Richard Armitage Frustration

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The Journal - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of 97 (Complete) - First Impressions Genre:  Action Adventure, Romance, Drama Rating:  Teen+ Pairing:  Thorin/Kate Universe:  The Hobbit Movie Verse Warnings:  Character death Author:    Lady Dunla

I can almost hear your laughter as you read this. You know me all very well, so it is needless to say that there have not been many occasions when I have been struck speechless. But let me assure you, I was then. I was absolutely stunned by surprise and a lot of anger as I watched that annoying wizard more or less tell me that he had been expecting me all along. The worst thing was that none of the dwarves seemed terribly surprised either, making me suspect that there was quite a lot more to this than just me dreaming or me accidentally being chosen to spend some time in my favourite fictive world.  'What?!' I snarled…

Kate

What?!' Anyone who knew Kate knew that it was best to start searching for cover as soon as she started to speak in that particular tone. But these people didn't know her at all and none of them started to run for the hills.

'You know what you're here for, right?' one of them asked. Kate supposed he was Kíli, if the movie description got anything right. He answered his own question when she didn't. 'You're the omniscient one.'

That was just too much. 'I beg your pardon?'That at least made him a little less enthusiastic, if only a little. 

'You are, aren't you?'

Kate's intuition sparked, her head swivelling in Gandalf's direction who made a point of being very interested in his food all of a sudden, which was confirmation in and out of itself. He was behind this somehow. Apart from the fact that no one else in the present company could have pulled off such an act of magical transportation, he was looking all too guilty, just by looking so bloody innocent.

'Can someone tell me what the hell this is all about?' she exploded.

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A World That Will Not Turn to Ash - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 of 45 (complete) - Search Genre:  Action Adventure - BBC Robin Hood 2006 Rating:  Teen+ Pairing:  Guy of Gisborne/Marian Warnings:  Depiction of graphic violence. Author:    @ilariaeugealtomasini

Guy leaned against the wall of the cave and he closed his eyes for a moment to avert a sense of vertigo. He walked only a few steps to get to the entrance of the cave, and yet he felt so weak that he had the impression of being on the verge of losing consciousness.  He allowed himself a kind of wry smile at the idea: in those last days he had been unconscious for so long that passing out again wouldn't be hardly new. He opened his eyes and he took another step, just enough to look out, and he was forced to shield them with his hand, dazzled by sunlight.  He crawled out of the cave and looked around, trying to figure out where he was: around him there were only trees and bushes. In the distance he could hear the murmur of the river and the sound of it made his stomach tighten, reminding him the time when he had been dragged to the edge of the precipice and they tried to put the noose around his neck, with the river that was raging at the bottom of the cliff. A hand touched his shoulder and Guy screamed in terror. He made a sudden movement to escape that contact, but he lost his balance and fell to the ground, gasping in pain.

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The Shepherd - bonus

The Shepherd - drabble: Ravishment Genre:  Action Adventure - BBC Robin Hood 2006 Rating:  fluff Pairing:  Guy of Gisborne/Genevieve Universe:  Manna From Heaven by Zeesmuse Warnings:  fluffiest fluffs Author:    @zeesmuse

She was waddling and it made him smile.

Of course, with waddling came swollen ankles, poor sleeping habits, going to the toilet at all hours of the day and night. There were the strange cravings, back aches, crying jags – oh dear Jesu, she cried at everything! When she was sad, happy, frustrated. Guy had never seen a human being cry as much as Genevieve did.

He took that back. Vivienne cried with all of her pregnancies. She cried because they weren’t married, she cried when they did get married.

But of course, Vivienne was Genevieve.

This was Genevieve’s third and final pregnancy. This one had been more difficult than when she was expecting Ghislaine and Ghislaine’s birth had been difficult. This C-Section was planned, three weeks away. Guy’s vasectomy was planned as well, although Genevieve didn’t know it yet. Unlike her first pregnancy, she was willing to hand over the reins of her architectural firm to her office manager, Val Oelle, who, alright fine, was an angel, as in wings and halo angel, and an office staff hand-picked and capable of many things.

Including verbally assaulting a former architect, who attempted a hostile take-over of Genevieve’s firm, but who remembered that silly thing?

She had reached the phase of her pregnancy where she was at a low point in her self-esteem. She lumbered, she wasn’t feeling very attractive, not realizing or understanding that right now, Guy thought she was most beautiful. She glowed, she… she was gorgeous.

And it was Valentine’s Day and he wanted her to know just how much he needed her; how much he desired her, cherished her.

She chose that moment to plod through the family room, with a basket of laundry on her hip.

“We have a maid for that, Genevieve.”

“Yes, I know, but she’s left for the day and I didn’t want the kids clothes to wrinkle.”

“Roger could care less if his pajamas are wrinkled. Put that down. Come here.”

With a sigh, Genevieve set basket down on the ottoman and waddled over to her husband. “Yes, Master?”

Guy shook his head and patted his lap. “'Tis not very convincing when you roll your eyes, mon petite. Sit.”

“I’ll squish things.”

Guy’s eyes went stormy gray. “Pray tell, you did not just denigrate yourself.”

With a much put-out huff, she slowly and not so gracefully lowered herself on those long legs of sex. “There. How’s that?”

Guy pulled her close, his nose in the crook of her neck. “Where are the children?” he breathed. He found that special spot behind her ear.

“Uhm… they’re… they’re in the upstairs rumpus room, watching Zootopia.” Genevieve felt him smile against her neck. “Roger thinks Gizelle is … hawt.” His tongue found her earlobe.

“My son has good taste. So, they will be busy for a while?”

“Hmm hmmm. Put your tongue back in my ear. I’ll do anything.”

Guy quickly complied. “I am the Dom. You will do what I tell you.” His arm found his way under her maternity top, fingers stroking stretched skin. “Today is Valentine’s Day. I am going to ravish you.” His tongue began to do just that to her neck. Her own hands found their way beneath his shirt.

Heated palms on heated skin.

“Okay, Guy. Sounds like a plan.”

Guy’s eyes opened. That sounded a bit…not right… too perky, in fact.

“After,” she chirped happily, “we get the kids fed, and I pee, their faces washed, dishes put away, and I pee again, start another load of laundry, then bath time, I pee some more, their teeth brushed, Ghislaine will insist on a sippy cup and then a story-”

The Black Knight took a close look at his wife. She was exhausted, the pregnancy bearing down her. Aye, he wanted to ravish her, but she needed a ravishment of a different sort. “You know,” Guy whispered, his mind whirling, “if we get them to bed, we could watch Zootopia without interruption.”

