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quietasasanctuarymouse · 3 years

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Season 1 Episode 3 1/2 ~ Tuatha De Danaan

Helen Magnus sat on the edge of the desk in her office, her legs crossed demurely, the erratic flexing of her feet in their black patent pumps the only outward sign of the nervous energy coursing through her body. Hands grasping the lip of the desktop to either side of her, she leaned forward slightly, all attention focused on Will Zimmerman in the armchair opposite her.

“Are the current security protocols really enough? I mean, they know where we are, they’ve been inside, seen the layout of the facility, and, Magnus, they were pretty pissed.”

“It’s alright, Will. I have my contacts keeping an ear to the ground about any and all Cabal activity, especially in areas near any of the Sanctuaries. This encounter was instigated because of our possession of Danu and her sisters, nothing more. The Cabal have been in operation for centuries and the Sanctuary Network has been a large force for the last two. They have never crossed our path in such a way before, and I see no reason for them to again now, not since they got their ‘property’ back anyway.”

Will pulled his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose and fidgeting with the tines. “Are you saying you think this is over? That you believe the Cabal’s sole interest in us was reclaiming the Morrigan and now that they have them we’ll never hear from them again?”

Helen gave a cheeky grin, “Not hardly. I’m saying they’re smart, resourceful, focused, and patient. This isn’t over by a long shot, but whatever their endgame, our encounter with them two nights ago wasn’t part of it. They never intended to turn their hand to us in such a way at this time. It was a fluke because of the situation with the Morrigan. Now that it's happened, they’ll be planning their next moves even more carefully. Such intentions can be corroborated by the utter silence that has fallen since they left here with the sisters.” She smiled reassuringly. “This isn’t over, but we have time. They won’t be making any moves, not yet. Trust me, Will. When they do, we’ll know.”

“All that confidence and self-assuredness. Calming the anxieties and reassuring the troops. So attractive.”

Will gave a start at the unexpected sound of the unfamiliar voice, sitting forward in his chair he turned to the doorway to see who it belonged to.

Standing in the slanted early morning sunlight falling through the tall windows of Magnus’s study was a tall, lithe, curvaceous woman of about late twenty-something with milky pale flawless skin, striking red hair the vibrant color of blood that fell to mid-thigh in soft full cascading waves, and startling green eyes like vibrant emeralds lit from within as if the sun shone through the perfectly faceted gemstones. The smooth satin of her green dress, a darker shade of her dazzling eyes, that was something of a cross between Victorian era steampunk corseting and a bohemian sundress swirled gracefully about her alluring shape as she strode into the room toward Helen’s frozen form still perched on her desk. She was absolutely stunning. Her lilting voice like music as she spoke again in her undeniably Irish accent. “I do hope you don’t mind, I let myself in. I did so want to surprise you, and I see that I have succeeded.” She smiled warmly, a twinkle of mischief in her glittering eyes.

Will, mouth agape, turned his attention back to Magnus whose eyes were fixed on this strange woman in a mixture of stunned silence and surprised delight. He had only known her a short time, but nothing about her had in any way indicated to him that she was the type of woman who could be rendered speechless. Even the very unexpected appearance of John Druitt a couple of weeks ago had not stolen her voice. Far from it, and yet here she sat, staring unbelievingly at the mysterious woman standing in front of her.

The woman held out her hands and, as if by automatic reflex, Magnus grasped them delicately in her own and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. The gallant gesture seamlessly flowed into a friendly embrace, the woman placing a lingering kiss on Magnus’s cheek, her long elegant hands cupping Helen’s shoulder blades as she took in the length of her, uttering a whimsical sigh; the whole exchange one graceful fluid motion. “Bí fós i mo chroí. You’re as beautiful as ever, Helen, and I love what you’ve done with your hair,” she smiled as she gingerly stroked a lock of chocolate curl between thumb and forefinger, the back of the latter caressed Helen’s other cheek as the hand slowly brushed by.

The brief, yet intimate, physical contact seemed to break whatever had held Magnus spellbound and brought her back to the present. “Dear Lord,” she breathed, the utterance barely more than a whisper. “I haven’t seen you since….” She trailed off.

“Midsommer. ‘98,” the other woman supplied, her eyes still locked on the radiant blue of Helen’s.

“Yes, I saw you in the drawing room and had intentions of finding you at table, but then you just disappeared. I never saw you again after that.” Will caught the tiniest flicker of sadness behind the wonder in her eyes, so quickly covered he doubted the mystery woman had seen it at all- regardless of how intently their gazes were locked. Helen’s eyes searched the woman’s face, for what Will couldn’t even begin to guess. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl just pop in to see an old friend for no apparent reason?” her grin was cheshire through and through, and Helen’s raised eyebrow brought a melodious laugh. “I never could get anything past you, could I? Bíodh sin mar atá. It was the Morrigan.”

The shift in the tone of the conversation parted the embrace as Helen stepped back into the edge of her desk. “What?” The change of topic alleviating the privateness of the moment, Will cleared his throat. Helen’s eyes snapped to him, still sitting in the armchair. “Oh! I’m so sorry. Will, this is one of my oldest friends, Rowan Llewellyn. Rowan, this is my newest colleague, Dr. William Zimmerman. I do apologize for my poor manners, the surprise of seeing Rowan after so long has just left me a bit flabbergasted. Please, forgive me.”

Will stood, extending his hand to Rowan, “Nice to meet you,” he smiled. “No need for apologies, Magnus. I can understand being surprised to see someone out of the blue after a decade or so of no contact with them.”

Releasing the handshake, Rowan let out a hearty chuckle, “My dear boy, how long have you known our most lovely Helen Magnus?” At Will’s startled look she continued. “The ‘98 that I was referring to was 1898.” She beamed at Helen as Will’s head tennis court swiveled between the two women’s faces, his turn to be rendered speechless.

When Will found his voice, he turned his quizzical gaze on Magnus. “What, did you give her some of your blood, too? Was she also dying of some terrible disease?”

