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missameliep · 4 years ago

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Somewhere In Time - Desire & Decorum (Modern/Time Travel AU)

Book: Desire and Decorum Pairing: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth Foredale (OC) Characters: Elizabeth (OC); Prince Hamid; Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster; Earl of Edgewater (Vincent); Maria (OC); Dowager Countess Dominique; Countess Henrietta; Annabelle Parsons; Harry Foredale. Rating: M�� Warnings: mentions to death (non-descriptive); minor characters’ death. Word count: 8k

Summary: If you had the chance to fix the past and allow someone else’s happiness at the possible expense of your own future, would you do it? Elizabeth faces this dilemma when she wakes up one morning and realizes she is no longer in 2019. How will her actions impact the future?

Notes: * All characters belong to PixelBerry, except OCs. * English is not my first language. * This is my submission to CFWC Nerd Week - Prompt: Day 2 - Time Travel. Thank you for hosting this event @choicesficwriterscreations and congratulations on the blog’s 1st anniversary!

December 24th, 2019.

Calmness had settled over Edgewater manor.

Marking the passage of the hours, a centuries old pendulum clock stands like an imposing guard at the foyer, ticking regularly, reminding time do not stand still. The smaller hand points at eleven. Ticktock. And the bigger one approaches the three.

One could mistake that for any ordinary night and even forget Christmas would be celebrated the next day, if not for the greenery and fairy-lights from the elegant decorations and the persistent smell of cinnamon from the rabanadas[1] Elizabeth prepared with Briar and Mrs Daly’s aid and were eagerly devoured by some and eyed with suspicious or disgust by others – and by others I mean Countess Henrietta, Elizabeth’s step mother.

Once, Christmas’s Eve used to be more festive at the manor with friendly gatherings, singing and children’s anxiously inspecting the pile of presents under the decorated tree at the drawing room, guessing the contents of the boxes wrapped in colourful papers and tied with perfect bows. However, those days are in the past and the Earl of Edgewater’s daughter never partake in any of those joyous celebrations for a myriad of inexcusable reasons.

Except for the two couples at the living room, cosily snuggling in blankets, everyone else had retreated to their rooms after dinner. Most of the staff was dismissed by the Earl to celebrate the holidays with their own families, and the few employers working that day were given the night off. Only the Countess complained about it. For Elizabeth and Hamid, this was a chance to have the kitchen entirely to themselves.

Before the four started binge-watching Outlander, Elizabeth prepared popcorn and brigadeiro[2] with her boyfriend’s help, which consisted mostly of handing packages and distracting her with teasing kisses on her neck while she stirred the mixture in the pan and begging to taste it despite being too hot. On their turn, Briar and Edmund took all the time in the world retrieving bags of chips and cans of soda and beer from the pantry next doors.

The soft yellow glow from the fairy lights of one of the many Christmas’s trees decorating the house was the only other source of light besides the television. A bowl of popcorn on her lap, Elizabeth has her eyes glued at the large screen, despite having watched the series before. Amused, Hamid throws an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer. The woman smiles and nestles on his chest, earning a kiss on the top of her head.

“How do you like it?” she asks him softly.

“The series?” Hamid says, “It’s good.”

“I cannot believe you guys never watched Outlander…”

“Better late than never…” Briar says and leans closer to Elizabeth, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone, “By the way, does it make me a horrible person that I was totally turned on by that whipping scene?”

Elizabeth chuckles at the unexpected remark, but the man massaging Briar’s feet is not as amused.

“I’m right here, baby,” Edmund complains.

Scooting closer, Briar wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek.

“I love you, Eddie, and no one else, but I have functioning eyes. Just like you.” The blonde’s eyebrows raise almost reaching his hairline, at the knowing look his fiancée’s throw at him.

A chuckle rumbled into Hamid’s chest, and Elizabeth playfully shoves more popcorn into his mouth before he can say anything, and the others’ hushed conversation soon die down replaced by remarks about the series’ plot.

“Can you imagine how cool it would be going back in time like Claire?” Briar asks excitedly.

“Not cool at all,” Elizabeth replies. “Why would I go back to a time when there was no potable water or basic sanitation? People did not know about germs.”

“People smelled,” Edmund adds.

“Don't forget the rotten teeth,” Hamid points at his white smile before retrieving a spoonful of brigadeiro.

“No heating.”

“No antibiotics or vaccines.”

“Gosh! You guys are no fun!” Briar raises her hands in the air with exasperation. “How can you not see how amazing this experience can be? She can prevent horrible things from happening!”

Without missing a beat, Edmund states, “Two words: butterfly effect.”

“I need more elaboration on that, Eddie…”

“It’s a theory. Changing one event in the past, even a small one, can impact the future and even erase people’s existence. And it doesn't necessary mean whatever she is doing will make the future better.”

“And sometimes an isolated fact seems bad on its own,” Hamid pondered, “but it actually is part of a greater picture and contributes to other events and the overall consequences are positive.”

“True. Without World War II there wouldn’t be the United Nations nor lots of treaties on Human Rights,” Elizabeth adds, “I remember a passage from one of Hannah Arendt’s books when she was analysing the –” Elizabeth stops talking, acknowledging Hamid’s grin and the adoration in his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love when you talk nerd.”

Hamid kisses the tip of her nose, and she giggles. The faint light concealed the way her cheeks still blush at his attention.

Another episode starts and the group shares impressions about the impacts of Claire in the past.

“Will she make it?” Briar whispers her question to Elizabeth.

“If I tell you that, I’ll spoil the show… for you and everyone else.”

“Alright,” she concedes and looks around. “I can’t believe you guys wouldn’t risk changing anything to make the present better…”

“I have played many games and watched many movies to consider that a good idea,” Edmund states.

“Lizzy mentioned World War II… Picture this: someone goes back in time and prevent Hitler from killing all those people. Imagine the lives that could have been saved! Is it not worth the try? Even if things get a little messy…”

“You mean killing Hitler?”

“There’s plenty of ways to stop him without actually killing him, Eddie…”

“The time traveller could help him become a successful artist. Maybe he would be less frustrated and murderous… Who knows?” Hamid suggests with an amused smile.

“See!” Briar says grinning. “An easy solution. No murder. Totally doable. Just buy the man’s crap paintings and no war.”

“And what about the others?” Elizabeth ponders, “Hitler never acted alone… and there was Mussolini too… and all the others… it was not a one man’s thing.”

“Alright, maybe we need to work some more on this one…” Briar sipped the beer and started over. “But consider this, don’t you think it would be amazing to help at least one person. I bet Lizzy’s great-grandma would be pleased if someone helped her with that Duke thing… With our knowledge we could totally prevent her from getting engaged to that git and it would not blow on our faces!”

Elizabeth gnawed at her thumbnail, pondering. “Maybe time travelling could work in particular situations like that… What you think?” she asked, looking at Hamid, but it was Edmund who spoke up.

“If Lady Clara does not get engaged to the Duke,” Edmund points out, “she would not learn about his schemes. Therefore, she would not prevent the coup he was orchestrating… Which means there is a chance he and his group could overthrow the monarchy in the end… Imagine all the outcomes.”

Hamid agrees. “And perhaps, changing that, Lady Clara and the Prince could marry earlier, and could have other children, affecting the Foredales’ offspring and Liz could not be here now.”

“Oh! I do not like that alternative!”

“Neither do I,” Hamid agrees and kisses her hand.

“Alright. Got it. Not messing with Lizzy’s great-grandma either… But I still think there are things we can change that could make things better and not erase our friends or blow up the entire world,” Briar mused.

“I think we should focus on the present,” Hamid muses, “That’s the only time that actually exists and when we can improve the future…”

“You’re so wise sometimes, meu amor[3]…”

“I know.”

“Baby, can we go to bed?” Edmund says softly, nuzzling against Briar’s neck. “I’m tired and Christmas’s day always starts very early in the morning. Despite us all being adults, lady grandmother still expects us to get together and open presents… And did I mention I’m tired?”

“I hope not too tired,” she teases, and he whispers something unintelligible that makes her laugh.

Switching off the television, the group bid goodnight, and each couple withdraws to their chambers.

After brushing her teeth, Elizabeth changed into her pyjamas, while Hamid was lying in bed, playing a game on his mobile. His eyes followed her, lost in her thoughts, slowly walking back to the room. The contemplative look he was too familiar with.

When she pulled the covers to get into the bed with him, he smiled at her and immediately put the mobile away.

“You don’t have to stop,” she says softly, kissing his cheek.

“I was just killing time until you came...” He tilted his face, capturing her lips for a kiss. “And I’d much rather do this!” When she smiled against his lips, his mouth trailed a path down her neck. His warm breath giving her goosebumps.

“Are you enjoying your first Christmas?”

His response was a hum against her sweet-scented skin.

“I have brought you a present. It’s under the tree.”

“Really?” Her voice raised with surprise, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “What is it?”

“You’ll see it in the morning.”

“Please…”

Still peppering kisses on her collarbone, he mouthed, “No.”

“Why did you have to say it? Now I’m curious and won’t stop thinking about it...”

“I’m confident I can provide a better distraction to your mind…” His hands travelled down her body and a soft pleased moan escaped her lips.

“So, I was wondering, do you think there are things we can change about our past that would not impact other people’s lives?”

His head tilted up and his dark eyes met hers. “Your dirty talking is getting weirder…”

She chuckled, and her fingers delved into his soft dark hair.

“Indulge me,” she pleaded, with the puppy eyes he cannot resist.

Hamid pondered for a moment until a playful smile curled the corners of his mouth.

“Our past shameful haircuts.”

“What?”

“Think about it. Fixing horrible hairstyles can’t possibly have lasting results other than improving ones’ own life and confidence... Imagine going back and helping your past self, preventing revolting nicknames that would follow you for years… It would be worthy telling ten-year-old Hamid to not let Hande cut his hair. One Youtube video is not enough to turn a girl with a scissor into an accomplished hairstylist, despite what that girl with the purple hair said.”

“Your ten-year-old self was already too cute and self-confident,” Elizabeth says, caressing his cheek. “That bad hair-cut was essential to help build your character.”

Both laughed at their silliness for a while, until Hamid gave in to his curiosity.

“So, what are you thinking about changing?”

“Why do you think I want to change anything?”

“Because I know you, hayatım[4],” he replies, propping an elbow and looking her straight in the eyes. The green eyes he adores. “Is it a test you want a do over?”

She hits his arm playfully. “My life is more than my studies… you know that.”

“Is it about me?” he teases, “I know you wanted to kiss me that day in my flat…”

She propped on her elbow too and faced him. “I wanted to kiss you many days in your flat, Hamid…”

“Ooh! Miss Foredale, that’s quite a revelation!” he quips, “But not grand enough to avoid my question…”

“Well… If I could, I would have been honest with my father. About my mother’s disease. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I regret not telling…” she says, voice cracking while she blinked away the tears blurring her vision, “If I were given a do over, I’d do that… I would give them the chance. Maybe they could have been happy.”

“Even if it could impact your own future?”

The tips of her fingers traced random shapes up and down Hamid’s shirt, while she organized her thoughts and formulated an answer.

“I guess so… And… I don’t know… Maybe there could be a way to save Harry too…”

The flow of emotions completely blurred her vision, before the tears streamed down her cheek, and she averted her gaze. Immediately, Hamid pulled her flush to his chest, whispering soft comforting words against her hair. Despite her silence, he was aware the holidays prompted her to revisit too many memories, and the conversations earlier were just the last straw...

“I’m sorry. That’s silly. I’m being silly –”

“You are not,” he assures, and she sniffs.