“You would be drooling all over Gizelle.”

Guy pulled back in mock disgust. “Please. She is hot, but not as hot or as sexy as the woman in my lap,” he stroked her belly, relishing the responding thump to his hand, “who is the most beautiful woman I know, cartoon or real!”

“Even Jessica Rabbit?”

“Especially Jessica Rabbit!”

Her husband was not the most verbal when it came to romance, so Genevieve knew how much the compliment meant. “God invented Cheesie poofs for a reason. Make it ‘The Secret Life of Pets’ and you’re on.”

And so Guy and Genevieve FitzGisborne, spent a ravishing Valentine’s evening, after the kids were in bed, cuddled up on the couch, watching kid vids and eating Doritos.

Cool Ranch.

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Raising Nemo CH 14

Please tag: Into the Storm, Gary Fuller, Richard Armitage, zeesmuse, fanfiction, chapter fic.

Chapter 14 of ? Genre:  Romance, drama Rating:  Explicit later Pairing:  Gary/Deidre Universe:  Into The Storm Author:    @zeesmuse

“This…” Hailey stared at the picture in her hand, “…wow. This is scary.”

Deidre sat at the small table in the employee break room, hands wrapped around a vending machine coffee cup. “It was a great evening. And I came home to…” she nodded to the picture Hailey held, “that taped to the door.”

“Have you called the police?”

“No. Why? What are they going to do?”

Hailey tried again. “Have you told Gary?”

“No.” Deidre dropped her head. “I’m trying to decide should I tell him I’m leaving or if I should just disappear.”

“DISAPPEAR?” Hailey set the photo down, away from Deidre and pulled out her cell. Her thumb began to fly over the pad. “Oh no. I don’t think so!”

Deidre was paying no attention. “I guess I should a give a week’s notice. Or a few days.” She looked up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Rick.”

“But-”

“Look!” She slammed her phone down and planted both fists on the table, rocking the cheap coffee cup. “You have run for too long. I know Todd’s an ass, but the two of you are divorced and you have a right to a life.” She softened her tone. “Guys like Gary don’t come along every day.” She pulled the chair in front of her out and sank into it. She attempted to change her cousin’s mind. “Speaking of, how was your date with Gary this weekend?”

Deidre immediately relaxed. “It was… wonderful.”

Hailey immediately knew what that meant. “That good?”

“Oh yeah.” She took a sip of the coffee. “He’s wonderful. So wonderful.” She set the cup down and looked at Hailey. “I don’t want to leave. I’d like to see where this goes, but I don’t want to see what happened to Stephen, happen to him.”

“Stephen got his job back?”

“Yeah, but-”

“You want to know what I think? I’m going to tell you what I think!” This caused Deidre to giggle. “I think you need to tell Gary about Todd and the shit he’s been known to pull. Let him decide. Either he’ll stand with you or he’ll offer to help you pack and I’ll lose all respect for him. I think he’ll stand with you. Forewarned is warned.”

“You mean, forewarned is forearmed.” Deidre was shaking her head. “It’s just so much baggage.”

“Anyone over the age of two has baggage! And forewarned is warned!” Hailey’s cellphone rang and she picked it up. “Rick? Hey sexy. Deidre’s got a problem and I think she needs to call the police.” Silence. “Someone left an ugly picture on her front door Sunday morning. I think it’s a threat. Wanna take a look?” Squawking on the other end. “Good boy. When do you go on duty? Really? Well come at around 12:30 and Deidre and I will take you to lunch.” She set the phone down. “Rick will know what to do.”

~~~…~~~

Rick understood Deidre’s concern, but stated the picture, while creepy, could be nothing more than some kids with too much time on their hands. He then, along with Hailey, spent the rest of lunch talking Deidre into staying put.

“Every time you run, it empowers whoever is doing this.” Rick was lording over the pizza at the pizzeria the three were at. “At the same time, you’re pretty far away from the East Coast. Richmond?” Deidre nodded. “Silverton is a long way from Richmond, Virginia. Either someone has time off or like I said, kids with nothing better to do.” He pulled a slice from the pie and proceeded to shake a ton of red crushed bell pepper all over the slice. “If you really like this guy, I suggest you be upfront with him. Show him the picture. Play it off as kids. Like Hailey said, he’ll stand with you or he won’t and if he won’t, well that’s one loser you won’t get attached to and really don’t need in your life.”

To which quietly, Deidre agreed. “I guess I need to have a talk with Gary next time I see him.”

She didn’t expect the opportunity to present itself as soon as she got back to work.

~~~…~~~

“Fancy meeting you here.” Gary was all smiles. He was dressed in a suit and tie, so obviously, he’d just come from church. He had a cart with the largest bag of Puppy Chow made sitting in it and Nemo sitting obediently at his heel on a leash.

There was no peeing.

Deidre’s smile was genuine. “You know, if you add more bags of food to the cart, you won’t have to make so many trips.”

Gary leaned over and whispered in her ear. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see the really sexy and hot pet store assistant manager outside of the allotted puppy play dates and date-dates.” He noticed her smile drooped a bit, which concerned him. “Is something wrong?”

Hailey stood behind him mouthing ’Tell him!’

Deidre’s smile was sad. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Hailey threw her hands in the air and turned on her heel, stalking off around the aisle.

Deidre watched her cousin storm off and sighed. “Some kids went through the neighborhood last night and defaced a few doors.” Gary nodded in understanding. “It was taken care of it pretty quick. Nothing really to worry about.”

Gary was still nodding. “Too much unsupervised time on their hands.”

She was quick to agree. “Yeah. That’s all. No biggie.”

For some reason, Gary had a feeling that she wasn’t telling him the complete truth. Their relationship was new and fresh and she probably didn’t want to burden him with what she considered something minor. Some women were naturally independent, but down inside, Gary wanted her to feel free to confide in him. Hopefully, that would come. But right this minute…

“My schedule next week is going to be pretty bleak. A lot of reviewing, the kids tend to be pretty wound up just before and after a long break. Symphonic band concert, orchestra concert, choral concert, just craziness.”

Deidre took in the tired smile. “Are you saying you won’t be at the dog park this week?”

“Not on evenings you’ll be there, no,” he admitted. “So, would you like to have dinner tonight?”

Deidre’s grin split her face when she realized he wasn’t writing her off, now that they had had sex. “That would be great. Where do you want to go?”

