Ariel looked with love and tenderness at her peacefully sleeping little angel, who had stuck his finger in his mouth instead of the fallen pacifier. For some reason, her son didn't like them and almost immediately spat them out, and in general showed himself to be a calm and smart child: didn't cry over trifles, didn't demand attention, crying only when diapers needed changing, feeding, or burping up curdled milk.
The girl couldn't stop marveling at how lovely the child turned out, and if you looked at his light, almost white hair and big bright blue eyes, you might think he was a pureblooded veela. Of course, this was impossible, but couldn't one believe in the best?
There was a knock at the door, and the girl, kissing her boy on the forehead, went to open the door.
"Ariel, girlfriend," Jacqueline began to speak loudly, but seeing her shushing her, continued in a whisper: "Well, how did everything go, were there any problems?"
"Don't stand on the threshold, come in," Ariel invited the girl who had become a friend to her. Unlike her, Jacqueline was a true veela: active, pushy, and cheerful. "Just quieter, Arthur just fell asleep."
"You named your son after him?" she asked, walking toward the small couch.
"Yes, after him!" Ariel knew her friend wouldn't approve, but she didn't care.
"First you took his last name—what was it? Marlowe? Now you name your son after him too."
…
Despite her strong desire to name the child Victor, Ariel had to follow the instructions of the man who had saved her. Victor had made the decision in advance to erase all traces of his name for the sake of safety. That was why he chose to change it in his new life.
Now, he would be Arthur Marlowe, taking the surname of his late mother—someone the authorities knew nothing about. After all, no one who had known his mother was still alive.
…
"I understand he meant a lot to you, but how long did you even know him? Three days?"
"He either lied to you, or he's dead—and if he's dead, he no longer cares. You need to move on," Jasmine said, shaking her head disapprovingly.
"Deceived? How? He healed me, freed me from what was essentially slavery and gave... gave a lot," Ariel caught herself when she almost told about what Viktor taught her. "Why do you treat a person you don't even know this way?"
"Quiet, quiet, sorry. I blurted that out without thinking, it's just that you remember him so often that you forget about yourself. It's like you made it your goal to live for him, not your own life. You've already done everything he asked, and now you owe him nothing," Jacqueline apologized, which she did quite rarely.
" I understand what you're talking about. But you weren't in my place. You weren't almost raped at 14, and for resisting, disfigured by a dark spell.
Your mother didn't die a terrible death for avenging that bastard. You didn't live three years afraid to look at yourself in the mirror and receiving only pity from others and disgust. "
And when, finally, a person was found who pulled me out of that hell, he dies. I felt it, Jacqueline! When he died, I felt it through Arthur," Ariel sobbed when she let out all her emotions.
"Well, do you feel better now?" - Jacqueline hugged her friend.
"So you did this on purpose?"
"Naturally, my father was a muggle, a psychology professor. When you were pregnant, I was afraid your hysteria might affect the child, but now it's okay. You needed to let out everything that had built up, but for that you had to be thrown off balance... sorry."
"Thank you, but never do that again! By the way, did you only come for this?" Ariel asked, looking at Jacqueline's sly face.
"Not only. Apolline has already tormented me with questions about when she can see her little brother?" she smiled at the new mother.
"All like you, just as curious and restless!"
"You bet!"
"Hey, that wasn't a compliment!"
"I know, so what? Will you let her look?"
"You still haven't given up the idea of making them friends?"
"What else is there? The other children in the coven are too old for her, so she's bored. And three-year-old children are real pains, so I'm already overwhelmed with her."
"So you want me to be overwhelmed?" Ariel asked, squinting suspiciously.
"Of course, I shouldn't be the only one suffering," Jacqueline answered as cheerfully as usual.
***
"Arthur, Arthur, let's play!" my newfound friend egged me on. Though she'd been fussing with me almost from the very beginning, I could only join her active games six months ago.
Yes, I'm already two years old, but I look three due to nourishing my body with excess prana. I don't do this always, most often I just go out to the undergrowth surrounding our feminist settlement and release almost all energy at once. As it turned out, this is quite useful for nous development, as well as dangerous for others.
Apolline followed my example. Though, unlike her, I also release energy with different intentions, not out of curiosity, but for experiment. I don't have enough will and control to take all mana into my power, but even from what worked out, interesting conclusions follow, confirming Lerach's words about magic: rituals, wands, word magic, staffs — all these are crutches helping to work magic.
The most important thing is the mage's will, his steel faith in getting results and mana. Natural magic is built on this, when you only desire and reality around you bends to this desire. But mastering it is as desirable as it is difficult. However, I achieved improvement in plant growth. If I'm going to work magic, let it be useful.
"Alright, let's go," — I agreed with this little pest who could annoy anyone. But here too I invented games that are interesting to play not only for her, but for me too. After all, I'm an adult in a child's body and playing the same dolls isn't particularly interesting for me.
