The girl who is spinning the thread of fate - Mensverse Rachel, pre-death
Rachel knows she's running out of time long before Sophie's knife finds itself buried in her body.
There's only so long one can narrowly avoid assassination, only so long that Cadogan's words can pacify his best friend's mind long enough for her to live another day. Säde and Avery can only manage for so long against the constant barrage their King puts against them, and she knows without them she will be lost. So she counts the days, writes letters of goodbye when Cadogan isn't looking.
And then after a couple morning's bouts of vomiting lead her to the doctor to check for poison, she finds out instead that this dying woman's body is holding a new life, and she know that she has a little longer. Adrien wouldn't risk losing a potential new male, especially not one that's her son.
So she keeps mum about the whole thing, doesn't let anybody know who the father is or how the baby fares or even-- especially-- the gender of the child. It's the only thing keeping her alive, now, she knows. She can tell by the way Adrien looks at her whenever she catches a glimpse of him in the hallway.
When she delivers, she cries almost as much as her newborn daughter does, chalks it up to the pain and joy when Cadogan or Avery or Säde ask.
Because she knows-- knows-- that the brief respite in her wait for the end is over, and her time is even shorter now.
One day, a knife will find its way into her skin, and in doing so it will cut the thread of her life.
She only hopes that Adair's thread is longer for it.
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Rachel knows she's running out of time long before Sophie's knife finds itself buried in her body.
There's only so long one can narrowly avoid assassination, only so long that Cadogan's words can pacify his best friend's mind long enough for her to live another day. Säde and Avery can only manage for so long against the constant barrage their King puts against them, and she knows without them she will be lost. So she counts the days, writes letters of goodbye when Cadogan isn't looking.
And then after a couple morning's bouts of vomiting lead her to the doctor to check for poison, she finds out instead that this dying woman's body is holding a new life, and she know that she has a little longer. Adrien wouldn't risk losing a potential new male, especially not one that's her son.
So she keeps mum about the whole thing, doesn't let anybody know who the father is or how the baby fares or even-- especially-- the gender of the child. It's the only thing keeping her alive, now, she knows. She can tell by the way Adrien looks at her whenever she catches a glimpse of him in the hallway.
When she delivers, she cries almost as much as her newborn daughter does, chalks it up to the pain and joy when Cadogan or Avery or Säde ask.
Because she knows-- knows-- that the brief respite in her wait for the end is over, and her time is even shorter now.
One day, a knife will find its way into her skin, and in doing so it will cut the thread of her life.
She only hopes that Adair's thread is longer for it.