Gary began to stroll down the aisle, Deidre and Nemo in tow. “Well, there is the great Chinese restaurant my boys love. They call it ‘The House of the Windy Chairs’.”

~~~…~~~

The House of the Windy Chairs still had windy chairs and the two so-called adults shared a lot of giggles over the crude sounds they made as they sat and moved around.

“Crazy week coming up?”

Gary put his chopsticks down. “Oh yeah. And administration has to attend all those functions.”

“It’s important to the kids that you’re there, even if you don’t think it is. I remember being in chorus and the lights going up and seeing not only my family in the audience, but our principal and vice-principal.” Deidre wasn’t as adept with chopsticks as Gary was, so she was still chasing lo-mien noodles around the plate trying to pick one up. “I’m going to lose weight this way.”

“Here.” Gary took the chopsticks from her and neatly wound the noodles around the sticks, before picking them up, feeding her. Once her mouth was full, he opened the subject that had been bothering him all afternoon. “What kind of graffiti did the neighborhood kids leave on your door?”

Deidre’s mouth was engaged with food, for which she was grateful. It gave her time to formulate an answer that didn’t encourage a long-lasting lie. “Oh, just the usual.” She shrugged. “Someone thinks I’m a whore.”

Gary sat up taller. “That’s disgusting! Are you sure it was a random, senseless kid thing?” He stabbed her plate with her chopsticks, starting to angrily swirl lo-mien noodles again. “Did you call the police?”

Deidre snarled. “The police were called. They said random, senseless kid thing.” She looked at him. “Can we just forget about it and you can put that food in my mouth?” she implored. “See, I have forgotten about i-”

At that moment, she found her mouth stuffed with lo-mien. “I have a favor to ask.” Deidre nodded. “My sons are coming home for Christmas weekend after next. I have to go get them on Saturday. I would like to let them know I’ve met someone I like. Are you okay with that?” Deidre nodded affirmatively. “I also have a special Christmas gift for them and I can’t keep it at the house. My friends, with the exception of you, have kids who are friends with them, so the secret would not be kept very well. Can I stash it at your place?”

Deidre swallowed and nodded. “Sure. What is it?”

Gary grinned. “Something I should have gotten a year or two ago.”

~~~…~~~

Advanced Honors Chorus had a soprano who, in Gary’s esteemed opinion, would have impressed Laurel. His ears rang all night.

Better ringing than bleeding.

The piccolo player in the symphonic band had a similar effect on his aural system. At least, the jazz band segment was enjoyable. Orchestra was better than in years past, which wasn’t saying much.

Silverton High was barreling towards Christmas break, as were the other schools, Gary suspected. He wondered if it was as crazy elsewhere as it was here? Student dress styles were getting weirder. It occurred to Gary to ask his sons why students insisted on wearing parkas and gloves and earmuffs with shorts and flip flops. Or shorts and fur-lined Uggs. Many teachers were pre-testing for finals, collecting data again for study guides to go home for Christmas that most students would toss, ignore or not look at until 8PM the day before they returned.

Between school and activities and Christmas shopping and what to get Deidre, because, yes he did want to get something for Deidre, at the very least for her allowing him to keep the boys Christmas present at her place…

She was hiding something. She was wary and skittish.

And Gary had the urgent need to figure it out and fix it, but he didn’t know where to start. Much less what to ask. So he kept quiet and waited.

Carol’s parents had not let up since Thanksgiving, demanding time over the Christmas holidays with the boys. They expected Gary to just snatch them up and bring them, leave them for an unspecified amount of time, because he sure wasn’t invited. The boys wouldn’t talk to them, and it was Gary’s fault.

Finally, time wound down, school closed for the long holiday, and Gary and Deidre were enjoying an overdue night for adult entertainment. They had 'done’ dinner-

Really, Gary, doing dinner. Who 'does’ dinner? You eat dinner-

-at a nice and moderately-priced Italian restaurant in Tulsa. He intended to pick up the boys the next day and he expected the discussions to be highly animated. They returned to Deidre’s, picked up Brutus, dropped off the gift Gary was hiding from his sons, went to Gary’s house and had a lovely evening that started with a bottle of wine, an exchange of gifts, (a very nice silver picture frame that enhanced Gary’s new family room décor and a very pretty heart necklace that looked lovely resting on Deidre’s cleavage) and ended in Gary’s bed. Early the next morning, they found Brutus and Nemo wrapped up and cuddled in Nemo’s bed, which, as per Deidre’s prediction, Nemo was almost grown out of.

“You’re off to pick up your boys?”

“Yes and I’ll see you before Christmas!”

~~~…~~~

Trey was talking a mile a minute. School was great, classes were great, friends were great.

His roommate and brother was NOT great, but he was dealing with the pain in the a—- appendix!

Donnie was not talking. He had ear buds in, one arm around Nemo and the other hand texting. Probably Katelyn.

“Is he still with Katelyn?” Gary whispered.

Trey nodded. “But they argue more than not. Like I said, Donnie is not doing great. I don’t know why he bothers. I would have dumped her a long time ago.”

“Are you talking about me?” Donnie sat with a head cocked, one ear bud dangling scant centimeters from his ear.

“No.” Even Gary knew when to keep his mouth shut. He knew his son. Donnie would come to him, maybe. Eventually. “We need to talk about a few things.”

“Good or bad?”

Gary made a moue. “One of each. What would you have first?”

Trey snarled. “Oh, get the bad out of the way first.”

Gary looked in the mirror to the back seat. “Donnie?”

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement. “Get the bad out of the way.”

Gary took a deep breath. “Pick an afternoon to spend with your mom’s parents.” A wailing duet rose up. “Hey, you skipped Thanksgiving, I’ve had nothing but whining from them at all hours. Just go and get it over with. I’ll even lend you the car. Go at noon, tell them you have to leave by four because you have hot dates or friends are getting together and it’s been planned.”

“Can you co-”

“I’m not invited,” Gary responded quickly. “I don’t like it and they don’t like me. But remember, you are all the family they have.”

“Yeah,” Trey groused. “We should be nice. Someday, we’ll inherit.”

“When pigs fly,” Donnie grumbled.

“I never said that,” Gary whispered, his eyes grimly fixed on the road. “Don’t tell them I told you that.”

“Bad attitude, Donnie!”

“So, what’s the good news, dad?”

Finally, Gary smiled, something that was not lost on his sons. “Oh, I’ve sort of met someone.”

The SUV was rocked with the cheer.

~~~…~~~

They asked a thousand questions. Who was she, what was her name, where did you meet her, is she a teacher, what does she do, was it a blind date, hey dad is this the woman that you talked about at Thanksgiving, when do we get to meet her, are you getting married?

