“^Cinder.^”
The vixen stood on the opposite side of the dirt street, red eyes glowing dimly in the dark. Every single part of her body was tensed up, muscles twitching as if about to act. Her left paw gripped her wand, the flame on its tip roaring in intensity once Aria had joined the scene. It gradually melted the surrounding snow as it lit up the fox, and everything that marred her.
Her fur was charred in a handful of places; the sheer inferno required for that took Aria aback as she tried to imagine it. Dried mud covered much of her skirt and arms, adding to her demented appearance. Especially when combined with her narrow, unflinching expression.
The expression of someone preparing to fight, befitting her impenetrable mind.
Aria was no stranger to focusing on one’s psyche to make it unreachable for other psychics. What she felt here couldn’t be further from simply wanting to stop Cadence from eavesdropping on her conversation, though. There was not a single thought she could spot, only sheer tense anxiety and immense focus. No thoughts, no fears. Just Cinder wielding her wand and being poised to unleash it at any point.
And with the vixen preparing to fight, the fairy could only do the same.
She couldn’t sense Cinder even trying to probe her mind, but that didn’t mean she could leave it exposed. Aria’s body grew tenser by the moment, winding herself up. Her mind was torn between recalling defensive techniques to protect the wounded and children inside the healer tent, and getting ready to use the few offensive moves she knew to incapacitate the Fire-type.
That first possibility made the Gardevoir almost lose her composure. Not even Cinder would hurt or kill so many innocents just to take her revenge on Anne; Aria was sure of that. As sure as she used to be that Cinder would never assault her brother out of sheer, misguided wrath.
Nowhere near as sure as she wished she could be.
Aria felt her hand clench subconsciously. The innermost part of her had to be forcibly dragged away from immediately springing to action with a Shadow Ball. Every passing moment of silence ratcheted the tension even further, heating the atmosphere from frozen to dangerously flammable, liable to go off with as little as a single spark. A spark that the Gardevoir had to increasingly focus on not letting loose there and then.
Protecting them all came first, but what if, in order to do that, she’d need to be the one to land the first blow? What if Cinder was just waiting for her to falter before going for a swift execution? Aria didn’t know, couldn’t know. A myriad of increasingly horrible possibilities wormed their way into her mind with each passing moment. Their cacophony only ever grew in intensity. The tension demanded an outlet.
Demanded bloodshed.
Instead, came a soft swoosh.
The quiet sound forced Aria to finally look at what was physically happening in front of her. To see Cinder’s wand laying in snow beside her. Extinguished, powerless. The Delphox’s facade was shattered, stone-like expression cracked and revealing one of steadily building despair. Before Aria could even speak up, the vixen followed her wand; the thud of a pair of fur-clad knees collapsing onto the snowy dirt, taking the Gardevoir aback half a step.
And with it came quiet, heartbroken words. “I’m... I’m sorry.”
Aria didn’t react, didn’t dare do anything in response, mind much too wound up to even immediately recognize the shift in the situation. The somber silence following Cinder’s muttered words gradually cooled them both down. As the Delphox’s body language shrunk, expression focusing on the muddied snow before her, the Gardevoir’s remained focused.
Even if this all wouldn’t result in bloodshed, the replacement would not be any less painful. Before long, Aria felt something else, something that finally unwound her, too. Inch by inch, the impenetrable barrier of Cinder’s mind crumbled; each moment revealed more of the seething, murky mass inside of it. The painful, stabbing regret. The harrowing, freezing fear.
The burning, maternal worry, especially for Ember.
The Gardevoir still wasn’t about to start trusting Cinder, not even slightly. She probed deeper and deeper, not finding even a single obstacle in the other psychic’s mind as she tried to piece the situation. The shock of yesterday’s revelation once she’d caught wind of it. Her utter terror about what might happen to her afterwards now that her secret was out. Unending anguish, made even more intense with each step away from their village, eventually culminating in that most harrowing, most irreversible of actions.
Fortunately, unsuccessful.
Aria couldn’t muffle her empathy. It was as much an unchangeable part of her as her flame was of Cinder. What she could do instead was to look past it, focus on the acts the adoptive mother before her had done, and press her about them—and that was what she did. “^I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.^”
Her telepathic voice was little more than a grim, seething whisper, forced through mental teeth. The Delphox reeled as if struck, her posture shrinking further as she nodded. She dared not move for a few moments afterwards, her eventual response meek. “^I-I know. I-I do not want to interrupt th-them—^”
“^What sort of pitiful excuse is that!?^”
Cinder flinched again, shrinking as if she was a stupid child being scolded by her superior. Whether that was the case, Aria didn’t care for one bit, not with the enormity of the vixen’s actual crimes at hand. After her initial reaction, the Gardevoir sensed an actual response steadily building up inside of the Delphox. She opted to remain quiet after putting up a Barrier behind herself, just in case she was about to be caught off guard.
Both Aria and Cinder knew that such protection wouldn’t withstand more than a moment, but a moment was better than instant obliteration at the hands of a grudgeful fox.
