this is a second attempt at tumblr. My old blog was Lunamadhatter99, I will repost everything I had on there here and keep on posting here from now on. Hopefully, this time, tumblr won't go crazy.🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻
Thank you all for the support once again, I apologise for the wait, it took me more than I expected.
I hope you'll like this chapter too🙊❤️❤️
As always, let me know if you like it and if you want to be added to the tag list❤️😘
Also a bit of a warning ⚠️ this chapter will contain harassment and a forced kiss (if anyone is interested in wanting to read the dark version I had in mind for this story let me know, I might write it after this is done)
Lyonel waited all evening, eager to see you, to be with you. You never came. He didn't want to think the worst of it, though that clutching thought caught him. Maybe you didn't want the same, maybe he scared you. These thoughts were making him spiral so he drank until he fell asleep, hoping to avoid the confrontation with his own fear for a while.
--------------
"I'm so sorry you have to go." You fight back tears as you hug Tanselle goodbye.
"It's better this way." She replies, squeezing you, "you can come with us, it would ease my mind to know you're not here on your own."
"I... I can't." You shake your head, "I can't leave him here. Maybe there's something I can do to help him. He doesn't deserve to be left here alone."
"I know." She nods, half-smiling, "I too wish could've done something more. He wanted to defend us."
"You have your family to think about." You reassure her caressing her arms gently, "he knows, don't worry."
"I left the shield to the blacksmith, tell him please."
You nod, blinking the tears away.
"We're ready to go." Someone informs her.
"I'll be right there." She nods, she turns to you again and brings you in for one last hug, "I'll miss you."
"So will I." You hug her tightly before letting her go.
You watch her go with sorrow in your heart, but you're glad they will be away from Aerion and his twisted sense of honor.
Back at camp, you caress the horses and try to stay calm and think of what you could do.
Your attention is drawn by a soft noise from behind you, though your features soften once Egg comes into view, you can't help the little tension unfortunately, now that you know who he actually is.
"My prince..." you lower your head.
"Please... not you." He mutters now in front of you, "I'm sorry I lied."
You sigh, sitting down near the horses and Egg does the same.
"I understand why you did it, it's just..." you try to find the right words, "you're a Prince, not simply someone else's son."
"I don't want you to see me any differently, I... I tried to talk to my uncle about ser Duncan, about what happened..."
"Your uncle, the heir to the throne... fuck this is a lot to get used to..." you chuckle under your breath, "I don't see you differently, Egg," you see his shoulders relax when you say this name, "but I am expected to."
"I know... I just don't want you to." He says this so softly you almost miss it.
"Did you see Dunk?" You ask, hands fidgeting nervously.
"He's alright... just angry."
"You can't blame him." You state, "I... I wanted to thank you, I know it was you who spare me the same fate as him."
"I couldn't do anything for him, not yet, but you... I had to." He stares ahead, something dark flickering in his eyes, "I didn't want my brother to deal with you himself."
You nod, understanding what he means by it, making you even more grateful for his intervention.
"What will happen to him?"
"I don't know... I left him with my uncle." Egg sighs, anxiety clear in his tiny body, "I heard my brother, Daeron, he told my father that I was kidnapped."
"What?" You snap, "what... and he said it was Dunk who did it? He's fucked."
"There must be something..." he looks at you, hopeful.
"But what?" You counter, "I mean, even if he will get away with punching a prince, this accusation can't be ignored... not that Aerion would let this slide. I don't think even your grandfather could deny him that."
"It's all my fault..."
"It's not." You assure him, "you didn't force him to." You look towards the small river close by, "the only thing that could safe his limbs is a trial by combat."
"I'm afraid so."
--------------
You wish you could've said no to Raymun Fossoway when he offered you to stay in their tent for a while, but the imminent rain was a good enough incentive and you couldn't afford risking a fever, so now you're nursing a cup of wine, trying your absolute best not to go grab Dunk yourself.
You're very close in doing so when Raymun is back, followed by your tall friend. You waste no time and rush to hug him.
"You're alive!" You exclaim.
He returns the hug, ever grateful for your friendship, and he's also relieved because he was afraid they'd take you as well, so seeing you in front of him, or better, in his arms, is an absolute relief.
"I was afraid you got arrested too." He exhales, he feels like at least one weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"What happened?" You ask.
"I..." you can see him tensing again, fear and anxiety can be read all over his face, "the prince demanded a trial of the Seven."
"A trial of the Seven?!" You exclaim, "that's insane!"
All Dunk can do is shrug, defeated.
You all sit down, listening to Dunk on what happened to him and about his conversations with prince Baelor.
"Duncan, that means battleaxes, morningstars, and lances of war." Raymun, delicately as always, comments.
"I know what it means." Dunk replies flatly.
"I apologize." Steffon steps in, "seems cousin here has milk in his veins."
"Oh, fuck off, I just meant..."
"This is knightly combat, Raymun." He interrupts hia cousin, "as you are no knight, your skin in not at risk." That shut him up fully, he then turns to Dunk, "I saw what Aerion did to those puppeteers." You glance away remember the fear in their eyes, "all knights vow to protect the innocent. Even hedge knights, I assume. I'm for you."
Dunk look at him, as his words sinks in a ray of hope does as well. You look at Steffon, something doesn't sit right with you, but if he could be of help in not letting your friend die, you leave it.
"Thank you, ser. Perhaps you shouldn't."
"It pains me to admit it, but Steffon's a fine sword." Raymun says to convince Dunk to accept Steffon help.
"Why would that pain you?"
You can guess why, but you don't want to voice it.
"I don't doubt that." Dunk says before the two cousins start bickering again, "but the Dragon house will not look kindly on those who oppose them."
"Then we should go to those who don't give two shits about it." You declare, standing up.
"What are you doing?" Dunk is confused.
"You're not going to win a trial of the Seven sitting here, wallowing and declare yourself dead before you even stepped foot outside." You scold him, you refuse to accept his fate "so, gentlemen, thank you for the company, but I'll go."
"Wait, wait, go where?" Dunk is not very willing to let you go outside, at knight, on your own.
"Just... let me help you, please."
You two stare at each other for a long moment, Dunk wants you to just sit back down and don't put yourself in trouble because of him, you just want to go out and find at least someone willing to help your friend. You know you're winning the staring contest, because your determination won't allow you to back down.
"Alright." He nods, he's not sure about it, he doesn't agree with it, but he knows you won't let him stop you, "just... don't get in trouble. Not for me."
"You know me, I could never." You smile and turn around to walk out.
"Y/n!" He calls, you turn to him, "thank you."
You wink at him and get out.
You walk around the camp for a bit, not entirely sure who to ask, or where to ask when you notice two figures hidden by hoods: a short one and a taller one. You stare for a moment longer noticing the fine fabric and immediately catch up with them.
"I thought I told you to go back." You scold the little targaryen prince once you're close enough.
"Y/n!" Egg almost exclaims, "I..."
"What are you doing here?" You ask, more softly.
"I am his squire." He tells you, "it is my duty."
You can't help the smile forming on your face and kneel to be on his level.
"Are you sure?" You ask and he nods, "alright then, you did train for it after all."
"Precisely."
"So you're the one who's been keeping my younger brother out of trouble?" The other figure asks, you raise again, looking at him properly and your eyes widen recognising the prince.
"And you're the one who put my friend in deeper shit." You say.
"I... apologise..."
"Dunk won't be happy." You tell Egg.
"I know." He sighs, "but what are you doing out now?"
"Dunk needs champions... I'm trying to find some."
"Good luck with that." Daeron says dryly, making you glare at him.
"I'd ask ser Lyonel, if I were you." Egg suggests.
"I... well... I'm not sure."
"He'll surely help you."
"I'll... give it a try." You sigh, "go be his squire, my prince. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Be safe, Y/n."
"Always."
You let them go before setting your path towards the Baratheon pavilion, hoping Lyonel would be awake.
--------------
"My Lord?" A guard calls Lyonel from outside his tent.
"I am not to be disturbed." He mutters.
After finding out what happened to the puppeteers and, by extension, to you, he's been scolding himself for not being able to protect you, he wanted to find you but couldn't bring himself to face you, feeling like he failed you.
"My Lord, she says it's important."
"Who?"
"My Lord?" You call from outside, ignoring the guard's instructions to wait.
That snaps him out of his thoughts, he immediately stand up straight, frantically fixing his clothing.
"Come in, come in." He almost screams it.
You shyly enter his tent, losing all the word you wanted to say when your eyes fall on him.
"I... I hope I didn't wake you..."
"No," he immediately assure you, "not at all."
"Good." You nod, letting out a long relieved breath.
"You said it was important." He reminds you, then takes a bottle of wine, "need a drink, my lady?"
"Not now... thank you, I... I need to ask your help."
"Anything." Lyonel’s body softens, seeing how you're fidgeting, "is something wrong?"
"I don't know if you heard about what happened to the puppeteers."
"I did. I wanted to come find you but I..."
"It's alright." You reassure him, "anyway, I... Dunk was arrested and he's... he's to face a trial of the Seven on the morrow."
"He got himself noticed, didn't he, and it didn't involve his height." He let out a chuckle.
"Unfortunately." You chuckle as well, "the only problem is that it was prince Aerion who demanded the trial, and Dunk needs help in finding champions to fight by his side."
"Are you asking me to fight, my lady?" He steps closer to you.
"I..." you look up at him, "I am, my Lord... I'm sorry..."
"Why are you sorry?" He searches your face for answers, trying to decipher your thoughts before you have to voice them.
"It's not exactly the most idyllic request. I'm not asking you for dinner, I'm asking you to fight in a trial with someone you barely know." You explain.
"Well, asking you to dinner is my role, to be fair." He smirks.
"Yeah, I gathered that much... always dinner." You let out a giggle, you try your best to keep your nerves at bay.
"What's that supposed to mean?" His smirk widens, he missed this little banter you two have.
"You've always asked me to dine with you." You tell him, amused by his false offense, "never lunch, or even breakfast."
"Oh well, lunch can be arranged, but I have to make it clear that usually breakfast is a consequence of a well ended dinner, a whole night of strenuous, but pleasant, activities and a good... very good morning." He explains to you, watching you reaction closely before adding, "and, to be fully honest with you, my lady, the only way I can picture us having breakfast together would be if you were to use my face as your chair."
He got the reaction he wanted: your mouth open out of shock, wide eyes, fighting a shy smile. You're obviously surprised by his directness, though you know you shouldn't. You open your mouth to reply to him, play his own game, but nothing comes up, only a small chuckle.
"You're infuriating." You avert your eyes, but he uses his hand to gently bring your gaze back on him.
"So I've been told." He gently stroke your face with his thumb.
The way he's holding your face is the most comfort you have felt since you left your home. You force yourself away from him, leaving him missing the contact already, because you have to remember the reason you came to him in the first place.
"I... I'm sorry, but I'm here for your help, my Lord." You remind him, and yourself, he nods understanding.
"Of course. I will." He declares.
"You will?" You sigh, relief filling your whole body.
"Of course, I would never pass the chance to show off to a pretty lady." He wink and you playfully roll your eyes.
"I... I think we could have that breakfast then.." you hesitantly say.
"I don't want it to happen because you think you owe me, please." He wants it to be genuine. He did picture the time he'd be lucky enough to see that side of you, and it involved, always, a nice dinner, you telling him another one of your stories, he'd charm you, you'd tease him back only to end up kissing him over and over again. It never involved the circumstances to be out of duty.
"Lyonel, you'd be risking your life, and the royal house might resent yours for it... I..."
"You said my name." He giggles, victorious.
"What?"
"You called me by name." He repeats, "that's all the payment I need."
"I'm serious."
"So am I." He takes your hands, "you still have no clue on the things you make me feel, do you?"
"Whatever it is, I'm afraid it needs to be forgotten soon." You warn him as sorrow wraps around your heart like a heavy blanket.
"And I'm afraid it is not possible."
"This," you motion to the two of you, "this only happens in stories."
"Then let's make it one." He's confident, you can give him that.
"I don't see how."
"I do, don't worry." He smiles at you, and you're at loss for words again, or maybe you just want to believe him. You look at your hands in his, then up to his eyes and for a moment, a single, quick moment your gaze fall to his lips. He notices and leans in, slowly to give you time to step back or stop him, you don't want to do either one.
What breaks the moment is a guard barging in. Not one of Lyonel’s. One of the royal family.
"What now?" Lyonel demands, frustration clear in his tone.
"We're here for the girl, my Lord." One of them answers, "after that we'll leave you be."
The Laughing Storm stands dumbfounded, he looks at your just as confused expression, he notices how tense you got. He looks back at the guards once again, stepping in front of you.
"Why's that?"
"The prince demanded a guarantee the hedge knight wouldn't just run away."
"He would never do that!" You defend, immediately, coming our form behind the Baratheon lord.
"We're following orders." The guard states, tiredly, "we are to bring you to the castle."
"Absolutely not." Lyonel puts himself between you and the guards again.
"I'm sorry, my Lord, but the prince demands it."
"Fuck his demands!" Is Lyonel’s response and you have to put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
"It's alright," you whisper, you see no other way but comply. Surely you don't want to risk anything happening to Lyonel in the first place, and secondly you don't want to be dragged away, "I will be fine."
"Y/n..." he starts.
"I will be fine." You repeat, making him look into your eyes, "Once this is all over we'll finish this conversation."
He opens his mouth to convince you to let him help you with the guards, but your glare stops him.
"If you touch her, I will demand your heads." He warns the two guards, "and I'll have them."
"I'll see you soon." You force out a smile before following the guards outside, leaving Lyonel helpless in his tent, but determined as ever to participate in the trial.
--------------
The cell itself is not so bad, you admit you've seen worse. What makes it worse is the sense of dread in your veins. The sound of a door opening and closing doesn't help and when the one to your cellar reveals prince Aerion himself you're absolutely terrified.
"My guards spent a good amount of time looking for you." He tells you, tired as if he was the one walking around looking for you.
"I didn't know they were." You say, you force your body not to tremble. You've heard the stories about him, so being in a tiny space, alone with him is the last thing you would've wanted.
"I came here to offer you a deal." He's still by the door, but the way he's looking at you makes you feel crowded.
"I'll have to decline... my prince." You force out a curtsy.
"You will support all the accusations against that poor excuse of a knight and I will make you a lady." He tells you, ignoring completely your first response, "riches and a title to allow you an easier life. And..." he steps towards you and so you take a step back, "a place at Summerhall as well... a little closer."
"Closer?" You glare at him nearing more and more. The only response you get is him nodding and stepping right in front of you, "I'll have to decline, my prince." You repeat.
He suddenly grabs you by your throat, cutting off all your air. His face is mere inches from yours and you're trying everything to get his hand to let you go.
"I wanted to try, you know, being nice." His nose is now touching yours, "but I see you don't deserve it. I will tell you something: once I win this trial, you'll come with me and I'll see to your punishment without little brats interfering with it. Do you understand?" You keep struggle to push him away from you, he push you against the wall not loosening his hold on your neck, "do you understand?"
"Yes!" Your broken scream satisfies him enough for him to let go of you, only to grab your face so you face him directly, you stare into his eyes, "you're insane."
"There it is." He smirks, "that fire in your eyes. It will be so exciting to extinguish." He inspects your face closely and then forces a kiss on your lips. The first instinct you have is to bite him and luckily it works. He steps back, checking the damage with his own tongue and then, to your terror, he grins once again. "Oh yes... absolutely exciting."
He laughs and orders the guards to open the doors so he walks out, once you're alone again your legs give out and you try to get your breathing back to normal. The only thought keeping you from losing your mind is your hope that Dunk would find the champions he needs.
--------------
You're telling yourself a story to pass the time and also to contain your nerves. Pacing back and forth inside the small cell, you mutter the words to distract you when the cell opening again stills you, you don't want to turn around.
"What do you want now?" You can't stop your exasperation from coming out, you even brace yourself for an eventual hit that never arrives.
"I suppose my nephew payed you a visit." A different voice says and you turn around in an istant.
"Your Grace..." you breath out, lowering your head, ashamed of your first reaction, "I apologise..."
"No need." Prince Baelor waves you off, "I understand the effect he has on people, I don't blame you."
"What are you doing here, your grace?" You have to ask.
"Your friend," he starts, "is he a good man?"
"Yes."
"No hesitation." He comments, quite surprised, "why?"
"Ser Duncan is the kind of knight that inspires stories, my prince."
"Aegon did tell me you're a storyteller, I think that is enough expertise for me to believe you." He gives you a smile, "in your opinion, without consulting stories or legends... do you think he will win tomorrow?"
You take a moment to reply.
"Stories come from real life, they just add music to it." You say and prince Baelor chuckles, "he's not as skilled as other knights, that has to be said, but the gods favour the just, don't they?"
"Usually they do." He agrees, he steps closer to you and gently takes one of your hands in his, "thank you."
"I... you're welcome." You reply, a little confused by this whole interaction.
"I'll do my best to keep you away from Aerion if the gods won't assist your friend." He promises.
"Thank you..." you whisper, wanting to believe him desperately. He nods and lets your hand go to near the door before stopping.
"Aegon praised your skills in telling stories, I hope to witness them one day."
"I'll prepare a good one."
He smile again before leaving you once again.
The interaction gave you more hope, so you take a deep breath praying the gods to help your friend.
--------------
Dunk steps out to the jousting tilts and sees that other knights that came to take his side, glad Steffon kept his word. He searches for a glimpse of you, though he can't see you yet.
"Sers..." he decides to start, "I'm in your debt."
"The debt is Aerion's." Hardyng retorts referring to the killing of his horse, "and we mean to collect it."
"I heard your leg was broken."
"You heard true. My leg is broken. I cannot walk." The lord explains, "but so long as I can sit on a horse, I can fight."
"Ser Robyn would die the King's faithful servant." Rhysling steps in, "but when the crown goes against the gods, ser Robyn goes against the crown."
Then Lyonel's steps up to come closer to Dunk.
"I always knew you meant trouble."
"I cannot thank you enough." Dunk declares, "nor ser Steffon for bringing you."
Lyonel gives him a fully confused look.
"Who the fuck is ser Stevron?" He asks bluntly, "your friend found me. She asked me to help you, and, I suppose, when she got taken your boy found the rest."
"Taken?" Alarm ringing in Dunk's head.
"The guards said that cunt of a prince needed a guarantee you wouldn't flee before the trial." Lyonel grits out, still raging inside. "And hasn't been a trial of the Seven for a hundred years. I wasn't about to miss a chance to bloody up the Kingsguard in their pretty white gowns, especially not now. I'll make sure to take her back."
Finding this out now is definitely not something Dunk needed, but not knowing it would've been worse. Now he has another reason to prove himself, he won't let you pay for something he did.
--------------
To your surprise you got taken to see the trial, you were scared you'd have to wait, drowning in your dread until the verdict. Obviously a guard was pointed to watch you, in case you tried anything.
You lock eyes with Lyonel, he's been searching the crowd for any signs of you the moment people gathered for the trial. He nods his head, a small gesture to give you any kind of reassurance, in response to your anxious one. Which only intensifies as you stare at ser Steffon riding away from Dunk and to stand by Aerion's side.
"Cunt.." you mutter under your breath.
You wish you could be there with the rest of them, you have to watch as Raymun kneels before Duncan, you can only guess he asked him to knight him, that would make sense, this way he would only need one man more. Dunk, though, hesitates until Lyonel steps in.
All you can do is sit in the edge of the bench, leg bouncing nervously and picking your skin compulsively, and powerless you watch Dunk pleading the crowd for one more knight... just one more knight. It breaks your heart when he gets mocked for it, as if he were a jester and not a knight.
You look for ser Lyonel once again, finding him facing you already. You don't know what it is about him, but he does manage to ease your heart and your mind.
Your silent conversation is interrupted by Dunk final, angry call for a knight.
"Are there no true knights among you?"
A laud banging is what answer him, revealing prince Baelor on his horse riding towards him.
"I will take ser Duncan's side." He declares.
The crowd cheers loudly, some of the lords are stunned and speechless, and you let out a sigh of relief. You feel like you can breathe again, you feel hope again, and finally, you can see a light in the darkness.
I promise I'm almost done with the next chapter of "Tell me a story" I just got a terrible writer block and I had no clue how to move from a specific point, but I'm almost done I promise!!! I'm so sorry to make you all wait so much😭😭😭
Here we are! Thank you all for the support to this story, I am so glad you guys are liking it!🥺🥺
Let me know what you think about this new chapter, and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. Also my inbox is always open if anyone has any sort of questions about this fic❤️❤️
You're a light sleeper, always have been, so it's no surprise to you when Egg's soft steps wake you. You watch him take Thunder, one of Dunk's horses, with him, so you stand to follow him.
"Egg?" You whisper and he halts his walk, turning around, the look on his face shows clearly he didn't want to be noticed.
"I... uh..."
"Where are you taking Thunder?"
"I... I wanted to train... Y/n.." he tentatively utter out.
"Train?" You repeat.
"Yes, to be ready when sir Duncan will joust." He explains, standing straighter, puffing out his determination for you to see, you soften.
"Does he know?" You point to the tall Knight still asleep.
"No..."
"Should I tell him if he awake before I leave to the camp?" You offer, "or can I help you train?"
"You're kind, lady, but I should do it on my own." You admire this little man's tenacity, "but do tell him... I wouldn't want to find dogs hunting me upon my return."
You softly chuckle and with a nod of your head you let him go.
"Do be careful, Egg." You say, "and if you changed your mind, you know where to find me."
"Thank you, Y/n." He smiles and walks away.
You watch him go until you can't see him anymore, then go back to get some more rest before starting your day.
--------------
You're about to leave when movement catches your attention. Dunk is finally waking up, once he notices you he gives you a tired smile and slowly stands.
"Good day." You say, "how did you sleep?"
"Not bad." He nods, "you? I still think you should ask the puppeteers if they have a place for you. It's not dignified for a lady to sleep like... well, someone like me."
"I'm more than comfortable, Dunk, thank you for worrying about my wellbeing, but I promise I'm alright."
"You're too kind." He comments shaking his head.
"And yet some people called me selfish." You laugh dryly, remembering your uncle's words when you expressed your refusal to being sold, "oh! Before you start worrying and look for dogs, Egg went training with your horse. He didn't steal him."
"He.. what?"
"He wanted to train, be ready to be the perfect squire, I suppose." You smile, "don't be too harsh on him when he gets back, yeah?"
"I... alright."
"Thanks."
"How... how was your night? I mean... before coming back." He asks you, he came to care for you like a sister so he feels like it's his duty to check on you and... men around you.
"Lord Baratheon was a gentleman, he didn't hurt me," you make things clear immediately, knowing that is Dunk's main concern, "we laughed, I told him a story, it was nice."
"Do you like him?" He grins.
