#like. someone gave a list of content warnings like what people did with revolutionary girl utena. i would have been fine

[elvesofnoldor]

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[inknopewetrust]

adieu, remember me. (1)

The Old Guard Booker x Female! Original Character

Summary: After a few years away, one member of the immortal team must return to protect their immortality and secrets as enemies begin to uncover their past.

Word Count: 1.6k 

Warnings: nothing yet!

Parts: ... | 2 | part 2 coming soon!

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about the work and it will def be more than 2 or 3 parts and longer than this one. Requests are CLOSED at the moment and I apologize in advance for any mis-wording or spelling in different languages because I don’t know french/italian but I feel in some cases it was necessary to use for character interactions. Published on 8/9/2020.

if you want to be tagged for the next part please let me know!

All original content is owned by me. Anything from the film/comic is property of the writers, studio, and director. Gif not by me.

Versailles evolves every so often but over 172 odd years, more visitors pack its halls and recall its history. Tourists from around the world flock to the once functional palace and the home of infamous, complicated monarchs. Passed the sweeping halls and the paintings of untouchable status, a special exhibit was placed at the end of the hall with cases full of crowned jewels of French royalty.

Tourists flashed photos of crowns and rings and pearls that adorned the exhibit cases. In the center of the room laid perhaps the most famous of jewels, as well as the crowns that found themselves on the heads of women who suffered terrible fates. The Hope Diamond sat in a case between crowns that once adorned it and worn by Marie Antoinette and Louis Philippe I’s controversial daughter, Vivienne, Duchess of Auvergne. On loan from its final resting place at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., the diamond once found itself imbedded in each of the crowns on momentous occasions.

Crown worn by Vivienne, Duchess of Auvergne and third daughter of King Louis Philippe, killed by French revolutionaries in February 1848. Crown was commissioned by the King for his daughter’s twenty-eighth birthday. Was worn on the night of her death on 24th of February, 1848.

Twenty-eight. 172 years later she still remember the party, the food, the smell of the candles that burned from the chandelier and the man who caught her heart. Pretentious was the only word that came to mind when she thought of the party and the woman. At the time she felt deception too but the world has a funny way of making villains look like heroes depending on the perspective.

Clara felt the surge of memories remind her of the life she knew before the one she was in now. She didn’t know how long she had stood in front of that particular case with that particular diamond and crown but by the time her feet began to ache she knew it had been long enough. Clara also wasn’t sure how long a small English girl had been standing next to her, also staring at the silver diamond encrusted crown and the plaque underneath it.

“You know, she’s kind of a rebel and I dig it. It reminds me of Princess Margaret in a way. She was Queen Elizabeth’s sister and she partied a lot too.”

“Excuse me?”

“Vivienne. She was a rebel in her own right and I admire her for it.” The woman turned, her face meeting the girl taking notes on a piece of paper. The girl couldn’t have been more than thirteen and certainly had a bold personality if she was talking to someone she didn’t know.

“The revolutionaries didn’t see it that way, so why would you?”

“She was independent. I think it was progressive and cool for her not to follow the rules of her family. Not to mention the glamour in her style. She had the best dresses and crowns since well, Marie Antoinette probably.”

“That’s a little naïve, no?” The woman raised her brow at the student but the girl simply shrugged. The young one looked at the older woman and analyzed her face and features as she spoke.

“She spent the people’s money like water and saw no problem with the poverty in the streets. Vivienne was oblivious to the world around her because she lived in a world of riches with everyone at her disposal.”

“Perhaps.” The girl paused before continuing. “There’s a tv show about her on... um-I don’t remember- HBO maybe and they say she took a commoner for a lover and he sold her secrets to the revolutionaries which led to her death. Her body disappeared after the broke into the castle and people think they threw her body in the Seine.”

“I would advise you to stop watching whatever movies are giving you that perspective on the issue because it’s not true.” Clara scoffed and turned away from the girl.

The girl listened but was too entranced by the figure in front of her eyes. Brown hair, medium length, waved. She looked nice to say the least. She had on pretty clothes and may have been an employee because she knew so much but the girl wasn’t sure. All the student was certain of was that the woman standing in front of her looked very much like the Duchess in the paintings that lined the modern wing.

