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It’s funny how the universe favors people sometimes.
Ophelia hadn’t thought about it before, but now–now that she was settled, she thought as she wriggled her fingers and her toes–it almost made sense. How close they had come to losing, how they barely managed to come off with a win, how they… how they all of it, really. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t nice, but it almost made sense that it all happened that way.
Maybe the echoes made sense in their own way.
There was a creak of wood from the other side of the house. Ophelia didn’t bother to turn her head as Thorn approached, pulling her close from the side and kissing her forehead, a hand grazing her belly.
“It’s too early to tell yet,” she said.
“But I know,” he replied.
They had got their happily ever after after all.
—
It was complex and detailed, and Ophelia would rather not remember it, but they had made the inverse of a Horn of Plenty (even thinking of Plenty like this would cause her to fall to the floor in tears, and thinking of its inverse would cause her much worse), but it what it took from her, it mainly took in its creation.
When she had faced it to retrieve Thorn–all she gave it was her suffering. In return, she got Thorn, her fingers, and something else she couldn’t detect until later.
For once, the universe had favored her.
—
When the doctor had reevaluated her, with Thorn by her side, it was almost worse than telling him she was infertile, but in the best of ways–she wailed into his shoulder, tears of pure joy, tears of magic and freedom.
Her first adult choice, given back to her, a choice she had already made a thousand times over, a choice that she had stopped dreaming of, a choice that Thorn had refused to let himself think of.
She revisits that moment often, in her head, when everything else gets to be too much. The joy, the relief, the tears, Thorn’s arms around her.
Her Thorn.
—
It had been a few months, and her stomach was finally rounded, rounded to where anyone could look at her and see she was pregnant. No more snide comments, no more second guessing, no more fears laughs on if she had eaten a bit too much from her uncle.
The universe was hers.
—
It was a snowy morning when she woke up. It was still dark out, but still bright thanks to the fresh coating of snow and the way it reflected any light; it was minimal now, but she still felt comfort from the reflection, a soft reminder that it was real and okay, a soft reminder of… everything, really.
She felt Thorn pull her in closer with his arm, still deep in sleep, but not letting her go. One arm under her neck, one arm around her midsection, hand gently caressing her belly.
They had won, and they had won together.