"He's a lord, Dunk, I'm... basically nobody." You inform him, hoping it'll be enough explanation.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Since when are you this cocky?" You glare at him, making him snort, "I'm off now, Tanselle is waiting for me, we still need to fix up the dragon a little bit."
"Have a nice day, Y/n." Dunk gives you a big smile, which you return.
"Stay out of trouble!" You shout walking away.
--------------
The chattering around you gives you a sense of home you thought you lost the moment you left your house, it also makes you feel very grateful for the puppeteers, helping them around isn't a bother, you don't ever feel tired.
You're helping some of them painting a few missing scales for the dragon, to ready it for tonight's performance, Tanselle sitting next to you, you feel her watching you from time to time.
"Ask away, please, you're making me feel anxious." You laugh, not able to concentrate with her examining you.
"Last night..." she starts, trailing off the implication with a look.
"What about it?" You chuckle.
"While you were performing, I notice lord Baratheon absolutely starstruck, so..." the implications get stronger, making you laugh again.
"Nothing happened, if that is what you're wondering." You tell her, "we talked and I told him a story."
"He seemed rather taken by you." She smiles.
"So?"
"What do you mean 'so'?" She fully turns towards you, "you didn't see the way he looked at you. Last night he would've gotten on his knees right here if you asked him."
"Doubtful." You focus your attention on the colors in front of you, "he's a lord, Tanselle, I'm no lady. Even if what you're saying is true, I don't see anything happening."
"I'm sure you could find a story where it does."
"There is, though that's exactly it: a story." You smile bitterly.
There's a pause before Tansele speaks again, her eyes following a familiar figure nearing them.
"Mh... I don't think he knows it, yet." She grins, earning a questioning look from you.
"What..."
"There you are!" The familiar ringing voice interrupts your question.
You turn around, gawking at Lyonel walking towards you.
"My Lord... what are you doing here?" You can't help the confusion lacing your tone.
"May I borrow your friend for a moment?" He asks Tanselle, very politely.
Your friend looks at you, grin widening.
"Of course, my Lord." She nods.
"Amazing!" He roars, watching you expectingly, "let's go, my lady."
You wipe your hands as you stand, sighing.
"I am no lady, I remind you." You tell him, "I'll be right back."
"Do not rush." Tanselle smiles victoriously at you, you glare at her.
"Come." Lyonel gently takes your hand loading you outside.
"Where are you kidnapping me to?" You ask with laugh.
"No kidnapping, not yet at least." He flashes you a wink as he lead you into his tent.
"What are we doing here?"
"I have something for you." He declares, letting your hand go to grab something, "here."
He hands you a brand new drawing book.
"Oh..." You're at loss for words.
"I noticed the other night yours was almost full." He explains, "so I thought to bring you a new one."
"You..."
Lyonel is pleased, but not in an arrogant way, he realised soon enough he loves making you smile, it warms his heart seeing how you shine.
"Do you like it? I can find a different one, or just buy something else, I mean it is no trouble, I could easily..."
"No," you cut him off, finding your voice again, "no, this is great... I mean..." you look up at him, he looks at you with an intensity that could makes your walls almost quiver, "thank you."
The way he's looking at you scares you, that fondness, that warmth only belong to your stories, not real life and especially not between a lord and someone like you.
"You're welcome." He smiles at you, completely unaware of the little battle in your head, "will you join me for dinner tonight?"
"Oh so you were trying to bribe me with this, weren't you?" You tease.
"Absolutely, I'll even add all the tools you need," he jokes, shaking his head, "but no... I just want to spend more time with you."
"My Lord..." you start, but he beats you to it.
"You're quite beautiful when you try to pretend you don't want the same." He grins, taking one step closer.
"I'm just being realistic, sir."
"Lyonel." He corrects, but you shake your head.
"I'm trying to be realistic." You repeat, trying to keep your stance.
"Don't." He softly says, "fuck realistic." You huff put a laugh, "you're the storyteller, you should know realistic is not binding."
"Yes, but it only works in stories. We are not in a story."
"Maybe not yet." There's the smile again, the one that makes your heart beat faster, that make you forget entire sentences, you sigh, and Lyonel’s expression turns victorious.
"Alright." You say, "I'll have dinner with you."
"Brilliant!" He exclaims, "I'll make sure to have those pastries you loved so much."
"That... would be nice." You admit quietly, "but I'm helping the puppeteers, so I..."
"After that then." Simple. Easy. He's not disappointed, he's not annoyed.
"Alright." You nod.
"I'll wait for you." He takes your hand in his and gently kisses the back of it, "my lady."
You roll your eyes, failing to hide the smile forming on your lips.
"I'm not going to say anything about it anymore." You shake your head, letting out a defeated chuckle.
"Good girl." He smirks, making you avert your widened eyes.
"I better go back." You quickly say, stepping back, "I... I still... uh... need to help... thanks again... I...bye."
He waves at you before you disappear behind the curtain of the tent, headed back to your colours and dragon scales, Lyonel watches you go, that pull he feels towards you only getting stronger. He knows he'll do anything to be with you.
--------------
You're about to give Tanselle the last piece of her costume when you see Egg making his way to the front of the audience to see the show properly. You notice Dunk is not with him, you head to him.
"Hey, you're here alone?" You ask him.
"Yes, Dunk is with Fossoway," he explains, "I didn't want to miss it, I told him I'd bring him the shield after."
"Alright." You nod, "if you need anything come find me, I'll be on the side."
"Of course," he nods, eager to see the performers.
You walk back to Tanselle, shaking your head with a smile on your face.
"Here." You hand the garment to her.
"Thank you."
"Have fun, Serwyn." You wink and step aside to let her walk into the scene.
As you watch her perform you can't help but think how she was born to do so, you can tell she's having fun and that's contagious the audience feels it as well.
The performance is going brilliantly as always, so you decide to look at the crowd and see their reaction when your eyes widen as they fall on Aerion Brightflame, and he does not look entertained to see the dragon puppet 'slain'.
"Shit..." you mutter.
You see him turning to the guards with him, ordering something you can guess as the guards start to destroy the tent and grabbing people. You immediately want to rush to Egg, but when your eyes scan the crowd for him you can't find him, you just hope he ran away. So you head towards Tanselle, instinctively pushing whoever was grabbing her only to realise it's the Prince you pushed.
You tell Tanselle to go and get out of there, you try yourself but said prince grabbed the collar of your dress, you watch him raising his fist to hit you straight in the face, you brace yourself for another, though you don't feel the pain, you fall to the ground. Looking up, you see Dunk throwing Aerion off of you, hitting him before he's stopped by the guards.
You feel a presence beside you.
"Are you alright?" Tanselle kneels by your side.
"Yes.." you nod, catching your breath not averting your eyes from Dunk being held with the prince in front of him.
"Why did you throw your life away for these whores?" It's his question, "they're scarcely worth it." Then nods his head specifically to Tanselle beside you, "she's a traitor. The dragon ought never lose. Nothing more to say?" When Dunk doesn't answer, he steps back, sniffling, "you've loosened one of my teeth. So, we'll start by breaking out all of yours."
"No!" You scream and stand to reach him, though this time the prince grabs you by your hair, then presses a small dagger to your throat.
"Sssh sshh." He whispers into your ear, forcing you to watch your friend struggle as four guards force him to kneel down and press his face against the small wooden stage.
"No! Don't touch him!" A small familiar voice screams and your heart breaks a little seeing Egg making his way through the crowd.
You feel Aerion slowly lowering the dagger, but he doesn’t release you.
"You stupid boy!" Dunk shouts, "hold your tongue or they'll hurt you." He warns him.
"No, they won't." Egg says confidently, "if they do, they'll answer to my father. Let go of him." He commands the guard, earning a very very confused look from you, "Wate, Yorkel, do as I say." And... they obey.
"You impudent little rat." Aerion adresses him, "what's happened to your hair?"
"I cut it off, brother. I didn't want to look like you." He bites back, "release my friend, she did nothing wrong to you."
Taking advantage of the uncertainty of the prince to push yourself off and away from him. You turn to properly look at Egg or, apparently, one of the missing sons of Prince Meakar, Aegon.
You wake earlier than you mean to, sleep slipping away under the weight of too many thoughts. It’s easy enough to blame the tourney, but a small part of you knows better. A certain lord lingers in your mind. You would never admit it aloud, certainly not to him, yet the memory of your brief exchange left behind a spark of anticipation you can’t quite shake.
With no hope of falling back asleep, you decide to make yourself useful and prepare breakfast for your tall friend, and, apparently, his new squire. You smile at the sight of the boy curled up near Dunk, recalling your first meeting at the inn before Ashford.
“Good morning, my lady,” comes a young voice from behind you.
“Good morning,” you reply with a gentle smile as he sits beside you. “No need for ‘lady’, Y/n will do just fine.”
“You work with the puppeteers, right?”
“I do… well, I help out where I can,” you say, glancing at him. After a brief pause, you add, “I’m glad to see you again.”
“are you?”
“I tried to convince Dunk to bring you along, since you seemed so eager to take part,” you admit. “So I’m glad you find your way back to us. You strike me as a clever boy.”
He smiles at that, clearly pleased.
“He told me you used to tell stories back in your village,” he says. You nod in confirmation. “Why did you leave?”
You take a quiet breath before answering. “I couldn't stay. After my father passes, my uncle had... plans for bringing more money into the family. Plans that didn't include me.” You shrug lightly, offering a faint, wistful smile. “So I left. I made my peace with it a long time ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” he says softly. “If it helps, I’m glad you’re here. You seem kind. A good person.”
“Thank you,” you reply, touched.
“I’m Egg,” he adds at last.
“Nice to meet you, Egg.” You hand him some food, which he accepts eagerly.
--------------
You're sewing back a part fo Tanselle's costume when sais girl comes to stand beside you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Marvellous job." She tells you.
"I'm just fixing it, not making it from scratch." You chuckle, shaking your head.
"And yet, one won't see the rip anymore after you're done." She gently nudges you, "you didn't tell us you're a storyteller."
"Was I supposed to?" You laugha again, "you already got stories to tell."
"We do, though there's no such thing as too many stories. So... uncle wanted to ask you to do a number today."
"What?"
"Can you sing?" She asks, not acknowledging your shock, "or play any instruments? We could arrange something if needed."
"Wait, wait, wait." You stop your work and turn fully towards her, "what?"
"We need more people working on the dragon puppet for tomorrow night, so for tonight's show we could need a filling..." she explains, hope in her eyes for you to accept.
"Isn't there the joust tonight?" You check.
"Yes, but after that we'd still have a chance for one number." She nods, "of course, you'll be paid more for it."
You shake your head at that, to dismiss it.
"There's no need, I..."
"We insist, it's fair."
"And so do I." You reply, just as stubbornly, "the first reason I'm helping you here is because I want to feel useful, that's it. Money is just a little bonus."
"You'll argue with my uncle about it then, I'll stop here." She laughs, "so, can you?"
"I... I think so."
"Do you have something in mind already?"
"It may depend on what kind of atmosphere you'd like." You specify, already searching in your mind for a good story to perform, "I can play something myself, no need to trouble the others."
"You're full of surprises." She smiles brightly, relieved more hands would be free to work on the big puppet, "do you know anything similar to a lullaby? It will be the last performance of the day so I'd keep any cheerful tone for another time."
You hum, thinking if you actually know something like that. You have... something. It's not a lullaby, but it's not as feisty as other songs you know.
"I... might have one, though it's an old song, not exactly a lullaby, but it can work" You chuckle, a bit nervous it might not be what they're looking for.
"It can work." She agrees with a nod, "thank you so much for doing this."
"It's not a problem, I'll just need a but of time to prepare it. I don't remember the song perfectly." You admit with a laugh.
"Of course, of course, thank you, really." She hugs you gently.
"Yes, yes, yes, you're welcome. Now please try this on so I can see if I need to fix it more." You jokingly push her off and hands her the part of the costume you were working on.
--------------
The show is a success, as always. You also spotted Egg during Tanselle's performance, and he excitedly waved at you.
You're wiping you hands clean, ready to go and eat something, checking Dunk talking, or trying to is the better expression, to Tanselle.
"Did she ask you?"
You turn your head to Tanselle's uncle walking towards you, hand behind his back to seem casual. You give him a knowing look, but smile nonetheless.
"She did, she did." You nod, not elaborating further on purpose.
He waits a moment before urging you.
"So? Will you?" He can't help the chuckle though.
"Yes, yes, I will." You say, "I told her I got a song that could fit in, nothing extravagant. Just me."
"Thank you so much for this, Y/n, we've been so lucky you came to us." He actually hugs you tighly, taking you by surprise before letting you go.
"It's not a problem, sir." You smile, "I'll see you later."
"Enjoy, kid." He nods and let you join your friends. Just in time to assist your friend attempting to make a compliment.
"You're not too tall. I mean, you're just right for..." he doesn't end the sentence, not knowing how to continue.
"For?" Tanselle asks.
"Puppets" luckily for Dunk, Egg is always ready with an answer.
"Yeah, puppets." Dunk chuckles, awkwardly.
"Oh, finally!" Egg enthusiastically greets you.
"Hello to you too." You laughs, "what's going on?" Yoy ask, a hint of a tease in your tone.
"Ser Duncan asked her to repaint his shield." The young boy explains to you, you send a smile to Tanselle.
"Oh you chose the right person to do so." You say, nudging the girl affectionately.
"Thanks." She smiles, a bit shyly.
"Yes.. then I'll... go." Dunk says as she starts to walk away only to be stopped by Tanselle.
"Wait. The shield." She reminds him.
"Yes, sorry."
You and Egg share a look as the Knight gives the shield to her, quietly laughing at the exchange, but soon follow him out.
--------------
"Was thay ill-handled?" Dunk asks out of nowhere.
"What?" You ask.
"The... the puppet girl."
"You mean Tanselle?" You chuckle, softening as you see how touched he is by the subject.
"It... it just... it didn't feel well-handled." He admits, with a heavy sigh.
"She is painting ypu shield." Egg points out.
"Yeah, for pay."
"She could've refused." You support Egg, "you didn't make her feel uncomfortable, if that is what you're worried about."
"You are both gigantic." Egg states, as if that alone were a declaration of love.
"Is that promising?"
"It's a... commonality."
It's clear that's not what Dunk was expecting, but accept it nonetheless, he's still nervous about it, obviously.
"Don't wrap your head before falling, Dunk." You tell him.
"I'm not... wrapping my head..." he gets defensive, making you chuckle.
"Sure, you're not." You grin and take a sip from your cup, as you do your eyes catch a glimpse of yellow, familiar glimpse of yellow.
You lower your cup to see Lyonel talking and walking around his own cup of wine in hand, and something tells you to go to him, you still owe him the end of the story, you think.
"Do you think I'll ever make a knight one day?"
Egg's question pulls you away from your pondering.
"Sure, why not? You're a likely lad."
"I'm a bit puny." Egg replies making you and Dunk chuckle.
"You'll grow." Dunk assures him and you nod, he has time to grow and train.
"Even for my age." Egg insists, "everyone's always told me so."
"Everyone's always told me I was stupid." Dunk says, to console the boy is your guess, so you wait for him to continue. Though he does not.
Egg looks at you, confused and expecting, you shrug not knowing what to tell him.
"And?" He then urges him.
"Mh?"
"What did you do when people said you were stupid, ser?" He asks, more earnestly.
"What business is that of yours?" Dunk inquires, almost offended by Egg's question. You snort as Egg look at you, completely exasperated, "my problems are my own."
"I think, my friend, he was expecting you to motivate him." You explain, plainly.
"Motivate him? What for? Grow?"
"Yes!" A voice interrupts our conversation, the attempt to one at least, "hedge knight, you." You look up to Lyonel pointing at Dunk, striding quickly towards him, he grabs Dunk's cup and throw it on the ground, "what is this piss froth? I..." his eyes find you, sitting close to Egg, "Hello, my lady." He send you a grin before shaking his head, remembering what he came here for, "I need muscle." He grabs Dunk's neck, "will you heed my call to war?"
"A tad dramatic, aren't we, my Lord?" You smirk.
"On the contrary." He winks, "c'mon!"
He gather other men with him, everyone getting ready for a round in the tug of war.
Once the start was declared everybody starts to pull from both sides, you're happy to watch, ready to enjoy the fall of one of the two teams. Each one of them cheering and urging the others to pull harder and harder. That's when you see the Baratheon lord leave the line, walking towards you.
"Aren't you supposed to be pulling?" You ask, not able to contain your laughing surprise.
"I had a thought." He states.
"And?" You try to make it fast so he would go back to the game.
"If my team win... you dine with me tonight." He declares.
"What?" You ask in disbelief.
"I wanted to let you know." He gives you a proud winning smirk before resuming his place leaving you stunned, to say the least.
Once the lord is back to his place his team manages to gain some advantage, Egg almost gets pulled into the mud, but avoids it by climbing the robe. Dunk is at the end, using his body weight as anchor while pulling as well. It's not long before they manage to win and make the opposite team fall onto the dirt. You cheer along the rest of the people, and join Egg and Dunk, the young boy hugs you screaming victoriously. Then you feel hands on your waist making you turn to face the Laughing Storm doing exactly that, laugh.
"Come to my tent tonight. No one will bother us, my lady." He instructs, you playfully roll your eyes and push little to make him lose his grip on you.
"Don't you have to attend tonight's joust, sir?" You raise your eyebrow questioning.
"Fuck, I forgot about that." He curses, making you laugh and he swears no sounds could ever compare in beauty with this, "after that then."
"I can't. I promised the people I work with to help them." You tell him.
"I'll pay them." He suggests.
"That's not going to help, my Lord, they need a performance to fill the time." You explain, regretting it the moment you see him eyes lighten in mischief.
"A performance?" He grins.
"I... yes." You sigh, "I'm helping them."
"What will you do? Sing... dance?" He asks, way too curious for you liking, suspecting he will want to attend.
"Uh..." you clear your throat nervously, "sing... just a song to end the evening, nothing big."
"Then, here's what we will do." He starts.
"You're relentless," you chuckle.
"And obnoxious." He adds, making you laugh again, "I'll attend this joust, fine, after I'll come to hear you sing and then..." His eyes on you darken as he admires you, "we'll have dessert in my tent."
You feel your face heat up, eyes immediately looking for anything else other than him.
"I'm... I'm not a prostitute, my Lord." You force out, "if you're looking for a good time I'll suggest..."
"You think our conversation aren't a good time?" He asks, "you wound me, sweet lady." He clutches the fabric on his chest above his heart.
"I'm simply keeping things clear." You raise your head high.
"So am I." He then, surprisingly, take your hand gently, "I found myself looking for you, hoping for another chance to speak with you. It's all I ask."
"Oh." You were not expecting it.
"Besides... I still want to know how the story ends."
"Then... I think I'll join you for dessert." You smile and Lyonel wishes he could stop time and look at you for eternity.
"The wait will be torture." He tells you as he backs away, he then blows you a kiss and gets pulled into other celebration and drinking.
You turn, shaking your head amused, and you find Egg and Dunk looking at you.
"What?"
"I think he likes you." Egg points out.
"Yeah..." Dunk nods.
"Mmh mh." You glare at them, "anyway... have you found where to buy a new armor?"
Dunk's smile gets wiped off and he lowers his eyes, like a child caught going something he shouldn't have.
"Not yet."
"Yeah, I figured.." you sigh, "ask for Steely Pate, I heard from the guys he's quite good."
"Thank you!"
"I don't know how affordable it could be, but if you need..."
"No, none of that." He immediately stops you, "your earnings are yours."
"Dunk..." you start with a sigh, but he shakes his head and turns around to walk away. You walk, or run seeing the length of your legs compare to his, behind him, Egg close behind.
--------------
You spent the rest of the day rehearsing in your head the song, you didn't realise how the little bubble of your old audience at the tavern was comforting until now. You're waiting for your cue and your hands are sweating.
Deep breaths, you remind yourself.
Everything is fine, you'll just have to do what you used to do back at your village. Nothing more, nothing less. It's not that different.
You watch Tanselle walking to you.
"Deep breaths." She encourages you, "ready?"
"Not one bit, but yes." You chuckle, she smiles at you before sending you out.
You take your place in the middle of the stage. Thankfully the crowd is a lot calmer than usual so the atmosphere is just right. People are waiting, but they're not demanding. They're simply waiting for one last performance to have a goodnight.
When you start singing, time stills, the crowd lets themselves be lulled to peacefulness.
Lyonel is there, not so you can see him, but he can, and if he wasn't already enamoured by you, he is now. The way your voice carries the story, not only with the words your speaking, but with the way the emotion are stated clear. He feels like he can see the story coming to life before his eyes.
By the end of it his breath is heavy with emotion, almost like a storm hitting him. He gets snapped put of it by the crowd cheering, he observes the room, realising he wasn't the only one affected by your performance.
He waits for the crowd to leave before approaching you.
You're talking to Tanselle when he nears.
"That was beautiful." She compliments you, "after a performance like that, my uncle will try everything to convince you to travel with us." She chuckles.
"I'm glad I didn't ruin anything tonight." You take a sip from a cup you got handed.
"Far from it." She smiles, her eyes catch a figure behind you, "you even got an admirer, I think."
You turn around, finding Lyonel there in front of you.
"Shall we?" He asks, holding his hand out.
You softly smile and take his hand, letting him lead you out and to his tent, where a small table has been set with definitely more that just dessert. You playfully glare at Lyonel who simply answers by shrugging innocently.
--------------
"That's not what happened!" You exclaim with a laugh, taking another bite out of one of the sweet fruits in front of you.
"That is exactly what happened!" Lyonel insists, "I caught that fish with my bare hand."
"On your first try." You're absolutely unconvinced.
"Maybe it was the second." He mutters, not losing his smile.
"Mh mh..." you eye him, still not fully believing him.
"Alright! The 16th... if not more."
"With one bare hand?"
"Both...?" He tries, but shakes his head defeated, "it took me all afternoon and several poles to catch one, tiny fish."
"Now that feels authentic." You laugh.
"You humble me, sweet lady." He giggles, "I should've known not to lie to a storyteller with your talent."
"It's just something I like to do." You immediately dismiss the compliment, "beside, it doesn't take a genius to figure you're one to embellish your quests."
"Oh no, you don't get to diminish that little thing you have inside you." He says and you look at him questioning, "that power you have, of telling story with so much care and emotion they come to life. Tonight I saw it. Everybody did."
You stare at him, trying to understand if he actually means the words he just said, you avert your eyes because he does.
"It's... uh... your words are kind, my Lord."
"Lyonel." He corrects you.
"You're a lord, I'm nobody. It's appropriate." You argue, making Lyonel cackling.
"Fuck what's appropriate." He declares, "I want to hear you say my name."
"Demanding." You comment.
"Only when I care about something." He gives you a genuine smile that takes you completely off guard.
"Did you really like the song?" You ask, more to change the subject than actually wanting to know his thoughts, though something in you cares.
