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ravenryblack · 6 years ago

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Sleep, Perchance...

A one-off fic - mostly CAOS canon Spellwood set after the birth of Judas with additional character and Faustus having not a very nice time. (Because because he’s a massive shit-lark) Liberties taken with his back story because basically nothing is said in the show.

Nothing explicit - mainly because it’s a very good writer indeed who can do well-written squealchy.

Whilst the large, wrought-iron bath filled he undressed, hanging up his frock coat and trousers, hung up his tie on the tie rack, placed cufflinks into the tray, boots onto the shoe rack. His white undershirt was spotted with blood; he balled it up and took it into the bathroom, where he threw it into the laundry hamper. He added his underwear to the hamper and then lowered himself into the warm water, wincing as it reached the top of his back. Allowing his eyes to close he basked in the pleasure of the second-hand pain stretching out his legs beside the taps, extending his toes, becoming hard as he relived the afternoon with Zelda.

The sound of the baby crying cut through his reverie and he opened his eyes, moment ruined. And now Constance entered his thoughts. The child could have been conceived in this bath; she had liked to bathe with him, to wash his skin and his hair. Especially his hair, like it was her little secret that he had a thick mass of really curly hair, which he despised. He had indulged her in that, let her run her hands through it. She had never much indulged his excesses, she had wanted long, slow, gentle love making, constant reassurances that he cared only for her.

He had often wondered why she had even married him, he had never hidden who and what he was, she could surely not have hoped to change him. Yet she had railed against him at every turn. He had married her, that should have been enough. Why hadn’t it been enough? For all his many dalliances he went home to her, she was the woman who bore his child.

He dunked his head under the water, wiping his hands through his hair and down his face as he reemerged. His son was still crying in the other room, louder and more shrill now. Pulling himself up and out of the bath he walked through his room and opened the door, ‘Arabella,’ he yelled, then walked down the corridor, shedding water, as he barged into the nursery.

Arabella was by the window, holding the boy who was wailing, ‘What are you doing woman?’ he demanded, ‘He sounds distressed.’

‘I’ve fed him, changed him, he’s warm.’ The young woman was rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the shrieking boy, her eyes wide at the sight of the priest, dripping wet, naked and angry. This was a prestigious role to have taken but she was frightened of Blackwood. He was demanding and impatient, wanting only the best for his son and not certain she was supplying it.

‘Give him to me,’ he demanded, holding out his hands, those hands with the huge nails. Cautiously she held out the baby and Blackwood took him, gathering up the blanket against his wet chest. Judas struggled a little, still screaming, his little hands pressing to his father’s bare skin. Blackwood took away the blanket, bringing the child’s bare legs and arms against his skin, then sitting down in the arm chair. Arabella remained by the window, trembling, fearing that she would be sacked so soon after her arrival. Her previous employers had offered her services to the High Priest after the death of his wife, praised her diligent work with their own children. Of course he had accepted and she had found herself here, in this place with Faustus Blackwood, looking after the little boy.

Not that he spoke to her that often. He liked to spend time with the child in the evenings but seemed happy to hand him back to her. Her work had never been questioned and he had not made her feel as uncomfortable as she currently did. He was always so deftly styled, his clothing just so, his black hair slicked and side parted. Here he sat naked, with his hair falling forward over his face, great red marks across the his back.

‘He wants skin contact,’ Blackwood stood and crossed to her, tugging at her blouse She recoiled as if he’d burnt her. ‘I want to put him against your skin, not caress your breasts you silly woman.’

She opened her blouse a little and took the boy from him. Blackwood regarded the young woman. She had worked for the Starlings for 6 years, straight out of the Academy. He barely remembered her as a student so unremarkable had she been. She was a lumpen, plain woman who seemed frightened of her own shadow but until tonight she had been good with the boy. The Starlings had insisted she come to him given his circumstances; she had done sterling work with their three children after all.

‘Have you ever been with a man?’ he asked. She looked up, meeting his gaze with large, dark eyes.

‘No.’

