#I *think* my answer is Edmund

[dragonsarecats]

To be fair CF is just as much about found family than VW

Hi anon! I'm gonna link the post I talked about the Golden Deer here for clarity's sake lol.

I think when discussing themes of found family in different three houses routes, it's important to talk about Byleth. In a game where the single, main variable between possible futures is Byleth's interference, it means the story has to be written in a particular way--I mentioned this before when talking about character supports and endings; each character needs to be able to have a romantic ending with Byleth, which affects how their supports are written. In the case of the Lord's, this means you're given tangible reasons why you should've chosen them.

I mean. Let's be real here. Claude has the highest survivability rate of any character in the base game. He can't die if you're completing Verdant Wind (for obvious reasons), or Blue Lions. He's heavily implied to live to see another day in Silver Snow, and you can spare him in Crimson Flower! Edelgard and Dimitri die without the professor's stabilizing influence--but Claude? What does he lose without the professor.

That's sort of how I determine subtler themes of each route in a way--by comparing what you get with and without Byleth.

So when I argue that Verdant Wind is the most about found family, I mean it thematically; the other routes don't have tangible less found family, but without Byleth members of the Golden Deer just blatantly disappear unrecruited post time skip in several routes!

Without Byleth, the option for found family is removed for Claude in a big way, I personally feel, and not just by full recruitment runs lol. Not completely, of course--even in Crimson Flower a recruited Lorenz laments having to face off against Claude and Hilda is willing to die in defense of him and the city--but enough that it was blatantly shocking to me that if you don't recruit Marianne, she does not appear at all post time skip, no exceptions.

In a narrative sense, perhaps slightly unshocking; but in a practical sense? This leaves Claude without a healer.

Claude can't hold onto all his Deer even if you don't recruit any of them in the Academy phase. Silver Snow, Azure Moon, Crimson Flower--Marianne will always be gone; consistent, non variable. Depending on the route other characters like Lorenz might disappear as well.

The themes of found family are prevalent in all the routes, but since each route is pretty much defined by the Lord who leads it, I feel as though their personal relationship with the found family is most defining, if that makes sense.

People stand by Edelgard, Dimitri, and even Rhea for better, or for worse. Even recruited, characters like Felix make it abundantly clear that switching sides doesn't change the immense emotional attachment they have to their original lord.

This just. Isn't true for Claude.

Without Byleth, he doesn't get to keep everyone together. Without Byleth Hilda is recruitable in two routes. The idea that you could ever do the same with Hubert or Dedue is blatantly laughable.

Byleth's presence is what enables Edelgard, Dimitri, and Rhea to remain the most of themselves, if that makes sense. Edelgard's war strategy in Crimson Flower is a lot less aggressive and scorched earth then it is in the other two routes because she's had the professor as an emotional rock. Similarly for Dimitri, he's able to recover because Byleth is there to keep him alive and safe. And then Rhea will blatantly die in the Verdant Wind route where she doesn't in Silver Snow. Byleth, in every sense of the word, keeps these three characters alive and well.

But without her? They still inspire loyalty and devotion--unquestionable, again, if no recruitment takes place. Dimitri, Edelgard, and Rhea can all face up against you as enemies with the full force of their houses/allies (save for, oddly, Annette).

Claude does not.

Claude's whole route is about learning to trust others in a way that allows them to trust him. The Deer are devoted to Claude in Verdant Wind in a way they just, textually aren't otherwise, and that's due to Byleth's influence, both as a Professor to these individual students, and to Claude.

When I say that Verdant Wind is the most found family thematically to me, I mean it at a very base level. Claude knows he doesn't have what Dimitri and Edelgard seem to take for granted. It seems almost effortless, in Verdant Wind, the loyalty and devotion he inspires in his friends despite how often you, as Byleth, are told that Claude appears to be an untrustworthy and sneaky individual.

But it's easy to see in routes where you don't chose him that without Byleth, that image mantains. Claude is an outsider. And maybe he doesn't need Byleth in the way the other lords do to survive or achieve his dream (after all, there's nothing saying he can't open diplomacy with his former classmates after he goes back to Almyra so long as he lives to do so), but just as Byleth is uniquely able to be a peer to the Golden Deer, so can Claude uniquely trust and gain the trust of his house in full.

It's not as dramatic as the other two houses, and I think it's the point. Edelgard and Dimitri have already built a solid foundation of devotion and loyalty. Ferdinand and Felix (your "rival" characters in those houses) are loyal without Byleth, even if Ferdinand claims it's to guide her or if Felix complains every step of the way. Lorenz isn't. In Verdant Wind, you sort of take it for granted that everyone will be there at the reunion if they survived the Academy phase. Of course they will--they promised, didn't they?

But outside Verdant Wind, it's clear to see that you as the player took it for granted. And that's why I think Verdant Wind is thematically the most found family. It's not because the other routes don't love each other as much or aren't as complex or there isn't devotion. It's because fundamentally Verdant Wind is about Claude, for the first time in his life, having a group of people he can rely on and who will rely on him without hesitation. It's about the formation of found family, and how Claude doesn't need it to achieve his dreams, but man, does it give him something to achieve those dreams for.

[lucy-shining-star]

Technically I should have realized that if I look at Narnia as a series, determined to decide ‘main characters of a series’ not of individual books, than Caspian and Jill are as much main characters as Peter and Susan, and Eustace is more of main character than Peter and Susan and as much as Edmund and Lucy, a lot sooner, but somehow I realized that only few weeks ago and can’t stop being shocked at that realization

[zonie-az]

Question when you picture yourself like in scenarios or replays or whatever. And you see you. Are you what you see in the mirror? Or is it someone else?

Like

Idk if this is a neurodivergent or a trans thing or what's.

But I never see me. Like it's me but in the video in my head it's not what I physically look like.

My brain doesn't connect what I look like physically to me. So like in replays or maked up scenarios I look like someone else. Usually whoever has my hyper fixation.

So idk I was thinking about how I lost a tig of war battle with acorn over his cookie.

And its California and acorn having the fight.

But it is me 100% I just.

I guess have no rendered model of myself in my head to use so I grab whatever character to just put in there cause I don't have anything else to use for me.

Idk why Cali was chosen this time my brain I think is just like

We need a someone to play Ed!

ヘ（。□°）ヘ

Quick grab California he can play Ed! (Pushes Cali in front) Ready set action!

Idk if this is part being trans and just I never really get connected to myself. Like I can picture kid me but after a point it stops being what I looked like and starts being whatever character I used. If like my body doesn't match what my brain says it should be so it just threw everything out.

Or if it more me being neurodivergent and having both the thinking in movies, clips, picture and having constant monologuing and also other words playing. And just my brain just like. Well we play clips of our hyper fixation all day to bring some joy and just reaction gifs to express our thoughts that we can't put into words.

So why not just use some of the characters we use during our reaction gifs to just play you full time in stead of just a 5 second reaction.

Am sorry this started as a question but I needed to make sure it was clear it just the model that plays me am not a system. I don't want to seem like am hinting I might think I am or trying to wiggle in and make myself part of that community. I am not I have other diagnosis and neurodivergent stuff going on in this weird brain.

[will-o-wips]

Save the Villainess Thoughts by Willow Masterpost Part 1: Jane

So I've decided to be insane. Make a small (lies, it is long, that is why it is divided up into parts) post about the Halloween videos and the lore that they have given us. As well as maybe compile theories/thoughts about these characters. Idk if there is a community for this even, or if anybody's actually obsessed like I am, but I'm having fun thinking about it either way, so... I guess this is for like the 0.0000000000001% of the people (me and only me). Enjoy lmao.

You have been warned: the actual insanity starts under the cut lmao.

So I will start with... Jane. Mostly because her Halloween special video is not as lore-bomb-dropping as the rest. The video itself is mostly about certain aspects of the gameplay so far. It's a neat little thing! Honestly, these are more thoughts/rambles than actual, well, coherent notes, but from what I've noticed (from being insane and watching every single social media post on Tumblr Best Laid Plans Productions ever made about all of them, more or less, even though my memory is spotty and I didn't have time to rewatch them before making this), is that Jane is just unknowingly integrated in this world. I don't notice her having any thoughts about before she was transported into the romance novel she read; it's not like she's thinking about her family home, or that she has any plans of going back. She just knows she doesn't belong in this world as the villainess, which is super interesting to me. She's just... accepted her fate and that she must survive. She's BECOME the villainess, rather than just feeling like an imposter in another person's body. She only knows she's innocent, which is why she's fighting so hard to be freed from such a fate. Another thing that supports this is the fact Jane always says such weird phrases that I'm like 99% sure aren't actual English idioms, but rather phrases that this alternate romance novel universe uses. Such as "By the blood" in the Halloween special specifically, because, what does this mean Jane???? What are you referring to here!!! (Side note: Edmund also uses these odd phrases a lot, so I suppose it's something the nobility of Carcosa are familiar with; some kind of "noble language" to distinguish those of nobility from commoners or whatever. Some kind of pretentious thing that just happens because society is cruel lmao. Either that OR this is just the way Carcosians speak in general and Jane just kinda always knew this ever.)

Another thing, besides just the obvious announcements of how this guideline/tutorial thing works in the gameplay, is the fact that Jane explicitly states that daytime and nighttime are important. Most people would sign this off to, well, gameplay experience. That during the night you can talk to people more intimately and have like rendezvous or whatever with your favourite characters, while at daytime you're solving mysteries mostly. See the thing with that is, is that Servant also somewhat says very similar things in previous instances of videos. And we all know that Servant is like... that one person that gives everyone the creeps, the intrigue and also the insanity. They are, as of now, the most explicit in the fact they are somewhat of a mastermind behind this all. They know what is happening with the lore. They know, but they don't like explicitly telling us what is happening, so... yeah thanks ig Servant? In each case, Jane here is not joking when she says that nighttime and daytime are important; they're probably very much so magically (maybe?) linked to how this story is supposed to progress. Aka gameplay actually impacts lore, and lore impacts gameplay. As to what it is referring to... well, I have my theories about it. But what I'm most confident in is that it is related to some kind of magic about the story. It is relevant to the narrative; relevant to things both Ben and Servant know about this world. And I say Ben because he's also so sus in such a world-altering way but I'll talk about him later... yeah, later lmao.

Now, my notes that I took while watching the videos here are very vague (thank you for that Willow, you are so insane about this you cannot even write in proper English), but there's something about the jewelry and accessories of these characters. Most noticeably, the way they glow. Like Rhythmically Glowing and Shaking. In Jane's case, it's her earrings [her brooch is less important but it still has symbolism on it probably, with how it has a bee etched onto it. Maybe this is her family's like symbol? Like how Renaissance Pope families had different kinds of symbols etched into buildings they funded into existence and all. Who knows]. Maybe this is some kind of glint effect or whatever; but then why is it animated like THAT??? Idk if I'm onto something or not here, I have high suspicions that I am, but maybe I'm also just looking into it too deeply... but there's something wrong with this jewelry. There's something wrong with the way that Servant's Brooch also glows, whenever Edmunds (tie clips? cufflinks for your neck??? what are they I'm not good with fashion, though the game has such good fashion design guys okay) accessories start glowing and shaking, when Izel has his little gem earring (I love that design omg, also + the brooch he has on his tie but like it doesn't shake) shakes and glows as well and how Ben's POCKET WATCH CHAIN (+ the little uhh buttons on his coat but they don't shake the way the other things do) IS GLOWING OKAY (and yes I'm insane enough to pause these videos just to see whether it is true). Something is going on. It's happening (slightly) even during daytime, and I checked this, so there's something fishy with this. There has to be. I'm so convinced there is jfkldsjfks. A possible explanation for this is that because these characters are all main actors in the story, some kind of magic is there to maybe,,, force them to play their part? Maybe they cannot be exempted from the main storyline because of this? Maybe everybody is just here because they have no other choice? Honestly idk. More thoughts on this in the other parts because dude I'm gonna lose my mind if I try to put everything in here. AND MAYBE IT'S JUST AN ARTISTIC CHOICE AND I'M JUST INSANE ABOUT IT??? Who knows.

Anyway, to close off this post, because I know it is long and idk whether there's actually any substance here, I'll try to compile the thoughts about Jane into a few small sentences, without fangirling in between lmao.

She's lovely, and while she is very funny, I find her harder to pin down than the rest of the cast (that we know of as of writing this). She's dead set on surviving, and that's probably because she might have experienced death once already. Either as the Villainess Jane Neville herself, or as the person she (possibly) used to be, that we know absolutely nothing of. She does not show any other hints to her past: just constantly assuring us she desperately needs help. I love her, of course, not only for her character design or the fact that she's funny, but for the fact that she somehow manages to avoid telling us anything concrete about herself. I don't think that this is done because Jane is not a character and is supposed to be a player-insert (that may play a part in it but y'know, that's just the nature of these kinds of games to a degree); she very much so is a character. She knows these phrases and these small courtesy things that no normal person who WASN'T integrated into this fantasy world would know. Maybe she retained only some of the past memories that her villainess self had, but truly... how could she remember those, but not her fiancé? Not the novel she is in? How can she know she is the villainess with certainty, at all, given she does not remember the book, the plot of said book, nor any of the other characters that well? She only knows someone is out to kill her, and that we must save her. Her weird integration with the world as well as the dissonance she presents with it at the same time is suspicious; she's very mysterious in that regard.

Perhaps I'm biased. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough. It might be that I'm missing something entirely. Somehow my suspicion/theory, even to me, feels like it's somewhat misplaced. That something is up is clear, but whether there's evidence to support anything is a whole other thing.

But somehow I'm inclined to believe that... Jane is not as forgetful as she might think she is. And that whatever happens to her by the choice of the player (who you romance, what kind of ending you get, what kind of choices you make, how you survive based on your deductions in the mystery, etc.), it always will tie into something she wanted to be. That us controlling her to a certain kind of destiny, is something she wanted to be, but never got the chance to be.

That we might guide her towards a destiny she actually deserved, rather than the one she has gotten.

[ Lmao I have so many more thoughts about what exactly makes a villainess but like... if the LIs/ROs/MLs or whatever you call them are all deconstructions and reconstructions of their specific tropes... Then isn't Jane also one? Shouldn't she be, at least? If she never was a villainess, then what makes her be one? If she was a villainess, what changes should she undergo in order to become a hero? And if she is neither... Or cannot remember whether she is clearly... What truly discerns her as a villainess?

I have so many more thoughts and theories about these people that I have to cover later because otherwise I'd have been sitting here for 2 hours trying to write all of this down somewhat understandably. If I actually had a plan for like any type of structure I might've not lost so much time on it. Will try to do that when it comes to the rest and all. Might also opt for smaller paragraphs lmao I genuinely hope I'm not overstepping something by doing this??? If the developers see this and go like "okay maybe don't", I'll take it down fjkdsjfklds. It's not like I'm dead set on sharing this if it's for whatever reason not good for business or something. ANYWAY THIS IS GETTING ABSURDLY LONG. Hope you enjoyed my rambles; until next time for the rest of them! ]

[darkbluekies]

What is your yandere's reaction if their darling suddenly asks, "You'd rather have me dead than let me go, right?"

Warnings: mentions of isolation, captivity, death, threats,

Silas:

He would be appalled to hear that. That's not at all what he's doing ― or trying to convey. All he wants is you to be with him, and to not do stupid things that could cause pain for the both of you. He would try to take you in his arms, try to cach your attention.

"No, what? What are you saying? Never in a million years would I want you dead! But I can't let you go, I can't be without you. You're mine and you're stuck with me. That's that. No one is leaving and no one is dying. Say such nonsense again and I will show you that being dead is far worse than being stuck with me."

Dr Kry:

He stares at you, absolutely shocked to hear you say that. How could you ever think that he wants you harm? He doesn't want to hurt you ... it is just necessary, But he doesn't expect you to understand that. Your poor, pure brain is foggy with medicine, you're not in your best state. Dr Kry would try to comfort you to the best of his ability, knowing that there is no reason to try to hide it anymore.

"Darling, you are my most beloved patient ... do you think I want to hurt you? I am doing this to keep you safe. If I didn't, who knows what would happen to you? You could run around and hurt yourself. The world is menacing and would destroy you. You are so perfect, so pure. I don't want you dead. Never."

King Edmund:

He would give you a long look, hesitating on what to say. He doesn't want you to leave him, wouldn't be able to live without you. But would he rather have you dead? Yes, he would rather have you dead than sharing you with anyone. You are for his eyes only, created for him by a higher power that saw what he needed.

"You're damn right in that. You think anyone else is worthy of having you? I don't share anything else in my life, do I? No, exactly. But you don't have to worry about dying, my jewel. It's not like I'm going to let you leave?"

