#why Esther goes to the Park for Christmas

[faejilly]

Under the sea prompts! Narwhal and your choice of fandom/ character(s)!

wow, this ask is very old, I am very sorry. Have almost 3k words as an apology?

Narwhal - Keep coming back to the same place, featuring Esther Sinclair and Tompkins Square Park from The Unsleeping City

It's the park that makes her realize she can choose magic, not just be chosen by it.

Part cage, part refuge, part warning, Tompkins Square Park isn't just a park. How else would it hold Furies?

She can barely hold back her own Fury, and hers isn’t awake, not like Gabriela and Patricia. But the Park can, and does, and will.

Even if someday it has to hold back all three of them.

-

Her father introduces her to Señor Alejandro Ortiz about a year after they lose her mother. Sr Ortiz can see the things she can see, the things her father won’t, the things that are part of why her mother isn’t there any more.

(In retrospect, she thinks her father must have known Alejandro before her mother turned into a Fury, but put off introducing them as long as possible, hoping that if he hid her from magic she’d also be hidden from the Curse.

There’s no hiding from her Curse.)

She tells Sr Ortiz about all the things she sees, and he tells her their names so she doesn’t get scared. She doesn’t talk about her mother or her father or school or the salt that sometimes burns behind her eyes, but he shows her pictures of his brand new baby grand-daughters anyway, as if she had been a good little girl and talked to the new grown-up with the manners her mother had taught her.

She thinks if she could like anyone, she’d like Sr Ortiz.

But she can’t.

She rips up her favorite stuffed rabbit after he’s gone, and even at six she knows not to think about how cute his little Ana and Amelia are, knows not to remember the way her mother had asked her if she’d like a little brother or sister someday, knows not to think about anything at all except how the stuffing feels against her skin once she’s gotten it all out of the rabbit.

Her father doesn’t replace her rabbit.

He does get her a stuffed bear and a soft floppy puppy, and she doesn’t know how to tell him that those won’t work because she doesn’t care about them.

He also invites Sr Ortiz back, and that’s better.

Sr Ortiz brings her books about magic that have more words than pictures in them, and every time she sounds out a new word and learns what it means, it feels like a bridge over the thing inside her that scares her father and drove her mother away, and she’s so relieved she almost cries, even though that’s the one thing she can’t ever ever do.

-

It’s almost another year later when Sr Ortiz tells her that she can call him Alejandro, just like another grown-up, and she says his name in her head over and over and over again so she doesn’t ever try to say anything else, doesn’t think of him with any words that might be dangerous, might sound like family.

That’s also when he takes her to the Park.

They don’t go in. He stops them on the wrong side of the black metal fence, grips her hand tight, and asks her what she sees.

“The fence keeps going, all the way up to the sky.” It turns white as it goes, then clear, yet somehow not invisible.

“It goes down into the ground, too, can you feel it?”

She shakes her head, then stops.

She can feel something, and not like she usually feels the magic Alejandro shows her; it’s not bright or warm or cold or sparkling, it’s gross.

She makes a face, and Alejandro hums. “That’s from your Curse.”

She looks up at him in shock, tightening her fingers around his hand. They’ve talked around what happened to her mother, the grandmother she can’t remember, the thing that lurks somewhere inside her, but they don’t say it out loud like that.

“This Park has very special magic in it, designed to fight your Curse. It feels bad to the Curse, but it won’t hurt you.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

Alejandro leans further down, shifts so both his hands are holding both of hers, a glint of gold flashing in one of his eyes. “If ever your Curse feels too big, too scary, if that salt feeling in your eyes or your throat gets worse, I need you to come here as quickly as you can and get inside this fence, all right?”

She swallows.

She doesn’t think about her mother or magic or fire or explosions or yelling or her father’s voice or her mother’s eyes or her rabbit or anything else.

She nods.

Alejandro smiles, but it’s sad enough she has to look away as he straightens up.

-

She takes to chewing on the floppy puppy’s ears when she’s reading her magic books; it distracts her from the salt just enough that her throat doesn’t burn, no matter how many words she figures out, how many different ways she learns to cover up the salt and hide it even from herself.

No matter how much it hurts to hope that some day she might be smart enough that things could be better.

She doesn’t think about before, slowly loses all memory of baking with her mother or singing with her father, barely even dreams of the warm flicker of the candles they don’t light any more. She thinks about the shape of magic and mythology and wards and spells, and when she gets too tired, when she can’t find any more words, she gets into a fight at school or breaks something in her room or screams into her pillow until the anger burns the salt away.

Until the day she looks at the still-unnamed puppy and wants to hug it instead of read with it or toss it behind her; she cares enough that it would work now if she needed to tear him apart like she had her rabbit.

Caring makes the salt burn in her chest, which is safer than her eyes, but still bad. She puts the puppy up on a shelf and starts chewing on her pencils when she reads. No one ever gets that attached to a pencil.

(A habit she never does quite break, even after eating ink a couple times when she forgets she’s got a pen instead of a pencil between her fingers. It’s at its worst when she’s Not Thinking about Ricky Matsui twenty years later, and she ends up biting straight through half her stash of pencils, all the things she can’t feel finding what escape they can via splintered yellow wood and graphite.)

No one takes her back to the Park, so she has to sneak there after school if she wants to see it, if she wants to see how all the new words she knows work in the real world.

She doesn’t go inside.

She walks around the fence, pays attention to when and where it feels the worst. She keeps her head down most of the time, looks at the sidewalk and her shoes and the base of the fence, traces the edges of white and clear and magic and space, compares them to the shapes and colors of the bridges and barriers she’s built inside her.

She’s very careful, only looking at the edges of things, lifting her head only when she knows she’ll see out, keeping an eye on traffic and people and addresses so she always knows where she is.

Always knows who she is and why she’s here.

She never looks over the fence into the Park itself.

She doesn’t want to see the things that make the magic move, doesn’t want to admit she knows why it changes, knows exactly who is in the cage she’s so carefully measuring.

-

She only hears her father lose his usual cool control once in the entire fourteen years he protects her from her Curse.

