Chapter 37: A Cry For HelpNotes:
I noted it on chapter 36 yesterday, but Allegrata's age has been adjusted to match my notes. She's 870, not 670. When I referenced the chapter for details, I didn't realize I'd mixed that up. Oops.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Allegrata's got a headache. Always.
CW: Blood & gore mention, Trauma, Disregard of Life, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attack, Self-Hate
~~~~~ Allegrata Lombardi ~~~~~
A Cry For Help
~~~~~ Allegrata Lombardi ~~~~~
August 23rd, 1995
Allegrata's arrival at Hogwarts would normally be the type of thing one considered a declaration of war. If they were a member of the general public, anyway. Or Albus Dumbledore.
Good thing for him that he had no clue she was there, then. If he had made the mistake of appearing before her eyes, she'd not have bothered with restraint and would be offering a blithe apology to Minerva about new scorch marks on the floor and a peculiar pile of ashes.
The castle rankled at her appearance just as it had when she'd first entered. The auld magics within did not like Allegrata. Not because of her Darkness - that was hardly an issue, for if it had been then Minerva would experience a similar reception. No, it didn't like the blood that stained her hands. Figuratively, not literally; no matter what her fevered mind occasionally thought while furiously trying to wash them clean in a washbasin until there was actual blood on them - her own.
Much as she had always felt justified in her killings, it did nothing to stop the shaking tremors in the quiet hours of dawn as she woke screaming from nightmares.
…She should contact her therapist again.
She shook herself out of her thoughts and pushed the doors to Minerva's office open, dispelling her illusion charm as she entered.
"Allegrata," Minerva greeted her as she stood. She was wearing her human disguise, looking older by a few physical decades and having her beauty marred by wrinkles and blemishes that simply could not exist on the skin of a Baobhan Sith.
"Minerva," Allegrata replied cordially enough, sitting in one of the visitor's chairs and sighing. "You're playing a dangerous game, bringing Tlāloc here. I'm aware he is in service to Mahalu, despite his own status as Dark Lord. That's odd enough, but I don't doubt his loyalties nor his mindset. But if Dumbledore finds out…" She trailed off, raising a thin eyebrow. She'd said Dumbledore with as much loathing as could be mustered, as she had ever since the scum had worked with Grindelwald to steal from one of her treasuries a century ago.
All that had gone missing was one of those paltry Hallows, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered.
"He won't," Minerva replied tiredly, sounding as old as she looked as she tapped her wand to some papers and they assembled themselves neatly into a stack. "Albus…" She shook her head, "I've known since I was a girl that he wasn't to be trusted. My magic has never felt comfortable around him. He treated my presence in Hogwarts not as a given, but as a privilege. As though being non-human meant learning magic should be forbidden to me."
Allegrata sighed, rubbing underneath her eyes as her own tiredness settled in. "He isn't the only one to think like that," she muttered. "There have been… thousands like him over the years. Before Grindelwald, Britannia was under the reign of a Light Lord. That's why the Blood Purist, Human-Supremacist views are so prevalent. That Lord took the concept of 'purity' to an extreme, which is why Reysino assassinated him."
Minerva looked a bit surprised before sighing. "I suppose it makes sense you're so cautious about who takes over Britannia, then - can't afford for it to be ruled by someone who would try to hurt all of you," she muttered, giving a sad smile. "You're protecting your family."
Allegrata knew better than to be surprised by Minerva's discerning eye. "How long have you known?" She croaked, her voice shaky as she felt defensive.
"Years, Allegrata," Minerva replied gently. "Hildegarde treats you four very kindly and with more respect than I've ever seen her show Knochenbrecher or Brynhildr." She sighed and rubbed her temple, looking tired once again. "And now it would seem Ophelia is being adopted into that family…"
Allegrata would have to have been blind and deaf to not see how Minerva cared for the girl. Mahalu as well. They wanted her to prosper, but they considered her family as well. From what Allegrata had seen in Ophelia's memories, the feeling was mutual - and she had friends made family aplenty besides.
