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Living with a werewolf was both what you might expect and nothing like what you’d expect. Of course, the fact that said werewolf had brought his infant werecoyote daughter with him brought a whole other dynamic into the relationship. She had always known she needed and relied on Noah’s unflappability in the face of anything but watching this play out with adding a third to their relationship made her fall into even further love with the man. That this was all happening while she was also falling in love with the werewolf was both eye opening and confusing by turns.
Claudia had never been one to think that love needed to be confined to one monogamous marriage or relationship. Brought up as she had been she had always seen and known that love was to be shared and spread out. The definitions of the love varied and depended on each individual person and what they needed or wanted. She knew she would have never let herself fall into this type of love for Peter Hale if she didn’t also know to the very core of her being that Noah was falling in love as well.
She also knew how both of the men looked at her. As if she was the sun and they were the moons in orbit. She was not selfless enough to deny how much she craved this attention and loved being worshipped by two such wonderful men. To make up for this bit of selfishness she gave them all of herself in return. She praised and lifted them up, she gave Noah a son and loved Peter’s daughter as her own. She also tried to turn them to each other as well, made sure it was not all about her but also about them.
There was a darkness that would come to claim her, she knew it in her very bones. She had denied that this darkness would come for a long time but the moment she lay eyes on Peter Hale and all her instincts told her that this man was essential to have in her family’s life, was the day she finally admitted to herself that she would be there to see her son grow up.
The old paths and old gods had been ever present in her life when she was a child. The Gajos family did not ever forget their roots and country of origin. Polish was spoken at home, the only fairy tales of her childhood had been filled with creatures, darkness and witches. There were always rules to follow, put salt here, this god required this flower, honor the goddess of death and the legacy of Baba Yaga would always flow in her family’s blood.
Her younger sister had been the true bearer of the family legacy and so had been the one constantly taught and brought everywhere. She was the dud child, the one without the way in her. Her runes and spells would fizzle, her potions turned sour. She had never wanted the family legacy, always wanted to be more, find something else. She left as soon as she could, went to college, met a boy, fell in love, got married.
Fate it would seem could not be outrun. Seeing Peter at that Wal-Mart, knowing in a moment that he was meant for her, for Noah and for her Mischief, brought back every story ever told. It was the only family gift she had, the only path she could take, her sight. Her knowledge of things had never been consistent enough to be of use to her family so it was ignored. Nevermind, that for years she pushed it away and ignored it when it called. She could count on one hand the times she had listened to it, when it had called so strongly she could not resist.
The first time had been when she met Noah and her whole being sang that this, this was who she must follow. The second, when Mischief was born and the name on her lips came out. The third when the sheriff’s posting came up for Beacon Hills and Noah had waffled on if it was the career move he should make. The fourth was bringing Peter into their lives. The fifth was not so much something she needed to follow but something she knew was inevitable.
All this was not yet though, now, she could laugh at her son’s devotion to the baby he had claimed as sister. She could capture Peter’s mouth into a kiss and teach him what it meant to be loved unconditionally. They could go to parks and movies, she could fill her life and theirs with laughter and love.
She still taught her son Polish, she still told him the stories she had grown up with. For all that she left her family behind she was not so foolish as to believe it would never come back to lay claim to her son. The blood and legacy of the Baba Yaga was not one to dismiss lightly. She didn’t know if this legacy would claim her child, it was not one of the insights given to her. Part of her was grateful for that, it was hard enough to carry the burden of knowing the grief her passing would bring upon her family. To add to that knowledge that her son would be brought into the old world and it’s ways would have been too much.
Claudia knows she is not perfect, she knows that not telling Noah or Peter of what she knows and what is to come is not necessarily the best decision. But she can’t tell them, she can’t face their sadness, she doesn’t want to see their pain, she is too selfish for that. So she loves and laughs, and draws them together. She teaches her Mischief how to love and laugh as well.
When the darkness does come for her, when her days are numbered and she cannot hide from them anymore is when she finally tells him the truth. She pours out her story in bits and pieces and she knows this is just another form of selfishness. After she is done, she holds his hand tight and apologies for the pain she is giving. He grips back and tells her she has nothing to be sorry for and she loves him deeply for this lie. Then she asks one more thing of this man, this man that loves with his entire being and doesn’t know how to love any other way.
“Promise me, please promise me you won’t leave them. Don’t let me be the only thing that binds you to them. Please Peter, they will need you.”
Tears fall down both their faces as he pulled her tight into his arms and whispers back, “I promise.”