She’s not supposed to hear it at all, but she’s coming home early from the library and the heavy weight of his voice escapes out their window as she walks toward the door to their building. He isn’t yelling. It’s low and distinct and almost vicious. (She almost doesn’t recognize it.)

“You think she doesn’t love you too much already? She’s barely managing not to care as it is, and now you want to show her a life she cannot have?”

She can only barely hear Alejandro reply, his voice softer, slower, calmer. “Too little is as bad as too much, my friend. She has to have reasons to try.”

“Perhaps, but what you’re suggesting? Too far.” Her father is not placated. “Gabriela never would have told me about you if she didn’t think you could do this.”

“And you think I’m proving her wrong?” Alejandro’s accent is thicker than usual, but he doesn’t sound angry or upset, unlike Esther, who is not at all prepared for this and is biting her lip so hard she thinks it might be bleeding, but she can’t think about that.

She turns around and goes to the Park, counting by tens then twenties then ones then fives in her head, switches to listing every magical axiom she’s learned when that doesn’t work, lingering over each syllable, word by word, over and over until there’s nothing else inside her.

She finds a quiet stretch of fence and sits, back pressed to the iron and a kleenex pressed to her mouth until nothing hurts. She never asks what Alejandro had wanted to do, or say. She never brings it up with either of them.

(Someday, after the Curse, she thinks about all the things she lost, all the parts of Alejandro’s life she couldn’t ever see, the wife she never met, the questions she never asked, the stories they never shared, the house she never visited, and she systematically breaks every drawer in her dresser.

She only stops before destroying her nightstand because she’s crying too hard to keep going.)

-

She doesn’t go inside the Park until the day after her high school graduation. (It’s not like anyone invited her to their graduation parties. You have to be friends for that, and she doesn’t do friends.)

She sees her mother and her grandmother. They don't seem to recognize their own names. They call her Daughter of Sorrow and their eyes are blank and their voices are wrong and their Curse rises up inside her worse than it has since she was five.

She strangles it down and on her way out she kicks a bench and breaks a toe.

She’s still shaking when she gets to Gramercy. Alejandro takes one look at her, drags her to St. Owens, and introduces her to Kingston Brown. The Curse settles as Kingston heals her foot, as if even it can’t quite lash out at the Vox Populi himself. It’s still churning away inside her, but it’s not so close to overflowing its banks any more.

She thanks him, and leaves, and doesn’t cry.

-

She goes to college. (She continues to not celebrate holidays or make friends.) She catalogues magazines for a work-study at the library, which makes it easier to dig through the archives for any weird mythological nonsense that might not actually be complete nonsense, studies magic in her so called free-time, and runs around the perimeter of Tompkins Square Park more often than she’d prefer to admit, rattling the bars and checking the locks, however metaphorically.

She doesn’t go back inside until Christmas.

They’re not even Christian, but seeing her mother and grandmother on Rosh Hashanah, standing in a Park that doesn’t smell like any of the food her family used to make, (that she has never once tried to make on her own), seems like it might actually kill her, so.

So she buys them Christmas presents, goes to the Park to give them said presents, and tells them she loves them and she hates their fucking curse and that she’d wish them a Happy New Year but that would probably be bad for everyone else.

And then she goes and finds a Christmas Market and listens to carols and stares too long at the mulled wine and mead that she doesn’t dare drink. She counts her steps as she walks back and forth and back and forth until she’s tired enough her mind is empty, and she goes home to her equally cold and empty dorm room.

-

She gets into a fight at a party on New Year’s Eve, lets her anger free in a way she hasn’t since she started to understand the consequences of her favorite coping mechanism in middle school.

It’s stupid, she knows she's over-reacting, there are too many drunk people in too small a space, and Esther feels the tide rising in her chest and throat and eyes and fingertips, so close to overflowing her carefully constructed scaffolding of spells, so close to breaking free and drowning the whole damn house with her.

She chokes it back, but when some asshole gets in her face about getting her a drink she breaks his nose with her fist and goes home with blood splatters on her shirt and a white-knuckle grip on all the magic she didn't, doesn't, can't let out.

Her New Year’s Resolution is to not let that happen again. Lashing out in anger to avoid being sad isn’t much better for the people around her than a Fury, not when she can shoot lightning from her hands.

And she’s got really good aim.

She finds a bar that will hire her, learns to be personable enough for decent tips so she isn’t living exclusively on ramen, joins a couple student activist groups for things that are important to her intellectually but not too close to her locked-up heart, makes a point of going to study groups and midnight taco runs and starts saving names and birthdates into her phone so even if she’s still lonely she’s not quite so alone.

So sometimes she can breathe, and laugh at stupid jokes, and forget she’s angry for a little while. She even figures out how to be just the right sort of mean that gets her laid for occasional stress relief without anyone ever trying to catch too many feelings.

Her father goes over her finances and housing and taxes with her one last time, and then he leaves.

They knew it was coming, they’d planned for it, so it’s almost a relief not to be guarded by the person who knew her best, the person she couldn’t risk knowing at all.

She doesn’t tell Alejandro when her father leaves. She never tells him about the fight on New Year’s Eve, or the almost-friends she’s making. They talk about magic and Gramercy and her studies, he pushes her to spend more time at the Clinton Hill Chantry, and she knows he’s offering her a place after she graduates even though he doesn’t ever say so out loud.

There’s a lot they never say out loud.

-

She stops her perimeter runs. She only ever goes near the Park for her Christmas visit , once a year. It’s important and symbolic but not so personal that she can’t bear it.

Part of her hates them both when she sees them.

Not just the Curse, but them, who they were before they fell, who they let themselves love. They both had daughters, even knowing what was going to happen. At five she'd been sad that her mother was gone, but she didn’t have it in her to consider how it happened, what it meant. But now? Now she looks at them and thinks about Furies punishing betrayal, and what else can she call what they did, building connections and families even knowing, every step of the way, what they were risking?

Isn’t she exactly the betrayal that helped them both fall?

She simmers in an unholy combination of spite and pride and guilt and loneliness underneath her determination to show them up, to prove them wrong, to be better than they were, to fix what they broke.

To be smarter than they were, to do what they couldn’t.

But smart isn’t enough.

She’s too smart not to know she'll fall, eventually. Too smart not to see the end coming but too fucking pissed about it all to stop trying.