Jerry:

Jerry would weigh the outcomes. You dead ... or you gone? The only light in her life being put out without a chance to ever return ... or alive? It's a clear question ... and a clear answer, but she won't let you know that.

"Have you gone mad? I'm not even going to answer such a stupid fucking question. I'll teach you what happens when asking such stupid ass questions."

Hedwig:

The question would break her. She doesn't want to keep you locked in her room and it certainly doesn't help her case that you like to sit in the window and gaze longingly out towards the garden. She wants things to go back to how they used to be. But to do that, she would have to let you go. Would she rather have you dead? No, of course not. Not in a million years. She wouldn't be able to ansswer the question, only replay it in her head until she couldn't take it anymore. She would press her hands to her ears and crouch down, shaking her head.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop .... please, stop. Stop saying that! I don't want that! None of it! Stop! Oh, my God, stop, please ..."

[rottenaero]

Ao3

Part 1

Part 3

Part two to the roommates idea

Whenever the mall ‘burns down’, Eddie is just chilling at home; not doing anything special.

Actually, thats a complete lie. He hadn't seen Steve since he left for his shift the day before, and currently has his band+Wayne scattered in the living room as he paces.

“He may as well be dead, he always calls before staying the night somewhere, and he totally despises that place, so why would he stay after hours?” He comes to a halt infront of Jeff who looks considering. “What?!"

“Maybe, consider, he just forgot to call you." Eddie scoffed, “ ‘Maybe he just forgot’, except you don't know him, Jeff. Steve doesn't forget, tell ‘em Wayne."

Wayne nods from his spot on the lazyboy, “ ‘S true, he'd rather call at 2am than have us worrying.”

Gareth rolls his eyes, “Look Edmund, I get your worried about you boyfriend and all but why did we have to get dragged into this?" He complained, and Eddie began pacing again.

“ Not,my boyfriend, yet, and you’re getting-”

A ringing interrupts him.

The pacing stopped almost as soon as it began, and he darts to the phone. “ Y’hello, it's Eddie talking.” A sharp breath drew from the other end of the line.

“Hey Eds."

Eddie smiled, “Holy shit, Stevie. I thought you died. Wayne and the guys are literally gathered in the living room.” Upon hearing the name, Wayne visibly relaxed, going from hunched over to leaning backwards in seconds.

“Yeah I'm- Well shit not okay but I'm not dead.”In the background there was a noise, barely noticeable but-

“Wait, what? Are those sirens? Are you hurt? What the hell-” Wayne leaned forward again.

“I'm at the mall, there's been, uh, an accident? I don't- they took my keys, I need a ride back home.”

“Who took your keys? Steve you can't just be all ominous and-” The phone line shut off. "Fuck!”

Grant, who hasn't been helpful at all, stood up. "What did he do?”

Eddie groans, running a hand through his greasy hair, “Needs us to pick him up, might be hurt. He's such a- Wayne we're taking my van, you guys coming?”

Turns out the answer is yes.

-

They arrive at the mall five minutes later, mostly because Eddie was driving like a bat outta hell, to every emergency vehicle you can think of, plus thirty more, surrounding the place.

Eddie roles his window down when a cop signals him. “What are you doing over here?"

The metalhead bites his lip, what the hell, “Uh, I'm here to pick up Steve Harrington? He got involved in whatever's happening.”

The cops nods, "Alright, park your vehicle over there, and go get him.”

He does as he's told, a surprising feat showing just how scared he was, because Steve being hurt could mean so many things.

They get out the car, Wayne being the leading man, and head to where the commotion is.

The mall was totally destroyed, a couple kids he didn't know were sitting around, surrounded by their parents, there's a couple teens too, Nancy Wheeler, Johnny Byers, a girl in a sailor costume, and-

Eddie’s heart stopped and he fucking sped forward. “ Holy shit, what the fuck man." Steve looked like hell, understatement of the century but-

His face was bruised and bloody, his hands wrapped in casts, his hair was flat and gross and he was still in his damn sailor costume.

“Hey Munsons, Gareth, Jeff, Grant. It's the whole Scooby gang, or Smurfs, whoever you prefer.” Eddie grabbed his shoulders, and stared him dead in the eye. “ What. The. Fuck. Are you high too?!”

“Just what the hell did you get yourself into. " Wayne said more than asked, shaking his head.

Steve buzzed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and he brought a hand to them and-

God they were split, and bleeding now. He looked back up at the long haired man infront of him, ignoring Wayne's question-not-question.

“Nah, just recovering from being drugged. Hey this is rivveting conversation and shit, but like, I wanna go home and sleep in your bed, man. Or the couch, or the floor.”

He let out a loud laugh, “Fuck I am not picky right now, I'll even take the back of the van.”

“Christ."

-

They don't talk about it, not after Hellfire goes home, not the next morning, not after Steve heals. They just don't, because the news told them all they need to know, that there was a fire. Eddie just assumed when they said he was drugged, that he meant medically.

(He didn't)

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking. 

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind. 

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?” 

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.” 

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back. 

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off. 

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted. 

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable. 

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing. 

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position. 

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world. 

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid. 

Not when you didn’t know he loved you. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.” 

His chest tightened. It was his fault. 

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.” 

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.” 

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend. 

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him. 

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck. 

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough. 

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out. 

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence. 

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.  

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out. 

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips. 

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her. 

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes. 

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child. 

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t. 

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied. 

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant. 

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick. 

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?” 

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—” 

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.” 

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes. 

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked. 

“Oh, I—” 

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him. 

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.” 

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side. 

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar. 

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse. 

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead. 

“She’s burning up,” she whispered. 

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.” 

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.” 

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.” 

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you. 

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked… 

You looked as if you were dead. 

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope. 

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.” 

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him. 

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him. 

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.” 

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.” 

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.” 

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.” 

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…” 

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.” 

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left. 

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders. 

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.  

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise. 

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again. 

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.” 

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.” 

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern. 

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.” 

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.” 

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms. 

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.” 

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.” 

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.” 

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?” 

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.” 

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?” 

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her. 

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.” 

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?” 

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.” 

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical. 

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.” 

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies. 

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else. 

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister. 

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.” 

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.” 

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around. 

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.” 

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.” 

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.” 

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer. 

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.” 

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again. 

“...Thank you. For being here for me.” 

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.” 

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings. 

-

Your head hurt. 

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes. 

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep? 

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand. 

You smiled. She came for you after all. 

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all. 

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly. 

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.” 

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood. 

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.” 

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?” 

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?” 

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.” 

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.” 

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.” 

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate. 

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have. 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away. 

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?” 

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?” 

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.” 

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly. 

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—” 

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…” 

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this. 

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?” 

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.” 

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” 

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.” 

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?” 

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.” 

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.” 

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.” 

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her. 

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.” 

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?” 

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.” 

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together.  “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted. 

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.” 

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.” 

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.” 

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!” 

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.” 

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced. 

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded. 

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.” 

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?” 

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?” 

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded. 

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.” 

“Mother—” 

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I assumed just as much, Mother.” 

-

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits. 

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it. 

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger. 

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym. 

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her. 

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question. 

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.” 

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“I had to see you,” Anthony said. 

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.” 

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.” 

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down. 

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship. 

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will. 

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes. 

“Is it true?” 

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?” 

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?” 

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded. 

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.” 

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?” 

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?” 

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.” 

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?” 

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?” 

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.” 

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head. 

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.” 

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.” 

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?” 

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.” 

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.” 

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever. 

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet. 

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.” 

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.” 

“My lady, are you—” 

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.” 

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence. 

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself. 

You’d never felt so useless.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; chapter 6

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Being Commander of District 12 meant that Coriolanus couldn’t just whisk you away to the forest to face his fears. He had a whole army dependent on him. It meant that while you were held up in his apartment, he was held up in his office. 

It annoyed him to no end. To have you so close and yet still out of reach. 

Despite you living with him for a week, you’ve only shared one meal together. 

His overtime meant that you were asleep by the time he got home. 

You had left a clean pair of his pajamas on the end of the bed. He had a habit of just stripping down to his underwear to join you. 

You left dinner for him in the fridge and he sat at the dinner table eating it alone. 

On the odd occasion, there was time to spend together, the mood was often tense from Coriolanus stress. 

He tried not to take his frustration out on you but his answers were often short. 

After a long day filled with complaints and issues that could have been easily solved without him, Coriolanus decided that he would not return to his office after supervising drill training and instead remain with you. 

He was beyond tired from his day, but it was too early to suggest bed. You lay with him on the couch, propped up by a throw pillow against the arm of the couch while he lay in front of you. He threw your arm around his shoulder and held it tight under his chin. 

The TV played a music talent show that neither you nor Coriolanus could care about but the tv only picked up two channels; the news or the entertainment channel that the Hunger Games were shown on. Coriolanus couldn’t bear to hear any more politics for the day so you watched people dressed in irregular costumes perform ballads out of their range. 

His eyes droop as he fights the upcoming sleep. It was the first time since the fight with Edmund that he got you to sit down. The little he was here you spent avoiding him. For the first few days, he was angry too and avoidance stopped the fight he wanted to have with you. 

But a week had passed and his temper cooled. 

You were with him now. Playing housewife to the Commander. 

He felt better now that he was coming home to something, rather than just the cold. When he looked in the fridge there was food for him. His clothes were washed and prepared for him. His bed was warm at night. He made him feel less homesick.

The talk from the TV turned from the judges to Lucky the presenter. 

“Now ladies and gentlemen. We have a surprise for you tonight. We have a certain special guest gracing us. And we have given him the power to save one of your favorites from elimination! Mr Augustus Bloom won’t you please come out!” 

Coriolanus shot up from your hold to watch him. 

Augustus Bloom walked on screen wearing an expensive suit. His brown hair was slicked back and a small gold earring dangled from his ear. 

The crowd cheered for him. 

Coriolanus was stuck in District 12 dealing with half-wits and scum, while Augustus was charming the Capitol on live tv. 

He shakes hands with Lucky. 

“Mr. Bloom, a privilege to have you here tonight!” 

“A privilege to be here amongst you and away from my office.”

Lucky turns to the crowd and laughs. 

“Look at you. You good-looking man! You should be out on the town, breaking hearts!” 

Augustus laughs along with the crowd. 

“I am too busy preparing my business for when I am president of Panem. I’ll worry about women after that.” 

Coriolanus clenches his fist. 

“Oh,” Lucky turned serious to the crowd, “I think Coriolanus Snow might have something to say about that!” 

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves giving Coriolanus an air of confidence. 

A picture from his Academy days flashes up on the screen, you look at it with curiosity. He was once a young boy with soft curls, he now sat nearly unrecognizable. 

“He’s looking like a strong contender. Isn’t he handsome ladies!” He points out to the crowd, “And some gentleman.” 

Augustus had the wind knocked out of his sail. He fidgeted on stage and took a step back almost as if he was going to run away. Dr. Gaul's criticism ran through Coriolanus’ head, “a soft-bellied rich boy, not fit for the presidency.” 

Now the whole audience knew it too. 

“Snow isn’t here” he gritted through a smile. He wasn’t going down with a fight. 

“No. He’s in District 12, keeping us here in the Capitol safe. A round of applause for Commander Snow!” 

The crowd cheered causing Coriolanus to smile.

“So am I!” Augustus interrupted like a child. 

“Yes, right. I am sure one day you will!” Lucky claps him on the back and returns to the audience with an excited demeanor. 

“But of course, that’s a while yet! We are wishing our President Ravenstill all the good health in the world. Now let’s get on with the show!” 

Coriolanus switches the TV off and rests his arms on his knees. He couldn’t help but smile at Augustus' national failure. He made Coriolanus look so strong, so mysterious, and focused. He would send Lucky a fruit basket in thanks tomorrow. He would also send one to Augustus. 

“You had curls.” The young boyish figure had shocked you. 

“Yes,” he pats your knee affectionately, “When we are back in the Capitol and I am president of Panem, I’ll grow them back again.” 

==================

Coriolanus has the nightmare that night. He woke up with the tune of ‘Hanging Tree’ stuck in his head. The first thing he does is reach out to where you should have been lying only to find the space cold. Panic rushes through him. His feet thump against the floorboards as he runs from the room into the hall. Your sleeping body can be seen on the couch and he instantly relaxes. 

His body tells him he should be angry; fists clenched, shoulders up and tense, his face hot. But he couldn’t manage it. His mind was too hazy to comprehend anything but his own panic. 

Instead, he sits down on the floor beside you and tries to control his breathing. The tune hums in the back of his mind and he tries to force it out. 

“You had the nightmare again?” Your voice halts the tune. He looks over his shoulder at you with wide eyes. You finally saw the resemblance between the schoolboy with the curls. 

He gets up and pushes himself on the couch next to you. You feel his hands slide up your back, trying to hold you close but you wiggle free from his grasp. 

You would not comfort the man who kidnapped you. 

He tried to bring you back down to his chest as you crawl over him but his tired state left room for error. 

You tumble down to the floor as you escape. 

He sighs disappointed, bringing his hands up to his face. 

“Was there something wrong with the bed?” he asks. 

“I prefer the couch.” You sit on the ground next to him. 

“You prefer the bed built by Edmund.” He spat his name like it was poison. 

You look up at him warily, “I never told you that Edmund built my bed.” 

Coriolanus is silent for a minute, he sucks his teeth and sits up. 

“You didn’t have to. The wood from your door and bed match.’’

He feels settled as you sit by his feet. The panic subsides, but his anger bubbles up from it. 

“Can you make me a cup of tea?” he asks. 

With him on your bed, you couldn’t go back to sleep anyway so you rose and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

He watches you while sitting on the couch. He liked how you moved so comfortably in the space. You were treating it like your home. No hesitation about where things were, you used things liberally.

“What do you dream?” You ask him. 

“When I wake up it’s gone,” he lies. 

You know he carries it around with him.

“Whatever it is, it scares you.” 

The kettle whistles and you pour it over the tea bag. 

He worried that he now looks weak in front of you. The man who was supposed to be protecting you was scared of a dream like a child. He could continue with his lie but you already knew. 

Instead he tries a half-truth. 

“I dream that I am killed like my father was.” 

This peaked your interest causing him to sit up straighter under your attention. 

“How did he die?”. 

He takes the cup from you but you don’t scurry away like you usually do. You stand in front of him eager to listen to him. The attention moved his mouth, 

“Here. In District 12. A trap out in the forest during the war. He was a governor”. 

“Is that why you wanted to come back?” 

“I didn’t want to come back” he admits. He reaches up with his spare hand to lightly touch yours, “But I am glad I did.” 

“What did you do?” you feel his thumb brush over the back of your hand, “I mean, to get you sent here?” 

He takes a sip of his tea before answering, “I had an enemy in the Capitol. He disliked my father and took it out on my family”. 

“He sent you back as Commander?” 

“No. He died. Gaul sent me back for my presidential run. It looks better to be serving my country.”

You tear your hand from him, “And when they find out you brought me back to the Capitol. How will that look?” 

He places the cup on the floor and stands up to your height.

“I’ll keep you safe, okay?” he presses his forehead against yours, “In the district and in the Capitol”. 

“Safe from danger you put me in.”

Coriolanus shakes his head as you pull away from him. “You’re safe. You’ve always been safe.” 

He tried to pull you close again but you stretched out your arms to keep him at distance.  

“I wanna go home, Coriolanus.”

“Home to Edmund, perhaps?” he bites. His calm and soft features harden. 

A shiver shoots up your spine at the mention of Edmund. 

“Home to my family. The same as you.” 

He sighs, “You won’t be alone in the Capitol as you are here. You just have to put up with it just a little bit longer. We’ll be back home soon”

The Capitol was not your home nor would it ever be. 

But you knew anymore talk of home would lead to more talk of Edmund. 

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” You rip your elbow from his grasp as he walks past you. 

“I’m fine on the couch.” 

He rubs a hand over his mouth before bending down and picking up his tea cup. He splashes the remains on the couch and hands you the empty cup. 

“Enjoy it then.” 

—————-

The next day he comes home around lunch time. It catches you by surprise. 

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head backwards. 

You follow him without a word to the van below where officials stood around. Upon seeing him they take their place. You see Smiley by the passenger side door and he calls out for his Commander. 

Coriolanus tell Smiley to take the seat and climbs in the tray of the truck. 

He pulls you up into the van amongst the Peacekeepers. He sits on the end of the bench with you between his legs on the floor. Like a seatbelt he keeps you in place by taking a hold on your upper arms and pulling them back up on his knees. 

You can feel the glances of his officers but they look away as soon as you try to meet their eyes. 

