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ladygow · 3 years

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Morning Room, Thenford House, Northamptonshire August 1799

“Thirty-six yards of handmade lace,” Lady Gow lamented, looking at the receipt. “So beautiful. All wasted.”

“I am sorry.” Lucy’s voice was small and directed to the window, blue eyes unfocused upon the lawn. Sorcha paused to look at her. In a rare moment, her niece exhibited the posture Sorcha had so hoped for, her back perfectly straight, chin level. One hand still wrapped around a cup of tea, untouched and cold.

It had been the same for days. Not a single explanation, only the complete upheaval of a happy house and the expedient retreat into the countryside. Sorcha only narrowly stopped Lucy from riding herself, catching a groom saddling her horse as though she was not a lady, and had not been bred as such. Sorcha pinched the bridge of her nose, staring at the parchment in disbelief. “Lucy, what were you thinking?”

The end of her question fell on an empty room, with only the sound of her niece’s footsteps in retreat to answer.

The maids had several things to say about it, which they clucked in country scatter in the kitchens. Thenford House was rarely used, a forgotten relic of a bygone age, visited by the distant cousins as a hunting lodge when the weather changed. Sorcha’s mother had preferred the residence until her passing, drawing up plans for the gardens and working in them herself.

Isla overheard the chat. The dismay at the way the bedlinens were always cast askew, curled into the center of the bed as though pulled by a malestrom. Each pillow, every quilt, drawn away from their perfectly-tucked corners and pulled inward, like a sparrow building a nest. They lamented it, the lack of composure and appreciation for their neat housework, the nearly-feral way she slept. Isla said nothing, but knew better. Her mistress could not sleep.

“I am taking a walk to look for wildflowers,” Sorcha declared, though she might as well have been speaking to air. Lucy sat on the wide veranda and stared at nothing, as though she could set the air on fire. Lady Gow did not extend an invitation. She grew tired of speaking to herself.

Nothing had moved position upon her return: gold and ochre flowers lining the brick path, the sun high behind clouds. Tea in a soft blue cup, still full, now cold. Lucy. But where before, only meadowlarks filled the air, there was now sound. Sorcha paused halfway up the path and listened, the shape of her niece materializing as a cold, depthless cry reached her ears.

Lucy folded in on herself, knees to her chest, head buried against them. Her hands cradled her forehead, shielding the light. Sorcha set her basket -- filled with bright purples and plump greens -- on the walk, and then took the steps leading to the porch in quick succession. Lucy did not seem to notice the sudden intrusion, her shoulders shaking like the last leaves before winter. She knelt before her, reaching through the tangle of arms and silk to cup Lucy’s cheeks and pull her head up. “I am sorry,” she repeated, over and again like a child reciting a prayer. Speechless, Sorcha shook her head.

“Lucy, you must tell me what happened.”

But Lucy only shook her head, cheeks cupped into her aunt’s hands. Her prayer changed. “I do not know what I should do, I do not know what I should do.”

“She won’t sleep, ma’am.”

Sorcha felt on the verge of exasperation, at once wholly exhausted and amazed at the destruction Lucy seemed to bring on herself. She looked at Isla. “Then give her something to make her.”

The next day dawned bright and quiet, the maids in the kitchen had no reason to fuss. Lucy slept.

“It is my fault.” Candlelight bathed the room in a soft glow, brought out the rose in the curtains and the pink in her skin, freshly scrubbed. She wore her hair in a plait, drew herself into the corner of the settee. Sorcha looked up.

Lucy’s eyes were red rimmed, but dry. “It is my fault. I did it.”

Sorcha nodded, slowly.

“I found fault in his character that I could not overcome.” Lucy spoke as though she was in recitation, as though she’d whispered the lines countless times. “It made me frightened. And I told him so.”

A sigh fell in the room. As days stretched, Sorcha’s hopes that this was a simple matter, a lover’s spat, grew dim. They extinguished entirely.

Lucy drew a soft breath. “To which he apologized. He asked me to forgive him. And I-- I could not. I was so angry. I was so frightened. I would rather die than have him look at me in such a way, and I--”

For a moment, she almost reached for her tea. Sorcha tried not to pay it notice, tried simply to will it to happen. Instead, Lucy sat back, her hands drawn to her chin, finger to her lips. Her teeth worried her fingernail. “I told him no. I sent him away. I shouldn’t have done it, but I did do it. And now, I-- I do not know what to do.”