“^I-I don’t want to hurt her,^” Cinder finally muttered, “^I don’t want her to be in pain, I-I never did...^”
The Gardevoir felt herself unwind just a notch at the vixen’s words. Her mind or expression didn’t show any of it, though, the former locked down and the latter stone-like. “^And so, instead, you lied to her. Lied and utterly violated her memories, took away the only source of hope she’d ever have, because you couldn’t deal with her pain!?^”
Aria felt her anger grow with each word, but that emotion soon became overshadowed by a very different one. Still anger, still disbelief, but one uncaring of the miserable vixen in front of her. One focused on herself, on her own choices. Before it could dig much into her mind, though, she heard Cinder respond, her voice much louder and pointed, “^What else should I have done!? How could I have ever justified our choice to not rescue the human girl from her family!? How could I have painted our village as anything but utterly cruel for choosing to not save her!?^”
Moments passed with no response from the Gardevoir. Aria hardly cared for quickly intensifying emotions on Cinder’s side, on the confused despair burning into anger by the moment. She was no more prepared for these questions now than Cinder was all those months ago; the unexplainable cruelty hit her hard. Still, she had to come up with something, with a reason.
Even if just to convince herself that she wouldn’t have done the same, deep down.
“^M-many ways. You could’ve brought up safety—^” she began, before Cinder’s mirthless chuckle cut her off mid-word.
“^We both know it’s a lie, and so would Ember,^” the vixen began, “^A stray, harmless human, a traumatized child. Devoid of risk on her own, and her family was loathsome enough to be freely hypnotize into moving somewhere far instead, leaving them as the only culprits once other humans realized the girl’s absence. We easily could’ve done that if we really wanted. And yet we didn’t.^”
The Gardevoir was ever grateful for her unemotional mask holding, despite how much her own thoughts and emotions raged underneath. A quick glance left her staring directly into the Delphox’s gaze. The sheer tension between the two pairs of dimly glowing red eyes was almost enough to start a wildfire on its own.
And with Cinder returning to their usual intensity, Aria worried about that possibility being all too literal. “^We couldn’t have just reached out and manipulated them—^”
“^Of course we could! Don’t play stupid, Aria. Would hardly be the first time manipulating someone like that, except into letting go of their abused child instead of into forgetting they saw too much. What’s the separating line between these two actions? Why did we permit one but not the other?^” Cinder demanded an answer.
“^Again, safety. One protected our village, the other would’ve brought even more risk upon it.^”
“^What is the limit then!? What amount of avoidable cruelty we know of are we willing to ignore, to enable, just to keep ourselves safe!?^”
As harsh and snarled as Cinder’s words gradually grew, Aria could tell that anger wasn’t their only emotion. It was merely the most apparent, a mask of dimly burning righteous fury that concealed honest confusion and loss. Shouted as an argument or not, the vixen’s question was ultimately not merely appropriate, but asked in the most genuine way possible.
It was also one Aria had no response for.
What response could have there been, even? The mere thought of drawing an arbitrary limit of permissible cruelty was one that stabbed the Gardevoir right in her heart. An utter mockery of everything she stood for, sending her blood boiling again. There wasn’t an answer to that question that wasn’t monstrous. Regardless of if Aria liked it, though, the village as a collective entity has answered it many, many times in the past through their actions.
Instead, the Gardevoir chose a different response. It was weak enough for Aria to not see it as much more than an excuse, and she only hoped that the same wouldn’t be the case with the Delphox. “^Everyone in our village has to deal with these questions, sooner or later. As Ember’s guardian, as her mother, it was your responsibility to help her navigate through them, and not violate her into pretending they don’t exist.^”
For once, Aria’s words hit true, even if just for a moment. Cinder took her time gathering a response, ferocity quickly draining from her snout as more despair crept in to replace it. “^No soul can deal with that kind of anguish, you know it Aria! If I hadn’t done that, the knowledge of her human suffering day in and out would’ve tortured Ember forever! What did you want me to do instead, to sentence her for that living hell while offering worthless emotional support!?^”
The Gardevoir paused at the direct question, its pointed nature making her features narrow once more. Despite her initial thoughts, the truth from earlier held all the same, if veiled in futile, despairing anger. The question was as genuine as could be, and all the more difficult to answer because of it.
Aria remained silent for a few long minutes as her subconscious tried to put itself in Cinder’s position from all these months ago. To think through what the vixen could’ve done, what the fairy would’ve done. To consider the options that the Delphox had available to her. Words she could say, actions she could take, plans she could devise. Moment by moment, the Gardevoir’s mind grew ever more turbulent as she thought through the hellish quagmire, her terrified mind gradually inching closer to the most terrifying realization of all. One it wanted to avoid at all costs. One as banal as it would’ve been damning.
That she was not as different from the vixen as she hoped she was.
That, when pressed, she would’ve done the same.
The Gardevoir felt emotions swirl around inside the Delphox’s mind as she thought through it all. Second by second, the fiery facade of a heated discussion cooled off and gradually cracked, revealing the various thoughts crawling underneath. Horrific and understandable alike. An unspoken plea for Aria to come up with an answer. To make her sentencing her daughter to something this horrible a clearly incorrect choice in hindsight. A selfish hope that she had indeed chosen the lesser evil in the end.
Cruel mockery of the other psychic’s efforts, that feeling dismissed the soonest. Reigned in at all costs despite whatever else Cinder would’ve done in any other situation. Despite how little she thought of Aria.