It did not surprise him, she barely spoke and seemed content to sit and read rather than socialise. She was not an attractive woman although she was soft and rounded in all the right places.

‘I saw you looking at me…’

‘Looking at you, Father Blackwood?’ she asked incredulously. Where was she supposed to look. He was standing there without any clothes on after all.

‘Do you like what you see?’ He knew there was plenty to like, apart from perhaps his hair, but that was still wet and had not yet sprung up in errant curls. He raked his fingers through it, brushing it back into some semblance of the style he sported when it was dry and oiled.

Arabella’s eyes widened and she shook her head, then nodded, then made a weird noise.

‘You should not be ashamed to look, the Dark Lord encourages our nature.’

‘I wasn’t ashamed...I just...do they all look like that?’

‘What?’

She nodded downward.’Um...what were you expecting? Mine is moderately larger than most. Women enjoy…’

‘So they all look that...funny…’

‘Funny?’

‘Like an afterthought....’ she blurted, nodding at the ‘afterthought’.

‘A…’ he opened his mouth, then closed it again, ‘I am going back to my bath.’

‘Your back looks sore. I have a balm...if you wanted…’

‘No…’ He pulled the door closed behind him and headed back to his bath. With more hot water added he settled in once more. Cheeky bloody woman. He’d been too flabbergasted to manage a response. Although perhaps it served him right for cornering her in such a way when she was obviously uncomfortable. Funny though. Funny!

He did not stay in the bath much longer, washing his hair and skin, then brushing his teeth. The bed beckoned once he was dry but he still felt irritated with the annoying woman. Lying in the darkness he felt the emptiness of the bed, the absence of the woman he had shared it with for so long. He had married her for all the wrong reasons of course, because she was from the right family and not because he loved her but he’d cared for her in his own way and her death had left a yawning gap in his life.

His back ached; Zelda had been especially harsh with her punishment catching the top of his buttocks and he was struggling to get comfortable. First one side, then the other but the skin was taut and sore. Now he was too hot. He pushed the bedclothes away and a cool breeze played across his skin; until he was then cold and dragged the bedding back.

Sleep eventually dragged him into its embrace but he found himself in the wood, naked, alone. Mist swirled around his feet, chill creeping up his body, a sense of someone nearby.

‘Who’s there?’ he demanded, turning around several times.

Laughter. Several women laughing; mocking laughter.

‘You didn’t really think she’d come did you?’ the voice called, ‘To be with you.’

Something struck his shoulder and bounced off, scraping skin and spraying blood as it collided with him. He tried not to cry out as another rock struck him in the back of the head but he felt suddenly sick and faint, dropping to his knees as he clutched his head, blood running freely through his fingers.

He was awake then, sweat slicked, his heart pounding. These things were sent by Dark Lord to test his resolve, to remind him of his human weakness. There was a glass of water on the bedside table and he drank several mouthfuls before rising from the bed and opening the window, allowing the night air cool his skin.

He could hear his son crying again, and walked along the hallway to the nursery. Only Judas was fast asleep, his eyes moving back and forth beneath the lids. He stroked his fingers across the boy’s soft black hair, wondering what he was dreaming about.

‘Father Blackwood?’ the stupid girl asked sleepily from her bed by the window.

‘I heard crying.’

‘No, he’s been fast asleep for hours.’

‘I definitely heard crying…’

‘Are there ghosts here? Your wife miscarried also…’

‘Why would unborn children haunt this house. The Dark Lord will have taken them into his care. You didn’t hear anything?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe I dreamt it then. Go back to sleep.’ He returned to his own room, even more unsettled now. He lay in the darkness, waiting to hear the child once more but there was only the hoot of an owl outside.

Dark Lord let me sleep.

Maybe self pleasure would relax him enough to sleep. If the damn thing would show any interest. It perked up a bit but his mind was swirling with thoughts of a nature that were not conducive to an erection and it flopped back defiantly soft.

Bedding off, bedding on, left side, right side, back, one pillow, two pillows.

Fuck it.

He got up, dragged on his bathrobe and went down the stairs to his library where he switched on a lamp and settled into his armchair to read.

