my heart was glass, you dropped it

(520 NE, a few months after Cato and Elise first hook up)

Elise was surprised, and a little afraid, at how happy she was.

She and Cato had been officially dating for a while now. Of course, neither of their parents knew yet, since that was a more demanding ask, but Elise was fully confident that in the next few months they would gather the courage to each tell their parents. Of course Elise's mother and father would be delighted, but she knew it would be more difficult for Cato.

Their graduation had come and gone, and they had celebrated with a small party with their friends. It was generally accepted by their social circlethat they were together, and Elise could endure Cato's pals teasing about her being a commoner, since Cato stood beside her the entire time, his arm around her waist.

Elise hadn't thought it possible when they first started seeing each other, but now they freely exchanged their 'I love you's' and whispered hopes for the future- and any time Cato's father was away, she was at his house. She felt as if she knew the staff there as well as she knew her own servants, and Cato's siblings were always excited to see her.

Only, there was a new wrench in the plan. Just a few weeks ago Elise had started feeling nauseous when she woke up. She had dismissed it as food poisoning or a general illness, but the more it persisted, and the later her period was, the more nervous she got.

She was on the special herbal concoction to prevent this sort of thing. Sure, it wasn't 100% effective, and sure, she and Cato had been reckless... very frequently... but this didn't happen to rich girls. Conceiving outside of marriage was a peasant thing to do.

Finally, nervously, Elise visited a nearby clinic after school, a scarf wrapped around her head and her face kept lowered towards the ground. The nurse welcomed her and inspected her thoroughly, prodding and casting silent spells and nodding to herself before dealing the devastating blow.

Elise was pregnant.

Elise paid her and rushed home, locking herself in her room before collapsing into her desk chair. For a while, she couldn't think straight, a mixture of panic and disbelief and uncertainty derailing her thoughts. She was technically of legal age, so this was her own problem to deal with, but her father would certainly disown her.

Maybe she and Cato could have a shotgun wedding? It would be rushed and people would certainly suspect the reason, but gossip would fade after a while and she'd have the social protection of a legitimate marriage and child. Maybe she could run away with Cato? It was less desirable, but perhaps easier for him than telling his father.

Elise laid her hands on her knees, exhaling slowly to stop her shaking. It was okay- she didn't have to figure this out on her own. Cato loved her, and he would love this baby, too. He would protect her.

She would tell Cato, and he would know what to do.

(following events in roleplay)

(520 NE, the weekend following the breakup)
(18+)

Elise looked her best that night. Her brown curls had been brushed out into soft waves, her cheeks dabbed lightly with rouge, her maroon dress especially picked out to highlight her curves. Elise had not cried that day- she couldn't, or the redness in her gaze might tip Wharton off. Still, the eyes looking back at her in the mirror were dead and flat in hue, far from the sparkling green they had been not two weeks earlier.

She was lucky her father was throwing another dinner party so soon. The performance she put on during dinner was a valiant one, filled with smiles and jokes and furtive glances in Wharton's direction. When he followed her out onto the patio after dinner, she did not shy away from his gaze.

"I sense you have something to tell me, Elise," he said, his sour mouth tilting up into a smile.

"I do," she said, sidling closer and placing her hand on his chest. "I'd like to make you a lucky man, my Lord."

---

Their first encounter was not that night, since there was no space in Elise's house where they could inconspicuously do anything. Instead, Elise met Lord Wharton at a hotel in town the following night. She stood still as he walked around her in circles, drinking in the image of her.

When he told her to undress, she did, feeling the chill of the air bite her skin. The way he looked at her was not like Cato, who had been hungry and passionate and appreciative. Wharton eyed her body with a cool kind of appraisal, nodding to himself. He moved forward, pinching her nipple hard between his fingers and slipping his other hand into her hair, knotting it in her curls as he brought his thin, demanding lips down onto hers.