"She's going to become immortal, Minerva," Allegrata told her softly. The woman didn't seem shocked, merely sagging a bit in her seat and nodding sadly. "She loves her friends and family, of that I have no question… but she's like Mykola. Incredibly like Mykola. Her reservations will lose out to her desire to ensure there aren't more children like her. Maybe that will include Liegeship of Britannia, maybe it won't. Either way… she doesn't know it yet, but she wants to help. She wants to protect others."
Minerva sighed, a pained look on her face. "She always has," the woman muttered softly. "Ever since I first saw the girl on the steps, waiting to be Sorted… She looked so small and was shaking like a leaf. I suppose her Magic Sense couldn't handle the sensory input. It took time, but she became a Gryffindor… I was proud. I've always been proud of Ophelia. When she sought my help for the Chamber of Secrets I was honoured. I was impressed to find how dedicated she was to hiding her transition. Her education became more important to her after that. She even used a Time Turner in her third year, all to get stronger, even if it wasn't by conscious choice."
Allegrata studied Minerva for a long moment. "How do you do it?"
"Pardon?" Minerva asked, bemused.
"This," Allegrata said, spreading her arms wide, "Play being human. Raise children who leave after a mere seven years. Teach. Educate. Just… you put in all this effort, Minerva, and how many of them so much as send you a letter?"
Minerva gave a wry smile. "More than you might think, Allegrata," she replied, steadily rising and walking over to a cabinet. When she opened it, the cabinet was revealed to be not only bigger on the inside, but visibly filled with postcards, letters, and knickknacks. "But this isn't why I do it. Of course, it makes me smile with memories of each student… but I teach because I want to educate. Because I want these students to know how to turn stone to steel and steel to cotton. How to mold stone as if it were wet clay with a wave of their wand… because I love the looks of wonder on children's faces every time they accomplish a new spell."
Allegrata wasn't sure how to reply to that. She sat quietly at first, staring somewhat transfixed at the cabinet.
"...Do you think this was how Mykola felt? When he taught me, Reysino, and now Vasilka?" She asked softly.
"I think he felt all this and more," Minerva murmured, slowly closing the cabinet. "Because to him, you aren't just students. You're family."
"I suppose we are, aren't we?" Allegrata whispered. She tapped a finger against the desk, wanting to sort her thoughts back out. "Tlāloc is teaching your Defence against the Dark Arts, but who is teaching Potions?"
Minerva winced. "...Dolores Umbridge," she replied. "A witch in complete service to the Minister. It wouldn't be so much of a concern if she wasn't a blood purist, human supremacist, and both homophobic and transphobic. I guarantee you it will only be Ophelia's legal documents that make that woman respect her identity."
"Would you like me to…?" Allegrata let the offer hang unspoken, as discussing murder too openly was far from wise in Hogwarts.
"No," McGonagall replied, a bit too hastily to be genuine. "I want her as far from the children as possible, don't misunderstand, but we're in a precarious situation right now. Besides, if Cornelius somehow found a connection, or worse, Albus? I would be fired in an instant, and these children would be helpless."
"What, don't you have tenure?" Allegrata asked rhetorically.
"That doesn't protect against criminal charges," Minerva replied drily. She sighed and rubbed the side of her nose, seeming tired. "Regardless, there's been another issue occupying my mind. Getting justice for Ophelia's mothers."
"Ah… the 'Imperial Three', was it?"
"So they're called," Minerva agreed irritably. "By the time I realized they were in Azkaban, I didn't have the influence to safely spring them. It's taken all the power and influence I have to keep them protected, in the same cell, watered, fed, and clothed. But not free. I'm not strong enough for that."
"I could help," Allegrata offered.
Minerva paused and studied Allegrata closely. "Why?" She asked, her tone reasonably wary.