The left side of Magnus’ mouth quirked up into a small smile. “No, actually she was far older than I am now the first time I ever met her.” Will’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Rowan is a Daoine Sidhe. She’s immortal.”

Will turned his stunned gaze to Rowan who laughed lightly, “Well, in so much as long as nothing kills me.”

“Yes, Will, I can see that you have many, many questions. Come, let’s sit and we can talk.” The three of them moved to the seating area around the fireplace, Will taking the far armchair and the ladies settling onto the settee. Rowan crossed her ankles sliding her feet under the edge of the settee, her gaze traveling the graceful length of skin up Helen’s bare legs, the black pencil skirt stopping just shy of her demurely crossed knees, the hands clasped delicately in her lap, the swell of her breasts beneath the blue linen of her blouse, the neckline of which was low enough to catch a glimpse of rounded flesh, the arch and curve of her collar bone, the soft line of her neck adorned by only a few errant curls, her chestnut hair swept up and pinned to one side, her full lips, moving as she spoke to Will. “Before you launch into your, I’m sure, very long list of questions, I have one of my own that I’d like to ask.” Then, those piercing sapphire eyes turned upon her, dark lashes fluttering as their gazes met and she smiled. “You said the Morrigan brought you here?”

For a moment, Rowan said nothing, lost in the depths of Helen’s eyes locked with her own. She dropped her gaze to her own hands resting in her lap and took a steadying breath. Returning her gaze to Helen’s crystalline eyes, she nodded, “Two days ago, they used their powers, for the first time in centuries. I felt the call, and I came to investigate. When I saw that the place they had been was yours, well, I had to stay. To see you. I am so very sorry for the unexpected intrusion.” She smiled warmly at the woman seated next to her, “De réir na déithe go léir, I’ve missed you, Helen. Deeply, and I’d like to spend some time here with you if you don’t find objection. Reminisce old times and catch up on current ones. After all, when the Fates drop you on someone’s doorstep, who am I to turn and walk away?”

The grin that spread across Helen’s lips lit her whole face. She took Rowan’s hands in hers and gave a light squeeze, “Of course. You’re welcome for as long as you like. You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” She squeezed her hands again before letting them fall and straightening back into the arm of the settee. “Alright, William, I can see you’re full to bursting,” she extended her hand to him, offering the floor. “Please, by all means,” a playful smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

“Okay, well basics first, I guess. What exactly is a Daoine Sidhe? An abnormal, obviously, but….” he let the sentence trail, quite literally sitting on the edge of his seat, eagerly awaiting the answer.

“Well, yes,” Helen said, smiling at the obvious connection. “Daoine Sidhe are an ancient race of abnormal, Irish in origin, who have many names and varying forms throughout Gaelic folklore; Puca, Changeling, Banshee, Sluagh, Leprechaun- to name just a few that you’ve likely heard of.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Will sat straighter on the edge of his chair, “You mean to tell me leprechauns and banshees are real, and they’re abnormals?”

“What we are, Sir William,” Rowan interjected, voice full of pride and dignity, “are the Fair Folk. We are Fae.”

“What, like fairies?” Will couldn’t keep the disbelief from his smile.

Helen smiled at his enthusiastic skepticism. “The legends are numerous and varied, some claim they are the descendants of fallen angels, others claim they are from the lineage of the Tuatha De Danaan.” At Will’s raised eyebrows, Magnus forged ahead, “The Tribe of Danu, the Gaelic gods. The Tuatha De arrived in Ireland in clouds of mist, according to the mythos, likely from heaven due to their knowledge of architecture, the arts, and magic. At the First Battle of Magh Tuireadh they defeated the Fir Bolg, thus securing their reign over the land. A Second Battle of Magh Tuireadh was fought and won, however at the Third Battle the Tuatha De were defeated, and when the victors divided the lands with them, they granted themselves the land above ground and they gave the Tuatha De the land underground. So it was that the Tuatha De Danaan came to live in the Sidhe mounds and the Daoine Sidhe were born.”

“Children of gods, really?” Will gave Magnus a look full of disbelief.

“Well, obviously, fallen angels or children of the gods, these are just stories of the old local folklore. A way to explain evolved creatures that differed so drastically from the human cultures of the area. Creatures with advanced abilities that these people had no other way of explaining. The true origins of this evolutionary strand of abnormals has, unfortunately, been lost to history. But the lore is at least colorful and entertaining.”

“Our dear Helen here has devoted her life to science and all of its many pursuits, and so she finds it easiest to explain things in terms of ‘evolution’ and ‘advanced ability’. She always has had rather the hardest time opening her mind to believe in the concept of true magick.”

“Magic? Seriously?” Will gave a chuckle, but the look in Rowan’s eyes quickly silenced it.

“Cén fáth, you did just have a trio of witches in your home, did you not?”

He leaned back in the chair, fingers steepled, trying to digest all this information. Immortal fairies. Gods and their progeny. Magic? “Wait, what did you mean you ‘heard the call’ when the Morrigan used their powers?”

“Danu and her sisters, Tatha and Caird, are part of the old magicks of Eire, just as the Daoine Sidhe are. We are rooted to the lands that bore us, fundamentally connected to it and to each other. When they unleashed their magick, it was like loosing a shockwave. Macalla. It sent a pulse through the Isle of Eire, a pulse that echoed through the hearts of all her Childer. Not much speaks so loudly from the Olde Earth anymore, so when something does we pay heed.”

“If that is the case, then why do we not have the rest of the Daoine Sidhe at our door asking about the Morrigan?”

Rowan’s features became stoic and withdrawn, her gaze turned down to her lap, her hands twisting and bunching the soft fabric of her skirts.

Magnus cleared her throat and as Will’s focus turned to her, he saw a deep sadness in her eyes. “Because, Will, there are no other Daoine Sidhe. Rowan is the last of her kind.”

