#i love it whenever they enter cold climates because their cheeks get all red and blushy

[beif0ngs]

#A FLOOFY LUFFY 😊

[semete-ningen-rashiku]

The Happy Prince

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince.  He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed.  “He is as beautiful as a weathercock,” remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; “only not quite so useful,” he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon.  “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”

“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.

“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen one.”

“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow.  His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed.  He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow.  So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples.  This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many relations”; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds.  Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love.  “She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.”  And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys.  “I admit that she is domestic,” he continued, “but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.”

“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

“You have been trifling with me,” he cried.  “I am off to the Pyramids.  Good-bye!” and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city.  “Where shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.”

Then he saw the statue on the tall column.

“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air.”  So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him.  “What a curious thing!” he cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining.  The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful.  The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.”

Then another drop fell.

“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw—Ah! what did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks.  His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

“Who are you?” he said.

“I am the Happy Prince.”

“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; “you have quite drenched me.”

“When I was alive and had a human heart,” answered the statue, “I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter.  In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall.  Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful.  My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness.  So I lived, and so I died.  And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep.”

“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself.  He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical voice, “far away in a little street there is a poor house.  One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table.  Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress.  She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball.  In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill.  He has a fever, and is asking for oranges.  His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying.  Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt?  My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”

“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow.  “My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers.  Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King.  The King is there himself in his painted coffin.  He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices.  Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger?  The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”

“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow.  “Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me.  They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.”

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry.  “It is very cold here,” he said; “but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.”

“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.

So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.

He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured.  He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing.  A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover.  “How wonderful the stars are,” he said to her, “and how wonderful is the power of love!”

“I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,” she answered; “I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.”

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships.  He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales.  At last he came to the poor house and looked in.  The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired.  In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble.  Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings.  “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting better”; and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done.  “It is curious,” he remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”

“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince.  And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep.  Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath.  “What a remarkable phenomenon,” said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge.  “A swallow in winter!”  And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper.  Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect.  He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple.  Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.

When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.  “Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”

“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow.  “To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract.  The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon.  All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent.  At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink.  They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a garret.  He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets.  His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes.  He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more.  There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”

“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had a good heart.  “Shall I take him another ruby?”

“Alas!  I have no ruby now,” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left.  They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago.  Pluck out one of them and take it to him.  He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”

“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that”; and he began to weep.

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”

So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret.  It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof.  Through this he darted, and came into the room.  The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; “this is from some great admirer.  Now I can finish my play,” and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour.  He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes.  “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up.  “I am going to Egypt”! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”

“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon be here.  In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them.  My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other.  Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away.  The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.”

“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little match-girl.  She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled.  Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying.  She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare.  Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”

“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye.  You would be quite blind then.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”

So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it.  He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand.  “What a lovely bit of glass,” cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

Then the Swallow came back to the Prince.  “You are blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”

“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”

“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.

All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands.  He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women.  There is no Mystery so great as Misery.  Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates.  He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets.  Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm.  “How hungry we are!” they said.  “You must not lie here,” shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.”

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey.  Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street.  “We have bread now!” they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost.  The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well.  He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die.  He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more.  “Good-bye, dear Prince!” he murmured, “will you let me kiss your hand?”

“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.”

“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow.  “I am going to the House of Death.  Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken.  The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two.  It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors.  As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said.

“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.

“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact, “he is litttle better than a beggar!”

“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town Councillors.

“And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!” continued the Mayor.  “We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.”  And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince.  “As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,” said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal.  “We must have another statue, of course,” he said, “and it shall be a statue of myself.”

“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled.  When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry.  “This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace.  We must throw it away.”  So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

“Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.”

[growingstronglikeahighgardenrose]

The Christmas Miracle

Pairings: Charlotte/Sidney

POV: Georgiana

Prompt: When those blue snowlakes start falling (12 days of Sanditon challenge hosted by @sanditoncreative​

Synopsis: 'You’ll come to regret ever setting foot in Sanditon’, Esther had said. Four months after her departure, Charlotte was indeed wondering if the adventure had been worth the pain, but Esther, Georgiana and Lady Susan are determined to invalidate Esther’s statement. Never underestimate four girlfriends when one of them has been hurt by a man.

Also available on AO3

Georgiana hated the English climate.

It was cold.

It was wet.

It was windy.

And not a single beach or park could ever compare to the natural splendour of her country of origin.

And right now, she considered England the worst place on earth.

It had never been a good place to begin with. She was shipped to it like some kind of slave, forced to live and perform in England. The only difference was that her cage was a gilded one, but she had about just as much say in her life.

No, the unfairness was that over the summer, she had started experiencing joy and moments of happiness with Otis and Charlotte, and come Autumn, both had been ripped away from her.

The first by his own mistake, her heart still ached too much to pity him, and the second all by the fault of her brother.

Because Georgiana didn’t know a lot, probably not half of the story, but she didn’t need to. Sidney was a brute: he was moody, antagonistic and rational to the point of being heartless.

Yet, for some reason beyond her comprehension, Charlotte had decided to be interested in him.

And coincidentally, or rather by no coincidence at all, her best friend left shortly after news of his engagement to the blonde rat who wore a constant scowl.

Georgiana had actively avoided the woman, only seeing her during the wedding of Lord Babington and forced dinners, but she had a calculating look in her cold blue eyes, and talked in a contrived London manner she instantly detested, and then there was the barely concealed disdain in her words whenever the topic of Charlotte Heywood or Sanditon was broached.

And whenever she talked to Georgiana, Georgiana felt treated like a little girl. If she had an opinion, it was amusing, if she said something sharp, she was addressed with the nickname girl, and when she took a stance, she was often put down for simply being unknowing.

Just as the wretched Lady Denham had finally taken notice and calmed down, a new enemy entered her social life.

Was there to be no end to the endless list of awful people in England? Surely, she’d met many unpleasant people in Antigua, but this was on a whole other level.

The only good thing during the Autumn season were Charlotte’s letters, in which her dear friend told her, upon hearing of her bad encounters with the blonde serpent, how she’d belittled Charlotte on the day of the regatta as well.

Georgiana felt bad talking about the serpent and Sidney to Charlotte, because she knew it hurt her. It was visible in her writing. Charlotte almost never reacted to statements considering Sidney, and the comments about the snake got comforting and supportive replies. She didn’t know why it pained her friend. She herself wouldn’t mind getting weekly letters about how poorly Otis fared after he’d hurt her heart.

It would serve him right, literally gambling away their happiness.

Just as it served Sidney right that he looked to be completely miserable with the serpent. He chose her for her money, not for her character, so it served him right that she didn’t possess a single redeemable quality.

At the end of November, Lord Babington, who had stayed in Sanditon for Sidney, had to go to London because the prince regent requested it, and parliament would pick up soon. Mrs. Campion wished to go as well, since she missed her London friends, wanted a London dress for the wedding and wanted to show off her fiancé.

Georgiana’s fate was uncertain, but Sidney seemed disinclined to take her with him, since she: ‘Was able to cause enough problems in Sanditon, and managed to cause problems from Sanditon to London.’

But then a letter of Charlotte arrived, in which she said Lady Susan had invited her to visit London with her.

Leave it to Georgiana to make a scene and hold a pity party if she thought there was something to be gained from it. In the end, Sidney gave in and allowed her to go to London though Mrs. Griffiths and her other charges were to go as well.

So all went to London, and on the day of their departure, the first snow greeted them on their way to London.

 ☼☼☼☼☼

Though there was no chance Charlotte would set foot in the Parker residence, Georgiana got an invitation for tea at Lady Susan’s almost immediately. She delighted in only telling Sidney of her plans over dinner, since dinner was almost always had with Mrs. Campion, so he was never able to ask about Charlotte or show his emotions when Georgiana announced she was visiting again.

One time, Mrs. Campion, jealous of the time Georgiana spent in the presence of one of the most famous and esteemed ladies in London, asked why she was not invited. To which Georgiana gleefully, and with the same haughty tone, with all the pretended innocence Mrs. Campion showed when she made a nasty remark, replied that she didn’t feel secure enough to ask anything of Lady Susan, since she was such a busy and esteemed woman and her table was always full, since she wished to see every acquaintance worth having. She’d always cleverly left out the fact that most meetings were only in the presence of Charlotte.

