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She had once said that the world needed more gardens, that after all the darkness and death there should be some place for one to go that would fill you with love and light. For Elain, it had always been her gardens, tending to her roses and pulling up weeds, the nicks and bruises proof of her labour. She was content in her garden, happy and fulfilled.
Recently her garden had flowered in more ways than one, three new additions to her family sat playing on a blanket a few feet away from their mother. Two little girls and a boy, her darling children. Her little flowers squealing and giggling as they clambered all over their father — ruthless Spymaster of Night — as he lay helpless beneath his gaggle of toddlers.
The sight filled her with joy, the four loves of her life bringing a sense of wonder she had never felt before.
Her perfect family.