#sorcha x lucy #sorcha;self para

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neganandblake · 7 years

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I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 115 - Flashes before your eyes

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she's certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

MASTERLIST

Chapter 115 - Flashes before your eyes

[Blake, in her last moments,remembers the happy moment in her life with Negan and Mia....but perhaps rescue isn't as far away as she thinks.]

It had started to rain heavily, the sound of raindrops crashing down onto the leafy undergrowth beneath Negan's feet, almost deafening out here in the bleak fall afternoon.

Visibility was poor out here and it hadn't taken long for the dark-haired Saviour to figure out that leaving Blake on her own, was not a good idea.

Fine, he of course knew that she would be pissed-as-hell for him turning back on himself and not doing as she requested. But at this moment in time, Blake's safety was his priority, whether she fucking liked it or not.

Negan did not trust Rick or his people one tiny bit, and despite ordering half of his men to stand guard at the gates and half of his men to search, not only the houses, but the space immediately outside the small gated community, he had made sure his higher up lieutenants knew to keep an eye out for any signs that this entire fucking thing might be some big trap.

For he wouldn't put it past them to try something like that.

But nevertheless, the kid was still missing and he seen that determined look in Blake's eye that told him she was not about to back down on this one. So Negan had let her do her shit. Let her go off on her own. All because she goddamn loved that kid.

All this panic, all this risk….all in search of one tiny girl.

But at the end of the day Negan knew as well as Blake had, that this wasn't just some kid. For despite only being with them for a few days, Mia had turned Negan and Blake's entire lives on its head.

Although Negan, of course, knew of someone who had done that to him as well, not so long ago…

A blonde woman with long legs and a smart fucking mouth…..who had strolled into his life like a goddamn hurricane, and since then nothing had been the same again for him.

For Negan would do anything for her. Anything.

But despite her request for him to search the far side of the road…Negan had been barking orders to Dwight when he had heard it…

….the gunshot….

And he had almost instantly felt himself go white as a sheet, clenching his jaw tightly together, before lowering his chin darkly and stalking back off in the direction he had come in…..

…going to find her.

For hell, if he fucking lost her….Negan wasn't quite sure what he would be capable of.

For even he didn't want to think about it.

Sheer anger bubbling inside him remembering what had happened when he had thought he had lost her for good once before, when she had been taken by the Wolves…tied up…almost raped and cut open….

….he had felt like a wolf that night…ready to tear the throat out of anyone who hurt even a single hair on her head.

He loved her with very fibre of his body now, barley caring, as he stalked back through the dense trees, trying to spot the route she had taken, that he was soaked through to the skin.

For all Negan was concerned with now ,was finding her and making sure she was safe.

But he had barely gone even forty feet when he heard them again. Gunshots coming from a little way away from him now.

He counted three in quick succession.

Shit.

This was not good, a lump appearing inside his throat and his blood running utterly cold.

He picked up his pace, heading of in the direction of the carrying noise, becoming a little disoriented with the rain and the crashing of the thunderstorm above his head.

How many bullets had she been left with?

That was Negan's biggest concern now.

Had either of them even bothered to reload since their trip to the Hilltop? Negan doubted it, and that meant she was already two down.

Was that it?

Was she out?

Negan knew now he had to get to her and fast, wishing that he fucking been more sensible here and brought a few of his men along too.

But the dark-haired man was determined now, his mouth set into a thin grimace, his eyes black and furious.

Furious at himself for leaving her.

Why had he been so fucking stupid?

If he had his way, Peaches would be back that the fucking Sanctuary right now. Safe.

But instead she was here, in fucking danger, and all of this, at the end of the day, was on Negan's fucking head.

Branches and brables scratched at his arms, legs and face now as he pushed through the undergrowth, his breathing sounding loud inside his ears. Almost deafening him now.

But still he kept on walking…..hoping for a sign of her…

Something….

Fucking anything…..

Suddenly there came a rustling a little way ahead of him.

Fuck.

Was there something fucking there?

Negan slowed down a little, clutching Lucille between both his hands now, readjusting his grip…once...then again…then again…

….narrowing his dark eyes and peering dead-ahead of him.

Was it a walker?

The rustling came again.

But still Negan could see nothing.

He stalked swiftly forwards, his jaw set, and his heart thudding away inside his chest, raising Lucille high above him.