Allegrata studied her arms, thoughtful. They were clean. Scarred, yes, but clean. A blink of the eye and they looked stained with blood and viscera. Another blink and they were clean once more. "...Do you know how many lives I've protected and saved?" She whispered.
"Likely more than I could count," Minerva replied.
"Directly, Minerva."
"...None," the fey woman admitted. "All lives you've saved have been a result of…"
"Murder, Minerva. You can say it," Allegrata remarked.
"Eliminating threats," Minerva decided. "Francesco, for example."
"And two thirds of his inner circle, his bride, all their adult children, and no less than thirty Italian Aurors. And that's just my debut on the 'Dark' scene," Allegrata said sharply. "Eighty-seven lives, snuffed out by me directly. By hand or by wand. I am a murderer, Minerva - no question."
"And in ending eighty-seven lives, you avenged thousands more and safeguarded millions, magical and mundane," Minerva pointed out. Her brow furrowed deeper. "Allegrata… are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Allegrata snapped. She huffed and ran a hand atop her head, smoothing some stray hairs. "I've never once taken actions that directly saved a life, alright? Fuck, even as a kid, I was a killer. A monster. Being a peasant girl born in 12th century Italy means you have to do some deplorable fucking shit to stay alive - or at least a fucking virgin."
"...I'm sorry, I didn't—"
Allegrata quieted her with a held up hand. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "It's fine, Minerva. You couldn't have known," she replied blithely. "You're what, a tenth my age? Less? That's good. We don't need more people so old they can remember when Leonardo da Vinci was born."
"...Do you… see anyone?" Minerva asked.
"A therapist, you mean?" Allegrata asked sarcastically. Minerva pressed her lips thin and the Italian witch rolled her eyes. "I do, yes. But a mortal therapist is a bit limited when it comes to helping the psyche of an eight-hundred year old murderous psychopath."
"'Psychopath' is a bit much, Allegrata," Minerva chastised, her tone somewhat sharp. "No psychopath would want to do better."
"And how do you know I want to do better?"
"You're helping Ophelia, aren't you? Considering rescuing her mothers?" Minerva pointed out. "I doubt you'd want to do that if you didn't want to do better, or find some way to balance your ledger."
Allegrata clicked her tongue and stood.
"This was a mistake. I should have known you were too nosy for my liking," Allegrata hissed before she turned on a heel and Disapparated.
She reappeared in Azkaban.
Allegrata snapped her fingers and a silvery panther wreathed itself around her legs, warding off the Dementors. Wretched things - and damn the English for thinking they could be controlled. Fools.
She shed her cloak, coat, and blouse, now clad in just a tank top and jeans. She had to admit, modern fashion wasn't half bad.
Two Aurors barely managed to draw their wands when they collapsed under the weight of Allegrata's aura. She didn't even need much - the 'disorientation' was enough to have them on the floor, unable to do more than fumble and groan as their visions blurred and their minds shook.
She snapped her fingers and they were out like lights, sleeping peacefully. She didn't need to kill any Aurors, not right now.
Maybe she was being impetuous. She didn't care. She cast a magical radar pulse and located the stairs. It was easy to make her way over.
An ascent would be necessary. All high-security prisoners were kept near the peak, where the Dementors gathered in the highest numbers.
She did notice a handful of interesting faces, such as Gilderoy Lockhart, but they all cringed back into their cells.
Small wonder. Even the English knew of the dangerous threat that was Allegrata Lombardi.
How ironic that name was. 'Cheer', her name was to mean. Her fool parents wanted her to have a cheerful and pleasant life. Well perhaps they would be looking on from the Heavens - or perhaps Hell - with appropriate horror and fear. Good.
They deserved to know the monster they had created with that night of 'passion'. Damnable fools. Hopefully at least Ophelia's mothers were better people, and considering Dumbledore disliked and actively hurt them, that was a huge point in their favor.
"Lombardi," a gruff yet familiar voice greeted her.