“– I should not be sad over this…”

With her palms, she wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine…” She lied through her teeth, and tries to change the topic of conversation from herself, “Would you change anything? Besides your hair?”

“About my past? Never. All I am, all I did made me who I am and brought me here and to you, so no. I’m absolutely satisfied with my life.”

They went silent for a moment, and Elizabeth nestled on his chest, while Hamid stroked her curly hair.

“Do you think we would have fallen in love if we met under different circumstances, Hamid?”

“If I was to live a thousand lives, I would fall in love with you in each and every single one of them.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. My heart would just know you were out there, and I would travel the entire world to find you.”

“Aww that’s sweet…”

“That’s the truth.”

The light filtering through the curtains invaded the room and her dreams. Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open, and she flinched at the unexpected brightness for a winter’s morning.

A few seconds and realization dawned on her.

“Oh, no! We overslept!” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. “Grandma will be so angry.”

Sitting on the bed, she was about to call Hamid when her fingers retreated at the touch of the fabric covering her body. Instead of the grey stripped duvet, her hand pushed away a light summer blanket in lavender that wasn’t in her bed last night.

“Hamid, did you –” she interrupter herself when she reached for Hamid but did not find him beside her, which was an odd occurrence considering he rarely woke up before her or his alarm. His mobile was not by the bedside table, and she noticed she was not in the same room. The walls were covered in a pastel pink wallpaper with a delicate floral pattern, and there was no sign of her books over the desk.

Oh, God. Where am I? Do I sleepwalk now?

She got up and stared for a moment at the pink slippers waiting for her feet. A pair she hasn’t seen in years.

Is it a prank?

“Hamid?” she called him, but there was no answer and not a sign of him or his belongings anywhere. At the en-suite bathroom, a single bath towel was hanging and one toothbrush over the sink. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she froze and stared at the reflection. Her curly hair was longer, with golden highlights and her jaw dropped revealing the braces attached to her teeth.

“Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! This is impossible!”

Running back into the bedroom, she found her mobile with its Yoda case over the side table. Had she not sit on the bed, the device and herself would have hit the ground when she read the date on the screen: July 3rd, 2013.

She googled the date, then the news, confirming the impossible. Her body fell back on the bed and she stared at the ceiling. A million questions running through her mind. Her heartbeat raced, and she rubbed her moist hands against the bedcovers.

Am I fourteen again or have I been dreaming everything else, including Hamid?

Her stomach sunk at this hypothesis. Reaching for the mobile, she googled his name and there were a few magazine articles from 2011 praising the looks and intelligence of the handsome teenager son of the Turkish ambassador at the United States. A sigh of relieve escaped her lungs. At least he is real, but this information does little to help her understand what is happening.

Closing her eyes, she inhales deeply. She pinches herself in the arm again and again. The pain is real, and she does not wake up.

Mobile in hand, she goes through her latest texts and finds the ones exchanged with her mother. A lone tear escapes her eye, and before she remembered the ocean between them, her fingers pressed the picture and the phone dials. It rings a few times before the husky voice speaks in Portuguese:

“Hello?”

“Mamãe[5]?”

“Liz, my dear, is something wrong?” her mother asks, her voice carries more worry than sleep.

“Nothing,” Elizabeth dismisses her concern, her throat tightening at the sound of her voice. Not even the videos feel so real. “I just wanted to tell you I love you. Sorry for waking you up for this –”

“I love you too, sweetie,” her voice was tender. “If you need to talk –”

“I’m fine. I’ll call you later. Bye.”

Her body was shaking when the happy tears stopped streaming down her cheeks. Another deep, calming inhale, and she got up. Even if it is merely a dream, she will not pass the opportunity to speak or see her mother.

Going through the wardrobe, Elizabeth picks one of the several fancy summer dresses her grandmother provided her every year and tied her hair in a single braid.

On her way downstairs, her eyes inspect it all. The house looks the same, yet so different from last night as if she is walking into an old movie or picture.

The sound of voices and the clinking of cutlery attracts her. At the terrace, like they do every summer, the family is gathered for breakfast. Her father, the Earl of Edgewater has his back turned away from her, sitting at the end of the long table filled with delicacies. The man’s hair is darker, less grey streaks pepper his head. Calmly, he spreads butter over a toast while chatting with Lady grandmother, who looks exactly the same, as if not a single day has passed. Henrietta sits across from her, sipping tea. By her side, on his usual chair is Edmund, who still had his cheeks tinted rosier by acne. By his side, hiding his mobile under the table, is Harry.

Elizabeth fails to hold a gasp at the sight of her younger brother.

Without a second thought, she runs and hugs him tightly. Startled, the boy drops the bagel he was taking to his mouth and it hits the ground.

“Eliza,” he squeals. “My bagel!”

“Vincent!” Henrietta roars, “that girl is attacking my son!”

“Sorry about that,” Elizabeth mutters under her breath, but leans again and kisses the boy’s cheek and hugs him more gently. “But I missed you so much!”

“What are you talking about? We played videogames until 2 in the morning…” he grumbles, trying to extricate himself from her embrace.

Finally, she lets him go and every pair of eyes stare at her.

“I – Sorry. I had a bad dream.” She grabs another bagel from the tray and hands it to Harry.

Taking her place at the other side of the table, besides her grandmother, she cannot stop staring at her brother.

“Two days to your birthday. Are you excited, Eliza?” Vincent asks,

“I could not be more excited, dad.”

Noticing the persistent stare, Harry makes a face at Elizabeth.

“Do not forget, after breakfast, we’ll go to Moorfield for the final fitting of your dress,” her grandmother says, and explains every little detail about the schedule for the next days, just like she remembers.

The entire day goes by and she cannot shake off the sense of déja vu. With every passing hour, certainty grows that she is living this same day again. She can predict everything that’ll happen.

Outside the store at Moorfield, the same dalmatian puppy runs loose after he escapes his owner. The man screams for people to get out of the way, and the dog bumps against Elizabeth’s leg on his way down the street until he enters a restaurant, its leash entangles around the legs of the waiter and he stumbles, dropping a tray of food with a loud clatter.

While her grandmother looked horrified at the scene, Elizabeth realized this could be the second chance she dreamed for so long.

Later that same day, as promised, she called her mother and asked about her health, just to be sure. The woman stifled and went silent for a long moment.

“Liz, you promised you would respect my wishes and not tell your father...”

“Don’t you think he should know?”

“I – Darling, it is probably nothing…” she paused, “Cancer is not a death sentence anymore.”

Her words carried her smile, like they so often did, and Elizabeth swallowed hard, knowing how this story ends.

The evening before her birthday, pacing in her room, Elizabeth considered her options. She will tell her father about her mother. Should he know about Harry too? Perhaps she should not tell him that…

At the hallway, she peeked inside the Earl’s study. Her father was working on his computer, and when he saw her at the door, he greeted her with a smile and noticed the worry frown in her face.

“Is something the matter, my dear?”

“Can we talk?”

“Of course,” he replies, and immediately raises to his feet.

Elizabeth closes the door behind her and joins her father at the small sofa.

“I have something important to tell you,” she says, trying to muster the strength to not stutter or abandon this task.

For the next ten minutes, she speaks without interruption. The man’s jaw drops, and his fingers delve into his hair, raking it back repeatedly.

When her mouth stops, it is his time to speak and he asks when Maria died.

“June 10, 2018.”

“Five years.” His hand covers his mouth. His shoulders droop and he leans forward as if suddenly his body gives up at the weight of her words. The man’s eyes return to his daughter’s face, and he asks, seeking a confirmation, “And we never talked about it?”

Elizabeth shook her head, and Vincent rubbed his face.

“Harry was such a skilled skier… so confident…” incredulity filling his tone. “When?”

“2018. The accident was on January 14, and he died two days later…”

“My God…” he sighs, and Elizabeth considers if this was too much to throw at her father.

She reaches for his hand, and gently squeezes it. “It sounds crazy. I sound crazy. Trust me, I know…”

“But how did it happen? How do you -”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I don’t know if I dreamed it all, or if I am dreaming now… I keep expecting to wake up any moment now… But at the same time, if it is happening for a reason, I wanted us to have another chance… I needed to fix this… even if it changes the course of everything else.”

He stared at her for a moment, and her lips rolled inside her mouth.

“You don’t have to believe me, dad.”

“I believe you.”

From that day on, the Foredales’ lives took an unexpected turn.

When Elizabeth went back home to Rio de Janeiro at the end of the month, Vincent accompanied her. At the airport, Maria was surprised to see him. For the first time in years, they talked. Frankly. It wasn’t pretty to watch, and Elizabeth actively tried not to listen to them talking in her mother’s room.

They stayed there for hours, revisiting painful memories and broken promises. However, in the end, they reconciled and decided to give themselves a second chance.

Surprising everyone, the Earl of Edgewater took a licence from Parliament, and convinced Maria to move to London to seek a better treatment plan. The news rekindled the paparazzi’s interest, and they followed the couple and their daughter everywhere. Her disease become known to the public while they visited many doctors.

This time, the Earl stayed by Maria’s side at the hospital and Elizabeth could not hide her happiness while both took turns watching over her mother.

With every passing day, she was certain she did the right thing.

By the end of the year, the Earl and Henrietta were divorced. And during the process, and the scandals that followed, it took a few weeks and a lot of Vincent’s patience for Harry to speak to him again.

Three months later, the Earl married Maria at the chapel at Edgewater in a small private ceremony, that only Elizabeth, Edmund, Harry and Lady Dominique witnessed. Maria had just left the hospital after a surgery, and the long sleeves of her dress covered the IV marks, but nothing – not even the tears rolling down her cheeks – could conceal the joy overflowing her heart.

And Elizabeth knew it was worth it.

“Fuck the butterfly effect,” she muttered under her breath outside the chapel, breaking her rule of not swearing, and lady grandmother chided her for being ill-mannered.

The months went by, and her days had fewer dèja vu. She still talked to her friends at Brazil, and video called them, but she settled on her new routine and slowly made new friends.

During the celebration of Easter in 2014, the Parsons were amongst the families invited to lunch at Edgewater, and Elizabeth and Annabelle finally met.

“Annabelle! It’s so good to see you,” Elizabeth blurted out when Harry introduced them, and their eyes widened at the effusiveness of the usually shy teenager.

“That’s the first time someone gets so excited to meet me,” the other girl laughed, sharing a knowing look with Harry, who rolled his eyes.

“My sister was not properly socialized,” Harry teased, “and she does not know how to interact with people.”

Elizabeth slapped Harry playfully, and addressed Annabelle. “Sorry. But Harry talks so much about you that it just seems like we are already friends…”

“I’m not complaining, Elizabeth.”

They shook hands, sealing the beginning of their good friendship, and the trio was inseparable ever since, despite Harry’s initial disapproval on sharing his friend.

With time, Elizabeth and Annabelle grew even closer.

For the second time, instead of Oxford, Elizabeth chose to stay close to her mother at London and went to King’s College Law school.

Eventually they met Briar – and this time around, Elizabeth had to put an extra effort for this to happen, since her friendship with Annabelle changed a lot of things, including the habits, routines and the circle of friends Annabelle had at uni.

And since the first day, she wondered what would it take for Briar and Edmund to fall in love again.

The years passed and not a day went by without her sparing a thought - or plenty more - about Hamid, wondering where he would be or what he would be doing.

