Chapter Text
The blade shimmers in the light as it crests Daphne’s shoulders, wavering in the reflection of the waters. Her Father holds it up in front of his face, half smiling at Daphne as she rises.
“It’ll remain by his side forever,” Hagen grunts as he pounds out iron in the forge, Daphne reading a book in the corner to escape from all the movement, back to Hagen’s simplicity. “A perfect blade, capable of felling any enemy, and always returning.”
A blade that could be more loyal than any person, more loyal than Daphne, who stays in the castle and watches the storm approach. She has never been one to sit back and wait for the current to overtake her, no, she has always wished to dictate it.
Father carries that sword with him everywhere, only putting it to rest when they all eat dinner together, yet it still lays off to the side of the room. Waiting to be picked up once more and rushed into battle when a page comes, bearing news of the witches next attack.
She cleans blood off of it, one night, when her parents return too exhausted to do anything but drop into bed. She cleans so much blood off of it that it dribbles down her forearms and spreads across the front of her dress.
“That’s just war,” Hagen says. “What is more loyal than something that will preserve your life?”
Daphne lets the blood soak into her hands. Why should she care about it, for it is not Father’s. She touches the iron of the sword, feeling the magic within it resonate, and asks it, even if not for Hagen, will it stay by Father’s side for her?
And the Dragon promises her.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There shouldn’t be a test this early in the year, literally everyone agreed. Even Flora and Musa, who seemed to love all the academic work they were given, weren’t excited for the simulation.
“What was it like last year?” Musa asks Stella, almost hesitantly.
Their resident ex-expelled student shrugs. “Most people passed, but I don’t think most people slept for a week. I really don’t worry about it, there’s no amount of cramming that can help me.”
“Did you even try?” Musa raises an eyebrow at Stella.
“No.”
Bloom and Flora pour over herbology books in their free time. Survival is the goal of the test, and knowing what to grow in what area could be the difference between passing and failing. Plus, it’s starting to become the magic Bloom feels most comfortable with. She’d never guess it, with what Daphne told her about flames curling under their skin, but plants work for her. There’s something about digging her palms into soil and releasing the energy that’s pent up that reinvigorates the plants.
“You probably have some sort of life energy,” Flora explains. “Your power is called the Dragon’s Flame, isn’t it?”
“And the Dragon’s Flame is, mythologically, the power that created the entire universe,” Tecna chimes in. “It’s no wonder then that life would be one of your specialties.
Daphne was never very good with plants, always bumbling around Vanessa’s shop looking absolutely mortified at even the prospect of overwatering something. Bloom can’t wait for a response to her letter, wondering what Daphne will think of all this.
They all wake up early for the test, half the students have brought books with them to breakfast for some last minute studying.
“Do you think I should use starroot and puffweed?” Bloom asks Flora, who’s nibbling on a piece of toast, her appetite vanished like the rest of them.
“Um, well, in what situation?” Flora responds, blinking at Bloom heavily.
“In, let’s see,” Bloom pages through her textbook. “A winter swamp.”
“Starroot, it grows well in cold climates, and the main advantage of puffweed is how much it produces,” Flora recites, and then returns to her breakfast.
“You really shouldn’t worry that much, Bloom,” Stella advises, as she has every day for the past week. “You’re a fire fairy. You and I will be able to produce light and heat to keep us safe and healthy for the half hour. Tecna can probably do something similar with one of her firewall shields.”
“That would only likely earn you the bare minimum of passing,” Musa points out.
“So in other words, it’s perfect,” Stella retorts.
Everyone looks as tired as Bloom feels wandering into the simulation chamber. She can’t remember the names of any of her plants, and hopes the labels she put on their seed packets will be enough to jog her memory. Musa is humming under her breath, a song Bloom remembers Musa practicing on her flute to Kiko, constantly making the little bunny run towards her.
Even Stella starts to get worried, rubbing her thumb across her fingers in the most understated nervous tick Bloom has ever seen. It’s almost tempting to take Stella’s hand, to let Stella’s thumb run across her hand instead.
The idea of asking her is way too stressful when already dealing with this exam though.
“Alright then,” Professor Palladium paces in front of the controls. This might be the only time he’ll ever intimidate the class. “You’ll all be entering the simulation one at a time, and you’ll have thirty minutes to survive and thrive in the environment the simulation provides you. The environments will be completely random!”
It was all information they had been given in class last week, but somehow, hearing it right before the test made every instruction seem all the worse. How were they supposed to “thrive”?
“Any volunteers?” Palladium gazes across the group of students who look mostly ready to throw up. “No? Then Musa, you’re up first.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“It’s really you.” Hagen’s sword clatters to the floor as he reaches forward and cups Daphne’s chin in his hands. She wonders if he feels the wrinkles that have begun to show on her face, or if he sees the healthy roundness of her cheeks. Does he see the way she’s become used to the regal smile she had worn for so long? “Daphne, you’re alive.”
Daphne laughs at the simple statements, letting them fill her up. Such basic sentiments, but…
It is her, everyone can still see the old girl within her. It’s hard to hate the person she was when everyone speaks it with such love, when she knows they see the person they cared for and not the image Daphne used to see in the mirror.
And she is, no matter how false it may feel at times, alive. She has lived a full life, and she will live more.
It’s words she hadn’t known she needed to hear, to be recognized as not some haunting phantom of Domino that she, as what felt like the last survivor, had made herself out to be.
“Did you really think I would die? Shame on you, I thought you had more belief in me,” Daphne teases the old man lightly.
“I thought you were dead because no one could find hide or hair of you, you little rascal,” Hagen growls, but there’s no real anger in his voice. No betrayal has sunk in yet. “Where have you been?”
“On Earth, it was the only place far enough away from the witches that it felt safe,” Daphne replies. “I… I apologize for not returning sooner.”
If she had returned, would Hagen not be in this castle? Would he still be with the Company of Light, tearing through the darkness in the world? Perhaps that gives her too much credit though, likely she’d be the one everyone felt like they had to take care of.
There are still the parts of her that can’t regret remaining on Earth, not when she thinks back to all the milestones she has recorded with Bloom, to all the ways Mike and Vanessa healed her without knowing a thing about her.
Hagen pulls her into a hug, squeezing her against his chest. She wraps her arms around her Uncle just as tightly. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispers. “You’re here now, and whatever time you needed is just fine.”
Daphne will not cry, that is the promise she made to herself upon arriving in this place. She has had too many tears over the last few days, and wishes to only smile at her Uncle. But Daphne has not been very good at commanding herself lately.
Blurry tears coat her eyes as she back away, roughly wiping them off. “While I did ask for tea, I’d much prefer to just return to Alfea and not stick around here. Faragonda says she hasn’t seen you in ages and that if you refuse to come, she’ll track you down herself.
Hagen chuckles. “That sounds like Faragonda. Might as well go see what you fairies are up to.”
