My Crazy Years

How they feel... and some extra cuteness at the end...I hope

She took one more look at the fresh swept counter, trying to find any bits of dust that she may have missed. Her sight wasn't what it used to be. She could barely distinguish things that were close to her. She ordered a pair of glasses not long ago, before her youngest daughter left to live with her uncle, yet she always forgot to wear them just like she always forgot where the vacuum cleaner's head brush was. She never seemed to find it.

Letting out a long sigh, she took the rag again and spayed the cleaning substance once more. She began to scrub, putting more strength than necessary, trying to get rid of the dirt that wasn't there, not thinking of how empty the house felt now. Granted, she and (Y/N) barely talked, but at least she would know that she was there, locked in her room, drawing and listening to music or in the garden, weeding out the flowers. At least, she was close, and the two of them could talk whenever they wanted, even if the conversations didn't end always nicely.

The sound of a lock being opened came from the front door and Sebastian stepped inside, hands holding grocery bags filled to the brim. He looked at his wife, Norah, and gave a faint smile. She still couldn't get used to seeing him home so early.

"Hey! Care to help?" he asked, gesturing with his head to the bags in his hands.

"You can handle it. Why didn't you call me to ask if we needed anything?" she replied annoyed, continuing to scrub the counter, even faster than before.

"Sorry. I forgot. Did you speak with (Y/N) today?" her husband spoke as he went and placed the groceries on the kitchen table.

"Yes. You could phone her too, you know." Norah finished her task and headed to unpack the content of the bags. As usual, he bought too many fruits that will undoubtfully end up in the trash.

"It's enough to know she's fine. We're going to see her anyway next weekend." Sebastian said and took an apple from one of the bags, washing it under the sink's running water.

What could he ask her about anyway? She was fine, school was ok. The same old answers that she always repeated like a broken record no matter the question. He heard about her bullying, but did nothing, too caught up in his own troubles. Even then... "Everything's fine. Don't worry." ... that was all she ever said. He wasn't a man of feelings. He wanted logic and numbers. That was how he was raised, how he always did things in life. That was not to say that he did not regret it, the time lost seeing his daughters grow. Three daughters he had, yet he sometimes felt like he barely knew them. What sort of food they liked, what dreams they had, sometimes he could barely remember their birthdays. But at least they had something to eat, they had clothes, they could afford everything he never had as a child. That thought alone helped him bear the chasm that kept on growing and growing between him and his own children. It made him understand that his sacrifice had a meaning.

The King reached out a hand to pat one of the shades that came to look at the bright creatures that entered their lair. They looked at him and at the clear invitation to accept his kindness for a few moments, before they scurried away, back into the darkness of the small room, hidden by a door in the basement of James' home. Sighing and with a bitter feeling in his chest, the Wyrm let his arm fall limp by his body. The rejection hurt more than he thought it ever would, dancing together with the guilt and fear on a song played by self-hatred. Lying didn't help at all anymore. The cost was much greater than he ever realized, the love and life of his own children. And for what?

In the end, all it took him and Radiance to cease their war was a threat so great that neither of them would have been able to stop it and for Grimm to reach his breaking point and a huge man-child that needed supervision most of the time. Then... what did he sacrifice his own children for? Was all their pain for nothing?