On a notebook concealed in a bottom drawer, she wrote down everything that she remembered about him and could matter someday: tales from his childhood and stories about his scars, the names of his sisters and family members, and more practical details like the probable date when he moved to London, or when he started working with her father, his mobile number and e-mail address. From time to time, she would pick it up, and read it all, afraid she could be forgetting about him.

Sometimes, when missing him was unbearable and her heart ached inside her chest, she would take a look at his Pictagram. The sight of his pictures, specially the ones with his cat Princess Leia – who she missed so much! – often made her smile. And she laughed at the jokes exchanged between him and his sisters, and even got a little jealous of the comments of some of his thousands of followers, thirsting over his physique, even though she had no right to feel that way.

One evening, while watching a movie, she was lost in her thoughts, and picked her mobile to text her mother, but ended up looking at Hamid’s profile again.

Annabelle and Briar shared a knowing look.

“Are you daydreaming about that mysterious mate again, Lizzy?”

“Excuse me?” Elizabeth was startled by the question, and when she met Briar’s stare, she tried to hide her mobile. However, the other gently pulled her wrist to take a better look at the screen.

“Hmmm… Shirtless. Sexy. I like what he has done with his hair, by the way. Why are you not liking his pictures? You definitely should!”

“No!” Elizabeth pulled the mobile away from her.

“Why not?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you ever telling who is he?” Annabelle asked from her seat where she was painting her nails.

Elizabeth sighed, and looked away before she replied. Despite hating lies, there were some truths that were not easy to handle.

“He is just… someone I knew.”

“Really? When did you meet him?” Annabelle asked surprised. “He seems a little... old.”

“Long ago. It seems like another life now...”

“When are you asking him out?”

“I’m not.”

“So, you’ll keep stalking this mysterious guy online while not dating anyone else?”

“I’m not stalking him…”

“Right…”

“And I don’t have time to date right now. Uni is already too much. And I’ll start my internship with Sinclaire soon… Too much…”

“Lots of people do both,” Annabelle said, and raised her hands in the air when Elizabeth glared at her. “I’m just saying.”

At last, August, 2016 arrived.

By her counts, by the end of the week, Hamid would already have moved to London and started working at the embassy. Just a few blocks away from the house, and she knows by heart all of his favourite places.

Anxiety chastised her nails, which were bitten to its last piece, and she started gnawing at her cuticles and only the metallic taste on her mouth made her stop.

“Sweetie,” Maria called her softly one morning, and took her hands in hers and inspected them. The concerned look she spared at her nails were less about the aesthetic or the wounded cuticles, and more about what prompted that behaviour. She knows her daughter too well to realize when something is going on. “I worry about you, Liz. You have not been eating properly and you seem so absentminded… Do you wish to talk?”

“I’m alright,” she replies, forcing a smile. Maria’s knitted brow indicated she did not believe her words. “Really, I’m just tired…”

“I’m not dying. Not right now.”

“I know,” Elizabeth smiled, and this time she meant it.

“I will not force you to speak, you know that… But if you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “I’m leaving now. I’ll cycle at the park.”

“Good. Fresh air will do you good.”

Her mother kissed her on the cheek and Elizabeth felt her chest tightening.

Anytime her heart wishes the sands of time would trickle faster, rushing Hamid’s arrival, it means her mother’s time would be running out faster too.

One cannot have it all.

That morning, she cycled until the Turkish embassy’s street, and stared at the building from the corner, wondering if Hamid was there.

Almost every day she would walk by that building or by one of Hamid’s favourite places. Some days she would grab a coffee and a sweet and sit by the window at the place he first took her after they met; other times she would ask the drive to circle past the street of his flat, even though he only moved in about six months after he was at London. Illogical as it was, she asked him to do so anyways. Her eyes stared at the windows, as she remembered watching movies together, talking, laughing, eating the dinners he prepared and all they did. Her heart raced at the thought of the first I love you he professed, and she blushed at the reminiscences of their first time.

Weeks went by and there was no sign of him at London.

The tabloids barely posted anything about him lately, which was really odd considering how many articles about him there used to be, focusing on his many adventures and famous affairs with all those gorgeous women.

October, 2016

By the end of October, Elizabeth was done with waiting and wondering.

For weeks, whenever possible, she would bring Turkey or any related subject to the conversations at the house, hoping her father would eventually speak about Hamid to no avail.

Therefore, mustering all her courage, she decided on a more direct approach. Halfway to the Earl’s study, she questioned her decision.

Peeking inside, she saw her father sitting behind the imposing mahogany desk, where several piles of papers were sitting, while he typed on the computer’s keyboard.

What am I even telling him?

Growling, she pulled her knuckles away from the door before knocking and gnawed on a cuticle.

If I wait even another minute, I’ll have no more nails left. Or sanity… Sure, this can never be weirder than our previous conversation… I can be smooth…

While Elizabeth debated whether she should go inside or not, Vincent caught a glimpse of his daughter pacing in front of the door, biting on a nail.

“Eliza,” he called, “do you wish to speak to me?”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and peeked inside. A polite smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes.

“I was curious about your work,” she said, wriggling her hands, “but if you are too busy…”

“I’m never too busy for my children. Take a seat.” He pointed at one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. “There was a time you would need no invitation and just come running inside and sit on my lap.” Her father’s face brightened with the memory, and her laughter joined his.

“I must warn you, nevertheless, that it is still as boring as it used to be when you were five.”

“Eighteen-year-olds don’t share the same interests of five-year-olds…” she quipped, “There’s hope I might not sleep now.”

“That would be an improvement.”

For the next minutes, Vincent summarized the bill about medical care he was working to present at Parliament on a week’s time. Despite being proud of her father’s engagement in that subject – the knowledge and experiences acquired these past three years while accompanying Maria’s treatment certainly contributed to that dedication, she was certain –, however none of this would involve Hamid, who only ever worked with her father on commercial treaties between the United Kingdom and Turkey.

“… then Maria suggested a fundraiser to raise awareness and mother is working with her. Their many suggestions include a silent auction; but I’m still considering the options.”

“That is interesting.”

“Is it?” he remarked, noticing how her attention kept shifting to the leather covered appointment book over the desk. “What is really on your mind, my dear? You seem distracted lately…”

“It’s just… I’ve read about the issue with the immigrants and refugees, and I know Parliament will be discussing it soon…”

“That subject truly concerns me as well.”

“Do you have anything scheduled about it?”

“I have a meeting with the Prime-Minister and another one with the Italian diplomats next week.”

“Isn’t there a meeting maybe with another group of diplomats? Perhaps from Turkey?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

The disappointment on her face was unmistakable.

“Let me check if Arthur updated my schedule.” He clicked a few times, eyes scanning the screen, until he finally confirmed there was nothing scheduled with any group of Turkish diplomats, and his daughter thanked him and flashed a polite tight-lipped smile.

The man took off his glasses and placed them on the desk, while her hands occupied themselves with scattered notes that were neatly arranged in piles.

“I have not failed to notice you took a recent interest on Turkey…” he says, voice soft and an open smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “There were the trips to Istanbul with Annabelle. Also, the questions about foreign politics recently… Is there a special reason?”

She shook her head in reply, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“Not long ago, you would not hesitate on sharing your concerns with me... What is troubling you, my dear?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Every time you say nothing and that you are fine, it means the opposite.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this…” Her lips rolled inside her mouth, and she stirred uncomfortably in the chair before looking back at him. “…It involves a guy.”

“Oh, are you going to tell me you are dating?” His words were accompanied by an even warmer smile, clearly amused with her coyness.

“It is about someone I knew. From before.”

“I see.”

“And you knew him too. He was a diplomat. From Turkey. By this time, you would be working together on a treaty…” she replies, fidgeting with the notes she was now rearranging. “But so many things changed… I think… that maybe, this changed too… We actually met in 2018… after mamãe and…”

Reaching for her hand, he asks softly, “You love him?”

“I do,” she admits. “Well, I did. But I fear I’m in love with the idea of a person that no longer exists… Sometimes it seems I will only be able to truly breathe again when we meet…”

“Once you asked me about your mother, and told me that if I still loved her, I should act upon my feelings. Be fearless, because doubts and regrets are not the best companions in life, you said. Perhaps, this could be your turn to take your own advice.”

“But that’s different… What do I even do? We haven’t met!”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t really know… Istanbul, I think.”

“Reach out to him.”

“What would I tell him?” she sighed and her father squeezed her hand gently and smiled.

“How about hello?”

Elizabeth chuckled, then got up and circled the table.

“I’ll let you go back to work,” she says and kisses her father’s cheek. “Thanks for listening to me. And have a good night, dad.”

“You too, Eliza.”

Returning to her chambers after that conversation, Elizabeth sat at the desk and stared at her mobile. Fingers hovered over the screen, and her mind elaborated many excuses to text an unknown man. From complimenting his cat to a cute remark about one of Istanbul’s famous landmarks.

Fifteen minutes later, however, worries smothered hope and she put it away and went to bed.

Maybe tomorrow.

For the next two days, she would check Hamid’s social media frequently, hoping for news. But there were none. The last picture posted dated from five days ago and was tagged at a restaurant at Istanbul.

One morning, despite her better judgement she liked that last picture with her official and very public profile, and tried not to think about it for the next hours. A mere heart in a photo could not disturb the balance of the universe that much.

When classes were over for the day, she fished the mobile inside her bag and checked the notifications. Amongst unread texts from her mother, Annabelle and Harry, and some missed calls, one particular notification called her attention and her hand covered a gasp. In one of her last pictures, a like from Hamid. A tiny heart that caused her very real one to beat at a similar cadence of the percussionists of a samba school.

After the initial joy, doubt crawled its way and took over.

Was it intentional? Maybe he accidentally hit the button. Or was just being polite.

Just in case, she liked another one of his pictures and waited.

An hour later, a ping and another notification from him. Hamid liked another one of her pictures. Then another when she was still holding the mobile. Her finger hovered over the follow button, then she pressed it. Hamid accepted it and liked yet another picture. This time, it was a picture from her family posted long ago.

Unable to find the necessary courage, she did not message him; however, she liked two of his old photos: one of Princess Leia, and another from his family celebrating Eid.

The mobile was lying on the desk, when it vibrated with a new notification. Something new on Hamid’s stories, and she clicked on it.

I’m definitely a stalker now...

The video showed Hamid singing the chorus of Your song, one of her favourite songs of all times, and then he changed to Girl from Ipanema, which he sang during their first outing after she told him where she lived. Dumbfolded, she watched the video twice.

That’s too much of a coincidence. Maybe I should DM him…

Clicking on his picture, she started typing.

After a lot of erasing she sent her messages and quickly regretted it, watching the app indicate he was already typing.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Almost the exact same dialogue they had before. Her hands were shaking so much she had to place the mobile down. Her fingers went to her hair and she pulled it back. There was no need to retrieve the notebook; his number never slipped her mind like so many other things, like the equation to calculate the gravitational force had.

Clicking on the small camera to video call him, it rang only once before his face was occupying the entire screen. Her breath hitched at the familiar smiling face looking directly at her. The same cheek-dimpling smile that brightened her days.

“Hamid,” she breathed his name.

“Can you please say that again?”

“Are you not listening to me?”

“You don’t know how I’ve longed to hear you call my name again,” he says softly, and his smile grows impossibly wider.

“You truly remember me?” He nodded, and she took a deep breath and fought the tears pricking her eyes. “Then why didn’t you look for me?”

“I did, but I wasn’t sure you remembered me… And until not long ago, I think it was probably illegal to do so… And butterfly effect.”

There’s a lot of undistinguished noises around him, and a robotic voice speaks in Turkish.

“Where are you?”

“Airport.”