The reaction was instantaneous, Mrs. Campion pulled back from the table she’d been leaning on, her face paling. Little black Georgiana worth having every couple of days, Charlotte Heywood living with her, but wealthy Mrs. Campion who had already known and greeted Lady Susan on numerous occasions wasn’t worth having.

She could see her struggle with the fact that she herself wasn’t wanted by Lady Susan, and that Lady Susan preferred the two girls she so clearly disliked.

‘But y-‘ She was like a fish on dry land, her lips forming words but her vocal chords weren’t producing them. She wanted to say it. Georgiana could see how she tried to ask why such a lady would want Georgiana and Charlotte, but she could also see the stern look that Sidney was giving his fiancée.

He knew, Georgiana realized.

He knew that she wanted to make a mean-spirited remark. And he hated her just as much for it.

Just ditch the bitch, please.

‘But how unfortunate. Does she know I am in London?’

Clever, a most clever save… But a bad one.

‘I believe so, I’ve mentioned dining with you… And we’ve already been to a ball she was present at’, Georgiana replied, the last comment with an innocent smile saying: how could you have forgotten, you poor silly thing.

Bested in her own game, Mrs. Campion could only stare with an open mouth.

‘Oh, I understand. She must be busy then, perhaps at the next ball we might talk.’

‘Perhaps.’

 ☼☼☼☼☼

The next day proved uncommonly cold as Georgiana went towards the Babington residence. She’d never really cared or interacted with Lady Babington before she got married, she’d always seemed cold and quiet, but during their first ball in London, she’d lost Charlotte for an hour, and found her red eyed but with dry cheeks at the refreshment table with Lady Babington. Apparently, Charlotte had a run-in with Mrs. Campion and Sidney, and as Lord Babington had gone after Sidney, he’d alerted his wife that Charlotte might be in a bad state as well. She’d escorted Charlotte to a private chamber, in which Charlotte had admitted that indeed nothing good ever came of Sanditon. Afterwards, they’d talked a couple of times and though she didn’t form a natural friendship with the woman, she could at least agree that they both cared about Charlotte. She was as snappy, snarky and opinionated as her, but as always, two people similar in character had trouble connecting.

A maid let her in and showed her to a green drawing room upstairs. Lady Babington and Charlotte were already present… As was Lady Susan, unexpectedly.

‘I called you all together, because, through our combined knowledge, I hope to find a solution to our problem.’

‘Our problem?’ Georgiana asked.

A maid came in bringing tea and biscuits, and the red haired woman waited until the maid left again.

‘Yes. Our problem. Now, I know I was a bit preoccupied with my own problems this summer… And any potential friendship has suffered under it, since you rightfully avoided my brother, Miss Heywood. But lately, I’ve come to a conclusion that many people seem to be bothered by a particular problem. And since men are too stupid to tackle the problem, and are to occupied pitying themselves, it’s up to us. I won’t beat around the bush any longer: our problem goes by the name of Mrs. Campion. I’ve asked Charlotte if it was alright to discuss it beforehand, and it is. Mrs. Campion is a mean cruel creature and the thing standing between Mr. Parker and Miss Heywood.’

Georgiana refrained from telling Charlotte to just pick a better, less crappy person, and continued drinking her tea.

‘The information I’ve collected thus far is the following: Charlotte and Mr. Parker are in love. Charlotte and Mr. Parker were about to get engaged, until something happened that lead him to engage himself to his former fiancé who’d left him for a rich man. This we all know, by knowing Charlotte. Now, my husband strongly believes in privacy and wishes to keep the secrets of his friends. So the past few months I’ve only managed to notice that Mr. Parker was faring badly. James stumbled home late, or drunk and late a lot, and the person he’d entertained was always the same: Mr. Parker. Now, I’ve also met Mrs. Campion a lot and she’s an upright bitch. Of course, Mr. Parker could just have developed a bad taste, or decided that personality isn’t important in a woman. Yet, if her personality didn’t matter, he had no reason to be so miserable.’

Georgiana found herself becoming interested in the story. These were all things she had observed herself, yes, but she was curious what this was leading up to.

‘Now after the first ball, I’ve started paying more attention. Why, if both Mr. Parker and Miss Heywood are unhappy, and nobody likes Mrs. Campion, is he engaged to her? There had to be a reason. And I thought that if I found the reason, we could treat the reason. If there’s no reason for him to be with her, we can split them up and fix things… Alright now fixing it won’t mean everyone can go straight back to being happy… That’s not how feelings work…’

Lady Babington seemed a bit lost in thoughts as her eyes wandered across the room. Georgiana coughed, which managed to snap her out of it.

‘Right… So though it still may take a while for things to be actually fine, things can at least start getting better once she’s out of the way. Happiness is still possible.’

‘I’ve listened with my ear pressed to closed doors, I’ve played the part of worried wife – which mind you I am – when James came back home drunk and down because of Sidney’s misery… And I’ve talked with James when he was sober. I’ve found out the following, of which I’m not sure you are aware. When those buildings burned down, Sidney discovered that Tom didn’t pay for the insurance for the same reason he always pays his workers late, skimps out on spending money on new material and so on: he’s broke. He has an incredible amount of loans, his debt is ginormous. But he keeps thinking that once Sanditon catches on, he’ll make the money back. However, the amount of money invested in the houses, was large, and he needed to sell or rent those buildings with great urgency. All Parkers knew Sanditon cost a lot, they knew he depended on Lady Denham’s financial support, they knew he’d asked Sidney to ask for loans in London, they knew he needed to get Sanditon on the map. But when he told them how much he owed his debtors, they knew they couldn’t pay it. Even if my aunt had died and all the money had gone to Sanditon, he’d still be in trouble. His debt was bigger than all the money the Parkers possessed, plus the money of my aunt. They needed new money and couldn’t lend it.’

‘So he asked for the bitch’s hand’, Georgiana concluded.

Lady Babington nodded.

‘So the reason is money.’

‘Only money. Not even for his own benefit, purely for Tom’s. Mrs. Campion wanted Mr. Parker back since her husband died, and her money only becomes his after the marriage, so he complies with every whim. She sometimes uses it to make him do things, because, despite claiming to want him, she has no problem threatening to break off the engagement if he doesn’t do as she wishes. And though he dislikes her, he does hate marrying her just to use her money. He feels miserable being with her, and he hates having to use the only benefit marrying her brings.’

‘That makes.. Sense actually’, Charlotte muttered. ‘I always told him how he should make more of an effort to support his family… But I never meant this… I never thought… To trap two people in a loveless marriage just to help Tom… Oh poor Sidney, poor Mr. Parker.’ Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears threatening to overspill any moment.

Were they to all suffer because of money? She a bird in a cage because of it, her engagement ruined because of Otis’ debts, Lady Babington suffering through money troubles and having to comply with Lady Denham prior to getting engaged, Sidney’s engagement being broken off because the serpent wanted to marry a wealthier husband, and now Sidney and Charlotte both being miserable because of Tom Parker’s money trouble.

‘And his family, he’d go straight to debtor’s prison, and his wife and children would be in a lot of trouble. And the other two brothers as well, since they too wouldn’t be able to pay off his debt.’

‘So they need money’, Lady Susan decided.

‘And they need it before the marriage takes place’, Charlotte replied.

‘So, we need to find money’, Esther explained.

‘Or find ways to make it’, Georgiana decided.

‘Yes. Anyone ideas?’ Esther asked as she sat down with a notebook in hand.

‘Either we need to find a way to make sure Sidney wouldn’t be harmed by Tom’s trouble’, Georgiana sighed.

‘Or we need to find a way to make Tom’s trouble go away’, Esther agreed.

‘So Sanditon needs to become a thriving town, within half a year?’ Lady Susan asked.

‘Or the Parkers need a lot of additional funds so that Tom can focus on paying back the money, instead of spending for new stuff’, Georgiana concluded.

Charlotte looked around the room. The Babingtons, Lady Susan, Georgiana…

‘I can’t ask this of you. If it was about a little amount, it would be kind and I would know they’d give it back to you, but I doubt that would be the case. No.’

‘We can, of course, always poison her shortly after the marriage’, Georgiana suggested.

Lady Babington smiled but the other two looked reserved.

‘What? Then we wouldn’t have to do anything. They’d have the money and Sidney would be free.’

‘Except that murder is illegal’, Charlotte said.

‘Only if they find out.’

‘Hold on, she might be on to something’, Lady Susan decided.