Whatever it fucking was, it wouldn't be here to fuck with either him or Blake for very long, that was for sure.

But Negan stopped suddenly, staggering backwards a little on his long legs as a sudden figure, that Negan had certainly not been expecting, came hurtling out of the large bush ahead of him, colliding with his bottom half.

"What the f-" the dark-haired Savior began before he trailed off…..just a pair of round blue watery eyes peered up at him from low to the ground.

His heart swelled.

It was the kid.

The fucking kid.

Mia.

But she looked, dare he admit it, far more of a state now, than she had when he had seen her earlier today. Her face was red and sticky with tears, and he could see that she was soaked through to the skin, with only one sock on, now half hanging off her tiny foot.

"Eggy," he said suddenly, lifting her pudgy arms and making grabby hands for him, as she pouted. "I lost mai snaik."

Negan gave a frown, obliging her almost instantly, bending down, tucking one of his tanned and calloused hands under the kid's butt, and lifting her up into his arms, readjusting his grip on Lucille as he did so.

She looked completely out of breath like she had been running as fast as her legs could carry her and placed a pudgy hand to his damp leather-clad shoulder.

But what had she been running from? That was the question….

"Where have you just come from, beansprout, huh?" Negan asked in a serious voice, his dark eyes roving across the tiny baby girl's face at this close proximity.

But Mia's bottom lip quivered for a brief moment before she spoke.

"I wos wif Bwake, an' den' da monshers com'," she uttered in an important sounding voice. "An' Bwake tol'd me I gow. So I gowed."

At Mia's words, a gulp suddenly slid its way down Negan's tanned throat, just as somewhere nearby, Negan heard a sudden distant shouting…

...coming from a voice he recognised very well indeed.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

The dark-haired leader of the Saviour's suddenly furrowed his dark brow, his pupils turning black.

And without a second thought, Negan had begun to stride, Mia still in his arms, held tightly to him, as he crashed through the undergrowth, determined to get to Blake in time…even if it was the last thing he ever fucking did.

Blake scrabbled backwards as the rain poured down all around her in heavy sheets, watching in horror, as the two walkers peeled themselves from one another, their decomposing heads both turning in her direction with an audible growl.

Her eyes widened now, her lips parting, pressing her back against the muddy slope of the pit, breathing hard.

She could hear her heart hammering inside her ribcage, the gun in her hand now rendered utterly useless.

She was fucked.

Absolutely screwed with no chance of escape here.

This was it.

The end for her….watching as the two dead figures snarled and snapped their jaws at her, clambering up and drawing nearer to her, reaching out for her with rotting limbs outstretched and clawing.

She had nothing to defend herself with. Nothing to use against them. Standing there now, soaked through, panting, tears slipping silently down her cheeks…

But it was in that moment, it was as though Blake's entire life flashed before eyes.

But this was no past life…no horrors of seeing David again…

For these memories were her life over the past six months…Negan…Mia…the little moments she had loved….lying in bed cuddled up together…..talking about nothing and everything….and even to just yesterday baking brownies in her tiny kitchenette….

But none of this….this happiness would have been possible without one person in her life.

And now…at the end of everything, Blake truly was happy to have known him. Even if it had been a fleeting moment in time. She had never felt true love and utter joyous happiness like it in her life.

And she regretted nothing.

Really she didn't….as the caramel-blonde woman gave a tearful laugh before she could help herself, letting out a hard puff of air, an staring directly at the two advancing walkers….

…she was ready now…

…ready to die…

…this was just her time.

And all she could hope for now was that Mia found her way back to Negan…

…back to someone who could love her like Blake had loved her…

And with that Blake squeezed her eyes tightly shut….

..waiting for death to take her…waiting to feel the tearing of jaws against her flesh…..

…the end….

…but….…it never came.

Instead two loud gunshots suddenly rang out loud and clear in the small pit, causing Blake to wince, losing her balance and toppling back against the muddy sides behind her, her ears ringing as she peeled open her eyes against the falling rain…

..but all she saw was the sight of the two walkers hitting the muddy puddle of water inside of the large ditch, with a loud splosh, landing in a crumpled heap with their skulls burst open.

And with that Blake slowly peered up through the falling rain, her eyes landing upon two figures she had truly never expected to see again.

She tilted her head to the side, a harsh sob escaping her lips before she could help herself, staring up at Negan standing there, gun in one hand, and Lucille in the other.

