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Staring awake up at the ceiling, wide-eyed and out of breath, isn’t a new phenomenon for Mel. If anything, it’s practically ritualistic. It would be odd if she went two weeks in a row without one. Any relaxation earned via a hot bath in the evening is sure to be made undone by Mel waking up in a cold sweat, goosebumps left trickling down her skin whilst she screamed into a pillow.
The horrors of her past still hadn’t refused to stop haunting her but for the first time in nearly twenty years, it isn’t dreams keeping Mel Medarda awake in the middle of the night.
It is her unborn daughter.
“Celia Estella Medarda.” Mel whispers the precious name her husband had chosen for their baby girl through gritted teeth, already invoking in full at such an early age. She closes her eyes shut, a desperate bid at trying to magically will her daughter into calming down. “Please let me rest already.”
Her daughter’s reply is in the form of what feels like more endless, uncomfortable squirming before she settles on pressing against her diaphragm in what felt like, at least to Mel, a small act of protest. Mel’s breath catches in response and she blinks back the tears that were beginning to prickle at her eyes in frustration.
It takes a high amount of restraint to not reach over and desperately shake her husband awake. If it were another night, she would’ve secretly taken a moment to appreciate how adorable Viktor looks in his sleep. Instead, the fact that he’s able to snore the night away while utterly oblivious to his wife’s silent suffering earns him a glare in the dark - even if it isn’t his fault.
He isn’t the only one guilty either: near the edge of their bed lies a sleeping Rio. There’s a noticeable dip in the mattress due to her extra weight but Rio remains how she always is: content and nuzzled between her two favorite people; the warmth from her purring faintly tickling Mel’s toes.
Oh, how she lovingly resents the two of them.
“Fine. You win, little one.” Mel pettily pouts down at her taut belly, a hand caressing over where her daughter fidgeted the most, consciously avoiding where her sigils were. Even after having them seared across her body, Mel still never touches them—at least never intentionally. She had mentally prepared herself for the weight gain, the mood swings, and all the other pains and surprises that would come along with her pregnancy but this? Mel hadn’t asked for any of it.
She tries not to think about how her own body terrified her more often than not these days. Or how she’s scared of what impact it might have on her child.
“Jayce and I think it’s…probable that the baby triggered the latent magical abilities you already have. I-” Viktor paused and Mel hated the look of guilt that flashed across his face. Quickly, she gripped his hand in hers and placed it on her stomach - a silent reminder of what they had both wanted and how what was happening now wasn’t his fault.
He rubbed his temple and continued. “We have no idea what impact the Hexcore will fully have on the child yet. Hopefully it’s none but… There’s just too many questions Mel. Too many variables.”
The worst part for Mel is having no answers. Not even after trying to find them herself: countless letters sent to her mother asking - no, begging - for answers on why, how, this is happening to her.
(There is never any answer to her letters. They only serve as another glaring reminder of her mother’s continuous rejection.)
The mother-to-be sat still in bed for another minute in futile resistance, hoping her baby girl would finally settle in response. All she feels once some time passes is more kicking and the sudden, very intense urge to eat carrots dipped in applesauce or spread with cottage cheese.
Her incessant need to nibble on baby carrots during her pregnancy had resulted in Viktor annoyingly referring to her as his ‘bunny’ in private.
Placing a hand firmly against the bed, Mel pushes against it to help bolster herself up with a grunt. It’s a chore for her to move around these days, especially due to how easily winded she became. Some of the accessibility aids around their home for Viktor surprisingly helps her with moving about but a part of Mel always manages to feel guilty despite Viktor encouraging her to use them.
Holding a hand steady against her lower back to help support the extra weight she carried, Mel’s nearly halfway to the kitchen - and her delicious, sweet carrots - when she catches her own reflection in a hallway mirror and freezes.
She’s grown used to waking up and finding the sigils branded across her body glowing on their own, wisps of the arcane flaring out from her skin like the sun. The sight isn’t new to her and in the weeks since following her awakening, she found herself jumping at what she saw back in the mirror far less. It didn’t stop her from shying away from staring at herself too long but tonight, what Mel saw in the reflection gave her pause.
She can feel Celia stir uncomfortably from within, almost like she’s waiting for something from within the womb, right before Mel lets out a soft gasp.
The blue glow is faint at first, a dim light that feels unsure of itself before it begins to pulse more strongly from the depths of Mel’s abdomen. It’s a similar shade of blue that Viktor and Jayce had laughed and hovered in when she first declared that the era of magic, the era of Hextech, had officially begun.
All she can do is blink down at her stomach, feeling the arcane flourish inside of her as her child’s magic begins to awaken and reach out for her mother’s. Celia’s magic feels more wild, disorientated even, compared to Mel’s own and her magic is already responding to her subconscious desires: to provide her daughter comfort. The thicker, golden strands of Mel’s magic swirl around her belly, interlacing with the tiny, beautiful tendrils of baby blues and violet that flare from Mel’s baby bump.