“Oh. God. I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s alright,” Rowan smiled at him sadly. “You couldn’t have known, and it’s been my reality for a long time. Tá síocháin déanta agam. I can see that you still have many questions. It’s alright, I’ll answer them as best I can. The first, obviously, is that if we are immortal, how can I be the last?” Will nodded. “The Daoine Sidhe have no natural life span; we are born, we grow to maturity, and then we stop, our physical bodies forever frozen at their peak. Some, who are very old, may choose to allow a bit of their age to show, lines at the corners of their eyes, turning hair, but even still, those of our elders who choose this path will only appear as a human of late forties or early fifties. You would never find a Fae the physical equivalent of an average human elder- seventies, eighties, nineties. Because our cells cease their growth process at the height of health and maturity, they never degenerate and decay, therefore we as a species have no natural cause of death. Our life span is indefinite and unlimited by entropy and deterioration.”

Rowan stood and paced to the cold fireplace, hands clasped behind her back, gaze fixed on some invisible focal point beyond the mantle. “That does not, however, mean that we cannot die. We can be killed, we have no immunity to mortal wounds, just as no other creature has no such capacity. We have impressive regenerative capabilities and heal faster and more fully than mortal entities, but a killing blow will end us just as surely as it would you. We also possess rather intense and thorough immune systems, a common cold or flu does not exist for the Fae, nor do any of us succumb to cancer or other such diseases. Yet, that does not mean we cannot fall ill; there are sicknesses that ravage and even kill Daoine Sidhe that you have no knowledge or understanding of, nor would they have any effect on you at all.” She turned back to them and her eyes fell on Will as she continued. “Death, as you know it, is not the only end to life for one of the Fair Folk. Whereas you have no choice in the matter of your eventual and inevitable death, we Sidhe have every choice since a natural end is not afforded us. As a species, eternal life can appear to be a fantastic gift to those who are limited to less than a century. However, to those faced with an endless eternity, such a gift has quite the way of easily becoming a burden and a curse.” For the briefest of moments, she rested sympathetic eyes and a sad smile upon Helen. “Mallacht sáraitheach. For some, this burden becomes too much to bear, and rather than live on endlessly and forever, they choose to simply fade away. The Daoine Sidhe are children of Eire, sprung from her earth and raised on her waters, we are bound to and fueled by her lands- thus the deep rooted connection between all Childer of the Isle- in this way, if we so choose, we can cut our ties to this physical plane and return to the thrum of the magicks of her earth.

“Some of my Kin fell ill to various plagues among our people, more died in one battle or another. As the centuries stretched on and on, most grew weary of endless existence and began to Fade. As more of my Kith Faded into oblivion and our numbers dwindled fewer and fewer and fewer, it became even harder for those left to continue on. The loneliness, the lack of others not only of their kind but of any creature who existed as they did, who remembered times long gone, who held the memories of the Olde Magicks or even the current world while it was still in its infancy. As more and more chose to Fade, usually the oldest first, those among the numbers of our elders dwindled to almost nothingness. Which placed a new strain on those that remained; how do you combat the isolation and abandonment that you feel when there is no one left who remembers the first thousand or more years of your life? How do you convince yourself to push forward when everyone you knew, loved, grew and shared everything with is gone? How do you justify living as worth it when you have literally nothing left, and not even eventual inevitable release is offered you?” Rowan stared unseeingly at her hands in front of her, fingers twisting aimlessly at the ends of her hair. “And so, one by one, all the remaining Daoine Sidhe gave up. The end of the long, distinguished line of a noble species. Faded out of existence leaving naught a trace. Níl ann ach mise, anois. Tá mé i m'aonair.”

A heavy, suffocating silence fell in the wake of her words. Will sat motionless, stunned and shocked, Helen’s blue eyes were filled with tears, a few that had escaped still glistening on her cheeks. When Rowan finally spoke again, her voice, barely more than a whisper, was nearly deafening after the oppressive quiet. “I hope this has been a sufficient answer. Please, William, what else do you wish to know?”

Will nodded, cleared his throat, straightened himself in the chair. “Um, well, I guess,” he paused.

Rowan smiled wanly, “It’s all right. Go ahead.”

He cleared his throat again, “Honestly, I’m wondering why. If you’re all alone and your longevity is such a burden, why did you stay?”

“Why did I not Fade as the rest of my Kith did? Well, at the time I was fairly young, relatively speaking, for a Fae- I still am- I had not spent the time here to grow weary of this life, nor lonesome for companionship and understanding. I was hungry, for everything- life, experience, knowledge. Gach rud. After the first handful or so decades alone, the isolation did start to take its toll; however, I had grown wise enough to recognize that I didn’t wish to take my leave without the full wealth and richness of every experience I desired, and even after centuries of life there were a few I was lacking.” She moved back to the settee and settled herself next to Helen. “I was thirsty for knowledge, the world was just truly coming into it you know, dramatic advances by leaps and bounds, and I wanted to study everything. It was the late 1800s, Oxford was the premier school of the world, and I wanted to learn. I only audited, of course, but I sat in on everything. In the autumn of my first year in London, I met the most exquisite woman,” she reached out and cupped Helen’s face in her hands, tenderly brushing the tears from her eyes as she spoke. “She was bright and vivacious and determined, with the most insatiable appetite for life, knowledge, exploration. The first time I ever laid eyes on her, I knew she was the most radiant creature I had ever beheld. Croí mo chroí.” Helen’s hand raised to her cheek and placed itself gently over Rowan’s. Eyes locked, the two women smiled at each other, lost in memory. Will watched them with deep curiosity as Rowan continued, “She was unequivocally the most alive person I had ever met, not to mention the most mysterious and alluring, and I decided, upon seeing the drive with which she attacked the world, that there was something out there for me that was worth sticking around to discover.”

Will smiled at the sweetness of the exchange, “How did you two meet, anyway?”

Rowan stroked Helen’s now dry cheek affectionately before returning her hand to her lap. “Your turn for storytelling. I’m quite curious to hear how you remember it,” she said with a wink and a smile.