Which was where Arabella found him the following morning, asleep in the chair. She was loathe to wake him but the housekeeper,Mrs Orwell had asked where he was as breakfast was to be served. He looked peaceful, his hands on top of a book in his lap, His hair was sticking up at all angles in soft springy curls. No wonder he oiled it all down. It softened his face considerably, made him look less harsh. Not the image he wanted to present.

She touched his hand and his eyes opened with a start. The book clattered to the floor, narrowly avoiding his bare feet.

‘Breakfast is served,’ she said. He stood, tightened the belt on his robe and hurried away. Arabella went to feed Judas and get him ready for the day, wondering if she would be keeping her job after her ridiculously blurted comment. But what had he wanted her to say. She supposed that she found him nice to look at, which she didn’t. She couldn’t imagine wanting him to touch her. With his funny thing. He had actually looked upset when she had said that.

When he appeared to say good morning to his son he was back in control of everything, his clothing and hair just so. She wondered if she should apologise. He took the boy from her and held him for a while, walking to the window, talking to the child quietly.

Arabella tidied up a little, although the room was already tidy.

‘Zelda Spellman is coming later, to check on him. Ensure he is presentable.’ He handed her back the boy.

‘You look tired, Father Blackwood.’

‘You’re not paid to make comments about me, girl. You’re paid to take care of my son.’

‘It was an observation...not a criticism…’

He moved a step closer to her, ‘You need to learn your place. I wonder now if I was offered you as you caused problems to your previous employer.’

‘I assure you I did not.’ She had liked them. They had treated her like one of the family, not a servant. Mr Starling had never appeared in her room with his maleness on display and asked if she liked the look of it. ‘I was considered one of the family.’ Maybe if he sacked her she could go back there.

‘I will be in my study most of the day. Bring him to me at 1.’

‘And Madam Spellman?’

‘She and I have...matters to discuss beforehand.’

Zelda was shown into his study and found him asleep in the chair. She stood for some time, watching him there, his hands folded in his lap, his head resting against the winged side of the chair. His eyes were moving beneath their lids, long eyelashes dark against his pale skin. Her lust for him was profound, as was her equal dislike of him. She wondered what was running through his mind as he slept and she hoped he was being quietly tormented. She had hurt him the previous day, the pleasure not so pleasurable for he had asked her to stop as the tails had licked around his lower back and across his pale buttocks. She had ridden him afterwards, knowing that his skin was abrading on the carpet with every delicious movement. He’d even given a little whimper at one point.

She sat down in the chair opposite. Perhaps she should simply let him rest and visit the baby instead. Or perhaps not. She moved behind the chair and trailed her fingers through his hair, leaning down to whisper his name. He woke with a start, turning to look up at her. “Zelda. How long have you been there? You should have woken me.’

‘I just have,’ she smiled. ‘I wanted you well rested.’

He stood, traced his nails through his hair, ‘I thought we might avail ourselves of my bed today.’

‘Are you sore, Faustus?’

‘I thought it would make a change. We could share a bath first if that takes your liking?’

Yes, he was sore.

He led her up the stairs and into his private chamber, the room he had shared with Constance until recently. There were still traces of her about the place, including a photograph of the two of them. He saw her eyes alight on it and immediately placed it face down.

‘Guilt, Faustus?’

He gave a dry laugh as he pulled off his tie, ‘None.’ He flung the tie behind him as he went into the bathroom and began to run the bath. Zelda unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, tracing her finger down his sternum, through the valley of dark hair nestled there and on down.

‘I heard a baby crying last night,’ he said as she reached the waistband of his trousers.

‘Judas?’

‘It wasn’t Judas. He was fast asleep.’

‘A dream then.’

‘The twin…’

‘The twin?’ Zelda struggled to keep the concern from her voice.

‘You said there was a twin, that it was absorbed…’

‘Yes...it was probably just a dream, Faustus, a phantasm.’

‘The girl...the stupid girl suggested it was the unborn children...but they will be with the Dark Lord.’

What was this? Doubt? Guilt? Certainly confusion.