‘Murder might not be the answer. But as long as they get married, the money is his. Now I’ve seen many marriages dissolve in my time… Perhaps, we only need to find a reason for divorce.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Esther huffed, ‘a marriage is practically a lifelong contract. The only legal grounds are if the husband almost beats his wife and children to death or if a party, but most frequently the woman…’

‘Commits adultery.’

‘But, that doesn’t make it possible for Mr. Parker to remarry’, Charlotte said.

‘It does… if you take it to Parliament’, Lady Susan explained.

‘But doesn’t that only happen a handful of times a year?’ asked Esther.

‘Yes, because it costs money to take it to Parliament, and since it doesn’t happen a lot your name and reputation might take quite a hit. Most who have the money are society people, but it frequently leads to them being shunned… Luckily, I doubt that would be the case, since I, Lord Babington, Mr. Crowe and other very influential people would make sure his reputation would remain good enough. We’d make sure it would be known that he’s still welcome at parties attended by the Prince Regent. That really sends a sign. If he, as a divorcee, still moves in the same circles as the Prince Regent, no one will dare close their doors for him.’

‘But Mrs. Campion…’

‘Now most divorce cases I know are awful things. And the wife ends up a poor outcast, not allowed to remarry and not receiving the alimony she should. But I’m sure that Mr. Parker would allowed her to remarry, and would pay her alimony.’

‘So what you’re saying is: we should make her cheat with someone with enough money to take her on in case of a divorce, despite the serious social repercussions.’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s, a lot… Though… To put her through. I don’t like her, and she’s definitely mean, but she’s only about thirty, this could impact her the rest of the years of her life. And we are already assuming she would commit adultery.’

‘Someone doesn’t have to commit adultery, there are bad men who have divorced their wives with no real proof of anything.’

‘But let’s just pretend she at least has to be a bit guilty, otherwise she isn’t deserving of such a punishment.’

The woman all grabbed their teacup to drink and collect their thoughts.

‘Lady Susan, you managed to get a lot of people to Sanditon this summer. Perhaps, it could happen again, if Sanditon hosted more events’, Charlotte asked.

‘It could, perhaps with even more people, my going was a last minute decision.’

‘But would that be enough?’ Esther asked.

‘I doubt it.’

‘If I marry, the money will go to my husband, I’d much rather spend it on that damned sandy place if it helps you. I care more for having you as something as close to a sister as it could get, than having more money than I’ll ever need in the possession of a future husband.’

‘I doubt Sidney would allow you’, Charlotte sighed. ‘And neither would I want you to.’

Esther stood up and walked about the room, coming to a standstill in front of the window. Georgiana noticed it had started snowing again.

Lady Susan and Charlotte took the paper and started noting down ideas for future events and ways to get people to Sanditon.

Georgiana sighed in frustration. All these tactics would take months. Not knowing a lot about making money, she started imagining ways to murder Mrs. Campion.

Stupid horrid woman, why did she have to marry him?

Why, after all these years, did she suddenly want him?

‘Wait, when was the wedding again? I never paid attention to the date’, Esther asked. She turned away from the window. Her lips were a flat line as she looked at Georgiana.

‘They were going to marry on the day they got engaged all those years ago, somewhere around the beginning of July… But, she’s been asking for a date at the end of January the last couple of weeks. Since the bans would already be read by then. She wanted a London wedding and claimed to not want to wait until the summer season.’

‘That soon?’ Charlotte asked in panic.

‘Oh, interesting. She doesn’t seem the type to suddenly change plans.’

‘She isn’t she’s a control freak.’

Esther walked away from the window.

‘How many weeks ago did she say that?’

‘I don’t know, the week before we left for London. Mrs. Campion had been visiting Sanditon since the ending of July, but always returned to London. She had already wanted Sidney to go because she was going to spend the entirety of the season there. Sidney wasn’t planning on going, but since you and Lord Babington and Mr. Crowe went, he felt inclined. Then Mrs. Campion returned and demanded he go, because she wanted a London wedding “where everyone could attend, and it would be such fun, perhaps there might even be snow.” And stuff’, Georgiana said, mimicking Mrs. Campion’s airs as she spoke the words.

‘Interesting’, Lady Susan concluded.

Esther’s eyes connected with those of Lady Susan.

‘I think, perhaps, our initial suggestion might not be so unfair to Mrs. Campion.’

‘Death?’ asked Georgiana with amusement.

‘Adultery… Miss Lambe, we need you. Please, try observing her as well as you can over the next few weeks’, begged Esther.

‘Look how she responds to food. Does she get ill, nauseous, refrain from eating certain things… Check how often she feels faint-headed, or says she’s indisposed or ill.If possible, try to determine whether her face is getting rounder, or the silhouette of her dress is changing’, Lady Susan instructed.

‘Why?’ asked Charlotte, who just like Georgiana, didn’t know what the married women were aiming at.

‘They’re signs of pregnancy.’

‘You think Mrs. Campion might be – that?’

‘Why would a woman, with more than enough money to provide for herself, want a husband beneath her in rank and wealth? Love, one might say, good enough. But why suddenly love a man you haven’t spoken to in years, and were able to give up years ago? Why suddenly marry half a year sooner than planned, if she herself suggested the original date? Perhaps she’s been in a relationship for months, and wanted Sidney as an insurance that should she become pregnant, there’d be a father and no scandal, but it could have already happened, and now she has to speed up her plans.’

Esther and Georgiana were smiling now.

But Charlotte wasn’t faring too well.

‘She’s using him again. Leaving him and taking him depending on what’s useful. Are we to let her marry him?’

‘She’d be cast out if she became pregnant whilst unmarried, no matter her money. It practically makes no difference, the scandal would be as large as it would be if there was a divorce… The only thing which would be different, would be who the money belongs to.’

‘But to have Sidney go through a wedding and a divorce…’

‘She has to marry someone or she’s ruined, and he’s so desperate for her money, that it wouldn’t matter if he discovered about her condition shortly before the marriage.’

‘So she has to marry someone, and Sidney will take her on out of loyalty for Tom.’

And then.

Like a snowflake falling out of the sky,

Twirling in the wind,

A thought formed,

And slowly solidified as it floated through her head,

Until it hit her.

‘She doesn’t have to marry him. If our guess is right, she wanted Sidney because he was wealthy enough and she liked him. She also knew he needed her money and would take her back. It was a good situation for her, if she got pregnant, the child would be born within a marriage. She’s known Sidney before and she knows that Sidney would be too good a man to go through the trouble and humiliation to divorce her, should he discover her relationship. But she hasn’t taken into account that he loves someone else. She hasn’t taken into account anyone discovering before it happens. We can blackmail her. We can inform her that we know. There’s no time left to entrap another husband. She has to marry. But she has no choice as to who she marries. We can force her to marry into the family, that way her money is ours, but she gets to keep her social life, and her child won’t have to grow up in poverty, its name forever coated in scandal.’

‘That still means they have to marry.’ Everyone was visibly confused.

‘No, she has to marry a Parker, not that Parker in particular. It doesn’t matter which brother gets the money. There are two single Parker brothers, and they’d both willingly give the money to Tom.’

‘You mean we should put… Mr. Arthur through a marriage to that woman?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

‘That would solve our problems… But it would force him to be with that woman for the rest of his life’, Lady Babington sighed. ‘It doesn’t seem like the best solution.’

‘Actually, the more I think of it, the better I think it would be. I have an advantage none of you have. For some reason, he has taken it upon himself to befriend me, grumpy and unwilling as I was to make friends. Now, I might be betraying his confidence, but it’s essential that you know. If you know, you might understand why I think he would agree.’

All other women were silent as they looked at her, hope, interest and confusion written in their eyes.

‘Firstly, Arthur Parker would do everything for his brothers. Secondly, he’s a happy go lucky guy, even Mrs. Campion’s awful mood wouldn’t be able to break his spirits, rather, his spirits would annoy her and she’d have to live with him for the rest of her life. Thirdly, he loves children, no matter whose they are. Fourthly, the changes of Arthur marrying were already quite slim to begin with. And the chances of him marrying and procuring children even slimmer. This would actually be a solution to his problem, since it would give Arthur and heir, and she’s possibly the only woman who’d agree to marry him. She has no choice but accept him.’

‘Why?’

‘Arthur Parker doesn’t like women. He never has. Not in a romantic way. If he were to marry, it would be a marriage from which no children would come, few women would agree to that. But Mrs. Campion has no choice, and has a child on the way.’