Helen beamed back at her in return. “Cheeky,” she grinned. “It was late September of 1884, I was beginning my third year at Oxford, lectures were done for the day and weather was nice, lots of us were sprawled about the grounds out of doors. Most of the fellows were picnicking or playing various games, a few close friends and I were taking the opportunity to compare notes and discuss theories about a pet project we were working on. There was a bit of a commotion across the promenade that caught our attention, a crowd of young men were striding through the park, all clustered together and adamantly focused on something in the midst of their congregation. My companions stood to see if they could get a better view of what was causing all the ruckus, that’s when the crowd of gentlemen parted and a young woman emerged from within.”

She glided across the grass of the courtyard as if she were floating, her full and flowing skirts trailing behind, a stunning jewel of purple. Her hair glittered in the light of the setting sun like rubies caught fire, plaited in the latest fashions about her crown, long curls spilling elegantly down her back. She moved with such natural grace and it was clear to see why she was leaving gawping faces and enthusiastic clumsy attentions in her wake. She was elegant, fascinating, magnetic. Helen found herself inexplicably drawn to the striking woman. She could hear her companions speaking amongst themselves in the background, but their voices came to her ears as if across a great void. “Who is that?” “New auditing student.” “Have any of you met her?” “When did she arrive?” “Any of you chaps know her name?” None of their conversation really registered with Helen, though, for she was caught in the pull of the tide flowing out, to her. Transfixed, she couldn’t look away. That was when, as if drawn by Helen’s gaze, the woman looked up from her admirers, across the promenade, straight into Helen’s eyes. Breath caught in her chest, heart thrumming in her throat. Her eyes. Glittering emeralds, glowing with their own light, their own life. It was as if the dazzling woman was staring straight into her soul. Her gaze sent chills all the way up Helen’s spine. No one had ever looked at her that way before. No one had ever looked into her. She smiled, and Helen’s pulse fluttered. Then she turned back in the direction she had been heading and was gone.

Three evenings later, one of the senior fellows was holding a formal ‘back to university’ gathering to which Helen and her colleagues were in attendance. While mingling about the salon, mostly speaking of the week’s most fascinating lectures, there was a bit of a hubbub from the front hall. Moments later, the woman from the courtyard entered the parlor. To Helen’s great surprise, within seconds the woman’s eyes locked onto hers and she glided straight across the room, directly toward Helen. The woman both kissed Helen’s hand and dipped into a small curtsy, though their eyes never parted, introducing herself as Rowan Llewellyn, starting her first year of attendance at Oxford. She said she’d very much like to talk to another woman in attendance as she hadn’t met many people since arriving in London and hadn’t even seen another woman about campus aside from Helen, who was rather enamored herself by the idea of speaking with another woman braving the male dominated world of university at that time. She commented briefly about the press of the crowd and the stuffiness of the room suggesting a stroll through the garden; having already been introduced to the world of abnormals by her father almost ten years prior and wishing to have the opportunity to study this woman more closely, Helen leapt at the excuse for a chance to talk privately.

The two women made their excuses to Helen’s companions and arm in arm walked out into the gardens, strolling under the moonlight. Once they had made their way a good distance into the flowers and fountains, well away from earshot of anyone who might come out onto the lanai for some air or privacy of their own, Rowan broke their companionable silence. “Lady Helen Magnus. I asked about campus after you following our brief encounter across the promenade. Might your father be Dr. Gregory Magnus?”

Helen allowed herself a small smile at the interest Rowan had shown in discovering more about her after only a brief glance, “Yes, actually, he is. Do you know him?”

“We’ve never met, but I’ve heard rather a great deal about him over the years. Both him, and his work.” The last word carried a great deal of emphasis. “Do you work with him?”

“My father has shared with me much of his practice, and I hold great interest in working with him on some of his more specialized projects. Though, that won’t begin until after I complete my studies, of course.”

“Of course. You’re in your third year, are you not? A large accomplishment for a woman of these times, especially one so lovely.”

“Are you implying, Miss Llewellyn, that a pretty face hides an absence of intellect?” Helen lifted an eyebrow at such an implication.

“Surely not, my lady. Simply acknowledging that someone with your charms could easily be the prized bride of any prosperous gentleman she chooses, and thus well kept and cared for. To strike out on one’s own and make one’s own way, especially in university halls, in medicine no less, as not only a woman but an enchanting one at that, is an honorable and admirable feat. If it pleases,” Rowan smiled at her with such genuineness it set her heart to flutter.

“My,” Helen stared at her, at a complete loss for what to make of this rare and beautiful creature before her, nor what to make of the foreign feelings swirling inside her.

“You are unique, Lady Helen, and utterly enchanting. I find myself entirely enraptured by you. I would consider myself most fortunate to find myself blessed with the pleasure of your continued companionship during my stay in London. Might I call on you in the future, possibly engage the honor of your guidance round yon fair city?” she dipped a dramatic bow and a cheeky wink, the corner of her mouth quirking into a wry smile.

Helen felt her cheeks warm and was glad for the low light of the starlit garden to hide the color she knew must be there. This woman, the language and gestures were overtly intended as comical, though the affections were obviously genuine. Women did not behave this way toward other women, not in polite society or otherwise, and well-bred ladies attending university to become well respected doctors did not return feelings toward advances from mysterious women they had just met. And yet.

Helen curtsied low to match the obvious drama Rowan had displayed. “It would be my pleasure to accept your call, Miss Llewellyn, and I would be most happy to show you about London. After all, we can’t leave you unescorted on your first journey to our esteemed capital.” She smiled warmly down upon Rowan as the fire-haired maiden bent to kiss her hand, piercing green eyes never leaving her own twinkling blue, Helen’s pulse hammering in her ears.

The distant shuffle of footsteps, the rustle of leaves, faint voices calling out.

“Adieu and anon, Fair Lady. My gratitude for a moonlight stroll with such enchanting company.” Her lips brushed the back of Helen’s hand while she spoke, lingering as she gazed longingly into the intense crystal blue eyes of the radiant woman standing before her. Eyes full of wonder, a playful smile tugging the corners of full supple lips, angelic blond curls spilling over smooth bare shoulders, maroon satin ruched just so to accentuate supple rounded flesh peaking over the top of a shapely corseted bodice. The most beautiful woman she had ever seen, and she was unequivocally spellbound.