Wha-?

Donnie asked the most important question. “Does Nemo like her?”

“Nemo loves her.”

“Well then,” he nodded affirmatively, “I already like her!”

Nemo chuffed once in agreement.

Which brought on the next round of questions.

Gary just smiled and continued driving.

Ah, the chaos of home.

~~~…~~~

Donnie commandeered the car that evening and went out with Katelyn. As he had during Thanksgiving, he came home at a reasonable hour quiet, withdrawn. Nemo returned to the foot of Donnie’s bed, much as he had during Thanksgiving as well.

The boys’ friends roamed in and out of the Fuller house at will. They threw away more pizza boxes and take out than was healthy. As requested, they spent an afternoon at the Tulsa Zoo. Gary watch Donnie very closely, how he relaxed, took everything in. Trey was all over the place, like a preschooler again and again and again.

On the 23rd, the boys spent the afternoon with their grandparents. Gary had lunch with Deidre and in Nemo’s mind, smelled of happy when he came home.

Both of his sons came home sullen and snarling; definitely not in the Christmas Spirit. Even Trey, who was normally sunny and perky, was growling. Their father considered asking, but figured they would come to him when they were ready. He had learned not to push when it came to either one of them. They were no longer boys, children, but young adults, learning to make their own way.

Andy Whitetail’s grandmother brought over a huge pot of home made potato soup. It was sort of a tradition for her to do such and Gary and his boys were grateful for the home-cooked meal. Gary’s cooking skills were rudimentary, but they had survived for years. The three of them sat around the table, concentrating on the hot meal, made and given in love. The lights on the tree and the house were on and Trey found a radio station playing Christmas carols. It was obvious he was trying to create a calming atmosphere, one that wasn’t working. The boys tempers were at a boiling level and Gary was aware that the explosion was coming.

“I don’t want to see them again.”

Gary’s spoon stopped in mid-rise. “I’m sorry?”

Donnie set his spoon down forcefully. “I said, I do not want to see them again. I told them so.”

Gary’s glance slid to Trey. Trey shrugged and finished his bite. “Yeah. We’re both pretty fed up.”

Gary set his spoon down and took a deep breath. While there was much bad blood between Gary and his former in-laws, he never spoke ill of them to his sons. Carol’s parents had a right to a relationship with their only grandchildren and even after Carol’s death, he never denied them access to the boys. “Care to enlighten me?”

Donnie glared at Trey. Again Trey shrugged. “Might as well. They’ll call him, anyway.”

“I’m tired of them!” Once started, Donnie’s tirade poured forth like a burst dam. “I’m tired of them calling me ten times a day. I’m tired of them acting as if we owe them-”

“Aw.” Trey was glared at for that.

“I’m tired of the attempted bribes, them demanding we live with them, I’m tired of…” and with this he trailed off, no sound in the house, save 'Silent Night’. “I’m tired of them dissing you. I’m tired them insulting you, your job.”

“I told them you were a better cook than mom,” Trey chimed in.

Gary never moved. “Anything else?”

“I told them mom had an affair. She didn’t just leave you! She left us! She left all of us! Every time I stop being mad at her, they start up and I get mad at her all over again. They won’t let it rest!”

“Bribes?”

“Yeah,” Trey piped up. “They said if we move in, they’ll pay for our college-”

“I have your college taken care of.”

“We know that. They know that. They also promised us a car!”

Gary’s eyebrows went up. “You turned down a car?”

“Don’t really want Gramps old Land Yacht Lincoln,” Donnie admitted. “We left early and checked out a few car lots.”

Gary resumed eating his soup. “Can either one of you afford a car?”

Gary didn’t miss the look that passed between his sons. “We figure if we pool our money, we can get something decent, that’s only a few years old.”

“We can share the car. We’ve even figured out a schedule already. It will only be for a year or two. Maybe three.”

“BJ spends his life under his car trying to keep it running.”

“So do some of our friends at college.”

“Makes me glad you made us take mechanics in high school.”

Gary smiled as he returned to his meal. “Tell you what. After Christmas, we’ll go car shopping.”

Chatter between the boys resumed, their demanding grandparents forgotten, for now.

But Gary knew he was going to have to sit down with them. His boys were young adults, and stretching their independent wings, but he was still their father and perhaps it was time to have that discussion with Carol’s parents he didn’t want to have and put off for far too long.

~~~…~~~

It was late, very late and both boys and Nemo were piled in front of the television playing video games. The carols had been turned off and the sounds of electronic sci fi machine guns and Nemo snoring were the only sounds in the house. Gary sat on the couch, watching, plotting.

The phone rang.

It startled everyone, including Nemo, who no doubt was dreaming of chasing Brutus and winning for a change. The boys paused the game. “Who could be calling this late?”

“Only one way to find out.” Gary peered over the back of the couch to check the caller id. “Brian. Why is Brian calling so late?” He reached for the handset. “Hey, Brian! What’s up?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” Gary responded. “What’s up?”

“I hate to call but…” there was a pause. Gary could tell Brian was upset. “But Ed Stratham had a massive stroke this afternoon.”

Gary almost dropped the phone. “How bad?”

“Bad. Serious, as in we don’t know if he’ll make it. They’ve flown him to Memorial in Oklahoma City.”

Gary’s mind began to spin. “His wife. Is anyone with his wife?”

“They’ve called the kids in and Sandy got their dog to sit while they are there.”

Both boys were staring wide eyed. Even Nemo could tell this was serious business. “Anything I can do?”

“Besides pray? No. Uhm… just one thing.”

“Yeah, what?”

“I’m calling you, the superintendent is calling Titus. You are being transferred immediately. He’s named you principal of Ed’s elementary school.”

tbc

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Together - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 of 23 (ongoing) - Waiting Genre:  Action Adventure - AU based on The Hobbit movie verse Rating:  Mature Pairing:  Thorin/Leah Warnings:  Character death, some chapters explicit Author:    @fizzy-custard

Gandalf was direct to Thorin that whilst he was still investigating further, both Thorin and Leah would remain there, in the flat. Growling under his breath, Thorin had been pulled back by Leah. She placed her hand on his arm. “Thorin,” she said softly. “Let Gandalf do what he needs to do.” He looked at her with those beautiful eyes she'd seen so many times in her dreams, and then he nodded his head, trusting her judgement.

“Thank you, my dear,” Gandalf said, smiling. “I shall return as soon as I can. Be ready for Fili and Kili also, and then we shall all leave in two days time at the strike of nine.”