Halfway they try to break the tension with idle chatter. 

“Will the recruits be as bad as last year?” 

“That’s couldn’t be possible.” 

The talk soon turns to anecdotes about their youthful days as Peacekeeper grunts. 

None of them try to include Coriolanus in their jests. They all willfully ignored the couple on the end. 

You don’t try to talk to him either. 

As you pass through the district the people look at the Peacekeeper van causing you to turn your head in embarrassment. You could still feel the harsh judgements from your community as you sat between the Commander's legs. How would you ever rebuild your reputation? 

The van stops in front of the tunnel to the train station. The people part in the crowd to let the van through. 

Coriolanus releases you to unhook the bolts from the backn of the truck. None of the other Peacekeepers move until he does. He jumps down from the bed of the truck and turns back around to help you down. They all wait until you are down and out of the way before they follow. 

It’s busy, too busy for a normal docking of fresh recruits. All of the road and tunnel leading to the train station were overrun by bodies. 

 District people flood the space, all chatting loudly in a panic. They part as the line of Peacekeepers march through. 

Normally on orientation day, the newcomers to District 12 were given a wide berth. People had better things to do then get a glimpse of the faces that would soon be terrorizing them. 

You wondered what peaked their excitement today. What had Coriolanus done that both you and the district people had to see?

Coriolanus drags you down the dark tunnel into the light of the train station. The talk quitened but didn’t stop altogether. 

You screamed upon seeing the commotion. 

Edmund. 

He was badly beaten and tied to a sturdy metal pole that kept the roof up. A bulls-eye was spray painted an inch above his head.

Blood soaked his face to the point you almost didn’t recognize him. 

Large black bruises covered his exposed skin.

You turn to Coriolanus who was already looking at you and beg him to release Edmund. 

“Please, Coriolanus. Let him go.”

“He threw the first punch.”

You knew it had less to do with causing Coriolanus physical harm than it did with damaging his ego and need for control. Your neighbors were shown that the Commander bleeds like any other man. 

“He learnt his lesson.” you promise. 

“Have you learnt yours?”

Only ten young boys disembark from the train.  They were all thin with a badly-shaved buzzcut and carrying a Capitol issued duffle bag. 

You wanted to run over to Edmund. Protect him somehow. But you couldn’t, it was your protection that got him here in the first place. 

“Gentlemen, welcome to District 12.” 

Coriolanus stood by your side while another officer went in front of the line of boys. 

“This is Edmund Flare,” he gestures to Edmund at the post, “A known rebel sympathizer, and a troubled citizen of District 12.”

Another Peacekeeper runs over and passes the man a gun. You grab Coriolanus' arm in protest. 

“More likely than not, you will have to shoot Edmund one day in service of your country. We figured today we would give you the opportunity to save yourself the trouble in the future.”   

The first young boy is given the gun. 

“You get one shot before you have to wait for that day to naturally come.’’

Edmund holds his head up high to show he is not afraid. But you were. You were terrified. A strong urge to go over and rip the gun out of the young boys hands presented itself but you knew you would be pulled back before you could even stand close enough to touch him, 

The boy checks the gun for the trigger, earning a laugh from everyone but you and Coriolanus. 

Eventually he finds it, and he takes aim. 

The shot misses by a mile. 

“Coriolanus please.” He remains emotionless, watching the scene before him. He stood as if it was a street performance, hands clasped behind his back and perfect posture to get a good view.

“Wait! Wait!” you call out but the men continue. Another boy steps up and takes the gun. 

He takes less time to examine the gun before firing a shot. Edmund flinches as it wizzes past his shoulder. 

‘‘Coriolanus! Stop this. Just please stop, untie hi-”

The next shot is fired causing you to spin around to ensure that Edmund was still standing. He was tall and stupidly proud. 

“I’ll never forgive you if one of them hurt him!” you threaten but it doesn’t even earn you a glance. 

“Do you love him?”

“No” you answered firmly and fast, “No, Coriolanus. Please stop.” 

Another shot is taken. 

“Because if you loved him now would be the time to tell me, because I would hate to break apart lovers.”

The third shot lands next to Edmunds boot. You felt physically sick watching the scene. Your legs shook and would soon give way. 

The men start to whoop and cheer the young recruits on. It gives the next young boy confidence to take a step closer to take his shot but it misses all the same.  

You can’t tear your eyes off Edmund as the next recruit takes aim. They look each other in the eyes. Never spoken a word and already enemies. 

The shot is taken but wizzes past Edmunds head.

You shake your head no. You knew telling him that you loved Edmund would sign his death certificate. 

“He’s my brother's friend, Coriolanus. We grew up together.”

The next shot hit the pole but not the target, causing you to yelp. 

Loud cheering snapped you out of your daze. Begging would get you nowhere. 

Instead you take his shoulders into your arms and turn him towards you.

“He looked after me before you. I would have been dead long before you got to me if it wasn’t for him”. 

Coriolanus throws his eyes back to Edmund which was not the desired effect. 

You change positions, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his attention back down to you.

“I didn’t tell him that you’d taken his role. The other night he was just trying to protect me as you would’ve.” 

He finally looks down at you.

“Please, don’t kill him, Coriolanus. I could never forgive myself.” Your voice begins to shake. You were so nervous for Edmunds safety. Your knees buckled and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

He takes the side of your face into his hands. 

“Do you love him?” 

You shake your head feverishly, “No, Coriolanus.” 

“Do you love him?” You feel his fingers tighten on your face. 

“Yes.” you admit. 

“Do you love me?”

Through gritted teeth a ‘yes’ resounds. 

“More than him?” 

A shot whizzed into the crowd as the new recruit lost control of the gun and Coriolanus pulled his body over yours. 

The officers scold the boy. Taking the waving  gun away. The shot landed into the train station wall but it was a close call for those standing in front of it.

He removes your arms from him and you watch him walk over to the officer holding the gun. 

He takes it and aims at Edmund who stood straight and tall. 

You shrink as the gun fires. Unable to look, you cover your face with your hands. 

The cheering made no impact on your confidence. You couldn’t hear Edmund from their excitement. So you reluctantly open your eyes to see him still standing. 

The bullet had made it straight to the middle of the painted target. 

Coriolanus stood taking aim still, as if he was still considering firing another shot. 

Edmund stared back, almost daring him. 

“Commander.” you call. You don’t call him by his name, not in front of people. 

Coriolanus lowers the gun but keeps his eyes on Edmund as he speaks, 

“Load them up and head back to the compound.” he passes the gun to the closest officer and turns back to where you stood. 

“Cut him loose.” he calls back. 

When he tosses his arm around you and pulls you back to the truck, you turn back to see Edmund surrounded by Peacekeepers. 

People mummer as you walk past but your ears buzzed too loudly to hear a word. 

You felt so weak as you walked. You thought you were going to collapse before you could make it to the van. But with Coriolanus’s strong hold on you, you made it back. 

He climbs in first and reaches down to pull you up. He sits you on his knee instead of on the ground and you watch as the peacekeepers, old and new, return to the truck. 

You don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed as eyes locked into you. 

No one said anything to Coriolanus on the way back. 

As soon as the truck opens back in the compound, you are the first to jump out. You hear Coriolanus footsteps as he followed you back to the apartment.

You immediately take a seat at the kitchen table and Coriolanus gets you a cup of water. You stare at it in front of you. 

“Edmund died today, as far as you are concerned.” 

Closing your eyes to the image of him, you nod your head. 

He could hear Coriolanus moving around the apartment but you couldn’t care what he was doing. 

When he slams something down in front of you, you open your eyes to see a piece of paper and a pen. 

“I want you to write to your brother and tell him about us.” 

You couldn’t. Your brother was hot headed, and powerless. He would cause only problems for himself trying to get back. 

“What would be the point? He is over in District 8.”

“My family are in the Capitol, yet they know about you.”

Shock strikes you knowing that his family knew of Coriolanus’s actions. 

“Write to him,” he pushes, “tell him that we are together. How you feel.” 

You pen a half-hearted letter about how you met a man. Coriolanus, you called him, Not Commander Snow. You tell him how you miss him, and that your mother is okay. That Coriolanus is ensuring that your basic needs are met. Don’t worry, you tell him, you’re perfectly safe.

Coriolanus reads it after you are done before folding it and placing it in his pocket. 

He slides another piece of paper over in front of you. 

“Now write to Tigris and my grandmother. Tigris suggested it would make you feel better, already knowing someone in the Capitol.”

You pick up the pen and write again, but your mind remains on the image of Edmund being used as target practice. You make yourself a promise that you would never meet his cousin or his grandmother. Their letters are as close as they will get before you could escape.

—------

Coriolanus amped up his work schedule even more. Eager to break free from his responsibilities and solve the mystery of Lucy Gray. 

You were left alone at night which was preferable to his company but you felt yourself going crazy with only your own company. 

You tried to keep a routine to fill the day. It was mostly taken up by cleaning tasks. 

After dinner you would wash and dry the dishes, wipe the countertops and table and sweep and mop the floor. Then you would retire to the living room with your sewing or polishing work until it was time for bed. 

There is a quiet tapping on the window disturbing you from securing the buttons on Coriolanus’s shirt. 

No fear ran through you wondering who it could be. They couldn’t get in to harm you anyway. So you peer out from the window. 

“Edmund” you gasp. 

His left eye was blackened, a large bruise formed around the bloodshot vessels. A purple bruise marked his cheek and there was a cut on his right eyebrow. 

“How did you get in?”

He hold a pair of wire cutters up to the window. 

“Are you okay? God I was so worried about you.”

“Ah,” Edmund smiles and replaces the wire cutters with a small knife from his pocket, “Takes more than that.” 

“What are you doing?” you hiss. If Coriolanus found him, there was no way Edmund would escape death a second time. 

“Getting you out of here.” 

“You can’t be here. He’ll be home soon.”

“I know. I’ve been here every night since i’ve been well enough.  I told you, you’re not alone.”

“The Peacekeepers-’’

“There’s a fifteen minute window where this section is blind.” The lock wiggles but resists being opened under pressure, “And he just entered the infantry to wish our poor peacekeepers a speedy recovery. We have time.” 

The door was determined to chew most of it up, however. 

“Edmund, what did he do to you?” his face was swollen from the bruising, and you could see large black and purple spots peeking out from under his shirt. 

“The day after he took you, he sent Peacekeepers to my home. They took me back to the compound and showed me some ‘hospitality’”. 

“Edmund,I am so sorry,” you begin to cry, “I never should have taken the oat bars to the jail.” 

You remembered the day at the market that set off the chain of events. 

You remember seeing the man, he stood out amongst the crowd. Dirty, torn clothes. An arm missing, no doubt from the district's mining work. There wasn’t much work for men outside of it. 

A sense of pity overwhelmed you, so when he swiped a loaf of bread off the table, you looked the other way. Unfortunately a watchful Peacekeeper did not. 

The man's plea echoed through your mind as he was taken away; “Please, I am so hungry.” 

It led you to making the oat bars not only for him, but for all the others punished for their hunger. 

You remembered a rumor that there was a hole at the west end of the jail for the Peacekeepers to sneak out from, and women of the night to sneak in. You were surprised to find out it was actually true. 

“This is not your fault, okay. I am going to get you outta here, and we’ll go to the mountains okay? Where it’s safe. Like planned.”

You nod your head. 

The door jingles as Edmund tries to force it open with his knife. It doesn’t bulge.

“Edmund, my mother, is she okay?”

“She’s okay. She’s already up the mountains.”

“How? She could barely walk?”

“I carried her.” 

The guilt came crashing down on you. Edmund had his own family to look after. They wouldn’t survive without him. 

“Edmund. Stop. I can get the key,” you weren’t sure if you actually could, “You need to go. Just tell me where you cut the hole.” 

He stops trying to wedge the door with the knife so you could hear him clearly. 

“There’s three big bins out by the back,” he points to the direction, “I cut a hole behind the middle one. It’ll take you to the south forest. I’ll wait there.” 

“No,” you interject, “No. Wait for me in the mountains.” 

He rolls his eyes and picks up his work of jamming his knife in the door. 

“You’ll never make it up the mountain by yourself.” 

“At home then! Just stay away from here.” 

The plea was for both you and him. 

“You can get the key and get out?” He asks in a serious tone, looking at you once more. 

“Yes.” you confirm. 

He sighs as he pockets his knife, “When?” 

The Commander kept his keys by the night stand. You think you could remember which one opened the door. 

“Soon.” 

“A week. I’ll give you a week before I come back with something stronger.” 

You nod your head in agreement.

“Thank you, Edmund.” 

“You’re my girl.” he remarks as it was an obvious motivation for his work. 

You shiver at his words. 

————

You don’t sleep well at night so you have taken to having naps while Coriolanus is at work. He is home more often now. He had got ahead of a considerable amount of work which meant nights were spent together. 

Most nights he would take you walking around the compound for fresh air after dinner. You tried to memorize the key he used to unlock the door but there were so many that all looked the same. You wondered how he even knew.

He is anxious now that he found out you were sleeping in the living room and has taken to chaining you together as you slept. He cuffed one of his wrists and one of yours, making sleep impossible as he basically slept on top of you now. 

It was only three days after Edmunds promise, that you woke from your nap with the sight of Coriolanus packing your clothes into a bag. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Was he moving you to your own apartment? 

He drops the bag and comes over to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Hey,” he greets “You need to get up now. We are going to go away for the weekend.”

You sit up away from him, “Where are we going?”

Vacations were not a thing in District 12. 

“The Capitol?” you guessed. 

“No, not the Capitol.” 

You sigh in relief. Still he had not answered your question. 

“Where then?” 

He gets up from the bed and zips the bag up. 

“Do you not trust me?”

You get up from the bed to see he had laid a dress on the end of the bed for you. 

‘‘I just want to know where we are going.” 

“You took me to a special place, and now I want to take you somewhere, okay?”

Throwing the duffle bag filled with spare clothes for you and him, over his shoulder he exits the room. 

You change and his way out to the living room. There would be no point in fighting. You were going to find out where he was taking you at some point. 

The living room was empty, but the door swung wide. 

With the door being left open for you, you took the stairs down to where Coriolanus was loading the back of a patrolling truck. 

You saw a small cooler of food, one of the old pans, bedding and pillows, a small bag of toiletries and the clothes bag. He had packed in a hurry. The bags were thrown in without care. They were far apart from each other and more items than not were upside down.

“We’re not coming back?” you ask. 

“We’ll stay a night or two.” Or however long it takes to find Lucy Gray’s body.

He holds open the door and you follow his silent command to get in. You spot the rifle tucked between the seat and the console. It makes you rethink your decision of complacency. 

“My special place didn’t need a gun.”

He takes your arm and gently pushes you forward into the car, but you tug back against him. 

“It’s nothing. Just a precaution.” 

He gently pushes you again to move. 

“Get in.” he barks. 

“No.”

He takes a harsh grip this time on your arm and leads you back to the cage where Peacekeepers kept people who disturbed the peace.

He pushed you into the small space amongst the bags. 

It was big enough that you could sit with your back against the wall but it would only leave an inch of space between your head and the roof. The back was caged in so the rebels couldn’t reach the officers in front, and the length was long enough to fit three or four rebels at one time. Albeit a tad uncomfortably. 

You bang on the metal divide as he slams the door shut and begins to drive. 

“Coriolanus, you don’t have to do this. I could just go home.” 

He drives through the middle of the district to the out of bounds forest, where Peacekeepers were waiting armed and ready by the electric fence line. They buzz the parting gate open and seal it shut again once the car passes. 

Past the gate, it was just you and him. What would he want to take you to a secluded forest for. A million reasons run through your mind and they all end with you dead. 

“How are you doing back there?” he calls from the front. The car as it powers through the harsh conditions almost drowns him out. 

“Where are you taking me?” you demand to know, “What’s out past the boundary line that you set up?”

Was he hiding something out there? Was that the reason he set up the fence? Not to keep people contained but to hide something. 

“There’s a cabin I know of. There’s a lake too. I think you’ll like it.”

You watch from the front window, looking out for landmarks that could lead you back home. The dark clouds that roll fourth threaten to destroy anything you can remember. 

The path to the cabin is ingrained in his mind since he walked back a different man. He weaved through the gaps in the forest without looking at his father’s compass. 

“Did Lucy Gray like it?” 

He ignores your comment and you don’t speak again. 

—---

When you reach the cabin it is old and run down. Vines cover the walls of the house, patching up the rotten wood. 

Coriolanus seemed nervous to be there. His hand flexes as it reaches for you.

The door had been sealed shut with moisture and it took three hard shoulder charges from Coriolanus to get it open. He invites you in with a hand on your shoulder, shutting the door behind you before retaking your hand in his.