The distant shuffle now deliberate footfalls, faint voices now clearly men calling Helen’s name.

Lips pressed a gentle, intentional kiss firmly to the delicate hand she held as she forced herself to stand and pull away. “Tá tú chomh hálainn. Sweet night and pleasant dreamings to thee.” She bowed once more and backed away into the night, disappearing into the indistinguishable shadows of the moonlit garden, eyes still lingering on Helen’s even after the other woman had lost sight of her to the dark.

The crunch of gravel behind her finally tore Helen’s gaze away from the patch of shadow where the enigmatic Miss Rowan Llewellyn had vanished from her sight, the man’s voice breaking into the swirling multitude of thoughts and feelings coursing through her body, “There you are, Darling. Are you quite alright?”

“Yes, of course. Just taking in some air.” The man’s long arm wrapped about her waist, drawing her down the pathway, back toward the party. For a brief moment, she threw a fleeting glance over her shoulder hoping, well she wasn’t quite sure what for. Yet the moment passed, and she settled her stride to match her beau’s. “Shall we take a turn through Piccadilly this evening on the ride home?”

“We saw much of each other throughout the subsequent semester, both on and off campus. We shared several classes whose lectures we enthusiastically dissected with each other, but more than that it was simply thrilling to have a woman to socialize with who wasn’t looking down her nose at us for daring to have the unwomanly audacity to sit next to the men folk in the lecture halls vying for accolades and accreditation equal to theirs. It was a different time, Will, a different world. Women were meant to sit in parlors with their smallwork, to bear babies to their husbands, to organize charity galas, and to keep house. Education of that level for women was unheard of; studying philosophy, science, medicine, well that was the devil’s work.”

Will had listened to Helen’s tale in rapt silence, closely watching the two women sitting across from him. Their eyes had been on each other while Helen recounted their history, and based on the fleeting micro-expressions on their faces and the minute tells of their body language, it was rather clear to Dr. Zimmerman, profiler extraordinaire, that there was more to this story than was being put into words for his benefit. A lot more.

“Well,” Rowan said, “I’m sure there’s questions you now have for Helen alone that you would prefer to ask in private. If the two of you will excuse me, I’ll take my leave of you for now and set about exploring this gorgeous place. I’d like some time to collect my thoughts and wander my own memories, anyway.”

Will tried to keep the surprise out of his expression as he stood to extend his temporary farewells. It was absolutely true that he wanted to talk to Magnus privately for the moment, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how Rowan had known that.

She stood and leaned over Helen, lips caressing her ear as she barely breathed, “I’ll find you later,” too quietly for Will to hear. She then brushed a gentle kiss against the sweep of her neck and left the room in a quiet rustle of green.

Heat rose to Helen’s cheeks as she watched her go, the loose and flowing construction of her dress allowing far more of the shape of her body to be viewed than the many-layered garments of the late Victorian era that she had worn when Helen knew her last. Helen realized she’d been staring after her, and dropped her gaze to the hands clasped in her lap, painfully aware that she was blushing and Will’s keen eye would not miss that fact.

She could feel his penetrating gaze on her as he analyzed what he had just heard and seen and assessed how best to go about getting the information he wished to know.

“Go ahead, Will,” she said calmly. “Ask what you wish to know. I’ll answer. Every room, every door, right?”

“Magnus, this has nothing to do with us working together. This isn’t a patient or a case. This is your personal life. I have no right to pry, nor to demand full disclosure. My questions are merely curiosity from the perspective of a new friend who would like to get to know you better.”

“Go ahead,” she repeated.

Will cleared his throat. “Alright.” He sat forward in his chair, fingers laced, forearms propped on his thighs, eyes focused on her face. “Did, uh, did you two have, um… Did you have a thing?”

Magnus let out a chuckle at his awkwardness as she looked up at him. “No, we did not have ‘a thing’. Mutual attraction, some seriously intense sexual tension, a handful of hidden coatroom kisses. But nothing ever came of any of it.”

Will’s eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline, bringing a grin to Magnus’ face.

“What, because I’m a relic straight out of good ol’ Victorian England, I can’t have kissed a girl and liked it?”

Now it was Will’s turn to feel heat in his cheeks. “No, I just…. What happened?”

“It was All Hallow’s Eve 1885. I was throwing a party, bit of a masquerade. Music, horderves, dancing, drinks. Some fellows from school, some ladies that I knew from our presentation days, some colleagues of my father’s who mostly kept to his library so as not to ‘spoil the fun for the young folks’. Everyone bedecked with masks, offering a bit of anonymity and allowing folks to mingle a bit more freely than they would have otherwise. There had been no receiving line, and I had arrived half an hour into the affair myself, so that no one knew who anyone else was. Everyone danced and milled about having anonymous conversations, it was a grand time. The soiree had been in full swing for about two hours or so, and most of the gentlemen had retired to the front parlor for cigars and brandys, leaving the gaggle of masked ladies to partner with each other on the dance floor, giggling and gossiping. There was a knock at the door, and our man escorted a late guest who had finally arrived to the ballroom. She cut a striking figure in a stunning sleeveless ballgown; black corset with blood red boning, a panel of black lace down the back behind the blood red laces, the voluminous skirt alternating panels of black and red, studded with sparkling gemstones of the opposite color in swirling patterns down the full length of the skirt. Red jewels hung from her neck, and black from her ears, she wore an elaborate mask dancing with gems that shone in the candlelight, as was the call for the night, it obscured her whole face. Yet there was no mistaking that hair. Laced through with sprigs of black pearls, twisted and coiffed and curled into the very definition of elegance, the waves cascading down the center of her back, brushing the waist of her gown, and red as fire rubies.

“She glided across the room, curtsied, and escorted me onto the dance floor where she twirled me about as effortlessly as if we were dancing on clouds, and for the way it felt, maybe we were. By the end of the third song, we had somehow made our way to the doorway of the salon that was serving as coatroom for the duration of the masquerade. She spun me through the doors, had them closed behind us, and was turning me through the final steps of the dance all in one liquid movement. She danced us farther into the room, deeper amidst the rows of racks of coats and furs, further into the shadows. Her eyes held me rapt, my heart in my throat, as she gingerly pulled the mask from my face, smiling, stroking my cheek.

