ksngdom

[ksngdom]

make me yours (ch. 1)

summary. life on the run is never easy, but it's even harder when you've got an assassin stalking you, a government agency on your tail and a billionaire turning up on your doorstep every few years -- like a vagabond cat she'd fed one too many times.

god, darcy lewis hates her life (she really doesn't).

authors note. a bdsm au with a fuck ton of plot. i know what i'm about, son.

word count. 2.5k

read this on ao3!

In the early winter months of 1965, bitter air and tendrils of ice gracing the point of every shard of grass in the expansive field, seven-year-old Darlene Lewis often spent her days chasing Elsie, her German Shepherd, around the grounds of Lewis Farm. The ranges of land and wood reached far and wide. Never did a day pass without the young girl spending hours exploring nature and losing herself in the depth of the land. It was okay, though; whenever Darlene got lost, Elsie always knew the best way to get them back home. 

Born in August 1958, Darlene’s parents had been informed of her classification when she was three days old. 

It was unheard of for a neutral to marry any classification other than their own, so when Janice, a neutral, announced her engagement to Ken, a dom, the news spread fast and wide. Nobody could quite believe that any self-respecting dom would ever agree to settle down with a non-sub, since it was often told that doms were hardwired to necessitate a sub in their lives. Some conspired about the true nature of their relationship and whether it was a cover for something much more complicated, but it became quickly clear that Ken and Janice were simply in love despite all of the odds stacked against them. 

The Lewis family had been defying norms since the very beginning. 

When their daughter was born, the couple swore to never force their girl to be anything she didn’t want to be. They’d experienced enough oppression during their life together to know certainly that they’d never wish it upon their daughter. 

On paper, Darlene Lewis was a sub, but in actuality, she was so much more than her classification. 

The little girl was a free spirit. She preferred trousers to skirts (much to her mother’s perpetual suffering) and took after her papa when it came to getting her hands dirty. Her mornings were spent feeding the livestock and riding on the back of the tractor before her mama would give her a shower and get her dressed for a day of homeschool and exploring. 

The decision to privately educate their girl hadn’t been one that the Lewis’ had made easily, but once they’d weighed up the pros and cons and taken a cold hard look at the local school’s policies when it came to educating subs, keeping her home swiftly became an easy decision. 

They ensured that she never lacked social contact and offered her a more enriched education than any of the public institutions ever would. Each subject was approached with sensitivity, especially the ones that delved into the history of subs and the harm they often faced in society, but each lesson had a purpose. By the time Darlene was five, she could say ‘no’ to her father without hesitation and held a stronger head on her shoulders than the vast majority of subs triple her age. 

Though the farm was well-removed from the nearest town, hidden away beyond miles and miles of winding roads and cobbled paths, the Lewis family were cherished by the local community. Their vegetables were the brightest to grace the shelves of the local grocers during the spring and summer months and their cuts of meat were highly sought after throughout the entirety of the year. 

Much to her parents’ unhinged delight, Darlene thrived at the farm. Her skin was tan and constellations of freckles adorned her cheeks. Her mother styled her hair every morning but by late afternoon it’d be hanging over her shoulder in its natural curls. Her skirts were only worn on special occasions, though she constantly complained until her mama gave in or her papa snuck her away to get her changed. Her dungarees were worn until they were hanging on by thin threads and she had more pairs of patterned wellington boots than she could possibly count.

The winter was always that little bit tougher at the farm. It took more effort to harvest the fields and the livestock needed to be kept well cared for even on the coldest of days. Preparation for the spring season started in November. Ken Lewis spent his days working hard, often with his little helper (Darlene) by his side, whilst Janice Lewis took care of the house and ensured that her family didn’t spend too long working without reprise. 

It was during the second week of November when the initial symptom of things to come arose. Like she often managed to do, Darlene finished her studies early and begged her mama to let her go and explore the fields with Elsie. By the time she was wrapped up warm, a scarf around her neck, gloves on and a heavy thermal coat wrapped around her body, the fields were screaming her name. 