You could smell the dust as you stood in the small living room. The cabin was small and colorless. Mostly everything was made from wood. From the small kitchen table and chairs to the bed you could see in the adjacent room. The only thing that was metal was an old fire stove, and a few decorative pieces.  

Leaves had blown in from holes in the roof scattering the floor. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. You would have thought the place was abandoned since its creation if there weren’t bags upon the floor. Despite its appearance, someone had been here before you and Coriolanus. 

He lets go of you to rush over to the bags. He unzips one and pulls out a colorful dress. The way he lets out a laughy breath sends shivers down your spine. 

“Lucy Gray’s?” you ask but you already know the answer. He had taken her here to kill her, maybe under the guise of running away together, and now he has taken you here to kill you. 

Coriolanus shrugs as if he doesn’t know and shoves the dress back in the bag. 

“Whoever it belongs to is long gone.” 

He continues to look through the bags for anything missing while you glance at the door. 

You think about making a run for it. Surely you would have a better chance in the forest then against him. You feel your feet slowly turning in the direction of the door when his speaking interrupts you. 

“I’ll take this junk outside.” he gathers the bags, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other two in his hands. 

You don’t speak as he comes over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing your uptight demeanor. 

“Fine. You?” Was he being driven to a quiet rage with thoughts of Lucy Gray?

“Perfect.”

He places a quick kiss to your lips before carrying the bags outside. 

You look at the gun on the floor. If you ran now while he was busy outside it would give you a head start. Surely he would need to come back to get the gun before chasing you. He couldn’t do it with his bare hands. 

You could feel his hands around your throat and knew he could. 

You bolt through the door and down the old steps but run into him as he comes back up. 

He had only taken to throwing the old bags by the side of the house, planning to sink them alongside of the guns in the lake at a later point. 

“Whoa” he stops you with his hands, “Where are you going?”

“The bags. To get the bags out of the car.” 

He looks out to the forest as if he had heard something. 

“Get back inside. I’ll get them.” 

You watch him from the window bring the items in. He was cautious and kept glancing at the forest. 

You did not want to end up a ghost among the forest with Lucy Gray. You wanted to live. To go up to the mountains with Edmund and be shielded in his arms. 

As Coriolanus finished his second trip with the bags, he used an old chair still there and pinned it under the door handle to prevent it from opening. 

You promised yourself that you would make it to the mountains. Coriolanus would not kill you and bury your body next to Lucy Gray. 

You felt as if you were in the Hunger Games.

You were going to be the victor.

Coriolanus looked unbothered by these thoughts as he tried to light a fire in the old stove. 

He gets it going and as he puts his matches back in, he notices you still in a tense form. 

“It’s only for tonight. We’ll go home tomorrow afternoon.”

“Will we?” you spat. “Why are we here anyway?” 

‘To kill me. Say it, you coward’, you thought. 

“It’s quiet,’’ he suggests, “Some place quiet where we can be alone.”

“Is this where you took Lucy Gray?”

He slams a pan down on top of the hot surface. 

“I didn’t know Lucy Gray. I’ve told you.”  He opens a pack of sausages and throws them down without care before tossing the leftover garlic potatoes you cooked the night before in as well. 

“Did you bury her out here?” you push. 

He ignores you. Pushing around a sausage with the knife he used to cut open the packet. 

“Are you going to bury me out here?”

“I have never hurt you.”

“You starved me, hit me, nearly killed my mother. You call that not hurting me?” 

You felt your blood boiling. It was one thing to make your life a living hell, it was another to deny he did it. 

He drops the knife and turns to face you. 

“Have you starved under me? Has your mother?” he hits his chest with his next words, “You eat because of me. You sleep in a bed that I paid for. I provide for you. Me.” 

He stalks towards you causing you to stumble back. You hit a wall but feel a rusted piece of metal under your fingertips. You grab it from the desk but keep it low from his sight. 

“Everything has happened to you because you strayed, and you want me to apologize for it?”

“I want you to admit to what you did.” What you are about to do, so I don’t feel guilty. 

He grabs hold of the bar and pulls it from you. 

“I did not kill Lucy Gray,” he said earnestly. But he wished he had. 

He throws the rusted object across the room and it lands with a heavy clang. 

“And I am not going to kill you. You don’t think you’ve done enough already to get yourself hanged? I protected you from that. Not Edmund.”

Your breath hitches as you hear his name. 

The smell of burning and sounds of angry popping infiltrates the room. Coriolanus leaves you to deal with it. The sausages were charred on one side but raw on the other. After a quick flip, Coriolanus returned his attention to you. 

“Sit on the ground, by my boots.’’

You eye your weapon on the other side of the room but he was stronger, faster, you would never get it and wield it in time. Night time would be the best chance of escape. The cabin had no lock on it, and you were sure you could make it to the mountains from here. But first you had to get Coriolanus off his guard. He still carried his cuffs with him. Escape would be impossible if you were locked in place. 

So you sit on the ground and wrap yourself around his leg as he cooks. 

He liked the feeling of you anchoring him. It made him feel secure. 

He cooks in silence, tossing the items in the pan so they wouldn’t burn. Cutting a sausage in half, he could see it was done, but he had forgotten plates. 

Instead he takes the pan off the stove and carefully sits down across from you on the floor. The pan sizzles as it is placed between you on the floor. It didn’t matter if it burnt the wooden floor. The cabin was so run down, it hardly made a difference. Coriolanus pokes a potato with his knife and brings it up to you. 

He wouldn’t give you the knife after the pipe incident. You bite the hot potato off and Coriolanus had his turn. 

You could tell the rocky temper was still floating around in him. He had calmed but his face still spoke of his annoyance. His necklace overlaid his shirt, your ring called out to you. 

“Give me your dog tag.”

“What?” he responds. 

“If you’re not going to kill me, then let me wear your necklace. I’ll give it back at the compound, but if you do kill me, you’ll be forced to wear your guilt around your neck.”

You wanted your ring back before you left him forever. 

“I am not going to kill you.” he sighs, taking a bite of sausage. 

“Then give me the necklace.”

You hold your hand out for it, which Coriolanus eyes. 

Dropping the knife into the pan, he maneuvers the tag of his neck, bypassing your hand and dropping it over your head. 

You felt the ring scratch you as it landed. 

“Happy now? Will you stop acting crazy?”

You hold the pendants in your hand and nod in agreement

. 

The rest of the night was uneventful. He sets up lamps as it darkens and teaches you a card game. You lost every round, even the ones he tried to let you win. It was a strategy game and you didn’t have the head for it.

The game only lasted an hour before you were helping Coriolanus set up the bed. He had brought along air beds from the Capitol that inflated and deflated by a push of a button. He pushes them together and you made a bed out of the queen sized bedwear from the apartment. 

As he went to sleep with you wrapped safely in his arm, he thought about how he was going to get you to stay inside while he went searching the woods.

He couldn’t tell you what he was looking for or who he was looking for. Nor could he take you with him under the guise of a leisurely walk. If Lucy Gray was out there he didn’t want you anywhere near her. He knew there were four more other cabins in these woods. Just because she hadn’t come back for her mother’s dress, didn’t mean she wasn’t out there. If anything, if she was alive it would be the last place she went back to. She was smart, she would have known that Coriolanus would one day come back to find the mystery of Lucy Gray. She was probably trying to throw him off her scent. 

You wiggle, pulling the blanket higher over you and it brings his attention closer to home.

Maybe he could lock you in the back of the car while he searched. 

He decided he was going to do something nice for you after this. For putting you through it all. Get your measurements and commission Tigris for a new dress, perhaps. Or buy you a necklace of your own. 

 Maybe both. He had the money for it for the first time in his life. And he did owe you an apology and a thank you for being here with him tonight. 

He could see how scared you were thinking that your protector was turning against you. After yesterday, he perhaps should have waited a day or two before taking you away. He at least  should have been more gentle in the approach, so you didn’t think he would harm you for his anger towards Edmund. 

Coriolanus understood him in a way that saved him from being shot. He was just looking out for you, the same way Coriolanus would have. He and Edmund both wanted to take care of you but your heart only had place for one. And that spot rightfully, and wholly belonged to Coriolanus Snow. Edmund did his job of keeping you alive for Coriolanus and he was rewarded when the bullet went behind him and not into his skull. But now it was Coriolanus’s turn and both Edmund and you needed to learn that. 

Coriolanus mind slowed as you stilled beneath him. 

You will yourself to be still. You count your breaths out to mime sleeping. Coriolanus’s hold on your shoulder falls as he sleeps but you don’t make a move just yet. Half-scared that he would wake when you got up. 

It wasn’t until it started to pour rain that you decided to stop stalling and make a move. 

Carefully you rose, and the chains of his arms fell off you. The rain pelting down covered the sound of the air mattress as you moved off it. 

The rain, as it turns out, was a blessing and not a punishment. 

You had left your boots and dress next to you for easy access. Stripping yourself of your nightdress, you quickly change and tie up your boots. 

Coriolanus had taken to sleeping in his underpants, now that you weren’t in a position to indirectly persuade him to dress in his nightwear. He liked the feeling of skin to skin with you but you beg him to keep his t-shirt on. You hated the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. He obliged. 

Your boots squeak against the old floor boards as you walk across it to the door. Causing you to wince at every step, but you do manage to reach the door without waking him.

You try to gently tug the chair from under the door but it was jammed. Turning back to see him still sleeping, you tug a bit harder, but only the door knob jiggles. You cringe as he moves slightly on his back. You would have a harder time escaping the compound than here. There were no armed guards or sniffing dogs. Just you and him, and you had a head start. You had to pluck up the courage now. 

The chair scraps against the floor but you manage to get it free. 

There is a second where nothing moves or makes sound. You almost think you got away scot-free.

“What are you doing?” You hear his voice and turn to see him sitting up dazed. 

Your answer is the throwing open of the door and running out. You hear him jump up as you do. 

He yanks on his Commander’s pants and boots, leaving the laces untied. 

It was too late by the time he got out you were nowhere to be seen. 

He felt his heart jump from his chest. This couldn’t be happening.  It was just a bad dream that he would wake from. But the icy water pouring down on him told him that it was true. You had betrayed him like Lucy Gray. 

Lucy Gray. What if she was out in the woods where you ran? She was the victor of the hunger games, you were a lost lamb. You wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She would tear you to shreds if she thought she could get back at Coriolanus. 

He thinks about returning to the cabin and retrieving his gun but you were already too far out of reach. 

He yells out for you. 

The rain poured down soaking you to the bone, but covered your tracks as you ran. 

“Y/N!” he screams. You battle the rain as you ran through the forest. Pushing yourself to go faster. 

“Hey, it’s dangerous out here. Lets go back to the cabin. Talk about this.” 

His wild eyes scan the area for any sign of movement. The rain hindered his vision but he could hear the faint sound of branches snapping under your foot. 

“Do you honestly think you can run from me? That I won’t find you?” 

You don’t answer and he screams out some more

“Y/N! Come out now! This isn’t funny!” 

You stumble as your dress caught on a tree, it grazes your arm as you pull, leaving a nasty cut. 

He screams loudly out of frustration. The rain seemed to slow down to a trickle as he did, as if it was also scared.  

“You stupid, little girl” you can hear him as he walks, he was catching up. You couldn’t outrun him so you slowed your pace, focusing your efforts on hiding. 

“When I catch you…” he doesn’t finish his sentence. 

You press yourself against the tree. Your arm stung from the cut and your lungs burned from your efforts. 

“Hey, who do you think will reach your mother first?” he taunts. 

 You knew it wouldn’t be him. She was safe in the mountains and soon you would be too. 

“Y/N. That’s enough.” 

You slink to the next tree and focus on quieting your breathing. His footsteps got louder as he gained ground. 

“Y/N, I said that’s enough!”  He picks up a large tree branch and walks forward with it. 

“You’re going to get lost in the forest. There’s worse things than me out there.” 

He imagined you wandering, lost amongst the trees. Lucy Gray, savage and wild, following you. You wouldn’t see her as a threat when she introduced herself. You were too sweet. You would willingly follow her back to wherever she was hiding and by the time you sense the danger of her, it would be too late. 

He needed to find you. To make sure you were alright. That Lucy Gray hadn’t got her hands on the only pure thing in his life. 

“Look it’s not too late. We can just forget this happened. Go back to the compound.” he offers but you knew it wasn’t true. 

You hold your brother's ring in your hand and make an attempt to move forward. 

You made it to the next tree but hear Coriolanus stop walking. 

With the rain slowing, it was harder not to make a noise. 

A loud banging spooked you as he threw the wood against the tree you were hiding behind. You knew you should have stayed still, he was only testing, but your feet took off before your mind could command them not too. 

He felt better seeing you run off. You ran uninjured and with no one following you. 

He takes off after you, determined not to lose sight again.

Both of you run through the forest and rain. You felt as though he might eat you alive if he caught you, but he was faster. All too soon, you feel hands on your waist, pulling you down. You scream as you sink into the mud, trashing under his weight.

He sits on your thighs and keeps your hands pinned against the dirt floor. 

“What were you thinking?” He spat. You had never seen him look so upset. His face scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes looked down at you in a crazy panic. 

“How could you be so stupid?” 

You toss under him, screaming at him to release you. 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” 

You kick your feet in an attempt to buck him off, but he was too heavy. 

“Shut up,” he grabs your jaw and stills it in his direction, “You stupid, stubborn, fool of a girl. What was your plan? Huh? Wander around the forest and hope you make it back to District 12?”

You don’t answer and he tightens his hold. 

“It was foolish. What if something got you in the forest?’’

What if Lucy Gray got you in the forest. 

“Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?” 

“I don’t care,” you cry. 

“You don’t care?” he says, astonished.

He sits back off you and pulls you up by your arms. 

“When you were hungry, I cared.” he pulled you along back to the cabin. 

“When you didn’t have money for rent, I cared.” You wriggle your arm, but his hold was too tight. 

“Clothes for the winter, medicine for your mother. I cared. And what do I get for it?”

You latch yourself onto a tree. It grounds you as he tries to tug you off it. 

“All I ever wanted from you was for you to care.” 

He yanks you off the tree and shoves you forward. 

“You would think after everything, I would be entitled to it.” 

“Coriolanus, please let go of me.” you buck against him. 

He tightens his hold, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground. 

He throws you across the floor as you reenter the cabin, going to get his cuffs from his bag. You scramble away from him as he gets closer but he stands over you, trapping your wrist in the cuff and hooking it around the leg of the oven and then trapping your wrists. 

He stood back over you.

“Look at you,” he spat, “You wouldn’t have lasted the night out there.” 

The cut on your arm bleed down, your hair was tangled with twigs and mud. You looked pitiful. 

“Let me go, Coriolanus. I won’t tell anyone.”

He lowers himself down to the ground, placing his knees either side of you. He places the weight of him on your legs. You hated the feeling, as now you were fully immobilized.

He speaks slowly and dangerously with your face in his hands. 

“If you ever try to leave me again, there will be nothing you could do that would save Edmund”.

Do you understand?” 

You nod, but it seemed to anger him. 

“I asked if you understood,” he yells. 

“Yes. Yes. I understand.” 

“How stupid could you be? So worried about me killing you, you decide to do it yourself.” 

“I wasn’t thinking,” you just wanted him to get off you. His weight was crushing. 

“I doubt you’ve ever thought something useful in your life. Use to everybody else doing it for you.” 

His hands tangle in your hair forcing you to keep still. 

“I’ll do your thinking for you from now on. Your next independent thought, I’ll smash from your skull, understand?” 

“Yes.” you cry. The night proved too much for you. The hope of getting away now crushed under his foot. 

Your chest heaves with sobs. The panic of being a sitting duck waiting to be killed courses through you, it was a choking sensation. 

He takes his wet form off of you and towards the door. 

The night was getting to him too. He felt as if history was repeating itself. Back in the forest with little control.  

He goes to the side of the house where the bags layed and stuffed them with as many heavy rocks as he could find. 

They were heavy as he picked them back up and takes the old boat out to the middle of the lake. The bags sink easily with the rocks, and join the guns at the bottom. His past was officially buried. He now only had the future to look forward to. A future with him as President of Panem, and you by his side. 

He rows the boat back to shore. The rain soaked him again and his shirt clung uncomfortably on his skin. It sticks the cold to his chest and his mind floats back to you inside. You were sure to catch a cold if he didn’t move fast. 

Entering the house, he could see he was correct from the way your body shivered. 

Wiping off the water from his face with his soaked shirt, he goes to his bag and pulls out a fresh shirt for himself. He could still hear you crying as he changed into dry shirt and underpants. 

He takes one of his long sleeve off-duty button ups and a towel he wanted to be used from swimming in the lake and brings them over to you. 

