A/N: I have only read queen song and steel scars from broken throne so I'm basically making up the time frame of all of this. think that with this oneshots that Coriane was born about four years after Clara and Shade a year after his sister.
"Clara, you aren't going to the party tonight and that's final." Mom tells me with a tired look, waving me out of her office.
I roll my eyes and scoff.
Everyone tells me she was a rebel, a bad ass, but it's hard for me to believe it when she doesn't let me do anything "rebellious" or even remotely fun.
"It's not even a party!" I argue. "It's just me and two other friends!"
"Okay, that's enough. Go to your room."
Aunt Mare tells me that my dad was fun. He wouldn't keep me locked up in the house every weekend like some bleeding invalid.
"He would let me go." I mutter harshly under my breath.
Her pencil rips into whatever she's working on, and I regret even thinking it. She's gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles are turning white.
I take a cautious step forward. "Mom?"
She doesn't answer, eyes still trained down at her papers.
"Mom, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." I'm whispering so she knows I'm scared. Not of her, but of breaking her.
"Go to your room." She says through gritted teeth. Mom can't take mentions of him off guard, she can't take being reminded that she's alone. "Go to your room, Clara."
But I can't take her telling me no. Not again.
"I'm not sorry." I spit out and step back. "You treat me like a three year old! I should be allowed to go out with my friends! I'm sixteen!"
Mom looks back at me with tears in her eyes, tears that only come when she thinks of what she's lost. But I can't stop. Not now.
"Diana Farley, commander of the Scarlet Guard, bad ass rebel, who keeps her own daughter away from anything even close to fun because she's scared of the danger!" I've backed into the doorway now, ready to find something that I can sling across the hallway. "What are you afraid of? That everyone will see me and know I'm not as great as you? As him?"
Shes slowly standing up, turning to face me with a hard expression. "Clara-"
"No!" I yell. "It's not that. It's that I don't deserve the fun. I don't get to go to parties or have a boyfriend! I don't get to ask questions, or have anything explained to me. I don't even get to ask about him!" I step again, pressing my back against the wall. "I will go to my room! But I'm never coming out!"
I turn and start to run upstairs, but her voice stops me.
"You want explaining?" She asks harshly. "Sit your ass down and I'll explain."
She's been angry with me before.
She's never spoken to me like this.
I reluctantly sit down on a kitchen stool, and she starts pacing in front of me.
"Clara, I don't know what type of teenage breakdown this is, but I do know that you won't talk to me like that." Mom breathes out. "But since I'm just the worst mother in the entire world, let me explain."
I cross my arms and lean against the counter. I don't feel bad. Yet.
"I don't explain things to you," she starts. "because I'm your mother and I have a right to say no. I don't let you go to high school parties because I can't trust anyone there."
I roll my eyes.
"I don't talk about him-" Her voice breaks. She takes a deep breath. "I don't talk about him because the only time you ever bring him up is to guilt trip me."
I don't make any movements. I don't react where she can see. But on the inside, I'm breaking.
Am I a terrible daughter? When I guilt her, I make sure she knows I'm sorry. I apologize by coming home safe, by holding her extra long when she hugs me, by sneaking into her bed and letting her pretend I'm still her little Clara, and she still has all the time in the world to raise me how he wanted.
"I don't let you have a boyfriend," she somewhat laughs through her pain. "Because I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."
My heart stops. My throat constricts and I can barely speak, causing my words to come out in a high pitched tone. "Mistakes?"
She realizes what she said, but it's too late.
"I'm so sorry that loving my dad was a mistake," I stand up and knock the stool down, already running up the stairs. "And I'm sorry I was ever born!"
to be continued...
TAYLOR SAYS——
Hi! Okay so this is an idea joanna and I formulated together but I reaaallly changed it to be honest. Also, I don't really write angsty stuff because I feel like it's one of my worst things so let me know if I should continue this! It was a lot of dialogue, but that's one of my problems with angst :/
ps: I know this was a teeny bit OOC for Farley, but let's just go with it.