Sometimes she thinks she’s carrying all the Rage her mother hadn't for the thirty years before she fell.

Sometimes she thinks she’ll never let it go.

But anger isn’t enough either, it burns and wears her down and she can feel the flicker of everything else in the embers it leaves behind.

She loves her family, somewhere deep inside the scaffolding of self-control and research and magic she’s built inside and around herself. She has to love them. Alejandro was right, all those years ago, when he told her father that too little was just as dangerous as too much.

Furies punish betrayal, and she refuses to betray her own heart, small and guarded though it is. She loves them, and hopes Alejandro will still love her after she falls. They’re closer than either of them can admit, and she let that closeness build over the years; she’s just as selfish as her mother, her grandmother. It will hurt him almost as much as losing Ana or Amelia, when she loses herself to the Curse. But she can’t take it back, wouldn’t even if she could.

So she balances, barely, an endless tightrope above anger and love, hope and denial, and all it will take is one tiny slip, and then a very long fall.

She’s so damn tired.

But she isn’t done.

And next Christmas, she’ll remind her Furies that they haven’t won.

Not yet.

[flannelstains]

𝓐bout 𝓜e

❛ 𝘰𝘰𝘩, 𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘢, 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ❜

⋆.࿐ hello !! my name is sienna, and i’m from california. my shifting journey started late two-thousand-nineteen, but i always kind of knew about shifting. i’m currently sixteen, and i’ve shifted once ( now twice !! ) before for about five minutes. i’m a pisces, and i’m under the sapphic umbrella. currently i’m trying to figure out exactly where under that umbrella.

i grew up extremely christian, and now i’m agnostic. my mom is my best friend, and knows i have different views on this crazy world— she’s also agnostic.

i couldn’t describe myself if i had a gun to my head, the trigger would be pulled because i would sit there pondering for hours while the metal was pressed against my temple.

from that analogy i hope you got a good idea on how you would describe me. i feel like i’ve always been a little different from the crowd, and maybe that’s why shifting found me, because i feel so at peace now that i can be myself throughout any reality.

i’ve always been called an ‘old soul’ since i was a child, and that really resonates with me currently, since in various realities i’m connected to, i’m older than i am in this reality.

❛ 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘥. ❜

⋆.࿐ since it is hard for me to describe myself through words, i’ve decided to give examples of songs i adore and feel really describe me.

i. sweet carolina, lana del rey.

ii. cynical one, tv girl.

iii. sienna, the marías.

iv. skinny love, bon iver.

v. writer in the dark, lorde.

vi. 104 degrees, slaughter beach, dog.

vii. bag of bones, mitski.

viii. pier 4, clairo.

ix. elementary school, delaney bailey.

x. sparrow, big thief.

xi. beaches, beabadoobee.

xii. the killing moon, pavement.

xiii. letter to god (1974), halsey.

xiv. bigmouth strikes again, the smiths.

xv. my girlfriend, tv girl.

xvi. sandy, alex g.

xvii. in my feelings, lana del rey.

xviii. not a lot, just forever, adrianne lenker.

xix. angel, alice phoebe lou.

xx. angelina, lizzy mcalpine.

⊱ plus many more..

❛ 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ❜

⋆.࿐ i am an infj !! and before anyone goes on blabbing about how they’re rare, and im faking, or i’m probably just an infp, i promise you, i am an infj. and the only reason i stand by this, is because i’ve taken the these about five times over the span of two years and i’ve only gotten infp once, and all the other times i was an infj.

so, being on the topic of an infj, i’ll list the characters / people i am like !

i. lisa simpson. ( the simpsons )

ii. izuku midoriya. ( my hero academia )

iii. amy pond. ( doctor who )

iv. newt scamander. ( fantastic beasts and where to find them )

v. lexi howard. ( euphoria )

vi. daenerys targaryen. ( game of thrones )

vii. loki laufeyson. ( marvel )

viii. diane nguyen. ( bojack horseman )

ix. kyle broflovski. ( south park )

x. james. ( the end of the fucking world )

xi. aragorn. ( lord of the rings )

xii. remus lupin. ( harry potter )

xiii. jeanne d’arc. ( joan of arc )

xiv. luka couffaine. ( miraculous )

xv. esther coleman. ( orphan )

xvi. andrew hozier-byrne. ( hozier )

xvii. sally. ( the nightmare before christmas )

xviii. glenn rhee. ( the walking dead )

xix. clarke griffin. ( the 100 )

xx. marinette dupain-cheng. ( miraculous )

⊱ plus many more..

❛ 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. ❜

⋆.࿐ i hope that summed up kind of who i am, and how i view the world. i’ve been on tumblr for about a year now, but i haven’t really ever posted until recently, so i’m still navigating the app.

i will make more posts about my journey, along with my opinions and views, including some questions, but for now i just am slowly warming up to be a tumblr poster !!

WARNING !!! i have opinions. also, i’ve been told by almost everyone i meet that i am odd, so if i act strange, just tune it out. smile and nod guys, just smile and nod.

[lovelylogans]

the danes family christmas

or: the danes-sanders-prince-tamura-cabrera-key-bowes christmas. but danes family christmas flows a bit easier, doesn’t it?

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, mentions of divorce, mentions of sickness, alcohol consumption, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: patton/virgil, logan/roman

word count: 5,876

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic. happy christmas, a belated happy hanukkah, and a happy early kwanzaa! if you don’t celebrate any of those, then happy friday! this is essentially a “where are they now” snapshot of the danes family, who were all introduced in last year’s christmas fic. i hope you enjoy!

⁂

it starts when virgil hangs up the phone at the diner—the landline against the wall right by the entry to the kitchen, not his cellphone—looking strangely happy. and, considering there were only ever two kinds of phone calls that phone received, one of which being business calls—

“mom or dad?” patton asks, as he sits at the counter.

“my mom,” virgil says. “freddie finally got the flights finalized, they’re coming for christmas.”

patton claps in excitement. “that’s great!”

“so that’s everyone,” virgil says brightly. “all five of us, plus spouses and partners and kids, ‘cept—”

and then he stops himself, tilts his head, and asks, “hey, what are your christmas plans?”

