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pastelwitchling · 5 years ago

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Prince of Gardens (malex)

Rated T for mention of rape/non-con.

Chapter One. 1748

Michael was sixteen when he first met him. He was seated in his family’s carriage, his head out the window as he watched the buildings, shops, and pubs of London race by. He thought of Wyatt, wondering if he had received his letter. He sincerely hoped he did, otherwise, this entire trip was going to be a waste.

“Michael, enough,” his mother said as he was yanked back inside. She was harshly patting down the wrinkles of his sleeve. “That is no way for a young man to behave.”

“I just wanted to see,” Michael murmured, slumping in his seat, moving his arm away from his mother before his skin bruised.

“Your mother’s right, boy,” his aunt said, an amused smile on her face. “My dear, what if people were to see you? Why, we’d be the talk of the town!”

Michael rolled his eyes at his aunt’s usual dramatics. Surely, he thought, the people of this town couldn’t be so bored with their lives that they’d strike up gossip about a young man sticking his head out a carriage. But of course, Michael did know better.

His family was of great fortune, and even greater status. The Harringtons were the talk of the town no matter what they did. But it worked both ways. His mother always spoke of the rumors speculating around them as if she was irritated by them, but Michael had the sneaking suspicion that she very much enjoyed the attention. She, in fact, was involved in the conversations herself, frequently gossiping to her sister and whomever would listen about other wealthy families. The less fortunate were never worth much of her time.

Today, it seemed, the excitement was about the Lowther family and their daughter. Michael knew the Lowther family as they had been over to their estate several times. Their daughter Adelaide was nice enough, and Michael’s parents had always seemed so happy to have them over. Michael had thought they were friends of the family, and whenever he asked his mother if she liked them, she’d look at him strangely and say, “Of course, Michael,” as if it was obvious that she did.

And yet, she seemed to have no trouble talking about their latest scandal as if it was a hilarious outrage. Michael didn’t understand. Maybe the friendships of grownups would make more sense to him when he was older himself. For now, he was content with silently judging his family.

“I feel rather sorry for them,” his mother said, sounding not at all sorry. “To have their daughter run off with some stable boy.”

“How will they ever show their faces in public again?” his aunt said, her hand on her chest. “Why, I’d be positively mortified!”

His mother shook her head disapprovingly. “You know me, darling. I am not one to judge others for their actions, but it involves the reputation of your entire household! Honestly, did that girl give no thought to her family?”

“Selfish, if you ask me,” his aunt said, her chin raised.

“Perhaps she was seduced,” Michael’s father said from behind his newspaper. “I would not be surprised if the boy had turned out to be one of them.”

“You don’t mean,” the aunt gaped, “a Witchling?” She seemed to think about it a moment, her eyes wide, then she said, “Yes, I suppose he very well could’ve been.”

Michael’s mother gave his father a stern look. “You really mustn’t tell such ridiculous stories, Harold.”

“But are they ridiculous, my dear?” he raised a brow. “Do not forget, my father had lived once with one of those creatures, swore up and down that it had saved his life in his youth – a boating accident, in fact!”

Michael’s mother rolled her eyes, muttering something none too kindly about her husband’s father.

“What creatures?” Michael asked, his interest peaked. “What are you talking about, father?”

“Oh, honestly, Michael—"

“Witchlings, my son,” his father said, setting down his newspaper. He was pleased to have someone interested in the story. “No more than a hundred years ago, there was said to be another young man with the name Michael, just as you – Michael Axtell. I am a bit hazy on the details of the story, but from what I do recall, he fell in love with a young woman who later revealed herself to be an elf. She disappeared one day, and so he, in his desperation, spent his lifetime researching her kind, only to realize that there were more than elves.”

“More?”

“Yes,” his father said eagerly. “Not just elves! He called the lot Witchlings, and his stories of them were passed through others that had encountered the kind as well. Even my father. These creatures are said to be scattered all over the earth, all gifted with abilities of magic.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Magic? You mean like witches? And wizards? They’re real?”

“Of course they’re not!” his mother snapped. She cast her husband a sharp look. “Filling his mind with such fairytales, have you nothing better to do?”

His father made a hmph sound as he straightened his paper and said, “Just because you choose not to believe in the other world, it doesn’t mean everyone else is forced to the same constricted faith. Let the boy believe in what he wants.”

“I will not have him wasting his time in your fantasy world. If the Greeks now know better than to believe in their gods of magic, why can’t you?”

The arguing continued with occasional snippets of Michael’s aunt, agreeing with his mother every now and then, but Michael had stopped listening. He didn’t want to convey his opinions out loud, so as not to give his mother any satisfaction, but he couldn’t help but think that the whole ordeal of Michael Axtell and Witchlings sounded more like a story to scare children into behaving, and he wasn’t having it. After all, if such creatures really did exist, wouldn’t he have seen one by now?

It was customary, Michael had discovered long ago, for families of their status to make appearances at social events, whether or not any of them actually cared to go. And every time, Michael was forced to attend these dramatic plays. He believed that if his parents were going to be miserable, then he would have to be as well.

Except this time, when they reached their high box in the stands, Michael realized that they were not alone, which was odd considering his parents liked to show off their extraordinary wealth, and what better way to do that than flaunting privileges no one else had?

However, it came as no surprise to Michael to see his mother smile widely at the sight of the other guests. She shook hands with a woman Michael thought looked remarkably like her. Her husband shook Harold’s hand with a hearty laugh and a cigar in his other hand. And then there was their daughter. She looked like a miniature version of her mother; the blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, the piercing blue eyes. She couldn’t have been any older than Michael was. As he looked her over, Michael thought he’d never seen anyone look so mature for their age.

“Eleanor Prissley,” she introduced herself to Michael’s parents with a polite curtsey. When her eyes landed on Michael, she smiled, and Michael stepped back. He flushed and regained his composure immediately, though it became significantly harder to look Eleanor in the eyes after that.

She seemed pleased with his reaction, her chin tilting upwards ever so slightly and her smile resembling more of a smirk. He wondered if he was the only one to notice that. He looked to his parents, but they were preoccupied with their greetings.

Eleanor curtseyed, and said, “Pleasure.”

Michael blinked, then cleared his throat and stretched a hand out to take Eleanor’s. She slid her fingers into his, and he awkwardly brought her hand to his lips, just as he had been taught in his lessons, and mumbled, “Hello.”

“You are Michael, I presume?” she said. “I have heard a great deal about you, but I must say, you are even more handsome than I had imagined you to be.”

Michael looked away, and eventually thanked her in a voice barely over a whisper. There was something odd about the way she spoke, of the way she smiled at him, as if it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Michael,” his mother said, having noticed his lack of initiative. She was smiling, but her gaze on him was hard. “Doesn’t Eleanor look beautiful this evening?”

Eleanor smiled and turned her face to the side, her hand on her cheek as if waiting for Michael to wholeheartedly agree with his mother.

In the end, all he had managed was a weak, “Yeah, sure,” and Eleanor’s smile turned smaller, her brows slightly knitted.

Michael’s mother glared at him, and he could see her jaw clench. He also noticed Eleanor’s parents glancing at him, as if evaluating him. He didn’t understand why it was so important for him to shower this girl with complements, especially seeing as how it was very unlikely that he would ever see her again. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t. They had barely been in each other’s presence for five minutes, and he was already uncomfortable.

If Eleanor noticed this, she did not comment. Instead, she smiled at Michael’s mother, and said in an amused voice, “It’s quite alright, Mrs. Harrington. I find Michael’s loss of words quite flattering.”

As Michael’s mother considered this response, his father clapped him suddenly on the shoulder. “Well, you know boys, eh?” he said with a laugh. “We see something beautiful, and we become speechless!”

“Hear hear!” Eleanor’s father laughed as well, raising his glass of champagne, and as Michael and Eleanor were led to their seats beside each other, their fathers went into a reminiscence their own youth while the mothers spoke of each other’s dresses and how extravagant and expensive their own were.

Eleanor would chime into the conversation every once in a while, her eyes directing back to Michael’s, making him want to move his seat further away. He thought about what his father said, about being speechless at the sight of beauty. He didn’t know why he was so uncomfortable around Eleanor, but somehow, that didn’t feel like the right reason.

His interactions with Eleanor for the night did not end. Not even close. More than once during the production, whenever the actors said a phrase in Latin or French, she would lean over and translate it for Michael, then proceed to go into a detailed explanation of the story behind the reference being made. Michael politely nodded, throwing in a fake chuckle a few times. He hoped they sounded forced enough that Eleanor would understand that he simply didn’t care, but either she was just really dim, or she was ignoring him because by the time they had come up to their third hour, she was leaning over more frequently, scoffing at the poor craftsmanship of the props being used in the play.

“As if any authentic French dresser would have such carvings!” she’d giggle, and Michael could only hum in response. He pulled his father’s old pocket watch out and checked the time. Another fifteen minutes before an intermission, and he would attempt to escape as planned. As his leg bounced eagerly at the prospect of getting to enjoy a night out in London without his family, Michael thought of his old acquaintance, Wyatt, and hoped, not for the for the first time since leaving home, that Wyatt would meet him where they had agreed.