‘Oh my.’

‘Heavens.’

‘The chances of such a thing…’

‘Are you sure he would agree, it’s still Her?’ Charlotte asked. She was the least surprised of the three.

‘I believe so, I could write to him?’

‘Shouldn’t we wait until we know she’s with child?’ Lady Susan asked.

‘It’s snowing. Post will be slow, and we have to act fast. We have to know of her pregnancy and the youngest Mr. Parker’s willingness by the middle of December, so that there’s enough time for the bans to be read and the preparations to be made’, Lady Babington replied.

All women stared at the snow twirling past the window.

‘So… If we are lucky, we have found a solution?’ Esther asked.

‘’It seems so’, Lady Susan replied.

‘Charlotte, we don’t want to encourage you to hope, but we just want you to know that we’re here for you. To listen, and to help should you wish.’

‘Thank you all. The last months have been… Certainly something… Thanks for going through the trouble. I’m not hoping for a magical solution, I think I’ll only believe there to be one when I see it happening. The past year has made me realize that I’ve been overly open and overly trusting and optimistic. I’ve quite lost that spirit now, which I believe is a good thing, but still, it would be nice to have the guarantee that some things could get better.’

☼☼☼☼☼

Hugs and support were given, and by dinner time all left for their homes. Georgiana asked Lady Susan whether there were particular foods known to agitate a pregnant woman, which there were, and lo and behold, the next day when Mrs. Campion arrived for dinner, it didn’t even take a full ten minutes for her to scowl and stare at the soup, which she didn’t eat a lot of. Then came the first course, and her face paled further as she subtly held her hand in front of her throat. When Mr. Parker asked her whether she was alright, she smiled sweetly and claimed to have been feeling bad all day. But the real spectacle came during the main course, when a very red piece of meat was served, barely cooked.

After the two previous courses, she’d already gotten pale but when the servants lifted the lids of the main course, she didn’t need more than a sniff to jump upright and run away.

Georgiana couldn’t explain her laughter to Mrs. Griffiths or her brother. A laughter that didn’t disappear by the time she went to bed. She didn’t want to report back to the ladies because of a single event though, so the next couple of days she kept looking and testing, until, after three dinners had gone by during which Mrs. Campion had become unwell, and two cancelled dinners because Mrs. Campion was “indisposed”, Georgiana felt certain enough in her observing to report back. She asked the ladies over for tea, and as she reported her findings, a letter arrived for her. It was by Arthur Parker.

He agreed, that if it were the case, he would gladly assist.

☼☼☼☼☼

By the middle of December, Arthur arrived, Sidney was informed, and Mrs. Campion was confronted. She was shocked at having been found out, and surprised by the suggestion of the Parkers. But she found herself, as Georgiana had predicted, unable to refuse. And on the 24th of December, the bans announcing the wedding of Mr. Arthur Parker and Mrs. Eliza Campion were read. It was more of a Christmas Miracle than any of them had ever experienced or read about.

And, when those blue snowflakes started falling again on the 1st of February, they were wed. Sidney and Charlotte had a lot to sort through, her trust and heart had been broken, and if it hadn’t been for Charlotte’s friends, he’d have been stuck in a loveless marriage. But, the love was still there, through it all. It took time, for Charlotte to grow comfortable with her feelings again, and she and Mr. Parker spend a lot of time rebuilding and solidifying their bond, which had always been tumultuous, but by the time the winter left their country, their bond was blooming and an engagement was announced.

And Georgiana, despite her initial reservations, had to admit that Charlotte had managed to bring out the best behaviour in him. She had even succeeded in mending the bond between Georgiana and Sidney.

And truth be told, if Charlotte smiled so much, and Sidney was so desperately in love he couldn’t even pretend to be gruff anymore, Georgiana could only be happy for them.

[oldsolidbooks]

The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed. `He is as beautiful as a weathercock,' remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; `only not quite so useful,' he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

`Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?' asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. `The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.'

`I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,' muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

`He looks just like an angel,' said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.

`How do you know?' said the Mathematical Master, `you have never seen one.'

`Ah! but we have, in our dreams,' answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

`Shall I love you?' said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

`It is a ridiculous attachment,' twittered the other Swallows, `she has no money, and far too many relations;' and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. `She has no conversation,' he said, `and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.' And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. `I admit that she is domestic,' he continued, `but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.'

`Will you come away with me?' he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

`You have been trifling with me,' he cried, `I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!' and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. `Where shall I put up?' he said; `I hope the town has made preparations.'

Then he saw the statue on the tall column. `I will put up there,' he cried; `it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.' So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

`I have a golden bedroom,' he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. `What a curious thing!' he cried, `there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.'

Then another drop fell.

`What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?' he said; `I must look for a good chimney-pot,' and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw

- Ah! what did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

`Who are you?' he said.

`I am the Happy Prince.'

`Why are you weeping then?' asked the Swallow; `you have quite drenched me.'

`When I was alive and had a human heart,' answered the statue, `I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.'

`What, is he not solid gold?' said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

`Far away,' continued the statue in a low musical voice, `far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.'

`I am waited for in Egypt,' said the Swallow. `My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.'

`I don't think I like boys,' answered the Swallow. `Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.'

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. `It is very cold here,' he said; `but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.'

`Thank you, little Swallow,' said the Prince.

So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.

He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. `How wonderful the stars are,' he said to her, and how wonderful is the power of love!'

`I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,' she answered; `I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.'

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. `How cool I feel,' said the boy, `I must be getting better;' and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. `It is curious,' he remarked, `but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.'

`That is because you have done a good action,' said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. `What a remarkable phenomenon,' said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. `A swallow in winter!' And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

`To-night I go to Egypt,' said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, `What a distinguished stranger!' so he enjoyed himself very much. When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. `Have you any commissions for Egypt?' he cried; `I am just starting.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `will you not stay with me one night longer?'

`I am waited for in Egypt,' answered the Swallow. `To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the prince, `far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.'

`I will wait with you one night longer,' said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. `Shall I take him another ruby?'

`Alas! I have no ruby now,' said the Prince; `my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.'

`Dear Prince,' said the Swallow, `I cannot do that;' and he began to weep.

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `do as I command you.'

So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

`I am beginning to be appreciated,' he cried; `this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,' and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. `Heave a-hoy!' they shouted as each chest came up. `I am going to Egypt!' cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

`I am come to bid you good-bye,' he cried.

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `will you not stay with me one night longer?'

`It is winter,' answered the Swallow, `and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.'

`In the square below,' said the Happy Prince, `there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.'

`I will stay with you one night longer,' said the Swallow, `but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `do as I command you.'

So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. `What a lovely bit of glass,' cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. `You are blind now,' he said, `so I will stay with you always.'

`No, little Swallow,' said the poor Prince, `you must go away to Egypt.'

`I will stay with you always,' said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.

All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

`Dear little Swallow,' said the Prince, `you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.'

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm. `How hungry we are!' they said. `You must not lie here,' shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

`I am covered with fine gold,' said the Prince, `you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.'

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. `We have bread now!' they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door where the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. `Good-bye, dear Prince!' he murmured, `will you let me kiss your hand?'

`I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.' `It is not to Egypt that I am going,' said the Swallow. `I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?'

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: `Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!' he said.

`How shabby indeed!' cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.

`The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,' said the Mayor; `in fact, he is little better than a beggar!'

`Little better than a beggar' said the Town councillors.

`And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!' continued the Mayor. `We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.' And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. `As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,' said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. `We must have another statue, of course,' he said, `and it shall be a statue of myself.'

`Of myself,' said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

`What a strange thing!' said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. `This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.' So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

`Bring me the two most precious things in the city,' said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

`You have rightly chosen,' said God, `for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.'

[crowkingwrites]

War Creatures (Ch. 12)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary:  In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father’s army will join Odin’s army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Words: 2650

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108748/chapters/27758892

After a little over a month, we almost arrived at Hornvale. Loki and I had greeted the first banner men to guide us the rest of the way. We rode in front of everyone else. I looked behind me, and I noticed the exhaustion and the frustration of being on the road for that long. I was tired too.

Loki wore his green and gold attire, and I matched. My dress was mainly green, but Elise had added golden leaves to it to be similar to Loki’s. The more we looked like a married couple, the better. Of course, one thing I didn’t think about was the colder weather. We were going north, and very few of my dresses were not built for the north.