He places a hand on her shoulder, almost hesitant, unlike the heavy slaps on the back he used to give her family. Daphne claps her hands together and spins them, a portal swirling into existence, and they step through into Faragonda’s office.
The light that streams in through Faragonda’s window brings new, less emotional tears to her eyes. She had known Hagen’s castle was dark and dreary when she arrived, but the physical effects of the contrast are still nonetheless striking.
“My dear Hagen,” Faragonda smiles at them, looking not at all surprised at their appearance. “It’s been too long, my old friend, but I don’t think I should have to send a miracle to your doorstep to get you to visit.”
“It’s like you don’t even want visitors, I had to fight off a whole army to get to you,” Daphne adds in.
Hagen blinks at her, his hands tightening into fists. “Wait, my armor attacked you?”
Daphne rolls her eyes. “Your incredibly weak armor,” she points out, purposefully leaving out the point that any novice fairy would be destroyed by them. “It was almost a warm-up.”
Faragonda, mercifully, steps in before Hagen can likely chastise himself more. While Daphne isn’t a fan of how her Uncle chose to seclude himself away, she also doesn’t want to see the old man freak out over the possible harm he could’ve caused her. Especially when the armor had been incredibly easy to defeat.
“Hagen, Daphne, please take a seat. I feel we have much to discuss, now that you’ve finally come out of that depressing fortress of yours,” Faragonda waves her hands, magic pulling two of the chairs out for them.
Hagen sighs, a deep rumble that Daphne got to used to hearing whenever Father said something dumb. “Fine, but we’ll come back to this in the future, Daphne.”
Daphne strides forward, ignoring his words, and lets the magic drop off of her. Her wings shimer out of existence behind her, and her dress melts off her shoulders. She removes the mask from her eyes, watching it disappear into the ether from which she calls it.
All that’s left is Daphne, in a turtleneck and sweatpants, a messy bun that fighting has dislodged strands from.
“You look good kid,” Hagen comments gruffly, Daphne not able to turn fast enough to see the look on his face when he says it.
“Yeah right,” Daphne scoffs, intertwining her hands and lifting a sardonic eyebrow. “I’ve lost all sense of regality Hagen, I don’t look like a Princess any longer.”
“Maybe not,” Hagen agrees. “But you look like someone who’s finally in their own skin, finally ready for the tasks you give yourself.”
Daphne looks down at her wrinkled outfit, her calloused skin. “I look old and tired.”
“Exactly,” Hagen grins. “You used to look like a child in a warrior’s dress. Too young for all the things you claimed. Now, you finally look ready to know what responsibilities are yours, and take them.”
“And what’s more, you look happy.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bloom didn’t only study for the test by going over her herbology notes. She’d started with learning how to fly, actually.
One would expect flight to be natural for a fairy, something that came along with the wings, and in a way, that was true. Bloom merely had to think about rising into the air, about soaring through the stormy sky, and there she was, hovering above the school. But she wasn’t a talented flier.
The other girls had competed to see who would teach her flying. Tecna and Musa both complained about doing so, but Stella leaned over and whispered to her that it was really the distraction they all needed.
It was Tecna, surprisingly, who flew the fastest.
“Are you sure you can teach me?” Bloom asked, standing atop the tower, the other three sitting behind her, having returned to their studying. Except for Stella, who was painting her nails. “Your mode of flying seems a bit… unique.”
“The actual physics don’t matter that much,” Tecna responded. “You aren’t flying by flapping your wings, rather by the amount of magic you use to propel yourself.”
“It’s why Musa can fly on those tiny wings of hers!” Stella called out, the following curse a good sign that Musa had kicked her in retaliation.
“So, I have to focus on my magic to fly?” Bloom asked, ignoring the stupidity behind her.
Tecna nodded. “You’ll want to focus on your core of magic, then try to transfer that feeling to your wings, after that you can-”
Flames begged to be released, twitching her wings faster and faster until they were like a hummingbird’s, time slowing just for her. And drawing out the spool of magic from her soul, wind blurred past Bloom’s face and she took to the air.
But those were not screams of encouragement from her friends, rather screams of horror.
Bloom gazed down, high in the sky where she hovered, to see Tecna and Stella beating out swaths of fire that covered the roof.
“Oh my god,” Bloom whispered to herself, watching Stella suck a flicker of fire into her staff. Then louder, “Oh my god!” And she dived back down.
The flames were out by the time her feet touched the surface though. “I am so sorry, did I do that?” Bloom babbled. She hadn’t though- but she should’ve, her magic was fire after all.
“That was so cool,” Stella breathed, throwing her arms around Bloom’s neck. “That was the coolest takeoff I’ve ever seen, but warn me next time! I don’t want my hair getting set on fire.”
“Perhaps focusing on your magical core was a bit inadvisable,” Tecna said, looking far more reasonably horrified than Stella.
“I think instead of focusing on your magic itself, you should focus on what you want,” Flora piped up, still collecting her notes.
“Yeah,” Musa agreed. “Like just, think about how much you want to fly, or the sensation of when you do. Your magic will respond to just that, and probably have a lot more direction.”
But that’s so uncontrollable,” Tecna rounded on the other two. “You wouldn’t have any understanding behind the actual pressure put into flying, or how to bring it out in any circumstance!”
Musa shrugged. “It’s always worked for me.”
The argument slowly became more muffled as Bloom closed her eyes and breathed. Breathing was different when she flew, the air so sharp whenever she drew in a breath, the beats of her wings matching up to the pounding of her heart synchronizing with the contraction of her lungs. She breathed, with all the heat of flight, and jumped.
The ground did not claim Bloom, no, the space between it and the universe did. The sky opened up before Bloom, in a way it never did when she stuck on Earth, looking up through branches of trees and past apartment buildings. She even felt like she could reach the sun, if only she stretched her hand out a bit further.
Soaring through the air, Bloom twirled again and again, a different axis of dance she’d never considered could exist. Her eyes were drawn back to the tower, where Blonde hair flapped in the wind and Stella raised her hand to wave at Bloom. Even from this distance, everything about Stella was clear to see, especially the bright smile that lit the day more than the sun ever could.
And Bloom pumped her fists through the air and whooped loud enough to wake all the creatures in the forest, because nothing could bring her down now.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I am… rather sure I don’t need to explain the war to you,” Daphne begins, her mouth dry of words and explanations she has to give anyway. “Suffice it to say, the Ancestral Witches had broken through the defenses, and my choices were either to fall with Domino or escape elsewhere.” A good ruler would’ve died with their lands. Daphne had given up the crown when she left, shedding herself of royalty until all that was left was a patchwork person.
“Aye,” Hagen nods his head. “I’d say we underestimated them, but it was more just our final stand.”
