happilyeverbeginning | So stay away from me / the beast is ugly (scrooge x magica)

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So stay away from me / the beast is ugly (scrooge x magica)

The carriage ride was so long that by the time the horses stopped, night had already settled in. It was a full moon, allowing the stone pathway to be illuminated. The rider said nothing, simply taking Scrooge's bags and walking on ahead. With any luck, this wouldn't be a return trip - but luck had died long ago in this place.

In the distance, one could hear the caws of several ravens, far away in the dark forests. It was difficult to see the house in the darkness, but it was certainly large and grand. Definitely belonging to someone of high class and lots of money. After all, it was part of the reason Scrooge was here.

Another servant was at the door, waiting for them.

"Either look her in the eyes," he warned, "or have them stay on the floor. Never anywhere else. Just keep your introduction and qualifications short. it is..." He hesitated, glancing backwards. "Often too easy to stoke her anger. And lastly... never ask questions."

Some of these things had probably been told to Scrooge before - he'd been recommended the job, after all. Granted, the recommendation came with the mysterious woman buying up his shop like it was nothing. Still, it seemed at least the servants wanted this to go well.

Whatever "this" was... it was about to begin, if he was ready to enter.

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"I..." Oh. She hadn't expected that. They ate together, but he wanted more? What more could she give him, when she devoted her hours to finding Ratface?

But he would be found eventually. Then what? Her life goal had been to be rich enough to live alone, but now that she had the goal accomplished... she wasn't sure what she'd do with her life. Didn't Scrooge want to go back to his bookshop?

She was clearly hesitating.

"I... I need to think it over." Which wasn't a lie, but wasn't the whole truth either.

And there it was: proof that she wasn't interested.

He gave an awkward smile. "Let's have breakfast. I'm sure I'll think of something else by next week."

"Right, next week." She quickly got to eating, desperate to have a reason not to speak.

The truly excellent food tasted like ash, but Scrooge didn't care. He mentally berated himself.

What had he been thinking? He'd known better. No woman in her right mind would ever pick a cripple.

When he finished, he leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you at lunch?"

She nodded numbly, touching his arm for half a moment. "Of course, at lunch."

Her stomach felt sick, but she assumed it was her heart that was the real trouble.

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, forcing a soft smile on his face.

'As long as she's happy.'

She watched him go, and tried to clear her head. Her first thought should always be Ratface - and anything else could be dealt with once he was found.

When they met for lunch, things were awkward, but they smoothed over as both parties tried to deny the obvious. Days like this passed, trying to be happy and ignore anything else.

That sick feeling would come and go, getting worse in the mornings...

Scrooge had no ideas that Magica was feeling ill in the mornings. If he wasn't having a meal with her, he didn't typically see much of her after all.

Still, she'd been starting to look a bit different. Good different. But he couldn't put his finger as to what it was.

Exactly one month passed since she cast that spell, and then...

Early one morning, after another night of love-making, Magica was examining herself in the mirror. She frowned, hands on her stomach, twisting and turning to capture every angle of herself. True, she didn't get a lot of exercise, but to think she'd actually be gaining weight...!

"Maybe mother McDuck's meals really are fattening me up." She mumbled to herself.

Scrooge limped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and placing his hands on her belly.

"That isn't a bad thing," he told her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Very few men would say that."

Strange how it didn't exactly feel like fat fat - not that Scrooge had much experiencing rubbing the bellies of fat women.

True, he hadn't touched any fat women's bellies, but he'd seen them often enough and how they moved. Fat jiggled and squished easily.

Magica felt...solid. Yes, there was fat there, but it was a thin layer over something hard.

His mind flitted back to his childhood. He could see his mother humming as she set the table with what little food they had. She'd been much skinnier then except for the distension in her belly. He remembered the dread of what that meant and what that would mean for the family with too many mouths to feed already.

"...Magica, what was that spell you cast again?"

Magica blinked. "What spell?" She'd cast a few in these weeks, but they had been small, simple things. He probably meant the last one he saw her perform.

"Oh, that one... the one to bring life where there wasn't. It was to make sure Ratface wasn't dead, remember?"

"Are you sure that's what it was?" Scrooge asked. "And when was the last time you used a spell to prevent children?"

"Of course it..." She trailed off, startled. Was he really thinking...?

No. Surely not.

"My tea is laced with special herbs to prevent such things." But a powerful enough spell could ignore it - no. No. She wasn't. She couldn't be.

She suddenly broke from his embrace. "I... I need to consult my books."

"I can help," he said. A day away from the numbers wouldn't hurt her finances.

"I don't need your help!" She barked sharply, already storming out the door.

She couldn't be pregnant, she just couldn't! They were both just being paranoid!

He didn't follow her, standing there and watching her go forlornly.

Finally, he went to go get dressed. If she was pregnant, it was likely his egg.

'I wonder if she'll let me take the egg with me when she fires me.'

Probably not.

Long hours passed. She wouldn't join him for lunch, nor for dinner. It was late at night, nearly time for bed, when Clara nervously knocked at Scrooge's door.

"The... mistress wants to have a word with you." She said gently.

And there it was.

Scrooge said nothing, the somber tapping of his cane on the ground saying everything for him. He wondered if he could plead for the egg's existence, to allow him to take the egg she likely didn't want.

'Would she believe me if I told her that I'd never tell anyone who its mother is?'

Clara led him to Magica's room, trying to find words to say but unsure how. She knocked on Magica's door, but opened it without waiting for Magica's permission.

Magica was sitting on the bed, her eyes down on the floor, several open books around her.

Scrooge swallowed as he entered, standing before her and having no idea if he'd be allowed to provide any sort of comfort.

"...It was a fertility spell, wasn't it?" he asked softly.

Clara closed the door behind Scrooge to give them their privacy.

Magica sighed slowly, not looking at him. "... Yes. It... increased my 'ability' tenfold. No matter how many teas I drank to prevent it, the spell was stronger."

He looked at her before he fell to his knees before her, begging.

"Please...please lay it. I know it's selfish of me, but..."

But this might be the only child he ever had.

"If you want me gone, I can take the egg with me. You'll never hear from us again."

Startled, Magica whipped her head around, speaking without thinking. "You'd take my child away from me?"

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