“Lia?” Loki called out to me. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I told him.

“No, you’re not,” Loki responded. “You’re rigid. What’s wrong? Are you nervous? Because I can assure you, you could read and write circles around my brother and his wife.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m cold,” I admitted to him.

“Oh,” Loki went to undo his cloak.

“What are you doing?” I watched him take off his thick green cloak and hand it to me.

“Take it,” he offered to me. “I’m used to this climate. You’re not.” I took his cloak, and wrapped it around me. I noticed the metal snakes. When I clicked them together, I realized they were the same snakes from his journal.

“These snakes,” I commented. “They are not your house sigil.”

“You noticed,” Loki almost chuckled. “They are my sigil.”

“Are you not proud of your own house?” I asked him. Loki hummed.

“You’ll see.” We entered into the gates of Hornvale. I saw soldiers and knights in red scattered everywhere. They mixed themselves with Hornvale soldiers. Hornvale was set on hill, so the walls were not high. It seemed like a thick and wide fortress in the middle of a forest.

“Brother!” I heard someone bellow out. I heard Loki groan and get off his horse. I looked in the direction of the greeting and saw a muscular blonde come walking towards us. Another young woman followed him.

“Hello, Thor,” Loki greeted begrudgingly. Thor hugged Loki tightly. He was just as tall as Loki, but not as thin. Thor had a warrior’s stature. His smile stretched for days. He was like a golden sun in the north. They couldn’t be any more different from each other. If I had to guess, I wouldn’t even think of them as brothers.

“And this must be Lady Cecelia of Highgarden, or should I say of Pyke?” Thor smiled down at me. I offered him my hand, but he came in for a hug. I felt him crushing me. “You are just as beautiful as mother described!” I felt myself blush.

“T-thank you?” I said. Thor let go of me, but he did not stop smiling. The woman stopped next to him and smiled at both of us too.

“I knew mother was right,” Thor commented. “Both of you look unstoppable together.” Unstoppable? I looked at Loki hoping he could explain some of this to me.

“I’ll explain later,” Loki said to me in my ear.

“This is my beautiful wife, Sif,” Thor gestured to the woman next to him. She only looked a couple years older than me. Her thick, dark hair cascaded around her. She wore a deep red dress with gold embroidery. She had a golden necklace around her neck that looked heavier than a dagger. She was of Casterly Rock, and she showed it.

“You must be Lady Cecelia,” she held out her hands for me. I took them. She kissed my cheek. “I believe we are going to be good friends. Welcome to Hornvale.” Sif let go of my hands and took Thor’s hand. She leaned against him.

“How was your ride here?” Thor asked.

“It was long,” Loki obviously did not like this small talk. I watched Sif entwined her fingers with Thor’s and I felt a pang of jealousy inside me.

“So much has been happening,” Sif said to all of us. “First, the weddings, and then the battles, and now you’re here! How did everyone fare at Highgarden?”

“We lost a few,” Loki told her. He glanced at me and then back at Sif. “It could have been worse if I had to be honest.”

“Well, I think Lady Cecelia is lucky to have you protecting her. Thor protected me with everything he had,” Sif placed her hand on Thor’s chest. He kissed her on her head. I felt my stomach drop. They loved each other so much. “Our children will be so safe with their father watching over them.”

“You’re with child, my lady? So soon?” I asked. Sif giggled.

“Not yet. I am a bit ahead of myself. I cannot wait for the day I carry my husband’s children. It would be honor,” Sif smiled.

“It would be an honor for the both of us, my lady,” Thor kissed Sif’s hand. He lost himself in her eyes. I looked away. It hurt. It hurt to watch someone else have the marriage I wanted. I wanted to be so hopelessly in love at first sight like that. I couldn’t let Loki know that especially not after the past month. We had been getting along so nicely with each other even if we hadn’t consummated our marriage yet.

I let my eyes wander to Sif’s belly. Did Loki want to have children? Did he like children? Thor’s mouth oved and I didn’t hear exactly what he said, but we started to move throughout the castle. Nowhere in Loki’s journal did he mention his desire to have children. Maybe it was something he didn’t think about? No, he had to. He was in love with someone else. He had to have thought about it.

I felt Sif interlock her arm with mine, and I snapped out of my thoughts.

“Lia, I heard that House Gardener is always lost in thought. Seeing you, I’m assuming that’s true,” she smiled at me. Part of her hair swayed forward.

“I apologize, my lady,” I shook my head.

“Oh no, don’t apologize. Don’t call me your lady either. You are not my servant. You are my sister. Call me Sif,” her gold chain jingled. She was so kind. Whenever an ambassador visited Highgarden from Casterly Rock, they would always be decorated in gold chains. Sometimes their pompous and arrogant attitude would put me off, but Sif was an exception.

“Forgive me, Sif. I have never been outside of Highgarden before. I had always assumed those of Casterly Rock thought they were better and richer than everyone else,” I admitted to her.

“That’s half-true, I would think. Most of my father’s advisors and men think themselves better than everyone else simply because their cloaks and weapons are made of gold. Speaking of assumptions, is it true that your father filtered news of the capital to you?”

“It is true,” I sighed. “I did not know of the true horrors of the capital until just recently.”

“They are horrific. The actions of our King make me sick inside, but this rebellion will change that. Odin will be king, and all of this will go away, hopefully.”

“Have you met him?”

“Oh yes, he attended our wedding,” Sif began. “He was very happy for Thor and I. He even danced with me that night. He’s a very good dancer, I would say. He offered kind words to me, but he also assured me that this alliance would prove to be fruitful. He promised me that when he takes the throne, he would make it safe for his grandchildren and any child here in the nine kingdoms.”

I never thought about it. Of course, Loki and Thor’s father would take the throne. I hadn’t met Odin, but from what Sif said, he seemed to be the right kind of man for the job.

“Has Thor told you what your next move is?” I asked Sif. Thor and Loki still walked ahead of us, speaking to each other.

“Next move?” Sif kept her arm in mine.

“Where are you going after here? What you are going to do?” Sif shook her head.

“Thor and I don’t talk about those things,” Sif told me. “Not because he doesn’t wish to. Thor shares everything with me, he trusts me. I just prefer not to know.”

“Why?”

“Battle plans and travelling in dangerous places seem abstract when you speak about them, but when they actually happen it’s different. Sometimes things don’t go according to plan. Things change. I would rather not have an expectation of what the future holds.”

“The battle at your home,” I trailed off.

“Yes, we were all ill-prepared,” Sif looked down and away from me. “We lost quite a few that night, including my septa. She was so good to me. The original plan was for me to go to you actually. I was supposed to meet Frigga, but then the traitor happened.” Sif’s eyes narrowed and her grip tightened.

“The traitor. Was he close to your family?”

“Yes,” Sif answered. We turned down another hallway. We watched soldiers march beside us two by two. They headed off to the training grounds I assumed to meet with Loki and I’s army. “He worked for my father. My father noted that he had been vocal about their different opinions. The traitor thought the boy army was a good idea. Training and raising little boys to be career warriors is what the nine kingdoms needs.”

The soldiers moved past us. Some of them were older and experienced. They moved slower than the others, but their postures were upright. They were proud to serve their house. The younger soldiers slouched, and some of them were scared, but they hid it well.

“If that traitor never went off, my septa would be here with me now,” Sif continued. “And we would have met earlier under safer circumstances in Highgarden.”

“Did your septa love gardens?” I wasn’t an idiot, but I knew when was compassion was needed. Sif nodded her head. “She would have loved Highgarden. The whole palace is a garden.”

“I heard how beautiful it is,” Sif commented. “Tell me more.” I held onto Sif as we walked towards our unknown destination. I took Sif on a mental tour of the gardens hoping that it would ease her thoughts away from the battle at Casterly Rock.

We stopped in front of a set of doors. They weren’t as ornate as Highgarden, but they were practical, like the Braxes.

“This is where you’ll both be staying,” Thor announced to us. I nearly froze. Both of us will stay in the same room. I side-eyed Loki, and he met my eyes. He had the same feeling.

“Thank you, brother,” Loki nodded with a dry tone. “I’m sure my wife and I will find it comfortable.” He wringed his hands together. We didn’t match each other’s gazes.

We entered the room to see a decently sized bed and all the amenities. The Braxes always favored practical use over decorative use. Everything from the tables and soft chairs were made of wood from the trees just outside their castle. Their craftsmanship was never rivaled.

