Work Text:
Lacey is Gwenys’ daughter in every inch of her being. She has no true father. The man who attacked her mother hardly counts. She refuses to consider him as such. He had no role in her childhood, no role in her life. She resents what he contributed to her looks, and is glad to have her mother’s hair. She is not ashamed of where she comes from, for her mother should never have had to feel shame. The only ones who should be shamed are those who turned a blind eye, those who let it happen. Those who would judge a frightened woman, barely grown.
She has never doubted her mother’s love, but as she had grown she had understood more and more clearly what the cost had been. Now, as a woman, her mother dead, she mourns her wholeheartedly. It was her mother who taught her everything she knows, who held her hand through the storm. Who raised her daughter as best she could, and set her up for a life that could never be easy, such as the world was, but that she knew how to survive. Lacey forged on, always, and thought of her mother each step of the way.