"I adored it." He says, letting you get away witht the subject changing, so he'll just humour you, "which reminds me." He stands, grabbing two goblets of wine "you still have a story to finish."
He go sit on the very comfortable-looking rug, decorated with many pillows and cushions, he pats the space next to him.
"Alright." You sigh, joining him.
Once you're sat next to him he resume the position he had at the pavilion: he lies down so his head is in you lap.
"Please, go on." He tell you.
"Do you remember where we were?" You ask, or rather, challenge him.
"The musician decides to take his muse back." He promptly replies.
"Good job." You praise with a laugh, "alright," you clear your throat, "the musician decided to go and bring her back. So he travelled to the other world to find her and to plead with the old gods to let her go."
"They have to." Of course as your story continues, so does his commentary.
"They were not willing to do so." You tell him, making him frown, "a dead soul brought back from the other world would've put the balance of existence at risk."
"Oh fuck that!"
"The musician pleaded, begged on his knees, until one of them, taking pity on him, gives him one chance to convince them the only way he can... with music." Your hand, like the first time, find its way on Lyonel head, absentmindedly playing with his hair, "he sang, oh he sang! He sang about his love for his muse, about the happiness and bliss he was living with her, and he sang about the absolute void it was to lose her. His talent had the gods weep for him. They felt his pain and decided to grant him his prayer."
"Yes! I knew it!" Lyonel exclaims enthusiastic.
"On one condition..."
"What?"
"They can go back together, but he would have to walk in front of her and never turn around until they were both out." You watch him sit straight to look at you in the eyes, "one look and she'd be back down there."
"You're killing me here."
That makes you laugh, proud of how your story is affecting him.
"They started walking, the musician in front, guiding and finding the way out, the muse behind following him and hoping to get out of there." You sigh, knowing what's coming, "the musician after what felt like hours could see a first glimpse of light from our world. He got out, he couldn't wait and..."
"Oh no no, don't you dare."
"He turned around... right on time to see his love being pulled back down, he tried to reach out but... she wasn't there anymore." You observe his eyes glisten, not crying, but the story got to him, you can tell.
"And then?"
"And then the musician roamed the earth, never to make music again." You reply.
"I'm not accepting it." He states.
"It's the story." You defend with a laugh.
"And I'm not accepting this ending." He's stubborn, you gathered that much.
"What do you want me to do? Change the ending?" You ask, trying to hold back a giggle.
"Absolutely."
"How?"
"Well, first of all he doesn't turn around." He instructs, simply.
"But would completely erase the meaning of it all." You explains, "he turns around because he loves her."
"But he loses her." Stubborn.
"That's the tragedy." You smile, but upon seeing the disappointed look on him to elaborate further, "to love, deeply, is to turn around. The fact that he couldn't contain himself any longer and looked behind him is proof of how much he loved her."
"How?"
"He walked through the other world without knowing for certain if she was actually behind him, no sound, no way of knowing how she was doing, and imagine if the gods were playing a trick on him." You take a breath, leaning closer without realising it, "if you love someone you turn around to make sure they're there, not because you don't trust them, but simply you care that they are. It become second nature, to look behind you and reach a hand out. Love is something that changes your inner nature, it changes your instincts. If you love so deeply as the musician did, you'll look behind you."
There's pure admiration written on Lyonel’s face, the way you talked about love, the way you told the story, he feels completely taken by you. He smiles.
"You're so beautiful."
"Shut up." You roll your eyes, shyly looking away.
"I never meant anything more than I mean this now." He gently cup tour face to look at you properly, "may I kiss you, my lady?"
You let out a soft gasp at his question, you try to regain some sort of control over your emotion.
"One would think a lord like you doesn't need to ask." You tease.
"Oh, I do." He shamelessly looking at your lips, biting his own in anticipation, though sensing your uncertainty he looks up, "and, for as much as I'd love this, I won't lie on this part. I promise you're not forced to."
"Yeah?"
"Absolutely, I find kissing is better when both part are sure about it." He strokes your cheek with his thumb, "but something tells me that this won't be the last chance we'll get."
"I have to agree with you on that." You smile, feeling lightened, "but I think I need to head back now." You stand, letting his hand softly leave your face, already feeling cold from its absence.
"Do you have to?" He whines.
"Yes, my Lord." You smile, grabbing you cloak.
"Alright." He sighs, "but know that I'll miss you deeply."
"I'll keep it in my mind." You chuckle.
He stands and comes to help you put your cloak on.
"Can I walk you back?"
"I'll be fine," you assure him, walking to the opening of the tent, "thank you for tonight, I surprisingly had a wonderful time."
"I told you I'm full of surprises." He winks.
"Well, thank you, Lyonel." You smile before heading out, leaving the Laughing Storm completely stunned.
Summary: Reader is travelling with Dunk, she accompanies him to the tourney, where a certain storm can't contain himself once he sees you.
So, this is my first chapter for my Lyonel Baratheon fic. Let me know what you think, if you want other chapters, and if so, if you'd like to be tagged ❤️❤️❤️
Life on the road isn’t always easy, but you can't complain, nor you want to really. Starting from the company: Dunk is definitely a fortunate find. You still can't tell whether you found him or the other way around, either way you're glad.
That's how you found yourself in Ashford for the tournament.
As you waited for Dunk to sign and enter said tournament you managed to find an occupation of your own. You heard of puppeteers from Dorne and head for their tent in hope they'd need some more help.
You meet him again near the practice ground looking hopeless.
"What's wrong?" You ask once you're close enough.
"I'll need one of these knights to vouch for me to enter the tourney." He explains with a sigh.
"Why?"
"I'm not from a great house." He tells you, "the master of the games told me he is to turn down all minor landed knights."
"Fuck him..." you sigh as well, "what now?"
"I'll ask for sir Manfred of house Dondarrion to vouch for me. He surely knew sir Arlan." He's confident, for a moment, "though he's asleep now..."
He nods towards the Dondarrion pavilion, and you notice some prostitutes in front of it.
"Tired, I bet." You chuckle, then pat his shoulder reassuringly, "we'll find a way, my friend."
"I hope."
Your conversation is interrupted by the fence breaking, and someone shouting.
"Do not muck about with me, Raymun."
The man stands as his opponent crawl to get back on his feet. Once he does he attacks earning a good advantage for a short moment before the older man snatches the weapon and smacks him, making him fall again.
You and Dunk can't help the stares.
"What are you gawping at, you cunts?" The man comes striding towards you, you take a quick look at the squire, wanting to go and check on him though he motion to you he's alright, "that's a longsword you wear?"
"Yes, it is mine by right." Dunk answers.
"That's an odd thing to say. I'm sir Steffon Fossoway. Come try me." He answers with a challenge, you look at Dunk seeing his confusion, "as you see, me cousin here is not ripe yet."
"Than why are you out of breath, my Lord?" You can't help yourself. There's a moment of silence where the lord glares at you.
"Do it, sir." The younger man encourages your friend, "I may not be ripe, but my cousin's rotten to the core. Knock the seeds out of him."
You chuckle.
"Quiet!" He turns his attention back to Dunk, expecting an answer.
"I thank you, but I have matters to attend." He politely replies.
"What, matter of the hedge, I have no doubt." His joke is followed by other knights' laughters, then mutters of some insults you care not for.
The squire looks at you both and nods, following his cousin with reluctance.
"Charming..." you comment, already having enough of knights.
"Perhaps we should seek quiter accommodations." Dunk suggests, probably sharing your sentiment.
"Agreed."
--------------
You left Dunk on his own so he could bathe and make himself presentable before seeking out Ser Manfred again, while you made your way to the puppeteers to lend a hand with their preparations.
Behind the stage, you found yourself drawn into their work, helping to rig and guide the great dragon puppet, admiring how the painted scales catch the light as it moved. Tanselle, one of the performers, shared with you the tale they meant to tell that day, the legend of Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, and his perilous quest to slay a dragon.
The two of you fell easily into conversation, and before long a quick friendship had taken root. It was through her that you earned a place among them, if only for a little while.
--------------
When the show that night was done, you returned to the entrance and found Dunk waiting. His gaze had wandered back to Tanselle, fixed on her with a soft, distant look, dreamy, almost enchanted.
"I can introduce you, if you'd like." You nudges him once you're close enough, teasing tone on the ready.
"What?"
"I saw you staring at her." You say, following him outside, "and her staring back."
"I don't..." His reply is interrupted by a voice, familiar calling for him.
"Halfman! Halfman!" You turn seeing the Fossoway man catching up to you.
"Do I look like a half man to you?" Dunk asks, a little offended by the name.
"Aye!" He nods, confident, "hall man, half giant."
"It makes more sense, now, doesn't it?" You say out loud.
"Look, I'm sorry, I should not have urged you to try my cousin." He then apologises, "he'd have broken your hand or a knee, if he could, and taken your woman."
"She's not... I mean... she's not mine." Dunk shakes his head, nodding towards me.
"We're just traveling together." You specify.
"Oh my apologies, I..."
"No need for those." You smile, "I understand the confusion." You laugh, "nonetheless your cousin's capabilities of giving an heir to your house would've... lessened... if he tried anything. He's a cunt."
"He likes to batter men in the yard, you know, in case he meets them in the lists." He explains.
"He did not break you." Dunk says to him.
"I'm his blood." He sighs, almost scoffing, "though he is the senior branch of the apple tree, which he never ceases to remind me."
"Little people feel the need to belittle others, in order to feel big." You nudge him gently.
"Will you and your cousin ride in the tourney?" Dunk asks.
"He will." He replies, "I wish that I could, but I'm only a squire."
Dunk stops for a second and looks at him, impressed.
"Fight well for a squire." He compliments the Fossoway man, and you agree with a nod, he takes the compliment with a smile, proudly.
"You have the look of a challenger. Whose shield do you mean to strike?"
You can tell this question takes Dunk by surprise, he has no idea what to do, he's only pretending to, so he can make a name for himself. You always thought it was admirable.
"Makes no difference." He replies.
"That's what you're supposed to say." A hint of amusement graces his young face.
"Though it makes all the difference in the world." Dunk looks at you as he says so, looking for confirmation and assurance.
"You two hungry?" The boy asks.
"Always." Dunk laughs, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Sure." You shrug and chuckle.
Raymun lead you through the camp towards the Baratheon pavilion.
"Here." He motions.
"Really?" You're uncertain.
"Absolutely."
Dunk looks at you just as unsure, though he wants to trust the Fossoway kid and follows him. He leaves the cloak to a servant outside, while you keep yours on, Dunk give you a look.
"I have my drawing book in here." You explain, "I'm not leaving it."
He rolls his eyes, though a smile appears on his face.
The tent is absolutely what you would expect from a lord of a big house such as Baratheon. People eating and talking, music playing and even men playing fight. You're already looking for a place to sit and draw the view.
Raymun lead you to sit by a large table, among other people, he pour some wine into your cups as a thunderous laugh catches your attention. Thunderous is the perfect description since it's owner is none other than...
"Lyonel Baratheon." Raymun says, "the Laughing Storm, they call him."
"I thought he'd be bigger." Dunk comments, you chuckle.
"If you're looking for someone as big as you are, we'll have to look harder... and longer." You gently tell him and he smiles at you, he never minded when you'd joke about his height, because he knows you don't have ill intent. You both remember the first time you saw him, you weren't scared, not a bit, because you told him he had gentle eyes and you could sense kindness from him.
The Fossoway then leaves you, you and Dunk looking at each other in confusion, wondering where he went, until a loud voice gaines everyone's attention.
The Laughing Storm.
"I've had a profound thought, if anyone would care to listen." He declares and everyone mutes. "Four thousand years ago, our ancestors gathered in that big field outside, to blood each other with sticks and have a little bit of gay fun. And they say it was this country's first-ever joust. Well, I say..." he leans on the table and looks at his audience, seemingly losing his trail of thoughts, muttering something to the other lords behind him until he regains his meaning, "men could not have devised such a joy. So, who was it?" The question leaves everyone silent, looking at one another and waiting for him to say. Though he shrugs, "fuck it. A hundred gold to the man, beast, or god who sticks me best." He throws a bag of coin onto the table, "now, wat your birds so we can dance!"
And the food arrives. You look at Dunk's enthusiastic expression as he immediately grabs some, making you laugh.
--------------
As the dancing begins, you further yourself from the crowd and find a neutral spot to draw, where you're not in the way of anyone.
"Here." Dunk's kindness never fails as he presents himself with a pastry for you.
"Oh thank you!" You accept the sweet gladly, "what is it?"
"I'm not sure..." he replies awkwardly, "but it's good, and you haven't eaten anything before so..." he nod to the food in your hand.
You take a tentative bite and hum content.
"It is good indeed." You admit.
"See?" He smiles and turn to the crowd dancing and clapping.
"Go enjoy the feast, Dunk." You gently pat his back, "go, I'm alright here."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely." You nod, "I'm sure they have more pastries like this one." You wink at him.
He laughs and makes his way through the people in the pavilion.
You watch him go until he's well merged with the rest, then you but the pastry to the side for now and go back to your pencil.
--------------
You love this kind of settings: the music, the celebration, and people coming together.
It vaguely reminds you of home. Your home wasn't the best place to be, so you would sneak out to the local tavern and enjoy the serene atmosphere. You would participate sometimes, the owners let you stick around in exchange for some help around the place. You would clean, bring the orders out and also entertain the few kids that might have followed their parents. You usually would tell them stories of all sort, with the help of your drawings as well, the kids loved you. After a little while even some adults would linger to listen to your stories, you thought you had found your place. Until the sudden passing of your father changed everything: you uncle couldn't, nor wouldn't, care for you and he was ready to sell you to some brothel. After all you were old enough, plenty enough, if asked him. So you told your last story, said your goodbye and fled.
So, now, watching all these people having fun dancing and singing is really what you needed.
You then notice Dunk talking to the Laughing Storm himself, eyebrows furrowed in confusion unbeknownst to the fact that the Baratheon lord not only noticed Dunk, for obvious reason, but you as well.
"Do you like dancing?" He asks your tall friend after demanding the reason of his presence in his tent.
"Doesn't everybody?" Is Dunk's quick reply, that seems to satisfy the extravagant host.
"And your wife?"
"My... my what, sir?" Dunk coughs, taken aback once again by the question.
"The woman you gave the pastry to, isn't she your woman?" Lyonel sighs, as if he wasn't clear the first time.
"Oh!" Dunk turns to take a quick look at you sketching in your book, "no.. no, milord, she is not my woman. We simply travel together. Friends."
"Friends?" The Baratheon lord raises his eyebrows, his eyes now on you, "any possibility of something more?"
"Oh, no, no, sir." He replies shaking his head, awkwardly laughing, "Friends. Just this."
"Ah..." Lyonel smiles, "and does she like dancing?"
"I'm... I'm not sure, sir..." Dunk's confusion only deepens, but he won't dare question a Baratheon.
"Well," the lord slams his hands on the table, "let's dance and find out." He then winks and stands ready as ever to celebrate.
--------------
The dancing grows wilder by the minute, more voices rising in shouts and cheers, more hands clapping, more feet stomping hard enough that it feels like a miracle the ground doesn’t crack beneath you all.
You lift your gaze from the paper in your hands and take in the scene: everyone gathered together, laughing, spinning, moving as one. Your eyes catch on Dunk, awkward as ever, trying, and failing, to find a rhythm of his own. The sight pulls a smile from you, a quiet laugh slipping out.
Then another sound reaches you, louder. You turn, and there’s Lyonel, very clearly deep in his cups. Your attention fixes on him and doesn’t waver. He stands before Dunk and suddenly stomps straight onto his foot.
You like to think yourself well-cultured in the dances of the Seven Kingdoms, but this… this is new. Confusing, but undeniably amusing.
Dunk, for his part, can only dodge at first, stumbling out of the way of Lyonel’s heavy steps, until, by sheer misfortune, he lands one of his own on the lord’s foot. Lyonel’s reaction is pained, and Dunk’s eyes go wide as saucers. If you were any closer, you’re certain you’d hear his heart pounding loud enough to burst from his chest.
But the fear doesn’t last long. Lyonel straightens, then flashes him a wink, and just like that, the tension melts from Dunk’s shoulders. A moment later, they’re shoving each other, laughing like boys.
You find yourself clapping along with the others just as Dunk nearly stumbles into you.
“Come,” he says, breathless.
“What?”
“Come dance.” He’s grinning, hand already outstretched, unwavering.
“Are you drunk already?” you tease, laughing, but he doesn’t budge.
With a playful roll of your eyes, you set your book aside and take his hand. He’s far stronger than you, and it feels as though he nearly lifts you to your feet in one motion.
He pulls you toward the makeshift dance floor, spinning you into the rhythm of the crowd. You follow, letting yourself be carried along, and for once, you simply enjoy the celebration.
The movement sweeps you up faster than you expect, laughter slipping from your lips as you try to keep pace. A sudden turn throws you off balance, and you stumble straight into someone, but instead of falling, a firm hand catches you at the waist, steadying you before you can even think to panic. For a brief moment, you’re held there, breath caught, before your eyes find the mischievous ones of the Laughing Storm.
"Apologies, my Lord." Immediately you utter the apology, regaining your balance you wiggle out of his arms still holding you in place.
"Dance with me and I'll consider us even, my lady." He says before pulling you closer to him, chest to chest now, you can't contain the gasp escaping your lips at the contact. You also miss the sign the lord gives to have the music to slow down, changing the mood of the dancing completely. That, you notice.
You put your hands on his forearms for more balance as you look at him, stunned.
"My Lord..."
"Good evening." He brightly smiles at you, you notice some mischief behind his eyes.
"Good evening." You politely reply, "I think it right to specify that I am no lady, my Lord, and more importantly to specify, I am no whore."
He's taken aback by your words, but it only affects him for a second before his smirk in back.
"I didn't mean to offend you, my lady."
"You didn't, but again, I am no lady, sir." You politely smile, you let him sway you in his arms for a little before gently pushing on his arms, "my feet hurt, I should sit for a moment. Excuse me."
He lets you go, against the voice in his heart to keep you close. He watches you walking back to your previous seat and pick back up your drawing book.
When he feels a tall presence behind him he sighs.
"Have I offended her, you think?" He asks the hedge knight.
"Nah... if you did, you'd be on the ground." Dunk replies with ease, "or worse."
"Worse?" Lyonel is even more intrigued now, "oh I like her."
He keeps his eyes on you, the music picks up again, more vivacious than before, you force yourself not to look up. You can feel a pair of eyes set on you, unwavering, you don't want to give him the satisfaction. Though you did get to look at him properly and your pencil moves almost automatically on the paper to print the image in your mind.
--------------
You're nursing a cup of wine as you keep fixing your drawings when you notice movement from the corner of your eyes. You look up to see Dunk rapidly walking out the pavilion, you furrow your eyebrows confused and you're ready to stand and follow him, though a sudden presence beside you stop you.
You look to your side, noticing the antlers on the crown in the person's hand, and then it's owner. It's actual owner, Lyonel Baratheon.
"I didn't startle you, did I?" He asks, leaning back and looking at you.
"Not in the slightest, my Lord." You reply, confident.
"I figured." He says, "you do look like someone hard to scare." Then his eyes look down at your lap, at the drawing book you're covering, "what is that?"
"A drawing book, my Lord." You reply simply.
"I meant what you're drawing, my lady." He leans closer.
"Again, I am no lady." You remind him, he scoffs a laugh at that, it's not mocking, it's genuine almost as if you did tell him a joke.
"You're right, you're more beautiful than that." He gives you a wink before returning his attention to your book, "so... what art are you hiding there?"
"Nothing..."
You don't get to finish your sentence because Lyonel snatches the book from you lap and once his eyes are set on the page his grin only grows wider and prouder.
"Ah!" He exclaims, absolutely basking in the thought of having your attention, "I see I also caught your eyes."
"I simply tend to draw people I see." You defend yourself, trying to cover how you got absolutely caught.
"Aah..." he amuses you, you know he doesn't believe you, "so... if I were to flick through these pages I'll see other portraits, won't I?"
"Yes," you nod, "so, if you don't want to hurt your ego I'd suggest you not to." You pretend to be thoughtful and caring for him, almost expecting him to stand and walk away. Instead, the Laughing Storm smiles.
You don't know how to interpret the way he's staring at you.
Lyonel, on the other hand, is absolutely entertained. He's loving the way you're openly not giving in. He does love a challenge.
"So, tell me." He nudges you, "what brings you here? You're not the tall knight's wife, you say you're no lady... so?"
"I'm just traveling with Dunk." You shrug, nothing more to it.
"Yes, but why?"
"We're friends and we travel together."
"How long have you two been friends for?"
You give him a look, slowly getting amused by his questioning.
"A few weeks."
He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"And before that?"
"What's with these questions, my Lord?" You chuckle. Something stirs in Lyonel after hearing your soft laugh.
"I'm curious by nature, I'm afraid... my lady." With his reply comes another nudge, playful to which you answer with a, just as playful, roll of your eyes.
"I simply couldn't stay in my village any longer so... I left." You tell him, "then I found my friend on the way."
"On the way to where?"
"Anywhere." You states, you simply needed to get away, the destination wasn't important.
"What were you running from?" Such question put so seriously takes you off guard.
"Unfortunately telling stories wasn't enough to maintain my family's life... my uncle had an idea in mind to fix it..." you look at him directly, "I didn't like it."
He nods, agreeing with you even though he doesn't know the details. He's very set on knowing everything he can about you, but he understands, even in his drunken state, not to push such button, not tonight.
"That's a fine temper you have, my lady." He stare into your eyes so intensely you can't tell whether or not the reason is the wine in his body or... something else, "you told stories? Ie that what you used to do?"
"Uh... yes," you avert your eyes at last, "I used to tell them at the local pub, mostly to entertain the kids, then more people wanted to listen as well so that became... my job, if you could call it that." You explain, feeling a slight pain in your heart at the thought of the people who came to listen to your stories. Lyonel noticed, so he keeps the question as light as he can.
"What kind of stories?"
"Oh..." you start to think back, "just... whatever came to mind and whatever I could remember."
"Would you tell me one?"
"Well..." you chuckle nervously, "it is late, my Lord, and sir Dunk is.. "
"Quite fine on his own." He finishes for you, earning another roll of your eyes, "he's big enough to take care of himself. Now, c'mon... tell me a story."
"He might be fine on his own, though it is late." You try to take your book back, he's surprisingly quick in moving it out of your reach, you huff, "would you give it back?"
"For a story, I'd be glad to." The Laughing Storm makes his name worthy of its meaning.
"Has anyone ever told you you're infuriating?"
"More people than you might think." He winks, "now, please, my lady, let me be witness to your skills as storyteller."
Lyonel hugs your book to his chest, crossing his arms over it securing it, and then he moves so he can lay his head on your lap, earning a gasped laugh from you.
