The next day she pulled out the chest of letters, she was lounging on the couch at home, long locks of black hair twisted up and away in a towel that rested on her head, while another towel was wrapped around her. She was stealing away precious moments of time where she should be getting ready to go out with Gothrak, to read the next letter her mother had left for her. The chest was opened, and the top letter pulled free. The letter within, was peeled away from the other three hand written pages, and set aside.

Then without further hesitation, she began reading.

To the child I'll never have;

I was thirteen when my mentor informed me that I'd never have children. I remember honestly not caring, as I had been a child at the time, a warlock no less, learning, and blossoming into her powers. It's not because there's anything wrong with my baby making parts, no. Just that because part of me isn't exactly human, it makes me infertile. But in exchange, I can live for god knows how long, and have powers beyond what most mundanes can imagine.

Most see it as a win-win. As who wants to be weighed down and have the responsibility of children? But as I grew older, things changed.

Who would have thought that the first person I loved would have been human? They're so fragile, easy to break. It was in the early 1800s, in France, that I met him. His name was Jean Paul, with the warmest eyes of honey, and an easy smile. By day, he worked down at the docks, but he spent his nights in the taverns, singing and playing for fun. The coin, drinks and women that followed had been a bonus.
We ran into each other. Literally. As I had been chasing after someone who had taken off with my coin purse, and he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I apologized, and he asked me to walk with him for a while. Everything after that? It was a blur, I fell fast and hard, and out of everyone I've loved? Loved him the most.

He wanted everything for us. Marriage, children, a long happy where we grew old and happy together. And, after some time, I realized that I wanted all of it as well. But there were two problems. Where he would age and grow old, I would not. And I could not have children. That's when the reality of my mentor's words actually sank in. I was crushed, and the day I sat him down and explained what I was, and how that tied in to my lack of ability to bear children, he held me as I cried. Kissed away my tears, and promised that it didn't matter. That we'd enjoy our time together, and have that.

Two years later he was found floating face down in the dock waters, head bashed in, money and instrument gone. For a long period of time after that I withdrew into myself. I held everyone at arms length, and never let anyone else close.

It was nearly a century before I let anyone else in close. It was Jacob, first. In england. He was a vampire, who didn't mind no strings attached casual things. But then I started caring. There was something about him that broke down my barriers.

We were close for quite a few years, before we merely drifted apart, him, tugged by some silent call to Spain, and me, to the States. It was easier after Jacob, to open up. Love others.

After him, there was Mical, Finnick, and Irail. With them, children were not an issue. They didn't honestly care... And then I met Joseph. Oh. Joseph, the irrational, thick skulled Nephilim that didn't research his targets fully. I hated him at first. Womanizing, young, arrogant, self assuming, mullet wearing Nephilim, that seemed intent on the fact that I was the warlock making children disappear, by feeding them to a demon.

It took two weeks for him to realize that it wasn't me. After that, we came to an uneasy truce. And then he asked me for my help. Hounded me until I gave in, just to make him stop showing up at random hours to bother me. In the next week of our manhunt for the rogue warlock, we became a uneasy team, apprehended the warlock.

I thought after that, he'd leave me alone, go on and do his shadow hunter thing by his self. I couldn't have been more wrong. He pulled me in, case after case, preferring my company over the nephilim of New York City. It was in that time, that we became a team. A well oiled machine that caught rogue down worlder and demons, one right after the other. We became close. Friends. For the longest time. It wasn't until the first time that he kissed me, that I realized that I loved him. Probably more than I should, given what he was.

It was with Joe, that my yearning for children returned. Perhaps it was just the way he made me feel. Wanted, Loved, safe. It is him, that I could imagine being your daddy. I could see you having my eyes, and his sandy colored hair. His fierce determination, and my stubbornness. I could see it. Round face, and chubby little arms and legs. It is something I wish for still after nearly ten years of being with him.

I would have loved you dearly.

I'm not quite sure why I wrote this, perhaps it was just my way of finally accepting the fact that I'll never have a child. I'll never know the joys of hearing a baby giggle, or the grief of a toddler that's fallen and scraped a knee. The awkwardness of puberty, and the trials of being a teenager.

I'll never have that. And while I'm not happy about that, I've accepted it.

Imogen.

She had read straight through the letter, absorbed by the words that her mother had poured onto the pages. It wasn't until she finished, that she pulled back, and drew in a deep breath. Then remembered that she had a date to be getting ready for. It was the perfect distraction, from how closely her mother's yearning echoed hers sometimes. The letters were stuffed back into the chest, which was then tucked away.


She was dressed, and ready within fifteen minutes, minus the minor details.