#don't mind me just unloading my stupid feelings through rp

[kingofdirtandnothing]

polyfacetious asked: just breathe.

Aaaaaangst!: (Accepting)

“What was I supposed to do, Ekon?”

It would be so much fucking easier if he yelled. If he threw something. Growled. Shifted. Anything but this fucking softness. Because it’s making her want to scream, and she doesn’t have the fucking right. 

(She wasn’t able to scream then either, a seraph blade to her throat.)

“Evan was six months old. We had just started our family. We were happy.” And that’s what she can’t admit, the guilty, nasty secret sitting underneath her breast. That more than anything she was terrified that her husband, the love of her life, her mate would hate her. 

That he would blame her. 

“I went to every warlock in the city. I took moon tea and potions, I sat there for spell after spell, but they couldn’t get rid of it. Nephilim blood is resilient. That’s what one of them told me. There was no getting rid of that.”

She’s shaking, arms wrapped around herself and she knows, she fucking knows that if she opened her arms, that Ekon would take her in his. He was always so goddamn kind. Even when she didn’t deserve it. 

“And then you could smell it. The pregnancy. There was no hiding it then.” 

Which meant she had to spend the next eight months pretending like she was happy. That this was something she wanted. That she wasn’t being held hostage by the life growing inside of her. 

“I wanted to hate him, Ekon.” The tears spilling down her cheeks are as much angry as they are grief stricken. “You don’t know how much I wanted to hate him. I wanted to look down and see nothing but the son of a bitch shadowhunter who did this to me, but-”

Her voice breaks there, a sob caught in her throat. She’s so fucking sorry that it hurts. 

“He was just a baby. Just this tiny, helpless thing who looked more like me than like him, and I couldn’t do it.”

She couldn’t hate him, and she couldn’t leave him in the hands of the people who raised the kinds of monster who could do this to her. “So I got a portal to New York. You know how we always heard how accepting they are there.” And how there was a story when Angela was a little girl about a baby warlock being left on the steps of the Institute who was raised by a shadowhunter and a warlock together. That baby was the High Warlock of Brooklyn now.

“I knew they would take care of him there. So I left him. I left him, and I came back and I lied to you.” Grief smells the same, no matter the reason. And it wasn’t a lie, not really. Because she did lose a son that day. But Ekon didn’t. 

“And I’ve been lying to you ever since. And nothing...nothing I do can ever make up for that.”