⁂

and so it begins—patton negotiates them out of attending any sanders’ christmas celebrations, in exchange promising to bring himself and logan and the new beaus (as his mother had called them) to a cocktail get-together on new year’s eve. 

and then virgil had caught on to the fact them all leaving would leave roman and isadora as the only ones in their little cobbled-together family in sideshire for christmas, and freddie had, too, and immediately gotten on the phone to beg isadora to come along, so that meant crafting an elaborate plan for a road trip on christmas after the matinee christmas morning performance of the nutcracker, which is where they are now: all five of them in virgil’s car, suitcases packed away in the trunk, on their way down to the elder danes’ family home.

oh, and in the middle of all these preparations, not one but two romantic unions were formed, so. it’s been a bit of a busy couple of months.

“okay,” roman says, from where he’s stuffed in the middle seat between logan and his mom, virgil driving and patton attempting to play at navigator, “run me through the entire family tree again, it’s been a minute since i’ve seen everyone.”

so logan opens his phone, scrolls for a little bit, then clicks on a photo they must have taken the last time they were all together in a big group, and zooms in before he hands the phone over to roman to hold. roman’s mom peers over his shoulder.

“so, we’ll start with the danes’,” logan says, and taps each of their faces as he goes—”meredith, mark, wyatt, esther, silas, winifred, and of course, virgil.”

“right.”

he then proceeds to tap the woman and man flanking wyatt. “adam bowes and alexandria cabrera, but she goes by lexa—”

isadora tilts her head at lexa. “i remember her. isn’t she colombian?”

“her parents immigrated from ecuador,” virgil corrects, “but she studied abroad for a bit in colombia, so you’re probably remembering that.”

“—they’re wyatt’s partners,” logan continues, and points to the children in front of them. “nicola’s oldest, she’s fourteen. then there’s wesley, who goes by wes, he’s twelve. is their dad going to be there?” he asks virgil.

“no, he’s off with his girlfriend,” virgil says, and scowls a little. patton thinks he's clearly about to say good riddance—he isn’t particularly a fan of lexa’s first husband. none of the adults are, really, but none of them ever breathed a word about it in front of the kids.

“all right, so i don’t have to find a picture of him,” logan says. “then there’s elizabeth who goes by ellie, eight, and abigail who goes by abby, five.”

roman mumbles names under his breath, tapping each of their photos, before he adjusts the picture. “right. so, essie.”

“you know annabelle, her wife,” logan says, pointing to the black woman with her arm slung over essie’s shoulders. “they were foster parents for a time, so they adopted michael who goes by mike or mikey, he’s twelve, and his sister sophia. she’s seven. and they also adopted theodore who goes by teddy, he’s eight—”

“—nine,” virgil corrects, “his birthday was last month—”

“right, he’s nine, they adopted him three years ago.”

more repetition of names to himself, and then roman adjusts the photo.

“silas,” he prompts.

“his wife, moira,” logan says, pointing to the redhead beside him. “and the twins, emma and devon, they’re ten.”

“they just had a baby in august, too,” virgil says. “meredith junior, but they’re calling her red, for now, so that no one confuses her and my mom. you can guess why, it’s pretty obvious she’s taking after moira already. it’ll be easy to spot her, she’s the only baby.”

“and freddie,” isadora says, craning her neck to look at the photo. “how long has it been since she’s come back for christmas?”

“at least a couple years just for christmas, but she’s visited a couple times,” virgil says. “still, it’ll be nice to see her and ryu and the kids.”

“akira who goes by kira, and nikko,” logan provides for roman. “they’re twins, age six. and sayuri, but she goes by lily sometimes—”

“how’d that happen?” roman says, looking to virgil for help.

“sayuri means ‘lily,’” virgil says. “‘little lily,’ i think, but i can’t remember the exact translation. she’s three.”

“and—where do they live?” roman says.

“tokyo,” patton says, twisting to look at virgil. “they moved last year, didn’t they?”

“that’s right,” virgil confirms. “they lived in kyoto for a while, but freddie got a pretty good job offer, so. tokyo it is.”

“and then there’s us,” logan says. “i assume you don’t need a photo, name, or age breakdown for any of us.”

roman snorts, and says, “no, i guess i not.” he blows out a breath, before he scrolls back over, and says, “right, okay. remind me what everyone’s jobs are?”

and so the rest of the car ride passes, recalling the last times they’ve all seen various members of the danes family and passing on stories of visits past.

it’s about to be a marathon of a christmas.

⁂

by the time they’re pulling up to the danes’ house—windows down, because the elder danes’ live in a much warmer state and everyone seemed to have a simultaneous, unspoken agreement on the need to thaw from the brutally cold and snowy winter they’d been having so far—virgil’s leg is bouncing in excitement, and patton reaches across to put a hand on virgil’s, smiling at him.

“are we the last ones getting here?” he asks.

virgil nods his head. “miraculously, even wyatt and adam’s weird hours have lucked out, but adam’s exact words were don’t hold your breath—”

“of course, of course,” patton murmurs, because he probably should have guessed the orthopedic surgeon and the spinal surgeon would have some funky hours.

“—but i think everyone should be here? at least i didn’t hear that they got delayed, so.”

“please tell me we’re almost there,” roman groans.

“we’ll get there when we get there!” virgil and patton say simultaneously, and they both laugh at each other quoting the incredibles as roman groans louder.

patton’s glad to have the brief distraction of a pixar reference; as they’ve gotten nearer and nearer to the danes’ house, he’s felt a knot in his stomach grow bigger and bigger.

he’s been spending holidays with the danes’ since logan was born, usually seeing at least one of them once a year—christmases, easters, family get togethers, he and logan have tagged along for years and years. 

he has a feeling that virgil and his parents would argue with the phrasing of tagged along, but he can’t help it—even if he knows he’s uncle patton to all the kids, and he knows logan refers to all the various danes progeny as his cousins, and he knows he and logan have long since received the food-based nicknames everyone in the family receives upon being born in and growing up in the family and at marriage, but—

well. he can’t help it, sometimes.

but now, he isn’t just tagging along. he’s the latest romantic partner in the family. he has started dating their youngest son, their baby brother, their beloved bachelor uncle. 

he can’t help but wonder if it’ll be like an entirely new dynamic. because he’s seen the way the latest romantic partners are introduced—he’s long since gotten used to the danes’ fond squabbling with each other, but it turns into a whole new level of teasing when they bring along a date.