"Oh gods..." you shake your head, and the lord just looks at you from his place in your lap, he finds himself admiring you, feeling a pull towards you he can't ignore, nor he want to.
"Go on," he closes his eyes, content, waiting for you to start.
"Fine.." you think of a story to tell him, so many you know, so many you told, and then you settle for one of your favourites, "long long time ago, before the gods we know came to this earth there were... other gods, meddling and watching how humans walked these lands. Among those humans there was a couple: a musician and his muse. They were in love, so in love that this love turned this story into a tragedy."
"No..." he breathes the comment out instinctively, "love can't bring tragedy."
"And yet... some people aren't lucky." You sadly smile.
"Go on, go on." He urges, eyes never leaving your face and, specifically, your eyes which are searching in your mind for the details of the story.
"Children are more patient than you," you chuckle, "anyway... he had a special talent, the gods themselves used to praise him for it. His music could stop storms, and bring good weather back... if he managed to find the right notes."
"Some people might say he'd be useful in the Stormlands." He snorts.
"I bet he'd be." You lean back a little, starting to feel relaxed again, "all he wanted was to protect his muse, give her the best life he knew she deserved. Though, all she cared about was being with him, loving each other for as long as they were allowed. They got married, and it was the celebration worthy of a god, people dancing, music loud enough to reach the stars."
"Now that is something I'm familiar with." You feel his chest roaring with laughter.
"Not love, my Lord?" You tease.
"I haven't been so lucky," he considers you, "yet..." he pauses for a second, waiting for a reaction, "but please, go on."
"As you wish, my Lord," you absentmindedly play with his hair, "the celebration went on all night, never running out of wine and food. The atmosphere was lovely, calm, the kind of atmosphere one perceives at the end of a wonderful night. But contentment didn't last long. The muse got bitten by a venomous snake and death took her before the musician could even say his farewell."
"No..." he sits up straight, to look at you properly, "what...?"
"I told you, love sometimes means tragedy." You remind him, actually loving his reaction to your story, that's one of the reason you loved telling stories at the pub, "and it's not even the worse part."
"The worse... isn't it over?" He asks.
"Not yet, my Lord."
"What are you waiting for then?" He demands, and you smile, absolutely amused, "go on."
"Calm down, my Lord." You tell him, "of course, the musician was devastated, his heart had broken into thousands and thousands of small pieces. He neither ate, slept... nor played. Until he thought to just... go and take her back."
"Yes!" He almost shouts, bumping his fist into the air, "c'mon, c'mon, go on!"
"Well... he then..."
"My Lord?" Someone calles his attention.
"Not now." His eyes unwavering, hanging on your every word.
"I'm afraid, it is important... words from Storm's End." The guards awkwardly explains.
"At this hour?!"
"Well..."
"I better get going anyway, my Lord," you stand, making Lyonel pout like a child, "it is late after all."
You make your way out of the pavilion when a hand wraps around your wrist. Gentle, careful. You turn to meet Lyonel's eyes looking down at you.
"We're not done, yet." He promises.
"I didn't think so." You assure him. He lets you go and you leave the pavilion trying to contain a laugh as you listen to him complaining to the guard about the timing.
--------------
You walk at the hedge, where Dunk set camp, slowly to enjoy the calm of the night. Tou look up at the sky, searching for constellation you know and some that you can't name yet when you catch a glimpse at a shooting star. The sight brings hope into your heart, for you and your friend that this tourney might bring good things to the both of you.
You're waving Ellie goodbye as she rides away in a carriage. Lady Danbury arranged for her to get the best cures, and along with it, an actual education.
"She'll be alright." Benedict appears beside you, hugging you comfortingly with one arm.
"I know, I know." You wipe away the tears on your face, even though new ones quickly replace them, "I... I'm just nervous. I've been taking care of Ellie since she was born, not being with her now seems... wrong."
"It's for her." He caresses your side gently, still minding your healing back, "a better doctor and cures will open doors on more opportunities for her. Lady Danbury told me she also arranged for a governess to teach her."
"I know, that's the only thing keeping me from running and be with her." You let out a bitter laugh and lean your head on Benedict's shoulder.
"That and the fact that the doctor told you to rest if you want to heal properly, right?" His playful and warning tone makes you chuckle.
"Absolutely."
"Mmh mmh," he looks at you unconvinced, but let's you get away with it, "you have to heal quickly, the Queen can't contain herself from organising a ball to celebrate."
"She's probably doing it as we speak actually." You nudge him, "I'm doomed."
"No, you're not." He smiles.
"Yes, I am. I have no clue on how to behave at a ball, all eyes will be on me, everyone will be judging me, I'll make a fool of myself..."
"Stop, stop, stop." He gets in front of you, taking your hands, "none of that will happen. First of all, lady Danbury, my mother, Kate and Anthony, Franscesca even, and me will help you, and therefore you won't be alone in this." He underline his statement with a kiss on your hand, "you won't make a fool of yourself."
"But everyone will be judging me and talking..." you sigh, noticing him not referring to the gossiping ton.
"They don't matter." He firmly says, "you've been through enough to know some hungry-for-gossip people aren't important."
"I don't care what they think about me, I..."
"Of course you don't," he shakes his head, smiling, already knowing the actual problem behind your fear of being under scrutiny from the ton, "my family survived worst gossips, I assure you."
"Worse than associating yourselves to a prostitute?" You ask both as a challenge and in surprise.
"You'd be shocked." He laughs.
"Oh you have to tell me everything now." You step closer.
"Well..."
"Benedict Bridgerton!"
You two step back from each other so quickly you'd bet no one would even suspect you were having a conversation, unfortunately Violet Bridgerton knows better.
"Mother!" Benedict forces a smile on his face as he greets his mother.
"My lady." You, on the other hand, smile embarrassed.
"I understand you two are still getting used to Y/n's new status and... rules, but at least try, will you?" Violet gently scolds you, still wearing a warm smile that comforts you.
"Apologies, my lady." You say averting your eyes from her.
"Sorry, mother." Benedict still smiles smugly, "now that you're here, mother, could I talk to you about... that thing?"
He motion with his eyes to you, silently signaling to his mother the subject he'd like to discuss with her.
"Oh!" Violet nods, "of course, dear. We'll let Lady Danbury and Y/n on their own chores for the day."
"Is everything alright?" You sense they're hiding something.
"Nothing important, my love." He kisses your hand, like a gentleman would, "I'll see you at the ball tomorrow?"
"I don't have much of a choice, the Queen had it organised for me." You chuckle nervously and Benedict noticing, as he always does, makes you loom up at him.
"Everything will be alright." He firmly states, "we'll all be there with you, even Eloise."
"Oh... wow, your family does like me then." You joke to ease your nerves.
"Absolutely, they like you more than they like me." He smiles cheekily.
"I'll keep that in mind." You let out a big sigh, still fighting the anxiety in your veins.
"Are you sure you don't want me with you tomorrow morning? For the trial?"
"I am... I need to do it myself." You nod.
"Everything will be alright, my dear, they will pay for what happened to you." Violet confidently states.
"I agree with her, you know." Benedict nudges you, "and, well, when you can face that a ball would be kids play."
"Oh no, a ball is ten times more terrifying." You shake your head, but wear a smile, nervous, but still a smile.
Benedict looks at you, he wishes he could just sweep you off your feet and run away with you, instead...
"Mother... could you look away for just a second, please?" He sweetly smiles at him mother, who playfully rolls her eyes and turns her back to you. Benedict immediately leans down and connects your lips together, the kiss is rushed for obvious reasons, though the love in it is still quite tangible.
"You're a menace." You whisper to him, "I'm a respectable lady now... or I'm supposed to be." You chuckle and he just melt, finally hearing your soft laugh.
"I'll always do my best to avoid such a thing, my love." He winks and joins his mother, Violet glares at her son, and then smiles at you bidding you goodbye.
You watch them go, then you take one last glance at the road Ellie's carriage disappear in and head inside to find Lady Danbury.
--------------
"Ah, my dear." Lady Danbury greets you in the drawing room with some tea ready, "how are you feeling?"
"Like I'm breaking a promise." You admit, you sit down and look down at the cup on the table.
"You're not." She tells you, and you look at her not entirely convinced, "you're keeping it. Ellie will have exactly what she needs and what she deserves. You checked everything before letting her go." She gives you a knowing look, "you were very adamant in doing so."
"I... I promised her mother to keep her safe, and now..."
"She is safe." She finishes your sentence, "and you know in your heart she is." She stands and gently put a hand on your shoulder, "and you deserve to feel safe as well."
"Are you going to be there?" You ask, fidgeting with your hands.
"I want to look them in the eyes, I want to see what kind of creatures tried to break a Milligan's spirit." She smirks, determined and compelling, "and failed."
You smile, her words making your heart lighter, and a sudden urge appears in your chest.
"How... how were my parents?" The question was burning you since you got your identity confirmed, yet the courage to ask failed to present itself until now.
Lady Danbury’s features soften, she sits back down with you, forgetting whatever she needed to do in the first place. This is more important.
"Oh, my sweet girl, they were a delight." She smiles, nostalgia filling her entirely, "they were the definition of kindness, of adventure and love. I knew them before you were born, when they were young and ready to discover the world." You can see her eyes glisten with memories, "but, oh... when you were born... I don't think I haven’t seen anyone as joyful as they were." You listen to her, eager to learn as much as possible about your parents, "they organised a ball as soon as your mother recovered. It was marvellous. Of course you were fast asleep by the time the ball ended, but they never left you to the maids. Not once. Your mother danced with you in her arms, your father watched, completely in love with the two of you. The next day he painted and painted like a man possessed, he wanted to capture that memory to perfection."
"He painted?" You ask, amazed, realising where your knowledge of art came from.
"Oh yes, and so did your mother." Lady Danbury nods, proud, "a match made in heaven if you asked me."
"Do you know how they met?"
"You mother's family was in London for a little vacation, they're from Italy actually..."
"Italy?" You gasp.
"Indeed." She smiles, enjoying how you're piercing together everything, "and they told me they were in the same gallery eager to find the same painting. When they found the painting, they found each other." You try to picture the moment their eyes met, the moment they knew they were the one for the other, "of course, your mother's parents didn't approve at first, they didn't want to leave their daughter. Eventually they realised she was in good hands." She looks at you for a moment, "you're her exact images, my dear, though the nose and the hair are your father's."
"Really?" You chuckle, "I always liked my nose."
"So did he." Agatha laughs softly, "a bit vain, your father, but he has the biggest heart you could've found." Her eyes turn grave, she takes your hands in hers, resentment and sorrow is what she is feeling right now looking at her friends' daughter, "I can't begin to express how sorry I am. Your life was ripped away from you, they took it away with no consideration of the pain they caused, and I... I'm deeply sorry."
You stare at her, it's clear how close she was with your parents and it warms your heart, it makes you feel less lost.
"I'm back." You tell her, "I just hope I'll remember someday. Hearing you now, talking about them is both a blessing and a curse. I'm thankful you're telling me about them, I really am, and at the same time it breaks my heart because I... I can't remember them yet."
"You will." It's final, it's a statement, "they were both strong-willed people, I am confident you are the same. You will remember."
"Thank you, lady Danbury, thank you."
"Come, dear one, we have to prepare for tomorrow." She winks and stands, "busy, busy day. I tried to change the Queen’s mind about the day but... she didn't listen."
"It's quite alright. Two terrifying events in one day... perfect." You laugh, following her through the hallways.
--------------
The air outside the courthouse never felt lighter. You. You never felt lighter.
"Y/n!"
You turn to see Celeste running to you, you immediately open your arms to hug her.
"Celeste!" You can't believe it.
"You did amazingly in there." She praises you once she pulls away from the hug, "they got what they deserved, at last."
"How did you know?" You ask, a sense of dread creeping inside you, "no one was supposed to know..."
"Oh, uh... Lady Danbury sent for me." She explains, simply.
"I thought you might need a friend." The very same woman walks to the two of you, "I'm glad you could attend."
"My lady." Celeste's curtsy comes immediately, rushed not to seem disrespectful, "thank you, for letting me come."
"This new lady needs help... a governess, more likely, somebody to help her around the house." Lady Danbury gives you a knowing look before smirking.
"Really?" You gasp, holding Celeste's hand in yours, "I mean... if you're interested in the position... I understand it won't..."
"I'd be honoured!" She hugs you again, "oh, my friend... daughter of a Baron!"
"I'm still trying to get used to it, Cel, I have no clue what I'm doing." You admit with a laugh.
"You're doing the best you can, and that, my dear, is absolutely enough." Lady Danbury states, "now, we should get you home and get you ready for the ball."
"Oh... right..."
"How exciting!" Celeste can't contain her excitement, "you'll be radiant, I just know that."
"You'll see her as well, a governess also helps her lady det dressed."
"Absolutely, my lady." She nods vigorously, squeezing your hand, "all will be fine. Especially now that they'll be behind bars."
"She's right, you are safe now... miss Milligan." The smile lady Danbury gives you is full of pride and reassurance. The simple act of calling you by your family's name feels like someone cradles your heart with so much care, you almost sense your parents beside you.
"Thank you, Agatha." You smile, happy tears in your eyes and newfound confidence.
The thought of the ball is still terrifying, but you also know that you won't be alone, both physically and spiritually.
--------------
Kate is by the refreshments table watching ladies and lord dancing with Anthony by her side. She can't wait to see you and ask you about the trial, mostly because she wants to check how you're feeling now that those monsters are locked away.
"She'll be here any minute now, breath, my love." Anthony murmurs quietly.
"I know, I just hope she's doing fine."
"Benedict said she stood her ground in the courthouse, he said she never stuttered, not once." Anthony explains.
"He went then?" She asks, knowing you asked him not to.
"Yes, I think he simply wanted to be there in case something bad happened." The viscount shrugs.
The music softly gets to a stop, the dancing does the same, all heads turning to the big staircase. There you are.
You are forcing yourself to keep your hands composed, to not fidget. You look down, not even hearing the butler announcing you, you're looking for familiar faces. One specifically, though you can't find Benedict's, not yet. You did catch Kate's and Anthony's faces, which eases your nerves slightly. You also see the queen sitting by the upper end of the ballroom Lady Danbury’s standing cloae to her, she looks at you, you think she's trying to give you the courage to actually descend the stairs so, you have no choice but make yourself move and walk down said stairs. Everybody's staring, squinting, you can see the thoughts and judgements behind their eyes. People moved our of your way to let you pass, though now you feel cornered.
"Everybody is staring." Kate's heart cracks looking at you trying to put up a brave face against the ton's scrutiny.
Anthony looks around, the protectiveness towards you resurfacing, he looks around for a moment, looking for his brother, not seeing him anywhere.
"Excuse me." He says to Kate before making his way towards you.
Kate watches her husband determined expression, knowing his intentions exactly and lets out a sigh of relief.
You see Anthony walk towards you with the easiness of someone who knows exactly what they're doing while you're gasping.
He does a slight curtsy before offering his hand to you.
"May I have the first dance, miss Milligan?" He asks you, gently, respectful.
You return the curtsy and hesitation stops you, but his expression radiates comfort so you accept his hand. He take you to the centre of the ballroom, waiting patiently for the music to start again.
The queen nods her head and the music starts again.
"Thank you." You whisper, breathing again.
"We told you, you're not alone anymore." He states.
"And still... I'm thankful." You reply, "though... uh... wouldn't this make people talk? You're married and I'm... a former prostitute."
"You could be dancing with the queen herself and people would still dare have stupid thoughts about it." He explains, gently guiding you in the dance, you did learn some moves, though your nerves are playing tricks on you, "just keep breathing, miss Milligan, you've been through worse."
"You're right." You smile, you take a glance around you, "where... where's Benedict?" A sudden fear crawls its way to your heart.
"Breath, my lady, he's simply late." He reassures you, "there was a pressing matters that needed his attention. He'll be here soon."
"I mean... I'd understand is he didn't want anything to do with me anymore."
"My brother has never being more focus in his life than he was about being with you." He chuckles, not making fun of your fear, just remembering his brother's determination. Then you see his eyes looking past you, and a smirk appears on his face, "I think we summoned him, my lady."
You instinctively turn around, Benedict is by the stairs, eyes gawking at you. He's never seen anything nearly as beautiful, the urge of sketching this very moment is almost enough to make him run home to his drawing tools, but the urge to be with you is stronger. The music ends and after thanking Anthony you walk to your Ben.
"Y/n..." he has no words, too enchanted by you.
"You're here." You need to contain yourself to not wrap your arms around you to seek his comfort.
"Of course, I am!" He laughs, "I apologise for the delay, but I needed to fins something."
"Is everything alright?" You ask, fearing something bad happened.
"More than alright." He smiles, then her takes your hand, "would you grant me a moment?"
"Oh... of course."
He gently lead you to the balcony, people around you stares and yet you don't care anymore.
Once you're, almost, alone Benedict looks at you. Simply. He admires you, not only your beauty, he's admiring your strength, your kindness and your passion. He's admiring everything that made him fall in love with you.
He takes your hands, both of your hands and gently strokes your knuckles with his thumbs.
"You're so beautiful." He says, you can't help averting your eyes, feeling shy under his stare, "when I met you I knew you were going to be important for me. I couldn't know how, exactly, but I felt it. I felt it at every touch, at every look, especially at every moment you tried to push me away to save me because you never want to be a burden. You make your own existence more difficult if it meant avoiding boring others with your preoccupations. But that's all I want! I want you to burden me with everything that you are, because to me that's bliss, not burden. Ask me to do anything and I'll do it. Ask me to pass you the biscuits at breakfast, ask me to lift something for you, ask me to bring you your coat, ask me to open the door for you. Ask me anything... except one. Don't ever ask me to love you, because that I will do on instinct, naturally. I'll love you more and more each day without you having to say a single syllable about it. I love you. I loved you before I even knew your name, I loved you when you were Y/n, still unaware of your origin, and I love you now, Y/n Milligan. So..." His eyes are filled with tears ready to run down his cheek, and your completely broke, wetting your cheeks, "so... uh... would you grant me the biggest honour of my life and... let me become your husband?"
You're at loss for words, you stare at him, his words healing something inside you, something you've been fighting your whole life... or better, since you can remember.
You don't say anything, you kiss him, not caring at all about eyes watching you.
"I love you, so much, Ben." You tell him, "I... it's a yes, it's definitely a yes."
He kisses you, and you feel him slipping something on your finger, you loom down at the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen.
"It's perfect." He says, admiring your hand.
"Is this the pressing matter you had to attend to?"
"Absolutely, mother didn't remember where it was so... we had to look for it." He explains with that cheeky smile of his, "again, I apologise for not being here sooner."
"You're here now." You reassure him, "and thank you for being there today, at the courthouse."
"You saw me?" He widens his eyes, surprised he's been caught.
"I caught a glimpse of you."
"I... I'm sorry... I know you didn't want me there, but I needed to be there. If anything happened, and you needed me and I wasn't... I couldn't live with it."
"I know. I was hoping you'd be there anyway, actually." You smile, grateful for his presence.
"I'll always be there for you." He kisses you, "my love."
Epilogue
You're nervous.
You stare at the building in front of you.
Milligan's estate.
"Alright... alright... alright..." you mutter, though your feet don't move.
"I'm here, we'll enter once you're ready." Benedict holds your hand, squeezing it.
You tried to spend the honeymoon without thinking about this moment. By your father's will the estate belongs to you, all of it, so it was a matter of days before you had to confront it.
"It's... huge." You comment, voice shaking slightly.
"So many rooms to... paint in..." he nudges you, you catch the innuendo and nudge him back.
"I guess you're right." You force out a laugh.
"It's the first step to regaining your life, my love, and you're not alone, especially not here." He puts himself before you, making you avert your eyes from the estate to him, "we are together, and we are safe."
He kisses your hand, you take a deep breath and walk the stairs to the entrance.
Lady Danbury made sure to have everything arranged, furniture and clean rooms, ready for your arrival, and for the rest of your life.
The first thing you notice is the absolute insane amount of paintings in the entrance, paintings of all sort of subject: animals, landscape, flowers, rooms...
As you walk around the house, exploring each room with the care of someone who's trying to remember where a lost item might be, you arrive at a big room. A lot bigger than its purpose, some people might say.
Inside there were canvases, white ones, easels, cupboards full of supplies. Colours of all sort, paintbrushes of all sizes and shapes.
"Wow..." you breath, taking in the whole essence of the room.
"Lady Danbury told me they didn't touch anything, they only kept it clean all this time." Benedict tells you.
"It's like I can see them here." You say in a broken voice, "painting together. Happy."
"I'm sure they were, my love." Benedict comes up behind you, hugging you from behind, "and so will we."
"So will we." You agree, turning around in his arms to kiss him, he chases after you when you pull away slightly, you grin at that.
"Don't you start, my sweet girl..." he playfully warns.
Your grin only widens, gently slipping away from his arms and slowly making your way to the door.
"Start... what?" You feign innocence.
"You're hurting me, you know that?" He tells you, playing as well, "I hope you know the pain you're causing me."
"Oh no..." you exaggerate a pout before winking at him and sprint out of the room.
Benedict shakes his head, bursting out laughing. It doesn’t take much before he's running after you, ready to catch you.
Sleep doesn't come easily, at all. Your back prevents you from laying as you'd like, forcing an uncomfortable position you've been struggling with for the past... 2 hours, maybe. You sigh defeated, carefully you push yourself up and get out of bed. You're not sure on what you could actually do at this time of night, definitely not walking around the house, so you just sit by the window, a small sketchbook Benedict left you.
You hear the door slowly,attentively opening, you look and see Benedict's head peaking inside, eyes immediately going for the bed before noticing your form by the window.
"Can't sleep?" He whispers, closing the door behind him.
"Unfortunately not." You give him a half smile, "should I gather by you peaking inside my room that neither can you?"
"No." He sits close to you, "is your back troubling you?"
"No, no," you shake your head, "I mean, I can't sleep much since I can't lay on my back, but it doesn't hurt... I'm sort of... full of thoughts."
"Are you worried about what Lady Danbury would say tomorrow?"
"Yes, but I think what's occupying my mind the most is if, and it's still a big if, if I'm the baron's daughter, it will mean I am someone's daughter." You say, than shake your head, "I know, I know that logically I am someone's daughter... but I will be, for real... it doesn’t make sense, I know."
"No, it does make sense." Benedict assures you, softly smiling at you.
"It's just... I think I could find out a lot, by simply knowing where I come from." You pick nervously at your hands.
"I never thought about this, I never had to live my life without knowing who my parents are, but I know I am who I am, thanks to them."
You smile at him, never been more glad of his presence.
"I used to think that whoever my parents were they simply left me to die somewhere." You sadly confess, Benedict eyes glisten slightly hearts breaking at the thought of you convincing yourself that you were abandoned, "but now... if those people were actually my parents, and they haven't given up up until the end... it means I wasn't a mistake or a burden." You hold back tears at this happy thought, "though... if they're not..."