Elise lay beneath him in the bed, her eyes closed as Wharton thrust into her. She had hoped she could pretend he was Cato, but the warmth and fun was completely absent, and even her imagination could not compensate. Her skin crawled with revulsion whenever he grabbed at her breast, whenever his heavy breath brushed her ear. All she could think about was her father's picnics when she was a mere child, when Wharton had complimented her father about how pretty she was getting.

A tear escaped her closed eyes before she could wipe it away. Wharton looked down at it, lifting a finger to brush the drop away. As Elise opened her eyes, Wharton lifted the finger to his mouth and placed the tear on his tongue, his eyes alight with some sick pleasure from her pain. It didn't take long after that for him to finish inside her. As he stood and dressed, he told her the next time and date that she should meet him.

When he left the hotel room, Elise ran to the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet. Weakly, she sank to the cold marble floor, curling on her side. She lay there for a long time, staring at the base of the sink and letting the tears puddle underneath her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered into the stillness, though she wasn't sure who she was speaking to.

Elise's hands found her stomach, pressing against the smooth skin, hoping she was making the right decision.

(following events in roleplay)

(522 NE, near the end of Elise's pregnancy)

Elise had grown accustomed to the loneliness.

A year and a half of isolation was a far cry from her adolescence of friends and dates and popularity. The first few months had been especially hard. Tristan had met her at the farmhouse, shown her around, and given her the first bit of allowance for groceries and supplies.

The village nearby was a small one, and she was immediately judged when the wives learned she was unmarried and pregnant. The only visits she received were from Tristan, and from a few less judgmental farm wives. Elise slowly learned to fill her time with embroidery, knitting, reading, and gardening.

It didn't make the loneliness go away, but it filled her days with things to do. She experimented with cooking, with baking, and even saved up to purchase a puppy from a nearby farmer. The house was a beautiful one, the land good for walking and farming.

Her mother sometimes visited. Her father rarely did. Cato never wrote- that's what her mother told her. He must have heard.

Elise was alone. She wasn't sure if it was better than being a mistress of Lord Wharton or not. The pain she faced here was different. Less revulsion with herself, more regret and empty aching and wishing things were different. Hers was not a happy pregnancy.

Her stomach swelled, rounding out to accommodate the child- Cato's child- growing in her. The first time she felt the baby kick, she broke down and cried, hands cradling the curve of her belly. Her choices had cost her her own happiness, her relationship with Cato, her future, but perhaps it would give this baby a chance. It would have financial security, a happy childhood, perhaps even a Lordship one day.

She was visited weekly by a local doctor, who proclaimed her and the baby healthy. Physically, perhaps that was true. But Elise had changed in her isolation. Gone was the bright and witty girl whom Cato had loved, and in her place was someone more burdened, quieter, more private, more sarcastic. Broken dreams tended to curdle even the most pure of souls.

When her delivery time came, she wrote asking her mother to come for the birth. Her father wrote back instead, saying that whores didn't get the privilege of their mothers at their bedside to witness a bastard's birth. Elise burned that letter in the fireplace, her tears falling onto the hearth.

The pain of childbirth was unbearable. She was attended by nurses and midwives and doctors- only the best for a Lord's child. Elise cried for her mother, screaming into the candlelight and clutching a nurse's hand as she pushed. The sweat soaked her hair, and her body was at its limits, when the doctors leaned down to catch the baby, announcing it as a boy and placing him on her chest.

The baby blinked up at her, small and wrinkly and shrieking with hunger. He had a fuzzy head of black hair, and small blue-green eyes. Elise sobbed as she clutched him closer, holding the one person that life couldn't take away from her, the one person who was hers unconditionally.

"Did you have a name in mind?" The nurse asked her kindly after the baby had nursed and fallen asleep, her experienced hands wiping the sweat from her forehead with a cloth.

Elise nodded, gazing down at the child with a deep, unfathomable love in her gaze. He gripped her finger in his small hand, bundled in soft blankets. "Charlie- Charlie Monroe."

So the baby was named, but in her mind she always called him another name.

Charlie Rotherhithe.