Nelanna had reached her breaking point.

Her first miscarriage was devistating to them both, but Nelanna had taken it the hardest. She constantly felt like she had done something wrong, like their child’s death before birth was her fault. She mourned for a long time. Cecil was hurt, too, but he remained supportive, and would attempt to talk her into trying again for another child. They tried, time and time again. But each pregnancy ended with the same result, a blow so devastating that it became harder for Cecil to convince her to try again. He wanted a child as badly as she did. But now, as they buried their fifth unborn offspring, Nelanna was forced to face the horrible truth. She’d tried ignoring it for so long, tried staying positive. But she couldn’t deny it any longer. It was impossible for her to remain pregnant. She had no idea what she’d done wrong, but what was worse is if she’d done everything right. That meant it was her body that kept rejecting the baby. Something like that couldn’t be changed. She couldn’t give Cecil any offspring, she couldn’t give them a family.

No more.

Nelanna had cried until her eyes went dry. She was hollow inside, broken too many times to feel much of anything at all anymore. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t take being a failure to Cecil, unable to fulfill his dream. She couldn’t take building his hopes up with another pregnancy only for his heart to be smashed from a miscarriage. She just couldn’t take it.

No more!

She turned away from the newest grave in Cecil’s garden after having stood there for what felt like hours. The elf was cloaked in a simple black dress and corset, a color that never left her since their first lost child. It seemed permanent for her now. She silently walked into the house, not stopping until she was in their bedroom and curled on her side on the bed. Somehow, tears managed to return, streaming down her face in full force once again. Her hands clutched the fabric over her chest, gripping it tightly. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she have a single successful pregnancy? It seemed that the universe just refused to let her and Cecil keep whatever happiness they found. She was holding him back. If he remained with her, he would never have the children he so dearly wished for. She failed him. All she wanted was to make his dreams come true, and she failed him. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, shutting her eyes tightly as her nails dug into her skin, as if she were trying to rip her heart out if only to stop it from aching. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Nelanna was visiting the graves as was her routine. Often, he would find her in the garden, grieving in her customary black attire. He gave her the time she needed to mourn each would-be child, the dreams and wishes for them having burned in terrible pain. Neither of them knew why she could not see a pregnancy through, yet here they were, their fifth hopeful blessing long since put to rest before it could take a single breath. Cecil wanted to see her face as she listened to their hearts beat, their lungs fill. He wanted to see her lovingly encourage the child to take their first unassisted step, to see the joy the first time they said “mama”. But to see her broken…

It was taking everything he had to keep her together. Each death made it that much harder to bring her back to him. He gave her time, though, as he was finishing up another painting. The last stroke was just as difficult as the first, for what lay on the canvas before him was a happy child. She had curly pink hair, sea-blue eyes, and adorable freckles. It was never done where she could see, Nelanna still blissfully unaware of the special paintings he had done of their children. He could hear the door close as she entered their home, queueing the end of her grief and starting another bout of self-pity. Cecil had it down to a science by now.

Taking his time, Cecil cleaned his brushes and put his paints away. He took one last look at their lastest daughter before turning to leave. Light glinted off of something, drawing his attention to a small snowglobe that temporarily housed Oberon. If he didn’t know any better, Cecil would say that this was some cruel curse from his father. Shaking his head, he shut the door to the room and locked it, for he could not risk Nelanna seeing the children like this. It would break her into a million more pieces. Steeling himself, Cecil made his way to the bedroom where he found Nelanna curled up on their bed. He slowly crawled across the bed and settled himself behind her, wrapping his arms about her and pressing his lips into her hair behind her ear. This was the hardest part for him, seeing her beat herself up for something that was not her fault.

”You know…” Cecil whispered. ”We could always beseech the gods. Angela might help us.” She was the goddess of life and love. If she heard of their plight, surely the goddess would assist them carry a child full term. Why is it that every time they turned around, someone was throwing drama and curses their way? From silence to faked deaths, accidental amnesia to familial curses. He kissed her cheek before settling back down behind her. ”We will get through this Nelanna. I am here for you, always.” Curses, curses… Why was the word curse assaulting every waking thought now?

She wept in solitude for what felt like hours. Her heartbreak seemed to have the power to slow time, prolonging the pain and locking her in a little bubble that kept her from living her life in the outside world. It was like nothing existed any longer aside from her and her pain and thoughts. Whenever her dearly beloved managed to pull her back into reality she would feel herself being pulled back in that bubble. Each day was a struggle not to let herself drown in her sorrows, a struggle not to do something she really shouldn’t. Nelanna hated how pain distorts your thoughts and makes it easy to wish for things to end the misery, and forget what it would do to those who love you. It makes you think about yourself alone, and makes you selfish. She didn’t want that. She kept in mind what Cecil must be going though. He put on a good front, a face of hope and courage. But she knew he was only doing it for her, because he was just as broken on the inside.