Two hours of playing chase with a German Shepherd was bound to leave anyone exhausted, but Darlene had always had seemingly endless bounds of energy. Days working hard as a farmhands assistant and sprinting for hours on end meant that she had the stamina of a professional sportsman, easily. 

That was why it was such a concern when after only ten minutes of chasing Elsie through the meadow, Darlene’s vision whited out and she collapsed into a heap on the frostbitten grass.  

Her parents were quick to rush to her aid once they’d been alerted that something was wrong by Elsie’s remarkably powerful barks and howls. Janice had sobbed in terror, holding the limp girl in her arms as Ken did his best to remain calm and composed as he did his best to analyse the severity of the situation. To their aching relief, Darlene stirred after only five minutes, bleary-eyed and complaining of a headache so painful that it was making her eyes throb. 

It took five months of exams and inquests before Darlene was officially diagnosed with acute childhood Leukemia. 

In 1965, though the field of medical research was thriving, Leukemia survival rates in children remained abysmal. Ken and Janice were told that their daughter, once so full of energy and now bedbound with fatigue and sickness, wouldn’t live to see her eighth birthday. 

It felt like all hope was lost.

Lewis farm closed down that summer season for the first time in three decades. 

***

It was the summer of 1976. The Outer Space Treaty had been signed and the twenty-fifth amendment had been added to the Constitution. In Somerville, Massachusetts, the sun was setting and the coral hues of the scene were encompassing a wide range of land. A family of three stand together, lost for words as they take shallow breaths of warm air. The whistling summertime breeze sweeping through the shrubs and trees reverberates gently throughout the sparse meadow, enclosing the farm in a blanket of false pretences.

Darlene Lewis, twenty-one years old, swallows roughly. 

There's so much that needs to be said but not nearly enough time. 

At eighteen, the progression of age developing her physical appearance had halted without warning. In what her mama termed disbelief and her papa declared to be chosen-ignorance, it took two years for her to discern the undeniable fact that her body was stuck in time. At twenty she looked as young as she had two years ago and there was little expectation for that to change anytime soon. 

Denial was sour. 

Darlene Lewis stares down at the tombstone and swallows roughly.

A terrible boating accident -- that was the narrative her parents had fed to the town and the state, respectively. Darlene had been sailing with her father, dipping her feet into the ocean when a harsh current had swept her into the unforgiving depths of the rough waters. Her body would be impossible to find; the sea offered no second chances. It was a devastating, perfect cover story. 

Nobody could question the empty wicker casket, nor could they wonder why they couldn’t bid a final farewell to the girl who’d become a special part of the local community over the years. It was a seamless cover-story that was undoubtedly plausible. After all, the percentage of boating accidents that ended in tragedy was considerable. 

The grey-toned stone stands upon a freshly filled burial ground, cursive writing adorning the face of the plaque drilled onto the face. 

Darlene May Lewis. Beloved daughter and friend. Gone but never forgotten. 

A shiver of guilt climbs up Darlene’s spine as her hazel eyes trace the lettering.

The Lewis family had requested privacy during their period of mourning; far from unusual in such an unexpected circumstance. Their farm was blanketed in a wave of grief, though for a far different reason than everyone believed. 

Darlene Lewis wasn’t dead but was having to say goodbye to her parents anyway. 

On her left, long hair tied into a loose plait, her mother stands with red-tinged eyes. On her right, her father stands tall but keeps a grounding hand on Darlene’s shoulder steadily. 

They stand in taciturnity as a wave of impassioned tautness encompasses them. 

When her father draws in a sharp breath, Darlene knows what he's thinking and that nothing she says will halt his self-deprecating train of thought. Remaining quiet, she pushes her lips together and purposefully re-directs her gaze away from the gravestone. 

Attending her own mock funeral was going to give her a complex, no doubt about it. 

"I love you, Darlene." Janice Lewis says. The silence that envelops the trio is heavy. She's speaking to the headstone, as though her daughter isn't stood by her side. Darlene’ss heart twinges. "And I will love you for the rest of eternity."

The woman takes a deep breath when her mother begins to cry soundlessly.

"If I had done things differently--" 

"Don’t do this to yourself." Darlene interrupts, voice unsteady as she spares a glance up at her father. "If you'd done things differently, I wouldn't be stood here today."

