#one where she was being kept prisoner on her home until she killed herself. and lwj found her. same author. they got it

[llycaons]

I know it doesn't always make sense for the author to stick close to the canon mama lan situation but I fundamentally disagree with making them a happy or in love couple by the time she died

[leclerced]

Imagine being in an arranged marriage with Mafia Lando and you know hes not to be trusted and he is just so sweet to you but you know the horrors of how that can change. But here comes body guard Oscar and you hate that your falling for him all the while you're warming Lando's bed and falling in love with him too. Everything coming to ahead when you're taken and Lando looses his shit

cleaning out drafts and i’m not sure where this was going because it was months ago!

she’s not a stranger to violence, coming from a gang family herself, but that doesn’t mean she’s happy to be a line in the contract that forms their alliance. she remembers the day they had the meeting, when lando curled a finger to her, sitting on her father’s right side, and said, “you want peace, i want her.” she was surprised her family didn’t kill him and his gang then and there, but they were in enemy territory and they were always gracious guests out of respect. an hour later, a new contract had been worked up and lando and her father were toasting over whiskey as they traded contracts and signed each other’s copies. then slid them to her for her agreement, it felt like there was a loaded gun pointed to her head when lando held out the pen towards her, smirking. she knew there would be one pointed at her, and likely firing before she could, if she drew hers like she desperately wanted to, so she took the pen and signed her life away to him. she knew it was for a good cause, they had captured her two brother's the weekend prior, this was all orchestrated for their release and she had talked a big game about doing anything to save them. now she was.

she never left the villa with her family, she tried to, but one of lando's guards stepped in front of her and lando said, "either she stays, or the sons do." she tried reasoning that she needed her belongings, and he commanded two more of his guards to get on moving duty and collect everything from her penthouse. the fact that he knew about the penthouse chilled her. it was a well kept secret, or she thought it was. the one below hers had been bought out and converted into security base for her apartment. there were round the clock guards to prevent anyone but her from even entering the floor, and her father had convinced the owners to update the elevator to need a key code to access her floor. she wondered how he knew and what else he knew, and didn’t want to stay long enough to find out, but was given no choice. her brothers called her an hour later, saying she should have let them die before signing her life away, and she almost agrees, but says she loves the two of them too much. at least i will still be able to see you, eventually, she reasons.

she’s not used to having a guard by her side at all times. she was always being followed by guards but no one would dare threaten anyone in her family. she wasn’t constantly accompanied until the norris family came to town. it wasn’t a family like hers, not generations building an underground empire. no, he had built his family in the last few years, had hand picked each of his most trusted advisors and anyone else in his new gang. while her father relied on his brothers, cousins, and eventually children when they were adults, lando had grown his empire from the ground up with what seemed like childhood friends to her. she watched the way they laughed and joked with each other, how his villa seemed so homely despite feeling like a prison to her. her personal guard was one of them.

lando had explained to her that oscar was the only person he trusted more than himself, so anytime she wasn't with lando, she would be with him. oscar's blank stare scared her a little, he seemed so disinterested in everything around him, he just nodded at her from his spot on the couch. she watched him when he entered the room and untucked his gun from the holster and set it on the table before sitting on the couch across from them. she thought he was handsome then, but then realized he might be worse than lando, and she would be stuck with him constantly. a week goes by with his constant presence, the only time he isn’t there is when she retreats to her bedroom at night.

she’s pleasantly surprised when she’s asked why she hasn’t gone anywhere by lando, and she’s like “well, you told me to stay.” and he cheekily tells her, “you’ve got a wedding to plan. go try on dresses. taste cake. you have oscar now he’ll follow you wherever you go, drive you anywhere too.” true to lando’s word, when she tells him she wants to go to the mall a few days later, oscar puts on his jacket and retrieves his keys from gis pockets, waving a hand at her to follow him. he only speaks to her to ask her where she wants to go. he never answers any of her questions or responds to her jokes or attempts at conversation.

he doesn’t let his guard down, but she can’t help but try and get him to crack a smile or even look a little annoyed when she’s dragging him store to store. she occasionally thinks about how she might be able to take him and slip away, at least knock him down and be able to run away fast enough, but then she remembers how easily her brother’s were taken and she doesn’t even try. she even tries dragging him into a lingerie boutique to get a reaction out of him, but she receives more blank stares. oscar one day teases her about being a shopping addict and she admits she just likes to be out of the house, she wants to say away from lando, but she sees the way they act with each other. they're comfortable with each other in a way that takes a trust she can’t fathom having with either man, so she can't badmouth her betrothed to him.

he starts taking her out after that. instead of going to the same stores, he takes her to a museum, an arcade, restaurants she's never been to. despite him being silent and watching her eat when they go out, she's happy that he's making the effort to get her out of the house after she says that's what she wants. she goes out with lando too, but he takes her to things he’s interested in. he takes her to the golf course shows off his pretty new fiancé and the shiny ring he gave to her on one of their dinner outings. he wasn’t romantic about it, but he was kind of nice. he told her he knew this wasn’t the life she intended to lead but he was going to do his best to make her happy. he gave her the ring as he promised to protect her. he didn’t mention anything of love.

she falls for oscar faster than she falls for lando, she makes up responses in her head based on what she knows about him from overheard conversations she’s heard between him and lando or other guards around. she wonder’s if he’s been banned from speaking to her because no one else has a problem, but oscar can’t say a word. she somehow falls for him without him ever speaking to her, and he falls for her because she somehow doesn’t seem to fear him like everyone else. she grabs his hand and pulls him around like he’s a child, tugging him out of one store and into another when she sees something through a window. if anyone else in the entire world ever did that to him, he would break every bone in their hand for grabbing him. in the beginning, he let it pass because it’s his job, or at least that’s what he told himself, but eventually he grew to love the way she’d get excited when she saw something and grab his hand to pull him with her to look at it. she knows he has to follow her, she doesn’t have to grab his hand and pull him. she chooses to.

he likes her way too much to give in to the temptation of fucking his friend and boss’s fiance/wife, they’re just sickeningly in love with each other as she falls for lando and she never gets over oscar but she finds a bit of peace with lando, and then she gets kidnapped and oscar’s not so hidden feelings are brought to the surface.

the kidnapping happens when oscar’s off duty. he has to sleep a few hours every night, after all. lando’s off doing something or another, he didn’t tell her before he left her with two body guards. she was fast asleep when someone infiltrated the villa and shot her two guards with silenced weapons and abducted her. oscar woke up to the sound of a scream and was racing down the hall to get into her room. the only evidence of any intruder in the house, despite it being only seconds since the scream woke him, were the two dead bodies blocking the door. he had to shove against the deadweight, thinking furniture was blockading the door until his bare feet hit the pool of blood and he nearly tripped over the two guards. the bed is centered in front of the door, so when he looks up, he sees the tousled sheets where she should be. he searches the entire floor top to bottom for intruders or her as he makes various calls to alert the security in the rest of the property to search for any intruders and reader, then calls lando as he dresses and retrieves his own weapons.

he knows there’s no way lando could have been home for this to have happened, and he’s always slept like the dead. he wonders how they knew to get her then, with him asleep and lando gone. if it was an inside job, or if it was whoever lando was meeting tonight, or maybe someone got lucky. lando questions everyone one by one, he planned on oscar being first, because while he thinks he can trust him, he sees the way they look at each other and he doesn’t know if this is some ruse for her to escape with her secret love, or if she’s truly been kidnapped. he knows he can trust him when he arrives to find oscar already questioning interrogating security and staff, while the already vetted ones search the grounds and review security footage. there’s already blood on the tile in the dining room, so he know oscar means business.

an hour after lando arrives, when he’s on the verge of shooting someone, anyone, he receives a text saying to check the master bathroom, in the third drawer on the right. they find a lock of her hair and a ransom note.

[waterfire1848]

AU where Hama tries a different strategy where instead of torturing the worst targets and wasting time she tries to go big for Azulon himself, but can't just run at him for obvious reasons so she tries infiltrating and posing as a concubine to get and ideally kill him when in a good position by trying to get him to trust her first to not make it obvious.

Hello, @deadlyangelofpurity !!!

Once Hama escapes from prison, she realizes that she has a power no one in the four nations knows exists and she's in the very nation that is continuing this war. What does she do? Sneaks into the Fire Lord's place to kill him of course. If she can kill him, she can end the war and go back home and, with bloodbending, it really shouldn't be that difficult. She makes her way to the palace, posing first as a peasant then guard then servant until she gets inside the palace. However, upon getting entry she quickly realizes that Azulon is both heavily guarded and is a master firebender, so just walking up to him and killing him isn't exactly an option. That's when she overhears some of the concubine's talking. (Concubine #1: I spent at least 5 hours with him. Concubine #2: No, you didn't. I was there yesterday. Concubine #1: Not all day. Concubine #2: You're an idiot. Concubine #1: An idiot who is going to keep her job and gets quality time with the Fire Lord.) That's when Hama gets an idea.

She takes one of the girl's clothing while she's in the shower, dresses herself and then gets in the same group as all the others. Being a concubine is very much a competitive thing because everyone is competing for Azulon's favor and those who aren't really liked by Azulon will end up out on the streets. So when Hama joins she's quickly viewed as competition by the other girls and mocked and ridiculed as the newcomer, especially for her lack of knowledge on Fire Nation customs. Hama bites her lip, willing herself not to also invent bloodbending during the day, and focuses on her mission. Although it is made far harder by the other women making life a living hell for her. (Hama may or may not waterbend at them a tad during lunch and dinner to ruin their makeup and outfits).

When she does meet Azulon, she knows that she can't outright kill him because everyone would instantly know it was her and she'd be killed. Plus someone else would just take Azulon's place and all her work would have been for nothing, so killing him on the first night is not an option. Rather, she keeps quiet and tries to learn as much about Azulon as she can so that she can eventually get on his good side and kill him with no one suspecting her. Bloodbending would allow her to get the job done quickly and effortlessly, but the problem is that the full moon isn't for another two weeks so she must wait. Hama hates her role but she bites her tongue and continues on, careful not to say anything that would either give her away as Water Tribe or that would give away her plan. In this time, Hama meets Azulon's young son: Iroh, who's about 11 at the time, and meets his infant son, Ozai. (Hama: He's adorable. Iroh: Dad says he's not that strong, but I think he's going to grow up to be a great Fire Prince! Hama: You do? Iroh: Mmhmm! You'll see! He'll grow up into one of the best Fire Prince's in the nation! Hama, leaning over the cradle: We shall see I suppose). Hama has no problem with Iroh or Ozai but if Iroh gets in her way then she can handle him and Ozai will grow up nicely in the South Pole. (She knows Kanna had been wanting a son before she left).

Quickly, the night of the full moon arrives and Hama is ready to exact her revenge. Like clockwork, she remains in Azulon's room, ready for him to arrive and to kill him. Only, he never arrives. Hama leaves him room to see what is going on and finds that he had a war meeting that kept him all night. Hama is beyond pissed not only that she lost her chance to kill Azulon but that she can't even try again for another month, meaning she's stuck here for another month. Still, there isn't much she can do so she decides to wait. In that time, she starts to get to know Azulon, Iroh and Ozai. She sees how much he pushes Iroh, despite his young age, and his dislike for Ozai, despite the infant desperately wanting any kind of parental love. (Hama: You should lighten up on Iroh and give Ozai some attention. Azulon: Since when are you their mother? Hama: I'm just saying that those boys are supposed to succeed you and become Firelord and crown prince one day- Azulon: Ozai will never be crown prince or Fire Lord. Hama: You never know. All I'm saying is that maybe it's smarter to create a family where people don't want to betray each other every day. Azulon: Hmmp. I'll think it over. Hama: That's all I ask.)

Over the next month, Hama and Azulon continue to talk and get together more and more to do things that aren’t related to being a concubine. They talk about plays, food, Iroh and Ozai, homes, etc. Despite their growing closer and closer, Hama is still dead set on killing Azulon. When the night of the full moon comes again, Hama is ready and she acts. Azulon isn’t ready to defend against a bloodbending attack but he’s also not completely weak either. Hama hasn’t had the years to master her skill so her hold isn’t as strong and Azulon is able to break free. They got back and forth for a while with Hama holding him and then Azulon breaking free and trying to attack but then being captured again. Eventually, Azulon grabs Hama’s throat and Hama gets an ice dagger to his throat. It’s a stand off between the two. (Azulon: You’re a waterbender. Hama: The last one from the South Pole. Azulon: I should have guessed only Water Tribesmen have eyes that blue. Hama: And I should have killed you before. Azulon: And you didn’t. Hama: And now you can’t kill me without dying yourself. And do you really think Iroh is ready to lead the nation or do you think people will be more likely to take advantage of the new Fire Lord not even being 14 yet? Personally, I think it’s the latter. Azulon: What do you want?) With her plan failed, Hama demands to be allowed to leave and not be followed. Azulon allows this. Hama flees into the countryside and watches from a distance as Azulon’s reign continues, but she continues to use her bloodbending against the people of the Fire Nation just not the Royal Family. At least, not yet.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta'em - new names, familiar faces

Masterlist - part three

Summary: Kayla is held captive by her long-lost, recently-found brother and his people. She feels like a prisoner on the outside, looking in as he introduces her to his family

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 5k+

Taglist: @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

Outnumbered by Na'vi men and women, Makayla wisely chose not to fight her own capture. With pleading eyes, Jake had begged her to just let the natives tie her hands and pull her into the forest by a rope, leading her away from Hell's Gate and weaponless. Jake sticks to the front of the group after instructing their hoard of banshees to fly away, while Kayla was being led around from the back. She barely spoke a word after initially hugging her brother out of relief and surprise, and instead chose to carefully observe her captives and kept her face neutral. Her biggest observation was about a certain Na'vi woman who walked closely to Jake compared to all the other warriors, the same woman who would occasionally look back to check on their avatar captive. Kayla wasn't blind but chose to keep the observation to herself for the time being. 

They walked forever until Jake instructs the war party to rest for a bit now that they were safely distanced from the former military base. Kayla is pushed to the floor and forced to sit, her hands still tied in front of her. Jake and the mysterious Na'vi woman move to sit in front of her in their own little tight circle while the other people around them either rested or scouted ahead. This is where Jake told his sister everything, from the moment he left Earth to recent events following the arrival of the Sky People. He left out Neytiri and their children for the time being, hoping that Kayla would simply believe he did everything he could out of love for everyone and everything on Pandora, internally aware of how stupid she would make him look if she knew he had done it all for his love of one individual.

At first, Makayla appeared cautious and doubtful, some small part of her still making her suspicious as to whether or not the Na'vi in front of her was really her brother, in an avatar body that didn't bore any of his old tattoos. She wished she could spit and curse at him, demanding that he tell her the truth instead of this stupid, made-up fairytale. However, some of his tales back up what she had been told of the Na'vi people, the same people who fought and drove the RDA back from their homeworld and forced them to return to Earth. Jake relayed parts of those events that were recorded in RDA data files that Kayla couldn't afford to ignore. She was forced to believe him, especially in her predicament.

When Jake finished his story with a question of his own, wondering how she got here, Makayla's words felt heavy on her tongue as she answered, "Seven years ago, I was given this job opportunity to come to Pandora. General Ardmore said that in exchange for helping her establish evidence that human civilians could live in and out of the avatar link safely, she would help me find your remains and have them sent back to Earth," she caught the slight wideness of his yellow eyes before elaborating, "I was told you were killed in action so I wanted to find your body and send it home to be buried beside Tommy."

"Why does Ardmore want civilians to have avatars?"

"Earth is dying, Jake," as predicted, the Sully brother didn't look all too surprised and Kayla continued, "There's not much left of it, at least that's what it was like before I left, hence why I didn't need a whole lot of convincing to leave. The RDA is not mining for resources or anything like the last time they were here. No, they're now colonizing. Building roads and dams and skyscrapers. Ardmore's objective is to make Pandora our new home."

Neytiri hissed quietly from the back of her throat, "This was our home first."

Kayla's ears flattened for a moment, eyes carefully inspecting Neytiri's every movement before Jake purposely drove her attention away, "So they want you to... what? Be their guinea pig?"

"Essentially," she shrugged, "My job is to test the boundaries and see how far I could go in this body while mine still lies in a lab back in Bridgehead. They want to know how long I could stay in the link without breaking it. If the tests are successful, then they can get the green light to make more avatars, and this time for the civilians once they all move here."

"Tell me about General Ardmore."

"Logical. Analytical. Devoid of any kind of human emotion," Kayla let out an amused scoff, "I wouldn't be surprised if we woke up tomorrow to learn that she's actually a synthetic android. They chose her to run this task force because they knew she would never suddenly feel pity or empathy for any native life here on Pandora. She'll get the job done without even breaking a sweat or a tear. Nothing is personal to her. That makes her dangerous."

Jake slowly nods, adjusting his crouching stance before leveling Kayla with an interrogating look, "You sound like you know her pretty well."

She glared back in defiance, "She recruited me herself. She said I was exactly what she was looking for in a soldier. Now looking back, she probably recruited me to draw you out."

His ears visibly lowered in shame, along with his eyes when he realized he couldn't stand to look at his sister anymore, voice quiet as he spoke, "I'm sorry."

"Uh-huh," cold, unconvinced, and honestly uninterested, she moved onto an interrogation of her own, eyes flicking over to the Na'vi woman crouching beside him, "Who's she?"

Jake raises his arm and gently touches his mate's, "This is Neytiri. My wife. Neytiri, this is Makayla, my sister."

Neytiri, stern and neutral, dutifully nods to the avatar woman, "Hello, Makayla te Suli."

"Did you say your wife?" Makayla's mask slips as genuine shock graces her face, her traitorous tail wagging in curiosity behind her as she closely inspects Neytiri with her eyes. Regaining her composure, Kayla tries dropping her voice into a proper accent while nodding to her sister-in-law, "Kaltxì."

Both Neytiri and Jake curiously watch Kayla and she quickly backtracks and curls further in on herself, prepared to defend her pride, "Did I say it right?"

Jake smiles a little, "It's a little rusty, but we understood. How do you know Na'vi?"

"I was only in cryosleep for three years instead of the full trip here. I wanted to research as much as I could, but reading the words... it's harder to grasp the pronunciation compared to actually hearing it. I don't know most of the language, just the basic phrases."

"Did you... did you by any chance read Dr. Grace Augustine's book?"

She frowned, thrown off by this sudden small talk, "I did."

"Grace has a daughter who we adopted. Her name is Kiri. If you still have your copy--"

"Kiri?" Some angry emotion resembling betrayal flares in Kayla's gut as her tail suddenly goes still in alertness, "You have a daughter?"

Jake realized his mistake a moment too late, quickly looking away again, "We have two daughters. And two sons."

"Jesus Christ," Kayla rocks back on her heels for a moment, the resentment taking over for a brief moment as she raised her voice, "Anything else you'd like to dump on me?"

~~~~~~~~~

Instead of telling her, Jake just showed her. Ordering his war party to move out, they call and summon their ikran and Kayla is forced onto the back of one. This was the only time she tried resisting, and the Na'vi warrior in charge of her gnashed their teeth at her restraint before manhandling her onto the back of the mighty creature. Still tied up and unable to flee, Kayla became as stiff as a board as they flew up into the sky, joining the rest of the group. Jake flashed a sympathetic smile from his mount before flying further ahead to lead the party home.

What felt like forever to Makayla was only a couple of hours of flying through the clouds until a large shadow formed ahead of them. Squinting her eyes, Kayla tries to make out what the shadow was until it grew closer and her stomach dropped. It looked like a mountain, but she couldn't spot any means as to why it was floating instead of rooted in the ground far below. As they pass the large rock facing, they fly past another, then another, and then another, until the sky finally cleared of clouds and Kayla's breath was completely taken away.

Hundreds of large rock facings, scattered around the skies, floating around and hovering high over her head. Large vines protruding from the rocks act as anchors and bridges between mountains, passing through small waterfalls and all sorts of life that were thriving on the surface of each rock face. Life forms and vegetation sprouted from each mountain, and hundreds of ecosystems much similar to the ones on the ground, all of which acted as their own individual continents on their own respective mountains. Kayla couldn't bring herself to look away, craning her neck up to watch the mountains as the banshees peacefully fly through them without much effort. She even took a moment of awe to lean forward and feel the mist of a nearby waterfall as they flew by.

The winds change and the ikran shift their wings ever so slightly, gliding sharply among the sky's current and forcing Kayla to hang on for dear life. They float higher than before and Kayla realizes that among the mountains were vast cave systems, all connected and large enough to carry cargo ships. The banshees slap their wings to slow their descent, landing at the mouths of the caves. Makayla is dragged off and her bonds are cut away. Rubbing her aching wrists, she looks around, cautious when she noticed more Na'vi than ever before, glaring as they walk past her to greet the returning war party. Various shapes and sizes of tents and huts line up around the cave walls, an entire clan of Na'vi shuffling past one another, breathing together as they went about their day.

Kayla nearly jumps out of her new blue skin when a hand claps down on her shoulder. Spinning her head around and pulling away, she doesn't even relax when she realized the hand belonged to Jake as he finally caught up with her. He draws his hand away when she flinched and proceeded to nod to the entire campground, "Welcome to High Camp. I'll introduce you to the Omatikaya."

A gathering of Na'vi begins to swarm around the returning troupe, especially around Makayla. Even though she had more layers on, she felt the most vulnerable, even compared to an infant she caught sight of, snuggled in a tight frontal wrap at its mother's breast. How a baby felt more secure in that than Kayla in her red-brown crop top and cargo shorts could easily stem from how the Na'vi people glared at her but fond over the child. Their looks of scrutiny alone made Kayla feel as though she was the child.

"Mama! Daddy!"

Kayla's head spun in the direction of a child calling out to her parents, spotting a young Na'vi girl, easily the same height as her hip, come running toward the war party. Her heartbeat nearly stops, however, when that child jumps into the arms of her parents, who are none other than Jake and Neytiri, and they happily embrace her.

"Tuk." Neytiri hummed with relief, closing her eyes in contentment as she held her daughter's head to her body.

Jake placed a gentle hand on the top of the little girl's head of short, braided hair while kissing the side of her temple, "Did ya give your brother a hard time?"

"Nope! We made a necklace for Grandmother today."

"Really? You'll have to show me later." He smiles warmly at Tuk, keeping her close to him and Neytiri even when her mother set her down. Jake looks through the crowd, eyes dancing around in search of someone before calling out in his marine voice, "Alright, Sullys! Fall in!"

Makayla watched as three other Na'vi children emerge from the crowd, though they stood at the height Kayla imagined Na'vi teenagers would be, significantly taller than Tuk but still shorter than their parents. One of the teenagers, the only other girl, lifts her arms and Tuk wordlessly clings to her side. The teenage girl also bore short hair, but it was unbraided and wilder than her sister's. There was a significant change in appearance between the two girls. One of them, Tuk, had the identifiable features of the Na'vi. Big eyes, no eyebrows, and only four digits on each hand. The older one, who Kayla assumed must be Kiri, bore smaller eyes, eyebrow hair, and five digits on each hand. Kiri and Tuk watch Makayla curiously, tilting their heads and even smiling sweetly at her.

The boys, however, are a different story. One was taller and clearly older, with the typical Na'vi features. The other was shorter and bore the features inherited by his father, fingers and all, much like Kiri. Kayla had clocked the younger boy right away. He had been the closest to resembling Jake's avatar form... but there was something about the way he held himself that gave Kayla a sense of déjà vu. Maybe it was the furrow of his eyebrows or the small frown on his lips, but a small part of Kayla recognized the human side of Jake in the boy. Neither he nor his older brother stared at her with kind eyes, like their sisters. They stared at her with caution and perhaps only a dash of awe.

Jake doesn't appear bothered by it as he places his hand back on Kayla's shoulder, nearly making her flinch again, "This is my sister, Makayla. Kayla, this is my oldest son, Neteyam. Our oldest daughter, Kiri. Our youngest son, Lo'ak. And this ball of fire is Tuktirey."

Tuk squealed with laughter when her father crouched down and scooped her up in the air. He placed the young child on his hip while turning to Kayla, smiling between his sister and his daughter while speaking gently to Tuk, "I want you to treat her like family, okay? Because that's what she is. Family."

All four Sully children relax at their father's words, though Neteyam is the last to do so since he had waited for his mother's nod of approval before also softening his gaze at Makayla. But Kayla was not as easy to buy into this new arrangement, finding herself taking a step back as her chest squeezed painfully. Her eyes dart to all the faces around her, not just her newly acquired nieces and nephews. This was all too much, too overwhelming. This had been too much information being dumped on her lap all in one day. It felt like some sort of fever dream that she was desperate to wake from.

Jake observed the way his sister began to close up on herself, eyes darting in several directions as if looking for an exit route. He hands Tuk over to Neytiri and slowly approached Kayla, "Why don't we bring you somewhere that's more familiar, yeah?"

His hand grips the back of her neck, squeezing once and Kayla gets the message. She doesn't have a choice even though Jake isn't ordering her. She moves forward with Jake right behind her, using the hand on her neck to guide her through the crowd of Na'vi, who part like the Red Sea for her and her brother. She keeps her eyes forward, timid, her jaw tight and her teeth grinding together uncomfortably, but Kayla refuses to show any physical signs of discomfort apart from gripping her hands tightly in front of her. Jake guides her away from the crowd and his family, all the while dread takes its place in Kayla's strong bones. Despite having a newfound family, they were all strangers to her, and she could feel those strangers' eyes all searing into the back of her skull as she walked away.

After a bit of walking through the camp and seeing the strange sights of Omatikaya life, Kayla discovers something familiar that Jake no doubt wanted her to see. Humans. Humans, avatars, exo-packs, and the topping on the cake was the inflatable but clearly man-made biolab trailer sitting at the edge of the Omatikaya's various campsites throughout the linked cave system. Standing outside, hands on his hips, was a human man waiting for the Sully siblings. He stood tall for a human, but clearly couldn't hold a candle to a fully grown Na'vi. Beaming behind his breathing mask, he waved them over.

Jake let go of his sister and stepped around Kayla, holding out an arm in the man's direction, "Kayla, this is Dr. Norm Spellman. Norm, this is my sister, Makayla."

Kayla didn't hesitate to shake the human's hand when he offered it up to her, already calming down at the familiar hand gesture of human customs. Norm smiled up at her, "Pleasure to meet you. Do you prefer Makayla or Kayla?"

"Kayla, if you don't mind."

"You got it. It's nice to finally meet you. I, uh... I knew your other brother. Tommy. We went through avatar training together."

Her eyes briefly widen before shrinking back to normal size. Well, at least normal for an avatar, "Oh."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about his passing."

"Thanks."

Norm nods to Jake before standing off to the side, gesturing for Kayla to follow him, "Let me show you around and introduce you to the others."

Kayla firmly nods, only briefly glancing back at Jake before leaving him behind, dutifully following Norm. He first brings her to a large, Na'vi-made tent that loomed off to the side of the inflatable trailer. Kayla later learns that the tent is called a marui as Norm points it out to her,

"So this is the Longhouse. This is where the avatars are stored and monitored when not in use. That's where you'll be sleeping."

Kayla nods, "Where do you keep the link gurneys?"

"Right this way," He walks toward the trailer, taking the steps up to the front door before turning to her, nearly standing at her height now with the help of the steps, "It'll be a tight squeeze for you in this form so take your time."

Norm turns back around and opens the door, closing it behind him to quickly take off his mask in the depressurized room before opening the opposite door into the lab, closing the door behind him, and waiting for Makayla. He was right after all. It was definitely a tight fit for her in a grown Na'vi woman's body. Kayla was crouching the whole way through the depressurized room, having difficulty closing the door behind her before entering the lab. Norm had waited patiently for her, smiling in sympathy when watching the way her entire body was hunched over in order to fit. He holds out his arm to her, and it's only then did she notice a separate rebreather in his hand, "Here's your breathing mask."

She mutters a brief 'thanks' while fitting the mask around her mouth, breathing in suitable oxygen meant for the native lifeforms on Pandora before Norm turns around to lead her further into the building, "Welcome to our biolab. Link Bay is over there and over here are our amino tanks."

They make their way over to the link gurneys where another man was stationed at. He was shorter than Norm in build and height, wearing a lab coat and glasses. Looking up, the man smiled and walked forward, "I'm going to take a guess and say that you must be Makayla Sully. Nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Max Patel."

"Pleasure," Kayla repeated automatically, shaking his hand in her overly large one before the three of them continued the tour through the lab together. Kayla had to be careful with her tail and long limbs when shuffling past desks and botanical gardens in small glass test tubes. Long rows of tables held various different stages of research, from files of paper all the way up to large samples taking up the whole end with large leaves and UV light lamps hanging over it.

She got to see the link gurneys and other useful tools she'll likely need as her avatar progresses out here without her human form present, but Kayla was barely paying attention to the tour. Instead, her eyes occasionally wandered to an amino tank in the corner of the lab, out of the way of the scientists' workstations, but it was a tank being closely monitored by various machines. Inside the tank, to her slight terror and curiosity, Kayla realized was another avatar woman, nude and floating soundlessly in the fluids of the imitating womb.

Norm caught her curious gaze wandering over to the side and he wordlessly walks over to the tank, turning back to Kayla while placing a gentle hand against the glass, "And this is Dr. Grace Augustine."

"Her avatar?"

He nods, sober and slightly grim as a shadow passes through his eyes, "It's all that's left of her, apart from her video logs. She died a long time ago in her human body. We're closely monitoring this body to try and get a better understanding of our avatars to see how we work and what limits we can stretch out, such as being able to stay linked to our avatars for days at a time."

"That's what the RDA is trying to test out with me." Both scientists simultaneously turn their heads to her, eyes wide. So Kayla explains to them what she had already told Jake, her mission, and her purpose. The three of them spent a while talking back and forth, asking questions and answering whatever they could. Kayla wasn't a scientist herself, but she tried her best to answer questions about how the RDA intends on testing her avatar and her neural link to its limits. From the look in their eyes, she could tell that Max and Norm were starting to form ideas of their own on how they intended to do the same for their own avatars and riders. 

In between their discussion, the two men and woman missed the door outside opening and closing with a soft hiss. Patterns of feet against cold metal floors paddle over to them and Kayla finally catches the sound with a small twitch of her ears.

"What's going on, guys? Who's the newbie?"

Kayla's head turns, looking around before looking down to find a teenage human boy. But for a moment, Kayla couldn't process this because, out of all of the other humans she had seen today, this boy had every aspect of a Na'vi other than the fact he wasn't tall or blue. He was the only human Kayla has seen not wearing normal clothes and was instead sporting leather armbands, beads in his long, blonde dreads, a knife at his hip, and a loincloth similar to Omatikayan fashion. Despite not being Na'vi, he had painted blue stripes all along his body and face, but his eyes were clearly human as he peered up at Kayla with wide, curious brown eyes.

Norm places a hand on the boy before staring up at Kayla, "This is Spider."

The boy, Spider, tilts his chin up as a small greeting, "Hey."

"Hey. Is this your son?" Kayla politely asked Norm. She wouldn't be surprised. Both the scientist and the teenager were roughly the same height.

"Nah," Norm fondly scoffed, lifting the hand on Spider's shoulder to ruffle the teen's dreads, "But we all look after the rugrat."

"Hey, cut it out!" Spider swats at Norm before pulling away to get some distance, fixing his hair in the process. Kayla let out a small snort through her nose, amused at the display.

Norm grins in response to the woman slowly warming up to their new faces, "You'll be seeing plenty of him since he tends to be your nieces' and nephews' shadow."

Spider missed the way Kayla's small smirk fell as he had to replay Norm's words in his head. Glancing between Kayla and Norm, Spider's dreads danced over his shoulders before finally staring up at the female avatar, "Wait, you're Kiri and Lo'ak's aunt?"

This time, Kayla's smile was thin and not as enthusiastic as she does a half wave, "Hi, I'm Kayla. Jake's sister."

"Holy shit," the statement is cut off by Max elbowing Spider's side, then the teen backtracks a little, "Uh, I mean, nice to meet you."