None of that mattered in the moment; none of it could. Every single part of the vixen was focused on the same underlying request, the same command, the same plea, each corner of her mind approaching it from a different angle.
A sentence spoken in a dozen voices, by a dozen Cinders, each with a different tone, but the exact same words,
“Prove me wrong.”
As the moments passed without a response, without a refutation, without an assurance, both women’s spirits began to recede into despair. The vixen’s mind was a tar pit of loathing, of mocking laughter, of deeply stabbing pain, and Aria was scarcely better. She had to prove Cinder wrong, for both herself and the vixen for the village’s little ones.
But how? Was there anything at all she could’ve done in Cinder’s position—
...
...
...
There was.
“^No,^” Aria responded, breathless, mind too taken aback by exploring this new pathway of thought to maintain its unflinching expression any further. The single word was enough to focus the entirety of Cinder’s attention onto herself as relief, anger and confusion brewed inside the Delphox. She wanted Aria to go on, she needed Aria to go on.
And the Gardevoir would deliver. “^You should’ve acted. You should’ve pleaded with the elders to let Anne stay—^”
“^But that wasn’t an option,^” the vixen argued.
“^And we both know that is a lie too, Cinder. It was merely what Ana had told you, not the absolute truth.^”
“^Do you expect me to have gone against an Elder’s words—^”
“^YES!^” Aria shouted. ^”You weren’t doing this for that senile tortoise, you were doing it for Ember. You should’ve been her biggest supporter, kept battering at the Elder’s excuses, went against their words, because your daughter needed you to. Because Anne needed you to.^”
Cinder was staring at Aria in shock, taken wholly aback for the first time in the conversation as the Gardevoir’s words rocked her body and soul alike. “^They wouldn’t have ever let me do something as outlandish as that—^”
“^Then you should’ve kept trying harder. Rounded up the scouts, reached out to even just me or Marco, explained what was going on. Do you think we wouldn’t have helped with an innocent child on the line?^”
“^With a human? Doubtful.^”
As much as Aria wished she could’ve pointed that one out and prove to Cinder how wrong she was... she couldn’t. Not in earnest. The Gardevoir hoped that, should a situation like that have happened, she would’ve been easily swayed to support the Delphox’s cause to rescue a harmless child from her living hell.
But she didn’t know for sure. She was no deity; she could not glimpse into different timelines, explore what else could’ve been.
It didn’t matter either way. “^You don’t know that, Cinder. You didn’t even try.^”
The words struck true, and the Delphox wasted no time before her counter-attack, eyes steadily glowing damper with each passing line. “^All that would’ve accomplished would be giving Ember false hope. That wouldn’t have ever worked, definitely not then!^”
“^That’s not a prophesied truth, Cinder. Again, you don’t know that, not now, not then. But...^”
Cinder’s eyes narrowed through her increasingly shaky emotions as Aria gave her follow-up time to settle in. She was about to stand up and shout, to demand an answer, before the Gardevoir continued, striking her with the truth, “^You wanted that to be true.^”
The truth the vixen had spent so long running away from, only to be struck by it like an arrow through her back.
“^You hoped it was true. Because that would’ve meant you wouldn’t have had to wrestle with taking in a human as your de facto child. That you wouldn’t have had to face your own hatred of them, give it any more introspection beyond sticking with it and swaddling it in impotence.^”
The Delphox was now firmly reeling; her eyes wide as they stared into Aria, though Aria. Her mind was already scrambling to come up with something, anything in response—but the Gardevoir wasn’t done yet. “^You valued your comfort in not having to deal with a human over Ember’s wellbeing, over Anne’s safety.^”
For a split second, Aria saw Cinder’s snout twist into a furious expression of barred teeth. She saw the Delphox grasping her wand with telekinesis; she saw her lashing out against her and against everyone around her, burning the clinic’s tent to the ground and half the village with it—
And then, a blink later, everything was as it had been.
The night scene remained silent, the wand still laying where it had been. Cinder was staring straight down at the muddied, quickly melting snow, her whole body shaking like a ravaged leaf that had somehow survived the winter cold until now. The vixen was mentally laid out, and Aria was well aware of that. The miserable, weeping sight in front of her was an impossibly distant far cry from her usual, proud self.
But there was still more to be said.
“^And you knew that, didn’t you?^” Aria whispered.
Cinder’s eyes snapped open as the vixen stared in aghast disbelief at the fairy before her. Her mouth opened as if to argue the opposite, not lasting long before it closed as thoughts kept ravaging the Delphox’s mind. Panicking thoughts, spiteful thoughts, disagreeing thoughts. All intense, all accusatory. All occluding the truth that, despite her subconscious’ best efforts, Cinder was finally beginning to face.
Aria was right.
Conscious reminders of the evil of humanity, affirmations of just what the vixen would do to Ember’s tormentors if she’d ever faced them. There were so many of them in the days, weeks, months that followed her horrific act. And, one by one, Aria’s revelation began painting them in an even uglier light, even more despicable.
None of them ever showed her own devotion. They were meant for herself, and herself only. A constant affirmation that what she did was ultimately right despite the evil methods. The cacophony of self-affirmation, of hindsight justifications for her actions, all of them with a singular purpose.
To not give herself even a moment to breathe or reconsider just what she’d done.