“Where are you going?”

“To meet you.” His face disappeared when he turned the mobile away to film his surroundings and the carrying case resting in the seat beside him, where an angry cat hissed at the camera. “Leia and I are on our way.”

“I cannot believe! How did you –” the words toppled, and she interrupted herself.

“You reached out and I was sure it was the sign I was waiting for. So… here I am. You know I’ll just jump at any opportunity to travel.”

“I missed you,” she sighs.

“And I you.”

“There’s so much to tell, so many questions…”

“In about five hours we’ll see each other, but I must confess that talking will not be the priority of my tongue…” he winked at the camera, and she blushed, as she always did.

“You haven’t changed.”

“How would you recognize me if I did?”

They both chuckled and a comfort silence settled between them, as if they have not spoken to each other in years. They simply stared at the screen, and there were tears clouding their eyes.

Hamid’s face tilted with a new announcement at the speaker.

“That’s my flight they’re calling.”

He raised from the seat, balancing the backpack, carrier and the mobile.

“Have a safe trip, Hamid.”

“Thank you, hayatım,” he says softly. “Get some rest, I’ll call you when I arrive at the hotel.”

“Come to my father’s house.”

“Is it a good idea?”

“I told him about you. And I want you to meet my mother.”

“Alright.”

“Hamid!”

“Yes?”

“I love you!”

He took a deep breath, his grin almost reaching his ears, and the words flowed from his tongue as melodic as music, “Seni çok seviyorum. I love you. Eu te amo. Je t’aime – I don’t think I have the time to say that in all the ways that I’ve planned, but I will when we meet.”

The screen darkens, and she lies in bed, letting the mobile fall right next to her.

No more weight in her chest, and she can breathe – she can finally breathe and relief washes over her.

Hamid is fine.

Hamid is coming.

Hamid loves her.

Before she can fight it, slumber claimed her vision and her mind.

When her eyes flutter open, the room is completely dark, and she cannot find the mobile. Stirring under the covers, she stretches her arm to continue the search until her elbow connects with something hard.

“Ouch!”

Following the painful moan, a husky sleepy voice asks, “Did you hit my nose?”

“Hamid?”

Turning around, she hits the light switch and finally can see his face. The man blinks to adjust his vision to the brightness, and Elizabeth throws herself at him. Her hands cup his face, and his eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Oh, my God! You are really here!”

The man pulls her closer with a similar sigh of relief and kisses her with so much passion that she gasps for air when they part.

“You cannot imagine the dream I had” she sighs.

“It can’t be as weird as mine…”

“Wanna bet?” she teases. “I was fourteen again. Braces and all. And mamãe and Harry were alive… And I remembered everything of my life, which was so odd, because no one else did… And all those years I didn’t know if I was dreaming and was gonna wake up or if this life was the dream… And I missed you so much and – What?”

His face scrunched, as his fingers scratched the growing stubble on his jaw.

“Is it a couples’ thing? To have similar dreams?”

“Why you ask?”

“I dreamed I woke up at my parents’ home at Istanbul six years ago and I thought I was loosing my mind… Then, I got to read about you at the tabloids, without knowing if you remembered me, which you did, but I didn’t know then… And for years I was just wondering if I would ever have the chance to meet you again… or if I had to move on with my life… And it pained me… Specially when I saw you too soon at Istanbul. I couldn’t risk saying hello, because what if I talked to you and like the butterfly causing a typhoon I just messed everything –”

“You saw me?”

“With Annabelle.”

Her jaw dropped and she couldn’t articulate words while her mouth moved.

“It was a dream, wasn’t it?”

“I guess,” he sighed and kissed her again. “What other explanation could there be?”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and a masculine voice she was not expecting to hear startled her.

“You missed breakfast, love birds! If you don’t hurry, we’ll start opening the presents without you!”

The couple looked at each other and without changing from their pajamas, they held hands and went downstairs. They did not find the owner’s voice on their way to the drawing room, where Elizabeth and Hamid were welcomed by laughter and a soft melody.

Briar and Edmund greeted the couple, and their attention returned to the gifts they were exchanging.

Standing in the center of the room holding a box with a large red bow, Lady grandmother acknowledged their presence with a glare. “I thought you would not join us,” she says without holding back the censure in her tone.

Not missing a beat, the Earl says with a smile, that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “It is Christmas morning, mother.”

“And they are here now.”

Elizabeth’s eyes search the familiar voice, finding Maria behind her father. The woman is sitting on the couch, a blanket covers her legs, but nothing can hide the joy brightening her features. Vincent hands Harry a box, then sits beside her and holds her hand. Both smile at Harry, who is focused on the wrapping paper he was tearing apart.

Elizabeth freezes in place, tears blurring her vision.

Without a second thought, letting go of Hamid’s hand, she presses forward and kneels in front of her mother.

The troubled expression intrigues the woman, who whispers in Portuguese, “Are you alright, dear?”

Without uttering a word, Elizabeth hugs her, and the woman repeats the question.

“I had a dream... maybe I’m still dreaming… I... Sorry. Are you alright, mamãe?”

“I couldn’t be happier,” Maria replies, her famous open smile curling her lips. “Was it a good dream?”

Elizabeth meets her gaze, and lets her hand gently wipe the tear that streamed down her cheek.

“Excellent.”

“Hamid, don’t you just stand over there,” Vincent calls. “Come join us.”

“Yes, please. I have a present for you too, querido[6],” Maria says and asks Elizabeth to retrieve one of the boxes from under the tree.

Hamid shared a look with Elizabeth, whose expression mixed too many emotions, and did as they told him. As he approached the trio, his mouth curved into a smile that confusion prevented from reaching his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Hamid.” Maria handed the box to the diplomat, who thanked her politely for the token. An elegant watch. “I hope it pleases you, and remind you of the things that matter.”

“I love it. Thank you very much, my lady. However, I don’t think I have bought a gift for you,” he says, sharing a questioning look at Elizabeth who shruggs. "I’m terribly sorry.”

Taking his and Elizabeth’s hands, Maria whispers, “I have everything I could ever want.”

Her words earn a smile from Vincent, and Elizabeth could not agree more. At last, they have everything that matters.

===============

Notes:

[1] Rabanada – Portuguese word – Sweet traditionally served in Brazil during the holidays, and consists of bread that, after being soaked in milk, wine or sugar syrup, is passed through eggs is fried or baked in oven, and is served sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.

[2] Brigadeiro – Portuguese word – a Brazilian dessert made of chocolate.

[3] Meu amor – Portuguese – It’s a term of endearment and means ‘my love’.

[4] Hayatım – Turkish – a term of endearment that means ‘my life’.

[5] Mamãe - Portuguese – term of endearment that means ‘mother, mum, mummy.’

[6] Querido – Portuguese – a term of endearment that means ‘dear’.

#cfwc nerd week #desire and decorum au #prince hamid #briar daly #annabelle parsons #edmund marlcaster #earl vincent #dowager countess #prince hamid x oc #oc: elizabeth foredale #choices fanfic #minor character death

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lorirwritesfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

The Order of The Five Kingdoms: In His Honor

Author's note: A long time ago, my dear friend @myclevernamehere asked me to write a Superheroes AU for Leo x Madeleine. So here I am, several months later posting it for CFWC Nerd Week. It took me forever to finish but I hope you all have fun reading. [Leading characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios and original characters are creations of the author]

Book: The Royal Romance x Rules of Engagement Pairings: Leo Rys x Madeleine Amaranth, Liam Rys x MC (Jade) Rating: M Word count: Summary: Dark Ivy (Madeleine) is on a mission to save Black Dragon (Leo) from making a reckless decision to seek revenge from his father’s death and avoiding a natural disaster that can destroy the duchy of Valtoria. Based on the prompt: CFWC Nerd Week - day one: Superheroes / AU-Gust Writing Challenge - day eight: Superheroes/Superpowers AU

Warning: This piece contains adult material (violence and unhealthy coping mechanisms to handle grief) that may be disturbing/offensive for some people. Reader discretion is advised.

County of Fydelia

Birds chirped inside the nest on the biggest laurel oak of the main sqaure while Madeleine sat on a large branch with her binoculars. Stakeouts hardly were an activity she'd do willingly, though she was proud to be known for her abilities to be an excellent spy. Disobeying her new leader's orders, however, would mean not to be in his good graces, which wasn't something she wanted. So she acquiesced. Besides, given how complicated things were after her former leader's death, she knew somebody had to keep an eye on Black Dragon and patrol the city.

Pearls of sweat ran down her face as she scanned her surroundings. Everything seems just the same as it has always been in the capitol, despite the slight changes on the weather, nothing seemed unusual to her. The tremors in the area near the castle on the same night King Constantine passed away may have raised suspicions about seismic activities in different places of the kingdom, but most likely it was just a natural reaction of nature to the loss of its leader. On that particular morning, nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

"Horde, report to the Tower." The new leader's calm voice rumbled on the earpiece.

"Yes, sir," she replied at the same time as the others.

"I need status update of the kingdom."

"North is calm, sir," Hawk answered.

"South is calm too," Grey Wolf replied.

"Sea cost is clear, sir," Squid Master added.

"And the mountains?" Golden Dragon asked.

"Temperature is still high, but it has dropped four degrees. Scarlet Fox hasn't reported any new seismic activities in Lythikos. No smoke is coming from the Mountain Greaves," Lotus Tiger informed.

"Good. Dark Ivy?

"Yes, sir."

"Any news about him?"

"No, sir."

"Dammit..." The Golden Dragon grumbled.

Nobody else said a word. The members of Five Kingdoms Horde knew their leader was still struggling with the loss of his father and his job certainly didn't get any easier when his older brother stormed off the funeral to search for Constantine's murderer. To say things were tough in Cordonia would be an understatement.

The Young King suddenly went quiet as a velvet female voice muttered something inaudible in the background. Though Madeleine's usual response to the voice would be to roll her eyes, this time, she sighed in relief. She may not like the future queen nor the fact that she has gained some many powers in such short period of time, but if Jade could use her skills to calm the leader, so be it. The stability of the kingdom always came first.

The king cleared his throat before speaking. "Thank you for the update, everyone. Back to your positions."

"Yes, sir." All five members of the Horde replied in unison.

Madeleine adjusted her binoculars lens when one of the birds landed on it, its feathers blocking her vision. "Shoo! Shoo!" She waved her hand and pushed the animal away, but it insisted on staying in front of her. "Get out of my sight, you useless creature!" Still the animal wouldn't budge.

She pulled the binoculars away from her face and looked down to see a young boy laughing. With that, Madeleine effortlessly went down the tree and stood before the kid, who tried to run. Using her powers, she unleashed her branches that snaked around the boy and pulled him back. "Lord Devereaux!" She scolded.

"Ow! Let me go!"

"I'll let you go when I see fit." She gripped the vines tighter around him. "What are you doing sending that bird to disturb my investigation?"

The little lord started cackling.

"So you think this is funny?" She pursed her lips. "Does your mother, Countess Cecile of Lykos, know you walk around the city interfering in Royal matters?"

The boy gulped. "N-no, ma'am."

"Then why are you?!" She bellowed.

"I'm sorry, Dark Ivy! I just did what Black Dragon paid me to do. Please don't tell my mom!" The kid begged.

Madeleine shook her head. "Ugh, Leo..." She grumbled. "Where did he go?"

"I- I don't know..." The kid frowned.

"Really?" She produced her phone from her pocket and started tapping the screen. "Let's see what your mother thinks about you using your powers to prank the people who serve the Crown."