"Hey, Alastor," she replied candidly, smirking at the tense Auror. Well, former Auror. Having your body turned into swiss cheese and being hit with enough curses to make you that paranoid made you more of a hindrance than a worthwhile weapon. "Long time no see."
"You seem well," Alastor agreed, his blue eye whizzing around, obviously checking for her subordinates.
"Bianca and Silvia aren't here, Alastor," she told him. She'd never once lied to the man - he had earned that much after the scar he left on her right leg. Nearly took it from her, even. He impressed her. "This is… a whim, I guess."
"Aye. Generally is with you," Alastor agreed, carefully circling her. He slammed his staff down once in order to Silence some of the screeching prisoners. Including a familiar face - Bellatrix. "Here for anyone in particular?"
"There's some ladies who really shouldn't be here," Allegrata replied, also circling. They walked in parallel, both looking for the slightest opening. Allegrata saw none because of his impeccable guard - Alastor saw none because of her dominating power. "I'd like to free them."
"I see. Mind tellin' me why?" Alastor asked, his normal eye narrowed.
"Oh, there's a young girl I'm… impressed by," Allegrata replied. She knew Alastor would understand her meaning.
He stilled, so she stopped as well. "...And you're not going to kill them?" He asked skeptically.
"I'm not," Allegrata confirmed. "I just…" Her mouth twisted as she suppressed a grimace. "Want to balance my ledger a bit."
Alastor eyed her carefully. "...I see," he muttered. "And you're not going to harm any of the Aurors?"
"So long as they leave me and those women be? I won't," she agreed.
"Allegrata…"
"This isn't a barter, Alastor," she reminded him. "And I demand respect, even here. I didn't get where I am by suffering fools."
"No, you didn't," he agreed.
"She deserves to have her mothers, Alastor."
"And since when have you cared about that? About someone having their parents?" Alastor asked, though there was no fight in his voice. He didn't fancy his odds, she could tell.
"Usually I'm not fussed… but she drew my interest," Allegrata admitted. "She's… strong. Fierce. I can tell that she's slowly getting control of her magic. Her fury. There will be a new Dark Lady in Britannia, like it or not."
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Bellatrix screeched, her voice returned. Damn her strong magic. "There is only one Dark Lord!"
"Shut up, you stupid cunt," Allegrata told her sharply, glaring at the demented witch. "Nobody asked for the opinion of some worthless lieutenant. Honestly, just goes to show how weak Tom is. If Bianca or Silvia were ever captured, it certainly wouldn't be by some pathetic Ministry."
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Bellatrix screeched.
"Uh-huh. Get in line," Allegrata replied, bored as she strode past the cell.
"No trouble, Allegrata," Alastor urged her once more.
"I'm not exactly seeking it," she answered, waving a hand and resuming her walk through the prison.
Her patronus continued to keep the Dementors at bay, snarling when the hellish creatures attempted to get closer. Allegrata augmented her patronus' effects with a pulse of magic, causing the Dementoes to hiss loudly with pain as they retreated from the light.
'Feed on happy memories', what a foolish notion. The monsters fed on despair. They used their aura to bring about despair, and fed on it to sustain themselves. If they fed on happiness, why would a patronus be used to protect against them? That would be like making a shield out of steak and trying to use it to protect yourself from a tiger or a bear.
Foolishness. This was why she loathed what wixen taught one another these days. She would need to hammer any such misconceptions out of Ophelia if the girl was to truly be effective as a Dark Lady. Information was a weapon, and just as with a dull sword or a mispronounced spell, inaccurate information could be fatal at a crucial moment. In fact, it generally proved to be.
She couldn't help her disgust at how she had to ascend another set of steps. Pathetic as she was, Bellatrix was supposed to be one of the greatest threats to Britannia after Tom. Yet as Allegrata heard it, Ophelia's mothers and Sirius Black had been kept at the top level.