But most importantly, nestled in the crook of his elbow was the teeny figure of Mia, staring down at Blake with great interest.

"I get Eggy!" she cried in an excitable voice obviously feeling proud of herself right now.

And so she should be.

Blake felt her entire body flood with an overwhelming pride an happiness at her two favourite people in her life.

The two people standing before her.

Blake's tired green eyes met with Negan's now….letting a hard breath of air escape her lips, as she looked upon him.

He was everything to her. And she honestly did love him now, with every inch of her.

"You alright, Peaches?" he asked, his brow furrowed, but right now he looked anything but angry, his entire face filled with concern.

But Blake nodded.

"Yhmmm," she murmured in reply, wanting so much to burst into tears at this second, but she refrained, holding back for Mia's sake, not wanting to upset the tiny girl further.

But Negan could see that she wasn’t just 'alright', and easing Mia carefully to the ground, before tucking his gun down his pants, he held out his hand towards Blake.

And that sight…..well, there was nothing the caramel-blonde woman had been more relieved to see in her entire life.

She glanced down, as the rain continued to fall all around them, carefully stepping over the ever-growing pile of, now-still, walkers and reaching up to take Negan's hand.

Feeling utter relief wash over her, as she felt his warm digits settle around hers firmly, as he helped her up the steep, muddy slope.

Blake's feet scrabbled a few times at the wet mud beneath her boots, but Negan, retaining his grip on her, managed to pull her out, letting go of her when she was firmly up and out, and helping her to her feet, with one calloused hand under her elbow.

His eyes were, of course, on her face now, roving across her mud-splattered features and taking in every imperfection that littered her brow and cheeks.

But it didn't even take him a moment, to lean his long, tanned and bearded face in…

…and press his lips to hers.

And with this gesture Blake felt every worry she had ever had, wash away with the rain that was soaking them through to their skin.

Never wanting to leave him again.

She was strong and independent, but even so, that didn't mean she couldn't feel protected by him…and warm and safe in his arms, as he tugged her forwards with one hand to her back, as their lips parted and met again and again.

But suddenly, a tiny voice was heard and Blake and Negan broke from their kiss, feeling a tiny pair of hands push their legs apart.

"Noh Eggy, it mai turn to kissh Bwakey naw!"said Mia in a bossy little voice.

And Blake, giving a small touched sniff and a bright smile, turned, bending down and sweeping Mia instantly up into her arms, and beginning to press kiss after kiss to the toddler's chubby face.

But after second Mia made a face, pressing her tiny paw to Blake's cheek and pushing her playfully away.

"Noh, Bwake getting' me durty!" she squealed giving a tiny giggle, but even so Blake still didn't relent, absolutely besotted with the tiny girl she had longed to get back for so long.

Blake held Mia close to her never wanting to let go, as she finally pulled away, gazing at her in awe.

But like her, the teeny toddler was soaked through and Blake knew that they should really get back to Alexandria and back to the trucks before it got dark.

"We should go," she murmured out, chancing a glance back up towards Negan.

But Negan was staring at the two of them now with a curious look upon his face, a grin plastered across his mouth, but his eyes full of a happiness Blake had ever thought she would see from the dark-haired Saviour in a million years.

And so reaching down, Blake's hand found his, her fingers entwining with his tanned ones.

"Come on," she uttered in what was barely a whisper, her eyes meeting his chocolate ones.

And in a second, Negan had given a blink and let out a small sighing nod.

"Yeah we should get back," he muttered arching his back slightly as he took a step ahead of her now, his fingers curling around hers. "Cause' I am fuckin' soaked through, an', hell, well I know underneath it all you are hot as fuck, but you are a sight for sore fuckin' eyes right now, Sweetheart, covered in that shit."

But Blake just raised a single eyebrow, glancing down at herself, not actually able to see a single part of her not coated in thick black mud right now.

Ok, maybe he had a point.

"Shut up, asshole," Blake bit back teasingly, smirking slightly as Negan gave a wide grinning smile, as he took the lead now, striding on back through the undergrowth in the direction of Alexandria, pulling her with him by the hand.

And it was only a moment later, that Mia nuzzling her head into the crook of Blake's neck, gave a sleepy yawn, smacking her lips.

"Yea, shut ap, ash-howl…" she murmured sleepily, causing both the adults to give a small laugh.

All of them truly and utterly happy to be reunited once more.

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