At last, the curtains closed, signaling the end of the first act, but not before Eleanor leaned over for what felt like the millionth time, and explained to Michael – rather smugly – the difference between cream pearls and white pearls.

“Yeah, that’s great,” he said thoughtlessly as he stood and moved to stand in front of his mother. He excused himself to the bathroom and she waved him off. She glanced at Eleanor over her shoulder and gave her a smile, then warned Michael to hurry back quickly.

As soon as he was out, he pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders, and walked out into the chilly night. He could see his breath fan out in white tufts before his face, and he smiled. He could breathe so much more freely out here. He pulled his pocket watch out once more and tucked it back inside, then made his way across the street and followed Wyatt’s directions from his letter which he had memorized.

He found the small tailor shop that Wyatt had mentioned, and from then on, he walked a straight line to the right of the entrance until he spotted a pub at the end of the street. It was small, the wooden sign outside that read The Black Beetle was chipped, the painted letters looked faint and scratched, and even from several feet away, Michael caught the scent of smoke and strong alcohol. He smiled to himself and hurried the rest of the way to the front door.

As soon as he opened it, he was hit with the warmth of pipes that had been undoubtedly lit since the sun had set, there were men seated at the chairs and standing around each other’s tables, all conversing loudly – some laughing, some throwing out curses Michael was forbidden to use – female servers with three large jugs of beer in each hand, humoring any customer that tipped or complemented them enough, and there was the smell of stale eggs, sausages, and potatoes, which, Michael supposed, he would find just as delicious as everyone else seemed to if he was just as drunk.

Michael scanned the room, his heart hammering against his chest. If Wyatt didn’t come, and had played a cruel joke on him, he would have risked eternal punishment for nothing. He was just starting to wonder what excuse to give his mother for his exceptionally long bathroom visit when –

“Michael!” he heard and saw a boy, much taller than he was, waving over the heads of the other customers from where he sat at a small table in the corner. He was a scruffy young man, his hair and clothes always a mess, despite his family’s fortune, and he was a good few years older than Michael. He had a twinkle in his eye that suggested mischief, a wicked grin that assured no good, and a full jug of beer always in hand. Michael sat across from him. He was just as he had been the last time Michael had seen him, the previous year.

“You really showed up,” Wyatt cackled. He was obviously already very drunk. Michael wondered how long he’d been waiting here, drinking. “For a minute there, I didn’t think you’d have the nerve, mate.”

“And spend the rest of my first night in London listening to Bach and Eleanor Prissley talk about dresses?” Michael joked, raising a hand to gesture one of the servers over. “Do I look crazy to you?”

“No, you certainly do not,” Wyatt said. “A shame, really. Especially considering…”

“Considering what?”

Wyatt leaned forward in his seat, his smile widening. “Considering what I’ve found.”

Michael hesitated. Wyatt was the kind of fellow you would have a drink with, someone you wanted along if you were bored out of your mind, someone you caused havoc with one night and regretted it the next morning, but he was not someone Michael found completely sane most times. Sometimes, Wyatt frightened Michael just a bit.

Regardless, he smiled. “What do you mean?”

“What’ll it be, love?” the woman said with a slight giggle, her hands on her wide hips. She smiled at Michael, her makeup smudged, and her hair tousled. Michael suspected she was drunk as well.

“Just the tab,” Wyatt said before Michael could let a word out.

Once the woman was out of earshot, Wyatt took one last big gulp from his jug and stood, wiping his mouth and smiling wildly at Michael. “Come on. We’re not wasting time here.”

For a long moment, Michael was certain that Wyatt was aimlessly wandering the town, looking for what wasn’t there.

“Wyatt,” he tried once again, “come on, mate, let’s head back.”

“Don’t worry, Harrington,” Wyatt said, still laughing. “I’m trying to give you a gift here, where’s the gratitude?”

Michael felt unsettled. Wyatt in a pub was easy to control, Wyatt loose on the streets was another matter entirely. He hurried in his steps to catch up to his older friend.

“I’d really rather we just return,” he said. “Come on, the next round’s on me.”

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss,” Wyatt said. “There, see?”

To Michael’s immense relief, he saw that Wyatt had led them to his house. Michael remembered coming here once before last year, and back then, the worst that had happened was that he and Wyatt had tried to concoct their own, original alcoholic drinks and ended up passed out on the dining room floor. He could feel a smile return to his lips as he helped a staggering Wyatt into the house. This was good, Wyatt could be trusted to behave in closed quarters. Perhaps this night would not be such a waste after all.

Once they were inside, Wyatt rummaged around for a candle, and Michael offered to look for one instead. He lit one, and Wyatt winced at the sudden light.

“Where are you parents?” Michael asked. “Might we be expecting them soon?”

“Not really,” Wyatt said, taking the candle from Michael and leading him across the house. “They’ve gone to visit grandmother for the next few days. She’s quite ill, you see.”

Michael frowned. Wyatt did not seem particularly bothered by this.

“Sorry, mate,” Michael said anyway.

Wyatt shrugged a shoulder. “She’s old. Hurry along, will you? Trust me, you’ll want to see this.”

Michael followed Wyatt down to his family’s wine cellar. As he descended the stairs, he could’ve sworn he heard the sound of rattling chains. He froze, and Wyatt, having noticed, waved him along, laughing, “Yeah, I know. Come on.”

Michael hesitated, then did as he was told. At first, Michael thought Wyatt was trying to show him a special bottle of wine his family had acquired, perhaps something imported, but they kept walking past the shelves of bottles.

As they reached the end of the cellar, the light of the candle illuminating anything close by, a man suddenly came into view. Michael’s eyes widened.

The man wore a brown vest and pants with a white loose shirt underneath, torn and covered in dirt, his dark hair was a mess, as if it had been pulled roughly, he had cuts and bruises all along his face and arms, his dark eyes moved defiantly from Wyatt and Michael, his chin raised, but Michael could see him subtly move further back against the wall to which – he now noticed with horror – he was chained to by his wrists.

“What… what is this?” Michael stammered, unable to take his eyes off the man. “What have you done?”

Wyatt chuckled, and clasped Michael’s shoulder. “I, my friend, have captured a sorcerer. A real Witchling.”

Michael stared. “What? Wyatt, you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, so?” Wyatt laughed and kneeled down beside the man. He played with a strand of his hair, and the man tried to pull back from his touch, but the chains prevented him from moving too much. “I found him picking flowers in the forest two days ago, using his magic on the plants.” He tilted his head at the man, looking him up and down. “Bet you thought no one was watching, eh?”

“Two days?” Michael frowned at Wyatt touching him. He seemed very uncomfortable by it. “You’ve… you’ve had him trapped in here for two days? You’re joking.”

“Nah,” he laughed. “Trick is to bind their wrists. They can’t do magic if they can’t use their hands. My dad taught me that years ago!”

When he was responded with silence, Wyatt looked up at Michael’s face for the first time since coming down, his brow raised. “What’s wrong with you? It’s not as if he’s human. He’s a thing, Michael. And because I’m such a good mentor, I’ve giving him to you. For a night, of course.”

Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled Wyatt up to his feet, mostly to keep him away from the man. This all felt so wrong. “What do you mean, a night?”

Wyatt stared at the man, licking his lips, then he leaned in and said in a voice none too quiet, “He’s gonna make you a man, mate. Get you up and going.”

The chains rattled again as the stranger moved further back into the wall. He looked furiously from Michael to Wyatt, then he shook against his chains and said, “I only pity your soul, vile mortal. How you’ve abused it so.”

“Yeah?” Wyatt pulled his head back by his hair. “Least I’ve got one.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Go on, mate,” he hit Michael’s back. “He’s all yours. Make him scream for me, will you?”

The man’s wary eyes were on Michael. Realization dawned, and he stepped back from Wyatt.

“You want me to rape him?”

“It’s not rape if it’s a Witchling,” Wyatt rolled his eyes. “These creatures don’t have feelings, you know.” He scoffed. “Everyone knows that.”

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” Michael said, raising his voice, then he put a hand on Wyatt’s arm. “Come on, mate, this is insane! It’s inhuman – you’re better than this!”

Wyatt’s eyes darkened, and he roughly shoved Michael’s hand off. “What’s got you so bothered? I’ve been saving him ‘specially for you; are you taking him or not?”

Michael shook his head. He knew Wyatt was a little crazy sometimes, and even more so when he was drunk, but this was the craziest he’d ever seen him. He glanced at the stranger, saw him watching them with furrowed brows. His wrists were dark purple and scratched from where the chains held him.

Michael knew he should’ve felt something more of fear. After all, he was in the presence of an otherworldly creature, a Witchling. But as the man’s eyes landed on his, he felt another emotion entirely. This was so very wrong. His fists clenched.