“we are,” logan says, and points. “there it is.”

virgil examines the number of cars—he probably should have expected the full driveway—and pulls over to park on the side of the road, roman immediately demanding that either logan or his mother get out of the car right now or else he will crawl over them—

virgil and patton’s eyes meet, and patton smiles at him before they both turn to open their own car doors, roman getting out of the car hot on logan’s heels.

and then the danes’ front door opens, light spilling onto the lawn, and children barrel out of the house, almost all of them yelling at the top of their lungs, and virgil says “oof!” as he’s plowed into by three little girls, clinging at his legs, and virgil immediately swings the nearest up into his arms.

“oh, hello, everyone!” virgil says, beaming, looking years younger as ellie clings to his neck, and patton grins at him even as abby notices he has a free set of arms and immediately demands a hug, and patton can’t help but oblige, lifting her up onto his hip, distantly pleased that he still can carry her, because goodness, she’s gotten so tall!

“girls!” someone at the door calls, and patton looks up at lexa in the doorway with a grin. “let your uncles get inside before you tackle them, please!”

“aw, mom!” ellie grumbles, even as virgil’s setting her down and grinning apologetically at lexa, a hand resting on sophia’s hair.

“sorry, lex!” virgil calls, and pats ellie on the shoulder, murmuring something quietly to ellie and sophia ear that makes them both grin, brown eyes sparkling; patton follows his lead, setting abby down.

“uncle patty—” she begins to whine.

“i know, i know,” he says, crouching down to tug lightly at her braided dirty blonde hair, to make her giggle. “but, tell you what. if you listen to your mom, how about you and me sneak some cookies from your grandma, huh?”

abby brightens, and immediately rushes off, right on her sister’s and cousin’s heels. 

“do you need any help?” adam says, his head popping out from behind lexa.

“no, we’re all right, thanks!” roman calls, isadora already shutting the trunk, all of their bags unloaded and just waiting to be carried inside—patton doubles back for his, but virgil’s already swinging his bag over his shoulder before patton can do anything about it.

“i could—” patton begins, but virgil leans down and kisses him before he can say anything about it. virgil grins even wider when patton just blinks at him, half-forgetting what he was saying.

“i got it,” virgil says reassuringly, “honestly, we’re gonna need someone to open the door, so,” and patton huffs.

“fine,” he grumbles, pretending to be put out, as the part of him that was raised with things like gentlemen should open the door for you, and carry things that are heavy, and care for you in general is sending butterflies fluttering in his tummy. because, one, virgil is being a gentleman, but also, patton has an opportunity to be a gentleman.

the things that give him gender euphoria are so weird, honestly.

but patton trots ahead and opens the door for virgil (and his son, and isadora, and roman) and is nearly bowled over by a wave of noise.

the sound of about twenty-four people all calling hello to their brother slash in-law and his weird little accrued pool of family all calling their hellos back tends to do that, patton guesses.

but once everyone’s funneled their way through the door, patton tries to close it; before he’s even fully shut the door behind them, though, abby’s clinging to his leg, grinning up at him.

“cookies now?” she asks.

patton tousles her hair. “gotta set up our alibi, squirt. we’re doing this secretly. it’s a mission.”

abby’s eyes brighten. “like spies?”

“exactly like spies,” patton says, in a hushed tone as if he’s being very quiet and secretive, as if he isn’t fully aware that her mother is keeping an eye on them and folding her lip under her teeth to keep from laughing, even as she’s hugging virgil hello.

abby scuttles off, though, as one of her other parents approaches to give patton a friendly, one-armed hug, seeming to fear the potential of revealing their secret mission.

“hey, patton,” adam says easily. “good to see you’re recovered from the pneumonia, congrats on romancing virgil,” patton blinks rapidly and attempts to come up with a response to that, but adam’s already continuing, “and try to keep her from taking too many, yeah? she’s already been spoiled rotten by her gramps today.”

“can do,” patton says, and so begins the shuffle around the room of saying hello to everyone; the kids are all in one section, already, seemingly preoccupied by various board games, but nicola’s unfolded herself from the group to go up to logan already; the pair of them are closest in age, and they’re also quite the pair of brainiacs, so they’ve been close ever since lexa and the kids came to the first family gathering years ago.

“i despise operator algebra,” she’s telling him.

“well, good thing you aren’t planning on going into quantum field theory, then,” logan responds, and patton loses the plot of that conversation because he’s nearly bumped off his feet.

“sorry!” freddie squeaks, red high in her pale cheeks and a glass of meredith’s near-lethal spiked eggnog in her hand; he suspects it to be the culprit for any uncharacteristic clumsiness and he pulls her into a hug even as he’s laughing out forgiveness.

“heard about you and virgil,” freddie says, “finally.”

“oh—um,” patton stammers, trying his hardest not to blush.

“thrilled to have you, really,” freddie says, bumping into him again, this time purposefully. “and, hey! heard you got sick, you’re all better now, right?”

“right,” he says, then, curiously, “um, how was the trip?” 

“have you ever had to handle six-year-old twins on a trans-pacific trip?” she says, and patton winces in sympathy; as polite as the twins are, being raised with the japanese code of etiquette, they are still freddie’s kids, and therefore also incredibly rambunctious.

“my condolences,” patton tells her, then, to her husband who’s hovering silently over her shoulder, he attempts to get his way through saying long time no see in japanese to ryu, who’s been trying to teach them all conversational bits of japanese for years (mostly because they’d all insisted; they did the same to lexa, too. meredith’s parents had learned to greet mark’s family in their native italian, so it had become something of a family tradition to learn at least a little of the language of their spouse.)

“ohisashiburi desu,” ryu enunciates for him, and patton groans. 

“i thought i had it this time!”

“you were close,” ryu says, which patton thinks is mostly out of politeness, but he’ll accept it anyways. “sayuri, say hello!”

he glances down, then, in time to notice a three-year-old clinging to ryu’s pantleg, just barely peeking out from behind him, the most visible thing being her near-black eyes, shiny and wide.

sayuri ducks out from behind ryu to bow to patton.