Her head was pounding from crying so much, her throat nearly clogged by a lump. She hadn’t heard a thing until Cecil’s loving arms curled around her and he spoke in her ear. His body was pressed to hers, filling her form with warmth. In response to his suggestion, her eyes blinked open only for her vision to be blurred with tears. Nelanna forced her sobs to halt, the pain in her throat escalating from it and preventing her from being able to speak. A shaky breath was taken and released slowly, an attempt to calm herself. Although Cecil’s suggestion to request Angela’s aid, as she was the Goddess of Life itself, Nelanna couldn’t help feeling like it was cheating. Besides, what reason would a Goddess have for listening to them? Surely she was busy with her own worries. And Nelanna wasn’t raised to look up to deities. It was rooted into her to rely on her own strength rather than burden others. And if her strength wasn’t enough, then she must become stronger until it was enough.

As he moved behind her and spoke up once again, she managed to find her voice. “What am I doing wrong?” She whispered, her normally sweet voice hoarse from crying. Nelanna tried… she tried so hard not to let her mind wander again, and to keep her tears at bay. She shook her head slowly, tears threatening to return. “I’m so sorry, Cecil,” she whispered, voice barely audible from emotion. She couldn’t bring life to his dreams…the love of her life was being held back because of her. “I’m…” her voice faded as tears rolled down her flushed cheeks to soak her pillow. “I’m so sorry… I don’t know why I can’t… I failed you.” Her face was buried in her hands as she sobbed, all the while mentally battling herself. She’d already cried enough. Cecil was trying so hard to be strong for the both of them. She needed to gather herself so she wouldn’t burden him anymore. He deserved better…

He would wait a thousand lifetimes for her, patiently as she came to terms with the lives stolen from her grasp. "Ohh… Honey," he whispered as he gently gathered her hair and tucked it behind her shoulder. Cecil pulled her tighter against him as he pressed his cheek against her damp one. "You've done nothing wrong!" 'We are just doomed… Cursed to be so ill fated…' There was that word again, mocking him as if he should know something he didn't. It bugged the fae that his father could still consume much of Cecil's mind even when Nelanna was in such dire need of comfort. "What? No, Nelanna, you have nothing to apologize for."

To see her break down so completely before him was truly heartbreaking. He wanted to bundle her up in warmth and love, hide her away from the pain and cruelty of the world. There was no way to protect her from this, to save her from it was a very long battle. Yet, for her sake, he could not get discouraged. Cecil must find the strength to be her support even when he wanted to break down himself. "You haven't failed me, Cherie. We will get through this, I promise you." What else could he say? That she only failed him if she gives up? Cecil really did not wish to sound selfish, did not want her to feel that he was pushing her too quickly for another attempt. In the many times they've done this before, he already said everything multiple times. But he would continue repeating himself until she was back to her hopeful self. The grief will always be there, but at least she would be looking forward to something.

"We haven't failed each other, Nelanna. The world failed us when it cursed us this fate." Curses… Curses… The day Nelanna revealed that she was pregnant came back to him. Just as Cecil had to face his father, Nelanna also faced her mother. He remembered the woman's eyes go black, magic heavy words were spoken. Yet, nothing bound him as when Oberon cursed him. Cecil sat up suddenly, his thoughts running a hundred miles an hour. "'You will not find the happiness you seek with this man. You will soon realize your mistake.' That's what she said…" He turned and gripped Nelanna's shoulder, not quite excited, but gave her a light shake. "What if she cursed you? And now you can't bare children?" It was sickeningly perfect in explaining what was happening to them.

Cecil pressed further against her to offer her comfort. His warmth was inviting, and she welcomed it, for it was her only escape from the coldness her heartache brought her. He attempted to assure her that the deaths of their children were not her doing, nor put into motion because of her. And she wondered how he was able to hold onto her. Other husbands would shun their wives for this misfortune. Logically, the woman was always to blame, even if she had intended no harm. Some women just aren’t capable of having children. Yet, Cecil always tried his best to comfort her, to lift her spirits and encourage her to try again. He fought for her. Despite his own pain and confusion, he refused to believe that she was the cause. He believed in her, and refused to give up on her.

The thought returned her sound mind for a moment, and she managed a small, sad, yet loving smile. She hadn’t failed him, he said, and they would get through it together. She’d heard him tell her that countless times before, but the fact that he repeated them meant he truly believed it to be true, and he wouldn’t let her lose sight of that. As he continued to speak, she sniffled, and slowly moved her face out from hiding behind her hands. Her vision was still blurred, but her tears were finally slowing. Perhaps it was the world that failed them. It was a dark and cruel place, filled with hatred and evil. Greed, wrath, envy, and pride ruled above all, the kings of the seven deadly sins. It is because of this that she and Cecil suffered so. Those who enjoy the bad ways of the world take pleasure in making the innocent suffer. And the more they fight, the more the world tries to take them down. Perhaps this is why she and Cecil couldn’t get a break.