She felt a sickened twist as she wondered whether the Ministry knew of those four's innocence, and had put them so high in an attempt to silence and weaken them? Talk about disgusting and unsettling. Sometimes she couldn't help wishing they hadn't managed to get such an unearned good reputation.
Oh well. Those in power often glossed over their atrocities. The Ministries did, and they remained in favor - the Dark Lieges opted for honesty, and they remained hated and feared. Such was life.
She could feel their power right off the bat, and immediately understood why Ophelia was so strong. Nervous as the girl had been during their meeting, she possessed a clear willpower that evidently had been inherited.
"Allegrata Lombardi, I take it?" Dorcas Meadowes greeted her. A lazy smile was on her face despite her imprisonment, and even though there was a plethora of Dementors on the floor, a silvery cat draped around the woman's shoulders were keeping the dark creatures away. Minerva's patronus. "I have to say, I expected a visit from our son one day, if anyone."
"Try daughter," Allegrata corrected her. It didn't surprise her the three women were given no news whatsoever. Beyond meals, they were likely kept completely in the dark. No doubt it had been a complete fluke that let Sirius Black learn of Pettigrew's survival. "Her name is Ophelia."
"Ophelia," Marlene McKinnon murmured, glasses in one hand as she gently pet the silvery cat in her own lap. Much like Dorcas, she wore the prisoner's uniform. "I see. I suppose Albus wasn't so successful in making her hate us after all."
"Of course he wasn't. She's our kid," Mary MacDonald replied from a corner, a silvery cat nestled between their legs. "What about the Dursleys? Albus said she'd be living with them."
"Dead," Allegrata confirmed. "The mother and father, anyway. Mahalu killed them personally. Sorry to burst your bubble, but your daughter's got the interest of us European Dark Lieges - and more. She's probably going to rule Britannia in time."
"And?" Mary replied, nonplussed. "So what?"
"So long as she's healthy, that's what matters," Dorcas agreed. "Is she? Healthy? The Dursleys… I don't doubt they treated her awfully, but…"
Allegrata sighed. "Depends on your definition of 'healthy'," she admitted. "Two legs, two arms, one head. A bit short, but stunted height isn't unexpected considering they starved her. She's built her weight up since then, but she has… scars. Scars like these." She turned so they could see her upper back. The burns of a hot poker, the lash lines of a switch, and so on. Similar to Ophelia's, adjusted for eight centuries of technological differences. "She's strong, though. Her will's unbroken."
"...It's too bad Mahalu killed them," Marlene mused, the cell shaking visibly under the weight of the three's combined fury. Even magic suppressors couldn't do everything, it seemed. "I'd have appreciated the chance to flay them inch by inch."
"...There's more," Mary muttered, eyes piercing Allegrata in a way that most wixen their age wouldn't be able to manage. "What else?"
"She can't walk unassisted, not without pain," Allegrata told them, dusting herself off. "She uses a wheelchair. She seems hale enough otherwise, but that is very much Albus' fault. He orchestrated events that led to her helping Minerva rescue some students from a Basilisk. She got bit - arm and leg. Saved, but with permanent damage."
The cell walls cracked.
"I see," Dorcas said simply, her eyes flickering the slightest shade of red. If she hadn't known better, Allegrata would almost say these three were responsible for the crimes they were imprisoned for. At the least they were obviously capable.
"...Are you here to free us?" Marlene asked, a dangerous edge to her voice.
Was she? That was the million euro question.
She could. In fact, she wanted to. It would be an act of good. Something she could do that might prove she's more than a murderer. More than a monster.
Thump.
Her fingers twitched.
She could do it. It would be effortlessly easy. All she'd have to do is blow the cell door open, or even the entire wall of bars itself. Then a couple spells to break the suppressors, and they could escape. Fuck, she could even just take their hands and Disapparate. Quick and easy.
Thump.
So why was she hesitating? Why couldn't she answer? Her mouth opened, but not even the slightest sound came. Was it the dementors? No, her patronus hadn't faded. So what was it?