“You look like her.” The girl told her and she put her pencil down holding the pad of paper at her side. Before she had a chance to answer the girl, a teacher called out to the students as a signal to leave and the girl picked up her bag.

“Have a nice day.”

The girl left with the class and the woman stayed in front of the case watching them leave the room before turning back to the crown that once adorned her own head. A soft rumble came from her pocket and she pulled out the burner phone with a number she didn’t recognize but an area code she did, Goussainville.

France, safe house #4

“Hello?”

“Clara.” The Italian on the other line sounded relieved that she simply picked up the phone. Clara’s face contorted into one of worry than one of happiness she had been called.

“Nicolo, s’il tu plaît dites-moi que tout va bien?” Clara moved over to a window, away from the crowds to answer the call she had been anticipating for the last day. She dreamt of a black girl and her throat being sliced open. Waking up gasping for breath that wasn’t her own and cautious of who it might be.

“No-no. Il y en a un nouveau ... mais ce n'est pas le problème. les gens essaient de nous trouver et Dieu sait quoi.” Nicky told her and Clara felt helpless, disappointed in herself that she wasn’t there to help them. Not only was there someone new who needed guidance but the others needed her too if they were going to protect their own skin.

“Andy went to get her. We are at the safe house in Goussainville and they should be here later today. If you can make it... we really need you, Clara.” Clara sighed and looked out the window that faced the vast gardens the palace was surrounded by. Serenity before the inevitable storm.

“He’d kill me if he knew I’m telling you this but Booker needs you. It’s getting worse since the last time he saw you and I am not sure what to do.”

“That was three weeks ago, Nicky.”

“I can’t explain it... it’s just gotten worse. I know he has to help himself but he’s always a bit brighter when you’re around.”

“I can be there later tonight. What time are they getting in?”

“7.”

“I can be there at 8. I’m in France so I’ll take a train as soon as I can.”

“We will be waiting.” Nicky told her and she hung up the phone. Clara looked back at that glimmering crown and what the young girl said about the Duchess. Naïvety at its finest.

At the safe house in Gousssainville, the three immortal men unpacked the bag they brought and washed up after the ambush in Afghanistan. Nicky stood alongside the small counter space prepping dinner when Booker came to fill a cup with wine.

“Who was on the phone?” Booker asked in a low grumble and Nicky set down the knife he was using to slice tomatoes.

“It was Clara. I called her and told her we needed her here. She dreamt of the girl too.”

“And?” Booker pushed further and downed his glass in an instant upon the news.

“She could catch a train to be here at 8.”

“How did she sound?”

“Worried.”

Booker nodded and filled his glass again before going to sit in front of the tv in a chair he had designated as his own many years ago. Nicky watched as he sat, drank more and tried to remove himself from his thoughts but was too lost to do so. He was observant and cared deeply for the others in his life but there was only so much he could do for a man as stubborn as Booker.

“Hai bisogno di aiuto?” Joe called out to Nicky from everyone’s shared bedroom before also joining the two in the common space. Nicky shook his head and glanced at Booker who wasn’t looking but certainly listening.

“I called Clara. She is on her way to us now. She knows we are in trouble.” Joe smiled at Nicky and gave him a quick peck. While they were all very close, Joe and Nicky had taken Clara under their wings and helped her acclimate to the world as an immortal, especially after they found her and the two french immortals clashed. 

“It’s been too long. I miss that woman.”

“We all do.” Nicky said before returning to his meal. Without much time having gone by, the door to the cemetery sounded and Andy walked through the door with a nervous woman behind them. The girl was young, no more than 25 and had blood stained on her forehead. One hand was clutching her arm but out of nervousness not injury. Her eyes looked at the three men. Two sat staring at her in chairs and the other by the refrigerator and the only sound that played was the cheering of fans from a football match that played on the widescreen. Andy looked over her shoulder and then back again, breaking the silence to introduce the newest member of The Old Guard.  

“Everyone, this is Nile.”

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