~~~~~~~~~

The communal dinner took place as the sky darkened and the fires ignited. Jake opted out of joining the large crowds of his people in exchange for bringing an extra leaf plate of food over to Kayla. Norm told him where to find her and sure enough, there she was, kicking back in a hammock within the Avatar Longhouse, alone, staring off into space while swinging her leg out to gently rock herself. Her ears perk up at the sound of Jake approaching her without her eyes ever looking away from where she had begun to disassociate. She snaps out of her imagination when the leaf plate is placed in her hands, and she stubbornly chooses to stare down at her food instead of looking at Jake, who situated himself to sit in the hammock beside her.

"What is this?" She asked while poking her food quizzically. 

"Teylu. It's protein. And that?" He leans over to point at another part of her plate, "That's Spartan fruit. Try the teylu first. I promise you'll love it. Remember that time we had shrimp as kids?"

"Barely," she muttered, trying to recollect as she picked up the grub with her fingers, "Dad called it 'gold nuggets' or something like that since shrimp was hard to come by. I think that was also the last time we had it."

"This is better. Trust me."

His grin only widens as she took a tiny bite, pauses, then goes back for seconds. He didn't miss the way her eyes widen and her ears perk up before eating the entire grub and then grabbing another from her plate. Jake breathes out a small laugh, "See?"

"It's... sweet."

"And savory. It's one of my favorites. Try the fruit next. It's refreshing," he barely ate any dinner himself, too amused when watching his sister try out the new flavors. He mostly sat in silence as she ate, and waited to talk only after she was close to finishing, "Hungry?"

"I've been eating rations while I'm out here, and they don't exactly have five-star restaurants on the building to-do list back at Bridgehead."

He hisses through his teeth in sympathy, remembering those days with a pained expression, "Yeah... I don't care what they advertise. Those protein bars were shit. So did you enjoy the tour?"

Kayla takes a moment to look around, remembering where she was before stating, "It's a refugee camp." 

It wasn't an insult or a compliment. It was a blunt observation. Jake nods solemnly, "I know. For now, this is all we can do."

She shrugged, "Overall, it's a good strategic point, I'll give you that. These mountains fuck around RDA's instruments."

"Yeah, that's the point. And it helps that the rogue ikran do most of the work for us if the Sky People try to come here."

"Ikran?"

His lips split into a smile again, "You'll be properly introduced to those tomorrow."

She finally looks directly at his face, frowning in confusion as she reiterates what he said out loud, "Tomorrow." 

She repeats the word on her tongue, eyeing her brother carefully. Jake only nods back, not daring to look away, "Yeah."

"I have to go back, Jake."

"I know."

Taken back by his confidence, she scowled in disbelief, "Aren't you worried I'm gonna tell Ardmore where you are?"

He tilts his head, "Should I be?"

She wasn't sure if a simple 'yes' or 'no' would suffice. It was such a loaded question, given the circumstances. Instead, she pulls her rogue leg into the hammock and balances her empty leaf plate on her knees, taking the time to stare at that instead of Jake, "Twenty years is a long time. Long enough for someone to change."

A gust of air escapes his lungs, slightly taken aback, "Jesus-- has it really been that long?"

She snaps her eyes to him, narrowing her yellow irises into a fierce glare, "I was just rounding up. It's been longer than that. Nice of you to notice."

Jake visibly winced, looking away when he couldn't bear to face the heat of Kayla's glare. He knew he deserved that, but it still stung. The tent is met with silence, apart from the songs of insects and the singing and chatter going on at the communal meal echoing in the distance. Sighing mostly to himself, Jake reveals something he had been holding in his hand underneath his own leaf plate, leaning back over to place the item in her hands, "... Here." 

Kayla feels the cool, familiar feeling of dog tags being placed in the palm of her hand. Without asking, she knew what they were and who they belonged to, but she shifted her eyes to stare down at the identification letters and numbers anyway.  

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from Jake's shoulders as he let go of his dog tags, carefully watching the way Kayla held the chain in her hand, "In case you would rather go home and just bury that beside Tommy. Otherwise, come back tomorrow. I promise I'll make it up to you."

And with that, he stands up, takes the two leaf plates, and exits the marui, leaving Kayla alone to her thoughts. She juggles the dog tags for a bit, pondering as the night grows later and her eyelids begin to droop. Looking around the empty tent again, she takes her time to stare at each of the empty hammocks meant for the avatars. For the moment, she's alone, just as she has always been whether at Bridgehead or exploring the world of Pandora. If she stays up any longer, she'll be greeted by the other avatars, returning for dinner and getting ready for bed. A part of her wondered if reporting this to Ardmore would even be worth it, knowing that all this would go away with one swift attack and Kayla would be left alone again. All those people her brother introduced to her today would be gone, and part of Kayla's conscience knows that the guilt would just eat her up from the inside out, despite not caring too much for these new faces. With that in mind, Kayla pocketed the dog tags and leaned back in her hammock, trying to relax her mind. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and drifts off. 

What felt like mere moments was actually a half-hour later, Kayla's eyes opened and the first thing she sees is the inside roof of her link bay instead of the ceiling of the avatar tent. It was dark aside from the soft glow of the memory gel softly hugging her significantly smaller body or the blinking lights of the neural induction probes acting as stars above her. Kayla wiggled around uncomfortably, noting that she no longer had a tail and her attire was more appropriate for an officer than an avatar. Finally, the lid of her link bay lifts, and Kayla sighs in relief, pushing away the censor cage from her torso and lifting herself up into a sitting position with a soft groan. Bringing her hands up, she rubs her face in exhaustion, trying to shake away the sleep as the scan head ring powers down, cutting off the link while a scientist comes around to check on her vitals. Blinking and looking down, Kayla feels a small wave of relief when her five fingers come back looking the appropriate color, pale and speckled with the occasional mole. She's not surprised that Ardmore is also there when she looked up, but Kayla still feels dread at the sight of her, regardless. The general is standing in attendance at the end of Kayla's link bay, as still as a statue, with her hands behind her back. 

Like her eyes, her words are cold, "Anything to report?"

"No, ma'am. Nothing." Kayla shakes her head, using her hair as an excuse to look away while running her fingers through her locks to tame it. She didn't know why the lie fell so easily from her lips, but when she finally looked up to stare back at Ardmore, she doesn't feel an ounce of regret and kept her facial expressions close to empty.

Ardmore only nods, once, "Is the avatar safe?"

"Yes, ma'am. Hiding in a tree."

"Those savages are known to climb like monkeys in those trees. You better hope your avatar is still there when you get back."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll relocate for the next log-off."

A/N: Who's ready to get a montage of Kayla learning the proper lifestyle of the Omatikaya next chapter so we can get to the main plot of the story quicker? I know I am.

Lemme know if you have a request or if you wish to be added to the taglist!

[littlenightmares2]

the maw does not begin as an outright prison, at least not for the vast majority of children stashed within it's depths.

the enormous amount of meat needed to satiate the unending hunger of the guests takes a year to gather... hence the annual nature of the feasting that takes place onboard. over the course of each year, children are shepherded to the ship that would one day become their tomb and kept as unwilling guests.

the meat tastes it's best when the little brats are freshly killed. crude though the chefs are, indifferent as the lady is to the fate of her visitors, the children are kept alive as long as possible in order to preserve the best taste. this is an experience that is advertised to lure in the hungry from all over the nowhere. it must live up to the fantastical tales of endless gluttony to some degree.

the prison exists as a temporary home.

roger is put to work on another matter alongside his usual duties- tending to the children. he deals in general upkeep and repairs around the ship, of course, but his priority is to be the containment and appeasement of their living food reserves.

escape is unforgivable. roger is patient, but there is a decisive limit to how many runaways he'll haul back to the beds before punishing the wrongdoing.

causing unrest among their peers or discussing any desire for freedom is sure to cause a watchful eye to be cast the offending child's way. if the behaviour continues , they are taken away. the others do not know where, but nobody ever returns.

the more unruly children can be outright killed to make an example of them as a last resort- though this tends to only happen once there is already unrest within the dormitories. once a point of no return has already been reached, once the maw's true purpose has somehow gotten out. some children are swept away and cast into cages.

on a very rare occasion, the lady might ask for a particular troublemaker to be brought before herself. roger obliges without question, of course. there is always a need for more nomes to cast into the depths of the maw to keep the engine humming... always amusement to be sourced in keeping a little lost thing in a gilded cage within her residence while she muses over what is to become of it, watching it tremble in due deference.

roger does find enjoyment in the work. his actions could almost be construed as genuine care. the children are tucked into bed, where they remain until morning . they are counted with regularity, though it becomes harder and harder to keep up with escapees and ensure numbers are correct the more children are being held in the prison. the number steadily mounts as the year goes on. he becomes sloppy, careless- leaves the door cracked when scrambling in pursuit of one child...

only for another runaway to take advantage of his mistake and slip out, too, a shackle still clamped around his little ankle.

the chefs prepare slop for the children and they are ushered into the cafeteria to eat whatever is put before them, drink a cup of water. in earlier days, they chatter among one another. as the feast draws closer, as more of them have come to understand the true nature of this terrible place, there will be a resounding silence and a few notably empty seats from some of their more outspoken peers being taken away in the night without explanation.

the playroom is bursting with toys of roger's own making. swings, model train sets, a roundabout... carefully carved dolls and blocks. the children are to spend their days playing together within, under his watchful eye. he used to unsettle them. many of them even hated him, in the beginning. but they come around... or at least learn to ignore him as best as they can. he'll bring things on request sometimes. a silver music box, a whittled nome toy. he has yet to oblige the request for a television set many children have posed.

none of the children are happy to be there. all seek escape initially. they don't understand why they're here or why they can't leave, and roger certainly doesn't provide much in the way of answers. he doesn't like questions at all, actually. but they're treated well enough that most concede to remaining within the prison for a large chunk of their stay... before the day of the feast draws close and they're all bundled up and sent off to the kitchen.

[beesbeesdragons]

I-

oh. theres a certain pain in the idea of, like. amestris, if it got into a bad enough war, would definitely introduce conscription. so like. au where the Ishvalan civil war escalates into what is essentially a world war. Amestris is totally cut off from supplies and trade. its a war fought on all sides except the east. and they're running out of troops.

Consider an amestris that sticks to it's principles of being very traditional, where women are barred from joining the military. It is here that we are introduced to our two protagonists. one Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang.

It is 1902. one year ago, the death of an Ishvalan child trigger riots that evolved into what was first a civil war, but quickly turned into a world war; the non-aggression pact with drachma was broken when an amestrian soldier was found with a bullet in his head, right outside the Briggs fortress. Aerugo was found out to be sending supplies to Ishval. Creta bombed a small village in the west, killing nearly a hundred civilians.

they're running out of soldiers. Conscription is introduced. All physically abled men aged 16-45 are eligible. Roy, as a 17 year old, is eligible. So he's drafted. and Berthold Hawkeye, who hates the military, finds the conscription notice in the mail. In a fury, he banishes Roy from his house, ending his apprenticeship early, and stealing away Riza's only friend. Roy, who hadn't even known; the letter had been in a bundle from the post office, set on the kitchen counter for Riza to look through after lunch.

And so Roy returns to his home, with Chris and the girls. but he sends letters to Riza. and when he begins training? he keeps up the correspondonce.

It is in 1905 when he has enough leave time to visit, and it is shortly after that Berthold Hawkeye passes, from a sickness that had passed through the area.

Riza Hawkeye, newly orphaned and with no one, finds herself having a tumultuous affair with her father's former apprentice, and the two wed before Roy's leave is over.

Once Roy is called back to fight, Riza flees that tiny town, heading to Central to have the smallest modicum of support from Chris. and she gets it. she starts working at a small shop near to the apartment that Chris had helped her buy, and she's happy.

Until it arrives.

a fairly innocuous telegram. standard, by all accounts. but she's a soldier's wife. she's a working woman. and her husband...he's MIA, presumably a prisoner of war. And Riza knows, she knows how prisoners of war are treated. So she makes a decision.

she returns to the town she vowed to never return to, returns to that god forsaken house. and she digs. she digs, and she finds it. a letter, unsent by her mother, addressed to her estranged grandfather, whom riza had never met, let alone sent a letter to. but she does.

Dear General Grumman, she writes.

My name is Riza Hawkeye, and you are my grandfather. Two weeks ago, I received word that my husband, one Major Roy Mustang, State Alchemist, has gone missing. It is my understanding that he is under your command.

I know this is an unconventional way of doing so, but I beg of you. Please, find my husband. Please, return him to me. Do so and I will owe you my life, for that is what he means to me.

Sincerely, Riza Hawkeye-Mustang

All she can do after it is written is wait.

and wait she does. she waits for two years, until she receives a telegram from her grandfather.

We found him. He's coming home.

Riza and Roy reunite in a busy train station, seeing each other for the first time in three years. Roy, who had suffered as a prisoner of war, has had an honourable discharge after losing sight in one of his eyes. Riza, who had been mourning her husband for the past two years, had kept her job, had built herself a life. and they both get to live it now.

[bravest]

the maw does not begin as an outright prison , at least not for the vast majority of children stashed within it's depths .

the enormous amount of meat needed to satiate the unending hunger of the guests takes a year to gather ... hence the annual nature of the feasting that takes place onboard . over the course of each year , children are shepherded to the ship that would one day become their tomb and kept as unwilling guests .

the meat tastes it's best when the little brats are freshly killed . crude though the chefs are , indifferent as the lady is to the fate of her visitors , the children are kept alive as long as possible in order to preserve the best taste . this is an experience that is advertised to lure in the hungry from all over the nowhere . it must live up to the fantastical tales of endless gluttony to some degree .

the prison exists as a temporary home .

roger is put to work on another matter alongside his usual duties - tending to the children . he deals in general upkeep and repairs around the ship , of course , but his priority is to be the containment and appeasement of their living food reserves .

escape is unforgivable . roger is patient , but there is a decisive limit to how many runaways he'll haul back to the beds before punishing the wrongdoing .

causing unrest among their peers or discussing any desire for freedom is sure to cause a watchful eye to be cast the offending child's way . if the behaviour continues , they are taken away . the others do not know where , but nobody ever returns .

the more unruly children can be outright killed to make an example of them as a last resort - though this tends to only happen once there is already unrest within the dormitories . once a point of no return has already been reached , once the maw's true purpose has somehow gotten out . some children are swept away and cast into cages .

on a very rare occasion , the lady might ask for a particular troublemaker to be brought before herself . roger obliges without question , of course . there is always a need for more nomes to cast into the depths of the maw to keep the engine humming ... always amusement to be sourced in keeping a little lost thing in a gilded cage within her residence while she muses over what is to become of it , watching it tremble in due deference .

roger does find enjoyment in the work . his actions could almost be construed as genuine care . the children are tucked into bed , where they remain until morning . they are counted with regularity , though it becomes harder and harder to keep up with escapees and ensure numbers are correct the more children are being held in the prison . the number steadily mounts as the year goes on . he becomes sloppy , careless - leaves the door cracked when scrambling in pursuit of one child ...

only for another runaway to take advantage of his mistake and slip out , too , a shackle still clamped around his little ankle .

the chefs prepare slop for the children and they are ushered into the cafeteria to eat whatever is put before them , drink a cup of water . in earlier days , they chatter among one another . as the feast draws closer , as more of them have come to understand the true nature of this terrible place , there will be a resounding silence and a few notably empty seats from some of their more outspoken peers being taken away in the night without explanation .

the playroom is bursting with toys of roger's own making . swings , model train sets , a little roundabout ... carefully carved dolls and blocks . the children are to spend their days playing together within , under his watchful eye . he used to unsettle them . many of them even hated him , in the beginning . but they come around ... or at least learn to ignore him as best as they can . he'll bring things on request sometimes . a silver music box , a whittled nome toy . he has yet to oblige the request for a television set many children have posed .

none of the children are happy to be there . all seek escape initially . they don't understand why they're here or why they can't leave , and roger certainly doesn't provide much in the way of answers . he doesn't like questions at all , actually . but they're treated well enough that most concede to remaining within the prison for a large chunk of their stay ... before the day of the feast draws close and they're all bundled up and sent off to the kitchen .

[ashtet]

Why are there no Stephanie Brown centric dpxdc fics?

Like, she did die for real at first in the comics- her death being faked was a retcon later on. She was 'dead' for infinite crisis and the following year (in universe), only coming back after the one year later arc, shortly before the Batman R.I.P plotline, which was shortly followed by Final Crisis and Bruce being lost in the timestream.

It would so easy to have Steph be a full ghost, or a halfa from Black Mask (who 'killed' her in War Games) experimenting on her with ectoplasm/her having been exposed to ectoplasm before that death.

There are so many ways she could have been introduced to ectoplasm, especially since Cluemaster has pellets with smoke/gasses/explosives in that he used as weapons, which he created himself with varying chemicals -which you could have ectoplasm be a part of.

Especially since Steph was a vigilante for a while before the bats even knew about her, operated mainly in the suburbs (where she lives, in Manchester) after Cluemaster was arrested, and only really teamed up with Tim until after no man's land (which was when Cass joined the bats, Steph first hears about Oracle, and Bruce actually begins to train and support Spoiler) - during no man's land she was still in the suburbs the whole time and she gave birth at the halfway mark or just before the half way mark of the No Mand Land year.

Gotham also canonically has a lazarus pit (which a lot of dpxdc has be connected to ectoplasm), said to be on the outskirts of the city - close to the mainland suburbs maybe?

There are also so many parallels between Steph and Danny that never get explored:

• Steph is suburbs based hero, who lives in the suburb she protects

[Danny is also a suburban, small time hero like Steph (who isn't a part of any young hero groups, or a member of the justice league, etc. She's only in Gotham (pre-death)]

• Steph's family is middle class, but has money issues due to her father's crime and mother's drug addiction

[I'm not sure if the Fentons ever canonically have money issues, but they appear to be middle class as well, and Steph really does have the closest socio-ecenomic level, and therefore pre-hero life experiences, to Danny]

• Steph's dad is Cluemaster, a failed game show host turned criminal, and at once both a brilliant criminal, and a fool who kept getting caught because of his obsession with leaving behind elaborate clues and game show inspired puzzles/hints. He was in prison for so much of her life because of this obsession with crime and clues that Steph hardly spent any time with him.

[The Dr's Fenton are brilliant, genius scientists who can make a portal to a dimension they can't prove exists but are utterly incapable of catching a ghost, never realise Phantom is their son, and spend all their time and lives obsessed with ghost hunting and not raising or caring for their children]

• Steph became a vigilante because of her dad's (criminal) actions, and named herself due to him (she's going to spoil his plans after he stops leaving clues after the latest release from prison, and she will leave them instead so the police will catch him again).

[Danny became a halfa because of the portal, started fighting ghosts because of the portal, and names himself Phantom because of being a halfa]

• Steph isn't trusted/believed in/supported by the majority of the 'real vigilantes/heroes' [batfam, birds of prey] - Bruce switches between ignoring her, disavowing her and ordering everyone else to shut her out, or supporting and training her before going back to kicking her out and telling her to go home and hang up the cape, and other adult heroes who know about her home life and situation only tell her to stop being a vigilante and don't actually really step in to help her.

Black canary helped Steph kick her dad and his criminal buddies - including the Riddler! - out of their house when he comes home from prison but that's the most support Steph ever gets from adults.

Tim is supportive of Steph but also agrees with Bruce she shouldn’t be a vigilante and never hides his disapproval at the start until they grow close. When they're dating, Tim knows Steph's vigilante and civilian ID but Steph only knows him as Robin, Steph grows unhappy and tries to find out his civilian ID despite promising not to, and their relationship isn't the healthiest (on both sides), because they're both vigilante teenagers with complicated views on life and relationships, and not great role models.

Cass starts off not very friendly then slowly become friends with Steph until Gotham Knights Vol 1 #37, where Steph fails a test Bruce set for her and Bruce completely disavows her. Tim is the only bat that still talks to her after that, Cass follows Bruce's orders and their friendship is gone. They don't become close again until Steph is Robin, just before Steph dies.

Cluemaster knows Steph is Spoiler (Batman told him when he was going to pour acid onto her face), and has her kidnapped, threatens to kill her mother and her if she interferes with his plans again, and is a very present and real danger to her.

[Danny isn't supported by any of the adults in his life, has a contentious to outright unfriendly relationship with vigilante Valerie and a romance with civilian Valerie - also with ID complication, and the GIW certainly aren't supporting or safe at all for Phantom. His parents are constantly trying to capture him to "tear him apart molecule by molecule" when they're not neglecting Danny, and Vlad is Vlad.

The only support Danny alway has and can rely on are Sam, Tucker and Jazz.]

[This is all post crisis pre flashpoint canon, I'm not sure about The New 52 and onwards]

Just, even when people are mentioning liminal bats, Steph often gets passed over for Jason Damian and Cass, sometimes Bruce, but Steph died too! She was also "to the point of death" in the retcon where she survived, I don't think it's ever stated whether she truly did flatline but Batman fully believed she died in front of him so it's not impossible.

[autisticsupervillain]

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday!

This Week's Fighters...

Lapis Lazuli vs Sollux Captor!

Conditions:

No Restrictions.

Scenario:

At a diplomatic meeting between Era 3 Homeworld and Earth C, a comparison between troll blood castes and gem types escalates into a comparison between which is stronger, Lapis Lazulis or yellow blooded psionics. They elect to settle the debate with a sparing match between Lapis and Sollux.

Analysis: Lapis

For eons, long before the birth of humanity, the galaxy saw one and only one sentient race: the Gems of the Homeworld Empire, the loyal servants of the Great Diamond Authority.

Militaristic and imperialistic, the Gems conquered all that they saw for centuries, exterminating life uncontested for centuries until they found one planet: Earth. On this seemingly insignificant blue rock, they encountered two things they had never had to deal with before: sentient life forms and rebellious gems. Horrified by the revelation that they were destroying sentient life, Pink Diamond elected to stage a rebellion against herself under the persona of Rose Quartz, sparking a war that would cost countless lives.

One of the lives ruined in the wake of this catastrophe was that of one Lapis Lazuli, one of Homeworld's teraformers, who was attacked and "poofed" by the rebels in some unnamed skirmish. Captured by the empire and mistaken for a traitor, she was sealed inside a mirror and interrogated for information she didn't have until Homeworld was forced to retreat from Earth. She was then found by the Crystal Gems and, believed to be non sentient, kept and forgotten for decades. It wasn't until she was given to and released by the young Steven Universe that she would ever be freed from her prison.

She wasn't to happy with being held prisoner for centuries, first by her own Empire, then by the very rebels she was accused of being with in the first. Lapis wanted nothing more then to go back home, but as soon as she got the chance, Lapis was again taken prisoner. She had nowhere to go but Earth and Homeworld would keep trying to destroy that and her. It took... a long time before she could begin to think of the planet that took so much from her as a home.

While the road to recovery was long, Steven's forgiveness and compassion eventually allowed her to move past her trauma and integrate into human society, joining the Crystal Gems and becoming a protector of the Earth.

First and foremost, Lapis is a Gem and thus possesses a physiology entirely unique from that of a human. Firstly, her body isn't organic. It's made of hard light, and can thus be shapeshifted according to her desires, so long as she has enough energy for it. As a result, she does not age, doesn't need sleep, food, or drink, and will live forever. Similarly, if her body is every damaged or destroyed, she can simply recreate a new one. The only known way to kill her in combat is destroying her gemstone. But, it should be noted that gems can still be incapacitated by destroying their bodies, as repairing their physical form takes time and can take anywhere from a few minutes to several weeks depending on how long the gem takes to redesign their body. Furthermore, this process leaves the gem vulnerable to bubbling, a process where the gemstone is bubbled by another Gem, thus sealing away their consciousness.

Thankfully, Lapis has a whole host of abilities to prevent this from happening. Being designed for terraforming, Lapis has access to incredibly powerful hydrokinetic abilities. She can create wings to fly, can create chains to bind her opponents, even dragging them to the bottom the ocean, and can even create exact duplicates of her opponents made of water. She has also shown a limited degree of ice manipulation by freezing her water. Her whole job is to terraform entire planets to suit the conquering Gems's needs, by obliterating them with their own oceans. Her control is so great, that she was able to beat two other Lapis Lazuli's simultaneously and stole the entire planet's ocean overnight.

That much water moving that fast would generate kinetic energy equivalent to 35 petatons of TNT.

Source:

Even without using the entire ocean as a weapon, Lapis is remarkably powerful. She can easily send Jasper flying with one watery punch and can create duplicates equal to Garnet while not paying her any real attention. This means that she's easily a match for even the toughest of Gems even at a minimum level of effort. Garnet by herself was capable of effortlessly punching mountains in half, turning sand into glass while playing volleyball, and cracking an escape pod in half, which landed with a kinetic energy equivalent to 142 kilotons of TNT and was fine.

Source:

However, while Lapis is incredibly powerful... her body itself clearly isn't. She can endure the vacuum of space just fine, yes, but even common Rubies can do that. Given that Lapis was one-shot by Bismuth, it's quiet clear to me that she isn't as tough as her waterbending is.

Luckily, she should be fast enough to dodge any oncoming damage. She was able to fly from the edge of the Milky Way and back in the span of four months, requiring her to fly 93,414x faster than light.

Source:

This took place after the episode that explained that Gems physically cannot travel faster than light due to being made of it. Either light speed is much faster in the Universe-verse or writers cannot do math.

Overall, Lapis is clearly one of the most powerful of the Crystal Gems, bringing literally world shaking power to any match she enters, overwhelming all but the most powerful instantly.

