Work Text:
There were not many things that she could remember about her mother. The days of her childhood were a great many years behind her- clouded memories that were mostly reduced to flickers of scenery with only a hint of the emotions that would be attached to them. There was quite a bit of evidence of her mother's lavish existence, of course, in paintings and faded parchments and logbooks. What was written was dispassionate and impartial which told her very little about who her mother had been as a person outside of her status among the other nobility of her time. The Countess Dimitrescu was a highly respected and educated woman- she knew this and little more.
Children born into wealth and station back then were rarely handled by their own parents. Instead, they were given over to nurses, nannies, and tutors to mind them and mold them into everything they should be. Prim, proper, educated, poised.. Trained to speak only when spoken to, and most of all, to be quiet. Children were accessories- assets to further potential gains, daughters to marry off to rich husbands, and sons to carry on bloodlines. Outside of mealtimes and an occasional walk around the grounds, the majority of their time was spent in a nursery full of luxurious toys but absent of parental guidance outside of an austere nursemaid to watch over them.
She could remember spending a rare evening in her mother's sitting room here and there, watching her mother drink tea from fine china while she sat on a plush cushion near her feet. Whether they spoke to her or not, she could not recall any particular voice. The only time she ever recalled her mother even touching her had been when she was sick- and sick she was often. That, at least, she could remember.
Another fever had kept her trapped in her bed- a frail, miserable little thing that couldn't decide if it was too hot or too cold. The nurses must have thought it was dreadfully serious if they had dared to bother her mother over it. But bother her they had, and come she did. The Countess had held her wrapped in a soft blanket in front of the fireplace, pulled in close and secure to her body. Kisses were pecked on her sweaty brow as fever dreams wove in and out of her consciousness. When she had been put back to bed, fever broken, the blankets had been pulled up and tucked tightly around her body to keep her warm. It was so against the norm that it had been a treat. Her fever was worth the little bit of warmth showed to her by the woman who had birthed her. It also proved her place in her mother's life, and the importance or not that was placed on her general well-being.
If nothing else, that particular memory alone had tempered how she would view a mother's role in her own child's life. When she had been blessed with three children of her own, she was thankful to have at least that to fall back on. Her girls, though appearing physically mature, were anything but. They were so truly, sweetly, adorably innocent back then as they stared up at her in newborn wonder as though the moon itself hung in her golden eyes. There was no nurse, nanny, or tutor she would have ever trusted their care to. It was she, instead, who taught them to walk on legs as wobbly as a newborn foal's, to speak with throats new and coarse with disuse, and to feed as voraciously and ruthlessly as she.. if not a little messier.
At first, she had tried to settle them into the nursery across the hall from her own private chambers, having a group of maids prepare three proper beds for them. She taught them to brush their hair, clean their faces, and pull on their nightclothes. The first night, when the sun was beginning to fall beyond the horizon, she had pulled on the memory of her own mother, using it to decide how to be a mother herself.
Mothers should hold their daughters close. Mothers should kiss their daughters. Mothers should tuck their daughters in at night.
One by one, she had pulled each girl into her arms, her hand firm on their backs as they quickly cuddled in against her side. The soft sound of a rattling of glass wings- like rain on a windowpane- coming from their bodies indicated that they appreciated and enjoyed the affection. She had, too, her arms lingering around each girl until they decided to loosen their hold first. Her oldest had come back for seconds, humming in pleasure as she had been swept up off her feet and carried to the first bed. Settling the girl beneath the lush blankets, she had placed a gentle kiss on the top of her daughter's blonde head before tucking the blankets in warm around her deceptively mature frame. Standing and turning back to the others, a little laugh had bubbled itself out of her mouth as the other two had eagerly raised their arms up. Her middle daughter was carried, kissed, and tucked next while the youngest waited bouncing rather impatiently on her tippy-toes. She had found it necessary to give an extra kiss on the top of her strawberry auburn head before she would settle enough to be tucked in.