“I decided to escape, and went to Earth, the only place with a magical trace low enough to disguise us,” Daphne continues. “And I…”
How could she describe the life she had lived, banal and yet full of love? There was no way for it not to sound bad, not when Hagen had been in his castle all those years.
“I’ve returned now,” Daphne switches her sentence. “And whether or not my parents are still out there is something I cannot know unless I find their bodies and lay them to rest. So Uncle Hagen, I came to you to know how your search has gone. Please, allow me to join you in finding them.”
A part of her waits for him to glare at her, cutting eyes reminding her that she abandoned her right to everything in Magix the day she shut that portal. But Uncle Hagen’s eyes hold no judgment of her, he looks at her like she is a mirror.
“I’d love to help you out,” Hagen says. “But no matter how hard I look, I cannot find Oritel and Marion. I can think of no other ways to look.”
It’s the bitter answer she expected, but how he continues is not.
“Daphne, I’m fine with spending the rest of my life searching for your parents. Trust me, no matter how hopeless it seems, I refuse to give up. But you’re a young fairy, with your entire life ahead of you. I don’t want you to become consumed in this torment the same way I have.” Hagen gazes at her remorsefully, only seeing himself.
Faragonda makes a noise, whether assent or dissent is of no consequence to Daphne, as she cuts her off.
“Torment, is that what you call it?” Daphne levels Hagen with a glare that could cut through all his steel armor. “I see no such thing in hope. It is a sad and desperate hope, but it is hope nonetheless. It is not your choice how will I spend my life, nor how I will feel about that. I’d thank you if you not imply my search for my parents is a living hell.”
Hagen sighs, “If that’s your wish, Princess.” It isn’t the type of acquiescence she hopes for, it’s just a tired agreement with no renewed spirit. “It’s a miracle that you are alive, but don’t expect that of your parents.”
Faragonda clears her throat. “I’m sure none of us wish for this discussion to become an argument, not when it should be a happy reunion between friends.” The voice is the same as that which used to scold Daphne for trying to set Lake Roccaluche aflame.
“Yes,” the other two say, the word dragging out in their mouths.
Daphne turns to Hagen, “I’d like it if you could tell me later about every method you’ve tried. That way, I can weed out my own attempts.”
“Of course,” Hagen agrees.
“Now then,” Faragonda steeples her fingers underneath her chin. “Why don’t we just talk? Daphne, I do think you’ve failed to inform our dear Hagen about our other survivor.”
“Other survivor?” Hagen echoes, raising an eyebrow at Daphne.
Daphne is so used to her presence being taken in along with Bloom’s, so used to them being a joint pair. She says “I” where she means “we” and “we” where she means “I.” There is no way to pull apart the threads of their lives anymore, not when every other thought leads Daphne back to her sister.
“I escaped along with Bloom to Earth,” Daphne tells Hagen, and the grin that overtakes her face can’t be contained, too full of the fondness in her heart for even her princess mask to hide. “I’ve been raising her for the past years, she’s grown into a fine young woman. As fiery and opinionated as everyone once joked she’d be, and without the manners to keep it quiet.”
“Great Dragon,” Hagen exclaims, rocking back in his chair, tears leaking out of his eyes. “You’re both alive?”
“Yes,” Daphne affirms. “We’re both still here.”
“Bloom just enrolled at Alfea,” Faragonda cuts in smoothly. “She’s been quite a fine student so far. In fact, today is the first major exam the first years will have, the survival exam in the simulation chamber. Why don’t we all go observe?”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bloom also trained with a few weapons, Stella taking the role of the teacher for them all. She stood tall, twirling her staff as she lined them up and then marched in front of them.
No one took it that seriously. Not that they weren’t intrigued by the prospect of handling weapons, but as Musa said with a shrug, “It’s unlikely we’ll become good enough by the time of the exam.”
Apparently, Stella had also called three of the Specialists over, Brandon, Sky and Timmy all pulling weapons out of their ship. Riven had apparently come as well, but stalked off before any of them actually needed to talk with the perpetually angry boy. Apparently, Stella had called it payback for the help they had given them in the swamp, though Bloom doubted any of these three needed blackmail to come.
“What weapon do you want to try?” Stella asked, standing next to Bloom.
“I don’t know,” Bloom resisted the urge to chew on her thumb nail as she looked them over. “Do you know if there’s any like… traditional weapon of Domino?”
“Of Domino?” Brandon echoed, raising an eyebrow at her. “Why that specifically?”
“Oh,” Bloom exhaled, looking at the three Specialists who were not around for her journey of prying information out of Daphne just to put the pieces together in a supermarket. “Uhh…”
It actually felt kind of nice. Not them not knowing, Bloom hated keeping secrets from people, but the fact that she could decide what they knew about her. Whatever she told them would be what they understood of her, ot an image they formed from a picture that was still incomplete for Bloom.
“I’m apparently one of the lost Princesses of Domino,” Bloom stated bluntly, watching Brandon’s eyes widen in shock. In the corner of her eye, Bloom watches Timmy drop their ray gun, which thankfully does not go off. “But I don’t really… remember anything. Because I was a baby.”
There was a deathly silence as the Specialists took time to process this information and the other Winx debated whether to step in, like the good friends they were. Honestly, Bloom thought it was mostly just getting past whatever history Magix had about Domino that made their conceptions of her go double for a moment.
They were already in the presence of a Prince and Princess, of course. So that ought to be no surprise, and…
“Yeah, I suppose not remembering is an experience a lot of us have with the war against the Ancestral Witches,” Sky shrugged, not dismissively though. “Sometimes my Father tells me stories, and as I’ve gotten older I can understand them theoretically, but I still imagine how overwhelming war must’ve been back then, and it’s so hard to notice all the impacts of it when it’s all we’ve grown up in.”
“Yeah, it’s umm… My Father doesn’t talk a lot about it, but it’s such a huge part of what has formed modern Magix,” Brandon added in, his silky voice shaky. “I’m sorry about what happened to Domino.”
The other Specialists nodded in agreement.
“Still, it’s good to know that not everyone from Domino was lost, isn’t it?” Sky grinned at her. “We can help you figure out the history of that world if you want.”
“Thank you,” Bloom inclined her head at him. He really was a lot like Stella, supportive to a fault. She wouldn’t have expected such behavior from future rulers, but it suited them so well. They were really special. “But I have my sister to teach me most of it.”
“Your sister?” Sky’s eyebrow rose.
“Princess Daphne, right?” Brandon whispered, drawing all eyes to him. “I, uh, I heard a bit about her. She was a Nymph of Magix, right?”
“Where’d you find that information?” Tecna demanded, obviously thinking of the nights she and Bloom had spent up searching the history of Domino on every database Tecna had access to, and probably a few she didn’t.
“Some libraries at Eraklyon, I don’t think they’re digitized,” Brandon smiled apologetically. “But, that is her, right?”
“Yeah,” Bloom nodded at him. “I only just learned what a Nymph is though.”