Ken Lewis grunts, sweeping away a stray tear with the back of his hand. "You can't know that for sure, Darcy-girl." He speaks. "I should've found another way. I could’ve found another way. But you were so small and so sick. They told me you were dying and I swear my heart truly broke into millions of pieces.” 

Janice Lewis weeps into her hand at the memory. 

"And then you saved me." Darlene reminds him, tenderly. She reaches out blindly to take her mother’s hand, desperate to give the woman as much comfort as she could. Her chest burns. "You gave me the chance to live a normal life, papa."

Because no matter what anyone in the past of future had to say about it, Darlene Lewis had defied all odds and lived a normal childhood. She’d eventually entered the public school system and made friends and memories that she’d remember for the rest of her life. She’d babysat for people in their town and saved up her allowance for two years in order to buy the perfect prom dress. She’d lost her virginity to a neutral (all of the teenaged doms in town had given her the heebie-jeebies). She’d graduated with a 3.5 GPA and decided to forgo college, which is where the majority of her friends had flocked to following the completion of high-school.

For argument’s sake, there were certain aspects to her life that were more unusual than others. Her heightened senses and agility were the most prominent as she was growing up, but the no-ageing thing had hit hard at eighteen and taken the mantle as the most apparent anomaly that separated her from the general population.   

"There is nothing normal about you, Darlene." Her father says, shaking his head. The woman almost cracks a small smile, desperate for a sense of normalcy, but his defeated tone is deplorable. "I will never forgive myself for what I did to you. I was reckless and desperate but I should’ve known better."

Momentarily, Darlene lets her gaze flicker to the horizon. She briefly wonders whether a comparable metaphor can be drawn from the sun setting below the horizon and marking the end of a day, a week, an era. 

Leaving everything behind wouldn’t be easy, she’d always known that, but they’d be safe. That was what she had to keep reminding herself, again and again. Loneliness was a small price to pay in order to keep the two people she loved most in the world safe.

"You saved me," Darlene repeats, meeting her father’s eyes. "You loved me too much to let me die. You loved me so much that you spent a fortnight in a lab finding a way to save my life and you actually did. You loved me so much that you recreated the serum that made Captain America and used it to cure my cancer, papa. You did that for me and I won't ever be able to thank you enough for it."

A lull falls over the meadow. In the far distance, a flock of birds begin to chirp and a deer sniffs at the trunk of a tree. Darlene gets lost in the depth of her senses until her mother sets a gentle hand on her arm and squeezes. 

"Where will you go?" She asks. Her voice is raw with emotion as, for the first time in what feels like centuries, she fixes her eyes on her daughter. 

Darlene breathes softly. "I'll go anywhere. Everywhere."

The possibilities were endless and though she painted a smile on her face to appease her worrisome parents, her stomach twisted uneasily at the concept. 

She'd always wanted to travel the globe but never imagined having to do it alone.

Her mom’s hand falls from her arm to grasp her hand and Darlene forces herself to breathe evenly.

They'll be safe when she's gone. They'll be safe when she's gone. 

She repeats the phrase like a mantra in her head. Again and again, until her temples begin to throb. It hurts but she doesn't stop, she can’t stop, because if she doesn't keep reminding herself why she's doing this, walking away will be impossible. 

They'll be safe when she's gone. 

"Will we ever see you again?" Her father asks, solemn. It's selfish to ask, he knows it, but the strained words fall from his mouth before he can filter them.

"I love you both," Darlene says. Her parents wince at the obvious deflection. It hurts her and it hurts them just as much. "I always will."

"Be safe, my girl." Her father places a kiss on her forehead, an act of familial dominance that makes her heart warm. Being a sub in a society governed by the two other secondary-genders had always been tough, but her papa had never let anyone treat her like anything less than the smart, beautiful woman she was. "If you ever need anything, we'll be here."

Her throat tightens when her mother leans in and kisses her cheek but doesn't manage a word between her silent sobs.

On June 18th, 1976, Darlene Lewis was officially registered dead with the state.

On June 23rd, 1976, Darcy Mae was born.