"Let me stop you right here." Benedict gently holds your cheek with his hand, "my love, you're no burden, you're no mistake. Regardless of who your parents were. Do you understand me?"
"Benedict, I'm trying to be logical, I was found..."
"That's what they told you." Benedict's tone is firm, "I wouldn't consider them trustworthy people. Would you?"
"I wouldn't, Ben, but logically... if that what happened, why was I there? Why has nobody ever come looking for me?"
"Logically." He mimicks you with a grin, "logically, lots of things could've happened."
You shake your head, amused, you look into his eyes falling in love with him once again.
"If the Baron is my father... oh those poor people, " you sadly sigh, you move a hand to your chest, heart feeling heavy for the couple, "I can't even imagine what they must've gone through."
"You know that if you are their child, then Clarissa and her brother kidnapped you." He carefully tells you, afraid to burden you with the information.
"I never thought they were good people, you're not destroy my idyllic view of them, don't fret." You joke.
"We'll have to charge them." He says, "well, you will."
You take a deep breath. For the first time, the thought of such consequences hit you like a brick. You'll probably have to get through everything over and over, without the certainty of anyone believing you.
"Love..." he gets closer to you, "you're safe. Whatever happens, you have people defending you. You and Ellie. Even Celeste if she needed."
Your heart fills with warmth, you know you will need time before actually believing him, too used to be on guard all the time, but the determination in his eyes, in the way he holds your hand is slowly cracking that shell.
"Benedict..."
"No, I'm not having it, I meant what I said I-"
You kiss him to shut him up, and also to make him understand you believe him. He melts immediately, returning the kiss like a man who's being denied water for days. You break the kiss first, both of you leaning on your foreheads.
"I was about to say thank you." You grin, pecking his lips, you feel him chasing your lips instinctively.
"I'm glad I didn't let you finish." He smirks, leaning back to show you his cheeky smile.
"I'm sure you are." You shake your head, but kiss him regardless.
"Mmh" He hums, contempt, "the only thing preventing me from throwing you on that bed is your injured back."
"And the fact that your family is in the house." You add.
"Oh yes... that too." He pretends to think.
"Terrible."
"Keep calling me that, and you'll see." He leans to kiss you but you lean away, avoiding his lips.
"Is that a threat, Mr Bridgerton?"
"More like a promise." He leans in again, you chuckle, letting him kiss you once again. "We better try and rest, you above all. Tomorrow is going to be intense."
You breath in, nodding and standing up.
"You are right." You say, accepting his helping hand to the bed, "the sooner I fall asleep, the sooner I wake up and the truth will find us."
"Couldn't have said it better, my lady." He kisses your hand, "do you need help getting into bed?"
"Just... would you lay the blanket on me once I lay down? It's difficult to do so." You ask.
"Your wish is my command." He's happy your letting him help and not just brush his worries off like before.
He waits patiently for you to lay on your stomach, as comfortable as the position allows, then gently lays the light blanket on you. He leans in to leave a kiss on your head and head for the door.
"Goodnight, Ben." You say.
"Goodnight, my love."
--------------
"Am I really presentable?" You ask in a whisper to Francesca as she sits next to you at breakfast.
You two grew close during your time at the Bridgerton's house, which is not a lot, but the bond grew so naturally it felt like months.
"I promise, you're beautiful." She replies, she notices your evading eyes and you fidgeting hands, something she recognises instantly, "Lady Danbury is really not that intimidating."
"Yes? Then why your other siblings basically flew once they knew she was coming here?" You ask.
"Well..." she isn't sure how to answer, not wanting to lie to you. She too feels a little scared while in lady Danbury's presence.
"There's is nothing to worry about, my dear." Violet joins the conversation, "Lady Danbury does have a way of seeing straight through one, which can feel rather… scary at first. But I assure you, her intentions are always kinder than her tone suggests."
You nod, still tense, believing Violet's words, but you're still mot able to shake the nerves off of you.
"But... am I-?"
"More than presentable, my sweet girl." She anticipates your question, with a smile.
You nod once again, calming yourself by taking long and deep breath.
"Good morning." Benedict walks in, smiling like a child on his birthday.
"Good, Benedict." Violet motions him to join them at the table, "please, help us calm her down. I fear the more she bounces her legs she'll poke the floor."
Benedict looks at you properly. Your head down, hands rubbing together, leg bouncing.
"My love." He comes to sit next to you, taking your hands in his. "Nothing bad is going to happen."
"It's easy for you to say that." You roll your eyes.
Everyone knows you're not annoyed, Benedict more than the rest.
"Eat something." He says, soft voice pleading, "have some tea, at least."
"If I put anything in my body right now, I'd probably be sick." You whisper to him.
"It's all in your head, I promise." He moves your hands to the teacup in front of you, "just a sip for me, please?"
You glare at him, but lift the cup to you lips to take a small sip. He looks at you expecting.
"I'm nervous." You tell him.
"I know, just remember that I'm with you."
"Yes..." you let out a sigh, nerves slowly leaving you body, tension loosening, until...
“Lady Danbury, my lady.”
The footman’s announcement barely precedes her entrance. She sweeps into the room with effortless authority, Kate and Anthony close behind.
“shit…” you murmur under your breath, rising at once with the rest of the Bridgertons.
“Lady Danbury,” Violet greets warmly, taking her friend’s hands. They exchange knowing smiles.
“My dear Lady Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury replies, before her gaze scan the room with practiced precision. “Ah, my Lady Stirling. I see you have spared your husband the ordeal of an early visit.”
“He will join us once he concludes some pressing matters,” Franscesca answers.
Lady Danbury inclines her head, satisfied.
“Mr. Bridgerton.”
You swear Benedict straightens an inch taller.
“Awake at such an hour? I am astonished.”
“Important matters require my full attention,” he replies, his gaze flickering, only briefly, toward you. And of course, she notices.
Lady Danbury’s eyes follow the movement and settle on you at last. The room seems to still. You forget how to breathe under the weight of her scrutiny.
“Lady Danbury,” Kate interjects gently, though the older woman does not look away from you, “we believe she may be Baron Milligan’s daughter. You are the only one who can confirm it.”
Silence.
Lady Danbury goes utterly still, her sharp gaze softening only as recognition begins to dawn. It is as though she is peeling back layers, memory by memory, searching for something long lost... until she finds it.
“Those eyes…” she murmurs. Her voice falters, just slightly, though a smile touches her lips. “The same spark.” You blink, uncertain, your heart racing as she presses a hand briefly to her chest, steadying herself against a wave of memory. “Come here, child. Let me see you properly.”
After a small nudge from Benedict, you step forward and place your hand in hers. She studies you without hesitation, your eyes, their color, their shape… and whatever it is she alone seems to recognize.
“We were told of two birthmarks,” Anthony begins. “She is willing to...”
“There will be no need,” Lady Danbury cuts in firmly, taking both your hands in hers. Her smile deepens, unmistakably certain now. “She is her parents’ daughter in every regard.”
A quiet, involuntary sob escapes her, one of relief, one that had been held for almost a decade.
“My dear, sweet child…”
“I… I don’t…” You falter, words failing you entirely.
“You are certain?” Anthony presses.
“I do not deal in uncertainty,” she replies crisply. “I have no doubt whatsoever.”
You glance at Benedict. He is not triumphant like the others, only quietly, deeply glad. Not for your title, but for you.
“She remembers nothing,” he says.
Something in Lady Danbury’s expression fractures.
“Nothing?” she asks.
You shake your head, your throat tightening.
“I’m sorry…” you whisper, lowering your gaze.
“Lift your chin,” she says at once, her tone firm but not unkind. “Strength is seldom born of ease, and I suspect you possess it in abundance. Your mother certainly did, she never allowed inconvenience to dictate her spirit.”
“Inconvenience?” you echo faintly. “Memory loss hardly feels like one.”
“No,” she concedes, a glint of approval in her eyes. “And yet, here you stand.”
“I was rather compelled to stand here,” you admit, attempting a weak smile. “It is difficult to refuse this family.”
“Not for Milligan blood,” she returns smoothly, with the faintest hint of a smirk. “Now, tell me everything.”
You freeze.
She notices immediately.
“It is not… a pleasant story,” you manage.
Lady Danbury glances toward the others, and though she says nothing, the command is unmistakable.
Benedict hesitates. You give him a small nod. He relents, offering you a reassuring smile before leaving.
“Sit,” Lady Danbury instructs once the room is empty, taking a seat herself. She waits until you do the same.
You try to hide the slight wince as you lower yourself, but her eyes sharpen.
“What is it?”
“What were you told about me?” you ask carefully.
“I prefer truth unfiltered,” she replies. “Begin.”
So you do.
From the moment Clarissa found you… to the work… the punishments… Ellie… and finally Benedict, how he found you, and how he took you away.
You do not look at her once.
“I understand,” you say quietly when you finish, “if you no longer wish to help me.”
A pause.
“Why would I not?”
You let out a shaky breath. “Because society values appearances above all else. And I…” You swallow. “I am compromised. Likely beyond repair. Even if I am a baron’s daughter, no one will believe it anyway.”
Lady Danbury hums, almost amused.
You glance up.
She is smiling.
“You have your mother’s strength,” she says, taking your hand. “Though regrettably, you have inherited your father’s tendency toward pessimistic conclusions.”
She rises, drawing you gently to your feet.
“A late baron’s word may hold little weight,” she continues. “But the Queen’s...”
“The Queen?” you blurt, then immediately compose yourself. “I'm sorry, but the Queen?”
“She knew your parents well,” Lady Danbury says simply. “And no one questions her.”
“They will still talk,” you insist. “And if any harm comes to this family because of me...”
“This family has endured far worse,” she cuts in. “They will survive gossip.”
“I cannot meet the Queen.”
“You can,” she replies, immovable. “And you will.” You open your mouth, but she continues, “And you shall come to live with me. It is entirely improper for you to remain under the same roof as the gentleman courting you.”
“I...”
“I will make arrangements for little Ellie as well.”
You still.
“Truly?”
“Of course,” she says, arching a brow. “You gave your word to care for her, did you not?” You nod. “Then it is settled.”
--------------
You're waiting patiently by the window, leg bouncing nervously.
Not very lady-like, lady Danbury would tell you since you've been staying in her house... palace... mansion... you don't even know how to call such recidence, you thought the Bridgerton's house was big...
"Mr Bridgerton went to fetch your little niece, my dear, she will be alright." Lady Danbury appears from behind you, startling you.
"I'm just... nervous." You admit, eyes never leaving the road, "Ellie has never been out, and definitely not in a carriage."
You feel Agatha considering you, and a veil of sadness, and even helplessness, lay on her gaze.
"I feel like I haven't taken into consideration your condition, dear." She says.
You tense, fear creeps up from your back to your neck, freezing you. Eyes filling with tears you try to hold back, expecting her to withdraw her help.
Your condition: your fertility problems.
"What of it, my lady?" You don't let your voice break.
"I'm afraid I haven't been very clear about one thing." You feel her walking closer, almost by your side, but still leaving you some privacy, "people will talk, people will call you names behind your back, they'll look you with disgust, pity and even mockery."
"I know."
"The thing I haven't been clear about is that I won't let you lower your head in front of them." She stands beside you now, you look at her both relieved and shocked, "those same people wouldn't endure a quarter of what you had to before begging it to stop. So, you enter the room, hold your chin up and show them what strength actually means."
Your tears run freely, not from fear, nor shame. You instinctively wrap your arms around her, grateful like you've never been in your life. She is taken aback, that's for sure, but she lets you get away with it this time, secretly enjoying how you're starting to feel safe again.
"Thank you... I... I mean it," you pull back to compose yourself again.
"I'm letting you get away with this," she gives you a warning look, though a little smile betrays her, "I don't mean the hug, but the 'thank you'. I made a promise to your parents, your father especially, I promised to see you found and well. I do have to apologise for my delay..." you shake your head, wanting to tell her she has nothing to be blamed for, but she doesn't let you even open your mouth, "let me. Let me apologise for not being able to find you sooner."
You see her eyes glisten, she can't helo the guilt in her heart, knowing she did all she could nonetheless, but there's something else: the silent, patient rage of making the real guilty ones pay.
"I... I forgive you, Agatha." You say, smiling, and relief invades both you and lady Danbury.
"Thank you, my dear." She gives your hand a strong squeeze, "the right people will pay."
It's a warning and a promise you won't dare question. You just nod.
--------------
"Is this going to be my room?" Ellie's weak voice asks, hand holding yours still nervous at the size of her new place.
"If you like it." You tell her.
"We'll... we won't be sleeping close anymore?" She wonders, and your heart sink a little by the worry in her tone.
"I... well... if you want we..." you start, but Lady Danbury beats you to it.
"She'll be right next door, ready if you need her," she says, reassuring her as best as she could, "though a strong girl like you, I feel, won't need her aunt pestering her anymore."
That draws a laugh from Ellie and a playful scoff from you. Ellie feels less nervous, less scared and that fixes your heart.
Benedict follows you, he simply observes how you are with her. He never got to properly see the two of you interact. The very few times he went by your side small apartment Ellie was too sick to even stand. Benedict catches your eyes looking at him, a silent gratitude fills the space between you two.
"Are you really going to meet the Queen?" Ellie draws your attention back on her, but wth that another wave of nerves climb your body, scratching your back and sides.
"She will." Benedict says, "and it will be a real nice and relaxing encounter." He says it to convince you.
"Relaxing is... a word." You mutter out, forcing a smile as Ellie watches you.
"You have nothing to fear, my dear girl, I prepared her and she is undoubtedly eager to meet you." Lady Danbury informs you.
"To test me, more likely."
"You heard her, you have nothing to fear." Benedict nudges your elbow, to ground you, comfort you as well.
You sigh and when the small hand squeezes yours you look down at Ellie, then get on your knees to her level when she doesn't yet speak.
"We're safe now, right?" She asks in a whisper.
"Oh... oh but of course, Ellie." You hug her to you, "you're safe, we could afford the right medicine and you won't have to feel cold again."
"I mean from the bad people hurting you."
You pull back and look at her, taken aback. You always thought you've been careful in hiding your pain from her.
"You raised her," Lady Danbury says, amused more than she'd care to admit, "you shouldn't be surprised she noticed."
You put a hand on the little girl's cheek, gently caressesing her face with your thumb.
"We are safe from them as well." You tell her, "I promise." You look at Benedict, "we're not alone anymore."
Benedict smiles. You're slowly breaking the walls around you, slowly letting people in and letting them help you and this couldn't make him more joyful.
--------------
The palace is... huge. You really can't think of any other word. Beautiful, absolutely, but huge is absolutely the first thing you thought.
Regal furniture, regal colours, regal pavements, regal walls... regal everything. Gold everywhere, everything is polished to the millimeter.
Everything is so much you start to feel your throat tightening. You're more than glad you're not alone. Not only Lady Danbury is with you, obviously, but Violet, Benedict, Anthony and Kate came along. You think to support your story in front of the queen, but it's actually to prevent you from dying out of fear.
You reach the doors to the Queen’s drawing room just as they are opened from within.
“I shall go first and announce you,” Lady Danbury says , her tone brisk but not unkind. “It will afford you a moment to remember how to breathe.”
Before you can answer, she is gone leaving you alone with the Bridgertons.
Benedict is at your side in an instant.
“Look at me,” he murmurs. You do, though you cannot hide the fear in your eyes. His expression softens. “It will be all right. You have nothing to fear.”
“He’s right,” adds , his voice steady, authoritative. “We are merely presenting the truth. Be yourself.”
A hollow laugh escapes you.
“Myself is a prostitute from the edge of town, my lord.” The words are sharper than intended, and regret follows at once. “I... pardon me, I did not mean...”
“My dear, come here.” Violet gently takes your hand, guiding you toward the window. “Look outside.” You obey, though uncertain. The Queen’s gardens stretch before you, perfect and serene. “Beautiful, is it not?” she asks softly.
“It is…”
“Then breathe,” she instructs, demonstrating herself. You follow, slow and deliberate, until your chest no longer feels so tight. “Her Majesty may appear… particular,” she continues with a knowing smile, “but her heart is generous. She will not condemn you for a life you did not choose.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
“I do not believe it,” she replies warmly. “I know it.” She squeezes your hand. “You endured, and more than that, you saved another. That is what she will see.”
“Thank you… Violet,” you whisper.
Across the room, Benedict watches the exchange, something resolute settling in his gaze. The ease with which you fit among them only strengthens his certainty, he has never wished more fervently to make you part of his life.
The doors open once more.
Lady Danbury returns, her sharp eyes finding yours immediately.
“Come, my dear.”
You draw strength from Violet’s smile, from Anthony’s nod, from Kate’s reassuring glance, and from Benedict, who mouths, 'I am here'.
At last, your feet move.
There she sits: Queen Charlotte, resplendent and formidable, her ladies in waiting arranged behind her like a white canvas. The room itself seems to hold its breath.
Lady Danbury leads you forward until you stand before the Queen. Her gaze sweeps over you, precise and piercing.
You are suddenly aware of everything, your hands, your posture, the tremor in your legs. Should you speak? Should you wait?
Before you decide, the Queen rises.
“Come closer.” You obey at once, eyes lowered. “Look at me, girl.”You hesitate, then lift your gaze.She inhales sharply, her expression shifting. “You.”
“Eyes do not deceive, Your Majesty,” Lady Danbury remarks, satisfaction evident.
“Indeed they do not.” The Queen does not look away. “My dear child…” She cups your face, and your breath nearly fails you. “We shall hold a ball in your honour.”
You gasp, overwhelmed.
“Your Majesty,” Lady Danbury interjects smoothly, “Lady Y/N is still recovering. Perhaps a short delay would be wise.”
“Recovering?” The Queen frowns. “From what, precisely?”
“An unfortunate incident, Your Grace,” Violet answers carefully.
“Oh?” The Queen’s attention sharpens. “And what incident might that be?”
“I…” The words falter.
“I require the truth,” she declares. “Who will give it?”
Benedict steps forward, shoulders squared. “She was attacked, Your Grace.”
“Attacked?”
“By those who took her,” Lady Danbury clarifies. “Those who forced her into that life.”
Silence falls. The Queen studies you, something fierce and sympathetic awakening in her gaze. Then, turning slightly.
“Brimsley. Clear the room. I need to see.”
“Your Majesty...” Lady Danbury begins, but stops at a single look.
You glance at Benedict as he steps beside you.
“You need not do this,” he murmurs.
You almost laugh at that, this is the Queen’s command. Still, his concern steadies you.
“It is all right,” you say quietly. Then, to the Queen: “Your Majesty… it is not a pleasant sight.”
“I shall be the judge of that.”
You nod.
Kate and Violet come to your side, their hands gentle as they loosen your gown just enough.
“I apologise,” you whisper.
For a moment, there is only silence.
Then, cold, resolute.
“I will have their names. Immediately.”
You hastily cover yourself, turning back to her. “Your Majesty?”
“You heard me.” A thin, satisfied smile curves her lips. “Provide the names and addresses to Brimsley, and they will trouble you no more.”
“We shall, Your Grace,” Benedict answers, unable to hide the fierce relief, and triumph, in his voice.
I promise I'm working on the next chapters for my Benedict fic!
I'm sorry, I've been babysitting my nephew for two weeks, and I haven't had time to work on them. I am thinking about how the story should go, but I haven't had time to actually write it.
I'm also thinking about the Lyonel Baratheon fic, I promise you!
The throbbing is what wakes you, then the memories comes all at once. You jerk up, holding yourself on your still weak arms, but your back is still sore and burning so the slight stretch is enough to make you whimper.
"Try to not move too much," you recognise Kate's voice, you lift your face to see her sitting on a chair by your side of the bed, "how are you feeling?"
"I'm sorry..." you breath a weak reply, ignoring her question, "I'll get out of here soon, I don't want to cause any more trouble."
"Trouble?" Kate furrows her eyebrows in confusion, she opens and closes her mouth not sure what to say "Sweetheart, you're not causing trouble."
You sigh, glancing around you noticing some blood got on the, once clean, sheets.
"The sheets..."
"Can be cleaned." She smiles at you.
"My lady..." you start, ready to argue and offer to either clean the sheets or pay for a replacement.
"Kate would suffice." She gently corrects you.
You force yourself up, still half-laying, but at least now you can look at the viscountess properly.
"I can't stay here." You tell her.
"Why not?" She asks, genuinely perplexed.
"I have to get back, I-"
"Good luck convincing Benedict of that." Kate laughs, then sighs, gently leaning towards you, "you're not a prisoner here, we're not going to force you to stay. But, may I ask you a question?" You nod, "why would you go back there?"
"I need the money, my lady." You reply, simple and powerless.
"After tonight whatever happens... you'll have help." Kate takes your hand, holding it, "I promised to get you out of there, did I not?"
You watch her, confusion is the only thing other than pain that you can feel right now. Why would a viscountess care?
"Forgive me... Why do you care so much?" The question slips out before you can overthink it.
"Because I can do something to help you, I actually can, you're a good person, Y/n, you don't deserve to be treated like this." Kate explains, her tone leaves no room for argument, though you are itching to do so but miss the words. "I'll send for some tea and something to eat, something tells me it's been a while since your last meal."
You're not used to such kindness, especially from someone like her, you can only nod.
"Thank you." You say before she can disappear out of the room, "fuck..." you mutter as you tru to sit up straight, your scars stretching a little, just enough to take away your breath for a second.
Suddenly the thought of Ellie barges into your mind and anxiety invades your senses. You curse once more, the growing pain muffles the surrounding so much that you don't notice the door opening.
"What do you think you're doing?" Benedict put the small trail with the tea in the small table before rushing to you, stopping you from trying to get off the bed.
"Ben..." you try, but his own strength and your temporary weakness keep you on the soft mattress.
"No, I won't hear anything about you leaving, alright?" He says, firmly, but not forceful, "Ellie is alright. Celeste is with her and a doctor went to see her."
Your eyes widen, and Benedict's close after realising what his mouth let slip.
"What? I can't afford a doctor, Benedict..."
"But I can!" He cuts you off, "Y/n... I know, I know you can take care of yourself, but you don't have to do it on your own."
You stare at him, undecided whether or not to kiss him or slap him. You look him in the eyes properly, seeing how wet and red they are and your feature softens.
"I just don't want to be a burden, Benedict." You choke out, "look at the mess I made," you point at the blood on the sheet beside you, "Kate is set on helping me and lord knows what she's doing for me. I don't deserve this, I don't."
"Stop it." He pleads, eyes filling with fresh tears, "that is the furtherest thing from the truth." He takes your hand in his, holding it in fear of you disappearing at any second, "listen to me, you deserve so much, so so much. What you've being enduring all these years... no one deserve that. Let alone someone with a heart like yours." He smiles through his own tears, moving a hand to wipe some of yours you didn't notice.