“You’re mad,” he said disapprovingly at Wyatt before grabbing the chain binding the man to the wall. He yanked on the chain once before he was roughly pulled back onto the hard, concrete ground.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Wyatt yelled. “He’s a sorcerer. D’you have any idea what he can do to us if his hands are free?”

Michael stood and glared at Wyatt, his jaw clenched. “Then maybe you should get on your knees and apologize. You can do it after I get him out of these chains.”

Wyatt gripped the front of his coat tightly. “Or maybe you should just go back to your big Harrington estate, coward. Right where you belong.” He shoved Michael back and scoffed. Michael didn’t think he was sobering up. If anything, he looked more and more intoxicated with every second.

Wyatt glared down at Michael and scoffed. For a brief moment, he reminded Michael of one of the Prissley members. “Run back to mummy and daddy, little boy. I’m not a caretaker to look after a child.”

Michael dusted off his coat, straightening it. He glanced at the stranger. “Call me whatever you want, but I’m not leaving without him.”

“That’s it,” Wyatt said, shoving him back once more. “Get out. Get out now!”

Michael shook his head at him. “I don’t know what’s happened to you to make you like this, but if you can’t stop yourself from doing anything you’ll later regret, then I’ll stop you myself.”

Michael jammed his shoulder into Wyatt’s chest, pushing as hard as he can. Normally, Wyatt would’ve been strong enough to avoid the hit. Now, however, in his drunken state, he flew backwards into one of the wine shelves and fell to the ground along with several of the bottles.

Michael took his chance and grabbed a long piece of broken glass.

“S’cuse me,” he muttered, unable to help but feel embarrassed as he held the man’s wrist with one hand, his skin like ice, his other trying to fit the glass into the keyhole, twisting and turning it.

“You’re hurting yourself,” he said, frowning, his muscles tightening under Michael’s grip. He was breathing very quickly. “Stop, it won’t work anyway!”

“It’ll work,” he said, surprised he could say anything at all. “Hang on.”

Just as Michael heard a click in the lock, the man screamed, “Look out!”

He barely had time to look over his shoulder before Wyatt jumped on his back, sending them both tumbling across the floor.

He and Wyatt wrestled, Wyatt’s yells becoming more and more incoherent as he scratched and bit and punched.

“Wyatt, stop! STOP!” Michael tried, but Wyatt’s animal-like screams were above his own. He managed to pull Wyatt’s hands away for a minute before Wyatt overpowered him, and his hands were on Michael’s throat.

“Stop it!” he heard the man yell. “You’re going to kill him, STOP IT!”

But Wyatt did not stop. His grip on Michael’s neck only turned tighter. Michael choked and gasped, trying aimlessly to push Wyatt off.

Michael’s vision began to blur, and he was sure he was going to die. Then there was the sound of rattling chains, a scream, and the weight on his neck was gone. Michael gasped hungrily for breath, struggling to lift his head.

“Boy,” he heard a faint voice call to him. “Can… can you hear me? Are you alright?”

Michael blinked, and forced himself up. The voice was coming from the sorcerer. He was lying on the ground, his free hand outstretched towards Michael, apparently struggling to move himself.

“Y-Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. He looked around and found Wyatt lying against the wall behind him. He felt his heart jump and he leapt away, staring at the drunk. “What happened to him?”

“Is he alive?” the man asked. He didn’t sound particularly excited at the prospect. He didn’t seem anything but tired.

Michael hesitated, then leaned down. A second later, he pulled back, eager to get as far away from the drunk bastard that almost killed him as he could get. “Yeah, he’s breathing.”

The man didn’t respond, and Michael took the chance to get a good look at him. His eyes were fluttering, as if he was having hard time staying awake. His breaths were now coming out long and slow, and despite Michael’s eyes on him, he didn’t move an inch. Michael doubted he could.

“Are you alright?” he asked, then mentally scolded himself. Of course he wasn’t alright. “What’s happened?”

The man looked up at him lazily, and he seemed to hesitate before he said, “My magic… it’s exhaustive. I need a moment.”

Michael looked over his shoulder at the knocked-out Wyatt and frowned. “Sorry, but I don’t think we have a moment,” he said as he grabbed another shard of glass off the floor and moved to unlock the stranger’s second chain.

He weakly objected, but Michael kept pressing the shard until the lock clicked open. He stepped back as soon as the stranger’s free hand fell to the floor. The shard dropped from his hand, his skin cut, and he swallowed. He was now in the presence of a sorcerer, free to use his magic as he pleased. Could Wyatt have been right? Could he really decide to kill him? But it wasn’t as if he could’ve left him locked in here. He’d done the right thing, hadn’t he? And the sorcerer had saved him. He wouldn’t hurt him now, of course he wouldn’t.

But the longer Michael looked at him, the more he realized this man was incapable of doing anything, let alone hurting him.

“We have to get out of here,” he tried. “Can you stand?”

The man did not answer. He slowly pushed himself up to his feet, his shallow breathing an indication of his struggle, and as soon as he was up, he nearly fell down again. And he would’ve, had Michael not caught him immediately.

He couldn’t have been older than twenty-eight, maybe even twenty-five, and yet he was no taller than Michael. He was freezing against Michael, his entire body trembling, his head on Michael’s shoulder. He felt weighed down. He wondered just how much energy it took a sorcerer to use his magic. He noticed Wyatt stir ever so slightly, and swallowed down his embarrassment before bending down to pick the stranger up. He seemed surprised, but too exhausted to argue as Michael carried him out of the house.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, and his fingers tightened in Michael’s shirt for a split second before he began to squirm in his hold.

“Alright, hang on,” he said, setting him down gently on the side of the road where the grass grew. He looked around at the dark street, uncomfortable. He wished he could’ve set him somewhere else, somewhere where other drunk men weren’t prone to spotting him. He doubted they would’ve cared whether or not he was a sorcerer. Even by men’s standards, the stranger was gorgeous. His soft skin, rosy cheeks and lips, and his long lashes – they all made him infinitely more beautiful than any woman Michael had ever seen. He blinked, realizing where his train of thought was going, and shook himself out of it.

He was just about to suggest they move somewhere else, but the man was already stumbling away. Michael silently followed behind, unable to do anything else. The man moved past the roads and the houses towards what looked like an abandoned park.

He tripped and fell, and right away, Michael was crouching at his side, offering him his hand. The man glanced at it, then looked away. He tried to stand again, but failed.

“Please,” Michael said. “At least lean against me. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

The stranger stared at him, then his brows furrowed. He was confused. “Why are you doing this?” he asked. “Do I not frighten you?”

Michael thought about it, then he answered honestly, “I don’t think so.”

The stranger was surprised, as if Michael was a creature he’d never seen before. Or, at least, one he’d believed had gone extinct.

“Do you have a name?” he asked, then blushed at the stranger’s curious eyes. “Of course you do, I knew that, I know you do, what I meant was… what is it?”

“You want to know my name?” he said, his eyes widening, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. Michael felt inexplicably pleased to be responsible for such a reaction. “Really?”

Michael cleared his throat and looked away, unable to hold the man’s stare. “Sure, why not? I’m Michael, by the way. Michael Harrington.” He kicked a pebble. “Thought it was only fair, you knowing my name as well.”

“Alex,” he said, taking his hand. He was smiling softly, a sight Michael found he did not mind. “My name is Alex. Um, Michael… if you don’t mind,” his hand tightened in his, and Michael realized he was trying to stand again, “I think I’d like to accept your offer for a hand up, if it still stands, that is.”

Michael helped Alex to his feet, and he walked with half of his weight pressed against him.

“Careful,” he’d say every so often as Alex nearly tripped. “There you go.”

“I thank you for this,” he said. “You did not need to help me.”

Michael frowned. “Of course, I did. I couldn’t very well just abandon you, could I?”

Alex glanced at him, a small smile at his lips. “I am sorry to not have made your acquaintance in different circumstances, Michael.”

Michael nodded. “So am I, Alex.”

“Here,” he said, stopping in front of a large hollow tree. He released his arm from around Michael’s shoulders, but Michael kept his arms up, ready to catch her. “This is the place.”

Michael looked around. “The place for what?”

He raised a brow at him. “You have never known another of my kind, have you?”

Michael blushed. He felt like a child. “Why assume so?”

Alex smiled like the answer was obvious. He brought his thumb to his teeth, and bit hard into his skin. He winced, drawing blood.

“Why would you—” Michael tried, but Alex suddenly put his hand on the tree, and said, “Watch.”

Alex closed his eyes, appearing to be in deep focus. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Alex’s hand emitted a small ball of white and golden light, and soon, the entire tree was shimmering. Michael only now noticed how quiet their surroundings had become, the only sound being the strengthening wind on the tree branches.

“A-Alex?”

But Alex did not respond. Soon, there was what looked to be a crack of light in the tree, and it kept opening and spreading until it was large enough to fit both Alex and Michael through. It’s a portal! Michael thought. He quickly realized that there was someone on the other side, coming through. His heart raced as the approaching figure stepped into the moonlight, which seemed to have grown brighter with their presence.

