A woman who wasn't meant to love anymore, less even so was she meant to be a mother. Falling pregnant with the child of the person she had lost simply to her feelings, yet it was the one thing that kept her grounded on most days, stopping her from falling into the neverending darkness of the abyss.

It had been eleven years of raising you almost on her own, with the help of some mere fatui servants to watch over you when she couldn't. A god's responsibilities didn't stop simply because a child was set into their world, a child a god shouldn't have had. But she never made you feel it, despite telling you as to why your father was gone. She was aware it wasn't your fault. It had been her own foolishness and rivalry with the celestia.

Running around fatui meetings while you could barely talk, being raised among knowing what position your mother was in. Not that you cared. You were a child that had no other reality than this one, the fatui and the harbingers were almost like family to you.

But at eleven you were too old to mindlessly run around the halls and talk in-between sentences, still important enough to sit at their tables and endure it for a few hours, just like she had to. Sitting in front of the vanity she had in her room, you preferred it, as she carefully did your hair. She insisted on doing it herself. A gentle gesture that was only done at home, she was another person in front of other people. A god before a mother.

"All the harbingers will be there today. So it'll surely take a little longer than usual."