La petite mort

La Mere had made her choice and with nothing but a daughter and her own body. If things were going to go forward, if either of them were to survive this journey, there needs to be no pride in her heart.

Morality is something anyone can have. You can survive atrocities and bring suffering and harm to so many and have that rot and blacken you. You can live with the heavy weight of guilt on your shoulders. But honour or pride? Those are a luxuries she can no longer afford. But then again, what pride did she have in the first place. Back where she knew what life was.

From her birth she had no pride to begin with. Her body and heart was just a tool, a bargaining chip to gain favour towards the powerful that rival her family. Her in and of herself had no value, just the birthright.

But at least with this. She had the choice. This humiliation at least held meaning. Because with this act, La Petite can know peace. Her little one is spared the turmoil of struggling to survive. If it has to be her very last act on this world, she would at least make it known to her beloved daughter that she was loved.

"I don't know what to say." The pony beside her said. The room was dark. It was in the middle of the night with nothing but the moonlight to guide the pony's eyes to the figure laying beside her.The sheets were soaking and humming with sweat, blood and tears. She smelled of the scent of passion as the pony came in close to share in her warmth. There was a deep breath and a sigh.

La Mere turned and met the stranger for a kiss.

"Mare. I can't do this anymore." Tears welled up in her eyes like so many nights before. At first she thought she could be happy with her. But it was impossible. Her heart belonged to another. La Mere needed to find her Fancy.

It was the only meaning she had to offer as a reason to bringing her daughter out into this world. Better to go out to find ultimate happiness than some half measure, that would never be enough. She didn't leave to trade one tragedy for another. This was an all or nothing affair.

"But I love you. I... you've given me so much so in my life. Happiness I never thought existed." La Mere kissed her. She tasted of ashes in her mind's tongue. There was no skipping of her heart beat, no desire to be looked upon with affection.

La Mere could see it. The future they could have. Two mares raising such a beautiful daughter. She would bring her to the local school and have her make friends with so many ponies. They could visit the local farm and library together, get tea and cakes at the local bakery. It would be so peaceful and full of smiles but...

... But there would be no love in it.

The whole time she would be using her. This innocent mare with so much love to give and with herself nothing to spare any back. Pride was one thing to be rid of, but morality was something no one could throw away, lest it destroy you first.

La Mere had to leave, if not for her own sake but to spare this affectionate lover the bitterness of an unhappy courtship. And La Petite will never truly be happy with that hovering in the background of her childhood. Least of which it never brought her any.

"I'm sorry... but I just don't love you. I... I never did." La Mere held her lover close, as to hide the deadness in her eyes. Though in Mare's eyes, it was her act of affection as to have her be held close as she began sobbing into her lover's shoulder.

"All I have for you is my gratitude."

*****************

Le Fey stood upon a grand balcony overlooking the city of Seingalt. Behind her were her chambers, the very prospect of returning to an abhorrent thing. She stood there. It wasn't for any particular reason than escape. It was as if, when she stood where she stood, there was nothing. Only what laid beyond Seingalt and maybe onward to foreign lands outside this city. If only she had the craft her sister knew. Then maybe like her she could go forth and forge a path like she did.

"It was for my own protection." That was what she was told. Her younger sister dove into a nest of vipers in her place, because she herself was not strong enough to survive the cloaks and daggers. At the very least in Cheval her title and birth would ward off the worst of the political subterfuge.

Her right eye began to ache and itch. It got like that everytime her heart raced and her blood boiled. She swung her hooves to the right the instant she felt his disgusting touch.

"I'm over here." He had tapped her right flank but come on to the left of her. It was the only way she would allow him to approach, her guard down, lost in her thoughts and not paying close enough attention to him. After years in each other's lives, he'd gotten the feel of when he could and cannot converse with the walking flame of Avalon.

"Du Lac." She said simply. No emotion. No passion. Merely a show of acknowledgement. Though he knew as well that below the surface was a fight to subdue herself.

"Someday I wished you'd just call me Lance." He put a hoof to her fiery mane, enjoying the silken smoothness of it as if it were playing with fire itself.

"You've had your way. Now leave me." She held out her hoof, staving off Lance's own away from her. It was a warning. One wrong move and he'd be paying his respects to his physician.

"Don't forget. You didn't say no." Showing his ire for the first time in ages he said those words in passing as he slammed the door to her chambers with magic.

And a moment later another set of doors slammed.

She was truly and utterly alone.