She was a tall woman, her dark eyes sharp, her brown skin turned to silver against the moonlight. She looked like she could raze Michael’s house to the ground with one blow. Michael guessed she was even older than Alex. She had a permanent frown etched into her face, and there were black markings all over her body – runes he couldn’t identify. Her left eye, which was a pale blue, had a deep scar piercing through it, but when her gaze caught Alex, it softened instantly.

“Alex,” she said before she pulled Alex to her chest.

“Maria, I’m sorry,” Alex said, his voice cracking. He was crying. “I’m sorry.”

“I have been searching for you for days,” Maria said angrily, and pulled back. Her hands tightened on his shoulders. “Where have you been?”

Michael thought Alex would tell her the truth, and for a brief moment, he wondered what someone like this Maria woman would do to someone like Wyatt. He shuddered at the possibility.

However, Alex simply shook his head, “I lost my way. Maria, I shouldn’t have wandered off. If it hadn’t been for Michael, I don’t know what I would’ve—”

“Michael?” Maria said, and only then noticed Michael standing there. Michael felt small under Maria’s gaze, and he stepped back. After a moment, Maria nodded, her expression serious. “Yes, I see.”

Michael swallowed back the lump in his throat, unable to say anything. After what felt like an eternity of being held captive by Maria, the woman finally returned her attention to Alex. “Alex, we must go now.”

Alex nodded without a moment’s hesitation, and gripped Maria’s hand with his. He seemed to gain strength from being at her side. They both turned towards the portal, and Alex looked over his shoulder at Michael.

“Thank you, Michael,” he said, “for your help.”

You’re welcome, Michael wanted to say. Where are you going? Will I ever see you again? Is there any way of reaching you?

Instead, what he said was—

“You already said that.”

Alex huffed a chuckle. “Right.”

And without another word, he and his friend both stepped through the opening in the tree, and vanished. The tree slowly returned to its original state, as if there had never been a portal at all. The moonlight dimmed down, and Michael was left standing in the silence, alone.

Still, as he took the empty road back home, he found himself pleased. He could not think of Wyatt, or what would happen once he realized Alex had escaped, nor did he think about Maria who had stared at him with the strangest look he’d ever seen, as if she had been having a silent debate with herself over Michael’s worth.

The only person Michael could think of was Alex, wondering what he would say to him when he saw him again, and when that would be. He recalled what his father had said about the Witchlings, the way his aunt had seemed nervous about the prospect of their existence, the way his mother had spoken of them as if they were the most stomach-churning beings to ever exist, imaginary or not.

And all the while, he couldn’t help but think that Alex, despite what everyone had said of his kind, had been quite nice.

Continue reading completed version on ao3.

This story was edited by @insidious-intent. Without you, I would never have been able to post this. Thanks for pushing me to have the courage, even if you didn’t know you were doing it.

***

I can’t believe this story is finally up! When I had asked for a beta, I hadn’t thought I would actually go through with editing. I was scared. A few times in the beginning, I had almost canceled the whole thing because I didn’t know if I was ready to have something longer out yet. But the truth is, I enjoyed having conversations about this story with my beta, Ess Cee, so much that I found myself more and more excited to see this tale posted, to see what others have to say. I’ve never had an editor before, but I am eternally grateful that my first one was so wonderful. I hope we can continue working together in the future 💛

All I can say now is that I hope this story brings a smile to your day, whoever-is-reading-this-right-now 😂 I hope it makes you feel things, I hope it brings you some light, and most of all, I hope that - in some small way, at least - it can encourage you to pursue whatever storytelling dreams you may have. Sorry for dragging on and being sappy, but I’m just filled with so much love right now for everything this story has given me. Now I’ll stop babbling and leave you to your reading ❤

#malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex one-shot #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #malex au #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #gay #magic #love

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seekfirstme · 4 years ago

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Meditation: What is the greatest act of love which one can give for the sake of another? Jesus defines friendship - the mutual bond of trust and affection which people choose to have for one another - as the willingness to give totally of oneself - even to the point of laying down one's life for a friend. How is such love possible or even desirable? God made us in love for love. That is our reason for being, our purpose for living, and our goal in dying.

Scripture tells us that God is love (1 John 4:8) - and everything he does flows from his immense love for us. He loved us so much - far beyond what we could ever expect or deserve - that he was willing to pay any price to redeem us from our slavery to sin and death. That is why the Father sent us his beloved Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave up his life as the atoning sacrifice for our sins. In this great exchange - the Father giving up his Son to death on the cross in order to give us abundant everlasting life and adopt us as his beloved sons and daughters in Christ (Romans 8:14-17).

God has poured his love into our hearts

It is for this reason that we can take hold of a hope that does not fade and a joy that does not diminish because God has poured his love into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (Romans 5:5). God's love is not limited or subject to changing circumstances. It is an enduring love that has power to change and transform us to be like him - merciful, gracious, kind, forgiving, and steadfast in showing love not only for our friends, but for our enemies as well. God's love is boundless because he is the source of abundant life, perfect peace, and immeasurable joy for all who open their hearts to him. That is why Jesus came to give us abundant life through the gift and working of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus gave his disciples a new commandment - a new way of loving and serving one another. Jesus' love was wholly directed toward the good of others. He loved them for their sake and for their welfare. That is why he willingly laid down his own life for us to free us from sin, death, fear, and everything that could separate us from the love of God. Our love for God and our willingness to lay down our life for others is a response to the exceeding love God has given us in Christ. Paul the Apostle states,

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?... For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:35,38-39).

Friendship with God

Jesus calls his disciples his personal friends. Jesus not only showed his disciples that he personally cared for them and sought their welfare. He personally enjoyed their company and wanted to be with them in a close and intimate relationship. He ate with them, shared everything he had with them - even his innermost heart and thoughts. And he spent himself in doing as much good for them as he could. To know Jesus personally is to know God and the love and friendship he offers to each one of us.

One of the special marks of favor shown in the Scriptures is to be called the friend of God. Abraham is called the friend of God (Isaiah 41:8, James 2:23). God spoke with Moses as a man speaks with his friend (Exodus 33:11). Jesus, the Lord and Master, calls the disciples his friends rather than his servants.

What does it mean to be a friend of God? Friendship with God who is our everlasting Father and with his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ entails a personal, close, and loving relationship and a union of heart, mind, and spirit with the One who created us in love for love. Such a relationship with our Father, Creator, and Redeemer involves loyalty, respect, and obedience. But it is even more than these because God has chosen to love us in the same way in which the Father and the Son love and serve each other - a total giving of oneself to the other in a bond of affection, esteem, and joy in each others company.

Jesus' discourse on friendship and brotherly love echoes the words of Proverbs: A friend loves at all times; and a brother is born for adversity (Proverbs 17:17). The distinctive feature of Jesus' relationship with his disciples was his personal, loyal, and sacrificial love for each one of them. He loved his own to the end (John 13:1). His love was unconditional and wholly directed to the good of others. His love was costly and sacrificial. He gave the best he had and all that he had. He gave his very own life for those he loved in order to secure for them an everlasting life of union and love with the Father in heaven.

Love to the death

The Lord Jesus gives his followers a new commandment - a new way of love that goes beyond giving only what is required or what we think others might deserve. What is the essence of Jesus' new commandment of love? It is a love to the death - a purifying love that overcomes selfishness, fear, and pride. It is a total giving of oneself for the sake of others - a selfless and self-giving love that is oriented towards putting the welfare of others ahead of myself.

Jesus says that there is no greater proof in love than the sacrifice of one's life for the sake of another. Jesus proved his love by giving his life for us on the cross of Calvary. Through the shedding of his blood for our sake, our sins are not only washed clean, but new life is poured out for us through the gift of the Holy Spirit. We prove our love for God and for one another when we embrace the way of the cross. What is the cross in my life? When my will crosses with God's will, then God's will must be done. Do you know the peace and joy of a life fully surrendered to God and consumed with his love?

Love that produces abundant fruit and joy

The Lord Jesus tells us that he is our personal friend and he loves us wholeheartedly and unconditionally. He wants us to love one another just as he has loved us, wholeheartedly, without reserve, and full of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness. His love fills our hearts and transforms our minds and frees us to give ourselves in loving service to others. If we open our hearts to his love and obey his command to love our neighbor, then we will know his love more fully and we will bear much fruit - especially the fruit of peace, joy, patience, kindness, and goodness - the kind of fruit that lasts for eternity. Do you wish to be fruitful and to abound in the love of God? Trust and obey him and he will fill you with his overflowing love.

"Teach us, good Lord, to serve you as you deserve, to give and not to count the cost, to fight and not to heed the wounds, to toil and not to seek for rest, to labor and not to ask for any reward, save that of knowing that we do your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. (Prayer of Ignatius Loyola) "

VOLUNTARY SLAVERY

“I no longer speak of you as slaves.” —John 15:15

Jesus calls us, His disciples, “slaves.” Later, He may call us “friends.” To be a friend of Jesus, we must first be His slave. To know what Jesus is doing, we must first obey without knowing what He is doing (Jn 15:15). To be aware of Jesus as Love (1 Jn 4:16), we must first know Him as Lord. God’s Word commands us to “be slaves of Christ the Lord” (Col 3:24).

