Chapter Text
Bloom felt another wave of nausea and queasiness hit her as she hurled her lunch into the toilet. She prayed to the Great Dragon that it had been just the flu or a virus she picked up while on vacation in Solaria. She was the powerful fairy of the dragon flame, leader of the Winx, and guardian fairy, yet she was brought to her knees by her own body.
Then there were several sticks laying on the floor next to her. All of them were different kinds, all of them were positive. She should be excited, happy, over the moon for such a positive sign. Instead she was terrified, a sense of dread running up her spine like one of Icy’s icicles stabbing into her. Her hands were shaking, her heart was pounding in her chest, her mascara was stained along her cheeks from her tears. The red-orange haired woman let out a choked laugh, if Stella was in the bathroom with her, she would make some comment about what a mess she looked. Bloom was supposed to be the great fearless leader of the Winx, fairy of the dragon flame, princess of Domino, and defender of Magix. But right now she felt like a scared teenage girl who just found out she was pregnant.
“Why? Why? Why?” She whispered to herself, her voice cracking up in her throat.
Her life was amazing, it was like a fairy tale. Meeting Stella, arriving at Alfea, befriending the rest of the girls who would become the Winx, battling evil forces like the Trix. Even her love life seemed like something out of a storybook. Sky was kind, loyal, and brave. He was a real life Prince Charming out of her storybooks. Sure, they had some fights and trials, but nothing they couldn’t get through together. Only she didn’t love Sky. Sure, she liked her, they’ve been through so much, but love was a whole other feeling. Love was the feeling she got with him. Yet she stayed with Sky, they stayed so long together that she became his fiancé. The gold of her engagement ring glistened in the light of the bathroom, mocking her. She thought she could learn to love him, long enough to love him truly.
She hadn’t expected it, neither did he, but it just happened. Between the fighting, the constant tension was there, the electricity between them. It sounded cheesy, outright crazy, but it just felt right. Valtor was no more than a puppet for his mistress’ wills, manipulated into hating her, her family, and the Great Dragon themself. They had little private moments in the darkness of shadows, away from the other Winx and the Trix. It pained her to see that monster, the winged demon, in place of the man she truly loved. The Winx had found her shaking after he had been destroyed by her own hands. They thought it was out of fear, but it was out of despair.
Bloom put on a smile and faced it all, yet inside she was being pulled apart at the seams. She was training to be royalty (princess of Domino, then queen of Eraklyon), protecting the planet as its guardian fairy, and preparing for her own wedding. The fairy of the dragon flame was tearing herself in different directions all for the sake of a dimension that desperately called out for its savior.
The princess of Domino let out a hitched sob, “I can’t do this, I-I can’t do this.”
How could she? She barely had time to herself, to relax, to even breathe. Someone somewhere always needed to be saved and she always was the one they wanted to save them. No one knew, not Sky, not the Winx, not her parents. The Winx rarely got together anymore, they were preoccupied with their own adult lives now. Stella and Aisha had their own royal duties, Flora had gone into teaching, Musa went into the music producing business. Tecna and Timmy started their own tech company together, at least they were happy.
Then there was Sky, her prince. He was busy with his own duties. How could he understand? There were times they didn’t connect, didn’t see eye to eye. They were from different worlds, after all. Underneath all of the fire, all of that shimmer and glow, Bloom was still the girl from Earth.
What happened to that girl? When did her life become dull and montone? Going from one battle to the next? She wanted to graduate high school, dreamed of majoring in art in a nice college, dating a nice guy or two. Instead here she was sitting in one of the bathrooms of her family’s castle, reflecting upon her life’s choices. Could she even call these people her family? Sure, Queen Marion and King Oritel were nice people, wonderful but could she really call them her parents? They weren’t the ones who nurtured her hobby of drawing, they weren’t the ones who picked her up from school every day. Did they even know her favorite color? How she liked her eggs? Bloom Peters lived in Gardenia, California, her parents were Vanessa and Mike Peters, and she once had a life there. But she was also Princess Bloom of Domino, youngest daughter to King Oritel and Queen Marion. They weren’t the people who raised her, the Peters did. She and Daphne got along well enough, not enough to be sisters, but well enough. But what would happen if she told her? Would she view her as a traitor? An enemy?
What would happen if she told Daphne or the rest of the Winx or even anyone that the child inside of her was Valtor’s? No one would view her as a savior, or even as a guardian fairy. She’d be stripped of everything she had, she’d have nothing and no one.
”I can’t do that to you.” She cradled her stomach between the sobs. She couldn’t stay in a place that placed her on a Arcadia damn pedestal, but also cursed the man she loved.
Bloom had to leave before they damned her own child too.
Michelle let out a sigh of relief when her last period finally ended. Algebra was a pain in her ass. All those numbers and letters made her head spin if she looked at her worksheets for too long. She had ended up doodling in her notebook, instead of counting down the last minutes of the class. A little girl with wings was scribbled between the lines, making Michelle smile. The murmur of voices and shuffling of feet made her close the notebook shut and gather up her things.
“Do all the even numbered problems and have a good weekend.” The teacher called out to the students as she walked out the classroom. Michelle’s strawberry blonde ponytail bounced as she walked through the hallways stacked with lockers and crowded with students of Los Angeles High.
“Yo, Michelle!” One of LA High’s quarterbacks (Trent? Troy? Travis? She only knew him from chemistry class), waved her over, “Are you ready for the party this weekend? My parents’ beach house, nice spot along the coast.”
“I may have to take a rain check on that.”
“Oh come on, Elle.” Valerie, one of her friends, sighed, “You never hang out with us outside of school.”
“Sorry, got a lot of homework.” That was the excuse she used, either that or already had plans. She wasn’t exactly a party person, but she was too polite to just say no.
“Whatever, but if you change your mind, I’ll save you a spot by the bonfire.”
“Sure.” Her phone buzzed, a message from her mom popped up on the screen, “I need to go, see you.” Michelle waved goodbye and walked away with a heavy weight in her heart.
The girl walked by the art class, seeing all those blank drawing papers and colored pencils left a bad taste in her mouth. She used to like art, used to enjoy drawing her heart out, entire notebooks filled with sketches. Her stopping was for the best, she drew disturbing stuff. Things she claimed to see every night; elderly women with silver hair dressed in rags, a maroon winged demon, and a blackened skeleton with bird wings. As a little girl, Michelle would wake up screaming, flailing her arms around to protect herself from the demon’s claws. Her mother would hold her close, keeping the demon from hurting her again. Looking back, Michelle wasn’t sure what a hug could do to keep away nightmares.
Everyone else thought she was just making stuff up like kids always do, only her mother seemed to believe her. She got bullied for her creepy drawings, mocked and pushed around. So she stopped drawing to keep the bullies away, stopped telling anyone about her nightmares, and just became normal.
Except sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, Michelle could’ve sworn the old grey haired women were still watching her. Not in her dreams, but staring at her in the real world.
As she glanced at a nearby window, there in the reflection, a woman with white and grey hair floated ominously. Her dark robes floated just above the ground. Michelle’s breath hitched as the hag slightly tilted her head to the side, staring directly at the girl. No one else saw her, no one ever did, passerbys passed by the window as if there was nothing there. All Michelle could do was count down in her head as the seconds ticked by. Seconds passed, the old woman simply smirked, her teeth stained with rot, dirt, and blood.
Then Michelle blinked and the old woman was gone.