As Thorin closed the door, Leah could see the deep concern and dread in his face. “What's wrong?” she asked.

“Azog was the one who killed my grandfather...and killed me. He shall stop at nothing if he knows I'm alive. And I fear he'll try to get to you, too. And there's Fili and Kili; none of you are safe. We cannot leave this world knowing that they're here.” Thorin hissed. “He is a servant of the Dark One, Leah.”

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The Journal - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of 97 (Complete) - Uprooted Genre:  Action Adventure, Romance, Drama Rating:  Teen+ Pairing:  Thorin/Kate Universe:  The Hobbit Movie Verse Warnings:  Character death Author:    Lady Dunla

My dearest children, I don't even need to ask you if you know about my adventures when I was younger.   I know you do.   You can probably recall the facts as well as I do, because you grew up with the stories of the quest, the retaking of Erebor, and the legendary Battle of the Five Armies.  You played it out when you were young and learned about it in your history lessons.

There is, however, always more to a story than just the facts and those details are not as well-known as some of you might think.   And as the time passes, I keep wondering if more and more if it is right that they should be forgotten, when they were so important to the story as a whole.   So, right now I do have some time to myself and I finally decided to pick up a quill and tell the entire story to you, for you to read and determine what to do with it.

My part in this particular adventure did not, as you have always been told, start with a coincidental meeting at a certain hobbit's house.   In fact, it began quite unexpectedly a few hours earlier, in another world, when a woman in her early twenties was making a run to a rendezvous point ...

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A World That Will Not Turn to Ash - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 of 45 (complete) - Legacy Genre:  Action Adventure - BBC Robin Hood 2006 Rating:  Teen+ Pairing:  Guy of Gisborne/Marian Warnings:  Depiction of graphic violence. Author:    @ilariaeugealtomasini

Marian's horse galloped and for a moment the pleasure of the ride with the wind in her hair banished all other thoughts. Her horse was fast, but he had a soft and secure step, and he always gave her the impression that she could fly. Guy gave her the horse as a present when he was still convinced he could win her heart with expensive gifts that she regularly ignored. That one was perhaps the only gift that she had truly loved and that made her feel grateful to him. But now to think of Gisborne and his clumsy attempts to please her, made Marian feel sad and that feeling hushed the joyful emotion she always felt when riding at full gallop. Keep Reading

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Together - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of 23 (ongoing) - Fear Genre:  Action Adventure - AU based on The Hobbit movie verse Rating:  Mature Pairing:  Thorin/Leah Warnings:  Character death, some chapters explicit Author:    @fizzy-custard

Thorin knew that their departure was imminent; Gandalf would be back in two days, hopefully with Fili and Kili. There was only so much that Thorin could think about at the moment – if he allowed himself to become burdened with finding his nephews as well, he'd self destruct.

Leah got up from the sofa and quickly put her clothing back on, a hint of shame coming through in her actions. Thorin frowned, sensing it. “What's wrong?” he asked, getting up from the warmth of the sofa and standing in front of her. “Never be ashamed in front of me.”

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Aside from Heaven -  Chapter 4H

Chapter 4H of ? - Got Money, Just Tell Me What You Want Me to Do Genre:  Action Adventure - BBC Robin Hood 2006 Rating:  Explicit at times Pairing:  Guy of Gisborne/Genevieve Universe:  Manna From Heaven by Zeesmuse Warnings:  Depiction of graphic violence. Author:    @zeesmuse

Vivienne shot up, gasping for air and hearing her own breath.

It’s a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare.

Putting her hands to her side, she heard and felt the crunching of leaves, confirming she wasn’t in her bed. The very air was dank, the smell of the earth, wet and biting. She was watching her own breath when something caught her eye. Slowly, she looked to her left to see the body of her father lying peacefully dead on the ground.

She was living her nightmare.

One minute, she was sitting in the dirt on the forest floor, looking at the ridiculously pale body of her father; the next she was up, stepping backwards, moving away. She heard voices, angry voices, and she knew they were hunting her. Quickly, she turned, running, her nightgown tripping her, getting in her way. Her anger at the restrictiveness of her garment was obvious and with her next step, her clothing changed to unfamiliar trousers made of a rough blue material and a loose tunic. She was no longer barefoot, but wearing comfortable leather shoes with strange ties and padded insoles. The forest was dark, barely enough light to see and the branches switched and whipped her face and arms as she raced past.

She realized she had company, something keeping up and running alongside of her. Swerving around a large tree, she took a quick glance. There, some feet to her right, was Her Wolf. She called him hers as she had had this dream many times since she was a young child. She would go months, a year or two without having it and then, all of a sudden, the dreams came back, along with the wolf.

Initially, she had been terrified of him. He was huge, large, stayed in the shadows, but as time went, she grew less and less afraid, considered him a bystander or a guardian of sorts. He always kept his distance and when he ran with her, whatever chased her, faded away swiftly.

Abruptly, there was silence. The voices, the crowd, was gone. It was just her.

And the wolf.

In the filtered moonlight, she stopped and turned, looked at him for the first time, still panting from exertion. ‘Who are you?’

Silence.

'Who are you?’

The wolf stepped from the edge of the mist and cocked his head. For the first time, he was not just shadow, he had form. He was large, even for a wolf, with a long, pointed snout. His coat was an inky black, with a grey streak along one ear. Something about him was familiar. She shook her head.

'Who are you? What do you want with me?’

The wolf sat down, eyes tightly shut and still shaking his head.

Finally, she took in her, their surroundings, gazing at this strange glade she was unfamiliar with. It was beautiful, peacefully quiet and while she had never seen this place, she felt she knew it, knew the pond, the stream. She had been here before. She refocused her attention on the wolf in front of her, waiting for her.

'Do you bite?’ In the echo of the silence, she heard… snickering? Why would a wolf laugh at her?

She felt no fear of this beast, regardless of the danger he presented to anyone else. Slowly, she stepped forward, hand out-stretched, fingers searching. 'You won’t bite me, will you? Do you have a name, big guy?’

She reached for him. The wolf stood fast, watching her, oh so very much watching her. Paying no heed to his mouth, she dropped to her knees and touched the side of his head, cupping him beneath the ear, and sinking her fingers into his fur. In that moment, he leaned into her, her hand, cherishing her touch, relishing her nearness. As he relaxed, she saw his face, saw him. He opened his eyes.