“Well,” Brandon said, “If you need to know anything else, I’d also be happy to help you. I’ve always had a bit of an interest in Domino, actually.”
Bloom grinned at him, hoping to alleviate the awkward set of his shoulders, the self-conscious twist of his lips. The free offer of any information was like balm to Bloom’s soul. “Well then,” she gestured toward the weapons rack. “Do you know any traditional weapons of Domino.”
Brandon grinned. “The sword, mainly. King Oritel, the last of King of Domino, and uh- Your father, he had a sword said to be the strongest ever made, capable of defeating any enemy, and only could be wielded by a true king.”
Bloom picked up the iron sword, flipping it in her grip, and wondered if the old blade was anything like her Father’s. “Care to teach me how to use it?”
Brandon pulled out his own sword. “Of course!”
They apparently fought differently. Brandon kept advising Bloom to dodge, and deflect the power of an opponent’s strikes, but she preferred to ram through, relying on the speed she had always excelled in. He disarmed her again and again, his techniques always winning.
“You’re a bit too violent for that sword, dear,” Stella laughed at her at the end of the session.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daphne, Faragonda and Hagen are all somehow able to slip into the edge of the room. Daphne blames the stress on all the students' faces, and perhaps Faragonda casting a bit of magic over them.
Bloom spots them immediately though, her eyes constantly cresting over the room before they land on Daphne. She stops biting her lip, her face lighting up as they spot one another. Luckily, she seems to want to draw attention to them even less than Daphne does herself. So she just gives them a small wave.
Daphne waves back, flipping Bloom off when she elbows Stella in the side and nods her head towards them. Those two really have become thick as thieves, Daphne may have not spent much time around them both together, but Bloom has never seemed to hesitate to trust Stella with anything. Whether the Princess is deserving of that trust is something that remains to be seen.
The fairy in the simulation wraps up, collapsing to their knees as the scenery fades back to the walkway, their wings turning to mist. They’d had a hard time warding off the carnivorous plants of the world they’d been transported to, and of course, no fairy wanted to harm the local ecosystem of a world.
“Bloom, it’s your turn,” Professor Palladium reads off his list, his eyes darting up and catching on the trio in the back. Faragonda waves him on, and he has enough sense not to show that much surprise.
From so far away, Bloom’s face is hidden, but Daphne can still see her shoulders move in an exhale before straightening. She knows her sister’s eyes are pointed ahead, ready to face any challenge. She marches into the simulation, with her head held high.
Hagen chuckles, “She’s given this the same sort of look you would at that age.”
Daphne scoffs, “Nonsense, I was rarely so unmitigatedly bold.”
“No, Scruffy there does have a point,” Stella comments, suddenly stepping back into their group. Daphne had taken her brightness for granted, assuming the princess would command the same attention however she moved, but Stella is clearly used to hiding some of her actions, made all the more startling by other’s expectations for her.
That was one to be careful of.
“Bloom’s got all the making of a perfect princess inside of her, refinement is much less necessary than the pure determination she greets life with,” Stella continues. “And also that’s literally the same look you’ve had on your face any time I’ve seen you, Princess Daphne.”
“Princess Stella,” Daphne inclines her head in greeting. “How have you been?”
“Oh, I totally studied for this,” Stella responds. “Just, so much studying, all the time.”
Faragonda muffles a laugh in her smile, one Daphne can believe only she and Hagen caught. “Then we have high expectations for your performance.”
“Yes ma’am!” Stella salutes.
“And who are you?” Hagen asks, raising an eyebrow at the girl who forced her way into their conversation with all the subtlety of an air horn.
“Princess Stella of Solaria,” Stella replies. “And a good friend of Bloom’s. Say, Princess Daphne, I think you should teach Bloom boxing if she ever comes to you for combat training. She’s certainly got the right demeanor for it.”
“Not a sword?” Hagen whispers, sounding vaguely dejected as he turns his gaze back to Bloom, in the middle of the walkway. “Perhaps an axe, if she could build up a bit more muscle.”
“I’m sure Bloom will do fine in combat, her style has always been to hit someone with whatever’s closest,” Daphne answers.
“Bloom, are you ready to begin?” Palladium calls out over the speaker system. Bloom turns to the camera and gives them all a thumbs-up that Daphne struggles not to return.
Light builds up in the chamber, the familiar taste of sharp and sweet magic filling the air. The beautiful recreation of a world preparing to take hold.
Noise, stinging through her ears, Daphne’s eyes squeeze shut as the light flashes blindingly, tears pouring from her eyes without end.
Somewhere, beyond the shrill alarm, there is a scream. Somewhere, right beside Daphne, there is a scream.
And it is her sister’s name.
Daphne forces her eyes open, crying away the light, and through her shaky gaze she sees only an empty chamber.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When she was five years old, Bloom had learned how to swim. Before that, she’d only dipped her feet into the water at pools, or sat in the inflatable circle that Daphne had gotten her one birthday.
Slowly, Daphne walked her out into the center of the pool, Bloom’s legs kicking violently behind her. “You don’t need to try that hard,” Daphne snorted. “The water doesn’t need to be kicked like you’re trying to break a skull.”
Bloom had pouted at her and continued, until they stood in the center and then Bloom’s legs kicked without direction, she moved without space.
Daphne turned her on her back. “The first lesson isn’t to swim, it’s to float.”
The sun was directly overhead, and Bloom stared into it. Clouds swirled in and out of being as they pleased, and birds were too far away for Bloom to hear their caws.
“When you get tired, or don’t know where to go, just float,” Daphne advised. “Let your body relax, the water will carry you for as long as you need.”
Then, Daphne’s hands let go, and Bloom was stranded in the middle of the ocean. But she didn’t stop kicking. She let the ripples of water tell her that Daphne moved further and further away, and let the reaction carry her as well.
There was nowhere to go, she could just float.
Bloom is so, so tired, her eyes aching so she can’t look up at the clouds. Her ears ring with noises she can’t comprehend and that are far too loud for any situation. Her lungs feel full of water.
“Just make sure to always float face up,” Daphne said. “Break the surface if you have to do, just always return. I know you can do it.”
Bloom kicks through the thick mist in her head, reaching ever higher for any break. Somewhere, there had to be a release from the drowning. Is it beyond her though, or just beyond wherever she’s trapped?
There’s nothing but thick, misty air that greets her, sinking into her skin as waves of memories crash over her.
It had taken years for Bloom to be willing to dive beneath the surface. She’d preferred to float, or swim in circles around the shallow end. The diving board had always looked far too tall for her stubby little child limbs. It wasn’t until Mitzi had flicked her hair in her face one day and declared Bloom a coward that Bloom had climbed the ladder and stood over the pearly water.
She’d jumped without form, crashing through the glass surface and sinking.
