Selvaggia AU: The Best Revenge
Revenge. It drove her from the moment she heard that her ex-husband--the man who'd left her because he "needed to be alone," because he "couldn't stand to put her in danger"--had taken another woman to his heart and bed. Oh, to be sure, Selvaggia worried about the life and health of her son, but in her mind, nothing could be better for his life and health than to see things put right. In this case, things being put right meant that every heart he took to his hands, every body he took to his bed would be burned.
Perhaps through a lack of luck on her part, or perhaps through some sort of divine intervention, she didn't even manage to burn the first--a ragged wraith of a street rat, not at all worth what she had no doubt he gave her. Still, Selvaggia didn't manage to burn this girl. By some fortune or another, the street rat had friends. By some fortune or another, one of those friends was a young squire, embittered by bad luck and the sadness that followed every Lordaeron survivor. By some fortune or another, Selvaggia found herself matching wits with the boy.
The boy. The man. He was younger than she was by several years, but as time passed and Selvaggia forgot the embers of revenge cooling in her heart, she thought of the age difference less and less. She cared less and less that she was technically his aunt. She cared less and less that he used to stiffen under her touch but now seemed to melt beneath her fingertips. She no longer embraced the atheism that was her creed once Lordaeron fell; he brought faith back to her life, golden warmth to her heart, and a smile to her lips.
More than that, she felt cleansed by him. Oh, she would never drop the disdain she held for most of the world--and he wouldn't love her, were she any different--but the last bit of demonic taint was purged from her system by the golden glow from his hands. With that taint went the regard for her ex-husband and anything he might have seen fit to bring to his heart and bed. Nothing mattered anymore but her new life. Even Garrett, embittered by his birth father's disappearance, slowly grew to love the new father fortune brought to their lives.
Things were far from perfect. Life still had its ways of throwing them twists and turns, and Selvaggia and her new husband had more than their fair share of explosive arguments, but at the end of the day, when his arm curled about her bare shoulders, fingers barely grazing over the scars of her first marriage, she couldn't help but smile. In most cases, she knew, the best revenge against someone was living well. In her case, however, wrapped in a true warmth and love that she could never have imagined, the best revenge against her ex-husband was simply living.
Perhaps through a lack of luck on her part, or perhaps through some sort of divine intervention, she didn't even manage to burn the first--a ragged wraith of a street rat, not at all worth what she had no doubt he gave her. Still, Selvaggia didn't manage to burn this girl. By some fortune or another, the street rat had friends. By some fortune or another, one of those friends was a young squire, embittered by bad luck and the sadness that followed every Lordaeron survivor. By some fortune or another, Selvaggia found herself matching wits with the boy.
The boy. The man. He was younger than she was by several years, but as time passed and Selvaggia forgot the embers of revenge cooling in her heart, she thought of the age difference less and less. She cared less and less that she was technically his aunt. She cared less and less that he used to stiffen under her touch but now seemed to melt beneath her fingertips. She no longer embraced the atheism that was her creed once Lordaeron fell; he brought faith back to her life, golden warmth to her heart, and a smile to her lips.
More than that, she felt cleansed by him. Oh, she would never drop the disdain she held for most of the world--and he wouldn't love her, were she any different--but the last bit of demonic taint was purged from her system by the golden glow from his hands. With that taint went the regard for her ex-husband and anything he might have seen fit to bring to his heart and bed. Nothing mattered anymore but her new life. Even Garrett, embittered by his birth father's disappearance, slowly grew to love the new father fortune brought to their lives.
Things were far from perfect. Life still had its ways of throwing them twists and turns, and Selvaggia and her new husband had more than their fair share of explosive arguments, but at the end of the day, when his arm curled about her bare shoulders, fingers barely grazing over the scars of her first marriage, she couldn't help but smile. In most cases, she knew, the best revenge against someone was living well. In her case, however, wrapped in a true warmth and love that she could never have imagined, the best revenge against her ex-husband was simply living.