The idea of being anyone’s slave is disturbing to us. We want to keep our independence. However, there is no such thing as our independence. This is a self-deception. “You must realize that, when you offer yourselves to someone as obedient slaves, you are the slaves of the one you obey, whether yours is the slavery of sin, which leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to justice” (Rm 6:16). We are automatically slaves to someone or something. The only question is: “Whose slave will we be?”

To be the slave of Jesus means to no longer have a life of our own (see Gal 2:20), but to let ourselves be consumed by the living God (see Heb 12:29). To be a slave of Jesus is a privilege and the highest honor a human being can attain. Jesus, as Master, protects, provides for, and deeply loves us, His slaves. Jesus “emptied Himself and took the form of a slave” for love of us (Phil 2:7). Will you empty yourself and be His slave for love of Him?

Prayer: Jesus, I am created to be Your slave. I will only be freed and fulfilled as Your slave. I choose You as Lord. I choose to be Your slave.

Promise: “It is the decision of the Holy Spirit, and ours too, not to lay on you any burden beyond that which is strictly necessary.” —Acts 15:28

Praise: As a husband, father and care-giver son, Alfred has grown more dependent on God. He says often: “As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord” (Jos 24:15).

Reference: (For a related teaching on Developing a Deep, Personal Relationship with Jesus, order, listen to, or download our CD 52-1 or DVD 52 on our website.)

Rescript: "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for One Bread, One Body covering the period from April 1,2021 through May 31, 2021 Reverend Steve J. Angi, Chancellor, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio August 5,2020"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

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abbygkane · 8 years ago

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I have far more heart than you my lord, for you have none (1/?)

Summary: Northern England 1874 - Baroness Abigail Griffin, the widow of the late Baron Jacob Griffin, receives four years after her husband's death an alarming letter. His Lord the Duke of Eden and newly retired captain of the Royal Navy, Marcus Kane, has returned to Sunderland and he has grand plans for the school the Baroness runs, namely remodelling the building into separate apartments.

Threatened with the prospect of losing her mother's legacy, Abigail sees no other option than to travel to Eden and demand an audience with the cold-hearted yet handsome Duke.

Will the baroness succeed in her mission or will she end up losing the last thing she has of her mother? It's a tale of heartache, family, unlikely friendships and turbulent romance.

AKA an AU Kabby period drama inspired by the Brontë sisters you never knew you wanted until now ^^

Also special thanks to Romana @catalan1 for proofreading this ♡ ♡

For six years, the Baron and Baroness Griffin, together with their little girl Clarke, had been a happy and loving family. Thanks to the Baroness’ many talents, she had managed to transform the Griffin estate, Arkadia Park, into a warm and inviting family home. The parents doted on their daughter, a cheerful child with golden curls, a pair of bright blue eyes that were almost an identical copy of her father’s, and a smile, which the Baroness teasingly described to her husband, as one that would surely break more than one young man’s heart when she grew up.

Life had been good at Arkadia Park. There wasn’t a day that passed without laughter and the servants blessed themselves on being so fortunate in working for a family that obviously loved each other and who were genuinely interested in the well-being of all those who lived and worked on the estate. The Baron often travelled abroad for business purposes, but he always quickly returned and never without a gift for his two favourite women in the whole world.

Whatever did the Baroness do while her husband was away you ask? If she had been more like her other female acquaintances, she would have spent her days inviting people for tea, or going from brunch to soirées, while letting a governess raise her daughter. But, dear reader, as you’ll quickly discover, Baroness Abigail Griffin wasn’t your typical Baroness. No, instead of carelessly squandering time, she played an active role in the upbringing of her daughter while being in charge of the small town school, making her the recipient of more than one sneering jab by several members of Sunderland’s aristocracy.

For you see, Baroness Abigail Griffin, née Abigail Walters, daughter of Thomas Walters, the local doctor, and Elizabeth Walters, a schoolteacher, didn’t grow up among the aristocracy. Her parents owned a modest townhouse not far from her father’s medical practice and the school where her mother both taught and was headmistress. As a child, she would sometimes accompany her father during his rounds, learning how to use a stethoscope, or helping her mother in the classroom, which is where Abigail discovered her love for teaching. So it wasn’t a total surprise to her parents when she told them she wanted to become a teacher as well.

When her mother passed away only a year after she had become Baroness Griffin, Abigail had used her husband’s connections to buy the school in order to make sure that the local children still had a place to learn. Jacob Griffin had wholeheartedly supported his wife’s decision her compassion for others had been one of the things that made him fall in love with her in the first place. Unfortunately, other members of Sunderland’s riches were less pleased, both with her marriage with Jacob and the notion of a Baroness actually working. But Abigail brushed off any remarks with ease. The knowledge that she was teaching children how to read and write was of greater importance to her than being invited to a formal dinner party.

The Griffin’s couldn’t have been happier and they were extremely grateful for the life they had.

Unfortunately that all changed on that fateful Thursday evening in April, in the year 1870. The Baroness remembers rising from her bed that morning with an uneasy feeling in her stomach. A feeling that had stuck with her for the entirety of the day. It had been some time after dinner when Miss Cartwig, her housekeeper, had come into Clarke’s bedroom where the Baroness had been reading her daughter a story, informing her mistress of a visitor. The Baroness had taken one glance at the pale face of her housekeeper and she had realised that something terrible must have happened. Leaving her daughter behind in the capable hands of Miss Reyes, she had followed Miss Cartwig into the drawing room where Mr. Collins, her husband’s business associate, had informed her that the boat Jacob had been on had been caught unaware by a storm before sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean and unfortunately there had been no survivors.

Abigail doesn’t remember much from that night. Only a feeling of complete numbness and shock. After thanking Mr. Collins for coming over so late and notifying her, she had politely dismissed him before walking back towards her daughter’s room where she had fallen asleep on the bed, her arms wrapped around Clarke, tears rolling down her cheeks and body wracking with sobs.

Going on with her life without her husband had been hard, but the Baroness never gave up. She still had Clarke, her little girl who was more and more turning into the spitting image of her father, a fact that eased the Baroness’ sorrow. At least a part of Jacob would forever live on through their daughter. Having no knowledge of trade and business, she had sold her husband’s share of the company he had owned with Mr. Collins. The sum of money she had received for it had been substantial and secured both her and her daughter’s future, well as enabling her to keep all of her servants.

The school, regrettably, had been registered under her husband’s name, and with his death there was a possibility she could lose it to another buyer. Luckily the Duchess of Eden, Vera Kane, who had always had a soft spot for both Abigail and Clarke, had offered for her son to officially buy the building, with Abigail remaining in full control of everything. It had been an offer the Baroness had gratefully accepted and she would never forget the Duchess’ kindness.

So the years passed at Arkadia Park, the inhabitants of the house all carrying on with their lives, but life at the mansion wasn't the same. Even though the Baroness still remained the same caring and affectionate woman, everybody could see that the sparkle in her eyes was less bright than it had used to be.

And I can hear you think, dear reader, surely the Baroness has suffered enough already? There must be some form of a happy ending for her. And I can assure you that there most definitely is. Unfortunately, the Baroness is going to have to struggle through some hard times and changes first. Changes that all start with the arrival of a certain letter.

A gentle knock on the door of her late husband’s study room, where Abigail had been studying documents and going over bills for the school, pulls her attention from the paperwork.

“Come in,”

With a warm smile, she watches Miss Cartwig entering the room with a bundle of letters in her grasp.

“Ma’am, your mail,”

“Ah yes, thank you Miss Cartwig. You may leave it on my desk,” she kindly replies, before returning her attention to the papers in front of her.

From the corner of her eye, she watches how the letters are placed on the desk, but to the Baroness’ surprise her housekeeper doesn’t leave the room, but rather lingers while standing next to the desk.

Brow furrowed, the Baroness raises her gaze and takes in the rather nervous disposition of Miss Cartwig. Which is unusual because the woman is normally the epitome of calmness.

“Yes? Was there anything else you needed?,” she politely inquires.

“Oh no, ma’am. Everything is in order”, her housekeeper rushes to reassure her.

“Are you sure Miss Cartwig? Because you’re still standing next to my desk and I’m sure if you keep doing that, you’re going to ruin your dress,” the Baroness dryly comments, and she’s unable to suppress a small smile when the other woman promptly releases the fabric she’s been subconsciously twisting between her fingers.

“It’s just - I didn’t mean to pry ma’am, but when I accepted the letters from the carrier I couldn’t help but notice that there’s a letter from his Lord the Duke of Eden,” Miss Cartwig explains.

At that the Baroness raises an eyebrow, eyeing the letters with renewed interest. “The Duke? To my knowledge, he is still in America.”

“Apparently he arrived home a week ago. Or at least that’s what Mr. Sinclair has heard during his trip to town this morning.”