Eyes burned and lungs ached already from the air held inside. Dark water refracting light in beams opened up before Bloom, and she could swim deeper, ever deeper, and maybe at the depths there would be something she searched for. If only she could just swim.
Instead, her head broke the surface and Bloom drew in every painful breath.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The map on Faragonda’s desk crinkles and Faragonda and Daphne chant over it, their magic washing over the paper and begging the trails of light to guide their way, but rather they slip over the realm. Spinning in lost, forlorn circles.
Daphne remembers the flash of her sister’s hair as she rushes through the door after school, the way as a kid she had used to grin showing off all her teeth. Silent nights sitting on their couch while Daphne did work and Bloom drew, quick flicks of her pencil rather than long, drawn out lines.
Whatever bond they have cannot be parted, but it is not rough for the spell, just as it is not enough for her parents.
Daphne sucks in a breath and stumbles back from the spell, a wave of nausea crashing over her as she places a hand against the bookcase to steady herself. Hands grip her shoulders and she looks up into Hagen’s concerned eyes. He had come to her side, not Faragonda’s, who sits heavily in her chair.
“If that spell didn’t work, what does that mean?” Musa asks.
Bloom’s friends had refused to not follow along. Faragonda had dismissed the class and canceled the exams when Bloom disappeared. Everyone had filed out except for the four other girls, demanding whatever they knew.
Tecna types away on her phone, Flora leaning over her shoulder and nodding along to whatever they’re muttering. Musa’s tapping her feet, arms crossed over her chest as she observes their work closely. There is a tension coiled up between all of them, a desperation that cannot be channeled in the same way Daphne’s can. They’re all novice fairies, after all.
Yet Daphne was also unable to do anything.
“It’s possible they may have left Magix,” Faragonda replies, her voice breathless and strained. It takes Daphne a second to process the sentence, to connect the words together when each had only registered individually. She nods, that does seem one of the more likely options.
“It’s impractical to search all of the outer planets, and the further away we get, the weaker any tracking spell would become,” Tecna points out, unhelpfully. Daphne already knows that searching the entirety of the universe would require portalling to far away planets and repeating the spell multiple times. At the very least, it would take a week, but in all likelihood, closer to a month.
“Perhaps if we figure out where the chamber was originally going to send Bloom, that might be connected,” Flora offers up. Bloom had always described her as a confident but soft person, talking about how Flora could take charge of their little crazy group with just a few words. She sounds shaky now, not uncertain of what she says but what any future will hold for them.
“Unfortunately, all that data was deleted,” Palladium responds, shaking his head as he closes the door to Faragonda’s office behind him. “I’ve found proof of tampering, but I can't figure out who must’ve done it!”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Stella shrugs. “It’s those 3 witches.” They’re the first words Daphne’s heard Stella say since they’ve entered the office. She leans against a wall, gazing out over the other conversations, and Daphne wouldn’t put it past her to have been listening intently, despite the relatively placid look on her face.
They were both princesses after all, and a princess knew when to shut up, and when to take charge.
“They do seem like the most likely suspect,” Daphne agrees. “But I would not put it past any old enemy of our family.”
“But not very many know about Bloom,” Musa argues. “She’s hardly told anyone, and we most certainly haven’t.”
“There’s no use in sitting here theorizing,” Hagen rumbles. His hands are no longer on Daphne’s shoulders, rather bunched into fists at his side. “Bloom could be dead at this point, we should just start searching.”
Did he say something more? Perhaps. Someone should be saying something, but it certainly isn’t Daphne.
The Dragon Flame within her roars, swallowing her heart whole, setting it ablaze with all the passion in the world, every promise she’s ever made to herself.
Bloom! She calls into the void without answer. Bloom, you must be out there somewhere!
The flame of life exists within her, and it will not be extinguished that easily. If Daphne knows that about her own eternal flame, then she knows it about Bloom’s.
Blood drips off her knuckles as the void recedes, the Dragon still coiled within her. Hagen’s eyes are glassy as they stare back at her, his teeth stained red. For a minute, she looks at a corpse, and wonders whose blood is whose.
Then, her brain returns to her, sharp as ever, and informs her she just punched her own Uncle.
“I-” Daphne stumbles over her words, perhaps her apology?
Hagen roughly wipes off his face, though the blood trickling down from his nose isn’t assuaged. “You’re right Daphne, no use in thinking Bloom is dead right now.”
Daphne nods, Daphne cannot apologize for that. Daphne will never apologize for fighting tooth and nail for the hope that her family is alive.
“I think the old man is right about us starting searching right now, though,” Stella breaks in. Everyone else is staring at her cracked knuckles, except for Stella, who’s turned back to Faragonda. Her voice calls everyone’s attention, still far too casual for the swirling emotions within Daphne. “The witches are probably skilled rough to block any tracking spell, it isn’t the hardest magic to learn. Even I do it sometimes when I do’t want my guards following me absolutely everywhere.”
“An on-foot search will take us even longer though. Covering the forest itself would take an entire day,” Tecna whirls on her friend, typing out things onto her phone that Stella pushes away.
“I mean, yeah it would, if we didn’t have any leads,” Stella shrugs. Leads? But-
“We know the witches have stuck around here, right?” Stella continues, raising an eyebrow at her friends. “The dance and ogre incident prove those. So, if I wanted easy access to Alfea whenever, I just wouldn’t leave.”
“You’re saying they’re somewhere within the school?” Daphne can’t tell if she’s more intrigued or disbelieving.
“Not exactly,” Stella shakes her head. “I’m thinking more about those secret passages between Alfea and Cloud Tower.”
“The what!” Musa screeches.
The passages.
They’re an open secret for every student. Most, if they have any sense of curiosity at all, will find out about those passages by their second year. It’s tradition for young fairies and witches to sneak through to prank the other school. Daphne had never participated in any of those pranks, but she had explored the cave system a few times.
It was the perfect place to hide. There would always be another passage to take if they ehard someone coming.
“That’s it,” Daphne breathes. “That’s where they’ll be.”
Faragonda stands up. “Palladium, gather all the teachers. We’ll be searching there. I’ll send a message to Griffin to block it off from the other side.”
Daphne can’t wait for everyone to gather though. She runs out of the room, ignoring Faragonda’s yell and Palladium’s outstretched hand. The footfalls behind her are too heavy to be either of them, rather its Uncle Hagen, just as determined as she is.
Then, wingbeats next to her face. Daphne turns to see Stella fluttering next to her, grinning from ear to ear as three more fairies turn the corner after them.
“What?” Stella asks, sparkling. “We’re coming too, of course.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness has rarely greeted Bloom when she awakens, or at least, not in the overwhelming fear people say it holds inside. When Bloom tended to open her eyes, it was to a world that she could force to light up and unfold at her fingertips. She’d never had a problem seeing in the dead of night, something she could chalk up to her powers.