Analysis: Sollux

Doom. The Aspect of dispair. Those bound by Doom are fates chosen sufferers, predestined for a life of pain and misery. And there is no better example of that in all of Paradox Space than Sollux Captor.

Born on the alien hell world of Alternia, Sollux was born as a Gold Blood. The third lowest caste in Troll society. Thanks to his status, he was not only relentlessly persecuted, but he was predestined to serve as a living battery for the Empire's warships, guaranteeing a short life of pain and misery once he left the planet. Even on the planet, his life wasn't much better. Largely because a nearby highblood and local 8itch mind controlled him into killing his own girlfriend.

So yeah, as you can see, if you're bound to the Aspect of Doom, then life is just going to shit over you right from minute one. While all your friends are bound to primordial concepts that grant them cool superpowers, you're bound to a concept that forces you to hear the voices of those who are soon to die. Well, okay, I say that, but it's not all bad for poor Sollux. For one thing, being a SBURB Player does give him a few handy perks, like a video game style hammerspace inventory called a Specibus, or a leveling up system called an Echeladder, which goes up continuously as you do random things, ensuring that you're always getting stronger.

Not like Sollux needs much help with that. He's easily the most powerful psionic on the planet, arguably the strongest in history. As a direct descendant (or clone. Kinda. It's complicated.) of the Psiioniic, Sollux has inherited all his absurd abilities and psionic powers. This includes telekinesis powerful enough to lift buildings and eye lasers big enough to vaporize skyscrapers.

Sollux's telekinesis is so powerful, it can overpower and redirect meteors summoned by the Reckoning, including those the size of Australia. That's a feat that requires at least 3 exatons of tnt. And that's on top of it's utterly ridiculous range, allowing Sollux to grab and throw meteors from the other side of the universe or blow up a laptop that was in a different timeline entirely.

Source:

But, as with all things Doom bound or SBURB related, it came at a price. Since Sollux was a SBURB Player, he was inevitably going to witness the end of his race, as it's the job of him and the rest of his friends to create the next universe while their old one dies. Furthermore, he didn't even get to live in our universe, because someone from the universe he and his friends just created traveled back in time to kill all of his friends. The pressure of having to hide from this god-like entity shattered his already fragile friend group, causing Sollux's rival, Eridan, to go on a killing spree. This resulted in Eridan vaporizing Sollux's eyes and killing his new girlfriend... right before Sollux gets dropped down a flight of stairs for unrelated reasons. And not long after that, Sollux half dies from the exertion of pushing his spaceship across the Outer Ring at faster than light speeds, moving at 1,041,320.39 the speed of light.

Ironically, the narration here describes him as supposedly moving at "near lightspeed" and there was a whole spiel from Jade about faster than light travel supposedly being impossible. Yet another case of "writers cannot do math".

Source:

Man, Sollux is just the Spider-Man of the Homestuck universe. He certainly has about as many dead girlfriends. That isn't even counting the time he got forcibly fused with the person who killed his girlfriend (not Vriska, the other one). Yeah, needless to say, when your life sucks as much as Sollux's does, you become something of a grumpy dick. He's relentlessly cynical and pessimistic asshole, which is certainly not helped by his bipolar mood swings and short temper.

Despite this though, Sollux's luck did eventually begin to turn around. He's far and away the most competent hacker in Paradox Space, capable of hacking into a video game that alters the fabric of reality. Eventually, his first girlfriend came back to life as an immortal time goddess and they hooked up again, a little while after Sollux discovered he is now half-ghost. This means, not only does he not age anymore, but he's only half blind now, with only his living half being bound to his pre-existing injuries. So, not only is Sollux Spider-Man, he's also Danny Phantom.

So, no matter how badly life kicks him, Sollux is always going to rain down hell on whoever and whatever crosses his path.

Throwdown Theme:

Throwdown Breakdown:

I feel like this match up is fairly decisive.

For as much raw power as both of them wield, Sollux takes the edge in the standard stat trifecta. His 3 exaton feat would translate to 3,000 petatons against Lapis's maximum output of 35 petatons, a whooping 85x strength gap in his favor. Meanwhile, in speed, Lapis can move thousands of times faster than light, while Sollux can move millions of times faster. (93,414c vs 1,041,320c, an 11x difference).

However, there is something of an argument to be made here. Both franchises do try to have a rule that faster than light speed is impossible, so wouldn't the gap be closer if we took that at its word?

Well, no. While Lapis would have scaling that borders in lightspeed even without her own feats, Sollux would explicitly be an exception to the light speed rule. His very own Ancestor, whom he inherits his powers from and is technically a genetic copy of, was described as being so powerful that he broke the lightspeed rule, being capable of crossing thousands of light years in mere hours. So it'd be even worse for Lapis if I didn't ignore the light speed rule. If anything, this gives Lapis something of an edge. While Sollux is decently faster, it's only while pushing himself to the brink that he sizably outpaces her.

Though, in Lapis's defense, she has several abilities that Sollux does not. Water chains to restrain him, water clones to wear him down, ice to freeze him solid. The problem with landing those win conditions is power. Lapis could drown Sollux or chuck him into space, as he needs air to breath while Lapis does not, but she'd struggle to do that when he can very easily blast the water away. Lapis has never made a water clone strong enough to match someone like Sollux, so she likely wouldn't be able to here, and if she did, she'd have to use up all her available water to maintain it, as the strength of her attacks relies on how much water she has access to.

I do believe it is hypothetically possible for Lapis to match Sollux if she had access to more water, as her strongest feat is something she did while highly injured, but that's highly circumstantial. If the entirety of Earth's oceans don't give her enough water to match Sollux head on, how likely is it that they'll fight on a planet that would?

Ultimately, that plays into Lapis's greatest issue here. Her powers are all external. She relies on a planet having a lot of water for her to weaponize, while Sollux's power is all his own. We know for a fact Sollux can survive his own power because he fires it out of his face and doesn't obliterate himself. We know for a fact that Lapis can't because Bismuth dropped her in one punch. When Sollux realizes that Lapis relies entirely on the ocean, he can just... throw the ocean into space. That's it. Fight's over.

Both of these characters lack a sizable amount of combat experience compared to their peers. While they're both capable of fighting people their own size, they do strongly rely on being absurdly more powerful than everything in most circumstances. It just so happens that Sollux is the much stronger one here.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

Sollux Captor!

[minseologs]

if tenderness was measured by how much one was in pain

Minseo had learned at an early age that if she wanted something, she would have to earn it in ways that would please the other so much to the point that she would accept pain and suffering on her own. It applied in everything in her life, as if that was the only thing she had ever come to know. The root could be traced back as far as when she was born. Always off to the side, uncomfortable in the public’s eye when her family acts as though they didn’t spite her existence previously. It was always a surprise when others have come to realize that second child was there as a spare. Soft-spoken in a lot of ways, there wasn’t much to talk about her aside from her supposed kind nature on the surface.

It wasn’t new that she often rejected people’s help and only took the ones familiar to her. There was always an initial assumption of needing something from her due to the fact that whenever her own family displayed any sort of will to assist or give, it would usually mean they needed something else— anything. A reflective form of response. For many years, Minseo had thought being kind was like this. A mere transaction to get by, most often with financial depth. It made her happy, somehow. The mind set has trickled down to the point where she had already hurt people without knowledge. Her entire existence is to give and give, until there is nothing left.

“--Fucking hate it when I’m feeling this way.” Minseo’s voice cracks as a single tear rolls down her cheek, wiping it away as quickly as it came. The emotional toll of being captive in her own hospital room had caught up and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t affect her. “I don’t understand why I can’t be home. Won’t it be safer? Wenhan’s there to care for me— Xian's been watching me so he can vouch.”

“That’s the thing, Miss Choi.” Her legal advisor looks over reports of challenging authority, most of the trouble she’s put herself in had been akin to people watching her every move. “Your excuse for this behavior could be possible from the medication, but excessive force and — ‘attempt to asphyxiate’ a guard — is out of our league. This isn’t a place we can handle things easily. I’d have to bribe hush money and erase records of things here— do you know how difficult that was?”

She looks on, her recklessness has caused even more isolation. Minseo felt more like a prisoner of a place that shouldn’t have felt the way it did while everything around her continued.

“I have a feeling this is more than just what had happened—“ her advisor flips a page, to look on. “You’ve been too erratic lately. How can we know you won’t be the same in Seongbuk? On top of all of it, the trial is still finishing up. We can't do anything but hide you away from everyone.”

Minseo kept her lips shut, thinking about how things would’ve been better off if she just didn’t survive. She admits, the feeling of just being content was so distant.

“We’ll go ahead and arrange for you to meet some psychologists. Talking to someone aside from the two will help, I’m sure. You’re not a lost cause.” She watches as the woman packs her things and heads for the door. “Why don’t you talk to your other friends? Talk to staff and try not to kill them?”

“I’d be a nuisance…”

-

"Why?" A voice on the phone challenged the idea. "It can't be a private donation if you're giving in large amount. This is a private institution."

""You're my financial advisor, let's figure it out. There has to be a way..."

"Well, you can make a charity event. Pass it off as multiple donations."

"I don't want to bring anymore attention to myself, thank you." Minseo furrows at her reflection in the mirror of her room, watching the time with thought. "What if it's like a small gathering? passed off as charity, by me. No press, no attention. Just the department and a few friends or something. We always did that for the orphanage."

"It's different, Miss Choi. Even then, I'd have to ensure your name is not with in this." the man was distressed with the request. "How am I going to split a hundred million won in between the orphanages and then the hospital all of a sudden?"

"I was in my session today that I found out the hospital is cutting annual financial support for therapy considering they found other things to worry of... how sad is that?" she chimes over the phone, looking of her reports. She had another week to show them she can sustain survival on her own. She was eyeing one nurse that appeared easiest to be kind to. "I swear... it's like sometimes I was meant to know things at the right time."

"I'm sure they're doing their very best to get you out."

Minseo was simple in life, but gave more to people who could need it without being asked. She was a patron of many associations under her name, even more so than her family. But what was a charitable deed on the surface for the rest to see was her own selfish reason to fill a void in her. A reason to cope. The gratitude filled her with joy even if she wasn't recognized. Still, even in the end, she kept looking for kindness in the wrong places. Defining it with tainted feelings and devoid of its purpose.

"Yeah.. I've been told 'money buys happiness' right?"

[starlightmoon96]

The age of Rosalie Chapter 13

Because of Lucrecio's soul bond to Rosalie he was able to feel Rosalie's feelings both physically and mentally, while he was having a meeting on earth with the living human allies Rosalie had and him in his human disguise. he felt Rosalie's body being unusually heavy which meant to him that she had been drugged that made her very worried. But what made him more worried was when he heard a very familiar music box song, the humans that where with Lucrecio had noticed his discomfort and asked what was wrong with him, Lucrecio realized that he was the only one that was hearing the music box. Lucrecio immanently canceled the meeting and left in a hurry, he was more worried about Rosalie not just anyone can catch her off guard and he needed to find her without blowing his cover.

As for the reason why Lucrecio heard the music Valentino had noticed the heart shaped music locket that Rosalie had on her person since she was wearing modern clothing instead of her Belmont robes, he opened the locket out of curiosity as soon as he brought Rosalie to his home and in his room while she was still drugged. He knew that locket when he was alive she had the locket on her and kept it close, she didn't let him touch it and got VERY defensive about the music locket. Hearing the music the came out of the locket surprised him, now that he knew how old Rosalie really was he wasn't certain how old the locket was. What else he noticed was that where was an engraving inside the locket ' When two souls are meant for one another, nothing can keep them apart', seeing those words Valentino

had a feeling that it was a gift from Rosalie's unnamed husband he didn't know about until recently, like with the jewelry Rosalie had on her that locket was a little more protected when Valentino tried destroying it.

 When he first noticed the black wedding ring on her figure he was about to take it off her but saw that he couldn't since the ring had a type of barrier around that so no demon could take it, the same with her prized bracelet that had the Belmont crest on it. He wanted to destroy that ring but he couldn't, but what he wanted most was killing 'Rosalie's husband' he wanted to know who he was and what he did it earn Rosalie Belmont's undying love. It was something even he couldn't do when he was alive, what was more to his curiosity was that she was still alive after being shot threw the heart by him before he died and from the fact that she hadn't aged a day since he last saw her, he wasn't going to waste an opportunity as he felt his old feels starting to surface after so many decades.

 When Rosalie started coming too her head was pounding because of the alcohol and had bad hangover that made her want to cover her eyes and then she noticed that she was really couldn't move her body that much after she really struggled in moving her arms out of stubbornness,then then realized that she was looking up at herself from the ceiling seeing that it was a mirror ceiling. What really pissed her off was that someone had touched her upon seeing that her clothing attire changed, from her regular modern clothes to something more revealing lingerie with the color being red. Something about the way the lingerie look made Rosalie had a familiar feeling that she didn't like, she had enough strength to turn her head and saw that she was in a completely different room. What made her more worried was seeing the strange cuffs on her wrists that she now noticed along with the long chair like she was a prisoner, when she tried using her magic she was surprised with how weak she was which was a first for her. But what confused her more was seeing the ring that was above her wedding ring, the diamond on it was hedge that made her uncomfortable. Rosalie then thought of how she got in the situation and really thought back about until she remembered her last glass of wine.

"The glass of wine."

A sense of fear quickly came to Rosalie that made her very worried with using a lot of strength she managed to sit up still looking at the new ring on her finger

" Oh no, not HIM again?" Rosalie tensed up more when she heard the door open and the look of shock was clear on her face when she saw Valentino, he shown that he was pleased seeing her awake as he blew out red smoke from his cigarette. 

"~Up already? That's something I was expecting for another few hours with THOSE drugs in your system? But then again you are stubborn.~" Rosalie tried using her magic when he started approaching her but she saw that she was still too weak, just she was strong enough to use one spell and that was shooting a beam of fire at Valentino it wasn't enough to really hurt him but to was enough force that it knocked off his glasses and a few burn marks on his face. With acting fast Rosalie used her physic connection to Lucrecio in tell him that he had been kidnapped by Valentino and he told her that he would get help as fast as possible, when the link ended Rosalie had became exhausted due to the drugs still in effect of her body.

"I was hoping you've suffer here in hell, not the other way around." Rosalie said that glaring at Valentino when he picked up his glasses and putting them back on his face, before she knew it Valentino had pinned her to the bed and looking at her dead in the eyes as he still had the same smirk that she hated.

"~Come on Rose don't be like that. Didn't I treat you like a queen during out three years together?~" Rosalie turned her head to the side so she wouldn't look at him as she answered him

"I see that attitude of yours hasn't changed the slightest. Honestly I was a little surprised when I first heard you became an overlord from Helen. I almost feel sorry for the people that work for you down here." Valentino wasn't happy hearing that, normally he'd beat someone for saying something like that to him. And he almost did but he stopped himself when Rosalie looked back at him, showing no ounce of fear towards him and he glanced at the arm that she knew that he was going to hit her with and then looked back at him, clearly seeing he didn't know what to do seeing he was a little confused and nervous at the same time.

 "What are you going to do? Hit me like a bitch? Like you've done with so many other people? Let me guess not many have the balls to stand up to you like I'm doing down here huh?" She knew that she was right and not many low ranking demons had the guts in standing up to an overlord, Rosalie wasn't a normal human so she had no fear towards the demon that was in front of her. At least not until she was rescued, she was really buying time really she was scared shittless that she was drugged and Valentino was thee last person she wanted to see. Though she still kept her cool as her rolled her eyes and looked away from Valentino with an annoyed look on her face, but Valentino didn't like being ignored or not getting his way. Instead of being angry he smirked as he used one of his lower arms in pulling out Rosalie's heart music locket, the second it out Valentino opened it which played the music that startled Rosalie that made her looked back at Valentino and seeing what he was holding as he was looking close at it while it was still playing.

" I remember you being defensive about this locket, you wouldn't let me even touch it even during our wedding." Rosalie wasn't happy seeing that locket being touched by someone else and it showed

"Give it the fuck back." Using a lot of strength left Rosalie managed to lunch at Valentino and with a quick reaction like he knew what she would do Valentino pinned her again this time using both of his arms in holding Rosalie's arms up above her as he closed the locket while looked at her

"~If I do that, what do I GET out of it? Though I'm more curious about something else?~" Rosalie quickly caught something when Valentino got closer to her and that was the smell of the cigarette's that he smokes, the scent was started to make her head feel a little strange that confused her.

"What the fuck am I smelling on you?"

"~It works on humans? Good to know, especially since it works on YOU.~" While still holding her arms above her head Valentino removed one of his hand and lifted up Rosalie's chin when he got just a few inches away from her lips and the scent increased more that actually made her worried as she felt her body trembling which rarely happened to her

"~It feels good doesn't it? Taking over your senses? I've crafted these special cigarettes as well as my own abilities that I put in them as well, the smell came increased a demon sexual intentions. Your the first that I've tested on humans and it seems to work just as well on you.~" Before she knew it Valentino forced his lips on her and it didn't make her situation any better, but she wasn't going to give up without a fight. So she bit him the second she felt his tongue in her mouth that made her released his moth off her and blood coming out of his mouth and Rosalie spitting out his blood right at his face, she expected him to hit her up instead he chuckled as he brought her close to her after he removed his coat by opening his wings and folding them on his back so they wouldn't get in his way. 

"~Oh I'm really going to enjoy this.~" Rosalie couldn't help but remembering how Valentino held her when he was alive, she hated the feeling then. But she hated it even more now at the moment since he was now a demon, he was cold like corpse and him having four arms didn't help any.

"~It really has been a long time, I've almost forgotten what the warmth of living flesh feels like. And you feel and smell just like how I last saw you, it almost puts a tear to my eyes.~" Valentino said that as he inhaled the scent from Rosalie's neck smelling her skin and having a pleased look on his face

"~Though, somehow you smell much sweeter...more irresistible for some reason.~" Rosalie shivered in fear and felt tears streaming down her cheeks when she felt him licking her neck down to her collarbone, due to thee fear she was feeling it activated the blessing she didn't know she had since she felt in great danger. It wasn't a feeling she often had so she didn't realize the protection blessing under the amount of fear she was feeling, just when Valentino was about to rip off Rosalie's clothes someone had came crashing in the room by breaking threw the glass window from the outside.

"~ Ugh...What's a guy got to do to get a dirty 4:30 around here?~" Valentino said that which stopped his actions towards Rosalie and before he got up he bit Rosalie in the side of her neck hard enough to draw blood and even licking her bit mark before it instantly healed right before his eyes, but when he turned and saw that it was Twilight that had crashed into the room he started to act a little strange and his started to glow suddenly. Seeing his body language made Rosalie worried seeing Valentino's attention back at her and him tilting his head to her and the look on his face made her blood go cold

"Oh no...Helen..get him away from me...now. He tasted me blood." Helen quickly acted using her powers she was able to get Valentino away from Rosalie before he lunged at her, but it didn't stop him. His personality changed instantly the moment he tasted Rosalie's blood, Helen fought him off and detracted him while Cordelia had helped her mother up.

"Let's get you out of here."Was what Cordelia said but Rosalie stopped her daughter when he pointed at Valentin's jacket

"Wait, my locket I can't leave without it." With that said Cordelia quickly grabbed her locket that fell on the ground and put it around her mother's neck so she wouldn't lose it, the second Cordelia gave the locket back to her mother the two of them left when Cordelia flew out of the building while holding Rosalie. Using what magic she was able to do Rosalie created a portal that brought her and Cordelia back to earth just before Valentino had caught up with them when he managed to get past Twilight and fly after Cordelia.

____

"How are you holding up in there rosebud?" Lucrecio questioned that outside the bathroom door from Rosalie home in New Orleans and he heard her puking and it make him worried for her

"This almost reminds me when she was pregnant with Cordelia, except she isn't craving goats blood." Lucrecio said that still being worried and he wasn't alone both Cordelia and Twilight where with him and they where just as concerned as he was as he questioned Twilight

"What did Valentino do to her? I've never seen her act like THIS before?"

"Well from what I know since I don't like being around the creep, he smokes these special cigarettes that released out a demons sexual nature when they inhale that smoke. I guess he tested it out on her since he never knew what would happen with a human is exposed it the stuff?" Twilight said that and Lucrecio  couldn't help back looked back at the bathroom door 

"It only half worked on her, before meeting me Rosalie didn't have a sex life. She was VERY choosy and never found anyone, if she didn't met me she told me she would have been fine not having a sex life." Twilight sighed hearing that

"I'd believe it, but I am surprised she reacting like THIS. That drug isn't suppose to make you puke. Maybe it's Rose's body fighting off the forced sex emotions out of her system" The trio heard Rosalie sneeze before she continued puking and whining

"Ahh..it's hurts, I think I just lost a like two pounds?" That was what they heard Rosalie said before they heard her start puking again 

"Cordelia, could you tell your sister to help make some special healing tea from the medicinal garden. Please, it sounds like your mother needs the strong stuff?" 

That's what Cordelia did, she didn't like hearing her mother in so much pain and wanted to help the same with Adrianna when she heard what happened. With Rosalie's books in medicine and potions the two where able to help make the right type of tea that was needed as soon as Rosalie was done puking, after she had the special healing tea in her systems she passed out asleep and Lucrecio tucked her in their bed.

"Did he do anything to her?" Lucrecio questioned that to Twilight as he was lovingly rubbing Rosalie's face

"He was about to if I hadn't stopped him, but when he tasted her blood after he bit her. He acted....strange....Luc do you happen to know what happens to demons when the drink Rosalie's blood?" Her saying that made him a little worried as he looked back at Twilight

"No, actually. No demon has been brave enough to even do that with her. She told me what happens to living people if they drink her blood before they dye because of Alastor, but never a demon..What happened to Valentino?"

" He acted in a frenzy just after he had a small taste when he bit her. But right after Rose left hell he came to his senses, also apparently by some weird reason it got him horny and I didn't want to be there a second longer so here I am now away from the guy." Hearing that part from Twilight made Adrianna and Cordelia very worried and Adrianna spoke up first

"Eww...seriously that's not possible?" 

"Oh it's possible and one of the reasons why Grand Wiccans are VERY hard to come by even during Rosalie's childhood in the 15th century...I just never believed it and I love her too much to never consider the thought." Where the three words Lucrecio said as he started to explain

"From what I've reed during my youth Grand Wiccan's are indeed powerful than regular wiccan's but so is there blood especially if there still alive. Wiccan and White Witch blood is a type of strong drug to demons like heroin and it depends on how powerful the human is, but a Grand Wiccan or Grand White Witch. That's another story." Him saying that made his two daughters very worried

"That blood is more addicting and dangerous, just a small taste is serious your hooked. It's more than just the superior flavor, for demons mainly high ranking demons like myself or even overlords like Helen here. That blood goes much deeper than that, Adrianna as you know demons live for very long time humans like yourself and Rosalie can give a little spice to that life. Both blood and soul can charm/vex/tantalize and even going on a sexual almost euphoric destructive frenzy."

"Like what happened to Valentino. But mother doesn't fully know her own blood since she didn't know anything about her mother's father. For all we know mother's blood maybe even more precious and dangerous?"Cordelia said that while looking back at her mother

"That puts you in danger also owlet, your maybe a half breed but you also have Grand Wiccan blood in you, the same with your children and there's. I haven't said anything to Rosalie before and after she had you because I didn't want that fear impacting on your life too much. Otherwise you wouldn't have met Eros and had a family of your own." Cordelia had a shocked and worried look on her face

"That's why you've been so protective with making sure the wrong people don't find out the truth?" Lucrecio nods his head yes before answering

"One of them yes, it helps with appearances that you allied yourself with Helen here so it won't be suspicious. But who knows what would happen to your family even if there now members of the Grand Dukes family."

"Looks like it might be best for Rosalie to not step foot in the Pride Ring for a while."Adrianna made the suggestion and Twilight spoke up

"But she's now partners with Charlie's cos for her sinner rehab, how am I suppose to explain THIS to her without having Alastor finding out since he tasted Rose's blood before. I don't want him getting any funny ideas with her and YOU also since she adopted you as her daughter and she made that own to Charlie and her party. Only a matter of time before word really started spreading."

Adrianna knew that she was right and wanted what was best for Rosalie and now finding out the truth about Grand Wiccan and Grand White Witch blood it only made her want to learn how to fight like a real Belmont even more, she begged Cordelia in doing more heavy training since she not only wanted to defend herself but also wanting in defending her new family as well. While Adrianna continued her training Twilight had to return back to hell in checking with Valentino seeing if he calmed down or not, as much as Lucrecio didn't want to leave Rosalie he had to since he interrupted his own meeting and knew that Rosalie can handle herself.

After an hour or so Rosalie started regaining consciousness when she felt someone lovingly rubbing the top of her head, when she opened her eyes her vision was still very blurry the only thing she can make out was the blonde hair style that she was familiar with and making out that it was a male figure.

"Lucifer?" She said that in a confused state both in her voice and the look of confusion on her face, she didn't get a verbal response the person gently covered her eyes with their hand and kissed the center of her forehead. And out of her control she passed out again, that person that was with her wasn't Lucifer and she wasn't fully wrong either that person was Michael. Using his powers she was able to heal Rosalie and fully getting all the drugs out of her systems so she wouldn't wake up feeling horrible, he came to her side because he felt his blessing being used and it was a serious matter since she was rarely in physical and mental danger. 

During the time she spend with Valentino when he was alive, it really hurt Michael watching and he clearly saw that he made Rosalie uncomfortable and he was with her in wanting a monster like Valentino gone off the earth and making human lives a little easier without him in it. He was very proud of his granddaughter in keeping her promise in wanting to better humanity a lot like how Blanchefleur wanted to help man-kind for the better but was ahead of her time and was fully aware of it, without Rosalie knowing she was fulfilling her grandmother's wish and Michael's as well in her own way. It also warmed his heart that Rosalie also adopted a child again into the Belmont family seeing how she was a perfect fit and happy in calling her his great granddaughter, though he had mixed feeling in giving her a blessing like he did with Cordelia since Adrianna wasn't related to him by blood.

After Michael returned to heaven he was a little curious in his niece's idea about rehabilitating sinners, but it did worry him at the same time with both Charlotte and Rosalie had met and both sensed a type of connection with each other with either of them not knowing that they where blood related.

____

When Rosalie came too

she felt better than ever and was revealed that she wasn't sick to her stomach anymore, while she was up an about she realized that her old clothes she was wearing where in hell and didn't want to go back for them. She had a sick feeling about what Valentino was doing with them and didn't want them back, but she did burn the lingerie she was forced to wear since it smelled like him and didn't want that in her home.

"I wonder if I imagined Lucifer? But why did it feel it wasn't really him?" Rosalie thought that to herself as she had dressed herself in some new attire, she did like her old clothes but she had to move on with a new style.

"Oh well, guess I can worry about that later? But first I need to have that little chat."

For her own safetyRosalie asked Twilight to bring Angel Dust to the living word specifically my office at Rosemont Academy, yes she was scared shittless and he should be. He was also tired by in blessed robe in a chair that the Belmont family owned so he wasn't going anywhere. They weren't alone standing next to him was samurai in his late fifties dressed in black robes and a a type of cloth hoodie over his head, he stood proud and honorably.

"Ah..Rose...nice too ah...see ya again. Digging the new outfit." Angel Dust said that clearly being nervous and Rosalie was annoyed and groaned hearing that from him and when she snapped her fingers once the samurai's face's had quickly changed to that of a gray wolf with blue piercing eyes and drew out his sword directly at Angel's Dust's neck that made him freak out

"Okay, I'm sorry. I had no choice Val made me do it, I really didn't want too. He's been planning it ever since you let me have your hair. How the fuck was I suppose to know he had it bad for ya at first?" Rosalie sighed hearing that and leaned back in her chair

"Haku, yield." Her saying that the sword that hovered Angel Dust's neck retreated and returned back to his sheaf that made Angel Dust breath a sigh of relief and he looked back at the samurai 

"So is he some kind of demon?"

"No, he's an Inugami. Japanese dog/ghost wesen they are are deeply devoted to their traditions of honor. His kind can be become bound in servitude and honor to protect if someone saves their live, I not only did that but for his entire family during world war two. Haku's family isn't the only family I help. He was kind enough to be here during his work schedule, he also my one of my legal attorneys for Rosemont Academy and University and a VERY good one at that." Rosalie explained that and it only left Angel Dust confused

"Wesen, that's a new fucking word. How long have these wesen been around?"