Thump-thump.
She was breathing heavily. Something was wrong. It didn't make sense. She was being ridiculous. Why was she so scared? It wasn't like there was a threat in the area. This wasn't her sixth sense telling her that her life was at risk, nor was it some kind of aura inducing fear. Neither Mykola nor Hildegarde were in the area, and if they were it wasn't like they'd disapprove. Fuck, they'd cheer her on!
Thump-thump.
What was going on? Why was she so scared?
"Allegrata?" Dorcas called out, but her voice sounded… warped. Distorted and faded. The expression on her face was hard to read, as everything seemed blurry. Why was that? Maybe Dorcas looked worried - she didn't look upset, at least. That was good. Someone being upset usually meant she got hit.
…What? She hadn't been hit by an upset adult in centuries. Ever since she was a little kid and ran from home after her first accidental magic, when she was called 'puttana demoniaca'. Why would she think that? Why would she be having that memory?
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
She tried to breathe. It kept coming shorter and more rapid. She clutched at her chest, trying to breathe, but it was still hard. Tears slid down her face. Why? Allegrata Lombardi didn't cry. Why was she crying? Why was she scared?
She just had to do this. She needed to get it done. It was a good thing. She could do this. It would be fine. Then she could handle her body afterwards. She wasn't the important one right now.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Her vision remained blurry. Her hands shook violently. She fell to her knees. A pained sob wretched itself out of her throat. What was wrong?
She thought someone might be calling her name. She felt cold. Her patronus was gone.
Shit.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
She Disapparated.
Allegrata let out another agonized cry as she curled into a ball on the floor of her bedroom. A sob broke through as she pulled her legs close and fought like hell for each and every breath.
A panic attack. She was having a fucking panic attack. Pathetic.
She hiccoughed and coughed, sobbing again as hair fell in front of her face. She felt it rather than saw it, as her eyes were screwed shut to try and limit the amount of tears sliding out. A futile effort - her face was soaked within moments.
Her heart continued to hammer in her chest and deafen her as it rumbled in her ears. It had reached its crescendo, and the descent had yet to begin.
She was pathetic. She'd been trying to do something good and she couldn't. She should have known all she was good for was being a murderer. A killer. A monster and a psychopath. She could kill without a second thought now, but freeing some innocent women? That was too much for her. Sure. Of course.
Fucking idiot.
She saw it. Blood. On her hands, her arms, her legs and feet, staining her walls, clothes, wand, everything. Her entire life was just blood and death and killing. Why did she do this? Why was she such a horrible person? She never wanted this! She never wanted any of this!
She wanted to be happy! Safe! Loved! But her awful fucking family had shown her how worthless she was, and as much as Mykola had tried, he'd been unable to convince her otherwise. Because it was the truth.
With each subsequent murder, she had proven herself right, time and again. She was a killer. A monster. A demonic bitch that ruined hundreds of thousands of lives.
Saving people by killing those who were worse? Yeah, right. She was just making excuses to feel better about herself. The proof was in the pudding - directly rescuing people was too much for her. It had to be the result of a kill.
Which of course made the truth plenty obvious. She liked killing. She had to. It was what she wanted, right? So when she couldn't kill, she couldn't help people. That had to be it. That had to explain it.
She jolted when she felt someone place her head in their lap. Mykola.
"It's been a long time since you've had one of these," he murmured, gently pushing wet hair out of her face. He summoned one of her blankets and draped it over her body as though she were a child.
She didn't object or pull away.
"Why are you here?" She asked, her voice rasping. She'd been sobbing, then. Her throat always felt raw after sobbing. Stupid, whiny bitch she was being.
"You needed me," Mykola replied simply, untying her hair and using her brush to smooth it out. "So I'm here."
"You're always here," she muttered darkly. "Even when I don't want you here, you're here."
"I am," he agreed. "I'd be a bad father if I wasn't here when my daughter needed me."