"Ben..." you mumble, shaking your head but leaning on his hand still on your face.
"There's something I need to tell you," he comes closer, but he stops himself, "but you have to eat first."
He pulls away from you and grab the small trail for you. You look down at the tea and small sandwiches beside it.
"Thank you." You smile, taking a sip of tea and enjoying the warmth and sweetness invading your mouth, "what do you need to tell me?"
"I have no idea how to start this," he chuckles nervously.
"How about from the start?" You softly grin as you softly bite into a sandwich, moaning at the taste of it, "oh... this is good."
"I'll send the compliment to the kitchen." He smiles brightly.
"Please do." You take a big bite this time.
"I will." With a laugh he sits closer, he takes a deep breath, "Kate had some thoughts..."
"Is that such alarming occurrence?" You tease.
"She saw a painting I did of you and she thinks you might be Baron Milligan's child."
You stare at him, sandwich halfway to your mouth. Benedict watches you closely, waiting for your reaction. Meanwhile you're going through different experiences.
Is he mocking you?
Is he tricking you?
It can't be possible.
"What?"
"She saw the birthmarks on you and she remembered something about his child who was kidnapped twelve years ago." He explains.
"That's why she wanted to check my back..." you realise out loud.
"Everything else matches the description. Your hair, your eyes... everything."
"And she is sure about it?" You're sceptical, a lot.
"She feels it in her heart that it's true." Benedict replies with and easy and hopeful smile on his face.
"What if I'm not?" You dare to ask.
"We'll find another way." He shrugs.
"Benedict, I don't want anything that would involve trouble for you or your family." You states, unmoving.
"Do not worry about it," he tells you and upon seeing how you're starting to shake your head and open your mouth to argue he adds, "everyone already loves you. You're not alone anymore, nor is Ellie."
"They... already?" You blink at him.
"Our arrival last night caused a little curiosity from my siblings, we had no choice but to explain the situation, we were surrounded!" He's quick to defend himself, "Even poor Francesca this morning, when she come visiting, had to listen to Hyacinth rambling about it." Benedict shakes his head with a laugh, "and even she can't wait to meet you." There's the cheeky smile.
You sigh, defeated, you came to realise how stubborn the Bridgertons can be, so keen on helping you for some reason.
"You're all infuriating." You shake your head, "is stubbornness a family trait?"
"I'm afraid so." He smirks, "and it pass down with each generation. You should see my sister Daphne with her son, two stubborn heads colliding everyday." He laughs at the thought and so do you, until the very thought of children slowly makes you ache.
"Ben..." you start turning serious, "I... I don't think that us together is a good idea."
"What do you mean?" It's Benedict's turn to feel confused.
"I..." you take a breath, "I can't give you children, Benedict. You know I can't..."
"My love..." he calls and you swear you could melt from his soft tone alone, "my beautiful, perfect love," he adds, making you roll your eyes though still losing the fight against your smile, "I love you beyond words, whatever flaw you think you have I love that as well, we'll have each other, and that, to me, is enough. You. You are enough. Convince me all you want, you said yourself, stubbornness is a family trait."
"I repeat... infuriating." You smile at him, despite your tears running free.
"Don't pretend you don't love it." His grin is proud, though you do see the sweetness behind it.
"I love you." You say, taking his hand.
"And I love you." He leans just enough to leave a peck on your lips.
“Though…” you add after a moment, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes, “if I am indeed this… baron’s daughter, is it not terribly improper for me to be alone with you, Mr. Bridgerton?”
"You and I are well past inappropriate, don't you think?" His turn to grin, you chuckle kissing him again.
"I suppose we are." You go back to the sandwich on your plate.
A knock comes from the door, letting Violet in.
"Good morning." She greets, soft voice and calming presence soothing you.
"Good morning." You smile.
"How are you feeling, my dear?" She comes closer, standing next to Benedict's chair.
"I... I'm alive..." you put it simply, "I can't thank you enough, my lady."
"There's no need," she dismisses you sweetly, "I had sent for the maids to come and change your bandages, the doctor told us to change them everyday." She informs you, "should the wounds start to hurt badly, we'll send for him again."
"Thank you. I mean it, thank you." You would get on your knees thanking her for hours if you could, though you know she wouldn't allow it. She would dismiss you again with her motherly sweetness.
"You're basically family, dear," again she dismisses you, Benedict winking at you proudly, "I'm afraid Hyacinth has already grown far too fond of you too much to let you go."
"How much have you talked about me?" You question Benedict, amused by the sudden redness on his cheeks.
"The appropriate amount..." he tries, not meeting your eyes.
"It felt like we already knew you before actually knowing you." Violet add with a bright smile.
"As if I wasn't nervous enough already." You chuckle to hide your nerves.
"My love, I can promise you, you have no reason whatsoever to feel anxious." He leans towards you to squeeze your hand.
Violet stands there watching you look at each other, how you both find comfort in the other's eyes so naturally like the flowers blooming in spring, how everyone with common sense could see clearly the love you two share. Violet eyes brighten with joyful tears, and her mouth curves into a warm smile.
--------------
Once the maids came in, along Kate's offer for comfort. Both her and Violet dismissing Benedict refusal to leave you, insisting on how improper it would be still, you'd laugh at the pouty face he put while he was pushed out of the room, though he managed to send a kiss your way before leaving with Violet.
Kate sat with you, holding your hand as the maids removed and put on new bandages with the herbs.
The drawing room in the meantime is quite ecstatic, impatient almost.
"When are you going to introduce her to us, brother?" Hyacinth demands.
"Once she is well enough." Benedict laughs, absolutely, and secretly, adoring how excited his little sister is to meet you.
“The woman has barely survived whatever barbarity was done to her, and you are already demanding introductions.” Eloise sighs, crossing her arms, earning a scoff from the youngest Bridgerton.
"I'm simply eager to put a face on the woman that surprisingly managed to capture Benedict's heart." She defends herself.
"So am I." Eloise counters, "at last knowing the mysterious woman brave enough to put a leash on our dear brother, yet I'm not demanding."
That catches Benedict's attention, making a frown appear on his face.
"Wait... I don't have a leash..." he starts to defend himself.
"I'm afraid you do, brother." Anthony appears from behind him, "you're in love. It's basically the same thing." He says teasingly.
"See?" Eloise grins, victorious.
"How is she feeling?" The Viscount asks.
"She is... healing." Benedict exhales, slowly coming to realise you're actually safe and with him, "Kate is with her while the bandages are changed."
"Is there anything we can do?" Surprisingly Francesca speaks from her place by the table with John.
"Some of my associates could help with things regarding her title." John gently offers, "if she is who you think she is, that would need to be settled, there should be a will somewhere."
"I know..." Benedict nods, though the prospect of throwing you into such matter worries him, Anthony senses his discomfort and steps in.
"Thank you, John," he turns to Benedict, "we do need to think about it, brother."
"I know, I know... I just worry, it would be hard enough to come down to terms with being a baron's daughter and enter society under such circumstances... I don't want her to have to worry about something like this." He admits.
"I can tend to everything myself, once the matter is confirmed, I can see to it." John assures him.
"That's very kind for you, John, though I'm afraid she would actually have my head this time if I let you help her like this." Benedict shakes his head chuckling.
"I like her already." Eloise smiles proudly.
"I imagined as much."
The siblings keep their banter, while upstairs you're trying to catch you breath.
The maids finished their work, exiting the room to go fetch some water for you.
"You did amazingly." Kate gently praises you, moving a gentle hand on your head.
"Did anyone pour lava on my back or am I being too positive about my condition?" You say slowly getting your breathing to calm down.
"The worse is over," she smiles at your attempt at joking, "that's what the doctor said."
"That's... something." You smile weakly, you wish you could melt on the mattress and make the pain disappear.
"If those wounds get infected we will have to call for him again, but they don't look so bad anymore... compared to last night." Kate can't stop the grimace at the memory of your bloody and split back, nor the one about your face contorted in pain. She's already grown fond of you, she feels like this unfortunate turn of even could turn into the beginning of something good.
"I'm sorry you had to witness it..." you carefully push yourself up, you want to face people properly when talking to them, Kate quickly caught on that, "it isn't a cute sight on a daily basis, let alone when the wounds are... fresh."
"Oh please." She takes you hand, "no more apologies for something you had no power over, please? For me?"
You look at her pleading face, though in jest, so you can't catch the small chuckle escaping you.
"Is stubbornness contagious once you marry a Bridgerton?" You shake your head, smiling.
"No, I think it's rather a quality you have to possess in order to be part of the family." She replies, rather proudly, already loving the relationship between you. Whatever happens, Kate knows she just gained a good friend.
"I should've known."
"So, I'm sorry to say this, but you'd fit right in, my dear friend." She squeezes your hand before letting go and leaning her back on the chair. Your smile falters for a second.
"Do you think it would be possible?" You don't look at her as you ask, you don't want to risk seeing a glimpse of uncertainty. Though Kate smile remains strong and sure.
"When love is involved everything is possible."
"But the ton is involved too... you can't ignore that." You sigh, "I don't want you all to risk your family's reputation for me. Benedict told me about his younger siblings and I can't imagine..."
"We all agreed. Whatever happens you are welcome. Please stop worrying."
"I don't think it possible, my lady."
"I told you, Kate is enough." She reminds you, then nods your way, "stubborn, indeed." You both laugh.
"I'm doomed, am I not?"
"I'm afraid so," she stands, smile never leaving her face, "Once you feel better we will send for Lady Danbury to.."
"Prove my heritage?" You joke, and Kate nods, "I... I think delaying it would only increase my nerves. The sooner we get this over with, the better I'll feel."
"You don't have to worry, I promise you. And Lady Danbury might seem... intimidating, but I can assure you, she'll help you regardless." She reassures you, walking to the door.
"I'll trust you, my lady." You stress the last part on purpose, to which Kate replies by sending you a playful glare.
"Stubborn, indeed." She repeats, before leaving you to rest.
--------------
That afternoon you're trying to stand when the door opens letting Benedict in, along Kate and Anthony.
Benedict immediately rushes to your side to stop you.
"Ben..." you say exasperated.
"The doctor says you need to rest." He reminds you firmly.
"Stubborn." Kate laughs.
"I just need to stretch my legs, I feel like I'm going numb from my waist down if I don't move." You reason, giving Benedict a look daring him to deny you, "help me stand if it eases your mind so much."
"You'll be the death of me, my love." He shakes his head defeated, he gently holds your hand as you uses him to stand on your feet.
"Thank you." You says honestly.
"Just be careful." He asks, eyes scanning you for any fort of discomfort.
"I am, Benedict, stop worrying." You whisper with a smile meant to assure him, he return the smile though he doesn't stop his watchful eyes.
"I..." Anthony clears his throat to grab your attention, "I wanted to apologise to you, properly, for the way I treated you and talked to you."
"You welcomed me in your house and let your doctor tend to me, my Lord, " you start, "I think you already apologised enough."
"I do not think so," that catches you off guard, "I thought the worst of you before even seeing you, I accused you of using my brother when you were only trying to protect him, risking problems of your own." He says the last part with remorse, feeling somehow guilty for the state of your back, "I apologise for that. It wasn’t right from me to do so."
You notice how both Kate and Benedict are pleasantly surprised, with a him of a smirk on Benedict side.
"Oh... I... accept apologies, my Lord, I..."
"Anthony is fine." He interjects.
"I understand you as well simply wanted to protect Benedict, I hold no hard feelings against you." You smile, glad the unspoken tension has finally been lifted.
"I'm sorry it took me longer to realise it myself." He offers his hand for you, after a quick glance to Benedict’s reassuring smile, you take it, "I'm happy Benedict found you."
"Thank you." You squeeze his hand, as you start to get more emotional a soft music fills the air, the delicate and calming presence joining you.
"Ah... that must be Francesca," Kate says with a smile, "she thought some music might do you good. She must've finally decided what piece to play."
"Oh..?"
"How are you feeling about some introduction today?" Benedict asks you, gently, you know you can refuse, delay it a bit longer and he will hold nothing against you. You do wish to meet his family, you know how important they all are to him, hence why the nerves are a constant companion of such wish. You look at him, his reassuring presence makes sure to let you know that you have a choice and he won't force you, that same look that makes you nod your head.
"Yes."
"You don't have to if you're not feeling it yet, we got time, my love." He's quick to say.
"I'm sure." You nod once more.
--------------
Slowly and carefully you walk through Bridgerton's house, towards the drawing room. Naturally, Benedict Bridgerton hovers at your side as though you might shatter into a thousand tragic pieces if left unattended for even a second.
"Oh, my dear, come come." She comes by your other side to lead you to sit down, "here, I'll send for some tea."
"There's..." but she's already instructing the maids about it, "no need..." you smile defeated, looking up to see Benedict quite amused by the interaction.
"Good morning!" A young girl appears by your table, excitement written all over her.
"Good morning, " you smile at her, recognising from Benedict's description this must be Hyacinth.
"I'm Hyacinth," she introduces herself, "you're very beautiful."
"Oh..." you weren't expecting it at all, "thank you, though I think you outshine me."
"You're kind, I'm not surprised you managed to put a leash on my brother." She repeats the previous conversation so lightly Benedict chokes on air.
"Oh!" You try to hold back a laugh as you look at a very blushing Benedict holding a hand to his face.
"Alright that is enough, Hyacinth, thank you." He gently rushes her away.
"I quite like her." You admit, still chuckling at his expense.
"She enjoys your suffering, brother, she fits right in the family already." Eloise grabs your attention, "I'm Eloise, it's so nice to meet you. I just want to say you have my admiration, no easy to obtain in this household."
"Your.. why?"
"Benedict told us what happened..."
"More like forced me to tell you." Benedict specifies.
"Regardless, he told us and I couldn't even imagine... you're a representation of strength, the simple fact that you're already out of bed is inspiring."
"Oh I... I wouldn't say..." you start, mot entirely sure on what to say, "it was sort of a periodic occurrence..."
"People who insist they are not strong are usually the only ones who are. Everyone else simply declares it and expects applause. I'm glad you're here."
"Thank you," you smile at her.
You never expected Benedict's family to be so understanding.
She nods with a smile before leaving the room as well.
"You managed to charm her," Benedict says in disbelief, "absurd.." he laughs.
"I didn't even say anything." You chuckle, nerves still not leaving you.
"You didn't have to," he smiles caressing your cheek tenderly, "but let me introduce you to Francesca and her husband John Stirling."
Up until that moment the music kept playing, now it stopped almost startled.
"Oh, my apologies, I was too caught up in the piano," Francesca stands up abruptly to walk to you.
"Please... there's no need to apologise, the music was much needed, you're very talented." You smile at her, noticing how her shoulders relax.
"She is indeed." The man, John, agrees, "a pleasure to meet you, I'm John Stirling."
"Nice to meet you too."
"Do you play any instruments?" Francesca asks.
"I... don't think so, I always had the desire to do so, but... I never could." You reply with a regretful smile.
"I can teach you, if you'd like." She offers, creating shock around her.
John is pleasantly surprised, and rather proud of his wife. Benedict's mouth opens without uttering a word. Kate is beaming with pride and Anthony is the exact copy of his brother.
"I heard Baron Milligan was very fond of music, he probably taught you something before..." he says hinting at the incident.
"I don't remember." You say, "even if he did, if I am his daughter that is, I wouldn't remember it."
"I've read something about muscle memory, it implies that you muscles hold memory." He explains, everything about him radiates understanding and comfort, it makes you feel less out of place, "if you did learn pianoforte, your body should remember, you might be a bit rusty, but nothing a bit of practice won't help fixing."
"When you'll feel better we can play something together." Francesca proposes, her shy smile simply make you want to indulge her this very instant.
"Once she feels better." Benedict says, though he's grateful and pleased Francesca is eager to play with you, and teach you.
"Of course, of course." She immediately blurts out, "I'm sorry for what happened to you."
"It's over now." You assure her, noticing her eyes tearing up a little.
"Here's your tea, sweetheart." Violet comes back followed by the maids with the tea.
"Thank you so much." You smile.
After that the entirety of the day was spent in the drawing room, listening to childhood stories from the siblings and cute anecdotes from Violet about her children. Benedict watches from the sides as you interact with everyone, he's focused on you both because any wince or hint of pain he's ready to sprint by your side and offer his help, and also because he want to keep the image in his mind for as long as possible, he would paint it inside his eyelids if he could. The way you smile at the stories Violet is sharing, the way you listen to Francesca talking about the pianoforte. Most of all the way you're relaxed, you're comfortable and that couldn't make him happier.
You refused a client, you did, you really did. You rejected him, harshly too. You couldn't bare to have his hands on you. He didn't take it kindly. He took you anyway, he paid for you after all. That's how your spirit got shattered.
It's when he went complaining to Clarissa and John that it was your body's turn to be punished.
John barged into the room, furious beyond imagination.
He shouted at you, grabbed you by your hair and pushed you down. All under the disappointed and bored eyes of his sister. Then the strikes started. Harsh, painful, splitting, full of hatred... bloody.
Then they left. No cure, nothing to clean yourself, tou don't even know if they'll come back or not.
Your back is throbbing violently, everything burns and breathing gets harder by the minute. You can feel blood colouring your skin, dark shades of red painting your sides and shoulders.
You force yourself to move, to stand and find something to stop the bleeding or just anything to relief yourself. You push with your arms but they give out, making you fall again.
All you can do is whimper and grit your teeth, ignoring the pain is not an option, it's too much.
--------------
Celeste, from her place behind the bar, sees the man leaving, she notices he's not satisfied at all, mumbling something to himself. She finds it unusual, because everytime you have a client they walk out a lot more than satisfied. That's the first sign thay something is off.
The second sign comes not long after, Celeste catches Clarissa and John on the balcony discussing something, and her eyes catch John cleaning his belt with a piece of fabric, staining it red and Celeste's blood runs cold.
The owners' attention is drawn by something by the doors, and she follows their line of sight.
Benedict Bridgerton enters intention in his eyes burning through the crowd, looking for something, or better, someone.
Benedict is intercepted by Clarissa as he makes his way through the people.
"Aah Mr Bridgerton, what a pleasure!" She summons the fake kindness she uses with all the customers, "I haven't seen you in so long..."
"Where is she?" He asks, having no time for her lies.
"Who, my Lord?" She pretends to wonder.
"Y/n, where is she?" He repeats.
"With a client so you should leave." John interferes, he grins triumphant.
"I'm not leaving." Benedict puffs his chest out, not even slightly intimidated.
"She is busy, mister, try pay the right amount and we'll think about you two having a moment." His grin is mockery, pure mockery, "or seek someone else to entertain you."
Benedict holds his stare, when something catches his attention behind the vile man. It's the girl that helped him find your place. She is signaling for him to go to her, and she seems quite agitated.
"Maybe I will." He retorts and walks past John, to the bar where Celeste is waiting for him.
She acts nonchalant, not wanting to raise any suspicions.
"Something is wrong." She whispers so only Benedict can hear. He obviously widens his eyes and his heart stops for a moment.
"What do you mean?" He demands.
"I saw her last client leave, not happy at all, then I saw Clarissa and John going in, not with a client and when they got back John was cleaning his belt." She explains, "I can't leave my spot here, but if I'm not mistaken they put her in the last room upstairs."
"Thank you!" He rapidly stand to follow her directions, he knows that action probably caught some eyes, but he doesn't care, he also knows he can be quicker.
He rushes upstairs and to the end of the long hallway. He carefully open, and at first he sees no one and panics raises inside him for the worst, then his ears pick something.
Whimpering. Groaning.
His eyes follow soon.
You're still on the ground, trying everything in tour power to stand, even crawl.
"Y/n..!" Benedict is by your side in less than a second, he has no idea what to do, his hands hover over your body not knowing where he can touch.
"Ben..?" You weakly breath.
"I'm so so sorry, I need to lift you up, so I can take you away, and to a doctor. " He says with broken voice, feeling too powerless.
"I can't... Ellie..." you can't even speak anymore, the pain is too much to bear.
“She’ll be fine. I’ll see to that, you have my word,” he promises without hesitation.
He looks around frantically until he finds your shawl. Picking it up, he returns to your side.
“I’m going to put the shawl on you now, all right? Are you ready?”
When you only nod, he asks again, more firmly, “I need you to talk to me. Are you ready?”
“Y-yes.”
Benedict carefully lays the shawl across your back. It is of little use, but at least it is something.
“I’m going to lift you up now. Can you bear it?”
“Yes…” Your voice grows weaker by the minute.
He kneels beside you again and carefully slides one arm beneath your shoulders, helping you roll slightly onto your side. You whimper and tremble with pain, but Benedict keeps talking to you, keeping you conscious.
“You are so brave,” he murmurs softly, trying desperately to offer any comfort at all. “My brave girl. I’ll get you out soon, don’t worry.”
His other arm slides beneath your knees, and he lifts you carefully into his arms, keeping one arm as securely around your shoulders as he can.
“Mm…” You want to speak, to thank him, to say something, but all that escapes you is a cry of pain.
“Shh, shh, it’s all right. I’m here. Bear it a little longer, my love,” he says as he slowly rises to his feet. “Let me take you away from here.”
He walks toward the door just as it opens, revealing John standing on the other side.
“What do you think you’re doing, sir?” the man asks.
"Leaving," the reply is simple, “If it’s money you’re concerned about, name your price. But she’s coming with me.”Benedict declares. He is almost grateful that you are in his arms, or he would already be punching the man in the face.
“It will be expensive, sir. I suggest you do not go through the trouble for this one.” The co-owner’s face darkens. “She is not leaving.”
“Whatever the price, I’ll pay it.”
The finality in his voice leaves no room for argument. Benedict walks toward him, pushing past with you still in his arms.
“I also suggest you stay away. If I see you near her, or even thinking of getting near her, I’ll make sure you’ll have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Bridgerton?” John replies coolly. “The ton may have questions about where you’ve spent your evening.”
Benedict smiles.
It is the sort of smile that suggests the other man has made a very foolish mistake.
“Half the gentlemen downstairs belong to that very same ton.”His voice turns almost conversational. “Do you truly imagine any of them will rush to support your story?”
Benedict carries you outside. Celeste joins the two of you the moment she sees you, hurrying over to help as you descend the stairs. All eyes turn toward you, but Benedict cares only about getting you out of that place.
“I’ll take her to my home. I’ll call our doctor and take care of her,” he tells Celeste.
“She won’t like that, you know.”
“She can scold me once she’s better,” Benedict replies confidently. “Do you think you could go to her place and warn her landlady? I’ll make sure the doctor sees Ellie as well.”
They step out into the night, leaving the brothel behind.
“She’ll surely do more than scold you when she recovers,” Celeste chuckles. “I’ll tell Mrs. Link, don’t worry… just take care of her, please?”
“Trust me, I will.”
The determination in Benedict’s voice gives Celeste enough reassurance to leave you in his care.