"Okay, okay!" The boy pleaded. "I saw Black Dragon taking a path to Valtoria."

"Did he say anything else?"

"No...?"

"Hmm... It's been a while since I talked to Lady Cecile. Maybe I'll give her a call to catch up and keep her up to speed." She tapped the screen one more time and pressed her phone against her ear.

"All right!" The kid yelled.

"What did Black Dragon say?"

"He told me to do this to distract you because he has unfinished business with the Vulture. But I thought it was weird. I don't know who this Vulture is."

"Unfortunately, I do," she said, releasing the kid.

"Horde, I need backup! Is anyone near Valtorian Highlands?" Hana's voice came on the earpiece.

"I'm near the border, Lotus Tiger. What's going on?" Madeleine answered.

"We just detected seismic activity near Mountain Greaves. It could be a regular activity related to nature still mourning the Silver Dragon, but it’s been over a week and the tremors are getting stronger. We think it could be..."

"The Black Dragon," Madeleine concluded.

"Yes," Hana answered.

"Shit..." Drake grumbled.

"Grey Wolf, go meet the Squid Master by the shore. I'm flying to Valtoria with the Hawk to reinforce backup," the King commanded.

"Copy that," Drake replied.

"Lotus Tiger, do what you can to isolate the area. Dark Ivy, can you handle him?"

"Yes, sir."

"Golden Dragon, don't you think maybe The Phoenix could help?" Maxwell asked.

"No," the king replied.

"Sir, but this is her duchy. Maybe with her connection to Valtorian Highlands, we could—"

"I said no." Liam cut Hana off hastily, raising his voice just enough to be commanding, but not rude.

"Copy that, sir."

"I'll meet you all as soon as possible."

Once the Horde and Tower conversation ended, Madeleine scanned her surroundings one last time then glanced at the little boy, who now seemed scared. "Lord Devereaux, go home."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tell the guards to keep civilians away from the borders and roads that lead to Valtoria."

"Dark Ivy, did something bad happen?" The kid frowned.

"No." She adjusted her suit and stared to the top of the mountain, from where a sheer smoke escaped from the Heart Mountain. "But it's about to."

Duchy of Valtoria

As soon as Madeleine crossed the borders to arrive in Valtoria, the countess went straight to Highlands, where she found Hana suited up and pacing on the meadow, as if waiting for someone to show up.

"Thank you for coming, Dark Ivy," Hana said after releasing a sigh, probably in relief.

"No problem. I saw smoke on my way here. Are there any new seismic activities here?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Temperature doesn't stop rising and a few citizens felt small tremors last night. But most of the complaints came after this morning's earthquake. The seismology team didn't find anything in particular that could point to natural activity."

"This is definitely Leo's doing." Madeleine shook her head. "Any signs of him here?"

"Not really. You know how stealthy he is. Our best chance is somebody with an emotional connection to him to track him down."

Madeleine made a face as the other lady looked at her expectantly. "What?"

"You were engaged to him. It has to mean something to him."

The countess scoffed. "Don't fool yourself, Hana. That was years ago. I can't feel his presence, which means he probably doesn't even want to see me."

"Maybe he tried to break the connection because he can feel you tracking him down?"

"I don't think so. Leo only has real emotional connections with Liam, Bastien, Queen Regina and Maxwell."

"What do we do until they arrive here? It'll take at least forty five minutes to get here. Who knows what can happen until we find Leo?"

"Call the Phoenix. She can use her connection to the land to find Leo and buy us some time some time until Liam arrives."

"Madeleine, we can't..." Hana grimaced. "You know what Liam said about getting her involved in this investigation."

"But Jade is our best shot. She can teleport here. She can control the Highlands. Liam should have listened to Maxwell or you."

"He has a point. Jade is still in trainment and she got ill the last time she overused her powers."

"But it wouldn't hurt to try..." The queen-to-be approached the ladies as she pushed the hood covering her head.

"Jade! How—" Hana stopped herself then proceeded. "You can't be here. You should be resting!"

"It's sweet of you to worry about me, Hana, but give me some credit. I helped saving almost everyone in the last assassination attempt," the duchess of Valtoria said with a weak smile.

"Do you see what I mean?" Madeleine gestured to the Phoenix. "She's not going to break, Hana."

"Jade, the last time you passed out from exhaustion. You're still recovering. You know how Liam feels about you fighting before you learn how to have full control of your powers." Hana frowned as she tried to reason with her friend.

"Yeah, but I'll be fine. Connecting myself with my own duchy won't do me any harm. Besides, these are desperate times. We can't wait until Liam arrives."

"Thank you!" Madeleine exclaimed in exasperation. "That's what I've been trying to tell everyone on my way here. But clearly I reached out to the wrong members of the Order."

"You'd be surprised to know what I do when I worry about someone I love," Jade implied as she looked down at her engagement ring. "But I see your point. We have no time to waste."

With that, Jade crouched down and placed her hands on the floor. A sudden gust of wind circled the region. Flames sparkled from the duchess's eyes as she spoke in a monotonous tone, lost in trance. "They're here... Black Dragon has the Vulture cornered near the peak of Mountain Greaves."

"I knew it," Madeleine scowled. "We have to stop him."

The Phoenix closed her eyes and inhaled deeply when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Jade?" Hana called, gazing at her friend in worry.

The duchess snapped out of her trance. "Grief is consuming Leo. He wants revenge. And he won't stop. Madeleine, you have to go now."

"On it. Hana, you take the—"

"No." Jade looked up at Madeleine. "You have to do this alone. You still have a connection with him. I can feel it. Appeal to the side of him only you know."

"I—" Madeleine trailed off in shock.

The countess's astonishment didn't go unnoticed by Jade, who continued to persuade her. "You said you were tired of being a second class member of the Order. Well, this is your chance to prove you're better."

"Madeleine, go. I'll stay here with Jade to gather strength to reduce the effects of the earthquakes until Liam and Horde arrive." Hana then glanced at the top of Mount Greaves, from where more smoke escaped.

"Alright," Madeleine nodded to both ladies and ran as fast as she could, hoping it was too late to stop a possible disaster.

Ashes slowly fell on the dark soil at top of Mountain Greaves. Anton struggled to steady himself as Leo pushed him forward, towards the peak of the mountain. Yet, he didn't see it as a defeat. He hit a nerve on the former crown prince. Even if he died, he was sure his mission to take Rys family down still would be accomplished.

"What are you smiling about?!" Leo snarled and tightened the chains around Anton's limbs, binding him from using the Vulture's powers.

"I don't think you have the guts to kill me, Your no longer Highness." Anton smirked. "If you wanted to, you would have done it when you found me in the cave."

"Just killing you isn't enough." Leo pulled the chains once again, making his nemesis wince. "I had to torture you, watch you contort in pain, then I'm going to do it all over again until you beg me to push you into the same volcano you got your powers from."

"Funny how pathetic someone can be when they're led by emotions." Anton snorted. "Constantine was a corrupt leader, a terrible father and an awful human being. But you still want bloodshed just because your daddy got what he deserved."

A thick smoke came out of the crater when Leo scowled and grabbed Anton by the throat, lifting him up effortlessly. "If you say another word, I will break alll your fucking bones, you piece of shit," he hissed.

Just then, a familiar voice chanted. "I wouldn't doubt him if I were you." Madeleine's voice cut through the thin air. "Leo has a thing for inflicting pain."

Leo's head snapped to the side and his eyes went wide as he stared at his ex-fiancee approaching the top of the mountain. "What are you doing here?!"

"I'm hoping you come to your senses before you do something you will regret for the rest of your life."

"You know, that's exactly what I was telling him before you arrived, Dark Ivy..." Anton jeered.

"Shut up!" Leo yelled, tightening his grip on Anton's neck. The floor trembled at the sound of his voice.

"Black Dragon, this isn't you..." Madeleine insisted as she did her best to steady herself. "You're not a murderer. You care about people, you have the gift to lighten up the mood anywhere you walk into. You're so much better than this."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Dark Ivy. After all, you said it yourself I like to inflict pain on other people," Leo replied, taking a few more steps closer to the crater.

Leo's grip on Anton's neck loosened up as Madeleine continued to speak. "Do you remember when you told me about not feeling ready to be king? It was pouring at the capitol and we were watching the rain fall when you said you weren’t running away from your responsibilities like I assumed you were. You just wanted..."

"...The best for the kingdom I was born and raised in," Leo completed her sentence as his blue eyes went glossy.

Suddenly, another gust of wind blew, dissipating the smoke coming from the mountain. Dark clouds began to form near the region, ready to wash away the air still filled with volcanic ashes.

"I was selfish when I yelled at you that day. But you stayed true to yourself. You gave up your birthright because you knew you weren't destined to the Golden Dragon. You did the right thing the whole time and you made your father proud."

Tears fell down his face as he gazed at her.

"I know you're hurt. I still can feel your pain. But your revenge will cause a disaster in Valtoria and you'll hurt the kingdom, your loved ones. And I know you don't want to hurt them."

A drizzle softly touched Madeleine's suit. She looked down the meadow near the Highlands and spotted Liam enveloping Jade into an embrace, giving her strength to avoid another earthquake. She then looked back at Leo still holding Anton.

"Release him," she said, placing a hand on Leo's shoulder. "The Order is here. They'll handle the Vulture."

Leo put Anton down and released his enemy, who snickered. "How touching... I almost shed a year. Now if you excuse me, I have other things to do."

"You must be really dumb if you think you can escape," Drake called from the back.

"You can surrender now or the Order can chase you down. But it won't take long. As you see, you're trapped." Madeleine pointed to the dome created by Bastien that surrounded the Highlands.

Anton rolled his eyes, lifted up big hands and walked towards Drake, who pulled him by the wrists and dragged him down.

Madeleine turned to Leo, who sat on the floor lost in thought as he gazed at the breathtaking land he almost destroyed. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe I almost ruined everything…Maddie, if you didn’t show up, I don’t know...” He trailed off and took a deep breath. “I thought if I killed Anton, I could make the pain go away…”

The countess sat beside him and stared at the clouded sky. “It’s okay to miss your father. You’re not the only one who does. And you don’t have to be alone while you mourn him.”

Leo draped an arm over her shoulder and the two of them remained in silence as they watched the rain wash away the ashes from the sky.

#choices fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #rules of engagement fanfic #leo rys #madeleine amaranth #leo x madeleine #liam rys #liam x mc #cfwc nerd week #lorirwritesfanfic #lorircreates #tw grief #tw violence

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choicesficwriterscreations · 1 year ago

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December Creator of the Month: Oh-So-Youre-a-Nerd

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists, and this month’s creator of the month is @oh-so-youre-a-nerd . We're very excited because Ascindio is our very first artist to be highlighted! We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Instagram

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?

Ascindio

More below...

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I started playing in 2016, I can't remember if I read Endless Summer or Rules of Engagement first, but I ended up deleting the app after like 2 weeks cause I couldn't stop buying diamonds 😅🤦

I re-downloaded it about, ohh idk 2 years ago?

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Fandom specifically on Tumblr and specifically for It Lives Within, which happened to come out right after I read the first two books

3- How did you pick your blog name?