"I'm being pathetic. You should leave me," she protested.
"You're having a panic attack. Hardly pathetic. I have them, too. So does Močiutė, so does Vasilka, so does Reysino," he replied, rubbing her back. "It helps to talk about it, I think."
"That sounds like therapist talk."
"I happen to have one of those, now that you mention it," he mused.
"...I do, too," Allegrata whispered.
"You should schedule an appointment," Mykola told her.
"...Okay," she agreed, unable to deny she probably should. Being logical, she knew she was spiraling. And he was right. She was having a panic attack. And that… wasn't good.
"And you're not being pathetic. You're not a monster, or a demon, or a bitch," he added, knowing the exact words she always defaulted to when berating herself.
She kept silent, squirming in a bit of discomfort. She knew better than to object. Whenever she tried, he used logic and debate to prove why she was wrong, needed to accept his comforts, and then he would give her praise. She didn't want praise right now. She didn't deserve it.
"Why can't I do anything good?" She asked instead. "I… I wanted to save them. Ophelia's mothers. It would've been easy. Something good. I could… I could do it. I'm not incapable."
Mykola squeezed her shoulder gently. "You do a lot of good things," he murmured. "You saved Bianca and Silvia. You care. You feel concern for others. That's a lot of good."
"It's not enough," she whispered hoarsely. "It'll never be enough."
"I think it is. Because you're trying. You're doing the best you can," Mykola replied.
"Then why couldn't I save them?" She asked.
"Because you don't believe you can," Mykola said, "Not really. Logically you know it's possible for you, but emotionally you don't think you can do good things. You never have. And… that's my fault, really."
"No, it's not," Allegrata objected.
"It is. I'm your father, even if not by blood. I raised and taught you… but I neglected your mental health. I didn't know how to teach you to do good, because I didn't know how to do good. I do know, but… I still neglected you," Mykola told her. "And I'm not going to stop trying to make up for that. Not ever."
"Stop. Stop saying that like… like you…"
"Abused you?" Mykola whispered softly. She knew he was crying as well. She knew that was the last thing he'd ever want to do to anyone.
"You didn't," she affirmed. "You… you loved me. You protected, taught, and… you… you did so much for me, I—"
"And I still neglected to teach you so much. So many basic things. Neglect is a form of abuse, too. My therapist told me that," he told her, gently pulling her hair into a bun and tying it off. He helped her sit up and pulled her close, an arm wrapped around her shoulders.
Allegrata let her head rest on his shoulder. "I don't blame you," she whispered fiercely through wet tears. "I couldn't. Never. I…"
"I know," Mykola murmured. "You don't want to blame me, because you feel indebted to me. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to your therapist about it. It can help you to discuss something even if you aren't sure about it. To try and put the picture together… and one day, heal."
Allegrata closed her eyes again. Her face screwed up with hurt as she tried not to sob. She knew he was right. The agonizing tightness in her chest was proof of that. But he'd saved her. He'd protected her. He'd done… he'd done an immense amount to support and help her. He'd always been there.
"Why?" She asked softly, her voice breaking. "Why do you do so much for me? I… I never do as much for you. I try. But I just—"
"You're my daughter," he told her hoarsely, his interruption gentle. "I do so much for you because it's my job as your father to support you, always… nes aš tave myliu, mažė."
She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat.
"Ti amo anch'io, Papà."
Notes:
Sorry for the long wait. I've been having a huge mental block lately due to some burnout. Both for writing and just an autistic burnout in general.
I'm doing better? Slowly working up the energy to write a bit more regularly. Though I'm primarily focusing on my manuscript. I be writing a book! Hope ya look forward to it.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed~
Discord: https://discord.gg/w5k4TfFRGG
Next: Year 5 Begins
Chapter 38: The Beginning... Again!Chapter Text
A reboot/rewrite of When Girls Cry is in progress! Please check it out using the link below!
Notes:
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When Girls Cry!
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