They were blue. Blue as glass…

~~~…~~~

“Who won’t bite?”

Vivienne’s eyes flew open. She sat up, disoriented, eyes searching. Finally, she focused on the speaker. “Hugh?”

Hugh FitzGisborne sat next to her on her bed. He greatly favored his father, save that he smiled more than the austere brute she screamed at. “I came the moment I heard. I am so sorry about your father. I had much respect for Simon. I know the two of you were close.” He inspected his hands, not the smooth things of a courtier, but calloused and rough from wielding a sword. “I’ve sent a messenger to Fulks. I suspect he’ll be here by tomorrow evening at the soonest.” He reached for her and pulled her into a friendly and comforting embrace.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You are like a sister to us.” Hugh squeezed her once before turning her loose and grasping her by the shoulders to look at her. “He would be most upset if I had not.”

Vivienne began to cry. “The two of you hated me growing up.”

“You were a pest, just like a sister would be a pest,” he responded with a laugh. “Now, who will not bite?” Dawning overcame him as he took in her ashamed look. “You have been having dreams again.”

“Please, do not speak of it. People will think I am strange.”

“You are strange,” Hugh took her back into a protective embrace, cradling her head to his shoulder. “I cannot wait for you to meet Ellienna. She has been very closeted and will need a friend. You will like her.”

“Is there something I should know about?”

Vivienne attempted to pull back, but Hugh held her fast. “She had a bad dream, father.”

William walked into the room. “A dream?”

“'Tis nothing. I am fine.” Vivienne moved to untangle herself from her friend’s embrace. For some odd reason, the Lord of Locksley made her hot and uncomfortable. It was if the room was charged with thunder and lightning. “Just a dream.” She straightened her dress. “I should see to my father’s body.”

“No need.” William’s voice was like rock on granite. “It has been taken care of.”

“But I should go down-”

“No you should not. There is no need,” he reiterated tersely. “It was an honor to have Simon as part of my entourage. I considered him a close friend and I cannot replace him. I am sitting with him, along with several of my senior knights. I have made the arrangements for his burial. You should rest.” He then addressed his eldest. “I have received word Fulks is on his way. He will be here tomorrow afternoon.” He stepped further into the room. “Your father left instructions for you, for your welfare. We will discuss them later.” He then nodded to his son. “Stay with Ge-… with Vivienne.”

As he turned to leave, Vivienne noticed his eyes and profile were those of her wolf.

~~~…~~~

The following weeks were a haze to Vivienne. Her father’s wake, mass was sung for him at the chapel in Nottingham. She had to argue to have him buried next to his wife; it appeared some felt he should be buried with honor at Kirkley’s.

Fulks arrived from Harridston – and stayed. When they were younger, he had been a dark, sullen child, looking like his mother – or so people said – but since his return from France, he was relaxed, happier. He spent much time with Vivienne at the creek, fishing and laughing, before his father sent him to Harridston to take control of his mother’s estate the previous year. He took up much space and time at her table, which she was grateful for, especially those first few weeks. She liked to cook and he liked to eat.

“Did your father’s men ever find the one villain in the gang that got away?” She was talking about the group that attacked Lord William’s entourage.

“Yes. They killed him in their pursuit of him, so we do not know who set them on my father’s knights. 'Tis strange.” It was a painful subject; Vivienne was still grieving, so he changed it abruptly, not realizing this new topic was equally sore to her. “You know, your father left guardianship to my father when he passed.” He lifted the pheasant bone he was gnawing on. “This is good. You will make someone a good wife. Father will chose well for you. I will make sure of it.”

“I do not desire to be anyone’s wife. I have lived here all of my life and I do not wish to leave.”

“That might be true,” he returned his attention to the plate in front of him, “and you had your father wrapped around your finger, but my father will not be so easily swayed. Ah, now here is an idea!” He dropped the bone to the plate, causing it to rattle and echo throughout the home. “You can marry me! You can plant your healer herbs, keep my peasants healthy and feed me! I shall be a happy lord of a lovely, if humble manse and you will be my lady!”

“Fulks,” Vivienne began to pick up the plates from the table. “We are no longer children.”

“Thank Jesu!”

“And you are like a brother to me. You and Hugh.”

“True again, but-”

“And I am not noble born. Your father will want someone besides a lowly knight’s daughter for you to wive.”

“Damnation. I completely forgot!” Fulks’ dejection was humorous. “That is true as well.” He leaned back in his chair. “Father will find me a nice heiress with no male relatives. Her wealth and property will become mine and my income will grow.” He smiled joyously and toasted her with his mead. “'Tis the FitzGisborne way!”

“Exactly.” Fulks watched as her hips swayed to the sideboard. When had scrawny, gangling Vivienne grown up? And into such a beauty?

An unholy thought occurred to him. “You know, if Father was so inclined, I would suggest you become his mistress.”

There was a crash as Vivienne dropped the plates. “Wot?”

“However,” he merrily rambled on, without taking breath, “he has never taken a mistress, much less any servant girl to his bed, since he married.” He rose from the table and retrieved the broom from the corner. “So I would not worry of such, if I were you.”

As of late, Vivienne’s dreams had been filled with her wolf and the Lord of Locksley, all of them heated and filled with desire. They bothered her, left her with unspoken yearnings. Shaking off this uncomfortable feeling, she held the dustpan out for Fulks, taking the broom from him. As she began to sweep, she muttered, “Why on earth would you suggest such a thing?”

“Because you are a woman and you cannot stay here alone.” He bent down as she swept the shards of pottery into the pan. “And do not tell me that you can. You are alone and vulnerable. And truth be told, I would rather see you with a man who would take good care of you, than married to an old man away from here.”

“And you think your father would be good to me?” Vivienne smirked. “Would be perfect for me in every way, save he is married.”

Fulks became strangely quiet and soft spoken. “My mother calls my father a demon. Satan’s Spawn. I have heard rumors that he is a wicked, evil man and that Death answers to him. None of this is true. My father is a good man. I have heard stories from the servants in his manse of how he took in Queen Isabella when old Edward was still alive and had his steward’s wife care for her injuries she received at the hands of the Despensers. How he kept her hid. I have watched how he treats his servants, how he cares and loves Hugh and myself. During the famine, none of us starved or went hungry. The man may be many things, but he is not evil or wicked.” Suddenly, Fulks was standing over her, the heat of him over-powering. “He would the most powerful protector you could possibly wish for. No one would accost you for fear of angering him. You would want for nothing.” He stepped away and looked at the modest home, suddenly aware of the class and monetary differences between him and his friend. “I am sorry you broke your plates. I will replace them.” Moving towards the coat rack, he pulled his great woolen cloak from the peg and began to button it around him. “It will be dark soon and it is cold. I should be going. I will be back tomorrow.”