Now we're going to the stone wall that fences our settlement from wild animals, werewolves, and centaurs. They're not really dangerous, but during full moon or when centaurs start their rut... better to be elsewhere, let's say.
And we have exactly a large settlement, with many small, often family houses, an administration building, our own elementary school and dormitories. Everyone here is quite friendly and used to veela peculiarities. Such as, for example, throwing magical fire.
I liked it here: fresh air, beautiful girls around and none of that rush I felt in London. The coven had its own, completely different rhythm of life. It wouldn't be strange for anyone to spend the whole day wandering in the undergrowth, watching ordinary and magical animals and trees.
Unlike uncontrolled forests, ours, located at the foot of the Pyrenees, was relatively safe thanks to werewolves, centaurs, and veelas destroying all dangerous creatures. And the warm climate only completed the picture of if not paradise, then a very pleasant place to live.
"Well, today we're throwing from twenty meters?" I asked Apolline, who was skipping along, making the hem of her green cotton dress bounce with her. I was dressed in brown shorts and a white shirt, though I still looked more like a girl.
And this was good, because if those around found out I was a boy — there would be an uproar. Of course, my name is strange for a girl, but mages give even stranger names to their offspring, for example, constellations.
Ariel herself asked me not to spread word about my gender, which shows the girl has gotten smarter during this time and understands that such fame won't bring me anything good.
"What, afraid to lose? Let's do thirty!" — who's afraid here! You're the one who constantly loses. But I'm not bored training alone either, and it's not hard for me to let her win sometimes.
"And who was whining last time that it was too far?" — at this moment we came to the part of the wall where a target was crudely drawn in chalk, decorated with numerous scorch marks and chips.
For hitting the center I awarded ten points, in the circle next to it — seven, and so on. At the same time, by this simple method I taught the girl to count, which amused me, looking at her cute little face, wise from mental work, trying to count on her fingers how much she scored. And she constantly makes mistakes!
Apolline always went first, because this fidget simply couldn't wait to show her prowess. And even if I shoot first — she'll jump around and get in the way.
The girl took what she considered a serious pose and turned into a half-bird-half-girl: two black wings sprouted from her back, her body was covered with feathers, her eyes turned yellow, and a beak appeared on her face instead of a nose.
For pureblooded veelas, transforming is the same as breathing. No training, gestures, or charms needed, just mental desire is enough. In principle, this isn't necessary for throwing fire, but it really makes it easier to control fire. The blood in the body seems to boil, and the aura overflows with power.
Yes, I turned out to be a veela and simply have no idea how this happened. This was discovered when I hit my little toe on the corner of a dresser and burned it to hell, transforming into a half-bird — too bad I didn't have a camera then to capture Ariel's face when she saw this picture.
No, I have one theory that's completely unconfirmed, but I don't have another. I think veela abilities are Me or, in other words, a soul superstructure. In that case, it becomes logical that if the father's magic is too strong, it simply suppresses the mother's magic and a boy is born, but at the same time, Me can't transfer to the soul.
And vice versa, if a girl is born, then Me transfers without problems, and I suspect that quarter-bloods and half-bloods, with proper desire and training, can awaken all the abilities of purebloods.
In that case, my situation becomes understandable: my goal was to preserve only gender, I didn't have enough desire or strength for the rest, which led to such an entertaining effect. But it didn't come without minuses.
For example, it's harder for me to be universal in elements, too much inclination toward fire, and correcting this by achieving the same level in others — I'll need about forty years, if not more. No, it's not that other magical arts won't come to me, it's just that with the same efforts I'll achieve much greater results in fire magic.
And Ariel won't give me the bracelet and wand, the miser! She said she'll arrange a surprise. However, considering tomorrow is my birthday... It's bad being an adult, everything is too clear.
By this moment the girl had thrown fire clots, half of which flew wide. Which didn't stop her from raising her... beak, looking at me challengingly. How do I know? Empathy awakened too. And at first this was a real curse, when I tried to separate others' emotions from my own, and when there were many of them... I just felt like puking.
"Well done, Apolline, much better already," — and before she could get proud of herself and blurt out something stupid, I continued: "Now watch how it's done."
I didn't transform on principle, the harder it is for me now, the much easier it will be in the second transformation. Ten balls, not shapeless clots like my friend's, flew one after another at the target. I hit the center only about three times, but the rest hit near it.
"That's not fair, Arthur! You're cheating!" the girl was indignant.
"How so?" — I asked, laughing.
"I don't know, but it doesn't happen like that! You're younger than me and didn't even become a bird!"
"Want me to tell you my secret?"
"Really? You'll tell me?"
"Of course, just come here, I'll whisper in your ear," — the girl curiously approached, changing her appearance to an ordinary girl, and put her ear to my lips. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?"
"I won't tell anyone, for sure!"
"I'm a veela!" — I whispered with emphasis, as if revealing the secret of the universe.
"Mooooom! Arthur is making fun of me!" Apolline ran to complain to her mother, Ariel's friend. That's how we live.
***
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