“Do let me know when she recovers, please?” she asks as they near the point where she must separate from them to go to Mrs. Link’s apartment building.
“I’ll make sure of it.” He nods. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
She smiles before turning away, leaving Benedict alone as he walks as quickly as he can toward the Bridgerton house.
--------------
Kate keeps her eyes locked out the window, searching for any sight of Benedict and you. Hand on her chest, deep on thought.
"They'll be here soon, I'm sure everything is fine." Anthony comes up beside her.
"I don't know... there's this feeling I can't shake." She admits, then suddenly something catches her attention, "they're here..." she properly looks at you and sees Benedict is holding you, "oh my..."
She rushes out of the room, leaving Anthony confused he takes a quick glance out and follows his wife without hesitation.
"Send for the doctor, now." He demands one of the footmen, "prepare the gues room, quick."
Kate is by the doors already opening them to let Benedict in, Violet close behind.
"What happened?" She asks, finally seeing the blood soaked shawl on her back.
"We need the doctor, she..."
"I already send for him, the room is being arranged right now." Anthony assures him, "come."
"Help me." He says with a broken voice on the verge of tears.
"I'm here."
Carefully and together, Anthony and Benedict bring you upstairs to the guest room, laying you down on your stomach, you whimper, Benedict kneels by your side instantly.
"Sshh I know, I know, just wait a little longer for me, please, it will be better soon." Benedict gently caresses your head, "I promise... just stay with me."
He sees you weakly moving your hand, searching for him, for his safety. He doesn't think twice and holds your hand in his.
"Ben..." there are so many things you wish to say, so many things you're afraid you won't get to say, tears wetting your eyes, scared out of your mind, "I'm sorry..."
It's so weak Benedict thought he imagined it.
"No, no, my sweet girl, there's nothing to be sorry for, you're here." He whispers through his own tears.
Anthony watches helpless his brother comforting you, his own guilt creeping inside him ready to eat him.
"The doctor is here." Violet announces, she is followed by a man, said doctor, "right in here, sir."
"Thank you for arriving so quickly," Anthony nods, grateful, then turns to his brother, he puts a hand on his shoulder, "the doctor is here, Benedict, come."
Benedict reluctantly let your hand go, still whispering sweet comforting words to you, leaving the doctor to his work.
"I'm not leaving her." It's final, Benedict doesn't leave room for argument, "how can I help?"
The doctor look at Violet, who clearly defeated nods her head, as in to say 'let him help'.
"I'll need clean cloths, and cold water, I have alum powder in my bag, soak the cloth in water and the powder while I inspect her." The doctor instructs, turning to carefully lift the bloody shawl off your back, making you gasp in pain. Everything you feel is hot, your back feels like it's on fire.
Benedict freezes, he didn't have time to look at your back properly, blood prevented him from seeing the real damage.
"Benedict..." His brother voice feels too far to hear, "Benedict!"
He snaps put of his trance, turning to look at Anthony who already got the alum powder from the doctor handbag.
"I'm sorry..." he shakes his head, "cloth, water... yes."
He rushes out.
“How…” Violet’s voice hesitates, her heart aches at the sight of your wounds.
“It depends upon how the night unfolds,” the doctor replies gravely. “If she manages to survive the night, there's hope.”
“She will.” Kate reaches for Violet’s hand, her voice steady though her expression is tight. She gives the older woman’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “Is there anything else you need, doctor?”
“Have the maids prepare a mixture of herbs if they can: calendula and comfrey will suffice. If those cannot be found, a paste of honey or sugar will do well enough.”
“I shall see to it.” Violet inclines her head before quietly leaving the room.
Kate remains behind, watching as the doctor bends over you to examine the injuries. Her gaze drifts downward, and catches the sight of your hand clenched into a fist so tight your nails have broken the skin.
The viscountess steps closer, kneeling beside the bed. Carefully, she pries your hand open and wraps her fingers around yours.
You don't even notice.
All your attention is consumed by the incandescent agony on your back. The pain is so fierce, so consuming, that you would not be surprised if smoke rose from your skin.
“I must stop the bleeding before I can properly cleanse the wounds,” the doctor says, glancing toward Kate.
As though summoned by the words, the door opens and Benedict and Anthony return, a bundle of soaked cloths in their hands.
“Here.” Benedict passes them to the doctor, his voice rough.He does not move away. Instead, he watches the man’s every motion with hawk-like intensity. The moment the cloth presses against your back, you flinch sharply, a pained gasp slipping past your lips.
Benedict’s jaw tightens.
“Benedict…” Anthony places a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You must allow the doctor to work.”
“No.” The refusal comes immediately, his gaze never straying from you.
“Sweetheart, you must take a moment.” Violet’s voice is soft, yet filled with quiet authority. “You will be of no help to her if you collapse now.”
“Kate is with her,” Anthony adds gently, guiding Benedict a step toward the door.
“I shall not leave her side,” Kate promises, her fingers still wrapped securely around yours. “And I will send for you the moment anything changes.”
Benedict gives a slow, hollow nod. The strength seems to drain from him all at once. He allows Anthony and his mother to lead him from the room.
They retreat to Anthony’s study, where privacy is assured. The door has scarcely closed behind them before Benedict reaches for a bottle on the sideboard, ignoring his mother’s weary sigh.
“She will be well, Benedict,” Anthony says quietly.
“What if she will not?” Benedict snaps, turning sharply toward him. Fresh tears gather in his eyes. “What if I lose—”
The words die in his throat, choking him. He cannot bring himself to finish them.
“You will not.” Violet steps forward until she stands directly before her son, gently but firmly lifting his chin so he must meet her gaze. “When she first came here,” she says softly, “I saw something in her eyes. Determination. A strength most people never possess.” Her voice warms with conviction. “Those were not the eyes of a woman who would surrender to wounds such as these.”
Anthony glances at Benedict.
“You told me she never speaks of her scars. Is that correct?” Benedict nods stiffly. “Then she has endured something like this before,” Anthony continues. “Which means she will not allow this time to be different.”
Benedict drags a hand over his face, his breathing uneven.
“I just… If I had arrived sooner. If I had been faster…” The ifs crowd his thoughts like restless ghosts. “If I had simply refused to let her go.”
“I do not know her as you do,” Anthony says with the faintest hint of a smile, “but I suspect she would not be particularly fond of hearing you blame yourself.”
Despite the tears still clinging to his lashes, Benedict lets out a weak, breathless laugh.
“No… she would not.” He shakes his head. “More likely she would scold me for it.”
“Well then,” Violet says warmly as she takes his hands in hers, “you will be in excellent hands.”
Benedict’s expression darkens slightly, the bitterness creeping back into his voice.
“If she truly is his daughter…”
Violet squeezes his hands gently, her gaze unwavering.
“Then we shall find another way,” she says with quiet confidence. “Regardless.”
--------------
Your breath comes in broken gasps, your cries muffled against the pillow. Even now, through the pain, you attempt to remain as quiet as you can, as though you might spare the room your suffering.
“We must keep her steady, or I may do more harm than good whilst tending the wound,” the doctor murmurs quietly to Kate.
Kate’s eyes glisten with tears as she meets his gaze, but she nods.
“I'll be back soon, dear,” she whispers softly to you.
You scarcely register the words. All your strength is spent in the simple effort of breathing.
“Take a deep breath for me,” the doctor says gently, his voice patient rather than hurried.
You try. You draw in a breath as instructed, though what escapes you is a pained groan as you feel him remove something from your back.
“I am here, my love. I am here.”
Benedict’s voice reaches you as though from far away, warm and steady despite the tremor beneath it.
“I regret to ask this,” the doctor says carefully, “but you must hold her still.”
Though the words are spoken with sympathy, Benedict’s eyes widen all the same.
"Hold her... what?"
“The shaking may be dangerous whilst I trim the ragged edges of the wound,” the doctor continues.
Benedict nods without hesitation. He climbs carefully onto the bed beside you, holding you steady so that you cannot move too much.
Near the doorway, the rest of the household watches in helpless silence. There is nothing they can do but wait for the doctor to finish his work. Only the maids move about the chamber, their hands busy with small jars of medicinal paste and bundles of herbs, along with clean linen bandages ready for when the wound needs to be tended.
Through it all, Benedict murmurs softly against your hair, his voice a constant presence beside you.
“I know it hurts,” he whispers. “But it shall pass.” His hand tightens gently around yours. “You will feel better soon, I promise you. And when you are well again, you may scold me for bringing you here.” A faint breath of laughter escapes him. “I'd let you, remember? You may scold me for eternity, my love.”
--------------
The night went on like that.
Never-ending fire coming from your back, not a single dry eye in sight, all watching with their hearts in pieces as you fight through the excruciating flames, Benedict glued to your side until the bandages are applied.
"Change the bandages daily," the doctor says to no one in particular and to everyone who will be willing to take the task, "if the wounds get infected send for me immediately, have her sleep on her belly to avoid any friction on her back and, for the same reason, loose clothing." The eagerness in everyone's eyes urges him to add, "she will be fine. The worse is over. She only need rest and care."
"Thank you, doctor." Benedict whispers, bringing the light blanket on your passed out form, "Uh..." he searches for something to write on, "could you please also go to this address? There's a little girl who needs some care, a woman named Celeste should be there waiting."
"Of course, Mr Bridgerton." The doctor accepts the piece of paper from him.
"Thank you, doctor, truly." Anthony leads the doctor out.
"She's strong." Violet steps closer to her son, who's watching you, "you need to rest as well."
"I'm not leaving her." It's definitive.
"I'll stay with her, " Kate joins in, "you've had quite the day too."
"I... if she wakes up..."
"I'll send for you." She is quick to assure him.
"Come, love." Violet gently tugs at her son's arm.
"In a minute, mother." He nods and softly, careful not to bother your, earned and still troubled, rest. He kneels close to your face softly talking to you, "I know, once you're awake you will not like it that I brought you here and sent a doctor to Ellie, you will tell me I shouldn't have, that being involved with you isn’t worth it," he scoffs, "You are my most precious inspiration."
He leave a light kiss to your head before following his mother out.
"Once she is well enough, I'll send for Lady Danbury and we'll find the truth." Violet says, she tries to distract her son, but as she quickly glances to her side Benedict is holding back sobs, "oh my dear." She brings him in a hug, she holds him close.
"I just... I was.." he sobs.
"I know, I know, she is fine now, you heard the doctor, she only needs to rest now." She caresses his back soothing as he cling to her.
"She doesn't deserve it." He pulls back to look at his mother, "when I arrived there...mother, she was covered in blood."
"She is here." Violet cuts him off, though her soft caring tone doesn't leave her, "you arrived in time. She will be fine, Benedict. The worse is gone." She reminds him, cupping his cheek with one sweet hand.
"The worse is gone." He nods, puffing out some air to relieve his heart from the restless fear he's been experiencing all day.
"Go lay down for a while, she'll be still here when you awake."
They share a smile, a smile well needed, one that finally lifted a burden on their shoulder, one that lets them breath again.
Benedict kisses his mother's cheek and retreat to his room, ready to rest his eyes at last.
We're getting there my loves, this is a chapter full of hope, enough to prepare you for the next one😉
As always, thank you so much for the love you're showing to my story, it really means a lot.❤️❤️❤️
Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the tag list let me know🥰
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He looks at the painting of you he's been working on: a small canvas of you looking out of the window in the brothel's room you always meet in, your naked back facing him. He recalls that day clearly.
"Can I move?" You'd ask him, being tired of the stillness you had to endure, though you were quite amused by how concentrated he looked.
"Just a moment, I need to at least finish the sketch so I can paint you." He'd answer, quickly moving the pencil.
"Haven't you got enough sketches of me already?" You wondered, "one would mistake this as obsession, Mr Bridgerton."
"Maybe I am." He replied, "but who's to blame?"
"Oh so is it my fault?"
"Oh absolutely." He laughed, quietly standing up to get closer to you, sketch long done, "your beauty is beyond this world, the way you keep me in line is irresistible."
You felt him behind you and let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around you all of a sudden.
You two laughed as he picked you up to bring you back to the bed.
"Tell me you just finished your sketch and you haven't being staring at me for the past 20 minutes." You teased him.
"Guilty." He feigned a pout on his lips, pretending to feel sorry for it.
"You're unbelievable! I've been sitting still all that time-" He kissed you, taking you by surprise, "mmh Ben!" You playfully pushed him off.
"See? I'm attracted to you like a magnet, I'm innocent!" He started attacking your neck with kisses.
"Yeah, innocent like a whore in a brothel." You playfully rolled your eyes. That caught his attention.
"Do you see yourself like that?" He asked you, "not innocent?"
"Well, I think it's pretty obvious that by society's expectations I'm... damaged, compromised." You explained to him, simply as day.
"By society's expectations I'd have to marry you to avoid a scandal." Benedict grinned, "not that I'd be opposed to the idea."
"Benedict..." you shook your head, not able to contain your smile, the warning dying on your tongue.
"I love it when you say my name like that."
"Like I'm about to scold you?"
He nods, content.
"I'd let you scold me for eternity."
A knock on the door takes him away from the memory.
"Benedict," he recognises Kate's voice from behind the door, "are you coming down for supper?"
He takes a moment, he's not hungry.
"I'm not feeling well." He says, not wanting to be disturbed any more.
"Do you need anything? I can fetch..."
"No, thank you, just leave me alone." He tells her, his voice croaky from crying.
The door opens, cautiously, and Kate enters with her sweet and comforting offer.
"Anthony told me what happened." She says, standing closer to him in front of the painting.
"Please, sister, please do not tell me that this is for the best because I don't want to yell at you as well." He put his hands to his face, exasperated already.
"No, actually." She replies, the sorrow in her voice is quite clear, "I'm afraid it wasn't for the best. Surely not for yours. I can't talk for her, I don't know her, but I see you. I can tell this is not a simple infatuation and, by the fact that she never took your money, I'd dare say the same for her."
Benedict feels relieved someone is not trying to make him feel better, but is trying to understand him.
"I don't know what to do." He admits, "my soul is her breath, I feel incomplete..."
He breaks again, fresh tears streaming down like a river and Kate immediately hugs him.
"I'm really sorry, Benedict, I wish there was something I could do." She whispers.
"Thank you."
Kate sadly smiles as she take a look at the portrait.
"That's her, I assume." She walks closer to the canvas, Benedict nods wiping away the tears on his face, "she is beautiful."
"She is. She absolutely is."
She inspect the figure a little closer and her eyes fall to something on the girl's back.
"What's that?" She asks.
"Oh that's just one of her birthmarks." Benedict explains, "she has the same one on the other side, symmetrical almost."
Something lightens up in Kate's mind, but she says nothing, she simply smiles at her brother-in-law and head for the door, once again trying to get him down to eat.
"Are you sure you're not hungry?"
"I really don't want to see my brother right now, I'll find something later." He reassures her, Kate nods defeated and, yet, still understanding and leaves him alone.
Benedict sits down remembering all about you, afraid these memory might vanish at any moment.
--------------
"Are you okay?" Celeste asks you as she helps you get ready, she knows you're not, but you haven't talked about what happened at all since you came back, she starts to get worry.
"I'm alright, Celeste, I promise." You force a smile to convince her, but she sees right through you.
"Then why do I see you fighting like a boxer to keep those tears in?" Celeste uses a soft tone, it's not accusatory, it's genuinely concerned.
"There's no need for tears anyway, they won't change the situation." The stubbornness emerges stronger than ever.
"But maybe a solution..."
"Solution? Like what?" You snap suddenly, but recover immediately, "Sorry... I'm sorry... but really, what solution could be found? He can't keep coming here, his reputation and the one of his family will be damaged, I won't be his mistress for the same reason and Ellie needs cures, I need money."
"I don't even know where to begin to tell you how sorry I am." Your friends sits beside you, a comforting hand on your back, you wince slightly, still tender from the whipping you got, Clarissa is still upset she lost such a customer "Sorry..."
You shake your head, then take her hand and hold it close.
"Thank you for not leaving me alone."
"Never!" Celeste squeezes your hand, "I would never."
You take a moment to breath then blink the tears away ready to go back to prepare yourself, dreading what will happens once the brothel closes.
John wasn't happy at all, and yet he still was thrilled, he could have you as much as he wants now, marking you however he pleases not having to worry about some gentleman concerning himself with your wellbeing. He doesn't go as hard as when he find out about the claim, but he doesn't go any easier either.
"Once I have enough money, and Ellie is in condition to travel, I'll leave... I..." you hesitate a moment, "I'd like for you to come with us."
"Me? Are you sure?" Celeste asks, you nod, never being more sure in your life, "I... of course!"
"Thank you." You hug her and she does the same, tightly, always careful not to hurt your back.
"We'll get out." She promises you.
You let out a relieved breath as you check your reflection one more time in the mirror.
"You have a talent for hair, my dear." You tell her admiring her work on your head.
"I have many skills, love." She winks and you laugh.
You laugh for the first time in weeks.
--------------
Kate is rummaging through old papers when Anthony finds her.
"What... are you doing?" He asks, confused at the sudden interest of his wife.
"I need to see if my theory is correct." She nervously tells him, there's also excitement in her voice, "because if I am... if I am, my love, it will change everything."
"I'm starting to get nervous, what are you talking about?"
Kate motions for him to step closer and lowers her voice so no one could eavesdrop.
"You'll think I'm mad..."
"I already do."
"But..." she glares at him, " but I think Benedict could be with her."
Anthony's mood changes immediately, his features harden.
"She is not noble, Kate, I love how you try to make everybody happy, but this... this is simply not possible." He tells her, though sweetly.
"Oh, but what if she was noble?" Kate replies, grin on her face.
"What do you mean?"
"When Lady Danbury came for tea a few weeks past she told me about her friend, the one who died more than a month ago, do you remember? I told you about it."
"Yes, yes I do, the family whose child was kidnapped," he nods remembering, "what? Do you think that girl is her lost daughter?"
Kate, sensing her husband's scepticism, shows him an old paper from the time the child was kidnapped.
"They sent this out to ask for help in finding her." She explains, "see what it says under the description of her."
Anthony takes the paper and starts reading.
Her hair colour seems to match, her eyes too, then he reads it.
"Two birthmarks on her back..."
"When I went to ask Benedict to come down for supper that night, I enter and he was staring at a portrait he made of her, he drew those birthmarks the same ones described here." Kate is ecstatic, she really hopes she is right on this.
"But are you sure he just didn't... get mistaken?" He asks.
"Something tells me that he saw her very accurately." She chuckles, "she must be her, her age matches as well!"
"I don't know..."
"We'll check tonight."
"What do you mean 'we'? And what do you mean by 'check'?" The confusion on her husband's face is hilarious, she has a plan and not even he could stop her.
--------------
You're fixing up your dress when the loud knocking on the other side of the door startles you.
"You have your first clients of the night." John enters, "you better be ready, if I have to wait one more second..."
"I'm ready." You turn, proving that you are, in fact.
"Good," he grins, "now this is a special one, well... Ones. It's a couple."
"A couple?"
"Oh yes, those nobles pricks claim to be so pure and proper, but deep down they're the nastiest."
You follow him through the hallways to one of the more secluded rooms upstairs, you're about to go in when he stops you grabbing your arm.
"If you dare embarrass us... I promise you I won't be gentle."
You know he never is, but you nod and enter.
Who you find inside is the last person you would ever think of.
Anthony Bridgerton stands in the middle of the room with his wife beside him.
Saying that you're stunned to see him would be an understatement.
"Oh..." you try to cover yourself at best.
"You must be Y/n, my name is Kate." The woman walks to tou holding out her hand for you. You hesitate to take it.
"What..?"
She retracts her hand and give you a soft smile.
"I'm sorry we're meeting like this, but I... I had to see something for myself." She explains you.
"I don't understand."
"It might seem... out of the ordinary, but I need to see your back." She tells you.
You even look at the viscount for clarification.
"It's important." He says.
"Why?"
"I wish I could tell you more, I promise you, but I need to know for sure if I am right first." She looks at you pleading with her eyes.
"It's not a good sight..." you don't want to show her the scars on your body.
"I promise, I'm not here to harm you." She reassures you.
You considers her for a moment, the look at Anthony who is just as attentive.
"Alright..." you say, moving to stand behind a curtain, "here though, and only you." You say looking at Kate.
"I'm not going to be distracted or corrupted if that's what you fear." You realised soon how defensive Anthony gets.
"My Lord, I have no such fear, it's your pity that I don't want." You tell him before disappearing behind the curtain followed by Kate.
You look at her for a moment, trying to delay the moment she'll see all the scars on your back. She gives you an encouraging smile, mouthing 'it's alright' to reassure you. You let the shawl fall to the ground, turn around so your back faces her and lift the very thin dress you wear.
"Oh.." she lets out a gasp, Benedict's portrait didn't include the irregular pattern the lines create on you back, "I..."
"I told you it's wasn't a good sight." You whisper.
"I'm so very sorry..." she says.
"Just check whatever you need to, please."
Kate nods even though you can't see her, she looks closely at your back, she check your sides and sees them.
The two birthmarks. Exactly like described.
"It's you." She says.
"Me?" You ask, turning around to see her face light up.
"I... I'm gonna need you to show them to Anthony. He could testify." She tells you, softly as if not to scare you.
You lower your dress, confusion and fear taking the best of you.
"Testify what? No, no, I'm not..."
"Please." She takes your hands, "I promise you, you have my word this is going to be a good thing."
You look into her eyes, you see kindness, you see determination.
"Fine..." you sigh.
"Thank you," she peaks out of the curtain, "I was right. See."
Anthony joins you and looks at you.
"Are you sure?" He asks his wife.
"Absolutely," she then turns to you, "show him, it's alright. I know he might not seem as open, but he too means no harm, I promise."
You sigh, and again lift your dress.
"Oh God..." he mutters, looking at the state of your back, "what happened to..."
"Nothing to concern yourself, my Lord." You quickly say.
"She has the same birthmarks described in the paper." Kate tells him and he looks at them, "I told you I was right."
"I'm sorry, when did you start working here?" He asks.
You turn to face them, confused beyond words.
"I... I don't remember, twelve years ago, more or less.." you tell them, "why?"
"And before that?" Kate questions. You can sense some eagerness in her.
"I..." you don't remember, everything before you were found is a blurr, if not less clear than that, "I don't remember. Clarissa told me she found me in a field, bleeding and she took me in. That's all I know."
Kate and Anthony looks at each other, Kate is beaming, Anthony has a shocked expression on.
"Oh my dear..."
"Wait that doesn't prove it." Anthony tries to reason.
"Of course it does."
"Can someone please tell me what's going on?" You demand, both pair of eyes on you, "I'm confused. And I'm going to be honest, I'm getting nervous."
"There's no need for that, I promise you." Kate takes you hands again, "but you need to trust us. You have my word I'll get you out of here."