Because, if she’d done that, then the harrowing possibility of having chosen wrong wouldn’t have been far behind. And with so much on the line, with the baneful impact of her memory alteration, with the ever deepening fear of humanity that it all left Ember with, there were only two possibilities in the end. Either she’d done the right thing, or she’d profoundly hurt her daughter in a despicable way. Despicable, cruel,
Unforgivable.
It was that final thought in particular that made the last of Cinder’s composure burst; her drawn out whine pathetic in all the meaning of the word. Hot, bitter tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped onto her dirtied body. Tears of regret, of guilt, of the all-consuming fear that she’d irreversibly hurt Ember. That, once Ember had learned of the truth, she would never forgive her.
And what’s worse, she would’ve been entirely right to never forgive her. Cinder knew that.
She knew that all too well.
The sight was miserable, but not at all unearned. Despite the seriousness of the situation, despite everything wicked she’d done... Aria’s heart gradually found itself hurting for Cinder. She might’ve brought all this upon herself, but even that didn’t make her pain any less heart wrenching to sense. The Gardevoir might’ve been used to looking past her empathy when needed, but it would always remind her of its existence.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
Including here and now.
Aria’s body and mind unwound at the pathetic display in front of her. Emotion crept onto her expression for the first time in what felt like ages, sadness replacing the earlier frozen glare. Anger was still somewhere in there, especially at what Cinder had done to Marco, but at the moment, Aria couldn’t focus on it. Her conscious part didn’t want to walk over, to give the loathsome Delphox any affection, but... her innermost part did. The Gardevoir in her did.
Despite everything Cinder had done, Aria didn’t have it in her to truly label it all as beyond redemption.
Whether Ember would agree... it remained to be seen.
The emotions took their time chilling; the bitter outside cold only helped little. In a few silent minutes, the seething despair inside of Cinder had burned out into ashen sorrow and freezing fear; neither of them anything she could do a thing about at the moment. Aria stood guard all the while, ever ready to protect the clinic, protect Anne, protect Ember should the need arise. She hoped she wouldn’t have to.
But she didn’t know yet.
Eventually, the pathetic Delphox had finally found it in her to look up from the mud in front of her, the glow of her eyes so much dimmer than before. It all tugged at Aria’s heartstrings, but she wasn’t done. There was another matter that affected the Gardevoir’s soul much, much more. “^Why did you attack Marco?^”
Another flinch, but smaller this time, much less piercing. Still sorrow, still grief, a lot more confusion. Why did she do that, indeed? Did she even know anymore? “^I’m—I’m n-not sure—^”
“^That’s not an answer, Cinder. Did you know it was Ember’s friend when Marco brought up Anne’s name!?^”
“^I wasn’t sure, but... I-I realized it could’ve been.^”
“^Then why did you do what you did? Why didn’t you help Ember remember with the only reason for her to be kept in the dark gone!?^” Aria demanded
The questions pierced right through Cinder’s skin with each syllable. Her heart bled, her mind wept, but she had no answers. No good answers. No answers that were in any way justifiable to anyone but herself. No answers either Aria, Ember, Marco, or anyone else would’ve found anything but utterly repugnant. But they were the truth, in the end. Ugly, loathsome, unjustifiable, and no less true because of it.
Aria didn’t even need to read Cinder’s mind to know them, too, but wasn’t about to let the vixen off the hook to any degree. “^B-because that anger was real,^” the vixen argued. “^Felt real. I-I really thought I wasprotecting her from something evil—^”
“^Because you kept winding yourself up into hating humans just to avoid having to reconsider your actions.^”
A harsh, full body wince.
“^Because you didn’t want to think about what you’ve done.^”
An intense stagger, the vixen’s expression grimacing in pain.
“^Because you were afraid that the entire pretense you set up would come crashing down.^”
A vicious blow, Cinder’s body doubling over as if punched.
“^Because you put yourself above your daughter, again.^”
“^P-please stop!^” Cinder begged.
The selfishness of the request made Aria’s hand clench. A part of her didn’t want to; she wanted to double down and keep going, up to and including forcing every single bit of pain Ember and Anne had been through because of the Delphox’s inaction right into the fox’s mind. Wanted to make her suffer like she deserved to.
But she didn’t.
The Delphox’s mind was already taking care of torturing itself.
“^You’re a coward, Cinder.^”
The fox wept, for she knew the fairy was right.
Tears, anger, sorrow, all of them flowed freely down that tiny dirt alley. Two hearts spilled open in misery, be it despair or wrath. An image of pity, one that deserved to either be held or be spit upon, and neither of the psychics knew which. But it wasn’t the end. It couldn’t have been the end, and they both knew that.
“^What are you going to—^”
*rustle, rustle*
The sound of canvas being pulled aside snapped both women out of their immense emotion, the accompanying aura startling them both, if for very different reasons. Cinder was suffering, Cinder deserved to suffer, and she was certain of that. But it was only her that ought to suffer, and nobody else.
Especially not the Braixen that stepped out of the healer tent soon after.
“M-mom, mom, Anne is here, Anne—m-mom?”
Ember’s voice wavered in uncertainty as she watched Cinder’s distraught state. She had no idea what was happening or even what her adoptive mother had done, but none of that mattered to her.