He had brought you a spare change of clothes but after tonight he felt like he needed the extra security and you needed a extra reminder. 

You flinch as he drops down on his knees. 

“I am going to uncuff you so you can change.” 

You sniffle and he takes it as confirmation to move. With your hands unlocked, you battle with Coriolanus over your clothes. He grasps the end of your dress, beginning to hike it up but you push down the fabric. 

“I can-” you manage. 

“I do the thinking for you, remember.” 

You don’t fight as he yanks the wet dress over you, throwing it behind him carelessly. He keeps his eyes as forward as he can as he slides the sleeves up your arms. Only looking down as he does up the buttons. It was oddly gentlemanly and you wonder if he did it for his sake or yours. 

“Stop,” you beg, as you feel his fingers hook over the elastic of your underwear. He doesn’t, going as far as to help you put on a fresh pair. He cuffs you once more to the oven before bringing one of the blankets and pillows back over. 

He lays the blanket over you without a word and props the pillow under your head before returning to makeshift bed. 

He lays on his side away from you, but you gather he doesn’t sleep, as an hour or so later he brings his pillow and blanket and curls up against your side. 

He gets his rest, but you are left in a state of shock that hinders your sleep. 

————-

Early the next morning you woke from the sound of Coriolanus stomping in the kitchen. He was eating beef jerky for breakfast. You wake with the sight of him leaning back against the wood counter, towards you. You try to sit up as much as you can while being tied down. 

Looking at the food, your stomach grumbles. 

“Hungry?” he asks. 

You nod in hope that mercy would be given to you. 

None was.

“Imagine how hungry you would be lost in the woods.”

“I would have made it back.” you contend. 

He strips off another piece as he answers, “You would be dead if I didn’t find you.” 

He throws the packet on the counter. It sits unbalanced on the side. 

“Are we going home?” You saw the bags were neatly packed in a pile and you thought calling the compound ‘home’ might earn you some beef jerky. 

“I have something I have to do. We’ll be back by this afternoon.” 

“What do you have to do?” 

“None of your business.” he snaps. 

The conversation ended as he walks over to the bags and picked up his gun that was resting against them. 

You watch him, dressed down in his white t-shirt and army pants, as he swings his rifle over his shoulder. 

“I’ll be back soon.” he comments, half way out the door. 

He walks through the forest at a slow pace. Careful not to miss the smallest bit of detail. 

Retracing the steps of that day, he makes it to where he was bitten by the snake. 

Time had overtaken the hunting ground. There was now grass where the earth once was.The branches and trees had healed from the damage done. 

He eyes the place where he attempted to shoot Lucy Gray and aims his gun like he did. 

He half-expected to see her in the space waiting for him, but it was just ground again. No clues were left for him to find.

There was no rotten smell overtaking his nose. No scrap of clothing left for him to find, or anything to indicate human life had been moving through the forest. 

He continues to walk through. 

The mockingjays squawk above him. If he was a better shot, he would have taken the time to kill at least some of them. But you would hear the gunfire and panic. 

With no sign of Lucy Gray, he continues his way up to the other cabins. He searches each one but they look untouched and run down. The heat of the sun beats down on him as he makes his way back. It was early afternoon by the time he had satisfied himself that Lucy Gray was nowhere in the woods. She could have made it back to District 12, but it was unlikely. He kept tabs on the Covey for months after he got back. He surely would have known if they were hiding her. She must have gone north like planned. He wondered if she made it, or if her body is now one with the earth. 

Either way, she was gone and Coriolanus could shake her from his memory. 

When he returned back to the cabin, you were busy yanking on your chains. 

He presses the point of the gun into your ankle, pinning it against the floor. You don’t try moving  under threat. He slides the gun slowly up your leg, over your calf, over your knee, inching up to the middle of your thigh under his shirt. You pulled against your chains, but don't verbally acknowledge you were scared. 

“Open your legs wider.” he demands. Instead you squeeze your thighs tighter together. 

He pushes the gun with more force against you. 

“I am in a very good mood. You would hate to ruin that wouldn’t you?” 

Deciding you would, you separate your legs. He nestles himself between you, pulling you closer by your thighs so your legs are past his hips. 

Thankfully the gun settles on the floor.

“I think we should talk about last night.” 

You shake your head no and he gives you a serious look. 

“Every time I give you an inch, you take a mile.” 

“I thought you were going to kill me.” 

“I have been nothing but patient and kind to you.”

You wanted to laugh at him but forced it down. It was not too late for you to end up dead in the forest. 

“I know, Coriolanus. And I am sorry. It’s just no one has ever cared for me like this before”. 

He laughs gently at you, “You’re trying at least.”

“It scared me. But if you give me another chance, I promise I won’t disappoint you.” 

He lays his body down on yours, keeping his weight off you by planking on his elbows. 

“You can have as many chances as it takes.” he promises, softly.

“Just one more.” you return in the same small voice. 

He kisses you as if you had earnestly promised to live up to his expectations. 

But really what you promised is that you would allow yourself one more chance of escape before he made good on his promise to kill your mother and Edmund. If you lead to their death, then you would follow them shortly after. 

---------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

taglist:

@sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw

@mrsjobarnes

@greekyoghurtwithberries

@namelesslosers

@urfavnoirette

 @aleemendoza2425-blog

@hiatuswhore

@jacesvelaryons

@swimmjacket

@brooks-lin

@dawnissunnysideup

@astarborntowrite

@someonefromwutheringheights

[maiiiwrites]

★ | A TWISTED SURPRISE . JPEG

PAIRING ! edmund pevensie x f!reader

IN WHICH you entertained your lovers big slip up

it was a quiet day in cair paravel. everyone had taken the day off to relax after the tiring week. with all the meeting and formal events planned, it's difficult to do so.

you enjoyed the silent halls on these rare occasions. no one frantically running to their duties from one place to another. a book in hand and the sun shining through the library windows, it was the perfect morning.

that is until your lover barges in the library a little bit too bizarrely. he takes a moment to catch his breath and meets your eyes. "oh aslan, that's your 'i did something bad face' isn't it?" you sighed, forgetting your book.

"it's not as bad as you think love," edmund protested. "what did you do ed."

"i might have made a tiny slip up.." he started. carefully choosing his next words. "i accidentally called you my wife while i was talking with the advisors and our people have been sending wedding gifts."

the worry and panic in his features made you burst into laughter. "you haven't even asked for my hand in marriage," you chuckled.

the corner of his lips curled upwards, a sweet lopsided smile. "and i plan to do so, my love."

edmund offered his hand for you to take. a silent invitation to see what all this madness is about. you playfully rolled your eyes at his tactics, intertwining your hand together.

you walked side by side through the castle corridors. quietly asking how he planned to spend the rest of the day, with the intention of asking him on a date.

"i plan to spend it with you, ofcourse."

you smiled cheerfully, squeezing his hand as a silent 'i love you'. he lit up at the gesture and lifted your interlocked hands to place a soft kiss on your knuckles.

finally arriving at the grand ballroom. you peaked your head inside and found piles of gifts. some neatly placed in stacks, while others were on the verge of falling.  "you certainly weren't lying about the abundant amount," you lightly chuckled. quickly saving those in desperate need of stability.

edmund smiled warmly, completely smitten by your sweetness. he watched as you shifted from a corner to another. only stopping once a gift caught your attention.

you stared fondly at a certain present given by a little girl and her father. a handmade music box. attached to it is a letter, decorated with little doodles. you gently unfolded the parchment. revealing the sentimental and heart warming message. written in beautiful handwriting are the words, "may your love last for eternity."

"ed! come quick!" you called. but, there was no response or small scurrying of his feet towards you.

so you tried again, "darling! you have to see this." you softly creased the beautifully crafted box. inside, you found a figure of you and edmund. twisting the handle to reveal its magic. a narnian melody played as mini you and edmund came to life, dancing and waltzing.

you smiled love struck and giddy from the warmth spreading through your body. "edmund, you seriously have to see this—" your sentence being cut short by your boyfriend on one knee.

"oh aslan.. you planned this didnt you? you sly king."

he smirked, already sure of your answer "is that a no?" you were probably ugly crying but edmund looked at you like you were a goddess.

"yes," you mumbled, trying to hold back a sob. edmund chuckled at your response, "yes?"

"yes ill marry you king edmund the just."

tears are now flowing down your cheeks. you threw yourself into his arms causing him to tumble back. he smiled fondly, kissing the side of your head. your cries muffled agaisnt his shoulder.

you hugged him till your cries turned into small hiccups. pulling back to pout at your now, fiance. "i hate you," you hiccuped.

edmund couldn't hide the amusement in his features, "we both know that's far from how you truly feel."

you huffed, "you plotted all this on purpose."

"i love you too darling," he giggled. swaying you in his embrace.

ed is right though, irritated was the furthest thing you felt right now. not with his arms secured around you. you melted against him, surrounded by his love and warmth.

"look at me love," ed whispered, tilting your chin up. he leaned down to press a soft peck on your lips. tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"i did plan all this. i told everyone beforehand that i was going to propose, and asked their help."

you watched him slide a beautifully crafted ring. fall like leaves engraved to signify the season of your anniversary and now engagement. center is a carnelian crystal, something that reminded him of you. his source of courage, energy, and motivation. edmund softly brushed his fingers on your ring. admiring the way it rested on your finger.

"now, let's go celebrate our engagement with a ride in the woods," he smiled.

a dopey grin spread across your face, "glady." you gently put away the music box, still playing its music. happily rushing through the corridors. hand in hand with your soon to be husband

© maiiiwrites — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[wrenwreads]

a glass... or two!

sick of seeing his little brother and their best-friend just simply ogle at each other, peter decides to take matters into his own hands.

request for @edmundpevensielover : EDMUND PEVENSIE X READER

LOTS OF FLUFF AND ED AND READER HIDE THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER MAYBE SHE (READER) GETS TRICKED BY PETER (AT THE PEVENSIES' CHRISTMAS PARTY) TO DRINK AND SHE (READER) GETS DRUNK AND MAKES OUT WITH EDMUND AND THEY PRETEND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN AND SUSAN CATCHES THEM MAKING OUT AGAIN.

pairing/s: edmund pevensie x fem!reader

warning/s: mentions of alcohol and reader being drunk a bit tipsy

genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers (or is it?)

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this has been in my requests for god knows how long, i do apologise for only getting to it now. i did change it up a bit from what anon originally requested, hope that's okay!

How do you make two obviously in love individuals realise their feelings for each other when the said two individuals are also too oblivious for their own good?

That was the same question Peter had going on in his head.

It has been too long.

Way too long since his little brother — Edmund, admitted he has feelings for Y/N — someone he has grown close to over the years, who also happens to be Edmund’s best friend since forever. Also including the fact that same Y/N did the exact same thing Edmund did, only a week later.

Some would say that Peter is in a huff. Jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he walks down the halls of the castle towards the library. A bit too niche of a topic for him to be in a huff about — but he's only human after all, and only wants happiness for the two. Gratefully, as a king, he can hide the reason behind his frustration by blaming his duties — claiming they were starting to get too much. People seem to buy it, except for two. 

“Peter, are you alright? You’ve been sighing like a mad man since you sat down.”

Lucy’s question only had the young king sighing again, not missing the way Lucy and Susan shared a glance before him.

“It’s those two,” he answers, nodding towards the two figures who had seemed to tuck themselves against each other under one of the castle’s big library shelves.

Both Lucy and Susan follow Peter’s gaze, faux fatigue lacing their shoulders as they watch Y/N and Edmund share fond looks to each other as they immerse into a novel. Y/N was holding the book, conveniently keeping it up between the two of them to read. Edmund had himself stood as support for the young girl who had relaxingly rested upon his chest, his arm behind her — flat against the surface to keep his weight on, allowing both of them to stay upright.

It would be a moment for couples — only if they were one.

“Who do you think will confess first?” Lucy loudly wondered. Although, not too loud to pop the bubble Edmund and Y/N had themselves in. Peter hummed, suddenly alert as if he wasn’t just huffing a few minutes ago. His sisters looked at him, eyes waiting for him to say something.

“What? Isn’t it obvious? I’m sure Y/N will say something first.”

Susan silently scoffs, mouth opening as if someone had just offended her. “Don’t think so lowly of Edmund, would you? I know it’s going to be him.”

“Ed, do you know what colours Peter’s planning for this year?” the young woman asks as she welcomes herself into Edmund’s bedroom. Upon hearing no answer and only the sounds of water running, she assumes he’s still busy giving himself a wash. Thinking he’ll be taking a while, she sits on the four-poster — fussing herself around as she gets comfortable, crossing her legs underneath herself. Relaxing in her seat, she opens the book she had on her hold — continuing where she had left off.

Getting herself lost in the plot, she fails to realise the sound of water stopping nor the fact that Edmund had come out of the washroom and had asked a question himself. It was only when the mattress beneath her dipped did she look up from her page, seeing Edmund looking fresh — wet hair dripping all over his sheets. “You’re not laying down with wet hair, are you?” Y/N asks, eyes narrowing at the sly smile growing on Edmund’s face. “No.” he simply answered, further provoking her as he slowly ascends on to his pillows.

Y/N only sighs, rolling her eyes as she stands up from her position to grab the stray towel the boy had half-mindedly discarded. “Come on,” she says, tapping his thigh lightly, “this way you won’t be waking up tomorrow, complaining about a mind-blowing head ache you have.”

Edmund scoffs at her dramatics, swinging his legs off to the edge of the bed. Y/N settles herself between his thighs, hands under the towel as she carefully dries Edmund’s hair.

He sighs, eyes closing and his hands making its way to her waist. He keeps them there, finding himself getting drowsy at the feeling of Y/N’s fingers through his hair and the soft humming she emits. “I like it when you dry my hair for me,” he whispers, eyes still closed. Y/N laughs softly, giving his hair once last swipe before putting the towel aside. Combing the strands lightly, she finishes her routine with a soft kiss to his head. “I know you do.”

“You’ve really outdone yourself this year, Pete! The party’s amazing!”

Peter laughs, amused at the unnecessary volume Y/N spoke. “I can hear you perfectly you know. No need to shout,” he teases, laughing again at the pout forming on her lips. “Do you know where Edmund went?! I’ve been looking for him all night, I have something to say to him!”

His eyes widen at the girl’s question. Could this finally be it?

As if on cue, Edmund presents himself — although a bit tipsy himself, not as much as Y/N is though. “What’s going on?”

“Ed!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around Edmund’s torso. The boy manages to catch himself from falling, giggling to himself as he too reciprocates the hug. “Oh dear, how many have you had?”

Y/N removed herself from Edmund, hands on her hips as she appears to be deep in thought. Edmund looks at his brother for an answer, only that Peter remains silent. Raising his arms halfway up in the air feigning innocence. She suddenly gasps in her place, quickly spinning around to face Peter. “You gave me two! And then… I think I grabbed another two. And maybe… Idunnoanymore, Ithink…” her words began slurring into each other, earning a chuckle from both brothers. Edmund feels himself slowly sobering up at her antics, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. “It’s bed time, don’t you think?”

“No… nonono, notyet—”

Peter remains silent from where he had stood himself, not before moving a little further away from where the pair were standing. He watches as Edmund remains calm, a dopy smile on his face as he dotes on you and your blabbing. He mentally pats himself on the back, triumph enveloping him as he hopes his initial plan of getting you together (finally) happens.

“Come on, my love, just a few more steps…” Edmund encourages, guiding his very drunk girlfriend back to his bedroom in one piece.

One day he’ll get Peter’s head for this.

As soon as the door opens — Y/N escapes Edmund’s grasp, almost catapulting herself onto the bed. She relaxes herself, taking a few deep breaths in before sitting back up. “Do you think… they know?” she hiccups, eyes barely open to look at Edmund.

Edmund feels his heart swell at the sight, his eyes giving nothing but love as he slowly helps Y/N get ready for bed. “I don’t think so,” he begins, wiping a damp wash cloth over her face – a hand gingerly placed under her chin to keep her from swaying. “But I do think Peter wants us to quicken up a bit, be together officially. Maybe that’s why he gave you too many to drink.”

She lets out a small huff, a pout on her lips. “But we already are together, Ed. It’s not our fault they remain oblivious.”

“I know, my love. What about we tell them tomorrow? How does that sound? Surprise them during breakfast, hm?”

Y/N laughs, a sound never failing to sound like music to Edmund’s ears. “That’s… good…” yawns break her words apart. Edmund slowly guides her to lay down, ensuring his actions are not too sudden for her to suddenly feel nauseous. “Let’s go to bed then, now, shall we?”