“A week? And how come I haven’t been informed of this?,” the Baroness questions, wracking her brain to the last conversation she had with the Duke’s mother, Vera Kane, more than a week ago. The woman hadn’t mentioned that her son was returning home, and the Duchess wasn’t the kind of woman to forget to mention something as important as that.

“I don’t know, ma’am. It seems that his return was a bit of a surprise to his own home as well. Allegedly the Duchess nearly fainted when her son turned up after being away for nearly four years.”

Concern for the older and kind woman colors her expression. “Is she alright? Was a doctor called?”

Taking notice of the note of worry in her mistress’ voice, Miss Cartwig gives the Baroness a comforting nod, “Oh yes, ma’am. She was only a bit shaken. Especially when he informed her that he had taken two children, under his guardianship.”

“Children?,” the Baroness can’t help but loudly exclaim, a certain degree of disbelief clear in her tone while abruptly rising from her seat.

The notion that the stoic and pragmatic Duke would willingly take children under his guard baffles her mind. What on earth had possessed him to do so?

Realising that she’s standing behind her desk with some papers still clutched in her hands, and most certainly looking slightly absurd, the Baroness clears her throat and quietly settles down into her chair.

“Children you say?,” she softly repeats.

“Yes ma’am”

“Where did you get all of this information?,” the Baroness inquires.

“Mr Sinclair heard it from Mr. Shumway. Apparently Lady Sydney hadn’t been able to talk about anything else than the return of the Duke,” Miss Cartwig informs her with a small smirk

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I’m sure that Lady Sydney already has fabricated a reason for her to visit the Duchess at Manor Eden in order to coincidentally come across the Duke,” the Baroness murmurs conspiratorially with a twinkle in her eyes.

It’s a well-known fact in their town that Lady Diana Sydney had a certain interest in the Duke or rather his fortune. So far the Duke has never returned any of Diana’s advances which she took as a sign that there still was some hope.

Ridiculous woman

“Yes, well, thank you Miss Cartwig. I’ll read the letter right away,” the Baroness states after a couple of seconds, making clear that she would like to be left alone.

Abigail stares at the bundle of letters lying in the corner of the desk. She can’t help but feel a sense of trepidation. Nothing good has ever come from a letter from our esteemed Duke of Eden. Or any encounter she has ever had with the man for that fact. The Duke had the exceptional capability of being able to get under her skin and aggravating her in mere seconds. Whatever affection she felt for the Duchess, that courtesy didn’t extend to her son.

No, she and the Duke didn’t get along at all. Their last encounter had been a prime example of it. Thinking back to the last time she had laid eyes upon the Duke and remembering the things he had said, at her husband’s funeral, was enough to make her blood boil once more.

He had the impertinence to imply that she wasn’t suited to run a school since she was merely a teacher. And to add insult he also inquired if she would be able to keep up with the monthly payments for the school. Did she even know how to deal with money? The Duke didn’t add the because you’re not used to having such money since you married into the aristocracy, but it was heavily implied in his condescending tone. Her emotions had been running high that day and he had managed to rile her up so much that she had basically thrown him out of her home. She can still see the look of absolute shock on his face. Because nobody even dreamed of addressing him so disrespectfully, but Abigail had just buried an empty casket because her husband’s body hadn’t been found among the wreckage of the ship and her patience was running low. So she had ordered him to leave her house, which he had done without another word. Two days later his mother had informed her that had left with the Royal Navy.

Honestly, to this day Abigail can’t understand how someone as kind and friendly as her late husband ended up being friends with someone like Duke Marcus Kane.

But now the Duke was back and the Baroness was dreading whatever was in the letter. Perhaps the letter was merely an invitation to dinner. Not that the Duke was particularly set on maintaining his social relationships, but the Baroness knows that his mother would have insisted on it.

With her heart slightly pounding in her chest, the Baroness picks up the mail and sifts through them until she sees her name written in that unmistakable cursive handwriting. Taking a deep breath, she breaks the seal and her eyes flicker across the paper.

Dear Lady Griffin

I do hope that both you and your daughter are well.

I’m sure you have already heard about my unannounced return to Sunderland. With my return to the country, I’m also once more taking up my responsibilities as Duke. My mother has informed me of the arrangement she had made with you concerning the payments of the school in my absence.

Unfortunately, I can not condone this arrangement. I know from experience that my mother is a very caring and giving person and in some cases a bit too caring. I would hate for her to be taken advantage of.

Let me be clear, I’m not suggesting that you are purposely taking advantage of her kind nature, but even you can’t deny that my mother’s fondness of both you and your daughter might have clouded her judgement and resulted in her being extremely lenient towards you.

During my stay in America I got a visit from out mutual acquaintance, the Earl of Mt. Weather, Lord Wallace and he has expressed an interest in the Elizabeth Walters school, namely in the building. He has made me an offer I can’t refuse and I’ve decided to sell the building to the Earl.

Now I realise that this is all sudden and I do apologise, but my decision has been made. Earl Wallace’s project is in the best interest of the town and I’m sure you’ll find another building for your little school.

Taking into consideration the short notice, I’m giving you until the end of March to move out of the building, so that gives you eight weeks the time, which should be sufficient.

Sincerely

His Lord the Duke of Eden, Marcus Kane

The Baroness sits upright in her chair, while wordlessly staring at the piece of paper in front of her. Her eyes skim the letter once more and now the numbness makes way for indignation.

How dare he?

Throwing the paper on the desk, she quickly rises from her seat before agitatedly crossing the length of the room, the skirt of her dress rustling over the floor.

The sound of laughter catches her attention and the Baroness turns her gaze towards the window, which looks out over the garden. With one of her hands pressed against her chest, Abigail watches how Clarke, her precious daughter, is chased by her lady's maid, Miss Reyes. All thoughts of the school and the Duke leave her mind as she observes with a tender smile how carefree and lively Clarke is. After her husband’s death, her daughter and the school had been the only two things that made her get up in the morning.

Losing the school was not an option. Not if she had a say in it. That pompous man could say whatever he wanted, she was not giving up her mother’s school. Coming to a decision, she purposely strides towards the door and calls out Miss Cartwig.

“Miss Cartwig have Lincoln prepare the carriage and the horses,”

“Yes, ma’am. Where to?”

“To manor Eden. Something important has been brought to my attention and I need a word with the Duke that simply can not wait.”

Normally while travelling to manor Eden, Abigail would admire the beautiful scenery, she has always loved nature, but during this particular trip it takes all her self-control not to tear the letter which is firmly clenched into her grip apart.

The Baroness understands that by turning up at the manor without any word, she’s breaking protocol and the Duke will no doubt blame her lower upbringing, but if there’s one thing her parents had taught her was that you should keep fighting for the things you believe in. And she will not lose the school without a fight. Propriety be damned. If the Duke thought that she would just accept his decision, he had seriously underestimated her. She may be a Baroness through marriage, but she definitely wasn’t one of those women who simply followed a man’s orders without voicing an opinion of her own.

In fact, it had been her refusal to do certain things just because a man had told her to do so that had caught Jacob’s interest in the first place. Growing up, he had never come across a woman who had stood up against men and voiced her own opinion as strongly and passionately as Abigail. So when confronted with Abigail who, besides being extremely smart was also beautiful, Jacob couldn’t help but fall in love with her.

Abigail for her part had taken a bit more convincing. Men of Jacob’s social class usually didn’t choose women like her, or at least not for a long time. Their interest usually ended very quickly. But Jacob had insisted that he was being earnest and that if she would allow him, he would like to properly court her. After some pleading on his part, she had finally relented, not that being courted by the handsome Jacob Griffin had been a huge sacrifice on her part. Nonetheless, from the beginning of their courtship, she had made it absolutely clear that if they ended up married, she would continue to teach.

When word had spread that Jacob Griffin, the only child of the Baron and Baroness of Arkadia Park, had intended to marry a teacher, gossip and speculation had run wild. Rumours of her being pregnant out of wedlock were whispered in corners. Others were convinced that she had seduced him and was only interested in his money. Of course, those who knew them or had even seen them in the same room had seen the obvious infatuation and love they had for each other.

She’s so lost in thoughts that the abrupt halt of the carriage startles her. Taking a couple of deep breaths to collect herself, the Baroness awaits before descending from the carriage.

Looking at Eden, she can’t help but be impressed. Every single time she sees the manor it takes her breath away. Unfortunately, this time her reasons for visiting aren’t as pleasant as the previous times.

She had barely left the carriage when a man starts to walk towards her.

“Ma’am, can I help you?”, he asks with a distinctly American accent.

Abigail doesn’t recognise the man, but figures that he must be the new butler.

“Yes, my name is Baroness Abigail Griffin and I wish to speak with the Duke.”

“The Duke is currently out riding,” the man brusquely states.

Looks like the butler’s manners are just like his master’s. Non-existing.

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll just wait inside,” she retorts.

Ignoring the indignant spluttering of the butler, the Baroness turns around and addresses her coachman.

“You may come back in two hours,”

“Yes, ma’am,” comes the swift reply before giving her a salute and leaving.