Her mom was hurting, and she wanted to comfort her.
The Braixen half jogged, half limped over to the kneeling Delphox. Her one visible eye went wide at spotting the wetness on her mom’s cheeks in the faint light of the scattered Will-o’-Wisps. She pulled as much of her mom into a feeble, shaky hug as she could, the older fox still reeling from everything her soul had been subjected to so recently. They were both weak, both emotional, something much more unexpected coming from the fox’s mother as opposed to herself.
Her mom was strong, but everyone had their difficult moments after all, and Ember wanted to help her mom through hers. “Mom, wh-what happened? Why are you crying?”
Cinder felt every single emotion that underlined her daughter’s words, each its own blade stabbing her soul. The desire for her to feel good, love, worry that something bad had happened to her, even wanting to protect her should the need arise. All pure, all wonderful, all bright and comforting. All feeling undeserved, and turned agonizing because of that. “I-I’ve had a—a long day, sweetie. B-but... I’ll be alright.”
“A-are you sure, mom? Maybe we should speak to the h-healers—”
“No, no. That won’t be needed, Ember. It’s, it’s not that kind of pain,” Cinder explained.
The Braixen was taken aback slightly, her one good eye looking over her mom’s pathetic appearance with concern. “You really feel and look hurt, mom...”
“I...”
The thick silence put them all on edge as Ember and Aria alike awaited Cinder’s follow up. Both of them wanted the same thing despite their wildly different grasp of what these words would imply—the truth, and only the truth.
Ember couldn’t have known how vile it was, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have cared. It was her mom she was concerned about. She could wait. Aria and Cinder alike sensed that desire; the unalloyed wish to know what was going on, no matter how hard the truth would be to hear. No matter what her mom was going through, the Braixen could push through it. She knew that!
She was wrong, and both adults knew.
“I’ll tell you later, sweetie,” Cinder whispered. “It’s... it’s a lot. But I’ll be fine.”
Aria’s glare burned through the older vixen as Ember looked at her with uncertainty, left unsure how to interpret that assertion. “A-are you sure, mom? You can tell me anything!”
Cinder had only barely held the piercing pain at hearing her girl say that with such confidence. She meant it; she was certain of it. They both wanted it to be right. But it wasn’t. “I know, sweetie. Th-that’s why I-I’ll tell you, j-just some time later. I’d rather not sour your fun with your friends.”
Ember wasn’t satisfied with that, not one bit, but supposed it made some sense. Seeing her mom be so sad and kneeling on the snow was fun-souring enough to where the younger firefox wanted to keep pushing on—after all, what could be worse than this? She ultimately relented, though, trusting her mom to tell her later. This felt important to her; of course she’d tell her when a better time came.
Of course her mom wouldn’t have lied to her.
“A-alright. D-do you want to come say hi to Anne, mom? She’s my best friend from before I ended up here! She’s looked after me f-for so long, and protected me, and c-cared for me, and—” the Braixen explained, words giving way to sniffling as she clung to her mom. Even this tiny, woefully incomplete recollection was enough to make her break into tears again as it brought all the emotions of their reunion back to the forefront of her mind.
Cinder felt filthy, unworthy, felt like an abuser of the lowest sort. But no matter what she’d done, she was still Ember’s mother, and didn’t want to waste an opportunity to comfort her, no matter how hypocritical it was. Ember needed a mom, and the Delphox could only hope, deep down, that she would ever be worthy of that title again. “Shhh, shhh. I-I’m so glad you found your friend again, sweetie. I think it’s best I come say hi tomorrow instead. Wouldn’t want her first impression of me to be in this state, don’t you think?”
The tiny bit of humor required Cinder’s utmost focus to maintain, to make Ember think things were alright after all. As disappointed as the Braixen was about the two most important people in her life not meeting there and then, she saw the logic to her mom’s words, nodding, “Awwwwh. Okay, mom. B-but you’ll come tomorrow, right?”
“Y-yes sweetie, I will. I... I promise.”
It was a promise Cinder intended to keep, which only made it all the more painful to consider.
“O-okay. Would it be alright if I stayed with Anne for a bit longer today? I-I really missed her...” Ember pleaded.
The Delphox closed her eyes to avoid showing off all the pain they held inside as she pet her daughter on the back. “Of course, sweetie. I-I hope you’re having fun with Anne.”
“Y-yeah, I do, she’s amazing! I-I know you don’t like humans, mom, but I promise you’ll really like her!”
It took every single ounce of self-control Cinder could muster to not wail there and then. “I hope I do, yeah. See you back at our den, sweetie.”
“I-I love you, mom!” Ember woofed, stressing her parting words with another tight hug. Before Cinder could break down, her daughter scurried back into the comfort of the healers’ tent. Still worried, but no longer panicking.
No matter what it was, her mom would tell her, and everything would be alright afterwards.
Cinder’s mind screamed at her that nothing would ever be alright again, that she wasted her one chance at making a lost child’s life better through first inaction and then a horrific hurt. She wished she knew whether Ember would forgive her, to at least be able to prepare for the outpouring of pain and betrayal that was sure to follow. But there was no guarantee either way. She didn’t deserve a guarantee like that, especially after how she’d trashed her guarantee to Ember that she’d always look after her.