The logical, rational part of Mel knows she should be scared. That she should be worried about what she could be passing down to her daughter considering the drastic changes she had already gone through so far. But then her thoughts turn, fueled by a desperate urge to pee for the third time in the span of an hour when Celia bumps against her bladder again. The act is annoyingly human amongst what’s currently transpiring around them. It grounds her fears.
“We are both a bit different, aren’t we?” Mel whispers, lightly brushing her hand against the smooth skin of her underbelly. Intricate lines of gold now weaved between her belly button, the sigils always running noticeably warmer than her skin. At her touch, Mel carefully notices the glow within her grows stronger in hue as the baby shifts within her more. Then - a sudden rush of feelings, definitely not foreign but also distinctively not her own. It’s a tidal wave crashing against her own mind and Mel has to lean against the wall for support against the intrusion, panting as she processes what she feels and where it came from.
It was definitely from the baby, it had to have been. Her daughter was reaching out to her.
The other presence in her mind retreats but a lingering wave of their emotions hits her, less intense this time as it cautiously probes against the inner recesses of her mind. The feeling is almost tangible. It’s unsure. Scared.
Mel never wants her daughter to feel that way regarding her again.
“It’s okay.” She soothes them by placing a comforting hand on her belly again. The situation is disorienting but Mel couldn’t lose this strange but wonderful new connection between them so swiftly.
“Mommy,” Mel’s breath hitches at the word—saying it with the knowledge that her daughter can potentially understand her makes the past seven months more real than they ever have been before. “just isn’t used to…w-whatever this is?” She is so out of sorts that she’s stuttering. Mel never stutters. “This is…all new to me as well.”
I don’t know how to be your mother yet. I don’t know anything about magic to help myself, let alone give you what you properly need. I-
The rush of words are at the tip of her tongue. Despite the air of confidence she carries during the day, Mel is scared. Terrified. She tries not to let it all overwhelm her: the grip of control she feels she’s losing within not only the council, but her city, while on maternal leave. She didn’t know how to be a mage, let alone a mother.
The resounding silence throughout her home is the only answer for her before the invasive feeling returns but this time, Mel is at least better equipped to handle it. She allows herself to be vulnerable—opening up her mind to allow her daughter in…and then Mel can feel Celia’s innocent probing continue. There’s a childlike curiosity one would expect before the feeling is gone, much to Mel’s dismay. The glow in her belly doesn't dim - it only surges, growing brighter now that the child is happy. Pleased. Both Celia and her magic finally settles, her earlier kicks and thrashes becoming soft stirring in the womb.
Even Mel’s own sigils began to revert to their normal state but Mel, desperate to experience feeling her daughter so closely again, tries to tap back into her own power. Carefully, she presses back against the still developing mind, desperate to experience that connection again. Unlike her, there are no walls around Celia’s mind to breach: it’s brutally unfiltered and welcoming. The child joyfully radiates what she feels towards her once their minds intertwine: comfort, safety, love .
Mel hasn’t cried through anything so far - even when she deserved to. Not through her mother’s rejection, or Viktor excluding her from the decision making about how their child was even conceived, nor the excruciating pain she endured when her powers first awoke. None of it.
She soldiers on…no matter how much it hurts her. Until now.
The mother breaks at feeling how much her child overwhelmingly adores her already, feeling undeserving of a love so pure while she sobs alone in the dark.
Wrapping her hands protectively around her bump, Mel hopes her daughter can feel how overwhelmingly full her heart is for her.
I won’t let anything happen to you. Mel promises through this otherworldly bond they now shared. Ever.
There’s a gentle nudge against her leg while she cries and Mel manages to compose herself enough to see that it’s Rio through her tears. Concern lies deep behind the large eyes blinking up at her.
“It’s okay, it’s just my hormones misbehaving.” Mel half-lies, wiping her tears away. The mother's sniffles turn into a tender, quiet chuckle when the chubby pet affectionately rubs its face against her legs in an attempt to make her feel better.
Mel reaches down, at least as far as she’s able to, and scratches deep behind one of Rio’s gills just the way she likes; it earns her a happy, but very slimy, lick across the hand in return. “I…appreciate the comfort sweetie.” Mel thanks in a tired, half-hearted whisper.
Between the lack of sleep and the sudden outburst of magical energy from both mother and child, Mel was feeling drained.
But she still hadn’t eaten her carrots so sleep must wait.
A small smile begins to grow across Mel’s lips when a thought comes to her and Rio, ever attentive, notices and is quick to sit at attention. “How about we go get some midnight treats? But do not tell your Dad.” Mel quickly warns.
At the mention of treats, the axolotl-like creature chirps excitedly and scurries towards the kitchen before Mel can get another word in. Mel snickers to herself, knowing full well that Viktor keeps inventory on how many cabbages are stocked for Rio’s snacks.
He would know Mel fed her.
Mel would know he knew.
Then she would simply feign ignorance when he would question her about it. She would proceed with reading the paper and drinking her morning tea while Rio innocently sat at her feet.
I can’t wait to teach you all the ways to annoy your father. Mel thinks to her baby.
It’s a sudden thought, not fully intended either but she takes absolute delight in the twinkle of mischievous excitement that ripples back to her through the newfound bond between mother and daughter.