spent so long in. Her heart thunders and roars in her ears, and she chews on her lips as her hands find the cold, chilled bars and damp surroundings. The place she had given birth to a child that couldn’t even take one breath. Another one of her crimes according to the Prince, another reason Halyven burned and smoldered. This time, the tears welling behind her lids do slide down her cheeks as the Voice’s words interrupt the surroundings.
“Yes.” She says, knowing from Wessex that it was impossible, but having never asked Bastien of it. She believes herself to be cursed anyway, and finds that rather than worrying over miscarrying yet again, this is the better result. She thinks to Kiada briefly and that strange, different timeline. At least she can’t disappoint anyone anymore. Her head tilts toward the ceiling of the cell and she nods, gripping the gaunt and cold bars tight.
She figures she can exude her motherly instinct toward other things, like pets or friends, and never have to worry about being punished for her inability to continue her blood line. “I am willing to give it all up.” She admits, deep within her growing further and further relieved even if her heart hurts with the result. At least she wouldn’t have the possibility of dying in childbirth. And then, like a falling shawl, she feels herself change slightly, and as she pulls her hands away from the grimy cell bars, the dirt remains on her hands – it remains on her face as she wipes the tears away. She is fearful of remaining here, but she clings to the Voice’s words to keep her rooted, to keep her from spiraling while everything about her life changes.
but you were always gold to me