"Before the Belmont family was came to be...

that's all I'll say for now..." Where Rosalie words and she glared at Haku

"That'll be all Haku, also I got a few cases I need you to look into for me. You know I don't really like going out in the media public eye, I sent you an email to you and the others. Your main one is aiding a few cover ups for the returned Rosemont students. Some nosy people need to be dealt with before things get worse." With that said Haku turned to his human form and bows to Rosalie with respect

"Hai Madam." And that said Haku had left Rosalie's office and Rosalie glared back at Angel Dust who started shacking in fear as she stood up out of her chair

"How much did you tell Valentino? You leave out anything..." As Rosalie was talking she had pulled out a glowing white blade dagger with the Belmont crest on it and pointed it at Angel Dust

"It won't be pretty. See this dagger here is a demon hunters weapon, this is made from angelic sword my father made himself after his father killed an extermination angel. But he made it special, one deep cut into the flesh of a demon and they go 'pop' within seconds." If fear Angel Dust had confused everything to Rosalie with what he knew as she pointed the dagger at Angel's throat and not breaking eye contact with him, Rosalie wasn't happy when she heard that Angle Dust told Val that she was married and instantly Rosalie grabbed his head very firm and held the tip of the dagger close to one of his eyes and that really terrified him.

"Why the fuck did you tell him about my husband? He's going to start nosing around and finding stuff I don't want anyone outside MY allies knowing." 

"Ahhh..speaking of husbands did you really marry Val..like legally?" Rosalie smirked hearing that

"Who said anything about it being legal?" Hearing that Angel's eyes widened in realizing what she meant

"Wait did you...use him?" Rosalie put the dagger down and she sat on her desk

"Valentino may not look it but he can be a real simp, especially with ME."

"Val..a simp? That doesn't sound like the Val I know?" Angel stopped himself when Rosalie held up the ring that Valentino had on her finger

"THIS and your actions prove that he still has feelings for me, I honestly hoped that they would go away after he arrived in hell. But it looks like I was wrong? Now as for the marriage, those marriage forms where never taken to the court house like he thought...I kept them." As Rosalie was talking she put the ring down and walked up to Angel Dust

"Also if you say anything he'll just kill you without second thought, so your going to keep your fucking mouth shut if you want to live longer." 

Pissing off Valentino was one thing but pissing off a powerful being like Rosalie was another, Angel Dust swore that he wouldn't tell Valentino anything and that said Rosalie returned him to hell back in his room at the 'Happy Hotel' after that Rosalie kinda wanted some alone time for a short bit after she check on Adrianna and her training with Cordelia.

.....

"Man some day THIS is turning out to be?" Rosalie said that while she sat in one of the stone long chairs in the Belmont garden while watching the sunset, just as she was about to get comfortable she felt a familiar presents that she didn't like that.

" I thought I told you..." Rosalie stopped herself when she turned around she was more confused than angry seeing a few face, he was one of the seven but he was new to her and that person was Gabriel.

"Your a new face? Let me guess your one of Lucifer's siblings right? Younger brother perhaps?" Gabriel was a little surprised by that and more so that she was right

"Y-Yes your correct, I'm Gabriel...I actually just spoke to him recently, about you." Him saying that Rosalie perked up and grabbed him by his collar

"Are you the one that put the stupid blessing on me? I kept saying I want nothing to do with you people. I want it off me." Gabriel shook his head no and responded with

"It wasn't me, I swear. But Lucifer did say whole might have been the one that gave you a forbidden blessing." Saying that only confused Rosalie and she released her hold on the guy

"Forbidden blessing, didn't think there where blessing that you couldn't receive. What makes the one I apparently have forbidden?"

"Your soul is very protected and bounded to the person that gave you that blessing, thus it explains how you've life for over five centuries even after you destroyed the meteor. It's strange energy must have permanently sealed that blessing to your body to a time halt. That blessing can't be removed." Those words really shocked Rosalie not only for that information but also the type of information she was trying find for so many centuries even after coming to the new world, though somehow Rosalie asked another question

"Why are you really here?"

"It's about your mother." Was the answer she got and she looked a little surprised

"That's funny Lucifer ask me that same question? I don't know much about her family I've never met them, she never knew her father and her mother died after she completed her wiccan training and became a grand wiccan like her."

"Did your mother, have a gold leaf that was given to her?" Being asked that Rosalie rolled her eyes and using her magic she had summoned her mother's leaf hair piece in the palm of her hand, Rosalie was more confused seeing the very shocked look on her face seeing that leaf

"Whoa? What's with that look? Is this gold leaf special?"

"Rosalie, would you mind if you would accompany me back to heaven?" Rosalie didn't like that as she put the leaf in her hair

"Why? I said I didn't want to join."

"No not that, it's about.......something else. Something more serious." Was Gabriel's response to Rosalie, she could tell that he was serious. She wanted to know what him and Lucifer had spoke about and she agreed to go to heaven with him only to have some questions answered. 

[deathb1oomsarchive]

CLAIRE REDFIELD

claire is originally from the resident evil franchise

claire is around five and a half years younger than chris. when she was thirteen , their parents were killed in a suspicious car accident. rather than go into foster care or go to live with distant relatives , chris decided to become claire's legal guaridan. he enlisted in the air force and brought claire with him , though she stayed on base with the family of one of the members of chris' unit , the burtons. during this time , claire was being home schooled by kathy burton along with their daughters moira and polly. claire grew very close to the burton women , and she also grew even closer to her brother. she would train with him on hand to hand combat and weapons , learning his training alongside him during his basic training for the air force.

by the time she'd turned eighteen and graduated high school , she and chris were as close as possible , both calling each other their best friends. he encouraged her to go to college , even when she suggested joining the air force with him , stating that she deserved a normal life. she gave in and enrolled in washington university in st. louis to study journalism.

she enjoyed her time in college , taking interesting classes and meeting even more interesting people , but she kept in contact with her brother. they'd never gone longer than a week without checking in , even when he was on missions out of state , and even that was rare. claire could count on hearing from her brother every three days at least , so when two weeks had gone by without a message or an answer to her calls and texts , claire knew something was wrong.

the last message he'd sent her had been about going back to raccoon city , that there had been trouble but ' alpha team was on the way to clean up the mess '. he'd promised to update her later , both having been born in raccoon city , missouri , and had lived there until their parents had died over six years prior. but there had never been an update , never been any contact since. that was not like chris at all.

so claire decided to leave school and go find her brother.

― the events of RE2 take place here and are canon ―

while investigating the raccoon city police department , claire found papers that suggested he'd gone to europe on a mission , but the letters sounded off. claire wasn't in the mood to trust anything after going so long without speaking to her brother , but she had to find out for herself. booking the flight , claire went to an umbrella facility in paris , france. there , she was kidnapped and taken to a different and secure location , rockfort island , where she was held prisoner only for a short amount of time. the man who'd captured her , rodrigo , decided to let her go after realizing the complex was overrun with the dead. she leaves and tries to find a way off the island , meeting steve in the meantime. together , they find out that umbrella had been surveilling chris for a long while. using the same computer that held the information about chris , claire reached out to leon for assistance getting off the island.

eventually chris does come and rescue claire , but not until after steve is dosed with the t veronica virus , mutates , and then is killed trying to protect claire. together , chris and claire leave the island.

after ensuring that everything was alright , and that they wouldn't go so long without speaking again , chris and claire parted ways. claire continued her college education while chris continued working with the military , creating a unit called the BSAA in order to combat the bioterrorism that umbrella was committing.

after graduating college and becoming a full fledged journalist , claire was recruited by a company called terrasave. the company's main goal is to provide aid to communities affected by bioterrorism or medical related incidents. terrasave works outside of the government , though most often their goals are aligned with local government. claire knew that she belonged with terrasave , it was her own way of helping her brother fight the ongoing biological warfare.

― the events of revelations 2 take place here and are canon ―

claire continued work with terrasave throughout the events of RE6 and RE7 but immediately following the dulvey incident , it became obvious to chris that blue umbrella and the BSAA weren't to be trusted. after leaving clues that only she would understand , chris went rogue against the BSAA and went on the run. knowing that he would need someone on the inside , when the BSAA came to recruit claire for the task force that was meant to find the hound wolf squad , she enthusiastically said yes.

throughout the years leading up to romania , and during romania , claire is a full member of the BSAA. she participates in missions and sits in on briefs , though her main mission is to find her brother. she knows that the BSAA doesn't fully trust her , but she's doing her best to help them see that they all want the same thing ― chris to come home.

short and sweet verses :

alternate verse 1 , college verse takes place prior to the events of RE2. claire is a journalism major attending washington university in st louis , missouri ( subject to change based on plot ). faceclaim for this verse is lyndsy fonseca and she is available for shipping.

alternate verse 2 , this verse takes place between RE2 and RE7. during this time , claire is still attending college in the beginning , though now she has already endured the zombie attacks and raccoon city is destroyed. after graduation , claire is recruited into terrasave and throughout this verse she is working with them. faceclaim for this verse is lyndsy fonseca and she is available for shipping.

main verse , after the events of RE7 , chris no longer trusted the BSAA. he and his team of hound wolves decided to go rogue and deal with miranda and the horrors off romania on their own. the BSAA recruited claire to help them find her brother , whom she claims hasn't reached out to her. this verse is the three years prior to RE8 and on. faceclaim for this verse is lyndsy fonseca and she is available for shipping.

more to be added as it comes up!

[free-for-all-fics]

Part 2 of 3 of the Crossover Prompt! This part is probably the longest, as this is where the meat of the story/prompt happens. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! ⚕️🤍

Although Louis, very reluctantly, returned to France as an acclaimed war hero in March 1918, his personal life soon took a turn for the worse. By the time he arrived at Madeleine’s house which he could no longer call home, she had already received a call from John’s family, telling her that they received a telegram from the War Department notifying them John had been killed in action. Enclosed with the telegram was John’s will. Despite their marriage collapsing, he refused to abandon her in her very fragile emotional, mental, and physical state.

Ever since she discovered she was pregnant, she lived the life of a recluse. She suddenly stopped going out in public one day and never left the house or accepted any visitors since. A boy delivered her groceries. Every week she left him money and a list by the back door, and gave him instructions to leave them by that same back door. She always waited until he went away before unlocking the door. She kept away from the front door and windows. She prayed every night that nobody would ever see her stomach before either John married her or Louis came home. When John’s family called to tell her the news of his death, she barely said anything before hanging up. When they came to the house and brought over everything John left to Louis and Madeleine, she didn’t answer the door. They waited a few moments, but she didn’t come. So they assumed she wasn’t at home and left the box of items on the doorstep. The door opened just a crack. Arms came reaching out from the darkness. They quickly snatched the box and brought it inside, then firmly shut and locked the door within seconds. John’s family didn’t notice because they were long gone by that point.

While she accepted Louis’ help and support, he could tell it was only because she had nobody else to turn to. John’s family could never know he fathered a child out of wedlock with a married woman. Madeleine’s family could never know she soiled their good name by laying with a man who wasn’t her husband and birthed his child. The scandal would break up their families forever, and that was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t have an alternative. She was far enough along that their only viable option by that point was to bide their time so that they could convincingly pass off the baby as Louis’. They’d likely have to fabricate a story about the baby being born premature. While she understood the risks that came with it, including the risk of either her and/or the baby’s death, she decided she wanted to give birth in the privacy of her home. It would be easier to lie about the baby’s birthdate and parentage if the only witnesses were Louis, a midwife, and maybe a wet nurse. She knew that. And he knew she knew that. But still Louis could see it in her eyes that she didn’t want him there, not really. Every time she looked at him, she probably thought about how it should’ve been John, the actual father of her baby and the man she truly loved, beside her throughout her pregnancy. Not him. Not Louis.

She often cried, as if the ferocity of it alone might’ve been enough to bring John back. As if by the sheer force of her grief the news would’ve been undone. He was her love, her husband-to-be, and he couldn’t be gone. Louis tried to hold her back, to calm her before she hurt someone or herself, but, in her hysteria, she was too strong, too wild. After whirling about, unable to look through her puffy eyes at the photographs on the wall, she tumbled out of the house onto the rain-kissed lawn in the middle of the night. As if she were desperate for a breath of fresh air, for a reprieve from the suffocating sorrow she felt trapped in. He watched her go, dissolved in the kind of despair that can take one's mind prisoner and never give it back. Her wailing carried in the damp air, freezing him in place. It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope.

She sank to her knees in the middle of the backyard, not caring for the damp mud or wet grass that dirtied her clothing, staining it brown and green. The skin of her hands became stained with the same colors as she tore the grass from the earth and clawed through the dirt, as if trying to dig a hole for herself. Her tears mingled with the rain and her gasping wails echoed around the neighborhood. The pain that flowed from her was as palpable as the frigid fall wind and soon the only person at her side was Louis. He placed his hands on her shoulders. That’s all he could do. She struggled to keep her tears silent as she took shaky breaths and looked up to the watery skies. There were no stars that she could see that night. But she had to believe they were still there, somewhere just beyond her human perception, still twinkling in the soft darkness of nothing, in all of its shadowed velvet embrace. She had to believe heaven was just beyond that darkness. She had to believe John was safe up there, comfortable and warm. To look down at the earth would be to imagine him lying cold in a box, bereft of her cuddles and goodnight kisses. So she kept her head up.

Louis had to take her back inside before she caught her death of cold. She fought him, accused him of having done something to get John killed on purpose, motivated by possessiveness or jealousy. She called him many vile things he didn’t care to repeat, including a murderer.

“Never mind the epithets. You don’t have to swear at me to get rid of me.”

“I never want to see you again. Never, never as long as I live! Get out of here! Get out, get out, get out!”

“I’ll get out.”

He gave her the benefit of the doubt and pretended that she didn’t understand the full weight of what she was saying and didn’t actually mean it. He brushed it off as her just needing an outlet, something or someone she could vent to and take all her volatile emotions out on whenever she was feeling overwhelmed. If it had to be him, so be it. It wasn’t the first time she had an outburst like that. Ever since she learned of John’s death, it was a recurring behavior she exhibited. He summoned doctors, did everything they instructed him to do to help her whenever she had an episode. But no matter how bad things became, he’d never send her away. It was out of the question. No matter how many doctors or specialists recommended or suggested it, he’d never even entertain the thought. He’d never put her in an asylum. Maybe a sanitarium would’ve done her some good, but she never would’ve gone willingly, and he’d never deprive her of her autonomy by sending her someplace unfamiliar without her consent.

She belonged at home, so home was where she stayed. She wasn’t crazy. The war made her lonely, depressed, and traumatized, and her pregnancy only exacerbated her psyche. Even if he swore up and down John’s death was an accident, that it was the tragic outcome of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that he did everything he could to try to save him, it wouldn’t have changed anything. He knew what she felt and what she thought every single day as her pregnancy progressed, even without her saying a word to him. And it was that it should’ve been John holding her hand as she pushed and brought her child into the world. Not him. Not Louis.

She gave birth to a son, also named John. She loved her son. She really did. She loved him more than life itself. But, less than a month after she gave birth, she refused to hold or nurse the baby. She told Louis to take John Jr. away from her before she did something she’d regret. They could get a wet nurse to feed him until he was weened. She couldn’t do it anymore. She wasn’t ready to be a mother. She was afraid of herself. She didn’t know why, but she suddenly had these horrible thoughts about hurting or killing the baby. They wouldn’t go away, even when she shut her eyes to go to sleep. She’d never ever do anything to hurt John Jr. if she was in her right mind. But she wasn’t in her right mind and she didn’t trust herself to be near her son. She went up and down, down and up. She wanted her mind to be quiet, to give her some semblance of peace and normalcy, but it wouldn’t.

She was so unpredictable at times that Louis kept a close eye on her just to be on the safe side. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to believe that she would never do anything to harm either the baby or herself, but he couldn’t be too careful. Although it was extremely difficult and painful, he did as she asked. He kept the boy away from his mother. Doctors who examined her said she was suffering from “puerperal insanity,” a condition with an unknown cause. They could only theorize that her moods fluctuated throughout her pregnancy constantly and now that the baby was no longer in her womb, her hormones were causing her emotions to go haywire to overcompensate for the emptiness within her body. She’d likely experience random spikes and drops in mood until her hormone levels normalized, and the doctors had no accurate way of knowing when exactly that would be. It could be weeks or, more likely, months. They prescribed her some medications. They helped, but they weren’t a miracle cure.

Louis was all too familiar with walking along the road to recovery. It was a long road ahead. And the road to mental recovery was much, much, much longer than physical recovery. She walked along that road. When he was on it, he never walked alone. He walked with you. He walked with Nurse Haydon. So he walked with Madeleine, went at her pace. Whenever she came to a fork in the road and was confused and didn’t know which way to take, he just put up a signpost that said, “Not that way. This way.”

Louis’ name was listed on the baby’s birth certificate as the father due to the presumption of legitimacy. Nobody but he and Madeleine knew that the boy wasn’t actually his. With John Sr. deceased, all they could do for him now was share custody of his son and raise him to the best of their ability. To make the situation more bearable, they told themselves it was what John would’ve wanted. They were brothers in arms, yes, but John had not only been part of Captain Renault’s regiment and under his command. He was his friend. And to Madeleine, John was so much more than her lover. He was her best friend, her soulmate, if such a thing existed. They each felt they owed it to him to put aside their hard feelings and do what was best for his child.

No matter what cruel or accusatory things people said behind their backs, Louis recognized and raised the boy as if he were his own. To him, he was his son in every sense of the word except blood. While he became disillusioned upon discovering Madeleine’s affair and the love he once had for her was long gone, he loved her son more than most things. Even if the boy didn’t resemble Louis at all, they’d make up convincing lies about how he took after a grandparent and would do anything else in their power to try to put a stop to the rumors. It worked…for a few months.

Near the end of the war in 1918, nurses and the rest of the world were suddenly faced with a large-scale flu epidemic. It was uncertain where the virus first emerged, but it quickly spread through western Europe and around the world— First in ports, then from city to city along main transportation routes. This epidemic was deadlier than the war itself and was responsible for a majority of the deaths involving nurses. During WWI, over two-hundred army nurses and thirty-six navy nurses died while in service. By the end of the war, nearly three-hundred Red Cross nurses had also lost their lives.

15 April 1919

More people are falling ill from this sickness and even more have died. I heard that many of the people who left France have since formed a new community space elsewhere to quarantine, hopeful that they’re a safe distance away and won’t get touched by the virus. I have my doubts. I hate to be so pessimistic, but I believe it has spread to the point where nowhere is truly safe. To believe otherwise would be to hang onto false hope. I can understand why they would choose to do so. I hung onto false hope once, and it kept me going for a time. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have survived as long as I did. I probably wouldn’t have survived at all. But I didn’t realize until it was too late that it only blinded me to the truth, prevented me from seeing what was right in front of me all along. It caused me much more grief in the end. Once the beautiful dream was shattered, dying greatly appealed to me. It would’ve been a much more bearable sensation than what I felt in that moment. But you saved me, sweetheart, by showing me how I could save myself. I imagine that, despite the epidemic, you’ve chosen to stay behind to care for the sick and the wounded out of a sense of duty and responsibility to save others like you saved me. You never struck me as one to show fear in the line of duty, even when faced with the risks of infection or death itself. I remember how you told me that if you were to die so that others may live, it was a sacrifice you were ready and willing to make.

I commend your courage, my darling, but please, do everything you can to keep yourself safe. I’ve seen the mortality reports. So many nurses have already lost their lives. Too many. I watch the news closely, hoping your name will never come up amongst the deceased. I don’t know what I would do if you were one of them. While I wish I could be by your side now, I have people here who need me. All I can do for you is send you letters and hope that they reach you. I hope that, wherever you are, you’re not under a quarantine that would prevent my words from reaching you. I eagerly await your reply. Please, write to me as soon as you can so I know you’re alive and well. I fear I’ll go mad with anxiety if I don’t hear from you soon.

Louis xxx

Tragedy struck when Madeleine had taken ill during the Great Influenza epidemic in 1919. John Jr., whom Louis lovingly called Johnny, was still only a baby by that point and at high risk of contracting the disease from his mother. Both she and Louis were afraid that she’d infect the very young boy. Inoculation was particularly successful in preventing flu and greatly reduced the number of casualties so, in an attempt to protect him from the epidemic, Louis kept himself and Johnny away from Madeleine upon her request. They agreed that keeping the boy away was for his own good. Nobody saw her except doctors and nurses.

Despite the best efforts of medical personnel, her malady only worsened, presumably exacerbated by her grief and desire to be reunited with John. Ever since his death, she kept a piece of him in a box under her bed along with his unfinished letter to her. The fires of the crematorium had taken John beyond her mortal touch yet the fabric remained, a faded brown jacket of no importance to anyone but her. It wasn’t the jacket from his military uniform. That one had been cut by the doctors when they attempted to save him. This jacket was one he used to wear often in the winter. In his will, he left it to Louis. It would’ve fit him; he and John were roughly the same size, the same build. But Madeleine refused to part with it ever since she found it in that cardboard box his family dropped off. It smelled like him. And even after his familiar scent dissipated, she still wrapped herself in it, its fleece lining offering her warmth and comfort that John couldn’t anymore. It protected her from her bad thoughts. It kept her nightmares at bay. Ever since she received that jacket, she never once thought about John’s blood spreading through his military jacket, staining it an even darker shade of brown not dissimilar to the coffee she used to make him in the mornings.

When she heard the news of John’s death, death was all she thought about. She experienced suicidal ideation as she obsessively thought about her own death. Humans are so…so alone in the end. To die…it must be horrible. To be separated from the one you love, to walk all the way to the unknown, alone. John, Louis, all those men who fought in the war had more courage in their smallest finger than she did in her entire body…even the worst ones. She couldn't do it, she couldn't die. Not while a vestige of John was growing inside her. That little life still needed her. As she laid dying in her sickbed, she no longer thought of death. It was bitterly ironic, wasn’t it? It was difficult for the mortuary workers to remove the jacket from her grasp as rigor mortis set in, but they managed. Louis requested that she was buried with that article of clothing. Honoring his request, the funeral director had it neatly folded and placed in her casket at her feet. Just before the casket was closed, he asked for a few moments alone with her. He said his goodbyes and placed John’s final letter to her in the folds of his brown jacket so nobody would see it. Had he been able to stay by her bedside to hear it, Louis believed it would’ve been her dying wish to be buried with those mementos of John. Her heart always belonged to him. Louis hoped they were together, that they were free to love each other in death as they did in life, unburdened by the limitations of existence.

27 April 1919

I buried Madeleine today. I didn’t bring Johnny to the funeral. He’s so little and I didn’t want him exposed to all that mess. He was looked after by a neighbor while services for his mother were held. Of dry faces, there were none. The funeral was sweet sorrow. In the sorrow of death was the proof of love, of the bonds that existed beyond our reality, beyond the spacetime, matter and energy that made our world real. While everyone in attendance bore expressions of raw pain and silent anguish, myself included, the funeral was, above all, a celebration of her life and accomplishments. Memories about her were shared, stories about her were told, a few kind words about her were said, until the casket was finally lowered into the ground. The mourners departed soon after that. They offered me handshakes, half-hugs and pats on the shoulder, but none of them wanted to stay too long after they gave their condolences. Even the clergyman had gone. I couldn’t blame them. Death is a tragedy in the young and a right of passage for the old and so bring different kinds of mourning. Though it’s so intimately a part of life, death often makes people uncomfortable. While death is interwoven into every aspect of the human experience, it’s within our human nature to distance ourselves from it. I don’t know why, but I lingered. It was just me, the gravediggers, and her.

It rained the day before. Under my boots the squelch of the mud beneath the wet grass was as noisy as the static in my head. The grief surged with every expelled breath, always reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed by my long intakes of the damp spring air. Tears began to spill from my eyes onto the newly growing grass. She laid in the earth right in front of me and, as I watched shovels of dirt being placed over her, all I could think was, “I won’t return to a home where she both is and isn’t. I can’t. Though her body won’t be there, her presence will be inescapable. Her memory will cast its shadow over the entire house, permeating every wall of every room and the land immediately surrounding it. It’s not my house anymore. It’s hers. It always has been. It always will be.” I’m so sorry if my words frighten you, my darling. To be honest, they frighten me too. But I’ll be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Please, write to me and tell me of something happy. Something that made you smile or laugh. I could use some good news right about now. I love you for forever and always.

Louis xxxx

3 May 1919

I’ve not yet had the courage to return to the house I once called home just yet, so Johnny and I have been living in a nice little apartment for now. It’s not much, but it’ll be enough for just the two of us until I can find something better. I know you’ll admonish me for it but, in the days following Madeleine’s funeral, I was so focused on looking after him that I neglected to take care of myself. I was able to uphold a routine of feeding, bathing, and dressing him, but I failed to remember to shower or make food for myself. I was running on autopilot. But this morning it suddenly hit me all at once, like the gravity of my situation finally set in. Before I sat down to pen you this letter, I took time for myself to get cleaned up, eat something, and just sit in silence and process everything that happened in the last few days. My ex-wife is dead. My friend is dead. John and Madeleine’s families can never know about Johnny’s true parentage lest they become embroiled in scandal from which they’d never recover. There’s no other family to care for Johnny but me. For better or worse, I’m all he has left in the world - aside from my sister and her family, of course. Poor little orphan. Those who are destined to live during times of war and social upheaval are victims of a cruel fate— unable to find comfort in the past or peace in the present. They are the spiritual orphans of the world. He’s still napping, but he’ll be waking up and demanding his breakfast soon. I envy him. He doesn’t know a thing about any of it.

Louis xx

Initially, despite the loss of Madeleine, Louis enjoyed a happy life following his discharge, hanging out with his military colleagues and enjoying social activities. Eventually, however, his life began a downward spiral. As the years passed and peoples minds cleared, some of Louis’ fellow comrades, in particular friends to the deceased, began to suspect that Stevenson’s death was no accident. Whispers began to spread amongst the war veterans, which turned to rumors, then speculation and eventually quiet suspicion. Especially as Johnny grew older and started to resemble John more and more. Such brave men in the battlefield became such cowards outside of it. None of them had the courage to ever confront Louis directly, nor did they have the courage to understand the difference between honorable self-sacrifice and murder. They saw only what they wanted to see. Ultimately, even though they had no proof of guilt, Louis’ reputation was ruined. Realizing what his fellow soldiers were thinking, he stopped attending the military reunions and, after noticing the strange looks that his neighbors were giving him, became less and less sociable. Madeleine and John were dead, yet they continued to influence everything and everyone around them.

Nurse Haydon was only partially correct when she said Louis’ hearing loss was temporary and would return. His hearing did return, but not to the normal she had described. When Louis got a second opinion from an otolaryngologist, it only confirmed for him what he already suspected. He suffered permanent damage in one of his ears from the artillery shell blast and, as a result, became partially deaf in one ear. He had to adapt and grow accustomed to his new normal. Despite this, he heard every word of what was said about him. There was a silver lining in that, based on how well he was able to listen and respond to people while engaged in conversation, nobody would ever know he had hearing loss. But even if people believed he couldn’t hear them, Johnny had ears too. Louis didn’t want any malicious gossip coming back around and reaching his son. He feared that, at his age, the impressionable boy would be taken advantage of and fed lies, bullied, harassed, or otherwise the target of revenge by proxy and punished for the sins of his adoptive father.

7 July 1919

Ever since Madeleine first fell ill, I’ve done a lot of thinking about the worst case scenario and what to do next in the event that she didn’t pull through. Retaining custody and raising her son wasn’t a possibility I took lightly. I considered my options and weighed the pros and cons of him having me, of all people, as a father. I thought about how growing up without a mother might impact him. I thought about a lot of what ifs. I did the same when I considered adoption or temporary guardianship. Now that the funeral is over, I’ve tried to think day in and day out of what would be best for her son, regardless of my own feelings. But my feelings kept getting in the way. I’ve finally come to a decision. I don’t have the heart to give him up or be separated from him forever, but I can’t leave him alone in an apartment or dump him onto the neighbors unannounced while I’m getting my affairs in order. The best thing I can do for him is place him into temporary guardianship with my sister. She and her husband have children of their own and she’s someone I can trust. They’ve agreed to look after Johnny, at least until I can find a house and a job and am ready to resume parenting.

While my life has taken some unexpected twists and turns, I believe that, in time, I’ll be ready to step up and act as a proper father to little Johnny. I’ll send you snaps of Johnny and I together soon. I won’t have him for a while, so I’d better take as many of him while I still can. He’s a handsome little devil. In all the time we’ve known each other, darling, I never once thought I’d have to compete for your love and affections. But when you see his handsome face with his chubby little cheeks, bright eyes, and even brighter smile, I fear he’ll steal your heart right out from under me. Sweet dreams, my darling. And all my love.