The back alley stayed at an impasse as the Delphox slowly picked herself up off the ground, her posture shaky and hunched. Her wand remained buried in the snow where she’d dropped it, but as far as Aria was concerned, it was little consolation. “^I’ll approach the Elders for my punishment tomorrow,^” Cinder whispered.
Aria’s eyes narrowed immediately at the vixen’s words, at their utter callousness. “^How can I trust you to do that, after all that? How can I trust you to not run away with Ember overnight, or even hurt her outright!?^”
Sullen as Cinder might’ve been, these words were finally enough to make her mind burn with emotion, the brief glimpse of fury clear to sense. The Delphox wanted to lash out at the Gardevoir for even suggesting she’d ever hurt her daughter like that, only for the frigid reality of her having already done so to cool her back down into hushed shame once more. “^I won’t dare do that.^”
The sudden crunching noise nearby nearly made Aria jump there and then. A glance downward at its source revealed one peculiar stick to have gotten flung into the snow right beside the fairy; the underlying gesture was as clear as it was meaningless. “^That’s no guarantee,^” Aria leered.
“^I—I know.^”
“^How am I supposed to trust you if you weren’t even honest with your own daughter!?^”
“^I just wanted to keep her happy!^” Cinder pleaded.
“^By lying!?^”
“^She doesn’t need to face the horror of it all here and now. She deserves to spend time with her friend without me immediately barging in and exposing the truth of how horrible her own mother is to her. She...^” Cinder paused, gathering her words. Her eventual response stabbed deeper into Aria than she could’ve ever prepared herself for, “^She deserves a day of happiness. Just one day without it being ruined by my crimes and guilt. I don’t want to deny her that.^”
The Gardevoir’s eyes shot as wide as they got, despite her best attempts to rein in her immediate response. Cinder’s excuse was flimsy, and they both knew it. All it’d do would be to make the eventual revelation hurt even more, break Ember’s trust even further because of her mom not telling her the truth when she had the opportunity to. It was a terrible, selfish idea, whose only real purpose was avoiding having to deal with the Braixen’s justified and heart-wrenching pain in the moment. It wasn’t justifiable, not really.
But what it was, however, was familiar.
Aria’s mind was balancing on the edge of its own abyss, but knew it couldn’t fall into it just yet. At the very least, not before the immediate threat before her was dealt with. “^I do not trust you, Cinder. How am I to be sure that you’ll tell Ember the truth?^”
“^I’m an open book Aria, look in. Probe all you want; I have nothing more to hide.”
The Gardevoir leered at the Delphox as she followed her taunt, reaching into the depths of her thoughts and subconscious like. And then; she stopped moments after she’d began, realizing how pointless this search was, how she’d already scoured everything she could reach in pursuit of any ulterior motives. Despite that, the fairy wasn’t satisfied with that, not one bit. A small, scared part of her kept shouting to dig into Cinder’s mind, shouting that there must’ve been something evil in there. To keep drilling, to keep questioning.
Anything if it meant avoiding looking in the mirror.
The painful realization stung fiercely. Aria’s expression cracked for the briefest of instants before she forcibly straightened it. As much as it all hurt, the Gardevoir had herself under control throughout, preventing her thoughts from going down that murky path. Yet. “^We and the Elders will decide on Anne’s fate tomorrow,^” she explained. “^If you want to even slightly undo the pain you’ve caused, talk to any scouts or Elders you can and give them your point of view. Help sway their opinion, help convince them to let her stay. Understood?^”
Cinder slowly nodded her head, the rest of her body shaking. “^U-understood.^” She then turned around with shaky steps, about to start her pitiful march back to her den before giving her parting words, “^I’m sorry.^”
Aria watched the Fire-type shamble away, maintaining her utmost focus on the miserable sight until she’d turned the nearest corner. Cinder was heading for her den just like she’d promised, and the thought of running away hadn’t as much as crossed her mind to whatever extent the Gardevoir could tell from a distance. A few unending minutes later, Cinder had finally stopped, letting Aria stop focusing on her.
And switch tracks to the other person she ought to be angry at.
Whatever had maintained of her facade fell apart by the moment as her emotions crept closer and closer to a boil. No matter how much she didn’t want it to be the case, the similarities between her and Cinder were undeniable, up to and including the most loathsome sort. She might not have outright tempered with Anne’s mind yet, but she’d considered it, and would have her hand forced into it should the vote decree to not let her stay.
Would she have had enough courage then to stand for what’s right? To oppose the elders so actively, up to and including bringing exile upon herself, to put her family at risk just to protect a single child she didn’t know that well in the end? She didn’t know, of course she didn’t know. These aren’t the questions anyone can answer until life inevitably forces them to. She hoped that she’d do the right thing, but had no idea what ‘right’ even was anymore.
And that’s not even going over the most blatant comparison, one that made the Gardevoir want to scream the more she thought about it—they really weren’t all that different in the end.
They were both perfectly willing to lie to those that depended on them, those they were watching over, just to ‘keep them happy’. Just to avoid having to guide them through that horrific pain, be it of the village refusing to help a human in need, of them all considering disposing of them just because keeping them safe was ‘difficult’, or of their parent having done a horrible deed in pursuit of ‘keeping them happy’.