I always try to seem cool and mysterious when I meet people irl, and then as soon as I open my mouth, I ruin it with some niche trivia or something, and they say, “Oh, so you're a nerd.” 😂 Can't tell you how many times this exact phrase has been uttered to me.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

This is the first Choices related post I made 😂 I was just thinking about the concept of what if characters make terrible decisions cause they're controlled by a player who is out of diamonds lol I was going to do a whole series of them (next was going to be lotr “fly on eagles to mordor?” *30 diamonds* or “simply walk”) but got lazy lol

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

Only art. God, I WISH I wrote too. I've thought about trying cause I have so many ideas floating around in my head, but at the end of the day, I'd rather spend my free time drawing.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

For Choices, since early 2022

For other fandoms, since well, forever, but I only started posting around 2017/18

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

Favorite Choices book is probably It Lives in the Woods. All of the characters were so interesting, I never got bored reading it, and it had an incredible twist that made sense but I still didn't see coming.

Favorite to create for is probably Blades of Light and Shadow though because I am such a sucker for the fantasy aesthetic.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?.

This isn't the first Choices art I made, but it IS the first I actually shared

And honestly, I DO still like it because I still remember the way I felt absolutely POSSESSED while drawing it (I hadn't drawn anything for *months*). I would definitely change the background, though. Those trees look like shit, and they're not even the correct type for the kind of forest they're in.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

My favorite Choices art I've done is probably this piece.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I definitely didn't expect this one to do well at all as it was so hastily drawn

And I was sad this piece didn't get more love, it was such a dope scene and I was so excited about how the sword turned out

11- If you could only draw one style or type of art for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

I'm not sure if I'm interpreting the question right, but if I had to pick like a specific type of art, it would be digital, and I would want to do fan art. I have a hard time painting anything that I don't already have a deep connection with (so original art with no story behind it is usually a chore for me), and digital art is just so incredibly convenient and not messy and so so versatile.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Because I use fiction as a way to safely process trauma/ grief/ other big emotions, each MC I make has a small part of me, whichever part I feel the need to explore at the time.

There's an amazing quote by Patrick Rothfuss that I feel explains it perfectly.

It's from Wise Man's Fear

“These folk knew all about death. They killed their own livestock. They died from fevers, falls, or broken bones gone sour. Death was like an unpleasant neighbor. You didn’t talk about him for fear he might hear you and decide to pay a visit.

Except for stories, of course. Tales of poisoned kings and duels and old wars were fine. They dressed death in foreign clothes and sent him far from your door. A chimney fire or the croup cough were terrifying. But Gibea’s trial or the siege of Enfast, those were different. They were like prayers, like charms muttered late at night when you were walking alone in the dark. Stories were like ha’penny amulets you bought from a peddler, just in case.”

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

I have a very difficult time making the poses seem natural and flowing. My all time favorite art is Baroque/Renaissance style and how fluid the poses are, how soft the skin looks, how delicately it's all done. Obviously, I will always have my own style, but those are things that I so want to incorporate but never seem to get quite right, and it drives me crazy 😂

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Not really. I mean, I have a ton of unfinished work, but as soon as the window of inspiration passes, I just can't get myself to care enough about it to finish it (insert Jake the Dog, “now it's gone, and I don't care about it anymore!” )

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

I would, and have. I typically show them whatever most rendered recent picture from my Instagram because I don't post any nsfw there and usually try to post only my prettier work for this specific reason haha. (As opposed to here, I post everything here, ain't NO ONE from real life invited to see my tumblr 😂)

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

Writers: Brandon Sanderson, for sure. He's the reason I got back into art back in 2017 ish. His stories are just so emotional they push me to create. Same with @saibug1022, there is always at least one scene from every story he shares that I desperately want to draw to try to capture the emotions.

Artists: God, sooo many, here are just like my top 3 favorites and their instagrams.

Audra Auclair

Obsessed with her unique style, and specifically the way she draws eyelids and noses

f3lc4t

The way they draw those dripping, glowing wisps. I stare at their pieces for hours (no lie) trying to dissect them stroke by stroke to figure out how they do it.

Miho Hirano

Their art has a delicate whimsy-ness I would SELL MY SOUL to achieve

17- Which one of your creations would you like to see a fiction written about?

JC, this is the shit I DREAM of.

Definitely this one.

So this is love.

This little comic means a lot to me.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

Very rarely, but I do, every so often. This is my favorite original piece.

20- What other hobbies do you have?

Gaming, singing, walking through the Cemetary with my wee daughter, reading, that's about it 🤷

21 - What’s your favorite emoji?

🙇

22: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

I really wanted to say that I don't believe in “good” art and “bad” art (just ethical vs non-ethical). That being said, I know what it's like to hate your art, like soooo intimately. If you ever are feeling shit about your art, you can ABSOLUTELY message me (I don't care if we're mutuals or not, I don't care if we've never interacted before) and just say, “I am feeling shit about my art” and I will go through your art and tell you every specific thing I love about it and why it's wonderful. I am not joking; I am so so serious rn. 💗💗💗💗

#choices fic writers creations #playchoices #choices stories you play #cfwc creator of the month #oh-so-youre-a-nerd #choices fanart #playchoices fanart #december creator of the month

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appiomofchoice · 4 years ago

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Attack of the BloomBots

Note: I meant to have this done for Tech Day for CFWC Nerd Week, but I misremembered the days. Yikes. Anyway. This is essentially a joke, and I hope it makes sense, but I’ve had this dumb idea floating in my head since the start of Book 3.

Series: Open Heart

Pairings: Bryce x MC (Darcy)

Word Count: 490

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Alludes to violence and death off-screen.

Synopsis: Darcy and Bryce seek refuge from a robot apocalypse.

Tagging: @lucy-268 @mvalentine @seriouslybadchoices @anotherbeingsworld @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @lahellacute

Darcy ran into the residents' lounge and slammed the door shut, panting as she leaned against the wood. She didn't weigh enough to hold it. Not against them. Not against him.

Oh, God. How had this happened?

A frantic knock came at the door, then a jiggle of the doorknob, and a voice she thought she would never hear again:

"C'mon, let me in---"

"Bryce?" she called.

"Darcy?"

She flung open the door, and he rushed inside, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her so deeply that she nearly forgot about the world collapsing around them.

"It's really you," she whispered as she pulled away briefly, holding his handsome face in her hands.

"Hey, I'm one of a kind, baby," said Bryce with a grin. "No BloomBot could imitate all this."

She kissed him again. If she had doubts before, she didn't now. "Help me with the couch?"

They worked together to lift the couch and other heavy furniture in front of the door, barricading it. She didn't know if it would be enough. She didn't know if they were safe there, or anywhere. But with Bryce beside her, she felt her panic subside.

"Have you heard from the others?" she asked.

"No. But the Army's on its way. Naveen said so, before..."

He didn't finish. He didn't need to.

Darcy laid her head on his shoulder, the weight of it all suddenly too much. "Do you think they'll get here in time?"

"They will," he murmured, turning to press his lips to her forehead. "We've got so much more ahead of us, you and me."

"Oh yeah?" She lifted her eyes to meet his, feeling hope for the first time since that morning.

"A big wedding on the beach, obviously," said Bryce, linking his fingers through hers. "Attending jobs, major awards and publications, ten kids---"

"Ten?"

He grinned. "You want even more of my babies? Can't say I'm surprised."

"Try three, max," she laughed.

"As long as you're there with me, it doesn't matter," he said, his look turning tender. "This doesn't end here, Darcy."

She raised her hands to his face to pull him into a soft kiss, which quickly grew heated. She'd been so certain that he was gone. The BloomBots had gone for the surgeons first, to use them to rewire the rest---or to determine the task impossible, in which case...

That he was here with her, that they'd escaped Bloom and his army led by Binx---it was a miracle. And in spite of the hope he'd inspired inside of her, she had no intention of wasting another minute with her body not pressed against his.

But before the kiss could progress into anything more, there came a loud beeping inside the room:

"Two humans detected," blared a robotic voice. "Residents' lounge. Fourth floor. Assimilation process...initiated."

Oh no.

They'd forgotten about the cappuccino machine.

#cfwc nerd week #open heart #mc x bryce #bryce lahela

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missameliep · 4 years ago

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Desire&Decorum&Zombies - Part 1

Book: Desire and Decorum - AU Characters: Lady Catherine (MC); Briar Daly; Miss Parsons. Rating: M Warnings: mentions to death (non-descriptive); minor characters’ death. Word count: 3k

Summary: Before her death, Catherine’s mother Mary tells her a secret: her father is alive and is a nobleman living not faraway from the village of Grovershire where she grew up. The beginning of a new chapter in Catherine’s life can also be the last one, when she moves to a manor surrounded by secrets.

Notes: * All characters belong to PixelBerry. * The story takes place in the same universe and time that Desire and Decorum - Book 1, and is inspired by some of its events, but it does not follow the same chronology and there are zombies. So, it’s a little bit different. * English is not my first language. * This is my very late submission to CFWC Nerd Week - Prompt: Day 4 - Supernatural. Thank you for hosting this event @choicesficwriterscreations and again congratulations on the blog’s 1st anniversary!

I, Lady Catherine, heiress of Edgewater, am dead.

I have not died or being killed. Yet, I no longer exist as the woman I was before.

The elegant marble from the tombstone will whisper my name to whoever comes to the small cemetery in the back of Edgewater’s chapel until moss claims the whiteness of the cold stone. The epitaph will remind them of my courage and my existence. Perhaps, many years from now, the name Foredale might be forgotten, and Edgewater might meet its ruination, yet my name and this epitaph will still be here as a memento of the things that passed in this year of 1816.

Death freed me and my freedom allows me to tell you my story.

Why, might you ask, should one tell a story from their own grave? Is death not the end of us all?

That is an absolutely pertinent question.

This tale could have started years ago, perhaps in my childhood. I could have focused on sunny days running with my friend Briar through the meadows at Grovershire and all our shenanigans, instead. I could dwell on the time the sweet voice of my mother, who I miss greatly, filled the nights at the little cottage with music, easing the days of privation and the ache from the extenuating work while we tried to survive each winter.

Nevertheless, dear reader, for reasons yet to be explained, I will tell you the story of the events that led to my death. Bear in mind, that in extremely rare occasions, once one dies, they truly start living.

And without a shadow of doubt, I can avow I am one of those exceptions – a more than fortunate exception.

My arrival at Edgewater estate marks the beginning of this tale.

Death loomed since 1811, and in a spring day in 1816, she claimed my beloved mother at last. Before she expired her last breath, a confession brought from the dead a man I never expected to meet. A promise in one’s death bed cannot be broken, despite the lies that stung one’s heart; therefore, I accepted the arrangements that were made without my knowledge.

A father who was not only alive after all, but was an Earl, living less than a day away from the tiny village where I grew up, would come to my rescue in my hour of need. In a surprising twist of fate, the poor seamstress daughter from Grovershire would exchange the modest cottage at the outskirts of the village for a grand estate.

In spite of my initial fears and mistrust, I packed my scarce earthly possessions: a few clothes, my mother’s winter coat and sewing tools, and the dagger we kept under our mattress.

Fortunately, I did not walk this path alone. Briar, whose loyalty and kindness I can never repay, no matter how much I try, joined me. Accompanying the trusted servant sent by my father, she held my hand as I started my journey to a new life. To start my own fairy-tale, some would say. Even I believe in that for an instant. The Earl of Edgewater embraced me, called me daughter and I was home. I was given a roof, a new name and a family.

My father and his estate were beyond anything my mind could have ever envisioned. The first, a kind and compassionate man, whose heart had been dilacerated by the recent loss of his son. The pain etched in his face softened with each smile he offered me. My existence alone, before even meeting me, filled him with joy and hope; he told me more than once during our short time together that I was responsible for mending his shattered heart. Regretfully, I never had the chance to tell he did the same to mine.