‘The Dark Lord will have taken care of them, Faustus. You know this.’ She stopped the taps.

‘I am burdening you with my thoughts, Zelda. I apologise.’ he gave a slight smile, ‘When you have come for pleasure.’

She watched him as he climbed into the bath, traced the marks across his back with her eyes, the blood scabbed across his lower back where she had been at her most devoted.

‘Are you not coming in?’ he asked.

‘Of course I am.’ She undressed and stepped into the tub, at first facing him but he turned her around, drew her down between his raised knees and then back against his chest.

What was this? She wondered. His cheek was pressed against hers, ‘You know that I’m trying to do the Dark Lords will don’t you Zelda, to strengthen the Church of Night.’

‘Faustus, are you having a crisis of faith?’

‘No...I just want you to understand. I need your strength whilst I make the changes necessary.’

Zelda no more believed that than he did. What he needed, wanted, was someone to satisfy his lust for a while. It suited her to be here, not least because she enjoyed it. Faustus faults were many and varied but his arrogance would not allow him to be anything but indulgent with his lovers. To imagine that he left them unsatisfied would be a sin in his eyes.

The sound of the bedroom door made them both jump and he rose quickly from the bath and out into the bedroom, shouting, “What are you doing here?’ then ‘ Answer me.’

‘I was looking for Judas teddy bear...I can’t find it and he’s upset.’

‘Why would it be in here?’

‘I didn’t know if you brought him in here.’

‘If you want to join me in my bed just ask girl, not make excuses, and don’t sneak around.’

‘I don’t...I wasn’t…’

‘I’ll expect you later then. When Judas is asleep.’ he gave a wicked laugh.

‘No...I…’

He opened the door and let her out, her face a mask of consternation.

‘Faustus that was cruel. That poor girl is obviously still a virgin. Such a plain little thing.’ Zelda said behind him. ‘Don’t make her think she’s expected to attend to you as well as your son. It’s not very becoming of a High Priest. It was unnecessarily cruel.’

‘She irritates me. She’s so so insipid, more like a mortal than a witch. What man would want that. She’s frightened of her own shadow.’

Zelda picked something up off the floor and threw it toward him. It was a small, plush bear. Faustus caught it and then placed it on the bedside table. He would return it later. When he had finished here.

Zelda left him half dozing in the bed and walked along to the nursery where the sad faced, dumpy girl was playing with Judas. ‘Madam Spellman, I was unaware you were here.’

‘Let me look at him,’

Arabella handed the child to the older woman, suspecting the reason Father Blackwood had been undressed in the middle of the day had somehow involved Zelda Spellman.

Zelda talked to the boy for a while, pointing at things out of the window and naming them. ‘Are you frightened of Father Blackwood?’ She asked suddenly.

‘A little.’

‘He would not force himself upon you. He would see that as…’ she pondered a moment, ‘A failure of his allure.’

‘His allure? Is that what he has? Did you know he has very curly hair? It’s quite ridiculous.’

‘What’s ridiculous?’ Blackwood growled from the door.

‘We we’re discussing the mortals and their false god,’ Zelda said casually.

‘Well yes that is ridiculous,’ he agreed, walking across to Zelda and taking his son from her, smiling at the boy as he handed Judas the little bear. He handled the child with genuine care and delight. Zelda suspected Judas would be a spoilt brat but that was not her concern. She regarded the dumpy nanny who was tidying up some toys from the floor and suspected all was not as it seemed. The girl had come highly recommended from another high ranking family but despite her seeming meekness Zelda was not so sure. She also could not get the idea of him with curly hair out of her mind. It just didn’t go with his carefully crafted veneer - no wonder he slicked it all down. She could barely contain her amusement at the imagery.

‘He’s looking well anyway, Father Blackwood. I will leave you to your work.’

‘I have some lessons to review before Monday,’ he agreed and handed his child to Arabella.

‘Probably time for some lunch for you,’ she said to the baby and set to her work.