Abruptly, Cecil’s warmth was snatched from her as she shot up. He began to repeat the words that had haunted her dreams many nights after they were spoken. Words she regretfully, foolishly forgotten. Things seemed to have been going well, she became confident that there was no need to worry. All he needed to do was remind her of that day, and everything clicked in place. She froze, deathly so, with eyes staring wide ahead at nothing in particular. Her blood turned to ice. Even her heart felt like it stopped. Everything, everything halted. Her world had ended.

Iselora Lockheart, the feared mistress of her father’s prized estate and company. The woman who sneaks through shadows as if it’s her true home, going unnoticed while she uses her magic to turn people into her puppets. The hidden mastermind behind how the Lockheart family remained so successful. The silent partner, who appeared no more than a trophy wife when in public. It was her that hid everything that happened within the house, who kept secret what all her father had done to her and her sister. It was her who manipulates those she wants, and destroys those she despises. No one fared well when they stepped on her bad side. Which is exactly what Nelanna had done. Iselora was feared because of her curses that never seem to have a breaking point. No way out.

At first, Nelanna remained in deathly silence, consumed by horror. There was no response from her, even when she was lightly shaken. Her mother had cursed her. She was cursed—cursed to bear no children. It was her mother’s way of making Nelanna suffer, a fate worse than death to break her spirit, come running “home” just to end her misery. She and Cecil had done nothing to deserve this fate, this punishment. Repulsive.

Her horror quickly turned to heated rage. Her hand gripped the sheet viciously, eyes brimming with fury. “Why…” she muttered, and slowly sat up next to Cecil. Her head was kept low, eyes focused on her black skirt. “Why is that woman so fixated on punishing me? All I had ever done as a child was try to please her and father…and now I am punished for choosing my own path? For wanting the abuse to end?” How cruel would a person need to be to do this to her? And Cecil…he was more innocent than anyone else. All he did was heal her from the wounds her childhood had left her with. But…what was she to do? Even though they’d learned what happened, there was no way Nelanna knew of to break the curse. Iselora’s curses had never been broken before.

Her fury slowly died down, and she slouched, seemingly defeated. “She spoke in Ancient tongue. We don’t know what the curse is, nor how to escape it…” her sorrowful eyes rose to meet Cecil’s, pleading, despite believing there was no answer. “What can be done?” She asked, though it was meant to be rhetorical.

She sat up, so cold and distant while his own heart hammered in his chest. With the way his wife reacted, he knew he was right, she was cursed. He wanted to wait calmly for her to react, but his mind was screaming frustrations. Nelanna’s mother was an abhorrent creature to have done this to her own daughter. How can that woman do something like that so calmly, so easily without a second thought? Did she truly expect her daughter to come crawling back when things melted into foggy misery? Cecil would not allow Nelanna to stoop that low. No, he is her rock, her support during these times. He vowed to hold her, cherish her in sickness and in health, but there was more than that. The fae had made the silent promise that not even a curse or their parents would get in the way of their relationship.

No, they would not be manipulated like that. Finally, Nelanna began to talk, and Cecil wanted to make everything alright again, to make the woman disappear and never bother them in the future. Her eyes rose to meet his, begging for an answer. But he could see the doubt in them, doubt that there was not an answer, that they were indeed fated to being childless. Gingerly, Cecil’s hand rose to cup her cheek, a soft smile on his face. ”The first thing that can be done is not believing that there is nothing to reverse this.” He whispered before giving his wife a kiss on the forehead and pulled her into a hug. There was finally a logical explanation to their misery that rightfully puts blame where it belonged, an end to her wallowing in self-pity at the inability to bear him children. All he ever wanted was to see her dreams come true, and she wanted to be a mother. Naturally, this meant he wanted to be a father to their children.

”You know… I’m not just a princess of the fae, daughter of Oberon. I am my mother’s child…. And she fancied people. Her spells helped counter Oberon’s curses… Maybe I can…” His voice trailed off as he stared into the distance above Nelanna’s head. How had he forgotten about his mother’s desire to help as many victims as she could? Even though this was not of Oberon’s doing, Cecil believed his mother would have wanted to assist in making a difference in this curse. So perhaps there truly was something that he could do himself. ”Nelanna… What if I do it? Counter the curse? But…” He begged for time, tiime to come up with the correct terminology that would counter the curse and be beneficial. Cecil did not want to make things worse on his wife, and he was attempting to put a curse of sorts on her.

For two days he paced, scribbled something down and paced some more. More often than not, he would come back to the page and crumple it, throwing it in frustration. The house had become littered with the plethora of attempts of making the perfect counter. Cecil had stopped pacing to sit in a chair, the warm sun beaming down at him from a window. As he gazed out the window, he dozed off, having forgotten to sleep in his efforts. In a dream, his mother came to him, gave him advice, helped him come up with the curse. When he woke, he forgot the dream but jumped off the chair with excitement as he had figured out the counter curse. The fae ran to his wife, seriously sat down before her, his hands on her belly. He gave her a reassuring smile, trying to hide the doubt in himself for he still wasn’t sure if he could do this. And then he began. ”I curse your womb to the daily protect of any fetus within. It must see every child grow to full term and allow a successful birthing, subject to the natural laws of nature’s selection.”