The sound of three voices clashing in an argument, growing ever louder, invades Bloom’s ears. She breathes out, the slow breath of sleep, letting her body fall back and float among the snippets of life she picked up.
“The spell should’ve worked!” One snaps, voice louder than all the rest. Even in that petulant statement, there is a sense of authority to her words. A demand that the universe bends beneath her.
“We did have to cut our preparations short,” this voice is deeper, quieter, but no less sharp. Bloom can imagine someone lazily leaning back in a chair while saying this, twirling a strand of hair between their fingers.
“She might not even have the Dragon Flame!” The third voice exclaims, high and reedy. She should be the loudest of the three, but her voice does not carry the strength of the first’s that truly makes it powerful. “I told you we should have gone after that Solarian Princess again.”
“Stormy, that’s still the worst plan imaginable, she so clearly doesn’t have the flame,” the second one snorts. Darcy, the one who always seemed to peek into Bloom’s mind when they met eyes in the fight.
“And how would any of us know that? If the spell isn’t working on her, then weren’t we wrong?” Stormy demands.
The Dragon Flame.
Daphne took her hands and told her she contained the creation of the universe within her, the strongest magic known. She showed Bloom how to shape flames with her fingertips, and how to push her power out into the world.
Bloom still couldn’t bring herself to herself as any different to her friends, any more powerful, not when they could all list spell after spell without blinking, and they brimmed with magic that Bloom could see spilling out of them. They were bright and beautiful and how could Bloom be more than them when she saw universes within each of her friends?
So the witches thought Stella held the fire? In her ring? Or had thought, because they now clearly knew that fire burned through Bloom. But what had gone wrong in confirming that?
Maybe she really didn’t have the flame.
“Quiet!” Icy breaks through every conversation, cracks rocks in the tunnels that bounce the sound of their conversation throughout. A droplet of water lands on Bloom’s face and runs down the side of her cheek. “The spell most likely went wrong from missing materials or part of the ritual. We’ll just have to take her away and try again.”
“There is another option,” Darcy muses, a sinister taunt that hangs in the air.
“And that is?” Icy sounds completely unimpressed with the game Darcy is playing.
“Well, that we need more than one of them. Or perhaps we just need the other one, her sister is clearly stronger,” Darcy responds.
Daphne-
“Do you want to try capturing the other one?” Stormy asks, incredulous. Bloom can’t blame her, Daphne’s power outweighs anything Bloom’s ever seen, and she still sometimes gets the feeling that her sister hasn’t shown her past the surface of her magic yet. That doesn’t stop the rolling in her gut though, of looking for Daphne one day and finding her body in the catacombs, sliced apart and with the life in it that Bloom had only just started to recognize drained from her eyes.
That would not be happening, not if she could stop the witches here and now.
“I think we should just wait for her to come after her baby sister,” Darcy replies. “We won’t need much time to initiate the spell, and while they’re both here, we have the best chance.”
The three witches sit in silence for a moment.
“So it’s decided,” Icy declares. “Shall we prepare some traps, then?”
Stormy cackles, contrasting Darcy’s low chuckle, and the sound of their heels against rocks bounces off of cave walls.
Bloom can’t wait for Daphne, or any of the Winx, to come for her. And she doesn’t need to. Because even if the witches can’t see it, there is a flame inside of her, one that has lit up every darkness in her life and kept pulling her forwards, fists clenched and eyes burning.
There is no space within Bloom for running, for backing away from a fight, for being choked with fear. If these three are going to drain her life from her, she will not go gently. Rage is all Bloom knows sometimes, and these witches have wronged her.
Bloom is sick and fucking tired of being pushed around by these uncaring brats.
Her eyes shoot open, her feet smacking on the rock below her as Bloom rolls off the table she laid on. She grips the space around her body where her heartbeat starts and pulls out a thin line of flames, letting the air thicken it into a blaze. And as the witches turn around, Bloom transforms.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daphne races through the caverns, her mask allowing her to trace lines of energy stretching back years and years. She can see the shadow of herself at seventeen, practicing spells in the darkness.
Stella holds a ball of light in her hands, illuminating the space for them all. Musa keeps trailing her hands against the walls, energy pumping out of her as her other hand presses against her headphones. Tecna holds a shield in her hands and Flora is nervously twirling a ball of energy.
Hagen smacks his sword against the wall. “Which way now?”
What would the witches look like? Daphne can barely remember them from their only encounter, her mind too clouded with shadows at the time. She can remember the haunting of laughter that dragged her down, the way her mouth ached from electricity in the air, and the fire inside her coiled as the atmosphere dropped.
Their magic twirled through the air, the freshest memory these caves have to offer. They’ve bothered to hide Bloom’s flame, knowing that’s the easiest to track, but apparently didn’t have the same time to cover their own tracks.
“Left,” Daphne declares, leading the way.
“I still don’t hear anything from them!” Musa calls out for the group. “We must not be close yet.”
The tunnels stretched on for quite a while, even following Daphne’s magical vision, it might take them up to an hour to find Bloom.
Daphne doesn’t remember how much time it took Domino to fall, but it could’ve been an hour.
“It’s going to take too long if we keep following this winding way,” Flora agrees, and the flutter of her wings races past Daphne, the rudeness of someone in front of her making Daphne stop in her tracks. Hagen curses as he almost trips into her. “We should just go through.”
“It’s inadvisable to change these passageways,” Tecna reports. “We don’t know how that would affect the structure.”
“You may not know, but the earth can tell me,” Flora answers, pressing her palms to the wall. Soft fairy magic flows through the dirt. She’s still a beginning fairy, still weak and wondering who she’ll become. Daphne had forgotten how much of a mirage magic was at first. And yet, how powerful even the smallest drop could be.
The earth shudders beneath Flora’s light pulse of magic, falling aside and forming a line through tunnel after tunnel. It’s been a long time since Daphne has listened for the Voice of Nature, when it was so weak on Earth, yet now it sings in her ear, to the melody Flora conducts.
“Nature can handle a lot more than we give it credit for,” Flora mentions as she steps aside to let Daphne lead the way. “It’s held us up for this long, we should give it more credit.”
The traces of the witches magic are harder to find now, when they curve in ways the path they’ll take no longer leads. But Daphne can still find them.
“Musa, if you ever think I’m going the wrong way, correct me,” Daphne orders. “Otherwise, stick close. We’ll be heading into battle, you should be prepared to be struck first.”
“Daphne and I’ll lead then,” Hagen adds in gruffly, hefting his sword. “It can take a few hits.”
“We’ll be ready,” Stella promises, slipping something off her finger until there is a staff twirling in her hand, arcing light and shadow around it. “They’ve touched the wrong girl, if they think we’re letting them get away with Bloom.”