“Your ensemble is stunning, my Lady, but I would gaze upon thy lovely face,” she said. She tugged at the ribbons of her own mask and, once removed, tossed them both onto a chair in the corner, taking my hands in hers. Her eyes. My God, it was like she was trying to drink me up with them. She drew her hands up my arms, across my shoulders, up the sides of my neck. My skin tingled and pulsed under her touch. Those eyes, they searched my face, looking deep for something. They found it, or maybe didn’t, depending on exactly what she was looking for; because then, her right hand still cupping the side of my neck, her left sliding around to cradle the back of my head, she drew me to her, ever so slowly, bent her head, eyes still boring right into me the whole time, and she kissed me. Slow, gentle, lingering, tender. Each caress of lips so deliberate. She held my face, and she breathed in to me, her tongue ran lightly across my lower lip, then she was kissing me again, my lip between hers, sucking ever so softly. My whole body was on fire, I could feel each and every nerve where her skin touched my bare flesh, all of them quivering with desire, and I was intimately aware of the length of her pressed against the length of me as we stood there lost to all the world, save each other. Her fingers slid into my hair at the base of my neck and her other hand glided its way down my back, stopping in that curve just above hips, and she pulled me tighter against her. I could feel the heat, the desire, rolling off her in waves, her breath coming in short gasps, yet every move she made remained very intentional, and the moment went on and on and on.

“I was no innocent maiden at that point in my life, Will. I was thirty-five and while some aspects of physical romance had not yet made themselves known to me, I wasn’t completely ignorant of it all. Now, well, I can assure you I am well and truly an experienced woman, but I have never been kissed like that in my life, ever.

“She drew back from my lips, her face hovering in front of mine, our foreheads almost touching, her breath quick and short, just as mine was, those vibrantly intense emerald eyes of hers staring straight into my soul. For a long moment, she just stood there looking at me, stone still except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Then she pressed her cheek to mine, her lips brushing against my left ear, her breath tickling the few loose ringlets that fell down my neck, and she whispered to me, “I’ve been dying to do that from the moment I first laid eyes on you.” I could feel her smile against my ear. ”I wanted the first kiss I gave you to be one that you would never forget.”

“She let go of me all at once, dropping into a sweeping bow, “Fair night, lovely Lady, and sweet dreamings to thee.” With a flourish, she swept out of the room and was gone.”

Helen’s breathing had quickened with the memory of the kiss, her fingers unconsciously on her lips, and she sat silently, trying to quell the tingling nerves crawling across her skin.

“Wow,” Will uttered, almost to himself.

“That kiss was the singular most paramount experience of my life. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of monumental comparisons by which to judge it.” Helen took a deep, steadying breath. “Things only got more intense from there. On the Christmas Eve of 1891 we held a small get together, just a handful of closest friends, to exchange gifts, eat, drink, and make merry. No band, no ballroom, just an intimate gathering in the salon. I had dismissed the staff for the week to spend time with their families, and so I was playing full hostess that night. The six of us were sitting informally in the salon trading stories and catching up on each other’s lives, we had gone a bit separate ways since Oxford, but we still got together for special occasions. At one point, I had gotten up to take something to or retrieve something from the kitchens- I don’t remember what now- but as I was down the hall, closer to the kitchen than the salon, Rowan caught up to me. She had excused herself from the men and had followed me out. No sooner had I turned around to the sound of her footsteps than she had her hands on my hips, pushing me into an alcove in the wall- someplace we’d be out of the line of eyesight should anyone else leave the salon- her lips on mine, kissing me fervently. She pressed me into the wall, her hands sliding up my sides as she kissed at my neck, my collar bone, across the neckline of my dress, back up my neck, across the line of my jaw. I was panting, my hands running the length of her back, trying to draw her closer to me. Her hips pressed against mine, her strong delicate hands stroked their way up my chest as she ran them up my arms, holding my wrists against the wall above my head, kissing me again and again, harder, with more desperation.

“The whole length of her body now pressed against mine as she held me against the wall, her free hand drawing my skirt toward my waist, her fingertips brushed the bare skin of my thigh, and she traced them up my leg, drawing my knee up to rest on her hip bone, her hand then sliding back to cup my bum. I couldn’t kiss her hard enough, fast enough, deep enough; I just wanted more of her- I wanted all of her.

“Pulling my hips harder against hers, she drew her lips away from mine, again running kisses down and up my neck, a shudder of pleasure coursing through my whole body. Then her whisper brushed against my ear, just as it always did, “My gods, do you have any idea how exquisite you are? I just couldn’t stand it any longer, sitting in there watching you from across the room, not being able to touch you. Is ar éigean is féidir liom é a iompróidh.” She glided the hand she had under my bum up my abdomen and wrapped it around my right breast, squeezing gently, and she kissed me again; deep, passionate, full of hunger and desire, but tender, intentional. “Oh, gods.” She breathed against my gasping mouth, her breath just as ragged and erratic as mine. “Tá m’intinn caillte, you drive me crazy! I swear, I can’t think when you’re around.”

I laughed at her at that, “Oh, please. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and we always talk about the latest scientific advancements, we’ve traded philosophical views for years, you’re knowledge of the arts is vast beyond imagining and you’ve schooled me on more than one o-” Her mouth pressing over mine stopped my train of thought as well as my words.

“Bíodh sin mar atá, I can’t think of anything but you when you’re around. You tucked that errant lock of hair behind your ear earlier, and all I wanted to do was kiss you here,” her lips brushed across my ear, “and here,” the bit of tender flesh just behind the lobe, “and here,” up and down the side of my neck. “You had a bit of jelly tart,” she brushed delicate fingertips across the corner of my mouth, “and I just wanted to,” her tongue flicked across the same spot, then traced my swollen lips before she pressed hers over them again. “You leaned down to set the tea on the table in front of me, and I,” her eyes were watching my chest rise and fall in heavy, panting breaths, her hands sliding over me cupping the underside of my bosom, her hot shallow breath on my skin as she kissed feverishly along the tops of my bare breasts where my corset spilled them out the top of my dress. She muttered into my chest, the exact words muffled and lost in the press of flesh. Their meaning, however, was quite clear. She was just as aroused and hungry as I was, and she also knew just as well as I did that there was nothing to be done about it.