Their beige curtains and blankets covered the room. Their biggest masterpiece was the fireplace which had an enormous stag head hanging above it. It stared forward with its dead eyes. Its horns looked sharp and polished.

“This won’t be as bad as we think it will be, right?” I asked Loki for validation.

“No, but I did promise my honesty to you,” Loki looked around. “It doesn’t look good. We haven’t slept together since the battle.”

“You were a good sleeper.”

“I was exhausted. I’m still exhausted,” Loki started a fire in the fireplace. It sparked alive in a small flame, and grew slowly. We both grew quiet as the small fire crackled and burned along the logs. I studied Loki’s face. The new light highlighted his face. “You’re wondering what’s on my mind.”

“I am,” I acknowledged. Loki stood up and sat again in one of the handcrafted chairs. His fingers ran over his bottom lip.

“A lot is on my mind. I was wondering why you read my journal. Why you would invade someone else’s privacy like that.”

“Are you still angry with me?” I sat across from him.

“No,” Loki simply answered. “I’m just curious. I was upset the day my father told me I was to be married to you. After I stormed off, my mother found me. She told me all about you. How kind you were, how intelligent you are, how you loved to read. That we would good for each other.

“Of course, I knew my mother would never lie to me, but I had to confirm it all. I talked to people from different kingdoms. All of them agreed on one thing with you that you were a beautiful person inside and out. So why? Why would you have done an awful thing like that?”

I had thought about what Loki said. I looked down at my hands. I knew from the beginning that it was wrong to read his personal thoughts.

“I wanted to know you,” I began. “Your parents gave you the luxury of time and knowledge of this marriage. I had no idea it was coming. They just told me, and the next day you were there. Everything felt so rushed, and I was scared.”

“Scared of marrying me?”

“No. Yes. Scared of my idea of marriage and a husband being broken,” I frowned and bit my lip. “I wanted to know what kind of a person you were. My mother warned me about you. I was told how cruel you were. She told me to be careful with you. I wanted to believe that you were different. I wanted to know you.

“I wanted to know if there’s a difference between the Dark Prince and Loki. When I read your books, I saw the small opinions and thoughts you had. They were so poignant and deeply thought out. I wanted more. You never accepted any of my invitations, so I felt desperate. Reading your journal was wrong, but I felt so close to you. Knowing who you were, who you grew up to be fascinated me.”

“You’re fascinated by me?”

“Yes. I must admit that I have a hunger to know you. You’re very interesting to me.” Loki stood up and walked over to me. His fingers touched my hands.

“No one has told me that before,” he said. “In the future, would you be interested in hearing about my thoughts more often?” I nodded my head.

“Yes, I would, but I think for right now, we should rest,” I eyed the bed. “We had a long journey.”

“May I sleep with you again? Just like after the battle? Nothing has to happen. We can just sleep next to each other,” Loki asked. I nodded my head. A warmth flushed over me. Sleeping with a man still hasn’t matured me even if he was my husband. I had hoped Loki didn’t see it. Did he know I was a virgin? Was he a virgin? There was so much inside my head and all of it was burning me inside.

I took off my green dress and I let my white tunic air out. I crawled into the bed quickly as I could. This whole ‘sleeping together’ thing was still embarrassing to me, but I couldn’t hurt his feelings. Not now. He made vows to me, and he was doing his best in keeping them. I must do the same.

I had to try. I wasn’t angry anymore, but I wasn’t in love with him. He was a friend. Only a friend.

[mckirkings]

Of Mustangs and Slow Smiles - Chapter 2

A 13 Reasons Why Clay Jensen/Tony Padilla Fanfiction

AO3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12631431/chapters/28939563

Summary:

Sometimes distance is all you need. From a place; idea. From people. It’s replenishing, distance.

That’s why Clay is so excited to go on a summer trip with his best friend Tony. To get away from everything that has bogged him down during the worst year of his whole life. To come to terms with things, good or bad. Maybe even enter a new stage of his life, if he has the courage.

Because when did Tony become everything to him? How can he chance something more if he has nobody else?

Chapters:

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

(For tags, please see the AO3 link.)

Chapter 2: Cabin on The River

Length: 4,478

The sun was almost directly overhead; Clay was sure he’d be burning like an ant under a magnifying glass if it wasn’t for the shady (but eerily wilted) tree protecting their spot on the hood of the car. He knew the Central Valley was hot during a large part of the year, but it felt even hotter now with the summer sun out fresh and beaming. The almost nonexistent breeze didn’t help much either since it was dry and sandy. Still though, eating lunch on the hood of Tony’s Mustang in some abandoned parking lot on the outskirts of a tiny town, one that looked like it was ran by a cult, couldn’t get any better. Even if farmland and hazy sky were the only things he could see in any direction.

Clay leaned over in an attempt to nab a fry out of Tony’s basket only to be blocked by a swift hand wrapping around his fingers. “No you don’t. You’ve already finished all your own—these babies are mine.”

“I gave you my pickles and you’re repaying me by cutting off my fry supply?”

Tony leveled him with a mildly exasperated expression, or the best equivalent Tony could manage through a pair of sunglasses, and let go of Clay’s hand. Clay hadn’t even realized their hands were still connected. “Yup.”

“Wha—! Fine. But we need to go back and get some more when we leave.”

It seemed like Tony was making a point of slowly eating a fry. “Sounds like a plan. We need to pick up some milkshakes too.”

“Yeah… Wasn't that the whole reason we stopped anyway? Lunch and shakes?”

“That and I needed a break. I have no idea how we forgot the shakes though, it’s damn hot out.”

So hot that Tony had removed his leather jacket miles ago, and Clay his hoodie. “This isn’t normal, this has to be climate change in action. It’s only June and it’s already the hottest year on record.”

Tony nodded and kept eating his fries, surveying the cracked domain of their parking lot, the asphalt practically steaming under the direct sun. After Tony finished he wiped his hands and bagged their trash, gracefully hopping off the hood moments later. “C’mon Clay, let’s go get us some shakes.”

Clay smiled and slipped off the hood, scrambling into the car as Tony started the engine. Luckily the seat wasn’t scaldingly hot like Clay feared, probably due to it basking in the shade for the last 30 minutes. Tony glanced at Clay as he got comfortable, making sure he was buckled up, and since it was his turn he popped in a tape as they sped out of the parking lot.

Clay lost himself in the beat of the music, watching the creepy small town pass by on the way back to the vintage drive-thru they found earlier. “Do you think it’ll be this hot when we get up to the river?”

“Probably not. We’ll be in the shade of all those trees and the river will barely be out the back door. It’ll be hot for sure, but not like this.”

“A swim sounds so refreshing right about now,” Clay said, tugging at his T-shirt collar where sweat had begun to collect, “I seriously need to get out of these clothes.”

Clay could have swore Tony’s cheeks turned a richer shade of brown. “Yeah… First thing I’m doing when we get there…”

Clay nodded, looking forward to the coolness of a slow moving river. He refused to dwell upon the image of shirtless Tony that popped into his mind, detailed tattoos and all. Instead he turned so his face received a full blast of the hot air speeding through the window. It dried his sweat, if achieving nothing else.

Tony turned down the music as they pulled up to the old streamlined diner, still cool looking even though it was half rundown and deserted in the middle of the day. It was the promise of a drive-thru that wasn’t one of the usual international fast-food chains that beckoned them originally.

The dented intercom fizzed for a second before cutting off abruptly, a bored voice replacing the mechanical noise, “Welcome to Kasper’s, home of the quadruple-stack philly cheesesteak, how may I take your order?”

“Huh…” Tony pushed up his sunglasses so he could examine the menu easier. The shake section was particularly beat-up and sun-bleached, which is probably why they missed it earlier. “I’d like a small Oreo shake and—“ He quickly glanced to Clay questioningly.

“Chocolate. Large.”

“—And a large chocolate shake. And a side of fries, please.”

The attendant repeated back their order and they pulled up to the window. After a brief exchange of money Tony was handing Clay his shake and fries, just the chill of the cup alone was refreshing.

“Thank you for your business…” The miserable attendant sighed, someone who had to be her manager suddenly looming behind her and lightly smacking her shoulder with a clipboard, “…And have a Kaspertastic day…”

Tony paused for an awkward second, “…Thanks, have a nice day.” And they drove off, sliding out onto the two-lane interstate.

Clay let out the laugh he was holding, “Kaspertastic?!”

Tony shook his head and cracked a grin. “I’m at a true loss for words.”