“and hello to you too!” patton says, keeping his voice as soft and friendly as he can.

sayuri looks up at ryu, who nods in approval, murmuring something to her in japanese, and she scampers back behind him, clinging once again to his pant leg.

“sorry,” freddie says, not sounding very sorry at all. “lily’s the shy one.”

“oh, it’s all right,” patton says. “it must have been a big day for her, traveling and seeing everyone again and all.”

“that it is,” freddie says, then, to ryu, “d’you think she needs a nap?”

patton takes that as his cue to resume greeting everyone else; he ducks briefly into the kitchen (where abby is, very unsubtly, eyeing the platter of cookies on the counter) and can’t help but coo at the sight that greets him.

“aw, hello,” he murmurs. 

moira, her red hair pulled back into a ponytail and a smidge frizzy, looking haggard in a way that only parents to babies ever seem to look, smiles up at him. “hi, patton.”

“hi, patton,” silas echoes awkwardly, from where he’s washing dishes at the sink.

“hi, silas, hi moira,” he says; usually, he’d be all caught up in the amount of fondness he has for moira, distinctly unbalanced in comparison to his relationship with silas, which is still a touch thorny, even after all this time, but, well. there’s a new member of the family to introduce himself to. 

“this must be meredith junior!”

meredith junior is preoccupied with drinking from a bottle, and does not respond to him, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

“that she is,” moira says proudly. 

“oh, she’s beautiful,” patton says warmly, looking at her and feeling all warm and happy because Baby Feelings, and it reminds him of logan when he was at that age; meredith junior (red, he remembers virgil saying) is also a small baby, like logan was, her hair downy and just as red as her mother’s. 

moira smiles at her. “yeah, she is. you wanna hold her later?”

“later,” patton repeats, putting up his hands. “i know how important feeding time is. i was just ducking in to say hi, get a drink,” he directs a wink at abby, who attempts to wink back at him, but she hasn’t really gotten the hang of that yet and so she just blinks at him with extra emphasis.

“eggnog’s in the fridge,” silas mutters. “solo cups should have a sharpie next to it, for names.”

“thanks, silas,” patton says, and ducks around him; he ends up pouring himself a bit of cranberry punch, instead, and obligingly writes PATTON on his cup in large letters. then, with a level of slightly overexaggerated sneakiness that goes unnoticed by moira, preoccupied with the baby, and silas, preoccupied with the dishes, patton snatches a stack of ginger snaps, which are just as good now as they were sixteen years ago. abby jumps up and down, pressing her hands over her mouth to keep from making any noise. 

“well, i’m out of your hair.”

“we’re talking later!” moira calls after him, “i’m thrilled, i want to hear all about you and virgil!”

patton tries his very hardest not to blush, and ducks out of the kitchen instead. he splits the cookies in half, handing the other half to abby.

“thanks, uncle patty!”

“you’re welcome,” patton says. “hey, go give one to your sister, okay?”

“okay!” she says, and speeds off across the room. patton spies her handing a cookie to ellie and briefly tugging at nicola’s jeans to get her attention, giving her one too, and patton smiles after her, before he turns to scan the rest of the room for people he hasn’t said hi to yet.

he is immediately face-to-face with essie and annabelle, who beam at him in unison.

“patton!”

“annabelle, essie!” patton says, hugging the pair of them. “it’s great to see you!”

“great to see you too!” essie says. “we’ll have to get together sometime soon, you and virgil and us—”

“—we can do a double-date!” annabelle adds excitedly.

“—we can come to you, or you can catch the train down to us,” essie continues. 

“oh—” patton says, a little flustered. “um—good! that’s good! that sounds—”

“good?” annabelle says, grinning, clearly very close to laughing at him.

looking for something in the room to change the subject, he glances around and notices, for the first time, two missing members of the family.

“where’s mark and meredith?”

“oh, mom ran out to the corner store for something, i think dad’s on the porch showing off the grill he got for the neighbors,” essie says dismissively, before she reaches over to squeeze his arm. “seriously. so thrilled for the pair of you, we have to do dinner soon.”

“sounds good,” patton says honestly, because it does; getting together with the pair of them, plus mikey, teddy, and sophia, sounds really good.

“i’m gonna go say hi to the kids,” he adds.

“okay!” essie says.

“we’ll catch up later,” annabelle says. it only sounds a little bit like a threat.

he doesn’t even really need to step too far to encounter the kids corner.

“hi, kids!” he says.

“hi, uncle patton,” the kids all drone, not tearing their eyes away; it seems the other board games have fallen to the wayside, the lot of them watching what seems to be the main event with bated breath.

“hello, patton,” wyatt echoes serenely, a pair of tweezers in hand as he observes the operation board. “i congratulate your immune system on its strength in overcoming the pneumococcal pneumonia, and i congratulate you on entering courtship with my brother.”

patton fails, this time, in trying not to blush, which probably wouldn’t be seen by any of the kids, anyways—“c’mon, uncle wyatt!” teddy urges from the sidelines—and wyatt flawlessly maneuvers the tweezers, and very slowly, very carefully, removes the wishbone without bumping any of the walls, and half the kids groan.

“i should have known better than to start this,” wes mutters under his breath, accepting the tweezers from his stepfather. “hi, uncle patton.”

“hiya, wes,” patton says, amused; at least once a year, someone challenged either of the surgeons in the family to a game of operation, and it always ended up with a crowd gathered around like this. “doing okay so far?”

“i’ve buzzed twice,” wes sighs, and squints at the card. “oh, great. i’ve got the funny bone. okay—”

he readjusts his grip, and patton takes a few steps back, so as to not distract him any more than he needs to be distracted, taking a second to look in on nicola and logan—who are deep into conversation about something called hermitian adjoint with excited expressions on their faces, and roman looks as confused as patton feels—before someone taps him on the shoulder.

“doing okay?”

patton turns to smile up at virgil.

“doing fine,” he promises, and sets his cup down on the nearest surface so he can reach out to correct virgil’s collar. “have you said hi to everyone?”