Abigail starts to walk towards the entrance, the butler hastily following her.

“My lady, I must insist that you come back another time.”

“That won’t be possible I’m afraid. The matter is quite urgent," she insists while entering the foyer.

“Ma’am I-," the butler starts again when a voice interrupts.

“Abigail? What a lovely surprise.”

Turning around, Abigail watches the Duchess approach before closing the distance and giving the older woman a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Vera, it’s so nice to see you again,” Abigail warmly greets her.

“You know the lady, Duchess Kane?”, the butler stiffly inquires.

The Duchess scoffs, “Why yes, of course, Mr. Jaha. This is baroness Abigail Griffin, she lives at Arkadia Park. We’ve been friends for some years. Why don’t you fetch us some tea?”

“Yes, ma’am," Mr. Jaha replies while bowing, but not without throwing the Baroness a glare.

“Charming,” Abigail mutters, causing the Duchess to chuckle while linking their arms.

“I admit Mr. Jaha takes some time to get used to but he is very good at his job,” the older woman comments, as they start to walk towards the drawing room.

“How is darling Clarke by the way? It has been simply too long since I’ve seen that delightful child. You must bring her for a visit soon.”

“Clarke is good, thank you for asking Vera. She sends her your love.”

“So what has prompted this surprise but very welcome visit?”, Vera inquires, as they both sit down, a note of curiosity audible in her voice.

Just as Abigail opens her mouth to answer, a maid enters the room with a tray filled with tea and scones.

Both women keep quiet while the tea’s being poured and the scones are placed on a nearby table.

Picking up her cup, Abigail directs her gaze towards the Duchess.

“I’m actually here to talk to the Duke.”

“My son? Whatever for? Is there something wrong with the school?,” Vera quickly replies, her expression changing into one of worry.

“Forgive me, but aren’t you aware of the letter he mailed me?,” she hesitantly asks.

“No, I don’t know of any letter.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate”, she mutters under her breath, but clearly she isn’t quiet enough because the Duchess picks it up.

“How is that unfortunate? What did the letter say?”

She doesn’t want to burden Vera with the content of the letter, “Oh, it’s nothing too serious Vera. The Duke merely wanted to go over some minor details now that he’s back in Sunderland,” Abigail replies, hoping to sound reassuring.

The Duchess doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push for which Abigail is grateful.

“So you must be happy that your son has returned,” she says while taking a sip of her tea.

A fond smile appears on the older woman’s face. “I am, even if it was unexpected.”

As a comfortable silence falls between them, Abigail can feel a question burn on the tip of her tongue. After a couple of seconds, her curiosity can no longer be contained.

“I’ve also been informed that the Duke didn’t return from America alone.”

When the Duchess merely gives her an amused look, Abigail can feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to pry," she stammers, but the Duchess shakes her head.

“Nonsense Abigail. It’s only natural that you’re curious,” Vera comments, “I don’t know if you ever met my niece Aurora Kane? She married an American businessman before moving to New York.”

“I don’t think I ever had the pleasure of meeting her,” Abigail admits.

“She was a lovely girl but she did always seem to get into trouble. I was never too fond of her husband, but she loved him and that’s more than can be said of other marriages. But, sadly both she and her husband died in an accident three months ago, leaving behind their two children, Bellamy and Octavia.”

“Oh, Vera, I’m so sorry," Abigail softly utters.

The Duchess accepts her condolences with a small but grateful nod, “Thank you, dear.”

“Their grandparents on their father’s side are too old to take care of two children and since they don’t have any other relatives in America, Marcus settled the papers and became their legal guardian. Which is why I was so surprised by his return. I wasn’t expecting them so soon. I thought that the paperwork would take longer.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how are the children?”

“Well, as you can imagine they aren’t very talkative. Octavia is still little so I don’t think she even fully understands what has happened, but Bellamy tries to act tough. Luckily both of them have taken a shine to Marcus which warms my heart,” the Duchess admits with a small smile.

The notion that children would actually enjoy spending time with the cold Duke sounds absurd to Abigail’s ears. Especially after reading his letter. Not wanting to hurt to older woman’s feeling, she makes a non-committal noise while taking another sip from her tea.

“The place must feel more lively with not only your son back, but also two children,” Abigail implores.

“Oh, most definitely. We’re still in the process of getting a governess and of course we need to appoint a teacher,” the Duchess agrees, “It’s all a bit chaotic but I honestly don’t mind it. I prefer it to living in this large house by myself.”

“How old are they if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all. Bellamy’s 11 and Octavia’s 5,” Vera replies.

Abigail distinctly remembers how Clarke was when she was five and she’s about to comment on it when the door of the drawing room is thrown open.

“Mother, have you –,” the man starts to say, only to falter when he realises that his mother isn’t alone.

Closing his mouth, he straightens his back and turns his attention on her.

The man standing in front of her looks so vastly different from the severe and pale man she remembers from four years ago. His hair is longer and curly, he’s sporting a beard speckled with grey patches, his face slightly tanned and Abigail feels a flash of heat in her lower stomach.

They both continue to wordlessly stare at each other, without so much as blinking. Both have seemingly forgotten that his mother is still in the room, but the woman in question hasn’t. She’s glancing between the two of them, a knowing smile hidden behind her cup of tea.

“Marcus, I’m sure you still remember Baroness Griffin?”

His mother’s question breaks the trance that had settled over the two of them and the Duke seems to suddenly remember his manners and he bows.

“How could I ever forget?,” the Duke murmurs, his voice low and gravelly and his gaze intense.

Feeling a blush creeping up, Abigail gives him a small nod, “Duke Kane,”

“To what do we owe your visit, Baroness?,” he politely inquires, sitting down in a chair across from her.

“I’d like to discuss the content of the letter you mailed me,” she replies and at the mention of the letter, his jaw clenches and his expression grows cold and Abigail feels disconcerted at the abrupt change in demeanour. Or how the change makes him look more like the Duke she remembers from four years ago.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I made myself pretty clear in the letter,” the Duke curtly states, crossing his arms while leaning back in the chair.

“Oh, but I think it is,” she swiftly retorts, putting down her cup of tea and gazing straight at him.

“Well, if you insist, we can schedule a –,” he starts, but Abigail cuts him off with a wave of her hand, not caring that she’s being rude.

“I’m available right now.”

“How convenient,” the Duke points out.

Abigail offers him a tight-lipped smile, “I promise it won’t take long. It’s only a little school after all.”

By the way his eyes narrowed, Abigail knows that he got her reference by calling her school little.

“Oh, come on Marcus, I’m sure you can spare a few minutes for the Baroness,” the Duchess insists.

Giving his mother a nod, “Alright then. Why don’t we continue this conversation in my office?”

“I would love to,” she agrees, as she rises from her seat, “It was so nice seeing you again Vera”

“You too dear,” the older woman replies while giving her a hug.

“Oh, Marcus. Was there something you wanted to ask me? When you came into the room?,” his mother asks before the both of them can leave.

“Don’t worry about it mother. It can wait. I promise,” he gently reassures her.

Please, if you’ll follow me, Baroness,” The Duke says while gesturing towards the door.

“Thank you, Duke,” she murmurs before walking passed him.

Her emphasis on his title doesn’t go unnoticed by the momentary tightening of his hands and the Baroness is barely able to suppress a smirk. It may have been four years, but she’s still able to get under his skin.

Good. He has to realise that I won’t give up on my school that easily.

#kabby #marcus kane #abby griffin #kabby ff #kabby fanfiction #kabbysource #kabbyfam #kabbytrash #kabbykru #the 100 #skyparents #lore writes

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tpanan · 7 years ago

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My Friday Daily Blessings

May 4, 2018

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........

First Friday Devotion to the SACRED HEART of JESUS

(Catholic Observance)

Friday of the Fifth Week of Easter (Roman Rite Calendar)

Lectionary: 289, Liturgical Year B

First Reading: Acts 15:22-31

The Apostles and presbyters, in agreement with the whole Church, decided to choose representatives and to send them to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas. The ones chosen were Judas, who was called Barsabbas, and Silas, leaders among the brothers. This is the letter delivered by them: "The Apostles and the presbyters, your brothers, to the brothers in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia of Gentile origin: greetings. Since we have heard that some of our number who went out without any mandate from us have upset you with their teachings and disturbed your peace of mind, we have with one accord decided to choose representatives and to send them to you along with our beloved Barnabas and Paul, who have dedicated their lives to the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. So we are sending Judas and Silas who will also convey this same message by word of mouth: 'It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessities, namely, to abstain from meat sacrificed to idols, from blood, from meats of strangled animals, and from unlawful marriage.

If you keep free of these, you will be doing what is right. Farewell.'" And so they were sent on their journey. Upon their arrival in Antioch they called the assembly together and delivered the letter. When the people read it, they were delighted with the exhortation.

Responsorial Psalm: Ps 57:8-9, 10 and 12

"I will give you thanks among the peoples,O LORD."