About the second, I testify the tales did not live up to the grandeur of what laid before my eyes. The magnificence of its façade and the luxurious decoration of each room amazed me. My calloused fingers grazed the plush velvet unrivaled by any of the gowns my mother ever sewn. My wide eyes roamed, taking everything in with unmatched curiosity, while my feet carried me around in my explorations whenever I had the chance.

With the passing days, I quickly stumbled on the locked doors and forbidden rooms, and discovered that, like many other ancient manors in England, Edgewater's walls guarded its very own secrets…

The chambers prepared for me at the second floor were the definition of opulence.

Luxury fabrics covered the walls and hung from the canopy bed. Fillets of gold reflected the lights of the many candles. So many candles! More than we would use an entire year at home, and not the kind that fills your room with suffocating smoke. The flames in the fireplace crackled, casting a radiant golden glow around. Light and warmth contrasting with the cold darkness embracing the entire world outside.

Lux and amenities unfamiliar to two lasses from a modest village like myself and Briar. Like ill-behaved children we ran around, hands touching everything, sniffing recipients of perfume and opening and closing every door and drawer, coming across exquisite treasures, such as gloves made of the finest silk carefully arranged in lines, and magnificent dresses hung at the wardrobe, that stole mine and Briar’s breaths.

After we tired of our messing around, Briar helped me get ready for my first dinner, which was nothing like I expected – even though I did not expect a friendly welcome, I at least hoped for politeness. However, aristocratic blood and wealth don’t go hand-in-hand with politeness, integrity, or other attributes commonly praised on such individuals, like knowing the Countess and many other peers taught me.

“I don’t know how I shall endure spending even a minute with the Countess tomorrow,” I sighed while Briar unlaced the corset, after helping me out of my dress. “What a wicked woman! If you heard what she said at dinner… I was polite, and she so rude!”

“Every good fairytale has its evil witch,” Briar replied, biting back an improper giggle. “Now we only need to find you a nice-looking prince.”

“I don’t think princes marry natural daughters.”

“They do, when they meet you,” Briar said with a smile and handed me the brush. “You are a lady now!”

Instead of the adjoining room, I invited Briar to stay and share the bed as we did at summer nights at the Daly’s home.

We lied together and, amongst giggles, shared our impressions about the inhabitants of that strange new world, from the aristocratic family members to the servants, helping each other to get familiar with the names and routine.

“You should’ve seen the buzz in the kitchen when I arrived…”

“I was not expecting this much gossip…”

“An unexpected daughter arriving at the house is not reason enough for the whisperings and curiosity? Have you forgotten how the townspeople would be whenever a newcomer arrived? This is beyond compare!”

“Perhaps you are right.”

“I am always right.” She giggled and I nudged her side.

“And speaking of gossip, may I know who caught your eyes: the prim Mr. Sinclaire of Ledford Park, or Mr. Harper, the handsome stable boy?”

“Mr. Harper is the Master of horses, not a stable boy,” I corrected her.

“And a very bold man, I might add. Taking you away from the manor unescorted at night…”

“He did not take me. I’ve chosen to go with him. And he is a respectful man. A perfect gentleman, actually, despite the lack of a title.”

“I got my answer, alright,” she snorted with laughter, “I wonder what your family shall say about this...”

My reply was silenced by the loud creak of a floorboard. Both hushed with the possibility of someone eavesdropping, or worse the imminence of someone walking in and catching Briar there and not in her room.

“Odd,” I whispered to my friend when no one came to the door. “I thought everybody would be sleeping by now.”

“Not everybody, apparently...”

“Who could it be?”

“I don’t know and am too tired to care,” Briar said, pulling the covers up to our chins. “Now, sleep.”

A heavy thump over our heads cut through the silence, followed by more thumps and scratching noises.

“Did you hear that?” I asked Briar, who was quietly lying beside me.

“It is probably the wind,” she replied. “Maybe branches blown against the windows…”

“Sounds like footsteps,” I whispered, “But why would anyone be at the attic at this time?”

“Perhaps a servant had to retrieve something... Or there are mice.”

“Mice? They must be the size of dogs then!”

The scratching sounds were followed by an eerie wail. The candle by the bedside table cast a soft yellow glow which is enough to illuminate the fear on Briar’s face, and mine was probably just the same. We shared a look and stared at the ceiling. Our tongues did not speak about the fear that caused our hearts to race.

“Do you think someone could be outside planning to harm us?”

“Are you trying to scare me, Cathy?”

“Not at all,” I said in a serious tone. “I truly worry. We do not know this people. And you overheard Mr. Woods saying the Countess wants me out of here.”

“Wishing and acting upon something are entirely different things.”

After a few more ragged breaths, the sounds faded and, relieved, we fell asleep. Heavy objects knocked to the ground woke me up an hour later, however Briar chided when I moved in the bed to get up to investigate.

“I’m too tired, Cathy,” she murmured, “I need to sleep. And so do you.”

“How can I, if there is a mystery of some sort happening as we speak?”

“Don’t let your imagination take over, my friend... This is not one of your books and this house is probably just as ordinary as all the others, just huger. You will be embarrassed to learn the mundane explanations to those noises… Someone who sleepwalks, a stray cat… the wind.”

I obliged, but did not sleep again until it was almost day and exhaustion claimed my eyes.

The following nights were the same. Strange noises invading my slumber, or the anticipation about them kept me on my toes. Waiting. Wondering. My curiosity and fear created the most sickening scenarios. After Briar learned the Countess was the only one with keys to the attic, I feared she could be the one at the attic. Perhaps, my stepmother was an actual witch, who spent the nights with evil machinations and cooking spells above our heads.

“Perhaps, the Countess is a witch –” I whispered.

“Definitely,” Briar agreed.

“�� What if she’s cooking some spell upstairs.”

“What spell could be so loud to prepare?” Briar teased.

“I don’t know… I fear I don’t have an extensive knowledge on witchcraft.”

“But we know people with riches are concerned with status and afraid of harmful gossip. Why would your stepmother risk us knowing about her secret of all people?”

“What if she wants me to know?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know yet. But I shall find out.”

By the end of the week of my arrival, my curiosity peaked. Once Mr. Woods confirmed the Countess had left to pay a visit, I rushed to the end of the corridor upstairs, and Briar followed suit.

“Only the Countess has the keys to the attic,” Briar whispered while I fidgeted with the lock, “you know that.”

“You can easily open it, if you want,” I gave her a knowing look, and she frowned.

“We’re not picking locks today, Cathy…” she stated and pushed me around. “You must get downstairs. Miss Parsons is visiting today.”

And so, I did. I would have time later to investigate, and Miss Parsons’ company was always delightful. From her I learned more about this new world, the family that took me in and skills my grandmother considered essential to find a good match. Though, I suspected from the first days after meeting her, marriage was no ambition of hers.

After spending a few moments with the Dowager Countess at the drawing room, the two of us went for a stroll around the gardens that morning to enjoy the little sun that struggled to shine. The sky was grey, but there was no rain. An insistent wind twirled our hair and shawls and plucked leaves from the trees. Nothing however that could disturb our cheerful conversation. While my eyes followed the flight of magpies, something else caught my attention near the house.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?” Miss Parsons asked, confusion erasing the smile on her lips.

“There was a blonde man right there!” I pointed at one of the windows of the attic. “What is he doing there?”

Miss Parsons stopped and squinted her eyes, trying to see what I insisted on pointing.

“I see nothing,” she said at last. “Are you certain it was not a bird or perhaps the light reflecting on the glass?”

“I am quite certain. It was a man. With blonde hair.”

“How can you even see this much from here?” she pondered. “The windows are mostly covered with wooden planks...”

“You doubt me?” I inquired. “I know what I saw. It was a face.”

Miss Parsons looked at me and smiled. A gesture of her hand, and I approached to listen to the conspiratorial tone she adopted despite us being faraway from the manor and prying eyes.

“Miss Sutton says Edgewater is haunted. Perhaps that was one of the ghosts.”

“Excuse me?”

“My dear, has she not shared with you her fantastic tales about the ghosts that haunt the house?”

“No, I have not been aware of those beliefs of her,” I replied, my eyes fixed at her face. “Is it possible?”

“Are you asking me if I believe Edgewater is haunted?” she asked without hiding her amusement.

“Perhaps. I do not know what else to think. The noises from the attic keep me awake every night...”

“Very well,” she said, joining her arm with mine and we turned away from the house, “The Dowager Countess certainly would not approve this conversation but… There are plenty of unexplainable things in this world. Books register many facts and legends. Perhaps the existence of ghosts is not the most eccentric belief one could have. Do you believe in ghosts, my friend?”

“Not until recently. Though I believe there is something wrong happening at Edgewater… I did not dismiss a supernatural explanation yet.”

“As far as I can tell, even though I have not witnessed with my very own eyes, a disturbing number of English manors have their own tales of horror and claim to house spirits with unfinished businesses…” Miss Parsons bites back a laugh, and breaths, “When it comes to Edgewater… it certainly houses an evil witch! Therefore, I would not be surprised if ghosts lived under that roof as well and even a few more entities!” Demurely, her hand covered the laugh before it echoed too loud and inappropriate for a lady like herself.

“You should not mock the supernatural!” I chided in a low tone, and she apologized, still fighting the laughter erupting from her chest.

“Did my brother tell you anything about ghosts? Or about his mother?”

“Harry was very skeptical about this sort of things. And I don’t believe he would tell me or anyone if his mother was an actual witch. Trust me. No children would normally turn in a parent. Witchcraft is still punishable with imprisonment. And even death depending on who accuses you and what you are accused of…”

“From where I came, there were many stories… When I was a little girl, there were rumors about an elderly lady who lived alone in a chalet by the river. People used to say she poisoned the children of the villages she lived in before, and cursed the crops… After the village was hit by a frost, she was killed one night and her house was burnt to the ground…” I trailed off and didn’t mention how my mother cried her death.

“Was she a real witch?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Probably not… There are so many tales, it is hard to tell…”

Miss Parsons went quiet for a long moment, and I regretted telling her the story.

“If she wasn’t, what an unjust end…” she sighed.

“Indeed. From where I came, there are many stories and fear. Changelings. Witches. Zombies. We follow strict rules to shield us from the supernatural. Even the ones who consider it foolish superstition do it anyway…”

“Don’t we all?” she inquired. “The luxury around us hides narrow and superstitions minds too… Bishop Monroe was trained by the Archbishop of Canterbury himself and at Sunday services he exhibits the ceremonial sword. He said it’s the same he used to decapitate the former Earl of Edgewater to assure he would not turn into a zombie. My father contributes to the church to have a guarantee against becoming a zombie when he dies too. How foolish does that sound to you?”

“Foolish and expensive. We take care of zombies ourselves.”

“What?”

“Mrs. Daly and Briar helped me with my mother. Her ashes shall become flowers when the spring finally come.”

“I’m sorry to bring that subject, I’ve –”

With a pat on her hand, I’ve interrupted, “It’s alright. Death is part of life. And my mother rests now. Tell me more of how you rich people deal with the supernatural,” I suggested with a smile that earned a mischievous one of hers and glint in her eyes when she offered me many tales.

“…And it is said one woman near Pembroke kept it a secret when her husband became a zombie.”

“How could one keep such a secret?”

“I have absolutely no idea. But they say the family made a great effort to cover the lies for years, because if people knew he died, the widow and their five daughters would be thrown out of the house! And it would be impossible to marry them off.”

“My Lord! That’s horrible! Is it true?”