“yeah, just about,” virgil says, then, “um, they haven’t said anything to you about—?”

“oh, y’know,” patton says with a jerk of his head. “moira says she’s thrilled, essie wants to get all together for dinner, freddie said finally, wyatt congratulated the strength of my immune system and my success in courting you, et cetera, et cetera.”

virgil snorts, ducking his head and rubbing sheepishly at the nape of his neck. “guess i probably should’ve warned you ‘bout that, huh?”

“nah, i knew it’d probably happen,” he teases. “you’re forgetting i was at dinner when freddie brought the news of her elopement and the brand-new husband none of us had ever heard of before.”

“still can’t believe she did that,” virgil says with a disbelieving shake of his head.

patton laughs a little, too, before he says, “i was expecting it a little, i guess—i mean, you’ve got four older siblings, i was a little nervous there’d probably be a bit of hazing to go through, now that i’m a boyfriend.”

“you didn’t mention that,” virgil says with a frown. “i can tell them to lay off, if you—”

patton waves him off, even as he still feels the tight knot in his stomach.

“it’s okay,” he says, and it is okay, it’s just nerve-wracking, “i’ve gotten through the first of it, it’s okay. just, y’know. i’m a little nervous to talk to your parents, i guess.”

“they love you,” virgil says immediately. “they’re delighted about this, i promise, they told me so.”

“virge?”

“yeah?” he asks, a protective expression still on his face. patton takes both his hands in his own, looking up at him with a very serious expression on his face.

“remember your siblings teasing me when you have to sit through an emily-and-richard dinner,” he says, “and then we can say we’re nearly even.”

virgil’s lip quirks up. “nearly?”

“well,” patton says, “you’re probably gonna have to go to a few friday night dinners, so i’m definitely gonna owe you for that more than you owe me for this.”

virgil grimaces at the mention of friday night dinners looming in his future like the ghost of christmas yet to come.

“think happy thoughts?” patton offers, with an apologetic grin on his face.

“what thought is happy enough to get me through that?”

patton pretends to think about it, tilting his head back and forth, before he offers in a faux-innocent tone, “egging their car on easter?”

a slightly goofy grin breaks out on virgil’s face, and patton laughs at the sight of it. 

“well, if i must,” virgil says. “might even have to refresh that memory with a repeat performance.”

“don’t you dare,” patton says, in a tone entirely too sappy for what he’s saying.

“or what?” virgil says, grinning down at him, and he’s so stinkin’ cute that patton can’t help but rise onto his tippy toes to kiss the grin right off his face.

their lips barely brush before the hollering starts—there’s a wolf-whistle in there somewhere, but mostly things along the line of “EW, uncle VIRGIL, kissing is GROSS,” and “hey, hey, hands off my baby brother!”—and patton breaks away from virgil with a nervous giggle, blushing, fully aware that if most of the people in the room weren’t looking at him before, they certainly were now. patton finds himself unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“oh, c’mon,” freddie says, grinning, sayuri in her arms and looking quite close to nodding off to sleep, “it’s about time, now that they’re dating.”

“finally,” essie adds, not quite under her breath, then—

“wait.”

patton turns, then, to where the kids have gathered in the corner; mikey, essie and annabelle’s oldest son, is staring at them with large brown eyes.

“wait,” mikey repeats, “what do you mean, now they’re dating?”

“you weren’t dating before?” his brother teddy says, sounding equal parts confused and indignant.

“no, we weren’t dating before,” virgil says. “but we—we are. now. so.”

teddy still looks puzzled.

“well, we loved each other for a very long time,” patton explains, because for as smart as all the kids are, teddy is nine years old, and therefore not quite fully aware of the complexities of adult relationships, “and we told each other that recently. so. now we’re dating, but we’ve loved each other for much longer.”

“well, that’s okay then,” teddy decides, and patton can’t help but snort.

anyone still staring at the pair of them gets distracted by the sound of a door stuck in its lock, before it suddenly bursts open, bringing with it a rush of warm outdoor air and the clunking of a cane hitting the hardwood.

“damn door keeps sticking,” mark grumbles under his breath, looking up and taking a moment to scan the room before his eyes brighten. “virgil! when did you sneak in, bunny?”

meredith pokes her head around his shoulder, eyes bright; she's carrying a shopping bag in one arm that emma and devon, silas' girls, scuttle up and take off her hands, ferrying it to the kitchen for her.

"ten or so minutes ago," virgil says, crossing the room, grinning; unspoken, both patton and logan fall into step behind virgil, approaching the danes family patriarch and matriarch together.

mark is already pulling his youngest son into a hug, squeezing virgil tight, and patton can't help but smile at the way virgil grips his father just as tightly; mark's had a bit of trouble with his health over the past couple years—primarily struggling with his knee, which had been replaced a month before thanksgiving this year—and patton knows it had scared him, at the time, and it made him all the more appreciative of the time he gets to spend with his father. 

"good to see you, son," mark says warmly, patting virgil's back roughly a couple times for emphasis.

"snap," meredith says warmly, and patton grins—the ginger snaps he ate his weight in at the first danes christmas celebrations he'd ever attended have become his nickname namesake—before he approaches and pulls her into a hug.

"welcome," meredith says, pulling away, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "and congratulations are in order, aren't they?"

patton flushes, but before she can tease him anymore, mark's eyes land on logan.

"god, look at you!" mark says. "you're tall! how much have you grown? a foot? more? what on earth are you feeding him, virgil?" mark asks, turning to him, and virgil puts his hands up, smirking.

"i think i've grown four and a half inches, since the last time i saw you," logan says, before he steps forward and hugs mark, adding quietly, "it's good to see you, nonno."

patton's smile widens at that. emily and richard have always been grandma and grandpa, to logan, and maria, the previous manager at the inn who had taken in patton and logan, has been nana, but mark and meredith have always been nonno and nonna; grandpa and grandma in italian, where mark's family had emigrated from before mark was born.

"and it's good to see you, jammy," mark says, equally warmly, before he draws back, making eye contact with logan, and not having to tilt his head downwards anymore; they're almost on the same level now. "goodness. it'll take some time to get used to that. hit your growth spurt with a vengeance then, just like your dad—"

and then mark's eyes fall to patton, and patton smiles a little nervously, twisting his fingers together.