Clay took a long sip of his shake, the chocolatey goodness soothing its way down his throat. “That’s way worse than the butter spiel we had to give at the Crestmont—” And there he was thinking about Hannah again, but it didn't hurt as much as it usually did. “—At least these shakes are tastier than burnt popcorn.”

Tony sucked on his straw with one hand and maneuvered the Mustang with professional ease through a slip lane with the other. “I hope that large lasts you, this is all the cold we’re gonna get until we make it to the cabin. We’re barely halfway there.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Just make sure you don't get any condensation rings on the leather. You’ll suffer the consequences if you do—and the consequences are steep.”

Clay looked at Tony with disbelief and narrowed eyes, the barely perceptible curve to Tony’s lips the only sign he wasn't completely serious. Clay rolled his eyes, “Sheesh, okay grandpa…”

“For some reason I doubt your grandpa sounds anything like me.”

Tony’s raised eyebrows shouldn’t crack Clay up like they did, but he just couldn't help himself. Tony was right—his grandpa sounded nothing like him. The slow smile crossing Tony’s face at Clay’s very dignified giggles was even better though, replacing the earlier inquisitive expression that Clay found both funny and adorable.

“What?” Tony was still smiling, looking a bit out of the loop.

Clay shook his head, “It’s nothing, you’re just… I don’t know, too much.” How could he explain to his best friend that he loved every single expression that graced his face?

He couldn’t—Clay had no idea where to begin when it came to that.

-~o~-

Shadows of the tall trees on either side of the winding road were long and dark, falling over the Mustang as it rumbled along. Beams of the low-hanging sun occasionally cast through the tree branches, covering Tony in a sporadic warm glow that Clay would have found tantalizingly beautiful if they both weren’t so irritated. They should have been on this road hours ago.

It wasn’t specifically either of their faults that they missed the turnoff; the road wasn’t marked well and they were both tired but ultimately enjoying the drive instead of paying attention. But lost time was still lost time.

They had stopped in Redding to get some groceries for the first week in the cabin and stretch their legs, and once they hopped back into the car and started the trek through the foothills leading to the mountains the scenery had become too welcome a distraction. Burbling brooks, colorful rocks, and freshly-scented trees were way more interesting than endless farmland and dust pits—the heat had also let up once they entered the deep wooded valleys closer to Mount Shasta. It was only once they reached the town of McArthur did Clay realize they missed their road a good 30 minutes behind them; they almost drove past it again going back the other direction.

Clay was just glad Tony wasn’t angry at him anymore, even though he was technically the navigator; and yeah, okay, it was mainly his fault, but still.

It wasn’t like angry Tony was particularly disconcerting either, Clay could only tell due to the pursing of his lips and general quiet he emanated, but Clay still felt bad every time he made Tony feel that way. He always felt like a burden when it happened, especially since the number of times Tony had made him mad in the last year could be counted on one hand. It always made him feel like a bad friend whenever it happened, and the thoughts associated with those feelings weren’t pretty. Admittedly though, Clay rarely caused Tony to get really angry (frustrated, maybe, but not angry) and he was relieved Tony always seemed to forgive him quickly, even if Clay didn’t say anything.

But that was just like Tony, always being such a good person.

He made sure to apologize this time, profusely, so now they were pretty much quiet and allowing the music to fill the silence rather than be actively listened to. Clay had his phone up in front of him, keeping an eye out both for the mailbox described in the Airbnb receipt and on the map detailing every curve they would have to take to get there.

They were close. Glimpses of the Pit River peeked through the trees as the road meandered against the slope of the hill—only to disappear over the guardrail at every turn. Clay didn’t allow the sights to catch his eye, he was paying close attention now.

“Wait, Tony! I think that was it!” Clay twisted around to get another look at the rusted mailbox slightly obscured by undergrowth, a narrow gravel driveway only just visible to its right.

The barely noticeable tension to Tony’s shoulders disappeared and he perked up. “Thanks Clay.”

Tony pulled a quick three-point turn and they were crunching over gravel in an instant, coming to a stop so Clay could make out the peeling numbers on the side of the mailbox.

Clay squinted. “Yup, the numbers match up. This is the place.”

Tony shifted in Clay’s direction, a tiny smile curling his lips, and patted Clay on the shoulder before switching gears and slowly driving the car down the sloping driveway. Clay relaxed at that smile, Tony obviously not disappointed in him anymore, if he ever was.

The trees were tight on either side of the Mustang, hemming them in. Clay craned his neck slightly out the window, the scent of earth and living matter pleasant and sweet, almost overwhelmingly refreshing. He could hear moving water too, the river getting closer. He felt oddly at peace, looking up at the towering redwoods before him, shafts of orange light warming his face and catching floating specks as they drifted through the forest.

“This place is so cool already,” Tony mentioned, carefully steering further down the driveway.

Clay nodded and kept looking out the window; the trees eventually parting to reveal a small gravel oval and a wide bend in the river, a short stone path leading down from the oval to the front door of the cabin. The cabin was right at the edge of the water, where it seemed to be flowing the slowest, hidden behind a few lone redwoods perched along a collapsing wooden fence to one side of the stone path. The cabin itself was small and had wide dark wood siding with big slate tiles covering the high roof. A few skylights pierced through the slate and alternating small windows dotted the walls, all framed by more dark wood. A chimney poked over the top of the cabin, and Clay could see the other side of the river and the forest there, along with the snow-capped tip of Mount Shasta.

Tony parked by the start of the path and they both eagerly hopped out, Clay taking a moment to look around and absorb the location. The light was stunning, the sun low and not visible, casting long rays over the forest and sparkling off the river. The aroma of nature pleasantly assaulted Clay’s nostrils, reminding him of the mulch his parents used for their backyard.

“It’s so magical here…”

Tony had his hands on his hips and he was looking around too, he turned and shot a dazzling grin Clay’s way. “Yeah, it is. Glad we finally made it!” He looked up at the mountains across the river and breathed in deeply, “Shame it’s too late to go swimming, the water looks nice.”

Clay was reaching into the back seat to grab his duffle, his smile dimming somewhat. ��Sorry about getting us lost, if we got here on time we could’ve swam.”

“It’s fine Clay. It was a harmless mistake, we’re all good now.” Tony came around the Mustang with a backpack over his shoulder and a smallish duffle dangling from one hand. Clay stood up with his bag, the look of restrained excitement on Tony’s face making him smile again. He made his way over to where Tony was waiting for him and was surprised when Tony’s free hand came to rest on his lower back, warmth spreading as Tony gently nudged Clay forward. “I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment for the last few miles there, I know it wasn’t on purpose. But now we’re here, let’s go check it out?”

Clay nodded and felt heat rise across his face. Tony was still really close, hand guiding him and making sure he didn’t fall as they walked across uneven stones. Clay wasn’t that clumsy, but the sentiment was nice. “I think the owner said the key is under that green pot next to the door.”

Sure enough it was. Tony retreated his hand to retrieve it, and after figuring out how the key fit into the door they were inside. Tony’s hand found its way back to where it was before, Clay feeling too much like that’s where it always belonged. He wondered if Tony knew what his casual touches were doing to him.

The inside of the cabin was small but well laid out. A bathroom was visible through a door to the right, and the kitchen was wide open to the left, only separated from the rest of the interior by a peninsula-like bar. Directly across from the front door, stretching across the opposite side of the cabin, was the living room. It was two stories tall with large windows facing the river and mountains, a deck and short dock visible just outside. Past the bar to the left was a fireplace made of smooth river stones, a comfy looking couch facing it, and to the right there was a staircase leading to the loft above, a tiny dining table pushed underneath.

Clay separated from Tony, his hand’s absence leaving a warm imprint, and dropped his duffle on the couch. He looked around, finding the quality of light astounding as it flowed golden through the windows overlooking the river. The kitchen looked really nice too, a pink binder on the bar catching Clay’s attention, immediately being drawn to it.

“This is a pretty sweet place we found,” Tony said. He placed his bags on the floor and went over to look out at the river, then turning around to look up to the loft. “There’s some kayaks out there, I wonder if we can use them.”

“I think we can…” Clay idly flipped a page of the binder and kept reading, “Yeah, it says here that they’re up for grabs. And there’s a map of hiking trails too… I guess there’s only one bed though, up there in the loft. But the couch is a foldout, any preferences?”

Tony toyed with the ring on his right hand, not responding for a second. “Nah, you decide. I’ll go bring in the groceries.”