Louis xxxx

17 July 1919

Oh, my God. Oh, my... Darling, I can’t keep you safe from the epidemic. In this matter I’m powerless. To lose my friend, my wife, and my son… Must I lose you, too? I don’t know if I can survive it again. My dear, in such a short time I’ve already buried two people that I loved. I can’t go back there. Not again. Your death would destroy me. I fear I wouldn’t be able to survive it. You can’t— You can’t leave me. If I lose you, I'll have nothing. I'll have nothing. Please, don’t go where I can’t follow. If that were to ever happen, I fear I would do something terribly drastic and irreversible in my desperation to be with you. Dear God, What am I saying? I must be going half-mad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean any of that. Ever since I sent Johnny away, the loneliness has been getting to me. I get sent pictures of him and letters from my sister occasionally, but— It’s just—

It’s so much harder than I thought it’d be. None of the attendees at the funeral saw me when I was laid up in hospital and first learned of her infidelity. They didn’t see how broken I was in mind, body, and spirit. But you did. Your mere presence served as a balm to many of the injured and dying, especially me. You put me back together again, piece by misshapen piece. When I thought I’d never recover from her betrayal, you... You took me through the worst of my grief, and I came out a better man because of it. You helped me pull myself out of a dark place then, and I believe you’ll do so again.

Your missives of encouragement will give me the motivation I need to keep going. Your sweet words will guide me home, wherever that may be. I promise I’ll take better care of myself as long as you promise me you’ll do the same. Please, look after yourself, my dear. Take a break and don’t feel an ounce of shame or guilt about it. I’d so hate for you to overwork yourself and make yourself sick. I love you and am thinking of you always.

Louis xxxxx

8 August 1919

I’ve been busying myself by cleaning out the old house and getting it ready to put on the market. How does that saying go? Don’t put off till tomorrow what can be done today. Well, I kept putting it off. I kept telling myself tomorrow, tomorrow for sure, but tomorrows kept coming and passing me by and still I didn’t lift a finger inside that house. I didn’t even turn the key in the lock! Now I have more work to do than I would’ve if I just mustered up the courage to go inside and sorted through everything within the month after she died. There’s so much to donate, so much to clean… It’s my own fault. I kept chickening out at the last minute. But It’s served me well as a daytime distraction…until night comes and it’s time for me to lay down and sleep. I’m once again alone with my thoughts and have to fight to keep them and my nightmares at bay. Sleeping in our once shared bedroom feels inappropriate, so I’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom or on the couch. But I still toss and turn as I try to think of something else. Anything else. Ever since Madeleine’s passing, I’ve sometimes felt as if she were looking through the wall at me. I know it's absurd, but I feel as if I’ll never be free from her so long as I’m here. When I write, she never takes her eyes from my hands, and when I call on the telephone, she never takes her eyes from my lips.

Tonight it was even worse, as if she were threatening. She’ll haunt my thoughts like a restless spirit if I don’t leave. I’ll sleep tonight with your picture by my pillow, as I’ve done every night. Your face always helps ward off the ghosts. All I can do for her now is leave her to Rest In Peace. Once I find a house, I’ll pack up all of my and Johnny’s things and finally take him back. Never again will I step back into this haunted house. These next few weeks will be unpredictable. I might not be able to write you again for some time. But please, don’t let my silence discourage you from writing to me. Although I may not have time to answer your letters in the foreseeable future, I’ll read every single one of them. I’ll keep you posted and give you an update as soon as I’m able. I promise. I love you.

Your Louis xxxx

21 November 1919

My dearest, please forgive me for my letters being sparse as of late. Though I had given you notice beforehand and you were aware that this would happen, I can’t even begin to imagine how much my silence must’ve worried you the longer it went on. I’m sorry for whatever stress or anxiety I’ve put you through. But I can explain. So much happened in these last three months that I found little time to write. My days became sacrosanct and, by nightfall, I was too exhausted to even pick up my pen. My eyes were so bleary with exhaustion that I couldn’t see the blank page clearly in front of me, and my eyes wouldn’t refocus no matter how much I blinked. After many weeks of living in a hectic world, everything has finally calmed down now and I can tell you all the marvelous news, darling! I found a house and I’m settled in. While not everything is unpacked yet, I’ve just about finished. I’ve spent these last weeks doing nothing but finalizing details and counting down to the day when I could finally sit down to write to you.

Even better, I have Johnny back with me. I missed him so much. Words can’t convey just how much. Four months felt like forever. Now that I have him back, I don’t plan on letting him out of my sight. Though it’ll take him time to adjust to the change, he’s already developed an insatiable curiosity. He’s already exploring and I’ve taken the necessary precautions of baby-proofing the house, including blocking off the stairs. He’s tuckered himself out, so I put him down for a nap. I must take advantage of this time to write a much longer letter to you. Though it won’t make up for my long silence, it’s a start.

Being a father is absolutely terrifying. I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time or if I’m doing anything correctly. It’s strange how easy it comes, isn't it? Worrying. I don’t think it’ll ever go away. Not so long as I love him. And I love him so very much. I enjoy his company and hope that, as he grows older, our bond will be just as strong. The neighbors, especially the older ladies with grandchildren, have been nice enough to show me what to do and how to do it. They’re all too eager to help me and I’m so grateful. Though I don’t wear my wedding ring anymore, they believe me to be a widower whose wife died from the flu or childbirth. I don’t have the heart to correct them on a technicality. Nobody knows us. Nobody knows John Stevenson.

This is a new environment. Johnny will have the chance to pave his future here without the encumbrance of his father’s memory following him like a terrible ghost. I feel it will be better for him to have a clean slate rather than grow up where he would be constantly reminded that he’s the adoptive son of an “alleged murderer”. If we had stayed, John’s shadow would’ve loomed over him, darkening his every step, his every action, his every breath. Our old neighbors, John’s friends… They would’ve never let Johnny be his own person, with his own thoughts, interests, and talents. They’d take one look at him and only see John, his father. They’d hold him up to some impossible standard, unfairly subject him to competing with his father’s corpse, pressure him into being a carbon copy of the John they once knew.

As Johnny grows, I can see more and more of his father in him. He’s like John in so many ways. He has his eyes, he has his nice hands… but I don’t resent him for it. Quite the opposite. I hope he has his heart. Oh, it was a very good heart. A tender heart to be in such a rugged body. I just know what the people from our old church would say if we hadn’t left. They would say that he can thank God if he grows up to be like him but, while I’m proud that there’s a vestige of John that still lives, he’ll always be Johnny to me. Not John Jr. Just Johnny. He’s more than just his father’s son, and I want him to grow up knowing that. While John’s body returned to the soil, his spirit will watch over us and live in our hearts. It will bring sadness as we transform to this new way of connecting, yet this is part of living.

When you receive letters from me that are so brief they only take up a page or less, you can safely assume it’s because I was distracted or otherwise preoccupied with looking after a very active little boy who’s grown bored with crawling and now has to climb almost everything he sees. I can’t turn my back or my eyes away for a second. I’m always watching him, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself or get into something he isn’t supposed to. All my love.

Louis xxxxx

However, despite the change of scenery, during this period of his life, Louis became little more than a recluse who only left his house to go shopping, attend church, and take his son to school or friends’ houses and pick him up hours later or the next day. His life was nearly dominated by his guilt, not because of the rumors or speculation, but out of genuine remorse and regret over what he did or didn’t do. He often wrote to you that he believed it was his fault. It was his fault they were dead. Madeleine and John. He killed his family. He often thought about what ifs. If he’d done something a little bit differently, then maybe John would still be alive and…

You could tell he was heading down a slippery slope of self-hatred and you had to do something to snap him out of it before he succumbed to his survivor’s guilt. You had to help him realize that human memory was often unreliable, with or without the head trauma he suffered while in service, and that, no matter what happened in the past, he couldn’t let it consume him and suck everything out of him until there was nothing left but a despondent shell.

Due to what you called a family emergency, you had to quit your job and return home rather abruptly. Something happened in 1917. Something changed. Louis wasn’t sure what it was. During this period, you went radio silent and didn’t even have the chance to warn Louis of it beforehand. Your letters just stopped coming one day. His letters to you suddenly went unanswered or were returned to sender, and he didn’t know why. Did you move and live under a different address? Did you find someone else? Did you die? He couldn’t bear to think about it. You never called or sent a telegram or cable, nothing. There was no correspondence from you whatsoever for nearly an entire year. It was very out of character for you, assuming you were still alive. God, he missed you. He missed you terribly.

Eventually you returned to working as a nurse and you and Louis rekindled your romance as you resumed writing to each other in 1918. When he received that first envelope with your name on it, he opened it so fast he nearly sliced his hand open with the letter opener. In your first letter to him after you all but dropped off the face of the earth, he was expecting an apology and an explanation for your disappearance at the very least. It was with an unsteady hand that he slowly unfolded the sheet of paper and he realized then that he was afraid. Afraid that this letter would change everything. He began to read through its contents and… There was an apology, but no explanation. Your letter was brief as you told him that you were sorry for causing him to worry. You told him that “it” was over, but you weren’t ready to talk about “it” just yet. He didn’t know what you were referring to and, when he wrote back to you and asked for clarification, all you could tell him in your next letter was that “it” had nothing to do with him and didn’t refer to your relationship, but “it” was “a very bad thing”.

Your response confused him even more, but it was a good enough answer for him. It had to be, because that was the most he was going to get out of you. If he kept pushing, he would’ve only succeeded in pushing you away. He didn’t want you to retreat and close yourself off from him, so he changed the subject and never brought it up again. Whatever it was, you obviously weren’t in the right mental or emotional headspace to talk about it with anyone. But you promised he’d not just be the first person, he’d be the only person you’d tell, just as soon as you were ready. It was about five years later when that day finally came.

18 October 1923

That inner critic is a bit loud today, huh? It wants to save you from making mistakes but it's creating anxiety, doubt, and misplaced shame and guilt. I think you need a dose of self-compassion. Be as sweet to yourself as you are to others. Being kind should radiate inwards as well as into the world beyond. As a nurse, it’s my duty to see to the well-being of my patients. And that includes you, my dearest. You just tell me whenever you’re feeling glum or thinking such terrible thoughts, and I’ll prescribe you as many sweet words of affirmation as you need until you’re feeling better. You may believe yourself to be a monster, but the voice in your head that’s telling you such things is lying to you. It often comes out at the worst of times, when a person is at their most vulnerable. It gets especially loud during the changing of the seasons. When summer turns to autumn to welcome in the winter months, I’ve noticed a shift in the moods of patients. They too experience what you’re experiencing, and I promise that I’ll do everything I can to help you drown out that deceptive voice in your head.

If you still don’t believe me, let me tell you a story. When I was a young girl, I knew bad men. These men were the sweetest of men within our community, always ready to lend a hand and always quick with a joke, often followed by a generous laugh. Their words were to our ears what frosted cake was to our tongues. They were every wish come true that we never knew we should wish for. But if any of us had looked closer, maybe we would’ve seen how these men pulled back their lips and smiled through gritted teeth. These men were monsters in human flesh that only revealed their true nature behind closed doors. They fooled everyone around them. Every neighbor, every party guest. One of them even fooled me into marriage.

I knew Frederick Lannington since childhood. He was a friend and business partner of my father, closer to his age than my own. He was an American, though he owned properties all over America and Europe. Father was the last family I had left and, after he died, I thought I’d never recover from his death. But Frederick... He took me through the worst of my grief. He was a calculated distraction. If only I realized then how well-calculated it was…

“I'd like you to see my house. I think it will please you.”

“There can't be a place like it for one hundred miles.”

“One thousand. It's all been assembled with great care. There's only one thing that I've wanted that I've been waiting for for a long time, because I'm a perfectionist.” He kissed your hand.

“Nothing of value is gained easily,” you teased, before your eyes were caught by a beautiful vase, a true work of art. “How beautiful.”

“Isn't it? It needs a woman of your taste to appreciate its magnificent beauty. Here, look. Server, 1782. There are only two others like it in the whole world.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Note the perfection of the enameling.”

“How lovely.”

“I had to wait for it for seven years. The man who presented it in Paris was a fool who let himself be outbid by a Frenchman.”

“But you were stubborn.”

“Yes, I waited. Finally, I learned through a contact at the French Sûreté that the sister of the owner was seized in Germany. It would take all his money and more to get the old lady out. So I made my bid.”

“And he had to accept.”

“It was a bargain.” He kissed the side of your face, but you pulled away and walked around, your eyes taking in the beauty around you. He followed you and stood so close that he nearly pinned your body to the wall behind you, his chest nearly pressed up against you.

“I never saw such a collection.”

“All my life I've believed that if you were willing to take the time and energy, you could have anything you desired. All my life I have sought perfection.”

“It seems perfect.”

“Now it is perfect.” He leaned in and, though a part of you was apprehensive, you let him kiss you. But you didn’t let him do anything more than that. When he kissed you, there was no spark. There was nothing. You felt nothing.

He proposed to me when I was only seventeen years old. He got me alone while I was at a party with some friends. A friend and I went outside to enjoy the fresh air. We were animatedly engaged in chitchat, and I was too busy catching up with her to notice anyone else around me since I hadn’t seen her in a long time. Then Frederick approached me and interrupted our conversation.

“Dear, may I have a few minutes with you?”

“I'm sorry, but I'm busy.”

“Please. It's important.”

“Oh, very well.” You turned toward your friend with an apologetic smile and promised you’d find her later to resume your conversation. “I'll have to claim you a little later.” You walked away with Frederick, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted that was so important that he had to drag you away from your friend. “Well?”

“I asked you out here to...to explain about last night.”

“It seemed quite clear to me.”

“Dear.” He held your arm, but you pried it off of you.

“I'm afraid I have a bit of a headache for this sort of thing.”

“There was no such thing intended.”

“Sorry, I misunderstood. Now shall we go inside?”

“Please. Darling.” He grabbed you by the arms to stop you from moving away. “Why do you think I wanted you to see my home last night? Why do you think I asked you to come out here now? From the moment I saw you again for the first time after so many summers apart, I knew I'd met the one woman that I wanted to be my wife. They call me a great man. It’s the loneliest animal in the world. I need you extremely badly, my dear.” He buried his face in your hair, kissing the back of your head.

You pulled away. “I'm afraid the answer is no.”

“Why? Because of my manners?”

“They have been perfect.”

“Well, isn't my house as fine as those you are used to?”

“Far better.”

“What is it then?”

“Oh, Frederick, I’m not fashionable enough for you. You need someone who’s elegant and refined.”

“I want you. What is it, really?”

“Well, it's just that I'm not attracted to you.”

“What's wrong with me?” He suddenly tightened his grip on you, nearly hurting you. His demeanor changed so quickly and so suddenly that it frightened you.

“Let me go.”

“Answer me.” He grabbed your face to forcibly turn your head and kissed you, as if his kiss alone could sway you to give him the answer he desired. You pulled away and he kissed your forehead, suddenly remorseful of his previous actions. He didn’t mean to be so harsh with you.

He apologized for behaving very badly and swore to me that it’d never happen again. He gave me time and space to think about his offer, and I mistook this as him respecting me, giving me a choice. I was left to fend for myself when it came to making decisions, good or bad. I was so young and naive with no one left in the world to guide me, and I foolishly believed him and forgave him. I came around to him and, in 1906, I married him. I was a bride at only seventeen years old and my bridegroom was fifty-two. Once the ink was dried on our marriage license, all the promises he made to me died on the wind.

People think he left me for some woman in Arizona. That we separated after I learned of his infidelity. But that's not the truth. Frederick regularly entertained and, when we returned from our honeymoon, at the begging of the neighbors who loved the previous ones, Frederick decided we’d host a fancy ball in my honor.

“The Lannington ball always was the show of the year. Top dog.”

“Grand site, the mansion all lit up. I love fireworks.”

“It does sound a little daunting.” Your voice was laced with the uncertainty and doubt of a new bride. You were still trying to find your place in the world and, after you married, you felt like an outsider in the world your husband belonged to. Everything was so different and new from what you knew and grew up with, and you were suddenly tossed into the middle of it without any warning or preparation.

“Oh, you’ll carry it off.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything alarming. Just receive the guests and dance the night away.”

“Yes, my God. Whole county getting drunk and making fools of themselves.” Frederick nodded his head sarcastically as he picked up his glass of wine.

“Frederick always groans and he always enjoys it in the end.”

“Do I?”

“That’s a yes!”

“I’d like to help organize.”

Frederick shook his head. “Oh, no no no. You leave all that to the servants. They know the form.”

“Quite right. Never volunteer, my dear. You just have fun.”

As the day of the ball approached, Frederick became more and more stressed. And he took that stress out on me. He noticed my hands were stained. I still had small spots of charcoal or ink on them. He wasn’t pleased. Back in those days, women were discouraged from writing because it would ultimately create an identity and become a form of defiance. I realized that writing became one of the only forms of existence for women at a time when they had very few rights.

“What's that? Writing again! What about your duties?”

You, confused, looked down at your hands and wrung them together. You didn’t dare wipe them on your dress as you knew doing so would provoke your husband’s ire even more. “I... I finished them.”

“Oh, really? Did you tell the servants to make the beds? Sweep the floors? Weed the garden?”

“Yes.”

“Beat the rugs? Wax the table? Polish the silver?

“Yes, dear.”

“Wash and mend my clothes?”

“Hilda folded and put them away.”

Frederick turned and went up the grand staircase, but stopped halfway when one of the treads squeaked offensively loudly, the sound grating on his ears. He turned towards you. “Listen to that. You're supposed to keep the house in perfect order.” 
“But I didn't know about—”
“It's your job to know!” He went up the stairs and didn’t even glance back at you as he said, “I've taken care of you since your father died, and this is how you thank me? By frittering away your time, writing? This is atrocious.“

We were married for about five months when the evening of the party arrived. It took so many weeks of planning and, in between it all, Frederick either couldn’t or wouldn’t stop working. He was often called away, so it was hard setting a date that worked for the both of us. We wanted to celebrate our nuptials with our friends, some of whom couldn’t make it to the wedding. They were more Frederick’s friends than mine. I didn’t have very many friends to begin with, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let me invite any of them.

“I've asked a number of guests to dinner tonight at 7:30 to welcome you here.”

“Hilda told me you had. It's very nice of you, dear.”

“These people are very important friends and associates, and I won’t have you embarrassing me in front of them. I’ll be wearing my very best tonight. Diamond cufflinks and all that. I want you to do the same. Wear only what I had the maids set out for you in your bedroom.”

“But what if I've lost or gained weight since we saw each other last? Whatever new dress you bought for me, what if it won't fit?”

“Oh, don’t be stupid. It’ll fit. I've hired a seamstress for you. We can have all your dresses refitted to suit your new size if need be. I've asked her to stay late tonight, in case there may be any minor alterations necessary. I won’t have my wife caught dead wearing an ill-fitting dress.”

“You've thought of everything, haven't you, darling? If you'll excuse me—”

Ball guests arrived. They were milling about, the men in white tie, the women in long dresses and long silk gloves. The unmarried ladies were all dressed in virginal white, the bachelors in summer dinner jackets. Frederick was standing with me while I overlooked the party from the banister. The most important thing to remember was that I had to look impeccable at all times. My hair, my makeup…flawless all the time. Frederick got very upset if he saw people looking drab or unkempt or unmade up, so I had to look good at all times. Heels were a must. He didn’t want to catch me in Kedettes or, God forbid, sneakers. So heels had to be worn at all times.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he glanced me over, no doubt scrutinizing me, trying to find any microscopic flaw in my appearance so he could have an excuse to send me to my room. But there were none, so he said nothing. From my vantage point at the top of the stairs, I could see through to the drawing room. It was equally full as the foyer. People were moving in and out of the buffet where servants were serving champagne punch. Beyond the dining room, the terrace had a number of small tables laid out. There was the sound of loud chatter and music over the whole scene. The dancing was in full sway. An orchestra was playing a waltz. The older guests retired to the sidelines.

“It's a very nice party, isn't it?”

“Oh, yes, it's a wonderful party.”

“You’ve done it wonderfully well. I'm very proud. Shall we?” Frederick interlocked his arm with yours. With your arm laced around his elbow, he led you both down the stairs.

We nodded our greetings and shook hands with the guests that were standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for us. The hallway was thronged with the guests of the evening. Frederick left my side just for a moment to greet more guests but stayed close, standing only a few paces away from me. He was chatting to another man who was just leaving him. The front door was closed and the footman was still standing by. My face wore an expression of concealed anxiety as I looked furtively toward the front door, as if trying to will it to remain that way. Frederick came over to me and laced my arm with his. The great mansion blazed with light from every window. Frederick and I returned to the ballroom. The first dance was finishing. Gradually couples joined, including us. All the couples were talking as they were dancing, as they spun in the waltz, at the heart of the scene.

“Well, I think we might join the rest of the party now. I think all our guests are here.” As Frederick said these last words, he gave a glance toward you. Your face broke from its slight anxiety and you nodded acquiescence. He led you away into the main part of the hall and you were soon lost among the crowd.

The doorbell rang and the footman admitted a late-comer. His attitude was genial and breezy. He asked something of the footman, and the footman indicated the crowd in the main part of the hall. He got lost in the crowd, threading his way through the people, looking for me. I caught sight of him, and my face that once held concealed anxiety turned into restrained relief. My heart wanted my surprise guest to be there, but my brain wanted him gone as soon as possible.

It was Henri Freycinet, another friend of my family. I hadn’t seen him in years. We had been pen pals but, after he confessed that he loved me from the moment he met me, we were lovers for a time. Though our dalliance began in the autumn of 1905 and ended by the summer of 1906, shortly before Frederick proposed to me, we enjoyed our courtship immensely. As brief as it was. He wanted us to get married. We once spent three days and three nights sharing a hotel room, but our weekend in sin was just part of his plan to persuade me to accept.

“No. Henri. Henri, don’t. Henri. We have to talk about this reasonably.”

“I have loved you since the moment I clapped eyes on you. What could be more reasonable than to marry you?”

“We’d kill each other!”

“Nonsense!”

“Neither of us can keep our temper.”

“I can. Unless provoked.”

“We’re both stupidly stubborn. Especially you. We’d only quarrel.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“You can’t even propose without quarreling.”

“Mon cœur…” He kissed your forehead. “I swear I’ll be a saint. I’ll let you win every argument, take care of you. I’ll give you every luxury you’ve ever been denied. You won’t have to work. Unless you want to. Father wants me to learn how to fly, in England. Can’t you see us flying over London?” He took your face in his hands and kissed you.

But I refused his proposal. I said no because, when it came to it, he wasn't right. At least, not for me. We wanted different things.

“Henri, please don’t ask me again.”

He slowly lowered his hands from your face and turned away from you. He picked at the skin of his palms. He didn’t say anything at first, but he didn’t push you away when you tried to hold his hand and hug him from the side either.

“I’m desperately sorry. I do care for you with all of my heart. You’re my dearest friend. I just can’t go be a wife.”

“You say you won’t, but you will.”

“I won’t, I won’t!”

“One day, you’ll meet some man. A good man. And you will love him tremendously. And you will live and die for him.”

“Henri, please—”

“You will. I know you. If only I could be a fly on the wall and watch such a love unfold before my very eyes... While I hoped against hope that I could convince you to change your mind and consent to be my wife, your refusal won’t make me think any less of you or stop me from loving you. There are many different forms of love, after all, none of them any less meaningful or valuable than the romantic variety. Thank you, my dearest friend, for loving me and making so many beautiful memories with me. I’ll always treasure the time we spent together and everything we shared. That’s what you’ll be to me from now on. Mon trésor. I hope we meet again.”

I wanted to spare him from having to read a Dear John letter, so we called it quits and parted as friends. Even after we amicably ended our calf love, he kept writing to me from England. I knew he was still in love with me, but I cherished him as a friend and confidant even more than I did when he was my lover. Last I heard, he had just recently acquired his pilot’s license and was now Captain Freycinet.

“Bonjour, mon trésor. Remember me?” He tried to kiss your hand, but you wouldn’t let him. You felt your husband’s eyes on the back of your head, so he was probably standing just a few paces behind you. You only outstretched your hand to allow Henri a firm and impersonal handshake in greeting. You were quick to pull away after your hands met for just a moment, as if his touch burned you.

“Why did you come here?”

“This week, mademoiselle, we offer one red rose with each year's subscription...to the aviation magazine.”

“Oh, no. Please, you've got to go.”

The maids were whispering and gossiping amongst each other as they went about the room serving the guests. They tried to keep their voices low and cover their mouths with their hands, but Frederick could still hear what they were saying as they stood giggling by a table and filled their serving trays with finger foods and drinks. It looked to them like you and the man were flirting.

“The Mistress’s friend is a very attractive man, isn't he?”

“I heard from Jimmy that he’s an old family friend of hers. If you ask me, I think he’s an old beau who’s come back to rekindle an old flame. If she doesn’t take him, I will!”

The maids quickly went back to their duties but smiled as they discreetly watched the dancing in the ballroom.

Frederick purposely ignored their reference to your uninvited and unwelcome guest, but hearing the word “mistress,” even used in proper context, made his eye twitch and his fists clench like a nervous tick. He turned away to greet a guest. “Madame Estorik - I'm so glad to see you. The party seems to be going off very well, doesn't it? I must say my wife has managed wonderfully.”

By the way Frederick gave a half glance back again, I could see that he was doing everything in his power to maintain his composure. He was so tense that I worried he’d squeeze the wine glass he was holding until it shattered to pieces in his hand. His face was expressionless, the perfect mask of impassivity. But the look in his eyes only added to my uneasiness about him, as if he was warning me through his eyes alone not to test his patience. His attention had been distracted for a moment by two other guests, but not for long. He turned in our direction, his attention now fully on Henri as he followed our meeting.

There was a look of ungovernabie fury on Frederick’s face. He turned and moved toward the French doors. He started shoving his way through the dancers, blind to their presence, jostling one young couple. Hands were applauding wildly, the sound of the palms meeting was magnified, almost immediately augmented by the sound of many other hands clapping. The effect was a nightmare rather than realistic, the crowded dance floor and the guests applauding the end of a number. The party was clearly approaching its climax. The young people on the floor continued to clap, their applause rapidly being transformed into a demand for more music. The bandleader shook his head, half bemused, half anxious. Then, shrugging helplessly, he grinned, turned to his band and, as if suddenly caught up in the young people’s wild enthusiasm, led them into an impossibly fast Charleston. Some of the older guests seated at the edge of the room viewed the proceedings with increasing bewildermant and a little apprehension. That rug, that stupid old filthy rug, had seen more dancing shoes than a ballroom. It was where we all twirled, everyone with everyone, the music escaping from every open window and door.

“Well, my dear... I see you have a guest even more special than our other special guests. Come in, sir, come in. We mustn’t lurk in doorways. It’s rude.” Frederick’s voice and demeanor was cordial as he and Henri shook hands. “Any friend of hers is welcome.”

“Thank you. It was nice of her to invite me. I must apologize for arriving late.”

Frederick knew for a fact that you hadn’t, because he put himself in charge of making the guest list and sending the invitations out. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “We both invite you.”

“Please leave. Please leave.” Your quiet pleas went either unheard or ignored.

Frederick put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. To anyone else, it would appear as a loving gesture. To you, it was a warning not to do anything stupid. “Don't be so inhospitable, my dear. As host and hostess, we must see that all our guests are fed…and amused.” He shook you in a way that seemed playful, then turned his attention back to the much younger man. “We’re pleased you are here. Did she tell you that we're flying East tonight?”

“That's why I'm here.”

“Indeed. We're to have the pleasure of your company?”

“No. I don't know how to say this, and I hope you understand, but you're not going to have the pleasure of your niece’s company either.”

Frederick paused, his eyes glancing off to the side questioningly. “We'll explore that remark over a drink. Come along. Won't you sit down?” He took your close friend and former lover by the elbow and walked with him over to the tables where there was food and drinks. “The wine is to the left. Highball? Or won't that mix with what you've had?”

Henri took a seat and made himself comfortable on one of the couches. “That'll be fine, thanks.”

“And where did you two meet? At the drugstore tonight?”

“Oh, no. We've been seeing each other every night.”

A lie. A blatant lie told to make himself look better in front of your husband, whom he mistook as your uncle. Henri only ever saw Frederick from afar or in passing, and he was always in your father’s company. The men were never properly introduced. They never actually met. It was an easy assumption to make. But you shuddered as you dreaded how such an assumption would cost him dearly. If you could’ve, you would’ve put your head in your hands in that moment. You wanted the floor to open up underneath you and swallow you whole.

“Seeing each other every night? Lovely. So you must be the young man.”

“Mr. Lannington, there's no sense beating around the bush. I'm in love with your niece.”

“That's quite apparent. Well, that's quite...romantic, Mister...” Frederick purposely trailed off, and Henri was foolish enough to take the bait and give him his full name, his real name.

“Captain. Captain Henri Freycinet.”

“A Captain? Uh...not a very substantial career, as yet?”

“Well, I think we can manage to get along without any help from you, if that's what you mean.”

“It is what I mean.” You tried to speak, but Frederick coldly interrupted your attempt at interrupting him. “Be quiet. Do you mind being not quite so demonstrative in my presence?“

“Mr. Lannington, I wanna marry your niece.”

“I wish you'd stop calling her my niece. She happens to be my wife.”