You wish you could wave her off, not believe her, but the look in her eyes is enough to stop you, is enough to make you believe in her words.
"Alright..." you nod, "I want to trust you."
"Thank you." Kate suddenly hugs her, catching her off guard. You look at a just as taken aback Anthony.
"You have our word. You won't have to endure this much longer." Anthony nods, and it surprises you to see determination in him.
"Does Benedict know you're here?" You ask, arms crossed to shield yourself. You asked it hoping to sounds casual about it, and not like you're dying to have even a crumb of information about Benedict.
"He does not." Kate tells you, "no one does, actually."
"Is... is he alright?" You ask again, though you're afraid of the answer.
"He is... not." She admits, "he does love you."
You look into her eyes, and smile sadly. Internally you curse fate for tricking the both of you like this.
Anthony watches your reaction, he saw the way you asked about Benedict and something shifts in him.
Realisation.
You love his brother, truly.
It wasn't a trick to gain more money, it was real. It didn't only condemned Benedict, but you as well.
Protectiveness blossoms in him, he promises himself that even if you were not Lord Milligan's lost daughter, he'll do everything in his power to get you out of that life.
He look at his wife and recognise the same expression on her.
It's a promise.
--------------
You can't stop thinking about the encounter.
What was that?
Kate said she didn't want to tell you more and risk getting your hope up for nothing, but that doesn't stop you from rethinking about it over and over again. Just like you can't think about Benedict, so much that every man's touch feels wrong, like a shade that doesn't fit.
You should stop thinking like that, you should stop feeling like that, for your own good.
Because thinking about him, about his eyes, his mouth gets you distracted, and it will only earn you punishments, one harsher than the other.
Today though, today you fucked it up.
--------------
"Oh Violet, I was looking for you." Kate quickly walks up to her mother-in-law, followed by her husband, "we have something to tell you."
"Of course, my dear," Violet smiles at them.
"It's quite private, let's go to my study, mother."
Upon seeing her son's serious demeanor, the dowager lady Bridgerton's heart skips a bit, thinking of the worst.
"What is it?" She demands once the door is closed.
"Y/n might be Lord Milligan's lost daughter." Kate blurts out, bracing herself for Violet's reaction.
Silence.
Violet looks at the both of them as if they grew a second and even third head.
"It's not sure, mother," Anthony immediately clarifies.
"How do you know?" Violet asks Kate, who is the most convinced out of the two.
"I saw the portrait Benedict made, he says she has two almost symmetrical birthmarks on her back," Kate starts explaining, "Lady Danbury came here for tea some time ago and told us about her friend, lord Milligan, I looked up some papers about what happened and she matches the description, perfectly."
"Are you sure?" Excitement fills Violet's heart at the possibility of you being that child.
"Apparently the hair colour, her eyes, the birthmarks match, she also said everything older that 12 years is a blur, she has no memory before she was taken in." Anthony explains, more logically than Kate.
"Wait... how do you know that?" Violet wonders.
"We went to see her, mother," Anthony grimace at the admission, "we made sure no one saw is, the owner sure didn't recognise us, I assure you."
Violet glares at him, but hope outweighs her irritation, and a small smile softens her expression.
“Let us hope you are both right,” she says with a nod. “Have you told Benedict?”
“We have not even said anything to Y/N,” Kate replies gently. “It did not seem wise to give her hopes without being certain.”
“It seems a rather solid conclusion, if you ask me,” Violet insists. “What more proof could you possibly need?”
“We had hoped to find something more definitive,” Anthony admits, scratching the back of his neck. “Though at present, I cannot imagine how we might do so.”
“I believe I have an idea." A knowing smirk touches Violet’s lips. "Someone might recognise her.”
“Who?”
"Lady Danbury, of course,” she replies, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.
A silence falls between Kate and Anthony as they exchange a look, blinking in sudden realisation.
“How certain are you that she is his daughter?” Anthony asks quietly.
“With all my heart,” Kate answers without hesitation. “I thought you were not convinced.”
“I…” Anthony falters. “Not entirely. Not yet. But leaving her there feels… wrong.”
“Did something happen?” Violet asks, concern lacing her voice.
“When we went to see whether she had the birthmarks on her back,” Kate explains, her tone growing heavy. “We saw her back was...”
“She was covered in scars, Mother,” the viscount finishes, the words tumbling out. “None of the other girls tried to hide themselves as she did. I fear she was the only one.”
Violet gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “That poor girl…” Tears brim in her eyes.
“I shall tell Benedict,” Anthony declares, already striding toward the door.
“What of being certain before we say anything?” Kate calls after him.
“My brother needs hope,” he replies softly. He presses a kiss to her temple before leaving the room and making his way upstairs to Benedict’s chamber.
He knocks, tending his ear to catch any sign of his brother's life in the room.
Nothing.
He sighs, rolling his eyes and enters anyway.
What he finds breaks his heart, he can't help the admission to himself: broken canvases and paintbrushes everywhere.
"What do you want?" Comes Benedict's voice by the window.
"You need to know something." Anthony declares, though before he could utter a single word his brother stands from the window abruptly.
"If you're here to tell me I need to get over her, don't waste your breath, brother." Benedict tells him, venom fills his voice.
"Actually, I..."
"It's really easy for you, isn't it?" Benedict spits out, "you married the woman you love, I can't even see mine anymore. And you came here for what? Tell me to brush it off and, maybe, get presentable because a ball is coming soon. I'm so in love that being away from her is torture, and..."
"I was wrong!" Anthony exclaims to catch his brother's attention and to stop him from talking any further.
"What..?"
"I was wrong about her." He repeats, soft eyes looking at his brother for forgiveness, "I thought, no, I was sure, she was just like any other woman who sells herself. Who would simply use you for your money and eventually break your heart once she found someone richer." He explains, looking around the room eyes falling to the scattered sketches around, "her returning your money should've been enough proof, I admit that, and once I have the chance I will apologise to her as well. The love you share is real, I apologise for thinking otherwise."
Benedict considers him, and the possibility of this man not being his brother feels very plausible. He also wishes he could frame the moment forever, for it's rare Anthony Bridgerton admits he is wrong.
Then it clicked.
"Wait... 'once you have the chance' what do you mean?" He asks
"We... well, Kate found out something, it's not a certain thing, please keep this in mind," he rushes to specify, "but Y/n might be Lord Milligan's lost daughter."
"Milligan? The name's familiar..."
"If you had a chance to interact with Lady Danbury in the past few weeks she would likely have told you about her friend. Someone kidnapped his child more than a decade ago."
Benedict freezes, he never expected anything remotely close to what his brother just said.
"Wh-what?" He's at loss for words, between the ecstatic and the unconvinced.
"Kate, upon seeing one of the many... many, portraits you made, she notices that the birthmarks on her back match the one the baron's daughter had." Anthony slowly explains, though seeing his brother's still confused expression he adds, "there might be a way for you to be together."
"Are you kidding me, brother?" Benedict asks, suspicious, "because that would be mean even for you."
"You have my word, I'm not jesting." Anthony smiles at him.
It's like joy fuelled him with energy, beautiful, electric energy.
"Oh my god..." Benedict is in the verge of crying out of happiness.
"Though, keep in mind it's not yet confirmed," Anthony reminds his brother, who nods, and yet something in his heart tells him to keep believing, "I also can promise you that whatever happens, we'll make sure to get her out of that place."
"What's with the sudden protectiveness?"
"Kate insisted on going to check the birthmarks in person and... we saw her back." Anthony says, Benedict's geature softens suddenly remembering, "I don't know what came over me, an epiphany of some sort, but I started to think... if she were my daughter, kidnapped and treated like that I'd move mountains to save her, then I simply thought that no one should have to endure tortures like those. Baron's lost daughter or not. I realised I've been unfair to her and I plan on making it right."
"She never talked about them." Benedict says, "I'd ask about it, tried to get her to tell me, but she knew me and she knew I'd try to do something reckless if she ever admitted it out loud..."
Anthony walks closer to him, comfort and determination shining in his eyes, he puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, grounding him and reassuring him.
"She won't endure it much longer."
Benedict suddenly hugs him, grateful and hopeful at last after all that time. Happy his brother saw reason and is on his side, finally on his side.
"Thank you." He whispers, "so did you tell her?"
"Not yet." He answers, "we'll need lady Danbury to recognise her, or not and we'll move from there."
"Shall we then?" Benedict can't contain himself any longer.
"What?"
"Bring Y/n here."
"It's the middle of the night, surely we can't call on lady Danbury at this hour." He scolds Benedict who immediately pouts, "we'll do it tomorrow, I promise, first thing in the morning."
"You can't expect me to just stay here and wait until morning." Benedict shakes his head, ready to sprint out of the room at any moment.
"That is exactly what you should do." Anthony quickly orders.
"Absolutely not!" He nearly shouts, "you told me I have the possibility to be with the person I love and really expect me to stay put?"
"Patience is a virtue, brother." Anthony counters, with a small smirk.
"Not when it comes to love." Benedict's smirk is bigger as he nearly sprints out.
He rushes down the stairs, miraculously not falling, followed by an amused Anthony, he finds Kate and his mother talking just outside the office.
"He told you?" Violet greets her son with a smile, happy to see him so full of energy again.
"He did!" He hugs his mother and turns to Kate, "do you really think she could be Lord Milligan's child?" His eyes shines with hope.
"My heart is more than sure, and it's hardly wrong." She smiles, grabbing his hands to squeeze them comfortingly. Benedict lets out a sigh of relief.
"Bring her here, brother, I know you're dying to." Anthony pats his shoulder, knowing he can't do much to stop him anyway.
And Benedict? He doesn't let him say it twice. He's basically out of the door already, running to you.
I apologise in advance because this is pure angst.
I'm really sorry, I promise it's going to be worth it ❤️
As always, let me know what you think, and if you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know❤️❤️
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You're trying to calm Ellie from another attack without success when Mrs Link enters with a warm tea.
"Here, sweetheart." She hands it to you as you keep caressing Ellie's back to bring her some kind of relief.
"Thank you." You say in a weak voice, you've been on the verge of crying since Ellie started coughing. You gently move the cup to Ellie's lips to let her have at least a sip, you force your hands not to shake, the last thing you want it for her to see how scared you are, "can you lay down? Get some sleep?"
Ellie nods, breathless, she lay down and you cover her with a blanket, stroking her hair until you can tell she's asleep.
You stand, Mrs Link didn't left and you're grateful for it.
"I don't know what to do." You admit, breath shaking as you near her.
"She needs more cures, this," she gesture to the tea, "this is not enough."
"I know... I know..." you say, "I don't know how..."
"Why don't you simply accept his money?" She asks you, genuine.
"I... I can't..." you tell her.
"But why?" She insists, you shake your head, her features soften, "my dear..."
"Because if I accept his money, if I let him pay for the time we spend together, it will mean it's not real... it will mean I'm just another naive stupid girl who believed... who believed someone..."
"Someone might love her.." Mrs Link finishes for you, taking your trembling hands in hers, "but... he does. I saw his eyes when he came here asking about you. Hopeful and happy at the possibility of finding you."
You shake you head again.
"See? That's why I can't take his money." You say, firmly, even though your voice shakes.
"Sweet girl.." she tries, but you cut her off.
"I'll ask him to lift his claim so I can work as always." You say, more to yourself, you decided.
"I don't think that's a good idea." She express, sympathy written all over her face.
"No, no, it's the right thing to do." You tell her, "I'll be able to make more money, and he... he'll be free of... whatever this is that can't even be."
Mrs. Link sighs, powerless, she's known you for a long time, she knows how stubborn you can be.
"I'm sorry to hear it." Is all she says to you before walking out.
You take a shaky breath in, but the sob that escapes you is what makes you fall to your knees.
Cursing him for listening to rumors, for being curious, for being... caring and funny and... safe.
But above all, cursing yourself for letting hope into your heart, for falling for him so easily.
--------------
Violet managed to force Benedict to spend time in the drawing room with the rest of the family, so he sits there with the rest of them... sketchbook in hands, drawing.
Violet thought it better than having him secluded somewhere else so she says nothing.
They've been talking about... a ball, Benedict guesses, though he's not interested, not one bit. He's too focused on how the hair falling on a back in his drawing could look closer to reality. Closer to you.
"Please, tell me your not drawing who I think you are drawing." Anthony's voice comes through Benedict's concentration like a bug buzzing right into his ear.
"Don't ask question if you know you won't like the answer, brother." Benedict replies, not lifting the pencil from the paper for a second.
"You sure don't need me to tell you that this behaviour would reflect on us all, right?" The Viscount smiles, a forced smile, almost warning.
"You made it plenty clear." Benedict can't help the roll of his eyes upon hearing the condescending tone his brother, often, uses.
"Then, I suggest you start listening." He tells him, and to Benedict this feels a lot like he's scolding him so he turns his head to look up.
"How about you stop pestering me and let me live, for once? He demands.
"Live?" Anthony asks, lowering his voice so their siblings won't catch on, though their mother's eyes are well aware, "frequenting brothel means living to you?"
"I told you it's more than that." Benedict specifies, annoyed.
"Of course it is..." His older brother shakes his head, no words left in him, which Benedict is grateful for, "you smudged the drawing, by the way." Benedict looks down at it, not seeing what his brother is talking about, he gives him a questioning look and Anthony point to a spot on your side. "There."
"No, that's a birthmark." He explains him.
"Always ready with an answer." He comments, thinking Benedict is simply saying it to defy anything he has to say.
"Can someone come with me to the market?" Eloise grabs everyone's attention, "I need a new set of quill."
"Benedict would be delighted." Anthony puts a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, "he needs to go out anyway."
"Perfect!" Eloise happily leave the room to grab her coat.
"I do, don't I?" Benedict dryly says, as his mother looks at him. "At least I'll be far from you." He says before leaving the room.
Violet sends her oldest a look, scolding him, Anthony answers with a defensive one.
"He needs to get his priorities straight, mother." He tells her before leaving the room as well.
--------------
You stand in front of the door, hood on so no one can see you. You're about to knock, then you're about to turn away, then about to knock again.
Is this really the right thing to do? Of course, you tell yourself, he doesn't need your troubles, he has to worry about his family. You need money for Ellie, and you can't accept his. You even brought the little pouch with the money he sneaked into your pocket, at least he thought he was being unsuspecting.
You take a very deep breath, heart pounding in your chest and about to explode.
Thoughts invading your mind, positive and negative, hopeful and destructive.
What to do?
What to do?
You knock.
You hold your breath, part of you hopes nobody answers.
They do.
You're let in.
"I'm simply looking for Benedict Bridgerton. I..." you feel your throat dry as the desert, "I need to return something to him."
"I'm afraid Mr Bridgerton is not home, miss." The maid tells you, gently.
"Oh... I... I'll come back another time." You nod, ready to get out of the house.
"Who is it?" Comes a voice from behind you.
You turn to see a woman walking towards you, looking at your face as if to place you.
"Ma'am, she said she was looking for Mr Benedict Bridgerton." The maid explains, who you know assume, to Mrs Bridgerton.
The throat is now dryer than the desert, you feel hotter too.
"Oh.." is all she says as she keeps studying you, then her eyes widen and your heart sink, "oh, come, my dear. You can wait for him with me." She offers.
"I..." you need to get out, "That is very kind, my lady, I wouldn't want to impose."
"Nonsense, come come," she then turns to the maid, "would you bring us some tea, please?"
As the maid nods and walks away, you find yourself forced to follow Mrs Bridgerton to what you assume is the main room.
"Sit, my dear." She smiles at you as she herself sits down by the table.
"Thank you." You say it so softly you're surprised she even hears you.
You sit, you start fidgeting with your hands, looking everywhere except the woman in front of you. You're looking for a distraction and yet you can't even enjoy how beautiful the room is.
You feel her watching you.
"You're her, aren't you?" You can hear the eagerness in her tone.
"I'm..." you swallow, nervously, "I'm who, ma'am?"
"Oh, the girl who managed to make my son draw again." She explains, simply, as if it was the most obvious thing.
"I... I'm..."
Thankfully the maids come I'm with tea and some sweets.
"Oh, my dear, please there's no need to be nervous." She gently offers you a cup.
You take a sip to stop the dryness in your mouth.
"Mrs Bridgerton... if you know me, you... you know what I..." you have nice idea how to acknowledge it.
"I know." She says, and the way she says it is enough to show how sorry she is.
"I'm... I'm here to talk to Ben... uh, Mr Bridgerton about something important." Ypu tell her.
"Are you with child?" She suddenly whispers, eyes wide.
"No!" You quickly assure her, "I... I can't have... have... children."
"Oh sweet girl." Her tone completely shifted to one of a comforting mother, "my apologies, I didn't know..."
"Oh, please, it's alright, my lady." You shake your head, "I'm here for a different matter."
"Did he find himself in some trouble?" She asks.
"No, no." You take another sip of your tea, "you see... in my... job, clients can lay a claim" You're so embarrassed to be discussing it with such a lady, the widow of a viscount nonetheless, "which means we are not to be accepting any other client as long as the claim is active."
"And Benedict did this," she guesses and you nod, "I don't understand though."
"I have a niece to take care of, and the money isn't enough." You explain.
"So you're here to ask for more money?" Violet starts to feel a little offended and protective, wanting to kick you out as soon as possible.
"Not at all!" You immediately clarify, "I'm here to ask him to lift said claim so I can... work."
Violet definitely didn't expect this. She blinks a few times to make sense of it.
"I still don't understand." She starts, "please forgive my assumptions, but... wouldn't you usually ask for more money?"
"I comprehend your confusion and, usually yes... but I..." you take a deep breath, glassy eyes betraying you, "I can't accept his money." You take out the little pouch of money, "I'm here, also, to give him back this, he tried to sneak it into my pocket since I... wouldn't accept it."
She takes the money from your hands, furrowed eyebrows.
"Why don't you?" She asks, though she knows the answer, and it breaks her heart when tou look away blinking away the tears forming in tour eyes, confirming such suspicions, "oh sweet child..." her own eyes start filling with tears.
Suddenly footsteps can be heard as they get closer.
"Mother, may I... oh." The viscount himself enters the room and both you and Violet stand, "who is this?"
"Well, she..." Violet doesn't know what to say, and certainly neither do you.
He looks at both of you then his attention is taken by the pouch on the table, he looks at you up and down, realisation painting his face.
You're the girl from Benedict's paintings.
"What is she doing here?" He demands his mother.
"Anthony..." Violet tries a soft tone to calm her son.
"What more could you want?" He asks you, directly now and you can't help but flinch.
"I just need to ask Mr Bridgerton..." you start.
"What? What would YOU need to ask him?" His judgement is hitting you like a brick, not that you expected anything less, but it's hard to stay silent especially given the fact that your not here to take advantage of Benedict like his brother thinks.
"I apologise, but it's a private matter, my Lord." You raise you chin up high.
"It's not private if it involves my brother's wellbeing and future." He chastises.
"Wellbeing... what?" You're suddenly confused.
"You're already ruining his life enough." He suddenly says.
"Anthony!" Violet calls him out.
"It's true, mother, don't pretend it's not." He doesn't bulge, he keeps staring daggers into your eye, "associating oneself with..." he hesitates.
"Say it." You urge him, "I know what I am."
"Then I don't need to say it, do I?"
You force a smile and turn to Violet.
"May I ask you to deliver my message to Benedict, please, Mrs Bridgerton?" You softly ask her.
"I... I don't..." she does try to argue, but your pleading eyes stop her, "of course, my dear."
"Mother, this is..."
"I decide what to do for my children, Anthony, and if you think that her disappearing all of a sudden is good for your brother I'd urge you to think again." She immediately interrupts him, her eyes fall again to you, "you're a good girl, Y/n."
"Thank you." You breath out, you can't stop the tears from forming so you quickly wipe them away.
You walk out, though your escape is cut short by a chest you bump into. Looking up you find Benedict's green eyes staring into yours, surprised.
"Hi." He says.
He came back sooner than expected, glad he had enough time to get ready to come and see you, but apparently you managed to beat him.
"Ben..." you whisper, you need to make yourself avert your eyes from his in order to tell him, "I was.. I was looking for you."
"And you found me." He smiles, behind you Violet sees with a weight in her chest the way her son is looking and smiling at you, knowing the reason you're here.
"Can we talk? Privately?" You ask, you see his eyebrow furrowing, he senses something in wring so he nods.
"Whatever she has to say to you she can say it right here." Anthony interferes, "you two won't be left alone."
You sigh, completely exasperated from the interaction with the viscount.
"Why don't you mind your own business for once, brother?" Benedict shots his a look, but his brother says nothing.
"It's alright..." you tell him so he would look at you again, you take out the little pouch again and hand it to him, "this is yours."
"You came here to give me money?" He nervously chuckles.
"Well, it is your money so..."
"But I gave it to you." He explains.
"And, as always, I'm not accepting it." You take a deep breath, tears burning in your eyes making Benedict worry, "and... I came here for another reason."
"What's wrong?" He cups your face with one hand, but you move it away, "is it Ellie?"
"No... I mean, there aren't any changes, but no, no, I'm here because..." you take a step back, force yourself to look up at him, "I'm here to ask you, to lift your claim at the brothel."
"What..?" His mind can't make sense of your words.
"I need money for Ellie, I need my usual work." You tell him.
"Just accept mine..." he steps closer, "please."
Upon hearing her son pleading voice Violet's heart breaks, even Anthony seem taken aback, so sure you were actually using his brother.
"I can't, Ben, I can't." Your voice breaks, "please, this is for the best. For the both of us. We have no future anyway..."
"And who's to say so?" He snaps, "I love you. The moment I saw you it felt like the missing piece I've been looking for my whole life, and when you spoke to me? Oh, I was sealed. Everything went into place, everything had a reason again." He cups your face again, desperate to keep you from walking away, "the very purpose of my eyes is to be upon yours, the purpose of my hands is to hold yours... my... my purpose is to be with you. Please... please, do not... do not leave me."
Your breath hitch, you can't hold back the tears any longer.
"Ben..." you whisper, you take his hand from your face, gently kiss it and let it go, you need to get out, "I'm sorry."
You rush out, not glancing at him, or anyone else as tears run freely down your face.
In the house Benedict tries to come after you, calling your name, but Anthony's hand on his shoulder stops him.
"It's better this way, Benedict." He tells him.
"Better for who? You? This family?" He abruptly turn, "because I can assure you it's not better for me."
"You'll get over it, I told you it's their job to make you believe all sort of things, you pay for them to make you feel like this," Anthony spits, "it's not real."
"Except, she's never taken my money." He shows him the pouch with the money, "so tell me, dear brother, why would she make me believe this?"
Benedict doesn't wait for an answers as he walks upstairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.
He's angry, not at you. He could never. He's furious at the situation. He finally found someone to love, someone who makes him feel like himself, and now he can't be with her because society wouldn't approve. All he'd like to do now is run after you, take you and Ellie and run away from everything.