Clay watched as Tony made a hasty exit, unsure why he left so quickly. He sighed, mentally kicking himself—he should’ve said there was only one bed. It was cheesy and probably wouldn’t have worked anyway, but having even the chance of sleeping in the same bed as Tony… No, it wouldn’t have worked even if there really was only one bed. If it came down to it Tony would’ve totally insisted on sleeping on the couch. Or the floor.

“Clay.”

Also tricking someone into bed, even if it wasn’t sexual, was messed up. If he wanted to share a bed with Tony he would just have to go about it the proper way and ask—

“Clay.”

“Huh?” Tony was staring at him, smiling sweetly. Clay flushed and looked down, embarrassed. “What? Need help, um, putting away groceries?”

“No, I did that while you were off in your own world.”

Clay really didn't like how red he was getting lately. “That’s a nice way of saying ‘zoned the fuck out’…”

Tony snickered, taking out a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. “I’m always nice, I thought you knew that.” He took a sip and leaned against the bar, on the kitchen side, “Have you decided yet? Loft or couch?”

“Uh, I think I’d like the couch. It looks pretty soft,” Clay muttered, turning another page of the binder. “And you’re always polite, but that’s different than nice.”

“There might be some truth to that, but I think being polite is kinda a prerequisite for being nice. For example; are you sure that you want the couch? I guarantee the bed is better and I did give you dibs, so…”

Clay waved him off, “No, I’m sure. Go, claim your oh-so-comfortable bed.”

Tony huffed an almost silent laugh, Clay was curious what he found so funny. He appeared to accept Clay’s demand though, grabbing his bags off the floor and heading up the stairs, each step creaking as Clay made his way over to the sliding glass door in the living room. There was a grill out on the deck with some lounge chairs, all covered in spindly cobwebs. The sky was that deep blue color that only occurred right before the sun set, everything that odd in-between of dark and light.

“You’re going to regret your decision when you see this bed, Clay!” Tony half-shouted over the loft railing.

“Then I’m not going to see it!” Clay half-shouted back. He could picture Tony’s curled lips and shaking head in response; yeah that’s exactly how Tony would respond.

Clay watched as the first signs of pink and orange started to enter to sky off to the west, tinging the clouds those same colors. The snowy tip of Mount Shasta just visible over the forested ridge across the river was turning gold with the light, the clouds collecting around the peak creating a dramatic orangish billow.

“There’s a grill too?” Tony’s hand rested lightly on Clay’s lower back again, and even though Clay wasn’t exactly tense he felt his joints reflexively relax. “Would you like me to grill up some of those sausages we bought for dinner?”

Clay turned his head, getting a full view of Tony’s expectant expression. How could a face be so perfect? “Uh, you can cook?”

“Of course. You don’t?”

“No, not really… I mean I can take care of myself if I have to, but like, I can’t really make anything from scratch. I’ve watched a lot of cooking shows with my dad, so I know ingredients and stuff, and in theory how to prepare them but… I’ve never really tried?” Tony was grinning at him again, the pressure of his hand greater than before. “…Um, some sausages sound great?”

The presence of Tony’s hand vanished, but Tony bumped his shoulder against Clay’s bicep instead. His smile was now smaller but no less intense; more private, something sweet and affectionate. “I can teach you if you want, it sounds like you just need to give it a try.”

Tony’s voice was so soft, normally light brown eyes golden in the light. Just like the snow. Clay could feel the heat in his cheeks and how it spread down to his chest. “That would, uh, be—that’s really, uh, cool. Of you—of you to suggest…”

Tony frowned, concerned eyes examining Clay’s face. “Are you okay man? No need to be nervous, it’s just cooking.”

Clay scratched the back of his neck, glancing out the window before looking back to Tony. Eye contact was so hard. “I think I’m just a bit tired… From the drive and all.”

“It’s been a long day,” Tony agreed.

“Yeah…” Clay felt his cheeks settle, he was curious what Tony made of all his blushing. “But I do want to learn how to cook. And, um, it’d be cool if you taught me. Just not now—too tired to focus.”

Tony’s smile was back, but only in the sense that the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Alright. Let’s do that some other time then, for now I’ll go prep the sausages. Can you get rid of the spiderwebs and make sure the grill works?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Tony clapped Clay on the shoulder and headed to the kitchen. Even though the way Tony constantly kept in contact with him was starting to cause Clay some problems, he still loved them—the easy touches that told him Tony cared. Even if it wasn’t in a romantic way.

Clay opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck, the woody scent of the cabin immediately replaced by the smell of water teeming with life and the earthy aroma of deck oil. It was noticeably cooler now too, the sky wholly in sunset mode with a burst of color to the west.

There was a greasy rag hanging off the grill, Clay took it and wiped off all the spiderwebs encasing the legs and hood. He then wiped the deck chairs, afterwards hanging the rag over the railing. Clay crouched down and opened the compartment under the grill, it looked like the propane tank was properly disconnected and just had to be hooked up again. There was a chance it wouldn’t work, what with the tank having sat for so long, but Clay gave it a try and connected the tubing and opened the valve on the tank, just like his dad showed him when they used to do backyard barbecues. He stood up and flipped open the hood, examining the dials. When he determined the master burner Clay flipped it on and hoped the grill would spark to life.

It did, just as the door slid open behind him.

Tony nodded to the flames, setting the platter he was holding down on the grill’s left side tray. It was laden with sausages and a pair of tongs. “That’s one fancy grill, we should get some more meat so we can take advantage of it.”

“Yeah that’d be cool—“ Clay stopped short when he turned to see empty air where Tony was nanoseconds before. Tony could be shockingly stealthy and light on his feet when he wanted to be, even with how bulky he was getting. “Hey! Where’d you go?”

“Just getting these,” Tony said, exiting the cabin brandishing a beer in each hand. “Hope they had enough time to chill…”

Clay took the bottle Tony offered him, recognizing the brand from the mini-fridge in the Padilla’s garage. “How’d you get these?”

Tony opened his bottle using some trick against the edge of the grill. “I had Mateo buy some cases for us before we left. I thought you noticed when we put the groceries in the trunk?”

“Obviously not, it’s cool though… I thought we’d be dry this whole trip.” Clay stood there with the lukewarm bottle weeping condensation in his hand, unsure what to do. They usually had a bottle opener in the garage for when they occasionally drank back home.

Tony took a swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing distractingly, “I don’t think it’d be a vacation in the forest if we couldn’t indulge a little whenever we wanted.” Tony smiled in Clay’s direction and noticed his problem, taking Clay’s bottle and repeating the trick to open it.

“Thanks!” Clay took a small sip, when he drank he liked to keep it slow. Tony and him were pretty similar in that way. “This was a nice surprise.”

“That’s what I was aiming for,” Tony said, gesturing with his beer to mountains across the river. “What’s better than a cold beer, good company, and an amazing view?”

“…Okay, now you seriously sound like my grandpa.”

Tony laughed, brief but musical, and smirked. He picked up the tongs with his free hand and began to place the sausages on the grill. “It’s the simple pleasures, Clay. Take a cue from your grandpa and learn to enjoy them.”

Clay rolled his eyes and settled down into one of the lounge chairs, stretching out to find maximum comfort. “Yeah… Guess I should try. Not like your advice has led me astray before.”

Tony did a little shake of his head that told Clay he was silently laughing; his warm eyes glancing Clay’s way before focusing back on the grill, taking another swig. Clay could see the happiness practically radiate off his friend and thought it suited him nicely. Tony was someone who was wound pretty tight most of the time, when they were at school or around other people. Just like Clay—though Tony passed it off as ‘uninterested cool’ while Clay could only manage ‘socially inept’.

It pleased him greatly that he was the one Tony allowed to see through the layers he put up for everyone else, even his past boyfriends. Even though Clay couldn’t find it in himself to confess his feelings to Tony, not yet at least, he knew that Tony was closer to him than anyone else. Clay allowed him through his own layers too.

The smell of applewood smoked chicken sausages wafted around them, Clay taking little sips of his beer as the sky turned from orange and pink to deep violet and blue. They exchanged sarcastic jokes, the beer creating that numbness in Clay’s mind that he craved every now and then, Tony’s laughs and quips making Clay all tingly in an inexplicable way. He could hear nocturnal life awake around them in the forest, and Clay felt himself awaken too, allowing himself to let go.

At least in that moment.