If it had been her with Ember all those months ago, would she have acted any different in the end? She didn’t know, and the more she dwelt on it, the more despicable the answer became. After all, they had both lied through their teeth just this very day—
“Honey?”
The word was little more than a growl in the dead of night, the being that spoke it all but invisible in the darkness. All that Aria could see on him were the glints of light shining on his fangs and eyes, the combined appearance terrifying for most.
For her, it was just what she needed.
“Hey, sweetie,” she answered, exhausted.
The Gardevoir closed the distance between herself and her husband with a bit of shaky levitation. Garret wasted no time before holding her tight, applying a well-practiced level of strength. Just barely enough to not be actively painful, the immense closeness of every single strand of hair pulling his wife closer to him more than welcome to them both. “I-is something wrong, honey? You looked aghast.”
Aria breathed deeply as she mulled over her words. There was only one truthful answer, but it was an answer she really didn’t have it in her to elaborate on at the very moment. “If I’m honest, yes, yes it is. Many things that are just wrong.”
Garret knew she couldn’t hold his love any closer without it being hurtful, but what he could do was carefully move her to have her head rest close to his heart, its steady beats ever-soothing. “Do you want to talk about them?”
The Gardevoir thought about the question for all of two seconds before arriving at an answer; her chalk-white face shook gently amidst the pitch black fur. “Not at the moment. I have to sort through my own thoughts first, if that’s alright.”
“Of course it is, Aria. Take all the time you need. I’m here for you.”
They might’ve been obvious reassurances, but that didn’t make Garret’s words any less soothing. The Gardevoir squirmed in his hairy embrace, shaking arms reaching around her husband to return the little of it she could. “I know. I love you so much, Garret.”
The demon in question reached to gently stroke along his wife’s cheek and spikes. It felt squirmy, downright ticklish, and it made her feel like the most special Gardevoir in the whole darn world.
“Love you too, honey. You’ve really been hard at work looking after... um... w-was it Angela?”
Garret’s forgetfulness made Aria laugh for the first time in way too long. The tired sound released more tension than the Gardevoir could’ve ever hoped for, relaxing by the moment. She needed this; she needed it so badly, especially from the one person she trusted the most in the world. Still, forgetting such an important detail earned him the gentlest of flicks on his pointed nose; the gesture soon returned to her almost invisible one.
“Ouch!”
“Ow. It’s Anne,” she explained. “And yes, a lot of today has been about her, directly or not, but... not all, either. Some of it I want to go through with you, but...”
“Not right now?”
“Yes. Maybe tonight, after the kids have gone to bed and it’s just us two?”
“Ha, spending our alone time on something serious this time~?” Garret chuckled.
Aria rolled her eyes at the phrasing, but not without a wide, silly smile accompanying it. The Grimmsnarl’s laughter at her expression warmed her heart even more afterwards; the simple affection and silliness made so much more special by the grave seriousness of the past few days. “Exactly~. I suppose if we have the time we can think of something more, but... I doubt we will.”
“That much to go through?”
The Gardevoir nodded wordlessly, another portion of gentle pets dissolving even more of her tension.
“Many nights ahead of us, after all~. Before then, are we gonna be heading home?” Garret asked.
“Yes, yes, I was thinking we’d do so soon... though…” Aria began, her husband not expecting a follow-up. His eyes widened as a small, cheeky smile sprouted on his wife’s face, “This could be a great opportunity to introduce you to Anne now that I think about it~.”
The Grimmsnarl’s loud gulp reverberated through his and Aria’s entire body, the Gardevoir’s embrace immediately tightening. “A-are you sure, honey?”
“Remember what I told you yesterday—brush aside the top coat and you’re as sweet as can be.”
“E-even if—”
“I know she’ll take time getting used to you if she ends up staying with us, sweetie. Little we can do about it except to introduce you early and work through that immediate reaction bit by bit,” Aria reassured.
“H-how can you b-be sure that she’ll get over that?”
“Because...” Aria paused, shivering as she recalled the frightful scene. Even the memories of Anne’s sheer panic were almost enough to make her lose her composure. “She was terrified of me too, when she first realized I was a Gardevoir. I felt it, it hurt, but... eventually, she trusted me. I can tell she’s still a little intimidated from time to time, by me, by Marco, even by Cadence, but exposure will help with that.”
“I-I can’t imagine anyone being scared of you, sweetie.”
Aria rolled her eyes, “It’s so much different when you’re as... powerless as she is, though. She didn’t see me in that moment; she saw a wild Gardevoir, mighty enough to do unspeakable things to her while she couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
“That’s... I suppose understandable,” Garret sighed. “Wouldn’t that also be how humans feel about all the other mons?”
“I—I think it is, to one extent or another. Their local folklore paints Gardevoir in an awful light, but the underlying powerlessness is there everywhere else, too.” Aria chuckled at the thought that followed; the cold, mirthless sound enough to make her husband hold her that bit closer to the thin body beneath all the hair. “Guess if it comes down to powerlessness versus control, it’s little surprise that humans would choose the latter.”
“It doesn’t make it any more right,” Garret argued.
“Of course it doesn’t. It’s not about being right, it’s about me understanding them just that bit more, I think.”
“Sounds helpful if you wanna take Amelia into our burrow~.”