“There is no need, Fulks. I can go to the market.”

“Then I will go to market with you. I want chicken tomorrow for dinner and I wish to make sure you get a plump, fat hen and not a scrawny rooster.”

Vivienne smiled and shook her head. “You are incorrigible.” A thought occurred to her. “Fulks?”

“Aye?”

“You seem much… happier than you did in years past. What happened? Have you fallen in love?”

He stared at her, took her in, before his smile fell. “Something did happen.”

“What was that? We are friends. You can tell me.”

In an instant, he became the sullen child he had been before Sir William sent him to France. “My mother. I stopped caring about my mother.”

And with that, he opened the door and stepped into the sunset.

~~~…~~~

She was standing in front of two ornate doors and dressed strangely in an opulent red gown. She realized her hands were full of fall roses.

Be happy, Genevieve. He loves you so.

Vivienne jerked to look at the voice. The woman was of an age, blonde and beautiful in her maturity.

No, my name is Vivienne.

She faded away.

Be happy, Genevieve…

The doors opened.

It was a chapel and her wolf stood with the priest, waiting.

She was at the last pew, a sanctuary full of nuns,

Lord William… no, he was dressed… wrong…

She was moving in fast forwarded jerks.

The wolf.

Forward

Lord… William?

Genevieve Faith Robinson, do you take Guy Crispin Gisborn to be your lawfully wedded husband…

Spinning….

Be happy, Genevieve…

~~~…~~~

It was the most opulent, extravagant dinner Vivienne had ever sat down to. It made her damned uncomfortable.

A week after Fulks told her he no longer cared for his mother or what the woman thought, he informed her over yet another meal that he bought and she prepared, his father desired her presence at the next evening’s dinner. While Vivienne acted to the world as if she could care less about what Lord William wanted with her, she spent time on her attire and hair. The last thing she wanted was for Lord Spike-up-his-Butt to think she was poor, weak, and unable to care for herself. She saddled and mounted the heavy destrier war beast her father owned and rode him proudly to Gisborne Manor.

Her dreams had become erotic and the Lord of Locksley played heavily in them.

Hugh and Fulks were in attendance and they dined at the new Gisborne Hall. It was smaller than Locksley, more of a hunting lodge, or so Fulks whispered, and it seemed that Lord William preferred the closeness of it to Locksley these days. He claimed the preparations and noise for Hugh’s marriage kept him awake and irritable and Gisborne Hall was quiet and what his old soul desired. For the FitzGisborne’s, Gisborne Hall was intimate, perfect for small gatherings such as this.

There was no high table, simply one table, long and ancient, and when he thought no one watched, Lord William caressed the old wood seemingly lost in memory.

“'Tis quite odd, he loves this table as much as the old bed in his bed chambers,” Hugh whispered.

“One would think he has…” Fulks’ voice faded off, realizing what he was about to say and who he was about to say it to.

Vivienne knew where the youngest FitzGisborne was leading. “You are most disgusting.”

Fulks shrugged.

William was no longer lost in thought, instead, watching his sons interact with Simon’s daughter, trying to discern their relationship. Their comfort and ease with each other was familial and yet again, William felt a pang for the loss of his daughter. What would Cecile have looked like? Would she have been a beauty? Stubborn? Easy going? And what of Vivienne? What would his sons think when he finally revealed his plans for Vivienne to them? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. The table had been cleared by the servants, nothing left but the wine. He listened closer to the young people’s chatter, waiting for a break to join in and redirect the conversation.

“My Lady, you are… doing well?”

Vivienne had the good sense to blush. “My Lord, please. I am a common knight’s-”

“I wish you would stop saying that!” Fulks interjected angrily. “Your father was not common!”

“Indeed not.” William was quick to take the mantle of the dominate voice in the conversation. “Your father was a good man, high in his rank. Many times, he was offered position in higher courts. He refused them. He has titles you are not aware of. Which is what I need to talk to you about.”

“Titles?” Vivienne was confused. “My father had no titles.”

“Your father was raised and granted the title of Baronet by me. The entirety of Clun would have been his to oversee.” William looked up to see three jaws hanging agape around the table. “Your father was a great man, a humble one, and much of what was accomplished here and throughout England in the last decade would not have come about without his help. I planned to inform him and hold a celebration upon our return from the north, however…” his head wobbled, not wishing to state the obvious. “I received word yesterday from the king, accepting your father’s promotion to his title. As his only heir, you are now a baronetess. You have a title, land, income and a dowry.”

“My father left me a dowry?” It was a squeak.

“I have left you a dowry,” he corrected, “and as your guardian, I will oversee your income for now. Until you are married, of course.”

Her attitude immediately changed. “That is what this is about. Who you are going to marry me off to!” Her eyes narrowed. “To whom it would befit you best to marry me to!”

Both boys sat up, eyes large. No one dared take that tone with Lord William Edward FitzGisborne.

William, for his part, did not appear to be insulted, but continued on. “As your guardian, anyone who offers for you, must have my permission to court you and ask for your hand. Of course, if you would prefer the cloister, that can be arranged as well.” He sat at the head of the table, calm, collected, hands folded on the table, his eyes focused on his goblet.

“CLOISTER?” Vivienne shot up from her chair. “I do not wish to be a nun! And I most certainly do not need a husband!”

William’s eye rolled up to stare. “You most certainly do need a man to take you in hand. Your father was lenient.”

“My father knew my worth!” Vivienne was still standing. She turned to the terrified servant standing behind her chair. “Tell the cook she is most excellent and if I were able, I would steal her from this… this… noble person! If you would retrieve my cloak and my horse, I will leave now!”

William was smiling slightly. “I will arrange an escort.”

“I do not need one!”

“Aye, but you do. Word will be out shortly and soon, would-be suitors and other undesirable men will be hounding your doorframe, pestering your ladyship. They will know your worth, as well. You will be accosted in the square, possibly kidnapped, dragged to an altar. It would be too easy for an unscrupulous man to take what you have by force. I am willing to protect for you for a time, but until you are married, you are vulnerable. We will need to find you a husband or protector soon.”

The air become hot and closed as Vivienne stared her guardian down. She was close to crying and the men in the room could see it. It was an ugly comeuppance. Finally, she turned and grabbing her skirts, ran from the room.