Of course, it had all been for naught. She had barely had time to wash her face and brush out her hair before her bedroom door had creaked open just enough to allow them to slip in. Three sets of slightly fearful cornsilk eyes stared pleadingly up at her as they gathered to her side at her vanity. Very quickly, she had discovered she didn't have the heart to send them away. In the night, her eldest would go on to quietly insist upon possessing her left arm, her blonde head tucked close to her mother's neck so that little wisps would blow in the soft breeze of her breath. Her middle daughter found her way beneath the blankets to be a balled up lump against her back, knees pulled up to tuck beneath her chin that would occasionally kick out as she dreamt. For that reason, and because she absolutely did draw the line at allowing Daniela to sleep atop her, her youngest would curl along behind her big sister's back with one hand reached over to hold a tight handful of her mother's gown. And so they had coslept for nearly a year.
Eventually they had not needed her presence to feel safe throughout the night and would allow her to tuck them in to the nursery. Not long after, they chose rooms for themselves along the same hall so that they were still near to her, but had a bit more independence and personal space as their individual personalities began to develop. Still, every night she made her rounds to each bedroom, shuffling a daughter off to bathe and change before circling back to find them suitably clean and ready to be tucked in. Even long after the need for her to remind them passed, the routine sporadically persisted. Her daughters seemed to thrive on her doting attention, and she was more than happy to oblige.
"Mamă?"
Alcina blinked hard, amber eyes refocusing as she turned to look down at her youngest. Daniela laid curled around where her mother sat on the side of her bed, watching her with curious eyes. "Da, draga mea?"
"You looked far away just then."
"Why would I be far away-" She smiled, making quick work of tucking the blankets around her youngest's shoulders. "-when I could be right here with you?" The redhead grinned up at her, honey eyes sliding shut as her mother leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Noapte bună, draga mea."
Behind them, the door creaked open to allow a brunette head to poke in through the gap. Golden eyes found the two on the bed as she pouted. "Mamă, you're taking too long." she half-whined.
"Move!" A voice demanded behind her, a hand appearing to grip the top of the brunette head before pushing it down enough to let her oldest to peak in. "Don't forget us, too, Mother- Aoleu!" She hissed as the brunette shoved her off, knocking the door open as she did. "Cassandra!"
"I haven't tucked any of you in for bed in years." Alcina said as Bela and Cassandra pushed into the room, the former rubbing the ache out of her side from her sister's shove.
"Yes, Mother," Bela began, "But-"
Cassandra cut in, coming and hopping onto her knees on the end of the bed. "But we heard Dani ask you to.. so we were going to ask.." She looked up at her mother, unsure. "Is that okay?"
"Of course, dragii mei." came the answer before Alcina stood from her perch on Dani's bed. "I'm coming."
"Wait!" Dani wriggled in her constraints, pulling one arm out of the blanket and reaching towards the dressing table and the bowl of pinkened water upon it where she had washed her face clean. Dipped in the bowl was a green-handled scythe, wickedly sharp and soaked clean. "My scythe!"
Cassandra laughed, reaching out and giving Dani's foot a shake through the blanket. "What are you going to do, Dani? Hunt in your dreams?" she teased.
"I'll hunt you down, Cassi!"
"Girls.." Alcina's voice was a warning, though a gentle one. She hid her smile as she turned to lift the cleaned weapon from the table and wipe it dry with the soft flannel laying beside the bowl. When she placed the deadly tool into her daughter's waiting hand, she watched it slip beneath the pillow and out of sight. "Now, then.." she hummed, turning out the ornate beside lamp.
"Come on, Mother!" Cassandra took her mother's hand, leading her to the door and out into the hallway where Bela waited to take the other. "Me next?"
"Mamă?" Dani's voice called from the darkened room, her eyes shining molten gold as they reflected the lit chandelier in the hallway.
"Da, Daniela?"
"Te iubesc, Mamă."
Most importantly of all, mothers loved their daughters.
"Și eu te iubesc."