Not even finished with his sentence and Y/N’s were already closed, hands tugging onto the blankets to snuggle herself in further. Edmund smiles, standing up from where he perched onto the edge of the bed to now get himself ready. Right as he enters the washroom, a question is suddenly asked.

 “Ed, are you even drunk?”

He just laughs, not having the heart yet to tell you that he had caught on to Peter’s game very early on to the night. Not that he can for your soft snores had followed your question aright after.

thank you so much for reading until the end! as always, leave your thoughts/comments - i love reading them. constructive criticism is appreciated! •.˚⚘ ⋆.*.ゞ

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

Like I did with the moral alignments, I thought I would make a post about why and how I sort characters into Hogwarts Houses! There are also quizzes so you can figure it out for yourself as well. I go into detail about each House, what they represent, their background and what it means to be sorted into a certain House. 

I hope you enjoy!

*just because I’m talking about Harry Potter doesn’t mean I align with the transphobic views of J.K. Rowling. There is no room for transphobia on my page, and I support the trans and LGBTQIA+ community*

Figuring out which Hogwarts House you belong to has been around since the HP series came out. But I think there’s more to it than simply choosing to be in ‘the brave house’ or ‘the smart house.’ I think it reveals a lot about a person - or rather, a large aspect. 

Here are a few tests for you to try, comment below what you got!

Test 1 (the ‘official’ Wizarding World quiz)

Test 2 (from IDRlabs, they have other personality quizzes as well!)

Test 3 (Here’s the full Pottermore quiz. The 1st quiz will only have a few questions, so that’s why I don’t think it’s fully accurate to take)

Test 4 (A really good one from Quotev, the questions/answers aren’t obvious)

Gryffindor: Do what is right. Hufflepuff: Do what is kind.  Ravenclaw: Do what is wise. Slytherin: Do what is necessary.

𝐆𝐑𝐘𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑

“ Where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Fire

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor’, Godric Gryffindor. 

Dwelled at Godric’s Hollow

Was an accomplished dueller

A fair man, he believed that any child who displayed magical abilities before their 11th birthday should be able to attend Hogwarts.

Gryffindor was the original owner of the Sorting Hat

Gryffindor also had a sword made, which would present itself to any true Gryffindor in a moment of need.

He was allegedly the best friend of Slytherin before he left Hogwarts

Godric will always be known for his accomplished skills in battle, and his fight against Muggle discrimination in the wizarding world.

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Courage

Bravery

Standing up for what you believe in - even if your voice shakes. 

Caring about the greater good 

Daring/Bold 

Having a deep need to do the right thing 

Standing out from the crowd

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Lucy Pevensie

Thor

Mulan

Katniss Everdeen

Merida

Batman/Bruce Wayne

Buffy Summers

Chandler Bing

𝐇𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐔𝐅𝐅

“ You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal. Those patient Hufflepuffs are true. And unafraid of toil. “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Earth

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘From valley broad,’ Helga Hufflepuff

A kind and warm woman who believed in loyalty, patience and hard-work as the best abilities a person can possess

Was a brilliant cook and had remarkable skills for preparing food. Her recipes are still used in Hogwarts to this day.

She brought the house-elves to Hogwarts

Owner of Hufflepuff’s Cup

She was the best friend of Rowena Ravenclaw

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Loyalty

A need for justice. A lot of the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor traits are intertwined, but the difference is that Gryffindors don’t need to know a person to feel the need to look out for them. 

Patient 

Believe in fairness and equality (Helga Hufflepuff was the only founder who believed everyone should have a fair chance in being taught)

Accepting

Thinks about other people more than themselves

Would do anything at all, for family 

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Edmund Pevensie

Antman

Jay Gatsby

Okoye

Samwise Gamgee

Michael Scott

Alfred Pennyworth

Joey Tribbiani

Phoebe Buffay

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖

“ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind. “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Air

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘From Glen,’ Rowena Ravenclaw

A sharp and intelligent woman

She wanted to make Hogwarts the finest wizarding school in the world, teaching only those with the highest intelligence 

Rowena wore a diadem that was said to grant wisdom to the wearer, however, Rowena’s own daughter grew jealous of her mother’s incredible intelligence. Helena Ravenclaw stole her mother’s diadem and ran away, a fact that Rowena kept hidden from her fellow founders even when she fell ill.

Wanting to see Helena before she died, Rowena sent a man to bring Helena home. Unfortunately, that man was the Bloody Baron, who was in love with Helena, and stabbed her in a rage when she refused to come home.

 After Helena was tragically killed, legend tells us that Rowena Ravenclaw died of a broken heart. 

She was the best friend of Helga Hufflepuff

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Intelligence

Wisdom

Witty

Open-minded - don’t mix well with traditional, close-minded people. Ravenclaws see the big picture, they think about what things could be, rather than what things are. 

They think outside of the box, they don’t like being confined by rules or traditions. 

Unique 

Individualistic/Original

Actually very intuitive

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Susan Pevensie

Sherlock Holmes

Bruce Banner

James Bond

Annabeth Chase

Mary Poppins

Gandalf

Monica Geller

Ross Geller

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍

“ Or perhaps in Slytherin, You’ll make your real friends. These cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. “

𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: Water

𝐹𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦: ‘From Fen’, Salazar Slytherin

He believed strongly that only wizards of pure blood 

This belief caused a big rift between the founders, especially Gryffindor, which led to the depature of Salazar 

Despite his flaws, Salazar was a talented wizard, skilled in Legilemency and Parseltongue

Before he left, however, he created the Chamber of Secrets

𝐸𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘩𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑠:

Ambition

Determination

Cunning

Traditional

Strategic

Willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their goals; even using others for their gain. 

Not all Slytherins use these traits for personal gain, however, because the founder was evil - doesn’t mean every Slytherin is. 

Resourceful

Cleverness

Family means a lot to them

Desires respect

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒:

Peter Pevensie

Natasha Romanoff

Daenerys Targaryen

Lady MacBeth

Wednesday Addams

Selina Kyle/Catwoman 

Rachel Green

Harley Quinn

[bingwriterxo]

the shakespeare exhibit - drabble 4

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara enlists help to find you the perfect christmas gift

warnings: none

word count: 700+

author's note: for @melrodrigo -- good luck on ur exams!

previous part | next part

Tara’s phone was pressed against her ear as she paced around her bedroom, her feet surely burning a hole into the floor below. C’mon, c’mon, she thought, listening to the dial tone. Please pick up.

There were three days until Christmas; only three days until she was supposed to drive up to your parents’ house to celebrate the holiday. In theory, there wasn’t any issue with that. However, when Tara had woken up that morning, she had realized one very important thing: amongst all of her Christmas shopping, she had yet to get something for you.

“Hello?” The voice that answered the call was small, young, boyish. Tara perked up at the sound, grinning.

“Nate! Hi! It’s Tara,” she greeted.

There was a grumble on the other end of the line. “This is Eddie,” the boy said, clearly a bit annoyed at being mistaken for his brother. “What’s up, Tara?”

She sighed, embarrassed that she had to seek out your younger brothers, and admitted, “I need your help. Yours and Nate’s.”

“With what?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to get Y/N for Christmas,” she mumbled.

Eddie barked out a laugh, and Tara clamped her eyes shut, thinking, This is why you don’t ask a middle schooler for help. “Can you repeat that?” he giggled.

“You heard me the first time.”

After a moment of laughing, the boy said, “Yeah, okay. We can help you.”

Tara nodded. “Good. I’ll be there soon.”

* * *

Nearly four hours later, Tara was roaming the streets of your hometown, both of your brothers walking beside her sluggishly; they had already been helping her search for a present for an hour, and they were growing bored.

“What if you got her--” Nate started, only to be swiftly cut off by Tara.

“Nate,” she began, glancing at the boy, “if you suggest a real sword one more time--”

Nate shook his head, pointing his finger at a store on the other side of the street. “Look, they have a Shakespeare bust over there,” he said, his eyes sparkling with the same excitement you’d always have when you talked about the playwright.

Could he be any more like his sister? she wondered as she looked at the bust. It didn’t seem nearly as nice as the one you already had in your apartment, and she shook her head. “I don’t think she needs another one of those,” she said. More like I don’t think I need another one of those staring at me while we--

“You could get her a puppy,” Eddie suggested, a sly smile on his face.

Tara groaned. All of the suggestions that the boy had given had to do with animals, and with your busy schedule, she knew you couldn’t handle one of those. “Eddie, I can’t get your sister a puppy.”

Eddie frowned. “First you said no to the lizard, then the snake, then the cat, and now a puppy? What, do you not like animals or something?” He gasped. “Are you an animal hater?!”

With all of the self-control she could muster, Tara managed not to punch the boy. Thank god my mom only had two kids, she thought. I love these boys, but I would not have been able to handle a younger sibling.

“No,” she sighed. “I love animals, but your sister doesn’t have the time for any sort of pet right now,” Tara explained, her eyes continuing to scan the front windows of stores that they passed. “Besides--”

She was interrupted by Nate as he halted, throwing his arm out. “Hark!” he shouted, practically bouncing with excitement. Tara stopped short, whipping around as worry flooded through her. Is he hurt? I am so dead if he’s hurt.

Eddie took a little longer to finally pause, turning lazily and eyeing his brother. “Could you stop being such a nerdball?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Shut up, Edmund,” Nate retorted.

Almost as soon as the name slipped from his lips, Tara was rushing forward to pull the boys apart from each other, yelling, “No hitting!” repeatedly. When she finally got between them, she sighed.

“Is this normal for you two?” she asked, glancing at each boy.

Nate nodded. “Yup.”

“Oh, definitely,” Eddie added.

Tara huffed. “Great.” She looked at Nate. “Now, why’d you scream ‘hark’ earlier?”

The boy pointed to the store that they had stopped in front of, his finger leading Tara’s attention directly to--

She gasped, her eyes widening and a smile adorning her face. “It’s perfect!”

[frost-queen]

Humming bees (Male!Reader x Bridgertons)

Requested by: @los-angeles-71300  Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07,@melsunshine, @goldenmoonbeam, @freyathehuntress

Summary: After Hyacinth finds a portrait of a young man she does not know, she confides with her father and brother Anthony of his identity. Little does she know it is a portrait of you, the eldest Bridgerton passed away at the hands of a small bee. (Ps. Edmund is still alive here)

“One, two, three.” – Gregory called out. Hyacinth picking up the hem of her dress, making a run for it. – “four, five six.” – she heard him count while running out of the parlor. – “nine, ten, eleven.” – his words slowly fading out till she could no longer hear him count. Giggling beyond herself, she ran up the stairs. Half-way up she encounters her brother Colin, nearly running him over. – “Hyacinth!” – Colin called out, turning around to see her run up the last steps.

He held on tight to the railing. It was his life saving or he would’ve tumbled down the stairs. – “Hide and seek!” – she simply responded loudly. Colin shaking his head with a shake. Hyacinth ran down the hallway. Eloise shrieking loud when she opened her door, greeted by her hastened sister. Hyacinth came to a stop, mouth gawking in surprise. Wondering where she would hide from her brother.

Setting her mind to it, she ran to the right, opening a door. She quickly shut it. – “Hyacinth?” – Benedict said, pausing his actions. – “Can I hide here?” – she asked, looking around for a hiding place. – “What? Hide? What are you on about sister?” – Benedict set his paintbrush aside, watching her from behind his canvas. – “Yes hide brother what is there not to understand about.” – she answered, sitting on her knees, looking under his bed.

Humming curiously she got back up. She ran over to his closet, opening it firmly. – “Do you think I could fit in here?” – she questioned. Benedict rushed to her, coming to stand between her and the closet, shutting it. – “No!” – he called out. – “No?” – Hyacinth repeated innocently. – “No I can’t fit in there or no I can’t hide there?” – she proposed unsure of his intentions of his words. Benedict spread his arms. – “No as in no, you cannot hide here or anywhere in my room for the matter!” – he told her off.

Hyacinth pouted her lips pitiful. – “Why not?” – she begged to know. – “I am painting sister.” – he sighed out, gesturing at the canvas presented in the center of his room. Hyacinth barely gave the canvas her attention. – “I won’t disturb you. I promise.” – she said wobbling on her feet, hands behind her back. Benedict pinched his nose bridge. – “Hyacinth no. I can’t have you hiding in here and Gregory storming in to find you.” – he explained to her.

She crossed her arms bothered. – “Where else am I supposed to hide? Gregory can come look for me any second now.” – she cried out. Benedict pulled his shoulders up, turning her around towards the door. – “Not my problem.” – he shoved her towards the door, ushering her out of the way. He shut the door before her. Hyacinth reacting by sticking her tongue out.

Hearing Gregory downstairs, she panicked. Her time was coming to an end if she ever wished to hide. Panicking, she ran further down the hallway before Gregory would come up the stairs and see her. Huffing and puffing loud, her mind could barely think rational. A thousand terrible hiding idea’s popping in her mind. All those that would easily give her away. Groaning out of breath, she did not want to give Gregory the satisfactory of finding her in the first two minutes of the game.

She wanted to do better. Turning a corner, she came in a corridor she rarely visited. One could say almost foreign to her. Quirking her eyebrow up, she moved swiftly through it, looking in wonder around. Letting her finger trail the wallpaper. It seemed older then those downstairs. As if it hadn’t been taken care of in years. There were another set of stairs at the end of the corridor as she went up. Her curiosity taking a hold of her. Completely forgetting about the game she went up.

It went darker, the further up she went. No windows cast upon the stairs to light up her way. She came to a stop before a wooden door. The handle was old and heavy. With some effort, the door opened with a shrieking sound. She so hoped no one had heard that. She blinked rapidly to adjust to the dim lighted room she found herself in. Only the light from a small window above granting the room some light. She carefully pushed the door closer to the lock, yet not quite in it.

Venturing further into the room, she peered around trying to get glimpses of what was stored here. She gasped running over to a wooden crib. It started rocking creakingly under her grip. Lifting her fingers up, she rubbed them together feeling the dust on them. It had been a while since the crib was used. She measured the size between her two fingers, trying to visualize how small she would’ve been to fit in. That seemed like an eternity ago when she could fit in that crib.

Giggling loud she imagined what it would look like if she laid in it now. Her legs and arms sticking out. It was just too funny to think about. She moved around the crib further down the room. She lowered herself, hands pressed onto a table, watching a dusted vase. It was see-through, yet not. Being so close to the dust, made her cough loud. Straightening her posture she kept coughing. Slowly turning around, the back of her hand against her mouth.

She stopped coughing, hand lowering as her gaze fell upon a hidden portrait it appeared. Hyacinth went over to it. The closer she got, the more she furrowed her brows. Perhaps it was a portrait of her father in his early days? She took a hold of the frame, moving something in front of it forwards so the portrait wouldn’t be damaged when she pulled it up. Slowly the portrait got pulled up, her eyes widening in wonder. She took the portrait with both hands, moving it closer towards the light falling into the room.

She smiled as the person looked so much like her father. Yet if she squeezed her eyes a bit shut, she could faintly see features of Anthony. This was clearly not her father. Yet he resembled him much. Who could this young man be and why is his portrait hidden away? Hyacinth wanted to know more, taking the portrait with her. She went back to the door, going through it. Down the steps back into the corridor. When passing her siblings rooms she got spotted. Gregory pointing firmly at her from across the way. – “Found you!” – he called out loud.

Hyacinth spoke back, coming nearer. – “Yes you found me, good work of you brother.” – she walked past him. Gregory crossed his arms bothered. – “You are no fun like this! Did you even hide?” – he called out to her. – “I did then I chose to come out of hiding.” – she shouted making her way down the stairs. Gregory stomped with his foot on the ground, annoyed at his little sister. Why couldn’t she simply play the game rightly. Close to crying, his lip trembled as he rushed to his room.

She went down the stairs, straight on to the study of her father. Edmund and Anthony lifted their heads up when she barged in. – “Hyacinth?” – Edmund spoke. – “Sister?” – Anthony said at the same time. Hyacinth struggled a bit to keep the portrait up. Her father jumping up from his chair to assist her. He ran around the desk, holding the portrait up before it could hit the ground.

“Whatever for are you carrying this?” – he chuckled, turning the portrait slowly around to see what she was carrying. – “I…” – his smile dropped in an instant. Sorrow reflecting upon his features. – “What is it father?” – Anthony asked coming nearer. – “Who is he?” – Hyacinth asked curiously. Her father seemed to have turned to stone. Not responding one bit. Anthony came to his side, eyes widening at the portrait of you. – “Where did you find this!” – he called out, snatching the portrait from his father.

The tone in Anthony’s voice terrified her for a moment. Thinking she had done something wrong. – “The… the attic… I…I…” – she looked at her father seeing the tears swell up in his eyes. She dropped to her knees, begging for forgiveness. – “I was playing hide and seek with Gregory; I did not mean to find it. Father forgive me.” – she cried out.