“Don’t look at me like that, Will. It simply wasn’t done in those days, and as open-minded and forward thinking as I have always been, there were some conventions of society that just couldn’t be broken until times had changed enough for me to still keep my feet under me if anything was ever discovered. I was building the Network, after all, and it was a cause just as important to Rowan as it was to me. We both understood what was at stake, and we were both willing to put our personal desires aside for the sake of larger things. Not to mention, we weren’t alone. Four well-known, upstanding, and revered men sitting in my salon at that very moment, one my father. What, precisely, do you think would have happened if we had just disappeared to my bedchamber to conduct our affair?

“With sighs of frustration from our lips and longing in our eyes, we parted ways to compose ourselves and rejoin the rest of our assemblage. Rowan set off to the powder room, and then the kitchen to collect whatever it was I was supposed to be bringing back with me. She’d make my excuses to the boys and garner me a bit more time to get myself together, which I sorely needed.

“A few moments quiet to myself, my legs too weak to hold me without the support of the walls, I was propped in that alcove, my skirts wrinkled, my hair mussed, my breasts spilling a bit overmuch from my neckline. I might have known it was best not to act upon the desires burning within me with Rowan, but I was neither inexperienced nor prude enough to be closed to the notion of acting upon them by myself, if for no other reason than to satisfy my arousal enough to be able to return to my father’s presence without fantasies of a sexy female abnormal flooding my thoughts. So in the handful of minutes that I had left before I was missed overmuch, my own fingers found their way beneath the hem of my skirts and worked at the places Rowan couldn’t touch while the rest of my body quivered with the memory of her caresses still fresh on my flesh.”

Will’s face was so flushed, Magnus thought he might faint. “You did ask to hear this, did you not?” she asked him, a suppressed smile twitching at the corners of her mouth anyway.

“Well, yeah, I just-” He stopped, cleared his throat, started again, “I guess I just didn’t expect that this story would include you, um, well…” He stopped again and made no attempt to continue.

“Did you think me incapable?”

“What? No! I mean, I’d never considered… Uh-” Will floundered miserably, stuttering. Then he noticed the teasing smile spreading on Magnus’s lips and the mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Ah, I see.” He smiled ruefully.

“I am sorry that I’ve embarrassed you, Will. But history lessons about Rowan and I don’t much come without kisses and fondling in some form or other.”

A bit of the extra color had left Will’s cheeks as he flopped back in the armchair, “Jesus. But I don’t understand, you were both obviously into each other, like seriously into each other. I mean, that’s pretty hot and heavy, Magnus. How did you get from that to ‘nothing ever came of any of it’?”

Magnus sighed, a wistful smile playing across her lips. “May Day, 1898, she showed up at a garden party I was hosting. She made eyes to me from across the lawn and disappeared into the house. I excused myself from the group of guests I had been talking to, and I followed her. Once inside, I began hunting through the rooms for where she had gone. As I passed the parlor door, a hand reached out and pulled me inside, sliding the door closed behind me. In the stretch of a blink she had closed the distance, wrapped one hand around my neck and the other about my waist, and her lips were pressed to mine. Delicate, tender, slow. Like the first time. She took her time, gently caressing me with her supple lips. Time slowed, the world disappeared, we were the only two beings in all of existence. When our lips parted, her eyes were more intense than I’d ever seen them before. She took my hands, and her look took on a somber quality.

“Run away with me, Helen,” she said.

Helen let out a peal of ringing laughter. “Be serious, Rowan. Run away? To where, why? Our lives are here, our friends are here, our work is here.”

“I am serious. You’ve been through so much these last years, you need time, you need respite in which to heal. You always spend so much time taking care of everyone else, you take care of the whole world, but you need taking care of too.”

“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you.” Helen smiled in mock offense.

“Yes, I know, but you don’t. You never save any time for yourself.” Rowan dropped her hands and paced anxiously across the floor. Frustration at an inability to express herself was clear in her countenance. “I don’t mean we should disappear, much as I envy the idea of falling off the face of the earth with you. But we could go for a time. Take a trip, we’ll go anywhere you wish. There’s so much of the world it would give me great pleasure to show you.” She turned back to face the golden haired beauty standing in the center of the room; soft sunlight gleaming in her sapphire eyes, playing across the highlights of her delicate curls setting them on fire, creating a fitting halo about her elegant face. Rowan’s pounding heart caught in her throat at the sight. She’s magnificent, she thought, the most glorious creature ever to exist. She’s witty, and charming, and brilliant- one of the foremost minds in the world… and she can’t even see how I feel about her. “Just the two of us, in some far off city, exploring the culture by day,” her vibrant, mossy eyes drank in the length of Helen’s stunning figure, “exploring each other by night. Do come, we could be on the train tonight. Ní fheiceann tú go bhfuil grá agam duit?”

“As enticing as that proposition is, there’s simply far too much to be done right now. With Father away someone has to keep everything in order; the expansions to the Sanctuary, we’re taking on new residents by the dozen, cataloguing the correspondences he’s sending back, to say nothing of the massive shipment he’s sent. I’ve barely even gotten half of it unboxed.” Helen closed the distance between the two women.

“What about James, he could-” Helen laid a gentle finger across Rowan’s lips, silencing her.

“It’s just not possible right now. Too much is at stake, not the least of which if anyone were to see us….” Her words trailed, leaving the harsh reality of the situation unspoken. She slowly twined her arms around Rowan’s waist, palms flat against her back, drawing their bodies closer. “In the meantime,” she smiled, removing the remaining distance between their lips, electricity sparking between them, mouths pressed fervently together, Rowan’s fingers twisting their way into Helen’s curls, soft moans escaping from both mouths.