It was snowing, great flakes of white landing on his bare skin and melting. Holding his arms across his bare chest to try and contain the warmth he waded through the snow that was up to his ankles, barely able to feel his feet anymore, disorientated, fear rising.

Trees crowded in around him, every direction indistinguishable from another, the only sound that of his ragged breathing and the crunch of his feet through the fallen snow. He kept on walking, hoping to arrive somewhere he would recognise, a clearing or a path, some way out of this interminable forest. Snowflakes settled on his eyelashes and he brushed them away, pushing his sodden hair back from his face also.

Then he saw the flicker of movement amongst the trees and stopped, again wiping snow from his face to better look. Another movement amongst the falling snow and he moved himself behind the wide trunk of an oak, leaning back against the gnarled bark, trying to control his breathing and his racing heart.

After a moment he peered around the tree but there was only the silently falling snow. Then a voice, barely audible, calling, ‘Faustus.’ in a soft, mocking tone. ‘How did you get to be High Priest then? Someone like you?’

He closed his eyes, he could not simply stand here. He would freeze to death. Pushing away from the safety of the tree he started to walk once more.

‘Where are you going little Faustus?’ the voice laughed, ‘Running away?’

Movement in the trees once more, closer this time and it took all his resolve not to run. ‘Your father is with the Dark Lord. He still thinks you’re a whiny little failure. How much better it would have been for everyone if your brother have survived. You were always the second best. How long did it take you to make your wife pregnant and even then you gave her babies that could not survive. Never quite good enough as always.’

A shape ran across in front of him and this time he did turn and run, flailing through the trees, hearing the laughter behind him, getting closer and closer.

And then the ground fell away from him and he was falling down an embankment, rolling over and over, snow filling his mouth and nose until he came to a rest, laying on his back, gasping for air, blood in his mouth.

‘You’re a fraud, Faustus.’

‘Why don’t you face me,’ he called back, ‘You coward.’

‘You were the one who ran like a terrified little girl. Look at you laying there. You tell yourself that you are something special but you’re just the same pathetic little boy who could never be as good as his brother. Whose father despised him.’

‘I’m the High Priest. I have a son…’ Faustus raged.

‘And what will he be like I wonder? Pathetic and second best. Just like his father.’

A baby was crying. His baby. His son.

He was awake then, lying in his bed, the sound of the crying baby still ringing in his ears. He was drenched in sweat, his heart banging against his chest, breathing ragged and loud in the darkness.

He waited for Arabella to get up to tend to the boy but the crying only intensified so he slid from the bed, pulling on a gown before walking along the hallway to the nursery. Opening the door the crying ceased. Judas lay in his cot fast asleep, his little fists balled up beside his head, the black teddy beside him, his blanket tucked in still suggesting that he’d not been troubled recently.

Arabella too was asleep, curled on her side. He sat on the edge of the bed and touched her shoulder to wake her. ‘I heard the baby crying again.’

‘I didn’t wake, is he alright?’ she said anxiously

‘He’s asleep. You didn’t hear the baby?’

‘No. I was dreaming.’

‘What about?’

‘I was on a beach in the sunshine. There were 4 people, far away along the beach, a couple and two children.’

‘Did you know them?’

‘No. It just seemed that the parents had lavished all of their care on the older boy. The other was left with the scraps of their regard and he stood apart from them despite being part of their group. The older boy was almost beautiful in appearance with blond hair, the other boy dark, lugubrious, with curls. As if they were light and shade.’

‘We are all light and shade. We are flesh and weakness. And the Dark Lord forgives us that, because he recognises that is our nature.’ He was shivering, despite the robe he wore. He lay down and pulled her covers over himself, facing away from her, knowing that he would near the ghostly crying in here.

Arabella lay looking at the back of his head for some time, listening for the change in his breathing, knowing finally when he had fallen back to sleep.

She reached out her hand and pushed it through the soft curls of his earlier washed hair, ‘Sweet dreams, Faustus,’ she whispered and then rolled over with a small smile, closing her own eyes once more.

#spellwood #faustus blackwood #caos fanfiction #zelda x faustus #zelda spellman #the chilling adventures of sabrina

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