Henri instantly went white. “She's your wife?”

“Yes, Captain. Oh, I concede the conspicuous difference in our ages. She married me for my money. I married her for her youth. We both got what we wanted, after a fashion.”

Henri got up and stepped around you. Still holding his glass of highball in his hand, he finished the drink like a shot and leaned over slightly to put his empty glass on a table, which worried you.

“Where are you going?”

“I think I'll go out and get some fresh air.”

“Not without me.”

After he left, Frederick questioned you, his voice cold and calculated. Alone in the parlor with no witnesses, there wasn’t a need to put on airs anymore. The facade instantly dropped. “Does he bother you very much?”

“No, darling. He’s trying to drown his sorrows.”

“I don’t blame anyone for being in love with you, darling. I just hope that nothing will happen to give him any false impression.”

“Let me talk to him. I can convince him to leave and never come back. Just give me a chance. Please.” Your expression conveyed your desperation to get rid of your former lover and best friend before he got himself into more trouble, as well as veiled anxiety to get away from Frederick in that moment.

He stared at you for a minute, as if debating whether or not he could trust you. With a wave of his hand, he let you go. You didn’t waste a single second as you took advantage of the opportunity that he was giving you to clean up your mess yourself. You left in search of Henri. You knew that if you didn’t fix it in time, Frederick would.

Henri walked around the terrace, behaving quite casually and puffing away at his cigarette as though he had come out to enjoy the night air. Behind him was a faint impression of a glass door, faintly reflecting the moonlit garden. Suddenly a flood of light appeared from one of the side doors. As he straightened up and turned around, he approached the few steps leading to the side door, when you appeared and opened it, causing him to collide into you. Without a word you took him forcefully by the arm and dragged him inside, across to a corridor that led to the wine cellar, allowing him to pass through as you looked anxiously about you the entire time. You pointed to the back door at the end of the passage. He could leave quietly and discreetly through there without any of the other guests seeing him. You were struggling to keep it together, a disturbed and almost impatient figure as your hair raised from the back of your neck and chills raced down your spine. The more he dawdled and stubbornly refused to listen to you, the more time you were wasting. Soon it would run out, and you dreaded having to witness what would happen when it did.

“The fireworks are ready, sir. Timed perfectly to discharge directly after all the party guests are escorted outside.”

“Whatever you have planned is not good enough, Jimmy. Make them bigger, longer, brighter! Our guests must be captivated.” Frederick then gathered all the guests together within half an hour. The indistinct overlapping chatter quieted down as he grabbed their attention, everyone’s eyes turned towards him. “Everyone, outside. I have a surprise for you all! Just over there. The real celebrations will begin shortly.”

The fireworks were chaos and unpredictability, their explosive gifts finding their own time and space to own. As they did, the party guests were captivated spectators watching their blazing trails arc above. Frederick turned and looked across in the direction the two of you went. The party guests were too captivated by the popping of the bright colors lighting up the night sky to notice that their genial host slipped away. Frederick opened the side door leading to the wine cellar. As his silhouette darkened the doorway, your face held apprehension as you looked up. Words couldn’t even begin to express how disappointed he was in your failure to do something he thought was the most simplest of tasks. His short sigh filled you with dread. You knew the confrontation that he held over your head like a looming threat was now inevitable. A consequence of your actions. Or inaction, rather, depending on the point of view. From his point of view, it looked as though you and Henri were laughing. You insisted that your attitudes were casual, as though you were just enjoying some inconsequential joke. But while your physical attitudes were broad and gay, your voices were low and intent, which made Frederick all the more suspicious.

Some of the pages of your letter were blank, and Louis knew that you used invisible ink. A secret communication. He flicked open his lighter and used the flame to warm the blank pages, and hidden writing started to appear. It was a confession from you, meant for his eyes only. You loved Louis so very much. His happiness was the only thing you wanted in the whole world…but you did a bad thing to make certain of it. A very bad thing that you kept locked away in your heart for nearly five years.

Henri’s flirting with me, you know, a little buzzed. Then Frederick comes down to the wine cellar…

“I'm sorry to intrude on this…tender scene, but I saw you come this way.”

“Frederick, not here. We’ll talk alone.”

“You’re afraid to speak in front of him?”

“No. I couldn’t help what happened. He’s been drinking. Can't you see he's had too much to drink?” You protested, wanting this nightmarish scene to end.

“Yes, I can see it. He carried you down here?” His voice was laced with sarcasm and skepticism. It was a rhetorical question, and you knew that. He then turned his focus onto Henri. “Forgive me. My analytical mind again. You said something moments ago in the parlor that got me thinking. You’re still in love with my wife, you’ve made that point perfectly clear. So let me ask you one simple question: Is she in love with you?”

“Well, hasn't she told you?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She has not. She never even mentioned you.”

“Frederick, please!”

“You love him.”

“No. Absolutely— No. Not in the way you think. You're being foolish, Frederick. I came here because he threatened to make a scene unless I'd see him alone.” You turned toward Henri, one last desperate plea as you implored him to leave. “Please go!”

“For what it's worth, as an apology, she’s telling the truth. It’s funny. You say she didn’t mention me to you? She didn’t mention you to me. Just before I shipped out, I thought she’d wait for me. I realized I was mistaken when she told me she’d prefer it if we parted as friends before I left. She wanted to spare me the heartache of a Dear John letter. When I got leave I came back here, hoping against hope that I could win her back. But no. It seems I’m once again mistaken. It’s too late. I only had her for a short time. But in that time, I knew her better than you, made love to her better than you… And, if I had married her, I would’ve been a much better husband to her than you.” He glanced at you from over his shoulder and shrugged. “Sorry, darling.”

“Please go!”

“It’s time you get back in line, Captain.”

“If that’s how you feel. I believe I’m done here. Good day.” He turned to leave, but Frederick blocked the path to the door, physically stopping him from leaving.

“We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You had your chance to get him out, but you took too long. Now Frederick had to take matters into his own hands, and he had a point to make. Captain Henri Freycinet, so haughty and naive, became involuntarily involved in the domestic dispute and suddenly found himself in the thick of it, all because your husband was bitter, jealous, and ironic. Frederick pressed his fingers so hard onto Henri’s chest that the Frenchman left a bruise forming. “Appealing, isn't she?”

…and he grabs this poor man and just beats the shit out of him.

You watched in horror as Frederick beat Henri with a fireplace poker. A fireplace poker that he grabbed from the parlor before going outside. He knew you’d go to the wine cellar. He timed the fireworks so that nobody could hear the sounds of a struggle, any thwacks, thumps, and screams drowned out by the loud gasps of awe and thunderous applause from the party guests gathered outside. No witnesses. It wasn’t just a crime of passion. It was premeditated. First he hit him in the stomach, then the face, nearly stabbing him in the right eye and gauging it out with the sharp, pointed end of the iron rod. Henri fought back. But he was a pilot, so hand-to-hand combat wasn’t his forte. Regardless, he didn’t want to hurt your husband. He knew that if he did, even in self-defense, he’d be punished for harming him under a corrupt system that listened to money over justice. He knew he was screwed either way.

Using his strength, Frederick held him immobile on his knees. “You’re gonna learn, Captain.” He brutally punched him in the face, knocking him to his stomach on the floor. He kicked him in the face, then picked him up by the back of his jacket and slammed his face into a wall. “And if you ever even think of sassing me again—” Frederick threw him onto a wooden table. The table splintered and collapsed from the weight of Henri’s body and the force of the impact. He was bleeding heavily and barely conscious. Your husband stopped and noticed blood that splattered on his suit, staining the fabric. Blood that wasn’t his. His voice was laced with annoyance as he tsked, “Ah. Look what you did to my suit!”

You tried to stop him and act as a shield, but getting between the two men only resulted in your earring getting torn from your ear in the ensuing struggle. You’re still not sure which of them did it, but you were sobbing as you held your earring in your hand and pressed a handkerchief to your ear to stem the bleeding. Frederick didn’t stop until Henri struck his head on the concrete floor and was knocked unconscious. He nudged him with the fireplace poker, but the poor Captain didn’t move a muscle. Frederick checked his pulse and there was still a steady beat under his fingers. With Henri out cold, Fredrick didn’t see a point in continuing his lesson. Both the party and his fun was just about over. Captain Freycinet was as revolting as Frederick believed he should’ve been. He wanted the outside to repulse you so you’d never want to set eyes on him again. He was grotesque. Already his eyes were swollen over and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws.

Frederick scolded both Henri and himself. “Oh, come on, that's a custom made Sartori rug! You idiot! I should’ve put a tarp down first.” With a wrinkled nose Frederick took a step backwards. He was tempted to whisper something in Henri’s ear. The Frenchman was broken and lying in a heap on the floor. He won, and he wanted to gloat. But what was the point. Henri would be lucky to remember his own name. Taking great care not to step in it and stain the bottom of his expensive shoes, Frederick walked over the bloody mess that had once been a man but was reduced to little more than an unrecognizable pile of mush. He dialed for an ambulance himself. Maiming a burglar who attempted to intrude upon his home through his wine cellar wouldn’t bring down nearly the same heat as killing one. And this way his disfigured face would be a living reminder to you of what happened to those who dared to cross Frederick Lannington and emasculate him by making public declarations of love to his wife in his house. He wouldn’t tolerate such audacity. With smooth hand movements, he wiped Henri’s blood from the fireplace poker with his cloth handkerchief.

“He kissed you.”

“I couldn't stop him. I tried.”

Then he tells me to go back to the party and see to our guests. He was so nonchalant about what had just transpired mere minutes ago. As if nothing had happened at all.

“We’ll talk about it later. Your guests are upstairs. Please join them. The ambulance is on its way. I’ll stay with him until they arrive, in case he wakes up.”

You heard what your husband said, but you couldn’t will your body to move. You were frozen, petrified. His patience wearing thin, Frederick forcibly grabbed you by the arms, squeezing so hard he left bruises as he shook you to snap you out of your shock. You were thankful the dress he gifted you and made you wear had long, opaque sleeves. Your movements were jerky. You were unable to move with any grace. You didn’t want to leave Henri alone with your husband, but you knew that staying behind would only anger Frederick and make an already very bad situation even worse.

When the paramedics arrived, everyone gathered around and gawked, barely giving them room to breathe. Everyone was told to back up and keep the area clear as Frederick, who conveniently divested himself of his bloodied suit jacket and stashed away the fireplace poker and bloody handkerchief so they’d remain unseen, hurriedly led the medics to where the injured man, unrecognizable in his current state, still laid unconscious, his voice laced with worry. He was a well-practiced actor and liar. He never faltered or slipped up once while questioned by the police and paramedics about what happened. His account was plausible and there were no contradictions or inconsistencies that they could detect, so they had no reason to suspect that he, a man of his wealth and social standing, would ever lie. He told the police that he didn’t want to press charges, believing the man, whoever he was, had suffered enough and wouldn’t dare to come back to try again at a later time.

His face was damaged almost beyond the point at which recovery was possible. There was a cut above his eyebrow, and the scarlet blood flowed into his eyes. Or rather, eye. Singular. By the time help arrived, the left eye was still swollen, but the right eye looked like it was on the verge of bursting out of the socket. His body didn’t appear to be too bad, until the paramedics cut away his clothes and the blooming purple patches told of internal ruptures, likely organ damage. They had looked at him with encouraging faces but were utterly ashen when he couldn't see them, giving involuntary shakes of their heads. Although he would live to see another day, it was uncertain if he’d die in hospital or not. even if he made it, those scars would be forever. And all the while there was you crying in the background like your heart had snapped in two. The hall was soon deserted after that, save for the last guest who moved, a bit unsteadily, out of the door. You and Frederick turned away from the last guest. There were signs of the end of the party. Footmen and maids were beginning to clear up.

You were worried about Frederick’s attitude.“Frederick, I’m really sick at heart over what happened.”

He looked at you and a new expression was on his face. The jealousy and pain were gone. In their stead was a curious urbanity. He would seem whimsical were it not for the underlying tension of his manner and the unexpectedness of his new attitude. “My dear…” He took your hands. “I shall never forgive myself for behaving like a stupid schoolboy.”

“Then you believe me.”

“Certainly, my dear. The incident isn’t even worth mentioning again.”

You started toward the stairs. Your voice was quiet as you told him, “Thank you, Frederick. Are you coming up?“

After that, we didn’t host or attend anymore parties. Frederick was a bad, bad man. Although he didn’t say it outright, I had my suspicions he wanted me out of the house so he could bring in other women. He married me because I was the only kin Father had left, so he left me everything in his will. He wanted control over my inheritance, all my money and my assets. Once he had that, he wanted to be free of the encumbrance of a wife. He’d send me away as soon as an opportune moment presented itself. Then Russia declared war on Germany. It was just what he needed. It was perfect. In 1914, in the face of opposition from the restrictive social code for affluent young women, he enrolled me in a training college under my maiden name so he could get me onto a course to start my training as an auxiliary nurse. He warned me it may be something of a rough awakening and asked me if I was ready for that. I’d have to learn how to make my own bed or scrub a floor, for example. Or what about cooking? He asked our cook if she could give me one or two basic tips, such as how to boil an egg or how to make tea. When I started my course, he didn’t want me to be a joke and thought it might be useful for me to know a little more than nothing.

After two months I finished my course and set off with a team of women to assist in nursing the wounded men from the war. I saw all sorts of gruesome and gnarly illnesses, injuries, infections, and loss of life and limb. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. It was more savage and more cruel than I could've imagined. But I felt useful for the first time in my life, and that must’ve been a good thing. I wouldn't go back to my life before the war. I could never go back to that again. As I learned about medicine and patient care, I learned to finally let the fake smile go. I learned to let all of my masks go, the ones I wore for others and the ones I wore for myself. Fake smiles simply said I was scared or uncomfortable. A real smile or neutral lips felt almost foreign to me and I realized how long it had been since I last sported a genuine one. I finally let my face do what it did naturally. I smiled with my eyes even when my lips were still.

Masking fear can be good or bad. It's all situational, right? If you defend yourself or others, it's good. If you cut yourself off from yourself or others, deny your vulnerable self the chance to breathe and cry, then it's bad. Masking fear was a survival essential when I was married. So much so that I didn’t feel fear as others did. I processed it differently. I thought that if I ignored the anxious thoughts as if they were some distant radio and got on with doing things that were right for me, in time they’d lessen and disappear. Now when I’m anxious, I vent with a person who loves me, one who has real wisdom and life experience to offer, one who’s the calm and not the storm. I can assure you with full confidence, my love, that you’re a far cry from those monsters and storms. You don’t even come close. My dear, ever since I became a nurse, I’ve taken great care to only see the goodness of those around me. And you, though imperfect as I am, as all living things are, have more goodness in your smallest finger than most people have in their whole body. Nothing you could tell me would ever stop me from loving you, my dearest. I love you. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me, and then some.

Your nightgown transformed into your evening gown from that dreadful night. You looked down in bewilderment as you registered the transformation of your dress. The ballroom was empty and silent. You turned wildly to your right and, as you heard the music and the first sounds of gaiety and laughter, your face broke into a smile. Your smile was the silencing of the clocks, it was both the cage and the ever open door. You looked down at your hands, holding a cream-colored handkerchief. You started to turn your head very slowly, as if you were afraid that whatever was happening around you might suddenly vanish. You heard the door swing open more loudly than usual. He made his entrance late. You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him. He was late and you didn’t play nice when guests didn’t show up on time. Then he spoke. You knew it was him but his voice was all wrong, like he was speaking while being choked. You turned. The figure of Henri melted away and transformed into Louis. And then he vanished into thin air before your very eyes. Where did he go? You had to find him. It was a game. The game of hide and seek.

You remembered playing hide and seek when you were a child, but you were never any good at it. Oh, the delicious thrill of hiding while the others came looking for you, the delicious terror of being discovered, but what panic when, after a long search, the others abandoned you! Those early experiences taught you that you mustn't be too good at the game. You mustn't hide too well. The player must never be bigger than the game itself. You’d always make enough noise so your friends would be sure to find you. But that only made you lose the game. You didn’t have anyone to play those games with anymore, but now and then you made enough noise just in case someone was still looking and hadn’t found you yet. When you went looking for Louis, you were playing a desperate game of hide and seek, fearful of what you might find, most afraid that you would find nothing. Love had a way of cheating itself consciously, like a child who played solitary hide and seek. It was pleased with assurances that it all the while disbelieved. Was life always like that? A game of hide and seek in which you always found the person you were longing for but only occasionally found the person you wanted to be? You wondered. Should Louis hide in your heart, it would not be difficult to find him. But should you hide behind your own shell, then it would be useless for anyone to seek you out.

The chandeliers were just beginning to go dim and you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye. Slowly, very slowly, you turned to look toward the French doors. Louis stood in the open doorway, smiling as before, evidently waiting for you. True love was not a hide and seek game. In true love, both lovers sought each other. The lights were noticeably dimmer. You smiled and ran to him. Coming to a position just in front of him, you made a deep curtsey. He bowed to you and held out his hand. The scene around you remained static until the moment your hand touched Louis’. At that, the music burst forth again, the dance resumed and the ballroom echoed with laughter and gaiety. Louis swept you along into the waltz. You and the man you truly loved whirled around among the other dancers. The music swelled up. As Louis and you continued to waltz, oblivious of everything except each other, the other couples began to melt away, until finally, Louis and you were dancing on your own, still unaware that anything was amiss. Until you noticed that the hand with which he held yours was bloody.

“Louis, you’re bleeding—”

Your words were cut short when you looked up. Your expression froze into one of sudden terror. In one shattered moment your heart and breathing stopped, just stopped. Your mouth opened, but no sound came from it at first. A silent scream. He was a mess, drenched in his own blood. His nose was smashed and eyes almost shut with swelling. His arms were wrapped around his guts like he was holding them in. He was beat so bad that he could’ve been. The music slowly began to fade. Noticing this, Louis faltered and, as he turned to look at you, the music died away completely. He stopped and reacted first with uneasy bewilderment and then with fright. He disengaged himself from you and started to back away towards the French window, his eyes riveted on something behind you. You turned to follow his gaze. The dancers melted away to the very edges of the room in order to clear a path for Frederick, who stood by the open doors of the ballroom and stared at the both of you in a smoldering rage.

Without a word he began to advance on you. You turned to look at Louis, but his eyes were now riveted on your husband as he backed away even further, staggering out into the night. Suddenly, with a cry of fear, he turned, burst open the French window and fell out to his death. You stared into the darkness of the night for a moment and took a few steps forward, as if to chase the vanished apparition, then stopped. His body was gone, leaving behind only bloodstains on the concrete pavement. There was plenty of room for another body. You looked down and your cream-colored handkerchief was wrapped around a concealed knife. A pristine blade, it glinted in the moonlight, waiting to be stained and tarnished with the blood of a man. You clutched at the handle for more purchase as you turned to face your husband. As he advanced on you, he ran into your knife. The knife only did what it was told to do, so you were sure to give it good instructions. You stepped aside and Frederick staggered forwards, taking the knife with him as he fell out of the window onto the exact same spot Louis had been. His body didn’t disappear. As if he was meant to be there when Louis wasn’t. His once brown eyes became hazy as they clouded over with a milky white, translucent film. Your experience as a nurse taught you that this happened after death due to lack of oxygen and circulating blood to the eyes. There was a saying, “Those who die with their eyes wide open deserve it.”

You gasped as you jolted awake, your body covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. There was silence. You were lost, frightened. The light from the hallway flickered and you looked down. Your evening gown turned back into your nightgown. Another nightmare. You could barely move when Frederick was so close to you in your shared bed. Every muscle seized up. Your brain was struggling to recover, to repair the damage of what you witnessed. On each of your arms there were great purple welts that would only deepen over the coming week. Against your ghostly skin they were grotesque, but you knew you were lucky not to have broken bones. Though Frederick never once laid a violent hand against you, the shadows of the beating he inflicted upon Henri were on your skin and heart. The knowledge that your husband could do such a thing just broke something inside of you, something that would remain long after Henri’s skin and bones were healed. It was a sadness in your eyes, a heaviness, an unyielding sorrow that slowed your speech and robbed you of your once easy smile.

Once the color of the night sky with its threads of blue and gold, that Sartori rug told a tale of fear and jealousy once it was stained with splotches of red that, over time, became brown. Frederick could’ve easily replaced it, brought in another. The cost of doing so would’ve been like sparing pennies from his pocket. He could’ve hauled it to the best dry cleaners in the country and have it washed as best as they could. But instead he kept it as it was, wanting those dried bloodstains to serve as a grim reminder to you of the consequences for impertinence.

When you first saw Henri in hospital, you almost didn’t recognize him. His clothes were an utter mess. He was more purple than any human should’ve been. His face still bore congealed blood. He was missing his right eye, which was covered by bandages. His left eye was still swollen. He couldn’t be seeing a thing out of it and he wouldn’t for a while yet. Until his left eye healed, he was blind and had to have nurses keep him steady and guide him. His gait was all wrong. He walked like a scarecrow more than a man. As he neared, your heart was caught in your throat. You were already running. You couldn’t face him just then. Even if what happened wasn’t your fault and you were just as much a victim of Frederick as he was, you couldn’t stop the immense guilt that overwhelmed you and held you in a chokehold. Maybe it made you a coward, maybe it made you selfish, but you couldn’t face him while he was like that.

Due to the extent of his injuries, Captain Freycinet wasn’t expected to make it. But he was a fighter and, miracle of miracles, his emergency surgeries were successes and he pulled through. When questioned by hospital staff about the incident, he could never recall how long the beating had gone on for, only the final kick to his ribs and the sound of the iron bar clattering on the concrete as his assailant dropped it. He laid in the hospital bed, his eye fixed on the window until you walked in. He turned his head to face you. He looked better than when you first saw him. Still bad, but better. He knew already what face you would make, and you did. Your eyes got that wide look, your bottom lip trembled and you hurried to sit by his bedside. Your eyes walked from one injury to another, taking in the gore that was your friend. He could see the conflict already, your wanting to be strong for him and the raw need to weep welling up. He tried to say your name, his cracked lips failing at the first syllable due to dehydration, but he didn’t need to. So instead he croaked,

“It's all right. You can cry.”

It was all the permission you needed. With your head down on the white woolen blanket, minutes passed until you could speak his name. You fetched him a cup of water and he tried to make light of the situation by telling you that he had far worse while in active service and, despite Frederick’s best efforts, he was healing rather well and his appearance wasn’t ravaged. Even with the eyepatch, he was still devilishly handsome. Crisis averted. With his left eye intact, he’d still be able to look at himself in the mirror and admire just how handsome he was. He made bad jokes and puns about how, since there were women who were sexually attracted to men with scars, maybe there were women out there who would be sexually attracted to him now that he sported an eyepatch. Glass eyes didn’t appeal to him, but the eyepatch, now that could be fashionable. He’d also still be able keep an eye on you. Get it? Keep an eye on you? Eye? Singular? The jokes fell flat, but you still appreciated the effort. You smiled wanly at each other.

Henri knew it was easier said than done, but he told you to stop feeling guilty over what happened. He had a lot of time to think about it while laid up in hospital and, looking back on the night of the party in retrospect, he realized that you did everything in your power to protect him. He didn’t blame you one bit for what Frederick did to him. It would take time, but he believed he’d be able to recover and walk away from this, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. A scar may still be there, but he believed that it would gradually hurt less and less until it didn’t hurt at all anymore. He was hopeful and optimistic that, with the right support, he’d heal. He wanted the same healing for you.

After Henri lost his eye, he gave up on ever falling in love again. All jokes aside, in all honesty, what woman would want a man who wore an eyepatch due to his missing eye? But he was okay with it because he already was fortunate enough to experience romantic love once with you. You and he would always have those winter and spring months, those nights in the hotel room. No woman on earth could ever take your place in his heart. And nothing and nobody had the power to take those memories away from either of you. Even after you ended things, he was so grateful to you for continuing to love him platonically.

He reminded you of your time spent together in the hotel room all those years ago, what he said to you about love and what he saw in your future. He still believed his words to be true and made you promise him that you’d at least try to find love, real love, with another man. You had your entire life ahead of you and still had time to move on. When the opportunity finally presented itself, he wanted you to take that chance to leave Frederick and find a man who would treat you as you deserved to be treated. Maybe it wouldn’t come tomorrow, and maybe not next week, but he hoped it would come for you soon. Though you weren’t right for each other, he still believed there was someone out there that would be right for you. Frederick’s beating of him hadn’t changed that. If anything, it only reinforced his beliefs. And even if he was wrong and you never found romantic love, even if the both of you lived out the rest of your lives single and unattached, it didn’t mean either of you would be alone. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. Love presented itself in many different forms. It could be found in friends, found family, a pet…but the most important love of all was the love you held for yourself.

Frederick tried to rip that love out of you in his endeavors to break you down and mold you into the wife and woman he wanted you to be, but he failed. You thought you lost your ability to love yourself, but you found it in 1914 and brought it out when you met Louis. It was greatly damaged and weakened, but it wasn’t dead. It was still there, nestled deep inside of you somewhere. It went into hiding again in 1917 when you were forced to quit your job, but it was still there, just waiting to be let out again. You could feel it. It was tucked away somewhere safe, somewhere Frederick could never reach it. He could very well try again, but he couldn’t kill it. And that which couldn’t be killed could only be made stronger.

One of the last things Henri said to you before you returned to the mansion you considered your gilded cage really resonated with you. His words inspired you, gave you strength:

“Make dread dead, not buried but in an open casket, for we need to be realistic in order to both grieve and make good choices about our next step. Dread is a fear flag, it’ll give you a chance to reflect upon the opportunity arriving and find real reasons to be at peace with whatever change comes to you.”

I’d always hoped Frederick would give me a divorce, that he’d never miss me as long as I left him with his money. For a time, he led me to believe that he was open to the idea. Only to pull the rug out from under me and tell me he changed his mind instead. He wouldn’t give me a divorce. Not ever.

While you were in the middle of helping a patient, one of your fellow nurses fetched you to tell you that you had a phone call. She said that it sounded important, so it was best not to keep him waiting. She took over for you and stepped in to help the patient you were with while you picked up the phone. Although he obviously couldn’t say who he really was, you knew it was your husband calling as soon as the other nurse said “him.” It couldn’t have been anyone else. His call was unexpected. He never once called or wrote you before. You enjoyed nearly three years of no correspondence from him, so why did he call you now? What did he want?

“Hello, Frederick. You're calling very early. What time is it in California? Heh. Frederick, you shouldn't have nightmares. Wrong? Of course not. Oh, but that isn't true. There is something, not wrong, but... Well, I had intended to write to you about it. I hardly know how to tell you. Something quite overwhelming has happened—”

Frederick interrupted you, not caring to listen to whatever you had to say. What he had to say was much more important. He wanted you to give notice and come back to him. When you dared to ask him why, the reason he gave was that he tried living on his own but didn’t like it, so he wanted you to resume your duties as his wife and mistress of the mansion at once.

“And what about my work? What you’re asking is impossible, Frederick.”

“What work? Bringing hot drinks to a lot of randy officers? I’ve already notified the hospital and am sending a driver to pick you up and take you to the airport. You will come home at once.”

The line clicked.

“Lannington. Lannington? Lannington?”

He had hung up without letting you get another word in. Of course he did. He always had to have the last word.

Having no choice, you made plans to return to your husband’s mansion. You wrote as soon as possible, informing the staff that, since you were coming home to take up your duties again, neither a nurse nor a secretary would be necessary. As Frederick’s wife and mistress of the house, as well as a fully trained auxiliary nurse, It would seem redundant to keep on other women and pay them to do your job. You wrote that they were dismissed, effective immediately. You expected their bags to be packed and for them to be gone by the time you arrived. You knew there were others before them, just in-and-outers, but these women lasted a whole month. They must’ve been Frederick’s favorites. If your husband wanted you to act as a wife, then so be it. You’d comply with his wishes. And you wouldn’t care how frustrated and angry it made him.

“Hello, William… Yes, William, it’s me.”

Your butler had been staring at you in silent awe, as if he couldn’t believe it was you. You were a completely different woman from the one he knew. You changed. For the better, it seemed.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Lannington.”

“Thank you.”

“Your husband is waiting upstairs in his room.”

“Yes. Well then, we’d better not stand here gabbing. When he waits, he gets mad, and when he gets mad, that means rush the smelling salts. He has ears like a cat, and he heard that bell as sure as preaching. I’d better hurry right in.” You walked into the bedroom. Your husband was sitting in an armchair by the window, waiting for you like William said he was. You walked over to give him a kiss on his cheek. “Well, Frederick. Hello. Frederick, you're looking wonderfully well. Hilda told me you'd been ill, but—”

“Hilda knows nothing about me. Step over there where I can see you. Turn around. Walk up and down. It's worse than I was led to suppose. Much worse.”

“If you'd like me to go...”