Verse before the Gospel: John 15:15b

Alleluia, Alleluia

"I call you my friends, says the Lord, For I have made known to you all that the Father has told me."

Alleluia, Alleluia

Gospel Reading: John 15:12-17

Jesus said to his disciples: "This is my commandment: love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I no longer call you slaves, because a slave does not know what his master is doing. I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father. It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he may give you. This I command you: love one another."

**Meditation:

What is the greatest act of love which one can give for the sake of another? Jesus defines friendship - the mutual bond of trust and affection which people choose to have for one another - as the willingness to give totally of oneself - even to the point of laying down one's life for a friend. How is such love possible or even desirable? God made us in love for love. That is our reason for being, our purpose for living, and our goal in dying.

God has poured his love into our hearts It is for this reason that we can take hold of a hope that does not fade and a joy that does not diminish because God has poured his love into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us (Romans 5:5). God's love is not limited or subject to changing circumstances. It is an enduring love that has power to change and transform us to be like him - merciful, gracious, kind, forgiving, and steadfast in showing love not only for our friends, but for our enemies as well. God's love is boundless because he is the source of abundant life, perfect peace, and immeasurable joy for all who open their hearts to him. That is why Jesus came to give us abundant life through the gift and working of the Holy Spirit.

Friendship with God Jesus calls his disciples his personal friends. Jesus not only showed his disciples that he personally cared for them and sought their welfare. He personally enjoyed their company and wanted to be with them in a close and intimate relationship. He ate with them, shared everything he had with them - even his innermost heart and thoughts. And he spent himself in doing as much good for them as he could. To know Jesus personally is to know God and the love and friendship he offers to each one of us.

Love to the death The Lord Jesus gives his followers a new commandment - a new way of love that goes beyond giving only what is required or what we think others might deserve. What is the essence of Jesus' new commandment of love? It is a love to the death - a purifying love that overcomes selfishness, fear, and pride. It is a total giving of oneself for the sake of others - a selfless and self-giving love that is oriented towards putting the welfare of others ahead of myself.

Love that produces abundant fruit and joy The Lord Jesus tells us that he is our personal friend and he loves us wholeheartedly and unconditionally. He wants us to love one another just as he has loved us, wholeheartedly, without reserve, and full of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness. His love fills our hearts and transforms our minds and frees us to give ourselves in loving service to others. If we open our hearts to his love and obey his command to love our neighbor, then we will know his love more fully and we will bear much fruit - especially the fruit of peace, joy, patience, kindness, and goodness - the kind of fruit that lasts for eternity. Do you wish to be fruitful and to abound in the love of God? Trust and obey him and he will fill you with his overflowing love.

**Prayer:

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for Use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, Copyright © 2001, 1998, 1997, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain © 1968, 1981, 1997, International Committee on English in the Liturgy, Inc. All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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fevie168 · 8 years ago

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Friday (May 19): "I have called you friends"

Scripture: John 15:12-17

12 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command you. 15 No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you. 16 You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide; so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. 17 This I command you, to love one another.

God has poured his love into our hearts It is for this reason that we can take hold of a hope that does not fade and a joy that does not diminish because God has poured his love into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us(Romans 5:5). God's love is not limited or subject to changing circumstances. It is an enduring love that has power to change and transform us to be like him - merciful, gracious, kind, forgiving, and steadfast in showing love not only for our friends, but for our enemies as well. God's love is boundless because he is the source of abundant life, perfect peace, and immeasurable joy for all who open their hearts to him. That is why Jesus came to give us abundant life through the gift and working of the Holy Spirit.

Friendship with God

Psalm 57:7-11

7 My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody! 8 Awake, my soul! Awake, O harp and lyre! I will awake the dawn! 9 I will give thanks to you, O Lord, among the peoples; I will sing praises to you among the nations. 10 For your steadfast love is great to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds. 11 Be exalted, O God, above the heavens! Let your glory be over all the earth!

Daily Quote from the early church fathers: Love encompasses the other commandments, by Ephrem the Syrian (306-373 AD)

"This is my commandment." Have you then only one precept? This is sufficient, even if it is unique and so great. Nevertheless he also said, "Do not kill" (Matthew 19:18) because the one who loves does not kill. He said, "Do not steal," because the one who loves does even more—he gives. He said, "Do not lie," for the one who loves speaks the truth, against falsehood. "I give you a new commandment" (John 13:14). If you have not understood what "This is my commandment" means, let the apostle be summoned as interpreter and say, "The goal of his commandment is love" (1 Timothy 1:5). What is its binding force? It is that of which [the Lord] spoke, "Whatever you want others to do to you, you should do also" (Matthew 7:12)."Love one another" in accordance with this measure, "as I have loved you." That is not possible, for you are our Lord who loves your servants. But we who are equals, how can we love one another as you have loved us? Nevertheless, he has said it... His love is that he has called us his friends. If we were to give our life for you, would our love be equal to yours?... How then can what he said be explained, "As I have loved you"? "Let us die for each other," he said. As for us, we do not even want to live for one another! "If I, who am your Lord and God, die for you, how much more should you die for one another." (excerpt from COMMENTARY ON TATIAN'S DIATESSARON 19.13)

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seekfirstme · 5 years ago

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God has poured his love into our hearts

Friendship with God

Love to the death

Love that produces abundant fruit and joy

THE GOD OF LIFESTYLE

"It is the decision of the Holy Spirit, and ours too, not to lay on you any burden beyond that which is strictly necessary." —Acts 15:28

The elders of the church of Jerusalem and the Holy Spirit decided Gentile Christians did not need to be circumcised, but rather had to change their lifestyle, "namely, to abstain from meat sacrificed to idols, from blood, from the meat of strangled animals, and from illicit sexual union" (Acts 15:29). Meat sacrificed to idols was a major item in the marketplace. Therefore, to abstain from this was, in part, an economic decision. The Gentiles were also told to change their eating habits and their attitude toward sexual relations. In other words, the Gentiles were required to make lifestyle changes in the areas of money, food, and sex. This is comparable to telling a modern person, even a Christian, to stop buying certain foods, to quit eating meat or drinking caffeine, and to quit watching prime time TV with its pornographic innuendoes.

When the letter containing these rules was read, "there was great delight at the encouragement it gave" (Acts 15:31). If a similar letter requiring lifestyle changes was read at your church, would the people be delighted or defiant? Lifestyle is the false god of the modern American church. Our comforts, pleasure, and entertainment mean more to us than loving God. That's where our time and money goes, and God gets the leftovers, if there are any. Repent!

Prayer: Risen Jesus, may I repent of living for selfish pleasure.

Promise: "This is My commandment: love one another as I have loved you." —Jn 15:12

Praise: St. Isidore was canonized in 1622. He's in good company: St. Ignatius of Loyola, St. Francis Xavier, St. Teresa of Avila, and St. Philip Neri were declared saints at the same time.

Reference: (For a related teaching on Following the World (Spiritual Adultery), order, listen to, or download our CD 53-1 or DVD 53 on our website.)

Rescript: †Most Reverend Joseph R. Binzer, Auxiliary Bishop, Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, September 24, 2020

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seekfirstme · 6 years ago

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God has poured his love into our hearts

Friendship with God

Love to the death

Love that produces abundant fruit and joy

The following reflection is from One Bread, One Body courtesy of Presentation Ministries �� 2019.

THE FRUIT OF LOVE

"It was not you who chose Me, it was I Who chose you to go forth and bear fruit." John 15:16

In the very first chapter of the Bible, we hear the Lord's first words to the newly created human race. He commanded us to bear fruit (Gn 1:28). We are chosen specifically for the purpose of bearing much fruit that will last (Jn 15:16, 5). Shortly before His Ascension, Jesus commanded us to go and make disciples of all nations, that is, to bear the fruit of holiness and evangelization (Mt 28:19). We will come to a tragic end unless we bear fruit (Lk 13:5-9), for we will be judged on whether we had the faith and love to obey His commands, particularly His command to bear fruit.

Because bearing fruit is so important, Jesus tries to make sure we bear fruit. He Himself will bear fruit through us. All we have to do is to remain in Him and He in us (Jn 15:5). A deep, abiding, personal relationship with Jesus always bears His fruit. A branch doesn't have to worry about bearing fruit. It just has to let the life of the Vine flow through it. Intimacy with Jesus is always fruitful. Abide in Him and He in you.

Prayer: Father, make my relationship with You so deep that it bears a hundredfold harvest (see Mk 4:20). Promise: "When it was read there was great delight at the encouragement it gave." —Acts 15:31 Praise: Praying for holiness, Patricia thus began to see God in herself and others. (Bear fruit by reading the Bible every day. We have several series to help you: Overview of the Bible is six CDs starting with or three starting with . Bible Testament is forty CDs starting with . An Introduction to Each Book of the Bible is CDs starting with or seventeen starting with .)

Rescript: In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") for One Bread, One Body covering the period from April 1, 2019 through May 31, 2019.

Most Reverend Joseph R. Binzer, Auxiliary Bishop, Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, November 28, 2018.

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