Once, as when Daphne had not conceptualized herself as a child during, she’d ran into a battle. She’d ran towards the danger, fire consuming her as she decided her blaze of glory would make as much perish as possible. She’d watched a friend get picked up by giant claws, and shot it down. They’d had infirmary beds side by side for the next week, and Daphne had signed her cast.
The bond between fairies wasn’t one to be taken lightly, no, not when the magic between them all called out. Even if Daphne had never had that… Even then…
“Let’s go then,” Daphne flies into the cave, ready to save her sister.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ice fills Bloom’s lungs. It’s a different sensation to drowning, less of a weight and more of a bleeding wound. Her skin is being peeled away, layer by layer, until every part of her is disconnected, like taped together shards of a mirror.
It’s child's play this time to burn through it all, water rising off her shoulders to swirl towards the ceiling. The caves offer very little escape for the vapor, slowly obscuring their battlefield.
Stormy cackles, electricity darting off her raised arms. “Icy, lemme show you how it’s done!”
Bloom trips backwards, away for the arcs of lightning. There isn’t a wide enough space for her to fly, and her feet aren’t as fast as her wings. The sting of electricity burns across her legs.
A shield! Everyone has one, it was one of the first things Bloom had been shown in training. She crosses her hands in front of her face, the advice of her friends clashing in her heads.
“Think of the good memories-” Flora said.
“Remember you’re in danger,” Tecna chastised.
“-Repel everything that comes your way, tune it out.” Musa advised.
“Know nothing can hurt you,” Stella whispered in her ear.
Magic flares over her, heat flashing through her body, uncoordinated and disjointed. No shield can rise as lightning hits Bloom square in the chest, sending her tumbling backwards.
It’s rock that scratches her skin, right? Or has she finally cracked from all the magic she has no idea what to do with?
If no shield will arise to protect her, then Bloom will just create a situation where she’ll never need one.
Her hand reaches out, curling the air around it, tightening until the pressure is too much and every molecule implodes into cascading sparks. The SLAP of her hands rings out, spiraling the flames towards the Trix.
The sound of fleshing hitting rock echoes once more, Icy throwing herself and Darcy out of the way as Stormy takes the brunt of her firestorm.
“I heard you girls wanted something from me and my sister,” Bloom declares, letting the shockwaves of an explosion destabilize the cave near her, the battlefield changing from straight caves to a constant threat.
“Well then, I’d suggest handing it over, before we hurt you any more than we already have!” Bloom can’t tell where Icy’s voice comes from, it feels like it's behind her and in front of her and whispering in her ear. Darcy’s work, no doubt.
It’s the feeling of blood trickling down her ankle that she notices first, the way her skin suddenly becomes aware of her blood as a foreign object now that it's escaped her confines. Bloom glances down to see ice piercing her legs, cutting through her before she has enough time to melt it.
Her feet touch ground, blood splattering around her, lighting aflame across the floor, her only little circle of safety.
Good thing Bloom had not planned to run.
Stormy was still groaning on the ground from Bloom’s last hit, so Bloom just let the flames surround her. She wouldn’t be able to get through those for a while, at the very least.
Magic isn’t easy to cast, not for Bloom. It’s natural, yes, the constant itch of her veins and the breath that pumps through her lungs. But everything, everything, is so hard. Every direction she tries to give goes ignored. Every order her body rebels. Why is that, in the classroom, her magic is lost beneath rules and rules that she cannot dig herself out of? Why is this so hard, when she contains a universe within her?
There’s no direction to the way her flames spread, her hands slamming into stone and bringing up wall after wall of sweltering heat. Icy and Darcy have to be hiding here somewhere, and she will bring down this entire cave if that’s what it takes to find them.
And by Dragon, does her magic respond.
Roaring to life inside of her, everything just wants to escape. Her body, even draped in fairy garment and finally open to her power, isn’t enough to contain everything that pours out of her. Her heart is beating beating beating far too fast wanting to run and fly and escape to the open sky.
Where is the Dragon that wants to pour from her lips?
And where are the witches that she will kill?
Stone melts into lava—so that’s what it looks like—and curls around her feet and yet still there is no sign of the witches other than that haunted, disconnected laughter.
And then, electricity burns through her side, her face barely able to turn to catch sight of Stormy, and the one behind her still in her cage of flames.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The call of the Dragon rushes through Daphne and she has never felt such sweet relief, such beautiful resonance, than to know her sister is alive. Her bond calls out to her, vibrating in Daphne’s bones as every bit of magic within her responds to the force Bloom is exuding.
Daphne doesn’t need anyone to lead the way anymore.
“Hurry!” She calls back, the only warning she can remember to give the rest of them as she lets magic fill her wings and carry her faster, space seemingly warping around her.
She hears no arguments behind her, only the flutter of wings speeding after her.
Flora’s magic fills the air once more, and the cave rumbles around them, a final door opening.
It’s too dark to see, mist hanging in the air, broken by wisps of dying flames. But the gaps are filled in anyways, the dark taste of the witches permeating the cave, and Bloom’s bright presence flickering.
Light makes it even worse, breaking through the enclosed sky and shining through crevices. Stella’s magic, tossed from her staff as Stella takes up battle position behind Daphne, the other’s following suit.
Bloom struggles on her knees, hands pressed against her side as burns and blood form a mosaic on her skin. Breath trickles from her lips as she glares at the witches, still just enough magic left within her to fight.
And Daphne knows what to do here. She prefers the known battlefield, strewn with blood, to the looming and lost threat.
She prefers knowing her sister bloody and broken to her sister lost beyond her grasp.
Ribbons cut through the air, twirling from Daphne’s hands and locking around the witch that bites into Daphne’s sense like cold shards of glass. The ice one, if Daphne remembers correctly. Lace interlocks into chains, binding limbs and burning into skin. “Take the other two!” She orders, as she races forward.
One at a time, one at a time, taking on a coven of witches together is a bad idea. Witches are at their strongest where they pool their magic together into their barrage of curses. Alone, Daphne knows she’ll be the better fighter.
Spikes of ice cut into her path, but Daphne has always been a good flier. The only thing the ice manages to stab is her dress. She’s already crafting spells in her hands, sleep curling around her fingers.
The witch’s hands grab the chain, flesh searing off as a spell from her lips echoes through the cave.
“Daphne!” Bloom’s voice is all Daphne knows, the only thing she is ever certain of. Flames that are not hers but of her, connected to her, hers by association because she is her sister’s and her sister is her’s and their magic is so intertwined in a way Daphne cannot remember since Mother.
And the ice that was about to shred her wings bursts into vapor.
Daphne grips the witch’s face, her magic piercing through all her defenses, and the witch slumps.
She had been too reckless, underestimated her opponent, rushed in too quickly.
These thoughts she discards from her brain, better to be thought of another time. The battle still rages around her, calls of spells conflicting.
Musa has trapped one of the witches in a sound bubble, her doppelgangers glitching as her concentration wavers. Stella slashes through them one by one with her staff, the form of it invisible from all the light covering it.