The Gardevoir slowly shifted her attention back to her husband’s expression, her own as flat as can be. She saw the corners of his mouth twitch in that well familiar way. Her reaction was swift and utterly merciless.
*flick*
*flick*
“Ouch!”
“Ow.”
The couple erupted into laughter nearly instantly as Garret lowered his wife back onto solid ground. Even when she was standing upright unassisted, though, she didn’t want to leave her husband’s warmth even for a moment. “So, feeling down for meeting Anne?” she asked.
“As down as I’ll ever get, I think.”
“Let me introduce you, then~. It’s gonna be alright sweetie, I promise.”
“I know, honey. You’re the one doing it, after all~.”
As cheesy as Garret’s reassurance might’ve been, it was no less effective as a result, or less successful at bringing a soft, tired smile to Aria’s face. A few long moments later, she finally let go of his warm, black fluff, before taking a breath to reset mentally and heading back into the room currently occupied by almost the entire rest of her family.
Predictably, little has changed since the last time she’d been here, aside from everyone’s exhaustion. There wasn’t a single person around who wasn’t at least tired by now, and for some, their sleepiness had already claimed them. Elric was sprawled on half the bed while Bell had been moved over to Anne’s lap at some point. Bumpy as the Ralts’s bedding might’ve been, he was sleeping no less soundly because of that.
Anne carefully stroking his cheek helped a lot with that, too.
Cadence was using all the focus she had left in her to not join her denmates there and then. Ember’s warmth sure didn’t make that any easier, though. The human and her best friend were the only two outright awake souls left in the room, and even they were one cup of warm, sweet tea from snoozing there and then. Marco was in a similar boat as his niece, in that he only kept himself awake through the power of sheer effort, but at least he was trying harder at that.
Anne’s gentle wave took Aria out of inspecting her surroundings; the gesture returned shortly after. The Gardevoir asked, “^How are you feeling, Anne?^”
“~I-I’m feeling good, was just chatting with Ember. Wh-where did you go, Mrs. Aria?~”
The question didn’t hit the Gardevoir any less despite having been whispered out. Fortunately, for once, the Braixen was eager to give her an out, even if it was one that brought a lot of follow-up questions.“^Sh-she was talking with my mom, Anne.^”
Thankfully, the human girl was much too tired to come up with any of the said questions, acknowledging the reply with an idle, sleepy nod. “~Oh, I see. A-are they gonna sleep here tonight?~” she asked, looking at the kids sprawled around the bed.
Cadence might’ve had enough awareness left in her to realize she was included in ‘they’, but that didn’t extend to being able to produce any response besides a quiet yawn into the human’s side.
“^No, no,^” Aria reassured, “^we’re gonna be heading home soon, don’t worry, Anne. Before then, though, I had something to ask you.^”
“~O-oh? About what, Mrs. Aria?~”
“^Well~, would you want to meet my husband, Anne?^”
The human girl was too tired to even be much taken aback anymore, her firm nods conveying her enthusiasm clearly. “~Y-yeah. What is he like?~”
“^Mr. Garret is really s-sweet, hehe,^” Ember chimed in, netting herself a gentle pet as Aria and Marco chuckled in response.
The latter was busy attempting to shake just a bit more consciousness out of himself as the former continued, “^He really is, yes. Though, there’s something I have to tell you about him first, Anne.^”
Anne was left a bit surprised, but not suspicious. She answered in a nod, trying to focus on what the Gardevoir was about to say.
“^He’s a Grimmsnarl, which... many find frightening in appearance.^”
“^But he’s not scary, dad is so nice and gentle and mumble mumble...^” Cadence muttered.
Her attempt to contribute to the discussion was no less funny to the two adults than Ember’s, though Anne was too preoccupied to notice. She faintly recalled that species name from one of her binges through the dexes at Mrs. Graham’s library, and she usually remembered images well. Grimmsnarl, Grimmsnarl, large and with black fur and... big fangs, and...
The more the recollection came into view, the more Anne reminded herself of the many warnings about the species’ danger she remembered reading. Strength of a Fighting-type, ruthlessness of a Dark-type, cunning of a Fairy-type. Highly aggressive, prone to fits of rage. One of those species that, by the time you see one in person, it’s already too late.
For a moment, Aria considered helping Anne out, going over all the parts of her recollection that just weren’t true and putting the others in a more amenable, gentler light. She didn’t want the girl to be terrified of her husband, after all.
Before she could come up with what to say, though, Anne got to working through it herself. She remembered how deathly terrified she was of the very Gardevoir she was now speaking with, and how little of that was justified in the end. Even if the books say he’s scary, Anne knew she wouldn’t have anything to fear here, be it from Aria or anyone else.
If Aria said that things would be alright, then of course they would be. Anne trusted her, more than she had trusted almost anyone in her life. The Gardevoir wished that trust was fully justified.
“O-okay. I-I think I’ll be alright, I still wanna meet him,” Anne mumbled.
Whatever mistakes she might’ve made and had yet to resolve, though, she wouldn’t stop working towards ensuring Anne’s safety, be it in large or small ways. “^I’m glad. I’m gonna grab him, then~.^”
She would need to come clear to her, eventually, but it didn’t have to happen here and now.
...
Maybe she, too, was a coward in the end.