"hi, mark."

something in mark's eyes go soft, and he steps forward to hug patton just as tightly as he had hugged virgil and logan, to hold patton just as close, and patton isn't sure why his eyes are suddenly stinging, but they are, and he squeezes them shut and takes in a deep breath as he hugs mark back.

"we're overjoyed," mark says quietly, and draws back to look at patton, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes growing more pronounced with his smile. "oh, patton, we're so thrilled for the pair of you, truly we are. you've always been part of the family, but now—well," he says, and looks between virgil and patton.

"the pair of you, making each other happy," meredith says. "it's everything a mother could want for her boys."

patton struggles to swallow, and he can only smile guilelessly at them both as he waits for the lump in his throat to pass.

"now, we heard about your health scare after thanksgiving," mark says, frowning. "you're too young for such things. you're all better now, aren't you? all fixed up?"

"doctor says i am a-okay," patton manages to croak out.

"wonderful," meredith says, "and no more of any of that."

"you should remain hale and hearty, or else," mark adds, finishing her sentence; they've been married for so long, it's almost like they've become symbiotic.

"or else what?" patton says, achieving something close to his normal tone and not sounding like he's about to cry tears of happiness anymore.

"or else i'll set my wife on you," he says, before he claps logan on the back. "now, i hear that you have brought your boyfriend to meet the family!"

"you've met," logan says, beginning to blush, but he goes to get roman anyways; nicola coos "oooh," after the pair of them with all the teasing in her tone that one would expect from a younger cousin.

roman holds logan's hand as they approach.

"sir, ma'am," roman says respectfully, the picture of a proper young man; isadora looks on approvingly from where she's holed up in a corner with ryu, freddie, and a now-sleeping sayuri.

"this is roman prince, nonna, nonno," logan says, squeezing roman's hand tight and leaning into his side. "i love him very much."

mark's smile goes even softer at that; patton leans his head on virgil's shoulder, his cheeks aching.

"aw, shucks, specs," roman says, grinning at logan, "i love you very much too."

"well," mark says gently. "what grandparent doesn't like to hear that? we are very happy to have you and your mother, roman."

"come and sit," meredith says eagerly. "indulge two old crones in some conversation; i hear you want to take after your mother and go into ballet?"

and so mark, meredith, logan, and roman settle on the couch, logan still clinging to roman's hand and looking the most outwardly fond that patton has ever seen him look. it's enough to have the lump in his throat come roaring back with a vengeance.

virgil touches his shoulder, a silent question—you all right?

patton smiles at him and nods, before someone taps him on the arm, and he looks up.

"spouses club meeting," annabelle says, hooking her arm through his.

"what?" patton says.

"spouses club meeting," lexa repeats.

"i'm—i'm not a," patton says, blushing. he isn't the only one—he sees virgil going red, too. they've been dating for barely a couple weeks, that's very far off from—well—

"i'm not a spouse either, technically," lexa points out, "but that's what we're calling it anyways. virgil, we're stealing your boyfriend."

"do i have a choice in the matter?"

"nope!" lexa says cheerfully. "you, patton sanders, have gossip for us."

"goss—" patton repeats, frowning, before he looks to virgil. "oh—oh! lex, it isn't gossip, really—"

"not gossip, sure," annabelle scoffs. "it's only been ten years, we're getting the story—"

"steal him," virgil says immediately.

"traitor," patton cries out, softly enough so that it doesn't attract the attention of anyone else in the room; he'd gotten enough of that when he'd tried to kiss virgil.

"you aren't automatically immune, you've got siblings to deal with," annabelle tells virgil sweetly, and laughs when virgil pulls a face, suddenly looking younger, like the man in his early twenties that he had been their first christmas all together like this.

and so patton is tugged off into the kitchen, where adam, lexa, annabelle, moira, and ryu all sit, ready to hear the story of how they got together, and patton knows that the rest of their trip will be spent like this—being pulled off into subgroups, whether it be spouses, or kids, or siblings, or other arbitrary combinations that would happen on the fly. patton knows he'll spend the rest of the trip eating his weight in ginger snaps, and coming up with fun activities for the kids, and having a million different conversations with everyone, trying to organize how they'll be able to gather in smaller groups during the new year, and— 

—and patton knows he's in for a very chaotic, very merry christmas.

[growingstronglikeahighgardenrose]

The Christmas Miracle

Pairings: Charlotte/Sidney

POV: Georgiana

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

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

Also available on AO3

Georgiana hated the English climate.

It was cold.

It was wet.

It was windy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ☼☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

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

He knew, Georgiana realized.

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

Just ditch the bitch, please.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Perhaps.’

 ☼☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

‘Our problem?’ Georgiana asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lady Babington nodded.

‘So the reason is money.’

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

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

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

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

‘So they need money’, Lady Susan decided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lady Babington smiled but the other two looked reserved.

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

‘Except that murder is illegal’, Charlotte said.

‘Only if they find out.’

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

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

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

‘Commits adultery.’

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

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

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

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

‘But Mrs. Campion…’

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

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

‘Yes.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘But would that be enough?’ Esther asked.

‘I doubt it.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘That soon?’ Charlotte asked in panic.

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

‘She isn’t she’s a control freak.’

Esther walked away from the window.

‘How many weeks ago did she say that?’

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

‘Interesting’, Lady Susan concluded.

Esther’s eyes connected with those of Lady Susan.

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

‘Death?’ asked Georgiana with amusement.

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

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

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

‘They’re signs of pregnancy.’

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

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

Esther and Georgiana were smiling now.

But Charlotte wasn’t faring too well.

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

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

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

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

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

And then.

Like a snowflake falling out of the sky,

Twirling in the wind,

A thought formed,

And slowly solidified as it floated through her head,

Until it hit her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Why?’

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

‘Oh my.’

‘Heavens.’

‘The chances of such a thing…’

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

‘I believe so, I could write to him?’

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

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

All women stared at the snow twirling past the window.

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

‘’It seems so’, Lady Susan replied.

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

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

☼☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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

☼☼☼☼☼

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

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

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

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