Hagen is taking on the other witch, who flies around the air, electricity connecting her to the walls. She can’t move far though, before a new vine wraps around her ankles, and she can’t land a hit, Tecna jumping in front with a shield before any lands.
Has he lost his touch? It’s been a while since Daphne has seen Hagen fight, yet he moves slower.
He must still remember her moves though.
She lines up her shot. “Duck Uncle!” She calls out, his strike going off kilter as he immediately obeys. The witch doesn’t have enough time to take advantage of his guard going down, because an arrow of white hot flames pierces her arm.
The burn spreads slowly, flesh blackening around the hole Daphne has left. The cry that escapes the witch’s lips is certainly an involuntary reaction, too shocked for anything else.
One left.
But the witch is gone when Daphne turns back to Musa and Stella’s fight, Stella’s staff slashes through nothingness.
And Daphne doesn’t see in time, the third witch places her hands on her companions shoulders.
She recognizes the teleporter spell all too well though.
But there’s nothing left of them here, not if they’re smart enough to cloak themselves.
The battle is over, Daphne is the first to realize, stumbling to catch her breath against a wall, letting them answer each other’s questions.
Then-
“Bloom!”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s a beautiful day in Magix. Bloom has only been to this city twice, but she’s already starting to love it. It’s so much more busy than last time, with people lining up on the sidewalks to watch the parade and races.
Stella, Flora and Tecna have gone on ahead to wish the Specialists good luck on their races. Bloom won’t be hanging out with them today though. It’s the Day of the Rose, a day to celebrate one’s parents.
“Most planets have their own parades, but the Magix’s one is the most popular,” Daphne told her as they leaned against the side of a building, the scent of fresh pastries wafting out of the door. “Most of Domino’s parade was made up of dancers, I performed for it once.”
Bloom fiddles with the crown of white roses on her head, making sure it won’t fall off as she looks up at her sister. “Did our parents perform as well?”
“Every year, unfortunately. Father could only ballroom dance, it was a tragedy to watch him among the professionals,” Daphne snorts.
“He was even worse when your parents first got married. Only knew the most basic steps to get away with royal life,” Hagen adds in.
Bloom’s only known him for a week, Daphne introducing the both while Bloom got bandaged up in the infirmary. She calls him Uncle and Bloom calls him Hagen. But for every story Daphne’s got of their parents, he’s got another side to it. She can’t begrudge Daphne for inviting him to spend the day with them.
She sent a letter to Mike and Vanessa this morning, and hopes they won’t bring it up when Daphne visits tomorrow. But they haven’t brought up the dozens of other times Bloom has snuck them cards and little gifts, so they won’t now.
Not when Bloom’s heart is torn between Earth and Magic, and she does not want to have this conversation with Daphne when she is finally, finally learning about her birth parents.
“Do you think we could dance, next year?” Bloom asks.
Daphne pauses for a second, worrying her lips as she thinks about it. “I could certainly teach you a dance. How about it Hagen, up for joining us?”
“Not a chance,” Hagen scoffs. “You ain’t dragging me into the bloody mess.”
“Are you saying my dancing is a mess?” Daphne raises a threatening eyebrow.
“How dare you,” Bloom joins in, gasping in mock offense. “My sister dances like she belongs on Broadway.”
“Broadway?” Hagen echoes.
“A hall of warriors on Earth,” Daphne answers, keeping a much straighter face than Bloom is. “I’ll take you one day.”
Hagen grunts, not taking it as an answer. So he does know her sister well, well enough to doubt her intentions. Well enough to know she’ll lie.
Maybe better than Bloom does.
“Do you think our parents would enjoy going?” Bloom wonders.
Daphne gasps out a laugh, “Yes, absolutely, they’d love it. We’ll have to take them all at once.”
It’ll happen someday, won’t it? She’ll be the apple of her parent’s eyes, the star in their sky. They’ll slot right into her life, can’t they? Wishful thinking isn’t something Bloom should indulge in.
But if it’s so unlikely to happen, then what’s the harm in allowing her this one way?
“Hey, fairy!” A familiar voice calls out, and Bloom tilts her head to see Riven walking towards them.
Urgh.
“Hey Riven!” She responds, not feigning even the slightest bit of excitement. Daphne’s shifts behind her, squaring her shoulders, and she can feel the weight of Hagen’s glare. They really do respond quickly.
Fortunately, this is a battle Bloom can fight herself. She’s never had a problem punching someone who’s bothered her.
“Why aren’t you with the rest of your little clique, I just escaped them,” the boy asks. He’s dressed in a different uniform than normal, and holds a helmet under his arm.
“I’m spending time with my sister today, wasn’t that interested in watching your race,” Bloom responds, giving him a telegraphed once over. “Doesn’t sound like it’ll be impressive.”
To be honest, it sounds like it would be really cool. Also to be honest, she’ll just ask Stella to ask Brandon and Sky to give them a ride around sometime. Maybe she can get a permit here!
“I thought you would’ve wanted to spend time with the crowd today, y’know, given you seem to be a beacon for trouble. Did a kidnapping not make you any more cautious?” He rolls his eyes.
“What the utter fuck?” The words burst out of Bloom’s mouth, but she has no inclination to take them back. “I was kidnapped you ass! What victim-blaming sort of shit is that?”
He raises his hands, a sign of surrender turned into mockery. “Hey, hey, I’m just saying. Thought you would’ve been holed up in your safe little dormitory, but hey, if you wanna wander around the streets, more power to you.”
“Well, given I’ve escaped those witches every time, I don’t really see the danger,” Bloom spits out. “But maybe you should be more careful, I don’t think you’d do as well with them as I do.”
“That’s only because others pick up your slack,” Riven shoots back. “But have a nice time, and don’t bother watching the race, I’ll win anyway.”
“Fuck off,” Bloom mumbles as he saunters away.
“So, Specialists haven’t changed all that much, it seems,” Daphne observes. She doesn’t bother to comfort Bloom with words, or tell her to calm down, but the hand she lays on her shoulder offers Bloom all the support she needs.
“Maybe I should ask Saladin to let me teach those kids for a special class, I could drill some respect into them,” Hagen grumbles. “Maybe after I teach you a few things Bloom, wanna learn to sword fight better than them?”
“I’ll think about it, Daphne’s already offered,” Bloom responds, relaxing back on the wall.
Nothing can ruin today, not with the sun shining, not with her companions smiling. She’s going to learn so much about her parents today and then they won’t be strangers when Daphne finally finds them.
“So, how did our father learn to dance better?” Bloom continues the prior conversation, letting this encounter flow from her mind.
And at the end of the day, she waves goodbye to the other two before returning to Alfea. And at the end of the day, she has no grave to lay these roses on, and no hands to place them in, so she burns them into the sky instead, and hopes their ashes reach wherever her parents ended up.