“Maybe not. However, does it even matter?” she inquired but did not wait for my answer while her words sunk in. “Isn’t it a twisted world where such an absurd tale could even be considered possible? That women would be forced to go to those lengths and risk their lives because we cannot exist without a man? That our fortunes and existence do not belong to ourselves?” She turned around, facing away from me. Eyes clouded by her thoughts.

Just like myself, Miss Parsons’ family would also push her into an advantageous marriage, in spite of her desires. Lady grandmother would insist I should marry a man of a higher rank and great fortune, as if Edgewater’s fortune was not enough to feed an entire village for years and could spend on candles for an evening more than many households would in a decade. The Parsons from Hazelvalle were not so different and would also pressure their daughter, unwilling to accept that perhaps this one could have a different fate than her sisters.

“I do not believe a woman should marry if not for love,” I mused, breaking the silence that settled over us. “Despite of how unjust the world is and how terrible a woman with no man is treated, growing an old maid is not the worst fate if compared to a loveless marriage to a cruel man.”

“I appreciate your wise words, Lady Catherine,” she sighed, “but my family would disagree with you. And soon, despite our wishes, we shall both be send off to London and to be auctioned at the dreadful marriage market...”

#cfwc nerd week #desire and decorum #choices fanfic #desire & decorum #miss daly #miss parsons #death tw #minor character death

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lorirwritesfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Revelations

Author's note: I replayed Hero recently and I really need closure from it. So here’s how I wish it happened. [All characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios]

Book: Hero Pairing: Grayson Prescott x F!MC (Nina) Rating: E Word count: 1996 Summary: Nina learns more about her origins, but as the time to return home comes, she has to face the outcome of her sudden disappearance. Based on the prompts: CFWC Nerd Week: Day 7 - Superheroes + Tech Stuff / The Only Exception

Nina wanders through the unfamiliar place she was thrown into. The rocky terrain area, composed of dark colored sand and several large pink and purple stones, seems to be inhabited. Wherever she is now, she certainly is all alone.

"Marci, can you scan the area?" Nina asks.

"Okay." Just a few seconds later, MARCI responds. "The place we're in still is on Earth. But it's certainly not the same dimension we come from. Plus, our sources are definitely limited. I can't find any source of food or water in a one mile radius."

"Well, that's great..." Nina grimaces.

"Wait! I just sensed the presence of a strong energy here."

"Energy? What do you mean?"

"It's an energy that only humans emanate. But that's strange... I couldn't find any living creatures nearby. Oh! Uh..."

"What is it, MARCI?"

"Okay, I think I found the source of energy. It's definitely human and it's getting closer to us."

Nina frowns at the frightened tone of the artificial intelligence. "Why does it sound like it's not a good thing?"

"Well, um..." The AI hesitates.

"MARCI, just say it."

"It's an ectoplasm."

Nina's eyes go wide under her mask. "But I thought these things don't exist."

"We're in a different dimension, Nina. As far as we know, anything is possible here."

"That's not very comforting..."

"I know... I still have to learn how to do that..."

Despite the dire circumstances, Nina chuckles. At least, her artificial intelligence can keep her distracted in the meantime. But just then, a voice cuts through the silence. "Nina..."

She looks around searching for the voice. "Who's there?"

"Uh... Me?" The AI replies.

"No, MARCI. Someone just called my name."

"Oh! Maybe the energy is trying to communicate with you! Try to answer them," MARCI suggests.

"Alright..." Nina clears her throat and looks around. "Hello?"

"Hello, Nina." The voice comes up again. "I've been waiting for you to contact us."

Suddenly the voice feels familiar. She then remembers when she heard it before.

"Are you my biological mother?"

"Yes."

Nina's stomach flutters. Her adoption was never a secret, but she never gave herself a chance to think about her birth parents. She used to tell herself she didn't want to hurt Rochelle's feelings. But it was an excuse to avoid the situation and worked surprisingly well for her. Until now.

"Where am I?"

"You were brought to our hyperspace when Silas Prescott went supernova."

"Am I trapped here?"

"No. You can leave whenever you like, child. If you touch the rough gemstone on the top of the hill to your left, it'll take you back to the dimension you grew up in."

Nina glances at the hill and nods. "Okay..." She thinks about leaving right away, but something in the back of her mind keeps her there.

"I'm sure you have many questions."

"You could say that again." She fiddles with the zipper of her suit before speaking. "How did I end up in the other dimension?"

"We needed to keep you safe."

"From what?"

"War. Rebellions took over this land for years. Many have died and lost their loved ones during battles against the former leader's tyranny. Your father and I chose to keep you safe somewhere else to ensure you would return to take your rightful place here."

"I don't get it..." Nina says as her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Am I supposed to rule here?"

"You're not a ruler. Your mission is to lead the revolution and restore peace. But first, you need to protect this land from people of the dimension you live in. Otherwise, the natural balance of Earth will be broken."

Nina's eyes go wide. "How come I didn't break the balance when you sent me there?"

"Because only you left here to live in another dimension. Yet, we're not sure what could've happened if more of us left or people from where you live come here."

"I still have questions, but I have to go back. My friends must've thought I died. And my mom..." Nina frowns.

"It's alright, child. I understand. Your father and I are happy to see how much you've grown and we have to thank your adoptive mother for it. Go. Don't let your friends wait for too long."

Nina nods in agreement. But as she does the strange place where she came from, she stops. "Hey! How do I come back here?"

"Take a small stone with you. But remember to keep it safe. The portal to this dimension is in your hands now."

"Okay."

"We'll be waiting for your return, child."

Nina then flies to the hill, grabs a stone and it immediately teleports her back to her small apartment.

"We're home! YAY!" The AI's voice startles Nina.

"I swear I forgot you were there, MARCI. You were so quiet," she says walking around her room.

"Sorry... I thought you and your birth mother needed some privacy."

"So, weren't you eavesdropping this time?"

"No...?"

Nina chuckles. "It's okay, MARCI, I—" She trails off once she stops at the threshold of her bedroom and finds Rochelle sniffing as she looks through old pictures of them together.

"Nina?!" Rochelle stands up and rushes to hug her.

Though she's no longer mad at her mother, Nina stiffens as she's suddenly very aware of still being inside her superhero suit.

"Thank goodness! I don't know how you survived that supernova, but I'm so happy you're alive, sweetheart."

"I... Um..."

Rochelle pulls away and frowns. "Are you still upset with me, Nina?"

"No, mom. But... Did Poppy tell you about this?"

"I may not be your birth mother, but I would recognize my only daughter's beautiful face anywhere. Even with this mask." Rochelle smiles, touching the mask covering her daughter's eyes.

Nina then removes her mask and hugs her mother tightly. "I'm so sorry, mom. For the fight we had, for avoiding you afterwards, for leaving you here worried about me."

"I know, sweetie. It's okay," Rochelle replies, caressing her daughter's hair. "Just be careful."

Nina sighs in relief and savors the embrace of her mother for as long as she can.

At night

A crescent moon illuminates the dark sky clouded skyline of Northbridge as Grayson stares blankly at the astounding view of his apartment. Life wasn't exactly easy before he knew who his father truly was. But to lose him was even harder. Is it wrong to mourn someone who almost destroyed the entire city for nothing more than greed? He just doesn't know it anymore.

The faint sound of the elevator doors opening reaches his ears, but he doesn't bother to look back. At this point, there is only one person who could help him get back on his feet. But as far as he knows, she is missing, just like many other citizens of his beloved town.

"Mind if I join you for a drink?"

Grayson sits up with a jolt and turns to the door to find Nina smiling timidly at him.

"The concierge said you didn't want visitors, but I needed to check in on you to make sure if you're okay."

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he gets up and rushes to pull her into his arms. He inhales the fruity scent coming from her hair, hoping this isn't just an hallucination. "I thought I'd never see you again, Nina..."

"You're not getting rid of me so easily, Mr. Prescott," she jokes.

"You say it as if I'd ever wish you to leave me," he whispers and pulls away to gaze at her. "Where have you been?"

"I had some family issues to solve."

"But I talked to Rochelle and—" His eyes go wide as realization dawns on his face. "Have you met your birth parents?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, that explains a lot..." He adds, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. "How was it? Are you okay?"

"It was surreal, to say the least. But I'm okay."

"I'm glad to hear it," he says with a tired smile.

"Grayson, I should be the one asking those questions. You've been through a lot lately and I wasn't here to support you," Nina cups his face with one hand.

"I understand your reasons. And you're here now. That's the only thing that matters."

Holding her hand still caressing his face, Grayson pressed his lips against her wrist and dots kisses up her arm until he reaches her neck. Nina straddles his lap and dips down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Soon, a pile of their clothes hit the floor as they explore each other's bodies unhurriedly.

Limbs tangle together as their bodies connect, moving in synchrony, increasing their need for pleasure and for each other. Once both of them find release, they lie back on the couch and revel in the afterglow.

"Grayson?" Nina asks as her fingers idly run through his tousled hair as he lies with his head on her stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about your father..." she whispers.

He heaves a sigh and turns his head to kiss her belly. "It's okay... It wasn't your fault.”

"Actually, it kinda is..."

Grayson pulls away for a moment and stares at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

“Let’s sit for a moment.” She suggests.

As they sit up and Nina starts to speak, Grayson listens to talking about the origin of the Prism, the source of superpowers and the rise of crime in Northbridge without making a single question. Then she explains what she knows about herself and the hyperspace.

"So my father knew about everything?"

"Yeah... He said he did it to be with your mother again."

"How?"

"I don't know... I think Silas believed the energy of the prism could resurrect her somehow. At least that's what he said to me before he went supernova."

"But he was with Moonlight."

"Exactly." She stands up and begins to lift off her feet, suspending herself mid-air.

Grayson’s jaw goes slack as stares at Nina floating in his living room. “You’re Moonlight…” He blurts.

“Yeah…” she mumbles as her feet touch the ground again then waits for his reaction. “Please, say something.”

A few seconds pass by as Grayson gazes at her, as if memorizing every inch of her. Then he clears his throat. “Is this the part where you say we can’t see each other anymore because you might put me in danger?”

Her face pales once she considers his words. “Um…I haven’t thought about that… But not because I don’t care. I do. A lot. Like really, all I do is think about you because you’re so handsome and so nice. You're literally my biggest college crush. I just had a lot going on lately and I just came back. I barely talked to Poppy and Dax after I returned because I—”

As a chuckle escapes Grayson’s lips, she covers her mouth and blushes. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to ramble like that…”

“I don’t mind. It's cute,” he says, reaching for her hand for her to sit down again. “So, if you haven’t thought about it, does it mean you’re not going to break up with me?”

“I didn’t know we were dating...” She smiles shyly.

“Well, I think we are. We went out several times, I always tell you how much I love being with you and I miss you, you always say it back. Sounds a lot like dating to me,” he jokes.

“Okay,” she nods.

“So…” He turns to her, gazing into her eyes. “Are you going to break my heart right now? Because if you’re worried about my safety, I think you should stick around to keep me safe.”

Nina chuckles, but soon her laugh fades. “I really shouldn’t see you, Grayson. But if I let you go now, I might miss out on living one of the best experiences of my life.” She croaks as her eyes begin to well up. “I know it because right now, in the middle of this mess, I’m happy. And I know it’s because of you.”

“Then don’t let me go, Nina,” he says, wiping a tear that runs down her face before leaning in to kiss her.

After a long searing kiss, he presses his forehead against hers and smiles as she finally answers his plea.

“I won’t.”

#choices fanfic #choices hero fanfic #grayson prescott #grayson x f!mc #choices fic writers creations #cfwc nerd week #lorirwritesfanfic #lorircreates #n*fw

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