𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 ° 𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘜𝘚 𝘔𝘐𝘒𝘈𝘌𝘓𝘚𝘖𝘕

TWENTY | TWO NIGHTMARES AND A FUNERAL |

BEING LOCKED AWAY WAS ONE OF RORY'S WORST FEARS.

Being designated entirely helpless was unfathomable. But being all alone is what made it terrifying.

She's stuck in a tower, except there's no prince who'll rescue her. She can survive, but she wouldn't live. Cursed to be alone for all eternity. Happiness far from reach. She's had this dream before.

There's a large mirror twice the length and width of her body, propped where a window was meant to be.

She looks in and sees herself staring at her.

No.

This girl looks like her—dark wavy hair cut to her chin, full lips, and sharp cheekbones—a near-perfect clone, except for grey-blue eyes instead of hazel, like her father. She's smirking as if unsurprised to see her mother in the mirror. Distinguishable black charcoal smudges her fingers, just like Rory and Klaus.

Rory's staring at her daughter, sometime in the future, or what she'll look like then.

The dream doesn't seem so bad then. She feels happy to know what to expect; something she'll hold over Klaus whenever she awoke.

"Forget me?"

A statuesque blond boy is standing beside Rory, but not in the reflection.

This boy is exceptionally beautiful beyond compare but strikingly familiar. He has clever green eyes and a wry smile. He looks just like...Jasper, she realizes with alarming discomfort.

A name comes to her head—Phillip.

"Hi, mom."

She gasps as she takes in the child she might have had if things hadn't gone all south.

"You'll abandon her," Phillip observes the unnamed girl in the mirror, "just like you abandoned me."

"No. That's not true," Rory shakes her head, overwhelmed by sudden emotion. She didn't like to think about her unfortunate miscarriage, but she never forgot it. She reaches out toward the boy, her boy, from another life, wrapping her arms around him. He feels familiar. "I never abandoned you...I lost you. I'm so sorry. If I could have saved you..."

She feels some sort of closure when she hugs her son. Whether he's a figment of her imagination or an actual soul, she feels eons calmer now, as if she's finally able to forgive herself for what happened.

Phillip then snickers in her embrace, growing into a thunderous laugh. "How many chances do you think you'll get?"

"What?"

"There's only so many alternate universes, mother."

He presses his fingers to her temples and he shows her what she could've had; a kaleidoscope of worlds she might have known if she had chosen differently.

If she went to Florence, having gotten over Jasper, she'd have a successful career in the European art scene, having graduated from that fancy Italian university. She marries a lovely lawyer with long dark hair and a beautiful laugh. They share an apartment in Florence with their two cats.