Edmund blinked himself awake, rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He softened a smile up for her. – “It is alright my child.” – he spoke, pulling her back on her feet. Hyacinth sniffed loud with pouty lips. Anthony set the portrait down on the desk, brushing any dust off with care.

A faint smile upon his lips. Edmund motioned for her to follow him. He went to sit down, pulling Hyacinth on his lap. – “That… that is a portrait of your brother Y/n.” – he told her, pointing at it. – “Brother?” – Hyacinth repeated confused. – “Is… is he away?” – she wondered since she’s never met him. – “No…” – Edmund replied with sadness in his voice.

“He’s gone.” – Anthony answered letting his finger brush over your uniform on the portrait as it removing any folds from it in person. – “What do you mean he’s gone?” – she wanted to know. Edmund took a deep breath. – “Hyacinth…” – he said to her making her slowly realize. – “Oh…” – she quietly answered. A moment of silence fell upon them till she spoke. – “How… how did it happen? How come I don’t remember him?” – she asked curiously.

Edmund smiled faintly. – “You were still in your mother’s womb. Slowly growing.” – he tickled her briefly making her smile. – “Your brother Y/n, Anthony and I had gone hunting.” – he started his story. Anthony turning around to lean against the desk. Anthony immediately pulled back to the moment. It was a nice warm summer’s day. There were up and about from early starters.

Long awake before anyone else was. Anthony felt beyond honored to go hunting with his father and older brother. He so very much looked up to you. Aspired to be just as gentile and determined as you. You could do no wrong in his eyes. He’d nearly hit a deer, yet the hunt was unsuccessful. Upon the walk home, you were there to give him the word of advise he needed.

“Say brother, no need to be pitiful.” – you spoke, moving an arm around him. Father just up ahead. Anthony took a deep breath. – “I almost had it. If my hand just didn’t tremble that much.” – he cursed at his own hand, looking down at it. You clasped your hand around his, moving it out of his sight. – “Your hand will steady, do not worry about that my brother.” – you told him. Anthony sighed. – “It is just…” – he responded coming to a brief stop. His shoulder slouched forwards, making you notice it quite quick.

You smiled, needing no more words to understand. Taking a deep breath, you set your hands on his shoulders. – “You did alright brother. There is no need to pity yourself with doubts. Believe it or not, I was much worse on my first hunt.” – you said with a smile. – “I don’t believe you.” – Anthony answered. – “Yet it is true.” – you insisted on. – “I had the unfortunate matter of nearly shooting my own hand off.” – you showed him your hand, laughing loud. Anthony wouldn’t have it, shaking his head.

“No, a skilled shooter as you, I do not believe you. You are taunting me brother.” – he spoke, pulling your hand down. You laughed even more. – “It is true.” – you showed him your hand, pointing at a little scar by your wrist. – “I’ve got the scar to tell the tale.” – Anthony’s eyes widened. How was it he’d never noticed that scar. Yes it was small and faint, yet it was there. You stopped smiling, hearing your father whistle loud between his teeth.

“Boys keep up or your mother will scold me!” – he called out from further up the path. The both of you ran to catch up with him. Both joining him at once side. Edmund patted you on the back with a smile. Riffle in hand, you took a satisfying breath upon seeing the manor once more. How good it felt to be home. Edmund and Anthony were laughing as you were a step behind them. – “Oh, she would adore those!” – Edmund pointed out, looking at the flowers.

He rushed over to them, Anthony following him on foot. Edmund took off his satchel and placed his riffle down. Coming to kneel before the flower patches. Hands deep, he ruffled through the flowers. The soft humming of bees never catching his attention. He plucked a few Hyacinths when Anthony came kneeling close to him. Admiring another set of flowers. – “Are you going to woe mother with some flowers?” – you laughed teasingly coming to stand behind your father and brother.

“Yes.” – Edmund huffed out, plucking another Hyacinth. He smelled it briefly. – “They are quite lovely are they not?” – he said out loud. A bee buzzing near him. – “Yes, indeed they are father.” – Anthony responded, looking over at his father. – “Daphne will be jealous if we return with nothing for her.” – he added, plucking a few flowers. Edmund moved his head back, noticing the bee in his vision. Furrowing his brows with annoyance he whiffed it away with the back of his hand. – “This bloody…” – he said getting up and backing away.

You came nearer wanting to aid your father. Edmund ducked away from the bee as he had kept waving his hand around to shoo it off. – “Father do not anger…” – you warned him, words suddenly cut off by a sting of pain. – “Au.” – you softly said, having felt the stinger in your neck. Anthony chuckled, looking behind him. – “Y/n.” – he said. You moved your back towards him and your father, walking closer to the estate. – “The darn thing stung me.” – you pointed out, touching your neck briefly. – “Apologies Y/n. I didn’t mean to anger the creature.” – Edmund said with half a smile.

Anthony was still plucking flowers, furrowing his brows when he heard you grasp weirdly for air. – “Y/n?” – he said. You felt your neck swell up, face turning pale. Turning around your lips were almost sealed. Looking as pale as a dove as you stumbled a bit forwards. You revealed a bit of your red neck to your brother and father. You stretched your hand out, wheezing loudly. – “What is it?” – Anthony questioned, getting up. You stumbled into your father’s arms, sending him down with you.

Grasping for air, blood veins almost popping out on your head. – “What? What?” – Anthony called out coming over. You sputtered loud, moving your fingers over the sting wound. – “Someone help us!” – Edmund shouted loudly. – “Help us!” – the panic alarming in his voice as he held you. You lost your balance falling onto your back in the grass. Edmund looked frantically down, pulling you onto his lap. Mouth open you were grasping for air. Choking on dry air. – “Help us! Someone help!” – Anthony raged out in panic.

Your head shock back, grabbing your hand desperately at Anthony’s arm. Needing your brother’s comfort. The scaredness in your eyes broke Anthony’s heart as you kept desperately grabbing for him. It took him a few try’s to take your hand in his. – “Y/n, brother!” – he called out worriedly. – “Y/n… Y/n you must breath.” – Edmund called out, holding you. – “I…I…can’t…” – you answered hoarsely, feeling how much closer to death you were. Anthony was panicking, freaking out as he couldn’t think properly.

He held your hand tight, watching you with horror. Your movements slowed down as you turned to look at him, choking on the lack of air. – “Brother.” – you hoarsely said in deep panic. Wanting Anthony to take away the pain. To tell you all will be alright as you felt your end draw nearer.  Anthony stared back at you with wide eyes in fear. Slowly you laid your head back, reaching up to touch your father’s cheek.

Your fingers barely touched his skin as your hand lowered slowly once more. – “No-no-no-no.” – Edmund whispered out seeing how the light in your eyes was fading out. – “No-no-no-no-n-n-no don’t do this.” – he told you, shaking his head. Your hand plopped to the side, eyes falling shut as your head felt weightless. – “No Y/n!” – Edmund cried out. – “Do not leave us!” – he shouted with a crack in his voice. Anthony’s eyes were wide with fear.

Slowly it was sinking in that he had lost his brother. He looked down at your lifeless hand in his. Seeing how his touch gave your hand no response. Edmund moved your head a bit up, letting his chin rest against your forehead. Mouth open as no cries came out. Silent as they were cramped in his throat. Then a loud sob emerged from deep within followed by a cry of agony.

Anthony’s head trembled, moving your hand towards his chest. Cherishing it near his heart. Edmund was crying loudly, rocking you gently in his embrace. – “My son…my boy.” – he cried out, releasing a cry so raw it scraped his throat. The sounds drew in some curious watchers. Tears rolled down Anthony’s cheek, seeing his brother, the one he looked up to lay still in his father’s embrace.

Edmund looked over his shoulder, sniffing loudly. – “They cannot see him… not like this.” – he told Anthony, seeing Violet among them. – “Anthony!” – he called out for his attention. Anthony looked sharply his direction, trembling to the bone. – “Go!” – he ordered. Anthony nodded shakily, laying your hand near your body. He hesitantly got up, barely able to keep up straight. He stumbled over to his mother telling her the children should head inside.

Anthony sniffed loud, wiping a tear off his cheek. – “If I had not decided to pick flowers for your mother.” – Edmund spoke feeling a lump in his throat. – “If I had not angered the bee, your brother might still be here.” – he continued, looking at Hyacinth who had tears in her eyes as well. Anthony gripped on tight to the desk.

Remembering what that day brought upon him. With the loss of you, it meant he was the next heir in line. Making it his sworn duty to fulfill your tasks as the eldest brother now. Making sure the family was well taken care off with father. – “I wish I knew him.” – Hyacinth spoke. Edmund smiled faintly. – “You would’ve loved him… he would’ve loved you…” – he answered pinching her cheek.

Anthony moved his hand to his heart, looking up to the ceiling with a saddened smile. Closing his eyes gently to picture you in front of him. Allow himself to feel what it felt like to have those glorious days with you as second. If only he could’ve held on to you longer. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his head, turning to look at your portrait. – “If only you could taunt me one more time brother.” – he whispered touching your portrait.

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[bethanydelleman]

So I asked a while ago about which of our main men would change the most/least of their novels if they went back to the start (and I really loved the answers)…

But how do you think it would work vice versa? If our leading ladies went back to the start who do you think would change the most of their respective novels?

I feel like Marianne and Emma would probably change the most… but most of them would change things quite a bit I think.

Except maybe Fanny not out of lack of want to change things but because she has so much difficulty speaking up. I’ve got to admit I’m swaying back and forth on Lady Susan and Anne though. Bc Lady Susan is just arrogant enough to think that if she knows when/how things are going to go wrong then she can prevent them even when it’s something out of her control or that she doesn’t know the actual cause of. And Anne is quite a lot like Fanny in that she has trouble speaking up and also bc up until Lyme Wentworth is still very angry with her and I’m not sure there’s anything that she could do to mitigate that before then…

Thoughts? 💜

This question is in reference to this question.

I think the person who would change the most is Elizabeth Bennet, she's the only one who has someone she absolutely needs to save. (And Jane Bennet if we are counting her as a heroine.) Fortunately, I think rescuing Lydia would be in their power. Elizabeth would actually flirt with Darcy and she could drop hints about Jane loving Bingley. I think they could prevent Bingley from leaving and through that, prevent Lydia's trip to Brighton (ie take her somewhere else exciting with their wealth, as they take over the care of Kitty in canon). Also, knowing his true nature, they'd likely start some sort of whisper campaign against Wickham.

If only Elinor time travels, she would hopefully be able to inform Colonel Brandon about Willoughby earlier and stop W's romance with Marianne, but I don't think she could stop W&M on her own because she doesn't have any evidence of Willoughby's wrongdoing. She'd at least be prepared for the Lucy reveal and she knows it will turn out okay. I think she'd be intelligent enough to just not touch that and let nature take it's course.

Marianne would go for Colonel Brandon and snub Willoughby, it'd be delightful!. Poor Willoughby would have an ego crisis losing to an "old" man.

Anne Elliot doesn't have trouble speaking up, in my opinion, she just knows it's useless. She's been living with her father and Elizabeth for long enough to know that they won't listen to her. However, she would know the future which would be comforting at least and maybe she could prevent the Lyme fall. I think Wentworth would still wake up to his true feelings even without the fall and Anne is selfless enough to risk it.

Catherine Morland would likely avoid Isabella and her best to keep James from entering into his engagement. She would eagerly look forward to each time she knows that Henry Tilney is coming and would not even accuse General Tilney of being a murderer, not even once!

Fanny Price is actually kind of cruel, because the future would horrify her but I don't think she could do anything to prevent it. Edmund is ineffective, Maria wouldn't listen, and I don't think Fanny would dare approach Sir Thomas. So she'd just be EVEN MORE of a Cassandra and in acute pain the whole time. The fact that she ends up with Edmund would only be a minor consolation, given her personality.

Lady Susan would try again with her better knowledge, she might even succeed 😬 the horror!

Lastly, Emma. She's a tricky one because I don't know what she would do. She knows Elton sucks, she knows Jane and Frank are engaged, she's ashamed of her behaviour... Does she encourage Harriet to accept the first proposal or do the same thing as last time so she can enjoy a year with a friend? I think she would refrain from encouraging Harriet about Elton, and therefore avoid that heartbreak. Could she wiggle out of Elton's proposal? I don't know. It's going to happen eventually. She may discover that without her flirting with Frank, Knightley doesn't discover his feelings, so she's got to stick as close as possible to her original actions to prevent disaster! However, she would avoid the Box Hill debacle and refrain from bringing up Mr. Dixon with Frank.

[viking-raider]

SALT IN OUR WOUNDS - CHAPTER V

Summary-> After being found out by the Patrol, you try to act the part, to lower the suspension on Gus's presence.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 3.3k

Chapters-> I II III IV

Warnings-> PG-13: AU, Language, Deception, References to WWII, Use of the word Nazi.

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction, pulled from my imagination.

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

With the officers gone, Gus helped you to your feet, gently cradling your arm in his hands to look at the steadily bruising print on your bicep. His brows creased, as anger at the officer's roughness with you filled him again and guilt for getting you into this mess consumed him. Laying a hand on his chest, you offered him a soft, reassuring smile, nodding your head slightly.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, tracing the edge of the bruise with his thumb.

"It's not your fault, Gus." You cooed, brows pinching slightly. "It's not like you walked up here and asked us to take you in, We-" You looked at Edmund, who nodded at him. "took you in because we knew it was the right thing to do."

"So, he's not a worker from another village?" Your father's skeptical tone asked, as he regarded the three of you from his chair.

Edmund sighed heavily, rubbing the side of his face. "No, Pops. He's not." He answered, having not liked lying to your father to start with, despite it being needed at the time. Now he was going to have to ask something just as difficult. "She found Gus injured on the beach the other day, and we brought him in, so Dr. Tremblay could treat his wound. I know we told you he was working for me." He explained, moving across to sit beside him. "Now, however, the Patrol, and Trottier, think that Gus is her fiancé. We need to keep that story going. At least, until he's well again and, either they leave the area, or Gus can get back to where he needs to be."

"Can you do that, Papa?" You asked, frowning down at him, concerned for his well-being in the matter, knowing it was a lot asking your father to make merry with a random man who was pretending to be your future husband.

"Well, I have no choice in the matter, do I?" Mael answered, rubbing his shaky hands over his knees. "The mission has already been set up for me by the three of you. I'm just here as support."

"I'll make it as short a mission as possible." Gus replied, giving him a serious, but respectful, expression. "One Major, to another." He added, with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.

"I'll hold you to it." Mael stated, giving him a hard look.

"I guess there's no reason to finish the project downstairs." Edmund commented, sitting at the kitchen table with you and Gus, hands cupped around a fresh mug of coffee.

"Oh, I don't know." You chimed in, setting your tea down. "I really could use some shelves down there." You smirked, giving him a teasing expression.

Edmund gave you a squinty eyed look. "Use some shelves." He parroted, tapping the rim of his cup with his index finger. "Down-stairs."

"Mmhm." You nodded, brows going up, and giggling as Edmund's eyes flickered to Gus. "What are you looking at him for?"

"Wondering if he can get his fiancé under control." Edmund quipped, finally raising the coffee to his mouth.

"Well, I always heard, 'happy wife, happy life'." Gus answered, shifting in his seat, and glancing over at you. "So, if more shelves make her happy." He shrugged his shoulders, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Just because you give her everything she wants, doesn't mean she'll be happy." Edmund replied, an almost sour edge in his voice.

"Are you trying to compare me to Willamena?" You asked, cocking an offended brow at him.

Edmund finished off his coffee and pushed his chair back. "No." He said curtly, standing and striding over to the door, jerking his coat off the hook on the wall beside it. "I'll be back later." He huffed, going out.

"Is he all right?" Gus asked, look to you.

"Edmund will be fine." You sighed, shaking your head. "He and Willa, his wife, haven't been happy together in a very long time. So, it's a sore subject for him." You explained, getting up to take your and Edmund's cups to the sink, but glanced up at the clock. "I have to go down to the shop. We don't have anything for dinner in the refrigerator and I have to see when Remi wants me to work another shift."

"Is it far?" He inquired, coming up behind you and setting his own mug in the sink.

"No." You shook your head, biting your lip as you felt his intense warmth against your back. "Maybe a two minute walk."

"Why don't I go with you?" Gus suggested, cocking his head and smiling at you.

"Do you think you can manage with your wound?" You asked, a bit apprehensive. "I don't want you to over-extend yourself."