“This isn’t the end of this conversation, Fairest Lady,” breathless voice emanating through a cheshire grin reaching all the way to probing eyes captivated by the face they witnessed. “I will give you time to get your affairs in order, and I shall ask you again. Perchance you shall be less thoroughly engaged with other pursuits by Midsommer.”

“She wrapped her arms tighter and drew me closer to her. She kissed me like her life depended on it, long and slow, every feeling either of us had ever had for the other all pressed into that single joining of lips. She lingered, like she couldn’t bear to part, and I couldn’t either. When she did pull away, pulled so very slowly away, her eyes on mine, like she was memorizing every facet and shift of color, she brushed her thumb gently over my lips, one final caress. Crossing back to the door, she slipped her hand into the gap and slid one side back into its pocket in the wall. She winked at me, her devilish grin full of cheek, and was gone.

“After a few moments to compose myself and a quick glance in the mirror above the fireplace to make sure my hair was still in place, I smoothed my skirts and followed her through the doorway.

“I didn’t see her for the next fifty-one days, an attempted correspondence elicited a simple written reply, ‘I shan’t engage your attention toward pursuits other than thy current occupation of settling affairs into order, thus possibly engaging another dismissal of my petition for your attendance on holiday.’ Midsommer arrived, and my nerves were fluttering all day long. I had not realized how much comfort I had gotten used to drawing from her steadfast company. I missed her fiercely, and the desperate desire to see her again consumed me.

“Finally, half an hour before the meal was called, I saw her enter the drawing room. I started to make my way across the room toward her, but halfway to her my course was diverted by some associates of a colleague of mine who wished to discuss some funding we had requested for one of our ventures.

“I thought to join her at table, but she wasn’t there. After, when the men retired for cigars and brandy and the women tucked in to gossip, I excused myself and began hunting through the house. She was here somewhere, tucked away in some empty room far from the rest of the gathered crowds, awaiting the chance to steal kisses behind the drapery and in the alcoves, just as she always was. Yet there was no sign of her, and upon inquiry the doorman announced he had seen her depart rather quickly just as everyone had been settling into the dining hall.”

“In the weeks that followed, when she never made an appearance at any of the various social functions, was absent from the music halls and the theatres, didn’t pay a call to any of her friends in residence at the Sanctuary, a dark knot of certainty settled itself in the pit of my stomach. I called to her apartments, even though in my heart I already knew what I would find. “She’s not here, Miss. Took a carriage out well after dark back Midsommer night, loaded down with trucks she was. Left instruction to place the rest of her belongings into storage. Ent leave no forwarding address,” her porter told me when I enquired at the door.

“She was gone.” Magnus’s unseeing eyes stared ahead, looking through the arcane mists of the past, recalling times long gone. Not for the first time, Will wondered just how much had transpired between them that had gone unsaid.

“I never saw her again. Not until she walked in here today like a ghost straight out of memory locked away long ago. I had begun to wonder if she was even still alive.”

Will sat quietly, staring out the window. He could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t fall far short of the response that her tale deserved.

“Will?”

“Yeah, Magnus. What is it?”

“I’m done talking for now. I think I’d like to be alone.”

“Yeah, of course.” Will stepped into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind himself, leaving Magnus to her memories.

Helen Magnus stood on a parapet of the tower jutting from the Sanctuary roof, watching the dying sun set the skyline of Old City on fire. She snugged her shawl around her shoulders against the wind, her chocolate locks lifting off her shoulders in soft waves.

“I had a feeling I’d find you up here,” the melodic voice from behind her sent a warm shiver up her spine. How quickly feelings long buried could wash back over you as if it were just yesterday you had felt them in the first place. Rowan soundlessly stepped up beside her, “It’s beautiful. Cé nach bhfuil sé chomh hálainn leat. I can see why you picked this spot.”

They stood in silence, gazing out at the last breaths of the day falling across the city that Helen had made her home for the last ninety years.

“Why did you leave?” Helen watched the final rays of light shine across the peaks of the cityscape.

“I’m sorry, leannán, I swore a promise. It’s not important anyway. You had work to do, and by the looks of it, you’ve done it well. My path lay elsewhere. What matters to me is that we are together now. I’ve missed you.”

Helen turned to face her, the dying light setting diamonds to sparkle in her deep blue eyes. She smiled. “I am very glad to see you.” Rowan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned her head against Rowan’s chest. The pair stood on the roof embraced that way as the full moon climbed high into the sky.

“Come,” Helen said once the orb had reached its zenith. “I think I’ve the perfect room for you.”

Rowan gently kissed the top of Helen’s head and stepped to the roof floor, offering her hand to Helen. She took it and, after stepping to the floor herself, they walked hand in hand back into Helen’s home.

Once back inside, they stopped at the first landing. At Rowan’s raised brows, Helen grinned and threw the door in front of them wide. It opened on a large square room ringed in oversized stained glass windows, though the ones to their left were doors leading to a small balcony overlooking the water, the tall ceiling all exposed rafters and stonework, gaslight sconces adorned the walls and a single gas chandelier hung from the central beam of the ceiling. Helen strode into the middle of the room where she turned circles with her arms held out from her sides, a playful smile making her mischievous eyes twinkle. “Well?”

“Déithe, it’s beautiful,” Rowan smiled, joining Helen in the middle of the gothic revival-esque room, turning a slow circle herself.

“It’s away from the rest of the rooms, so you’ll have plenty of privacy, it’s got views for days, we can make any changes or additions to it you’d like, I want you to feel at home here. There is one other, small benefit to this particular room’s location. I rarely sleep these days, not much anyway, and I spend much of my time on the tower roof at night. On occasion, one might happen to hear the sounds of a sleepless woman climbing the stairs outside their door and decide to mount the roof to offer the company of an old friend.” She quirked a conspiratorial smile.

“Well, in that case, I’d say it’s perfect. Thank you, Helen.”

“Welcome to the Sanctuary.”

#sanctuary #helen magnus #will zimmerman #fanfic #nsftumblr

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