“Don't go. I have things to say to you. Sit down. I’m aware that you dismissed the last nurse and secretary without any input from me. They both left this morning before you arrived, as you ordered.”

“Well, darling, your past nurses all told me that you’re fit as a fiddle. You have a heart. You deny it, but you have one. But at your age, who wouldn’t have? It’s nothing serious. Ought to last you for years if you don’t get excited. It sounded to me that a nurse hadn’t ever been necessary, and that you mostly used them to fetch and carry. And now that I’ve come home to take up my duties as a wife again, I didn’t see the point in keeping either a nurse or a secretary since I’m more than capable of fulfilling both roles. You personally saw to that, darling.”

Frederick said nothing, but you could tell he was seething. You were right, of course. He practically forced you into marriage. He forced you to attend countless etiquette lessons. He forced you to attend nursing school. Through his mandatory teachings, he equipped you with a unique set of skills. Then he forced you to quit your job and come back home. Why wouldn’t you fire his nurse and secretary? You were a dog that learned to bite back. And it was his doing. You were right. And he hated it.

“Be that as it may, I've become used to having a room occupied on the same floor with me and, in view of my heart, I agree it is a wise precaution. You will occupy the master bedroom with me from now on. I had William move down all your things yesterday. Your furniture, books, and everything.”

“But, Frederick... You had no right to move my things.”

“No right in my own house to move what I see fit? I'm not surprised you blush. I was in the room when William took the books from the shelves, and let me say that what we found hidden there was a very great shock to me.” He pulled out an all too familiar box and began reading from one of the first letters Louis ever wrote to you, his voice laced with thinly veiled disgust at what he thought was excessive and unnecessary schmaltz. His face was ablaze with annoyance and contempt.

…Sweetheart, I love you. There. I said it. And if you meet me tomorrow, I’ll say it again. And again. And keep on saying it till we’re old and gray. So, as soon as the war is over, let’s do it. Once everything is settled, let’s get out of Europe and go someplace far away, where war can never again touch us. I know it’s risky, but so’s staying here. The last few months have been hard, but they’re always a little easier when you’re there. As soon as I write you again to give you some sort of signal or sign, leave your boat and meet me at the hill overlooking the old bridge. Bring whatever you can carry. We’ll make do without the rest. Don’t be late.

Louis xxx

“Do these words sound familiar? They should since they’re love letters addressed to you. From another man. Don’t waste your breath trying to explain yourself, my dear. And don’t insult my intelligence by trying to deny it either. I’ve seen you for what you are. I should throw you out, as is my right as a husband with a pretty little cheat for a wife.” Frederick scoffed, “Amazing creature. To have deceived me so.”

“Don't talk like that. You can’t talk to me like that.”

“Why not, my pretty cheat? I'll talk as I please. I've been thinking about this miserable business all night. You’re insane and you must be humored. We must be reasonable and we must be realistic. I gave you a great deal.”

“I know,” you lied through gritted teeth.

“I wonder if you do.” Frederick inhaled deeply. “You're lucky it was only me and William that saw the letters. Be grateful that I don’t burn them in the fireplace or rip them to pieces. I still could change my mind about that. I have it in me, wife, to remove this impertinence.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Then don’t provoke me. I’ll only ask you once. Who is he?”

“Very well. I didn’t want to tell you this way, but you’ve forced my hand. If you must know, he’s someone I've known for nearly two years. Someone I love very much. I can't help it. How else could I say it? However I'd say it, it would be wrong. You must think I've messed this up terribly. But I’m not sorry. You want me to feel ashamed and humiliated for what I feel, for what I’ve done, but I don’t. I’m glad to have finally told you. Do you hear me? I’m glad. You dare to call me a cheat?” You scoffed. “You're one to talk. What have you given me? Love? Affection? Care? The only thing you've given me is an empty house and a marriage that leaves me thinking everyday how much I'd like to slit my wrists!” You snarled.

“Oh, darling, even before we were married, I’ve treated you like a princess! I’ve given you everything! It’s you. You’re nothing but an ungrateful little-little- You’re a little witch! When I think of-of-of all the years that I’ve worked to give you the life you have so you would never know what it is to live without the latest luxury, and this is the thanks that I get? You’re spoiled. Not just because you’re behaving like an ungrateful brat, but because you’re damaged goods. Were there others in between Captain Freycinet and this Louis? Or aren't you the kind that tells?”

“Oh, you mustn't think too harshly of my lovers. They were very kind and understanding when I came to the hospital after a hard day at home.”

“Wife!”

“Well, what did you expect? Do you think I ever would've looked at another man if I'd received one grain of affection from you? You wouldn't allow a dog in the house. Of course, you didn't need one with me around. I was petted, admired, but never loved. After nearly ten years of marriage, you still think my love can be bought with fur coats and diamonds. At least Captain Renault—”

“So that's his name? Renault?”

Your spine stiffened as you realized your mistake. In the heat of the moment, you let your mouth run away with you and gave Frederick a name to go off of. Without a doubt he'd be like a bloodhound with a scent until he found out exactly who Louis was. And when he did…you feared he’d murder him and cover it up, make it look like an accident or suicide. Or even worse, that he’d make Louis disappear altogether, erase him from history as if he never even existed. An unperson. Before you were married, you’d never figured Frederick to be the jealous or violent type. Until that horrible display in the wine cellar… You were all too aware of what Frederick was capable of when in a jealous rage. You made the mistake of underestimating him once, but you never did it again. Any retort died on your lips as you listened to Frederick’s cold and calculated voice, his tone laced with barely concealed anger and jealousy. The mask he had so carefully crafted was once again slipping. But you didn’t retreat. You pressed on.

“What happens in my love life is none of your business!” You hissed to him. “In ten years of marriage, you never cared. Why should you care now? I don't think you do. You just want everyone around you to be miserable.” You were about to end the conversation there and turn your back on him to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“That's where you're wrong. What should happen if you fall with child? By law that child would legally bear my name. And should that child resemble his or her father? You and I both know all the repercussions that would happen should that child's lineage ever be revealed. You and I both know that those whispers would forever follow that child around no matter where he or she went. There would be nothing you or I could do to protect him or her. Nothing, my pretty little fool. So, if you’ve been sleeping with another man, I have a right to know.”

“You dirty minded fool. I’m sick of listening to your filthy accusations. What about your bed? You want to act all high and mighty by telling me you never took a mistress, but what about your secretaries? What if any of them fell pregnant with your child? What would you do then? Leave me for one of them? Convince her husband to let his wife leave him for you? Why don’t you call on Margo? She’s available, you know. Jeff Cameron is a broke and poor psychiatrist, and Margo probably would leave him in a heartbeat for you and all your wealth! She warmed your bed for weeks while I was in training. Did you think I’d never find out about that? What makes you so much different than me? Maybe I want my bed warmed and maybe I want anyone but you warming it!”

“My dear, I've a dreadful headache for this sort of thing and—”

“I'm sorry, but I have a headache too, and I think mine precedes yours by quite a few years.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether you answer me one way or the other. Your bags are packed. If you want him, you can have him. After all, why shouldn't you have a husband? You have him, my dear. Hmm. Have a dozen of them. Sooner or later you'll come back to me. You'll realize that nothing matters but money. Everything passes but money. And me. Only first, you should know what you'll be getting yourselves into. There may come a day when it’s too late to repent and I won’t be there to save you from ruin. You can leave to be with him, that's true. Up to a point. I have an early flight to catch tomorrow, so I better pack my bag. We’ll discuss…this…further upon my return.”

During this period you couldn’t write to Louis at all because Frederick was watching you like a hawk. It was a mercy that he let you keep Louis’ letters and didn’t make you watch as he burned them all in the fireplace. Even when Frederick wasn’t physically there, he still had eyes and ears all over the mansion. While he was out doing God knows what with God knows who, he had the servants act as spies, watching your every move, listening in on your every word. Even if it appeared as if you were alone in a room, you could never be sure that there wasn’t an indoor servant lingering behind a door or an outdoor servant peering in at you from a window. Any behavior regarded as strange or unusual would be reported back to him and used against you, so you had to be discreet. Very discreet. You couldn’t trust anyone. Not even your personal maids. The periodic phone calls you received from Frederick didn’t help matters either. You had no choice but to answer them. Missing a call or failing to return a call within what he thought was a reasonable timeframe only meant trouble for you down the line.

“…I’m being kept a prisoner and you want thanks?!”

“A prisoner?” Frederick laughed, his voice sending chills down your spine as it crackled and distorted over the receiver. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit melodramatic, dear? Silly child, our house isn’t a prison. It’s…a castle, a beautiful castle in the middle of a wooded area that’s like an enchanted forest. There are millions of women who would give their right high teeth to live in a place like we do. Why, you’re surrounded by luxury and just look at the view from any of the balconies. Darling, where are you ever going to find a view again like that?”

“Oh, I don’t care about the view! I’m bored with it! Sure, it’s pretty, but after a while it all seems the same. It’s boring and I’m bored being here all by myself, cooped up surrounded by servants but no one to talk to, no one to share with!”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you worry. Don’t you worry. I’ll be home soon and I’ll keep you company every day until I have to leave again. Every day.”

“But I want a friend.”

“Your own husband isn’t good enough for you anymore?”

“It’s not that. It’s just that I want someone new and exciting to come into my life.”

“And take you away from me like those Frenchmen almost did? Never! No, it’s out of the question!”

“But Frederick—”

“No, no, no! You’ve fooled me once, you’ve fooled me twice, but I will not let you do this to me a third time!”

You knew you would have to wait for an opportune day when everyone was out of the house except for you, when all the servants were off while Frederick was on a business trip or otherwise gone. You couldn’t just dismiss them all for the day outright. That would look too suspicious. So you came up with a plan that would ensure the servants were kept silent and distracted. You gathered them all in the foyer and told them that you wanted to host a surprise party for your husband to welcome him home when he returned from his business trip overseas. With everyone sent out on errands for a big and important event, you were finally able to have a moment alone. You made just one phone call.

“Mrs. Lannington, this just came by air express from New York.”

“Thank you.”

“The seamstress is here about the dress. Do you want her in?”

“In a little while.”

“Yes, madame. I'll get another blanket and bring your clothes up as soon as I get a chance.”

“No, thank you. You needn't bother.”

“Yes, madame.”

Frederick returned from his business trip in America much earlier than originally anticipated, but all of the servants and party guests knew that he would. You were ready for him. As his wife and mistress of his great house, he always told you that you needed to learn to expect the unexpected. No matter how late it was in the evening, he still expected you to greet him when he came in. But you purposely weren’t there to greet him that night.

“Quiet, everybody. Here he comes now.”

“Surprise!” The crowd shouted simultaneously in a cacophonous uproar of excitement.

“Who thought up this torture?”

A woman took him by the arm to lead him through the crowd. “Oh, Frederick, dear, you are surprised, aren't you?”

“Horribly.”

“You see, your wife did remember you would be coming home today, so she wanted to throw you this welcome home party.”

“A party indeed.” He went around shaking the hands of the guests and giving them a well-practiced smile. “Madame. How do you do? Thank you. I'm delighted to see you, sir.” But after exchanging pleasantries and idle chitchat just long enough to not seem rude, he asked, “If you’d be so kind as to tell me where I can find my wife?”

Frederick didn’t bother to knock as he opened the door to the guest bedroom. You were powdering your face and putting in your earrings, but you saw him through the mirror’s reflection as he stood in the open doorway. “This is quite the welcome home party. Well, I hope I'm welcome, my dear. You look as if you were seeing a ghost.”

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“Quickly? I have the impression I'm too late. That object on my dining room table, I presume, is a cake. Champagne, all very fitting. I infer a lover. Make me acquainted with him.”

“He’s not here. It’s just a small gathering of our friends. After all, we don’t want a repeat of what happened at the last party we hosted, now do we, darling?”

Your small gathering of friends turned out to be a full house with well over a hundred people. And, since you were in charge of the invitations the second time around, it had an even larger turnout than the last party you hosted when you were newlyweds. You knew that, and he knew that too. Whatever game you were playing at, Frederick wasn’t amused.

“What are you doing in this room?”

“I'm going to sleep here.”

“Didn't you understand I wished someone to sleep on the same floor with me?”

“We can get one of the maids, Frederick, or perhaps we can get a dog.”

“‘We’? So long as I pay the bills, I'm running this house. Please remember you're a guest, my dear.”

“Well, if I am one, then please treat me like one, Frederick. Your guest prefers to sleep in this room, if you don't mind.”

“This is no time for humor. As it so happens, I do mind.” He gestured to a case of camellias on a side table. “Where did these flowers come from?”

You turned to him and spoke with the false spontaneity of a liar. “From Switzerland.”

“Who sent them?”

“I've forgotten the name of the florist. I think it's on the box.”

“I've seen it. I had the box brought to me. You know perfectly well what I mean. What person sent the flowers?”

“There wasn't any card.”

“In other words, you don't intend to tell me.”

“Frederick, I don't want to be disagreeable or unkind. I've come home to live with you again, here in the same house. But it can't be in the same way. I've been living my own life, making my own decisions for a long while now. It's impossible to go back to being treated like a child again. I don't think I'll do anything of importance that will displease you, but, dear, from now on you must give me complete freedom, including deciding what I wear, where I sleep, what I read...”

“Where did you get that dress?“

You were dressed for the occasion. You had changed into a dress that was very Italian, very chic, and exceedingly becoming. And not handpicked by your husband.

“I had it shipped in from New York today.”

You customized your dress with the camellias sent by your not so secret admirer, wearing them proudly close to your heart. When your monstrous husband clapped eyes on your new look, he was horrified. Desperate to re-assert his authority and to prevent his now glamorous wife from stealing the limelight, he told you to put on one of your old frocks for the party. After all, this party was for him, wasn’t it? If he was the guest of honor, shouldn’t his opinion have been taken into consideration?

“It's outrageous. Where's the dress I bought for you from Nassau?”

“I gave it away to Suzanne, the niece of a French stockholder. She was so grateful. Frederick, please be fair and meet me halfway.”

“On my first day home after such a long absence, and you behave like this. How much did that dress cost?”

“It was frightfully expensive. I'll tell you about it in the morning.”

“To whom did you charge it?”

“To whom I've always charged my clothes, Frederick.”

“And you expect me to pay for articles charged to me of which I do not approve?”

“Well, I could pay for it myself. I've saved quite a little money. I have about $5000.”

“$5000 won't last very long. Especially if your monthly allowance were to be discontinued. I'm sure you've always had everything in the world you want.”

“I haven't had independence.”

“That's it. That's what I want to talk about. Independence. To buy what you choose, wear what you choose, sleep where you choose. Independence. That's what you mean by it, isn't it? I make the decisions here, my dear. I'm willing you should occupy your old room. One of the maids will occupy the guest room next to the master bedroom for the time being and will perform a wife’s duties as well as a nurse's if you will not. That will give you a good chance to think over what I've said. I'm very glad to give a devoted wife a home under my roof and pay all her expenses, but not if she scorns my authority.”

“Well, I could earn my own living, Frederick. I've often thought about it. I could resume my job as a nurse and work in the hospital again or—”

“You may think that very funny. But I guess you'll be laughing out of the other side of your face if I did carry out my suggestion.”

“I don't think I would. I'm not afraid, Frederick.” As soon as you said it, it finally dawned on you. “I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid, Frederick.”

“Wife, sit down. I find all this very distasteful. Your dress isn’t what I wanted to discuss with you at all.”

“All right, I'll listen quietly. What do you wanna discuss with me?”

“I want you to know something I've never told you before. It's about my will. You'll be the most powerful and wealthy member of the Lannington family, if I don't change my mind. I advise you to think it over.”

As Frederick kept speaking, you understood the implications of his words, his thinly veiled threats of blackmail. You could leave and be with Louis, that was true. But he refused a divorce so you’d never be able to marry Louis so long as he lived. And if you left, he’d not only write you out of his will, he’d use his connections to expose Louis’ secrets regarding Stevenson’s death and the true parentage of the boy he publicly recognized as his to every newspaper across both America and Europe. It didn’t matter if any of it was true or not. It was the word of a millionaire with all the influence in the world against the word of a poor soldier. And money had such a persuasive way of talking. Every newspaper and tabloid, no matter how trashy, would pick up such a story, and bored housewives would be more than eager to spread such hot gossip in their circles, desperate for a break from their monotonous lives even if it meant living vicariously through the lives of others. Word would get around to men’s clubs and more, and It wouldn’t take long to destroy Louis’ future, as well as that of the boy. Of course, he’d keep silent if you would. He’d give you his word, only if you’d give him yours in return. Realizing that you had been tricked, you were fuming and seething. Your husband had you right where he wanted you, and you could do nothing about it. And he knew that.

“Tonight, when you came back, you told me I could go away with him. To get my hopes up. You had all this planned out from the beginning. Oh, you swine!”

“That is a very coarse expression coming from so smartly dressed a young woman. I'm referring to that handsome coat hanging neglected in your wardrobe.”

“Take it back then, you...” You took it off the hanger and threw it at him, but he was unfazed as it hit him. Your eyes were alight with indignation and hatred.

“I seem to remember the dress too! But restrain yourself, my dear. A servant might come in.”

“I never loved you. I tell you, I never loved you!”

“Of that there was never any question, my dear. But I can assure you, you’ve had many very good reasons for being grateful. So you're conceding to my terms. Well, I think that's wise. A scandal can be quite damaging to a career…and to a personal life.”

“You don't think that's why I'm agreeing.”

“The point's irrelevant. I can only hope that this shameful episode in your life is completely past. We best go down to your guests, Mrs. Lannington. You can have your fun tonight, enjoy your little party, but I’ve just decided I’ll be leaving for America on an impromptu business trip next week. It’s a good thing your bags are already packed, because I’ve also just decided you’re coming with me.” He wasn’t asking you. He was telling you. Before you could turn and storm away, Frederick reached out and grabbed your wrist in a tight grasp. A warning. “You know, darling, I'm very fond of you. And I might never have taken this step at all, if I hadn't discovered that… Well, after all, darling, a penniless French officer? I thought you had learned your lesson the first time a Frenchman came to this house uninvited. But it appears not. While I’m disappointed, I can’t say I’m surprised. First Captain Freycinet, and now this Captain Renault. You seem to have developed an…acquired taste for poor Frenchmen in uniform. You and your little two-timing heart. I can forgive you having an affair, but I can’t forgive you having such low standards in the men you take to your bed. Your taste in men, aside from me, is abysmal. Of course your being married to me made no difference to them. It never has.”

“Frederick, please do try to be fair.”

“Fair? Was it fair giving yourself to men like that?”

“That isn’t true. I was with Henri before I was with you, and he didn’t know I was married when he came to the house that night. Louis didn’t know either. He still doesn’t know.”

“You’d say that. You’d say anything to protect him.”

“Please don’t talk like that! Don’t you see it’s something none of us could help? He doesn’t know. He asked me to marry him—”

“He’d say anything to get his way.”

“You’re wrong. You’ve got to believe me!”

“Oh, I don’t blame you. I know that you were sincere. But Renault!”

“Frederick, Frederick! If you harm him, if anything happens to him, I shouldn’t care to live. I wouldn’t live. If you do anything to hurt him, anything at all, I will kill myself. I will turn my death into a grand public spectacle for the world to see. And then you’ll have a scandal worthy of your name.”

You wouldn’t let history repeat itself. You wouldn’t let Frederick lay a hand on Louis the same way he did Henri. If he so much as touched a hair on Louis’ head, you would follow through with your threat. Your suicide would get splashed on the front page of every major newspaper all across America and Europe, ensuring you’d have one last laugh over your husband from beyond the grave. His name would get dragged through the mud and he would be ruined into obscurity. His power over you hinged on his carefully constructed reputation, his public persona. His social influence was determined based not just on his money, but on what the public thought of him too. If you killed yourself in such a grandiose manner, you’d destroy everything he had painstakingly built over his lifetime within mere seconds, whether or not you left a note. Especially if you left a note. He’d lose everything. He’d have nothing. You’d ruin his life and reputation even in death. As Frederick stared into your eyes, there was a fire in them that he thought he distinguished years ago. He could tell you weren’t bluffing. He had no choice but to back down.

That year when your wife passed, I was thinking of going to the funeral. Frederick said he’d rather see me dead than hanging around Louis Renault again. Something about that woke something up inside of me. Because when we went our separate ways, it was fine because it was us, but who was he to keep us apart? So that night, I fought back.

You stood up for yourself and defied Frederick by knocking your party guests dead with your new look. As you went around the room and socialized, you grabbed some hors d'oeuvres from passing servers and didn’t care if it looked unladylike as you stuffed your face and asked William to replenish your depleted champagne glass whenever it was getting low. You were in a mood of determined gaiety as you watched and even joined in the merriment.

Then came the big finale a few hours later. Drawn in light upon the starry-black of night, fireworks interrupted the black, spreading pops of color as if the sky were a canvas awaiting ink of brilliant light. Right next to Heaven's stars were those blossoms of rainbow light. With the party guests once more enraptured, their eyes half closed against the minute points of dazzling reflections and accepted only by the kaleidoscopic shuttling of prismatic color, nobody paid attention to their hosts of the evening as they stayed behind. Partially obscured by the crowd, you appeared from the darkness, backing towards one of the white pillars of the terrace so that your face remained hidden as you stood next to your husband.

“Well, if we do have to leave, at least we gave a memorable farewell party,” Frederick said in a hushed tone, sipping from his champagne flute.

“I gave a memorable farewell party for you. I've instructed the maids to pack up all your things. Your essential things, at least, with enough money to get you on a boat back to America and out of my life.” Your voice matched his in volume, but your tone was firm. Final. Uncompromising.

“I thought I told you that we were leaving together.”

“No. You are leaving. Alone. And it’s clear to me that you don’t care about me at all, so I’m sending you away with your favorite person. Yourself.”

“This entire mess was as much your fault as was mine. If not more.” He raised his voice, now laced with agitation, but only slightly. Still nobody but you could hear him.

“Do you honestly expect anyone to believe that such a confident, well-spoken man needed a woman to help him manage his estate? A woman who’s a victim herself, having been a loving wife while her husband couldn’t keep his affairs in order and was embroiled in chronic infidelity that took place in her own house, in her own bedroom. There’s a record of it, husband. From now on, I’ll be the sole beneficiary and take full ownership of whatever’s left of my inheritance, as well as a fair share of your money to support myself. And I had Velma forge a signature on a document stating that since neither you nor I have any male next of kin, the estate shall pass to whomever I deem your successor, should I outlive you. Velma has excellent penmanship, you see. Your society, of course, will be infuriated to discover that you have abandoned me, your wife of many years, to run away to America with your money and your mistress.”

“You viper!”

“Never touch me again. You’re welcome to try to explain it to them, now that they're all gathered... And you’re not leaving any worse off than when you arrived. With nothing. Nothing but your cold hard cash, just as incapable of loving you as I am.”

“You’re making a terrible mistake.”

“I made my mistake years ago, when I married you.”

He chased me out of the house and into the woods. He was the one who brought the knife. It’s funny, Frederick’s the one that made me go to nursing school. That’s why I knew where his femoral artery was. Not sure if I hit it, but I left him out there. His body was never found. Maybe he crawled somewhere for help, maybe he died in those woods and was eaten by wild animals. You say you killed your family? I hope I killed mine. I hope you don’t hate me for what I did. I hope you can forgive me. I’m sorry I kept this from you for so many years after the fact, but I only just learned to come to terms with it and forgive myself.

Eternally yours xxxxxxx

It wasn't anything like what Louis expected. The farther down he read, the more his face showed his heart breaking for you, until it got to the point where it was excruciating to have to witness your suffering through your own words. What he experienced while reading your letter felt like a thousand tiny paper cuts in comparison to the living hell you endured. He couldn’t even begin to imagine it. You, locked in an ivory tower, subjected to daily cruelty which included punishment by scourges and flaying, the scourges being your husband’s tongue and the flaying being done by his hand. And then to have to go through it twice! You experienced it firsthand once and relived it again, all so you could relay your story to him through writing. By the time he reached the bottom of the page, his grief was joined by something else. Though he was shocked at your confession of killing a man, your own husband, he understood the position you were in and why you referred to it as “the very bad thing” in your previous letters. You were a victim of years of marital abuse and, though it wasn’t physical, it left scars all the same. Scars that took years to heal. And though those scars didn’t hurt you anymore when you thought of your husband, they were still there. They always would be. He thought back to when he received that phone call from you out of the blue years ago. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what you were saying or what your call meant. Everything about your voice felt…off. There was no better way to describe it.

“Hello? Yes?”

“Hello? Hello, Louis.”

“Darling! Oh, thank God. You’re alive. I’ve been so worried, your letters stopped coming and the hospital either couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me anything about you or your whereabouts and I thought— It’s been so long since I last heard from you. How did you get my number? Is there anything wrong?”

“I know. I’m sorry. The short of it is, I was forced to quit nursing. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I can’t explain any of it now, but I promise I will. Someday. I know I can’t see you, but I just had to hear your voice. Oh, Louis. My sweet, darling Louis. I just wanted to hear you speak to me. I wish you could come to see me. I'm so lonesome here.”

“Sweetheart? Your voice sounds strange. Are you hurt? If you’re in any danger or difficulties, I cou—”

“No! No. No, I’m— Well, I’m not okay, but I’ll manage just fine on my own for now. We made our pact, and I still want us to live up to it. Darling, tell me now, have we lost our chance? Have you moved on and found someone else?”

“No, never.”

“You're not angry with me?”

“No. Only with myself. I was a cad to make you care for me and then, because of some noble sense of duty, to leave you to get over it the best you can. And there isn't a thing I can do about it. Madeleine still depends on me more and more. She's ill and getting worse. And there's Johnny. Even if I could chuck everything—”

“But I wouldn't let you, Louis. Louis, what's the feminine for your word? That's what I am. I knew you were married, and I walked right in with my eyes wide open. But you said it would make you happier.”

“And it has. I've found love again, and it's due to you.”

“I've been hoping you'd say that.”

“I have more understanding for Johnny. I'm even kinder to Madeleine. So don't blame yourself.”

“Then don't you.”

“It's different.”

“It's not. Shall I tell you what you've given me? On that very first day, a little bottle of perfume made me feel important. You were my first friend. And then when you fell in love with me, I was so proud. And when I came home, I needed something to make me feel proud. And your camellias arrived, and I knew you were thinking about me. I could've walked into a den of lions. As a matter of fact, I did, and the lions didn't hurt me. Please take back what you said.”

“If you can marry me and we can have a full and happy life someday, I will.”

“I'll try.”

After reading your letter, suddenly your past behavior made sense. Your reluctance to accept his proposal, wanting to wait until the war was over before you gave him an answer…your disappearance and cryptic letters… You must’ve been so afraid. You probably lived day in and day out in fear that your past would catch up with you and you’d be booked for the murder. You could’ve told him that you were widowed. You could’ve gone your whole life without ever telling him what transpired on the night of your husband’s death. You could’ve gone your entire life telling him you were unmarried and never mentioned Frederick at all. Whatever your story was, he wouldn’t have pried any further than what you told him. He didn’t need details about what happened or how Frederick died. You told him the truth about what happened that night because you trusted him with your deepest and darkest secret. You didn’t need to ask for his forgiveness for keeping this from him for so many years. There was nothing to forgive. It was your secret, and it was up to you to decide if you wanted to tell it or carry it to the grave. Just to be safe, he burned your incriminating letter in the fireplace. It would be kept between just the two of you. Nobody else would ever know. Not even Johnny or any other future family members.

Though reading your letters kept him sane and helped him to cope with his trauma and snap him out of his self-inflicted spiral of self-torture and rumination, he regretfully told you that he couldn’t be with you until his son came of age. He felt he had a duty to John that he needed to fulfill. He needed to focus on giving Johnny the best future he possibly could. Before Louis could allow himself to remarry, he needed to raise Johnny to be someone John would be proud of, a better man than even himself. He couldn’t explain his reasonings beyond that. He knew if you stood in front of him at the courthouse and married him now, he’d never be able to keep his hands off you. If he had the future with you that he wanted, he was certain you’d conceive a child before your first anniversary. As much as he wanted a child with you, he just wasn’t ready.

He knew that if you became pregnant, he’d be unable to love you and your child in the way that you both deserved to be loved. He wouldn’t be able to devote himself to either of you wholeheartedly, because he still felt like half of him died when John and Madeleine did. He made a promise to John, to Madeleine, to himself, and to Johnny. He needed to see it through. He couldn’t even think of romance or marriage until then. He wrote to you and reiterated that, while he wasn’t choosing to do this as a form of punishing either you or himself, he didn’t blame you if you couldn’t understand him or his reasons for purposely keeping himself away from you. He didn’t blame you if you didn’t want to wait for him. A long distance relationship was too much for most people to bear. He knew he was asking a lot from you by asking you to wait until Johnny was at least eighteen years old.