Gus's smile brightened and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "I'll be fine, I promise." He assured you, his thumb rubbing your wrist. "I could use the fresh air and sunshine. Plus, it'll help deter any of the Patrol, instead of making them more paranoid, if I stay inside a hundred percent of the time."

"You're right." You nodded, biting your lip, having not thought of what the Patrol would think of Gus staying hidden. "I'll get my shoes and something to wrap up in." You told him, before giving his hand a gentle pressure back.

"I'll wait for you here."

He let go of your hand and moved out of the way. Your cheeks felt warm as you hurried upstairs to grab your cardigan off the back of a chair in your room, pausing to fix your hair in the mirrored back of your vanity and spritz a bit of Soir de Paris. But you stopped, feeling silly.

"Acting like this is a date." You sighed, flustered, plopping down on your chair. fishing your shoes out from under the vanity and securing the buckles. "All right, I'm ready to go." You declared, coming back downstairs, finding Gus patiently waiting for you by the door.

"As am I." He answered, tipping his head politely, while pulling open the door.

"You mind her, Major." Mael called out to Gus, leaning forward in his chair to catch his eye.

"I would think of nothing less." Gus assured him, meeting your father's eye confidently. "I am her fiancé, after all." He quipped, with a wink, then followed you out. "Do we hold hands?" He asked, looking at you, but felt his heart kick at your startled reaction. "I'm only teasing you." He said softly, biting his lip.

"I know." You squeaked, flustered, before catching sight of your sister-in-law coming out of her home across the way. "Oh, that's Willa." You mumbled to Gus, before lifting your arm and waving to her.

"Morning, Willa!" You greeted her, grinning pleasantly.

Willa stared over at you and Gus, pulling a Rose-Tip out of her engraved case and her sky-blue enamel guilloche, sterling silver lighter from the front pocket of her knitted jumper. She didn't return your pleasant acknowledgement, instead lit her cigarette in a smooth and indifferent motion, eyes never moving off the two of you. Gus frowned, cocking a brow at her as he studied her standoffish demeanor; puzzled. She was just anti-social or if she was being rude.

"What’s her issue?" He asked you, his own eyes never leaving Willa.

"She's fine." You answered, sighing at your sister-in-law, your heart yearning to have a connection with her.

You had been excited upon hearing about Edmund courting someone; finally having another woman in the house to talk to, to share in the chores and just confide things to. Things you couldn't do with your father and brother.

However, from the moment you met, Willamena Badeaux had been distant from you.

She wasn't cold, per se, but she hadn't opened up with you either. Willa had been the first female in your close and personal circle, outside of the couple of elderly church ladies that would come over during the day. They would cook meals, clean the house, wash the laundry and just make sure you, Edmund and your father were well taken care of. After your mother had run off with her lover, the assistant shop clerk of the grocery store she frequented on her shopping trips. Which several of you figured were excuses to go and meet up with him; so she could cheat on your poor father.

But, the church women never went out of their way to be motherly or be a true confidant for you. Their love and friendship was out of pity. You were the little girl of a harlot and a mentally broken man, who could barely manage a job, dropping that weight onto his teenage son. So, when Willa came into the picture, you thought you would have a sister, not only to do sisterly things with, but to also learn how to be a woman. That's obviously not how it turned out.

She only came over to the house, if Edmund urged her to. She only held a conversation with you, if you were the one to start it and spurred it to keep going, otherwise she only spoke to Edmund or sat quietly. It only got worse, when the two of them married and moved into the cottage across the street from you and your father. Willa rarely came over for family dinners, meals you were still solely cooking for the four of you. Only occasionally getting a home cooked meal from her, after she and Edmund quarreled over her not performing her wifely duties and dropping the chores of two houses on you. As if you were their maid.

Part of you was sure, Willa detached from you, because she had been under the assumption Edmund only married her to be a mother figure to you. Not because he had been, once upon a time, madly in love with her.

"Do you need anything from the shop, Willa?" You asked, pulling yourself from sinking deeper into that emotional hole. "Gus and I are popping down there now." You explained, raising a hand and motioning to him, casually.

She stared at you for a long minute, before holding up her case, the sunlight glinting off the engraved bronze and mother of pearl. Nodding that you got the hint, you turned and started towards the center of town, with Gus following beside you. The sun was warm, heating the both of you, as well as the modest homes and buildings that lined the street, all converging on the limestone fountain round-a-bout in the middle of Saint-Thurney, spraying an arch of water from the top; a rainbow sparkling in the mist.

"This is really quite a quaint town." Gus commented, glancing about, following you across the sleepy street.

"It is." You replied, smiling up at him, proud of your little adoptive home. "It's almost like we're somewhere else entirely, instead of such a bustling and chaotic world." You told him, always feeling a sense of peace while in Saint-Thurney, even with a World War being waged around you and the town being occupied.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." You added softly, stopping beside Remi's General Store. "This is the place!" You declared, waving your hand at the store's front windows, plastered with advertisements for goods he sold inside, several crate displays lined the bottom of one window. "You'll like Remi, he's super sweet." You smiled, reaching out for the door handle, only to have Gus beat you to it.

"Allow me." He purred, pulling it open and standing aside, for you to go in first. "Only proper for your fiancé to open it for you."

You gulped, biting the inside of your lip. "Right." You nodded, clearing your throat. "You're right."

Composing yourself, you went inside, finding Remi at the only register with one of the residents, Mrs. Moulin, the Mayor's wife. They looked up at you and smiled, before their expressions twisted into apprehensive confusion, spotting Gus coming in behind you.

"Morning, Remi. Mrs. Moulin." You greeted them cheerily, while trying to keep casual, like there was nothing out of the ordinary for Gus to be there with you.

"Good morning." Mrs. Moulin addressed you, her eyes still on Gus, as if she expected him to lash out at everyone.

"Who is this?" Remi asked, ignoring his manners, unlike her.

"This is Gus." You grinned brightly, looking back at him and your breath catching in your throat at the feeling of him taking your hand. "He's my fiancé." You declared, heart racing in your chest.

Both Remi and Mrs. Moulin looked floored at the announcement, particularly Remi, who you had worked for for several years and knew you'd never mentioned having a male suitor. Let alone a fiancé! So, selling Remi on Gus being your betrothed was going to be one of the other hurdles you faced, on top of the Patrol and Director General.

"When did this happen?" Remi snapped, dumbfounded and looking almost outraged. "You never mentioned anything!"

Gus rested his free hand on the small of your back, his eyes taking the other man in, sizing him up. "Keeping me your own little secret, Peanut?" He asked, a sparkle coming into his eyes as he looked at you, bashfully.

A zing shot through you, hearing him call by your nickname, your skin breaking out in goosebumps. "I have been." You smirked, bashfully turning your face into his bicep.

"How did the two of you meet?" Remi asked, continuing his interrogation.

"We knew each other from before she moved here." Gus answered, surprising you on how casually he came up with the fabricated detail. "I reached out to her just after I enlisted, and well, I proposed to her a year ago." He stated, smiling at you and caressing your back with his thumb. "Thankfully, she said, yes."

"Would you have gotten yourself shot sooner, if I said no?" You teased him back, getting lost in the moment.

Gus grinned at you, amused, but he felt something deeper. "Definitely." He nodded slowly, his blue eyes soft.

Mrs. Moulin gasped, crossing herself. "You were shot?"

"Yes, madam. I was." Gus replied, tipping his head politely to her. "That's the reason I'm here, and not back in Belgium; fighting." He stated, lightly touching his wound. "This lovely gem is taking care of me." He cooed, touching his thumb to your chin with a wink, making your knees a little weak.

"I thank you, sir." Mrs. Moulin said, straighten her petite body, then glanced around the group. "Fighting those damn Nazis."

Your mouth fell open, surprised to hear the ordinarily prim and proper lady, curse. "Mrs. Moulin." You mumbled, in a state of shock.

"Well, it's true!" She huffed at you, gathering up her grocery bags. "I'm sick of them being in my town, marching about, like they own it."

"I'd be careful with what you say, Mrs. Moulin." Remi warned, as she moved for the door. "You never know who you can trust." He said, eyeing Gus.

"Luckily, everyone here is trustworthy." You chimed, with confused surprise. "Have a good day, Mrs. Moulin. Say hello to the Mayor for me."

"Oh, I will, my dear." She answered, reaching out to rest her hand on your arm, looking between you and Gus. "You make a beautiful couple. You must let my brother, Zane, marry you when the time comes." She said, with a sweet smile.

Your cheeks blazed at her words. "We'll put him at the top of consideration." You promised her, offering her your own soft smile.

"Good." She nodded, patting your arm and gave Gus a cheeky wink, before scuttling out the door.

"Do I have a shift this week, Rem?" You asked, turning your attention back to your boss, who hadn't taken his judging eyes off of you.

"I haven't gone over the schedule yet this week." He answered, gruffly. "So, I'll have to let you know."

"All right." You nodded, feeling the cold coming off of him in waves. "Well, I have a bit of shopping to do for the house." You said, trying to shrug it off as Remi's reluctance to trust with the uncertainty of war, having lost both his brothers.

Gus stepped away from you, to grab a small hand basket from the stack by the door, holding it for you as you puttered around the modest aisles and freezers, grabbing a few items and placing them in the basket.

"Everything is so bare." He commented, watching you grab a box of oatmeal, only one of four on the scarce shelf.

"We're being rationed." You replied, sighing as you tucked a box of dry pasta in with the rest of your groceries. "Remi only gets a shipment of things once a week to stock the shelves. If you want something and don't get here early enough for it..." You trailed off, shrugging your shoulders dismissively.

“Suppose, being enlisted for so long, I’ve been a bit blind to the tribulations of civilians.” Gus frowned, his brow creasing heavily. “Not that I didn’t know about rationing. I just didn’t…” He shook his head, a hardness coming into his blue eyes. “Damned Nazis.” He growled, rolling his jaw.

You rested your hand on his elbow, looking up at him with a soft expression. “It is what it is, Gus.” You told him, quietly. “But it will change. We’ll beat them and everything will go back to how it should.”

“As it should.” He echoed, meeting your eye for a long moment.

What will happen after the War ends? No matter who wins. I’ll have to go back to the Army. I’ll have to leave her. Could I come back after my service? Would you want me to come back? Could I…

He shook his head hard, trying to shove the thoughts away. It was delusional to think such things, he was getting too involved and attached. He needed to keep a barrier between the two of you, to protect you against the danger he presented as an officer of the British Army.

“Well, what’s for dinner?” He asked, forcing that wall back up and peeking into the basket he carried for you.

“Um..” You cocked a brow at the basket’s contents taking stock of it and what you knew was at home. “I could make a simple stew. Wouldn’t be too much, but it would be something in our bellies.”

“I have faith in your cooking abilities.” Gus smiled, the sparkle coming back into his eyes.

“Kind of you.” You giggled shyly. “I think that's about all we need.” You said, biting your lip and glancing about the modest shop. “We can get rung up.” You smiled, heading towards Remi at the register. “How’s your Mum, Rem?” You asked, as he slowly added up everything in your basket.

Remi’s mother had suffered great shock at the loss of her two older sons, Duncan and Andre, who had enlisted and been shipped off to the thick of the war. Duncan had died in the Battle of Crete, taking shrapnel that nicked a serious artery and bled to death before anyone could do anything for him. The most tragic though, was Andre. His squad was ambushed by a German one and overtaken. It had been a hard time for many in the town, when they received the telegraph informing them of Andre officially being MIA. Every time Remi’s mother was seen, she was balling her eyes out and lamenting, prophesying that he too would die as her oldest did.

Two months later though, another telegraph arrived informing them that Andre had been found alive, but being held in a German Prisoner of War camp. His mother was relieved to hear he was alive, however she was still devastated to hear of his situation. Andre survived for a while in the camp. Two whole years, to be exact. But the fated telegraph ultimately arrived, one blustery day, and practically the entire town heard her screaming.

So, in that sense, you and Remi had developed a friendship based on an understanding of parents with mental health issues, inflicted by wars in some way.

“She’s doing all right.” Remi answered, not looking up from his task.

You blinked at him, ordinarily he would elaborate on how his mother was doing when you asked, even if nothing had changed about her. But you realized quickly where his reluctance came from, feeling Gus shift beside you.

Men. You rolled your eyes.

“Can I have Willa’s usual as well?” You asked, ignoring the thick air between Gus and Remi.

“Sure.” Remi nodded, half turning on his heels to grab the red and white, Rose Tip box and tucked it into the bag. “I’ll put this on your tab.” He said, setting it in your reach.

“Thanks.” You smiled uneasily at him, as Gus scooped the bag up and tucked it carefully against his good side. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” You told him, before leaving the shop and tracing your steps back home.

“What’s wrong?” Gus inquired, glancing down at you.

“Nothing.” You informed him, licking your lips and shaking your head. “Guess he’s just having a rough day.” You brushed it off.

Gus moved out of the cellar and into the cramped guest room upstairs, nothing separating the two of you now, but the wall of your closet. The two of you agreed it was much more agreeable to have him there than the cellar in the event the Patrol and the Inspector returned. They know doubt would, their suspension of Gus was all too obvious. It would also be more comfortable for him in the guestroom, giving him a softer bed, the luxury of sunlight and fresh air from the window that overlooked the back garden. As well as the beach, beyond the garden wall.

But as Gus healed and regained his strength again, he knew he had to find a way back to his men, and the war. He had to find out what happened to his men, if they were still alive. How he was to do that, was another matter altogether.

The last thing he recalled of the group was infiltrating a Nazi Intelligence Camp to rescue one of their own, Geoffrey Appleyard. They had gotten into the camp and things had gone well. He and his second hand man, Anders Lassen, moved smoothly together before nodding at each other and Gus looked back to Henry Hayes, jerking his head for the younger man to follow him. They moved swiftly through the camp, taking Nazis out left and right and making the camp practically useless for any that tried to use it again; with Freddy Alvarez setting up a plethora of explosives as a finishing touch.

Gus was proud of his men. No one had been seriously injured, beyond a handful of scratches. It had been one of their best in and out missions in the two years the unofficial, rag-tag group had been put together. That alone should have given Gus a measure of paranoia.

Missions should never go so easily.

The shot rang out and everyone in the group tensed, the jolly celebration that filled them instantly vanished as they dropped their looted goods and scrambled for their weapons, pulling out guns and bows. Gus hated being caught by surprise, especially by damned Nazis. He gritted his teeth, returning fire, while trying to assess the situation. They were a mile and a half from shore, where their boat was waiting to take them back to the safety of Allied Lines. There was a sparse covering of forest between them and their extraction point, that could give them some shelter. As much as Gus March-Phillippss hated being surprised, he hated running. But hearing Anders call out that there were too many and ammo was running low, Gus gave the signal to retreat to the boat, taking up the rear to ensure none of his men lagged behind.

It was him that lagged behind.

He felt the hot burn of lead piercing his side, faltering only momentarily, his eyes focused on the back of Lassen’s head, breath from his lungs starting to wheeze in his throat and his vision spot. Gus’s memory skipped in and out from there, like a scratched record. Spotting the boat ahead of the group and urging them forward, the heat of blood soaking into his clothing and his knees feeling like jelly. He couldn’t recall if he made it to or onto the boat with the others, then somehow fell overboard, or something more happened.

There were dark bits lurking in his mind of freezing cold enveloping him, no doubt of him in the Channel.

“Your father’s very into following the movements of the War.” Gus said one morning, sipping a cup of coffee as the two of you finished breakfast.

“He is.” You nodded.

“Does he only follow the major events or…” He trailed off, meeting your eye.

“No, he follows whatever is reported on or gossiped about in newspapers and the radio.” You replied, sensing his intent and sudden interest in your father’s hobby. “Why?” You asked, cautiously.

“I need to know what happened to my men.” Gus told you, bluntly and honestly. “I have to know if they’re still alive, dead or in prisoner of war camps. Perhaps your father has some information that could be useful to me, on that front.”

“How?” You shook your head, confused.

“I was injured during a mission.” He divulged to you, in a low voice. “It wasn’t an official or authorized mission, but there might be a possibility of it being reported on.” He cast an eye over his shoulder to the sitting room, where your father lounged in his usual spot. “Do you think he’d discuss it with me?”

You snorted at him and lifted your tea cup to your lips. “Do I think so? It’s more a matter of getting him to quit, once you get him going.” You said, taking a deep gulp of the rich, brown liquid. “But, yes.” You nodded, assuring him. “I’m sure my father would likely share any information he has on the War with you. Just wait until later in the morning. He likes to nap after breakfast, and he’ll be more receptive and energetic about the subject.”

“Excellent.” Gus smiled, patting your arm. “Would you like to go on a walk with me, to pass the time?”

“I think that would be quite agreeable.” You cooed, finishing off your tea.