He was open and honest with you. He told you in no uncertain terms that, while he wouldn’t commit himself to or love any other woman apart from you, it was highly likely that he’d sleep around from time to time. He couldn’t survive on oxygen alone. He had to be surrounded by women. Although he’d sleep with them, he promised you that he wouldn’t lead them on. He’d take every precaution to ensure he didn’t father a bastard child with any of them. None of the women he’d take to his bed could ever hope to hold a candle to you. They’d be a means to an end, a distraction, a way for him to cope with his trauma, survivor’s guilt, and loneliness. He acknowledged that it may seem ironic and hypocritical of him, given how much his wife’s infidelity hurt him in the past. But he told you that, while Madeleine kept John like a dirty little secret, he wouldn’t do the same to you. He wouldn’t keep any secrets from you, no matter how long you were apart.

If you wanted to take other men as lovers, you were more than welcome to. Louis knew that, like himself, you couldn’t live on oxygen alone. You had to be surrounded by men. You could sleep with whoever you wanted and didn’t need his permission. He told you that, since you were so beautiful and so witty, all you’d have to do was just sit, and they’d come to you. You could have a line of lovers in zero time flat. Besides, he thought you’d handle them very well. He joked that it’d save him the trouble of sending flowers and candy. Louis was so open to it that he playfully encouraged you to write to him and tell him of your dates and outings, all your little erotic escapades. In return, he promised that he’d tell you about his. For you and Louis, your little dalliances with other people wouldn’t mean anything and you’d both make sure all the intimate partners you had knew that.

But he added that he’d understand if this was something you weren’t comfortable with and couldn’t agree to. He didn’t want to make you feel as if you were held to some obligation to him. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel as if you were wasting your life away by waiting around for him. You were still young, you could marry any man of your choosing. If you wanted to move on and find another man to spend the rest of your life with, he’d respect your decision. He didn’t want to be selfish and rob you of the chance to get pregnant and have children of your own if that was what you wanted. He wanted you to be happy, even if you found that happiness with another man. It’d hurt for a good long while and, although it’d never leave him completely, the pain would eventually numb until it became bearable. Not pleasant, but bearable. While he wouldn’t find another love after you, he’d want you to find love again even if it couldn’t be with him.

5 June 1924

…Bereavement, grief, comes in waves. Though it ebbs over time it sometimes still feels as if my soul needs to bleed an ocean through my eyes. Eyes that never blink, only watch the world continue in this numbing sense of sorrow. Sometimes when I think Madeleine and John have settled into my memories for another year, content to be silent, invisible, they come back, unannounced, to the forefront of my mind. Guilt will do strange things. Lock the truth in a cage and warp love into something strange and awful. Loving him meant I would have traded places in a heartbeat, fought until we either both lived or died. And so, for me, the mourning period didn’t offer me the catharsis I hoped for. Bereavement has been my companion these past few years, a shadow that, in time, has lessened until it’s all but gone. It doesn’t hurt anymore but it’s still there, transformed into something else. Where it once was, holding my hand like a vise, I find the flowers of happy memories with you instead. Where there was pain, so much pain, there’s now a form of joy and pride for whom John and I were and what we achieved together. While France is healing from the war, I’m healing alongside her, darling. I love you.

Louis xxx

12 August 1928

…I believe that when you meet your soulmate, the universe will show you the price of what you wish for. The real deal is never cheap. Those who will pay the price of emotional pain can learn what love is, can feel the blessing of true love. So, I ask you, is our love worth it? I believe it is. But do you? When I first met you, my darling Louis, I saw what was on the table and knew what the cost of your love was. But I didn’t balk or turn away, because I knew then that you were the one for me. While I’ll admit you aren’t the first man I’ve ever loved, I can promise you that you’ll be the last. While it wasn’t love at first sight and I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, there was a moment where I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.

Our pathways may come together and separate again for months or, as you say, years. The kind of love we have is something we must pay for with personal struggle. Through no faults of our own, fate has asked us to wait for each other. Those who won't wait for their soulmate or take on any struggle can't have “the one”. But I’m willing and ready to wait for you because, sweet Louis, when we’re finally married, everything that we are will be shared just as it is now. Your struggles will be my struggles, my pain will be your pain, your joys will be my joys, and my happiness will be your happiness. So is it really so different than what we have now? Though I don’t have a ring or a signed piece of paper, in so many ways, I feel as if I’ve been your wife for years already. It comes down to whether or not you love me, and whether or not I love you. That’s it. The rest is just detail. And I do love you. So very, very much. And I know you love me in a way you thought you’d never love again. So we’ll be all right in the end. I’ll send you snaps and enclose them with my letters so you can see what I see, feel what I feel, love what I love. I hope you’ll show me the same courtesy. All my love, sweet Louis.

Patiently yours xxxxx

15 February 1932

It’s the day after Valentine’s Day. I’ll kiss this crisp piece of paper I’m writing on and stain it with my favorite shade of lipstick so I can send you all my love and kisses, darling. The neighbors think I don’t hear them as they whisper and gossip about me. They think I'm a fool to wait and spend my days like I do. Eyes set to the horizon, arms resting on the cold metal rail, sitting alone on a park bench with my nose stuck in a book or my eyes downcast and scribbling away on sheets of paper as I write to you. I do so much more than just fritter away my time pining after you, my dearest. But they don’t see that. The way I see it, they're missing the greatest mysteries of life as they chase the mundane and trip over the minute details of existence. Waiting here gives me time to let my mind escape the boundaries of the ordinary, to think beyond the offerings of modern living. I ponder the threads that bind one person to another and the wounds that separate. I think about the origins of goodness and what humanity really is. Waiting here while others do important things is such a gift, a blessing of time. I would give up an eternity of tedium to simply solve a great mystery. All my love, sweet Louis.

Patiently yours xxxxx

17 July 1936

It's sunny today, around eighty-five degrees. Sky’s blue and clear and beautiful. I took a walk through the botanical garden. Followed the same path Henri and I walked down when we were all young and in love. It made me laugh thinking how nervous he was. His palms were sweating so bad I'd thought he was going to pass out! He was just too cute. Well, I'm sure you're tired of that story by now. I just keep thinking about that walk and what it would be like if you were the one beside me. I'd give anything to go back there, to show you all of my favorite spots. The sun doesn't seem as bright without you today but, when I close my eyes, its warmth makes me feel like you're here with me. Don't worry about a thing. Just think about the big hug I'll be giving you when you and I meet. I love you with every breath, my wonderful Louis.

Patiently yours xxxxx

[ic3qu33n]

I realized that I needed to post something that isn’t private for once. I was having a little bit of a mental health situation that sometimes I need to work out on my own. I feel much better now. So finally here is:

“What is your parents story?”

pt.2 “my mom”

My mom is the second oldest of 4 children and the oldest daughter. Unlike my father she wasn’t abandoned but she was sheltered to a point of almost being in prison. My mom was born with blonde hair, hazel eyes and pale skin. To her mother she was as perfect as a porcelain doll. My grandmother treated my mom as if she were so fragile. She dressed my mom up in cute dresses, shiny shoes and always wore ringlets in her hair. My mom could play outside. My mother wasn’t allowed to have pets… let me back track a little bit. My grandmother was a very vain woman. She called herself the “Spanish Elizabeth Taylor”. She wore her hair short like Elizabeth and always dressed elegantly, she was always following the latest fashion trend. My grandmother never wore tennis shoes or tshirts and jeans. (even well into her 80’s she only wore pant suits and dressed as if she was going to a business meeting). From other family members I heard my grandmother was the woman that men would obsess about. She loved to go to dance. Thats how she met my grandfather. He was a marine, actually from Arizona and was home visiting before be stationed to Hawaii. They married quickly and had their son (moms older brother). Now this is the first rumor that follows my mom well into her 60’s until I do a DNA test that proves otherwise. My grandmother was pregnant before my grandfather left to be stationed in Hawaii. But my grandmother supposedly had an affair with another man she met at a dance. (Mr. B) So when she started to show after my grandfather left everyone in the family started the rumor and told my mother her whole life that she was a product of an affair. My mom being born fair skin and not looking like either parents she was treated differently. My grandmother became obsessed with the beautiful baby she had and kept her to herself. Soon after my grandfather had returned home. He loved my mother and said she looked like his mother (which we all know now he wasnt lying). Unfortunately my grandfather was killed in a car accident when my mom was only 5 months old. Everyone was upset but none more that her older brother who was 5 at the my grandfather passed away. He blamed my mom for whatever reason and tried to hurt my mom on many occasions. Then one time my grandmother finally kept him away from my mom when he tried to drown my mother in her bath. He was sent to live with family and my grandmother saw him every few days. My mom was 3 when my grandmother remarried. When my grandmother was pregnant with her 3rd child she finally had her eldest son move back home. He was almost 10 (4 1/2 years he lived with family) My uncle still had a resentment towards my mother, when she was 12 he threw a stick in her front wheel on her bike and she crashed into a light pole and then my mom had to had surgery done to her eye and this is where she starts wearing glasses. This is also when my grandmother stops letting my mom play outside. She’s not allowed to get dirty or hurt. So she stays inside and reads books by a window. (Today this is all my mom does, read books) she not allowed to have pets because they might maul her (which as an adult my mom bring home any and all animals she “finds”). My moms life became like that of a caged bird. Pretty and protected/ sheltered.

Anyway we will fast forward to when my mom meets my father, they were 19. My mom wasn’t impressed with my dad at first. But when she knew my grandmother hated him, she married him. Now my mom and dad are in this toxic relationship.

My parents both came from a very hostile, cold and distant family unit. So one thing they told us (their children) growing up was that they would always be there for us no matter if we are the biggest fuck ups in the world… we would never be turned away or abandoned.

Anyway there is so much to type out but I will end this here… I’m sure you will learn a lot about my family over time…my family will pop up in a lot of my “writing”.

[eventiderpg]

BASICS

Faceclaim: Adeline Rudolph

Name: Cadence “Cadie” Kentwell

Age: 26

Gender: Cis Female

Home: District 2

Role: Victor of the 66th Games and Mentor

Personality: Intimidating, Chaotic, ruthless, loyal, determined

Song: Glory and Gore by Lorde

BIOGRAPHY

Mentions of killing, death

Cadence Kentwell was born into a long line of Kentwells that believed they were better than the rest. It was drilled in to them that you either went into the games or you became a peacekeeper. And so Cadie found herself being enrolled in the District 2 training academy before she knew it. Of course she loved it. She had grown up thinking that the best way to be the best was via the games. Her one goal was volunteering and winning the games. And she was going to let noting get in the way.

Of course it was hard. Cadie was small. A lot smaller than most of her fellow peers. And so they underestimated her. They didn’t think she was good enough. That was just bait to Cadie. She was determined to show that she was better than them, and that she didn’t need the advantage of being tall. Being small gave her advantages of her own anyway. Cadie quickly learnt that being agile and quick on her feet could help her overcome some of the biggest tributes.

Cadence was also lethal at long distance. Up close, her height was a disadvantage. But Cadie learnt to use knives and spears to her advantage. The weapons soon became her weapon of choice, and Cadie soon rose to being an actual player in the training academy.

When the time came to it, she never actually got to volunteer. She was 17 years of age when she was reaped. Each year there were people that were supposed to volunteer. Nobody volunteered for Cadence. But the girl was not surprised. She had made no effort in making friends in her years at the academy. What she didn’t understand was why someone would waste their one opportunity to claim glory, to let her go into the games instead. She supposed she knew that they probably thought she wouldn’t make it.

But she proved them wrong. Cadence won. She'd never doubted herself. And so she returned home with her head held high. Of course, deep down she was never the same. There was something that came with killing other people her own age. She didn't regret anything that she had done. She'd had to survive. But, something had changed inside of her.

And returning home was difficult. Re-adjusting to life was difficult. She supposed the only thing that kept her head above water was training her younger sister. Clove Kentwell was 7 years younger than Candence. She supposed that was a good thing, because Clove was just as thirsty for the win as she herself had been, and she wouldn't have put it past Clove volunteering in her sisters place.

So Cadie spent most of her time preparing and personally training her sister. She didn't know if Clove would get reaped or picked to volunteer, but she wanted to make sure that she was ready. They had no real other family. Whilst they came from a long line of Kentwells, they had no actual immediate family. Clove was everything she had. And she was going to make sure she wouldn't lose her if she did go in the games. Of course she idea that she could have left Clove all alone if she’d died in her own games hadn’t crossed her mind until after she’d won her games.

But she did. Candence lost Clove. She wasn't surprised when Clove volunteered. She had to one up her big sister after all. But, what did surprise Candence was when Clove was killed. It was like a sucker punch to her heart. And the worst bit was that Cadence hadn't been able to react. She had a ice cold bitch reputation, and all eyes, and cameras had been on her. She hadn't been able to mourn her sister.

Not until she had returned to two anyway. The moment she stepped off that train she had locked herself away in her Victors house. It felt more like a prison than a Victor house though. She spent most of the next year here, unless required to be else where. And then she plastered the fake smile onto her face, and tried to make people believe nothing was wrong.

Only those who truly knew Cadence would be able to tell. And there was really not many of those people left. Cadence had never been a very trusting person, and so, with Clove lying in a grave, there were not many people left in this world for her.

She supposes that is what makes her a perfect mentor for the Quarter Quell Games. Though she could kill any of the rest of the District Two team for not giving her a year off this year. It was what she deserved after the heart ache of last year. But she once again finds herself thrown into mentoring. At least this time she doesn't particuarly care if District Two win.

Once upon a time all Cadence Kentwell cared about was making her district proud. Now she just wants to survive.

Written by Rachie

[rrickgrrimes8]

hi! i was thinking if you could write an imagine of reader being rick and lori's daughter and sister to carl, rj and judith. i don't have a specific idea in mind, but just her before and after the time jump, struggling with being there when lori and carl died, and looking for rick with daryl, her relationship with her siblings and michonne, maybe maggie and hershel too (i was thinking since carl was 10 when it all started, she was 7 so now she's 17) thank you so much, and btw i loved your imagines i've read so far 💞

Being a Grimes ~ Rick Grimes x Grimes!reader

thank you so much for requesting i really enjoyed making this one. i also have a series kinda like this about Jacey Grimes which i’m currently making a book two for.

warnings: alluding to sexual assault or rape, suicide, death, gore (lemme know if i’ve missed anything off here)

sorry if there is any mistakes please tell if there is and give me feedback i’d love to here back from yall

masterlist

request guidelines

request are open

It was strange for y/n. This world would be strange for anyone really. But she was different. At only a mere 7 years old when the world went to shit she struggled as did many others. With the recent loss of her father - one she didn't entirely understand - still protruding through her heart, it was hard - so hard. 

When it happened she was at daycare. The teaching assistant tried and successfully ate the teacher in front of her. She was next and was so close to being eaten until Shane rushed in. He kicked Ms Twune and grabbed y/n. Her mom sobbed at the sight of her, covered in blood and the tears smothering her daughters face. Carl was shocked too. He wanted nothing more than to protect his little sister. His dad always used to tell him that that was his duty - his job. And he hated how he had failed in this moment. 

They made it to the quarry soon after. Y/n thought the group was nice - well mostly. The Dixon brothers scared her was what she told her brother or any of the children she had befriended. But she was lying. Yes, she was scared but only of Merle. He was creepy and mean to anyone he saw. Daryl was somewhat the same but he always found himself being nicer to the young child. And often kept her company when Lori and Shane went for a ‘walk’ in the woods. Glenn was another she found herself drawn to. He unlike Daryl happily invited her company. Glenn was sweet and funny. He never failed at making her laugh till she felt like she was going to pee. They were good friends which came to a fault when he had to go on runs. She’d scream and cry and refuse to let go of him because she was afraid that what happened to her father would happen to him. 

That’s what happened earlier that morning. Glenn and a few others were going into Atlanta, despite her dismay. Glenn assured her he’d be fine, which she didn't believe and continued her tantrum. 

“Can yer’ shut that damn baby up?” Merle spat covering his ears. 

Shane shot him a threatening glare while Glenn stayed preoccupied with the distraught girl. “Hey, it's okay. I’m coming back,” He insisted holding her tightly at his hip, “I promise you, sweet girl.” 

“No, b-b-but dada promise too a-a-and h-he,” She stopped herself, sobs erupting from her small body. 

“I know sweet girl, I know. But I’ll be back I know I will.” Glenn placed her on the back of the RV, “I tell you what I’ll bring you back some of your favourite sweeties, huh? Would you like that?” 

Giddily she nodded at his proposition, “Yes! Yes!” 

“Alright, then I’ll bring back some for you, okay?” She nodded smiling cheerfully, “I love you, kid.” 

“I luv you too, dumbass,” y/n giggled. 

Glenn looked around cautiously hoping no one heard that “Hey sweet girl you can't say that.” 

“W-what? Why?” the child began to cry again, “Y-y-you say it.” 

“I know b-but its adult words okay? Not y/n words. When you're older, alright?” She nodded her head again kissing his cheeks softly and hugging him. “Thank you, sweet girl. I’ll see you soon,” He kissed the top of her head and started towards the car smiling as she shouted, “With sweeties!”

The group returned hours later bearing a new man instead of Merle. Y/n waited patiently for Glenn and the aforementioned sweets. "Gen!" She screamed happily still unable to say his name fully. The man sprinted over to her, pulling her into a much-needed cuddle after the day he had. 

"It's Glenn, sweetheart," He chuckled while correcting. 

"Oh sorry Gen," She wrapped her dainty arms around his neck. 

"That's okay, sweet girl. I missed you." 

"I missed you too," She whispered before letting out a longwinded 'ew', "You stinky, Gen." 

The man smelt his shirt and nodded as the potent smell of walkers reached his nose. "I know yucky right?" 

"Yucky!" Y/n buried her face in Glenn's shirt ignoring the stench and just enjoying his company. She always became clingy like this after coming home from a run. He loved it. On runs, if he ever encountered a life-threatening situation - like the one today - he always finds himself realising how much she means to him. Glenn saw her as a little sister - one almost replacing the ones that were cruely ripped from him when this began. 

"How was it?" She inquired. 

"Not fun, sweet girl. But I got your sweeties and a nice man helped us out. Saved us," She beamed. 

"I like the good man. I'll give him two kisses when I see him. Maybe even one of my sweeties," Glenn chuckled. 

"Why two kisses, y/n?" 

"One for saving you. Two for bringing you hom," Glenn grinned contently and kissed her forehead. 

"Its home bubs with an e on the end." 

"Oh," She mumbled burying herself again. 

"Oh my God," Someone muttered as they exited the van. 

"Dad! Dad!" Carl screamed causing Glenn to snap his head in their direction. Carl came running towards the man, Rick, who had saved them in Atlanta. Y/n hadn't moved yet as she feared it was only a dream. That her dada wasn't really here. 

"Sweet girl," He pulled her out of his neck, "Look it's your dad." The child gazed over to where her brother had run to. Sure enough, it was her dad. He held Carl as he cried, looking to Y/n wanting to hold her too. 

"Dada!" She screamed jumping out of Glenn's arms dangerously. The girl scraped her knee on the way down but continued throwing herself into the hug. 

"Oh, Carl! Y/n!" She kissed all over his face childishly, "I luv you, dada." 

"I love you too, baby girl."

~

The years hadn't been kind to Y/n. She lost so much. Too much in fact that it had driven her to the depts of insanity and made her do things to herself, to others that she more than resented. The first loss was her mothers. She wasn't there like Carl was but the grief burned through her still. Y/n was too young to understand it really. Just how she was when Rick supposedly died. Y/n couldn't understand where her mom had gone she just knew she had a little sister now. One she swore to protect. 

She thought she had failed that when the prison fell. The young child was on her own. Injured and lost. She wandered through the woods for days until she stumbled across a group. The group were mean and despite her resistance wouldn't let her go. They hurt her in ways she didn't and wouldn't speak of it even now. But that all changed when Daryl showed up. He protected her - stopped them from hurting her. And eventually led her back to her family. Where for the first time she began to fear her father. 

Terminus was next. The people there snatched her from her family. She was forced to watch from afar as they were guided into the crate. Rick fought against them, Carl too but it was to no use. They had sectioned her off in a playroom. Every once in a while an older woman came in to fed and played with her. She hated it. Being in this world for more than a year now she knew that people like them didn't just want to play even if she did. She learnt that from the Claimers. 

Carol found her. Although having never have been all that close to the older woman - the only relation being the closeness between y/n and Sophia - seeing her after so long made her cry out of joy. Carol was happy too as she rushed out of that place to take her to safety. The pair ended up in the woods. Carol had stopped a moment ago to clean the dirt from her face, "lemme help." 

The girl sat up from where she was put down and cupped some water splashing it on Carol's face. Carol flinched as the water hit her, "Uh thank you." 

"Welcome," She looked away getting distracted by the nearing sound of footsteps. 

"Get behind me, y/n," Carol ordered to which she shook her head. 

"No it dada," She ran away from the woman and towards the group. 

"Y/n come back here!" Y/n continued ignoring Carols pleas and crashed herself into the back of Rick's legs. 

The father shot around and began to cry as he saw the child he thought he lost at his feet. "Oh, baby!" He collected the girl in his arms. Carl rushed to them too happy to see her alive after Gareth claimed he killed her. "Oh y/n, never leave me again, okay?" He looked directly into her matching blue eyes, "Promise me." 

"I promise, dada." 

Later Carol led them to Judith. Y/n was over the moon and refused to let her out of her sight, which was exactly what Rick was doing too. They found the church a while after. There they had some semblance of peace. She was glad to have Glenn back - Maggie too. Along with the new people although Eugene was a bit weird. 

At the church was also when the questions started. Daryl had told Rick about the group they were with and regretfully had to inform the father how she was there before him. Rick asked y/n - begged her - to tell her what happened. But she refused. She couldn't say what happened. What they did, which just made Rick fear more. Eventually, she spoke a little about it. She was vague and could barely string two words together without crying. He hated it. He hated how this was a reality for his daughter. He saw the bruises they left. And he couldn't understand how someone could touch his child. Or how he could be so powerless to stop it. 

Bob died. She didn't really know the man but it still upset her. Beth too. Although she was a lot closer to her. Beth was one of her only friends and was someone who would look after her when her father couldn't. They bonded and now she was gone. 

After Beth's demise, they spent lots of time on the road. They suffered, almost died countless times but they prevailed. They got stronger - she got stronger. And they eventually found Alexandria. There everything was good again like how it was at the prison or even before this hell. She liked it there and didn't understand why the others were so sceptical. 

Though that didn't last for long. Y/n began to hate the place when Carl got shot. Alexandria almost stole her brother from her. So she despised it. She refused to leave her brother's side as he adjusted to his injury. Yes, he found it annoying how she wouldn't leave him be and he often snapped at her. But she was there when he needed her. Despite the age difference and the many years of memories they had lost to this fight, she understood his pain. When he saw himself as ugly, a monster even, she made him think otherwise. She kept him afloat, which he was eternally thankful for. 

Glenn was next. 

She didn't believe it even after she was forced to see it with her own two eyes. She was next to Glenn in the lineup. She had to watch up close. Y/n had to be mocked by that man. She had to stay the whole night with her best friends brains on her face. After that night she blamed herself. She told herself that if Negan was just one person off she would be dead and he would live. He would get to see his child born and grow old with Maggie like they had spoken about. She wholeheartedly believed he deserved to live over her. 

The war with Negan shook her to the core. At the time his face filled her nightmares. He just looked so normal. He looked nice even. Yet he hurt and he hurt and he hurt. 

He killed her Glenn. And then Carl. It wasn't Negans fault although she did blame him. Carl had gotten bit. Y/n held his hand as he died in that tunnel as the home they had built above them fell. She got a letter too - even though she would rather have preferred to have her brother back. In the letter, Carl told her how proud he was of her - how thankful he was to have her as a sister. He told her to protect Judith, their dad and Michonne, who she had recently begun to call momma. 

After Carl's death, y/n shut herself from the world well everyone except her father. For days she would cry until she couldn't anymore. She would scream and scream until her voice was gone. She just didn't understand why it had to be Carl? Why mom? Why Glenn? Why Beth? Why was it never her? The following weeks she found herself wishing it would be her next. She could never bring herself to say it out loud but with any battle, any fight, anything, she wished it would be her. 

So when she lost her father her whole world fell apart. He was her consistent so why did he leave her? She was at the bridge that day. Daryl held her crying frame as Rick set off that final shot blowing him and the walkers off the bridge. Y/n Grimes' father was dead. 

She stayed in Alexandria for a while afterwards. For the sole reason to protect her siblings. Yes, siblings - plural. Somehow through all the bad some good came from it. She just wished her father and Carl could've seen it. RJ Grimes came into this world 9 months later. And he was perfect. For months she would assist in taking care of him as Michonne wasn't doing the greatest without the love of her life. Truth be told neither was y/n she was just better at hiding it. 

Until one night it all became too much. Y/n didn't know how it happened but she found herself balancing on the edge of her window. She wanted to jump - to end it. But she just couldn't will herself to do it. And when Daryl showed up she knew she couldn't. "Hey step away from ta window, alrigh'," The man ordered as he saw her shaking frame rocking back and forth. 

"I-i can't," She sobbed. 

"Ye' ya can. Jus' step back I'll catch ya," Daryl moved closer but paused when she shouted to stop. 

"I can't, Daryl. They're all gone. They're all dead," The tears clouded her eyes. She shut them tightly picturing her families faces wanting so badly to join them. 

"Please jus' step back, y/n. Yer' not alone. I'm here," He croaked the tears floating down his cheeks, "Don't jump." 

"I love you, Daryl." 

"I love ya too, okay? So step away from the window," He watched as she turned her head slightly catching his eyes. 

"I love you but I can't. Tell mom, RJ and Judy I love them as well." 

Suddenly she went to fall forward but Daryl reacted quicker. He gripped her waist pulling her into the room unwilling to release his grasp. "Yer' not leaving me," He told her as she cried into his shoulder, "Yer' cant leave me." Overhearing the chaos, Michonne entered her daughter's room to see the window wide open and the two of them crying. Daryl looked at her. The look telling her all she needed to know. Michonne began to cry herself and joined them on the ground. 

"Y/n?" A small voice called from the door frame. 

"Judith go back to bed, okay?" Michonne told her but Judith continued towards her sister. The girl said nothing as she wiped her sister's tears and held her hand.

It was 5 years later now. After her attempt, she left Alexandria with Daryl in search of her father. She didn't believe he was alive despite everything inside her wanting to. But Daryl did and after what happened they became a lot closer. He was happy she joined him. Even though the act of being out there was gruelling at times he was glad he could look after her. And if something would've happened to her while he was gone he could never have forgiven himself. Understandably Michonne was angry that y/n decided to leave. Y/n was her daughter and Michone her mother. They needed each other but she was willing to let Y/n leave to figure that out. It brought her peace looking for her father. 

The silence was her favourite and as Daryl wasn't much of a talker she got lots of it. They got a dog too, which Daryl cleverly named Dog. Everything was a messed up version of okay but it was still good. Being out there made her find her purpose. She went home a lot more than Daryl did, which pleased her siblings and mother. It was always for a few days never longer as she feared she'd stay forever and she couldn't. As much as Alexandria is good it also drives y/n to a dark place. One she was in that night. She lost so much there. And staring at those four walls drove her insane. It didn't help how Negan was imprisoned there. Just thinking how close he was made her skin crawl. She knew how Rick visited him when he was alive that he believed Carl was right about the killing. That it had to stop. Y/n knew he was right too but she could never bring herself to one admit or two face Negan. 

It felt like a story she read as a child when the Whisperers showed up. Like Negan, they scared her. So when she was told about his escape she only assumed the worst. The Whisperers took so many from them. Like Enid for example. Her story was cut short because of them. The two never really spoke but she understood how she and Carl felt for each other at a time. So ultimately it felt like she lost her final piece of Carl when she died. Y/n wished she had spoken to her when she could've. She wished she could've heard the untold stories they shared. She needed to know about Carl's final years with her. But now she's gone too along with those memories. 

The war with the Whisperers took everything from them. The Kingdom. Hilltop. Alexandria. Along with the lives they lost in the process. With the group separated she found herself protecting Judy and RJ. Michonne had gone. Where she had gone to, y/n had no idea. For a messed up reason, she began to prepare herself for her mother's death before it was even announced. That was until she got the call. She was okay and... apparently so was Rick. 

Disbelief was what hit her first. She couldn't hear his voice nor see his face so how could she know it was true. Michonne didn't know either she couldn't if he was really there, still alive. That night of the call she left. Without hesitation, she kissed RJ and Judith's heads, told them she loved them and told them to tell everyone else that and left. She left in the direction Michonne had told her. 

She left to find her father. And she knew she wouldn't return until she did. "I'm coming, dad."