William stood, along with his sons. Fulks made to go after her, but William waved him off. “Both of you sit. We have much to discuss.” He made towards the door as well, taking Vivienne’s cloak from the servant. It was not lost on him that it was rich fur-trimmed cream and the broach at the collar was ornate. “Send Timon and Alfred to the stables to attend Lady Vivienne to her home.” The girl curtsied and hurried off.

As William went through the doors into the large entryway, he noticed Vivienne standing in front of a wall of artwork. Although he was far, he knew what she stared at. Signaling again for his sons to stay put, he closed the door and went to stand behind Vivienne. “My lady… Vivienne…”

“Who is that?” It was a pained, strained whisper. She nodded to the framed portrait in front of her. “Who is that?”

When Roland FitzGisborne went through the scrolls hidden in the catacombs of Ripley’s, next to Guy’s coffin, he found several things he did not expect to find. He expected the copy of the contract Genevieve pained over to make heads or tails of, but he did not expect to find a copy of Genevieve’s sketchbook. Her dream home among them, along with the sketch of Guy she’d drawn in the gazebo of Ripley’s on their wedding day. Roland didn’t know how it got there or how long the Guy’s in the family would be allowed to keep it. Alise was a competent artist and she’d copied both during her first confinement. He had never shown her – or anyone – the contract. It, along with the original pieces of art, remained in the protective scroll casing at Ripley’s.

And the copied drawing of Guy was what Vivienne was staring at.

“Please. My Lord. Who is that?”

William cleared his throat. “That is my ancestor, Sir Guy of Gisborne. He was the Master-At-Arms at Nottingham Castle in the late 1190’s. He resided, grew up here, where this manse now sits, the only son of an honored and titled knight. His father died before he reached his adulthood and the bailiff stole the home from him. It was later stolen from the bailiff by Robin Hood.”

“Robin Hood?” Vivienne muttered under her breath. “I thought he was a myth.”

Both were now staring at the charcoal drawing. “No. He lived and robbed like a good thief. Sir Guy fought to become a knight, earned not only his stolen home back, but Robin’s as well. He died at Nottingham during a siege. His grandson, Roland FitzGisborne was awarded the property and title back for deeds for the crown of King Henry II and has grown the endowment. Roland was my great-grandfather.”

Vivienne was still staring at the portrait. “'Tis said he breathed life into you.”

“Aye.”

Her attention returned to the portrait. “I know this man.” It was a whisper.

“'Tis said I resemble him. That is not me.”

“I know this man.”

“Vivienne, he has been dead for over a century.”

She was shaking her head. “He dances in my dreams and begrudges my slumber. His bedevilment is never ending. I would not care if he slept next to me, if he would simply allow me to sleep.”

With that, she took her cloak from his arm and slinging it on over her shoulders, walked through the front door to her waiting horse and escort.

William waited for several moments, listening to her mount up and leave.

“Father?”

William was not surprised to see both sons standing next to him. Hugh handed him his goblet of wine. “When did Simon become a baronet?”

William was still staring at the door. “It was to be a surprise.” He nodded up the stairs. “You will find the king’s signed decree on my desk in my room.” He wandered into the seating room on the other side of the entry way. The fire was stocked and William sank into a chair, propping his booted feet on a short table. He sank his nose into the chalice, waiting for his sons to join him.

“Simon was to be given – was given – Clun and the armory.” Clun had grown since Sir Guy’s time. It was now walled and boasted of an armory, as well as was considered and utilized as an outer-lying guarded outpost for Nottingham Castle. “His allegiance would be to me. I would be his overlord, but the barony would bring a nice income to him and to his daughter. He would have been able to dower her well.”

Hugh sat down across from his father, Fulks choosing to stand. “This barony did not come from-”

“It is part of Gisborne, which still belongs to me, whelp.” William drained his goblet and reached for the jug. Refiling his drink, he continued. “I realize I could have said nothing and simply absorbed it back into Gisborne, but as her guardian, I am compelled to my best by her.”

Fulks was staring into his goblet. He resembled his mother, but he was built like his father, tall and lanky. “I will marry her.”

Hugh was shocked.

“Do you love her?”

“No, she is like a sister to me. But she would be miserable with someone she did not know and I would hate to see her with someone who did not care for her.” He shrugged. “I figure Harridston is big enough. She can live on one side and I will live on the other. And when I die, Harridston would come back to the FitzGisborne Estate.”

Guy sighed with relief. If Fulks fancied himself in love with Vivienne, it would make what he planned to do harder. Bad enough he had argued with the angel over the last few evenings over this decision. “I am glad to hear that, however, I have someone in mind for you. I expect to have negotiations in hand by summer.”

“You have said nothing to me about this?”

Hugh waved his brother off. “What plans do you have for Vivienne?”

“What plans do you have for me?”

William was enjoying this. “For you, an heiress of sizable fortune and a wonderful vineyard.”

Fulks planted both fists on his hips. “Have we not had enough French women in this country?”

Hugh barked with laughter at his brother’s whine. William joined him.

“She comes with a substantial yearly endowment, which will be handed to you, and you will put into your estate. When her father dies, and he is elderly, so I would expect him not to linger, the vineyard will go to our cousin Guilliame. He has done me a great favor for some years and this gift will please him. You will continue to draw her endowment, as well as a percentage of the profit from the sale of the wine made from the estate.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Fulks nodded. “If she is pretty, I will be happy. If she is not, I will put a sack over her head and make sure the candles are dampened at night.”

“She is not ugly. I have met her. You did as well, when you were at Aigues-Mortes. Her name is Henriette and she is the only daughter of the Duke of Le Grui-du-Roi. She is quite beautiful, as well as accomplished and educated well.”

“And rich!” Hugh finished. “Oh, the wine, my brother. Oh, the wine!”

Fulks satisfied with his father’s choice of bride, refocused his attention for his childhood friend. “What are your plans for Vivienne?”

William propped his right foot over the left. Martha would be furious to find dirt on the table, but William came to the conclusion a long time ago that she loved to fuss. “She does not desire a husband and in this, I am willing to not force one on her, however, she needs a protector, as she is not safe. She will fight this decision, for her father allowed her to have her way since she was born. We will need to convince her of her need.”

Fulks was thinking. He was the more devious of the two and had a better eye. Since their return from Aigues-Mortes, William had quietly groomed him as a spy. Sooner than he would like, Edward would need someone to infiltrate and watch over his kingdom. While William wasn’t old, his time with Edward II wore him down. He was looking forward to retirement and now with the opportunity presented to him, the desire to become a quiet, country lord was pressing and urgent.

“The best way to make her see that is not safe for her to abide alone is to convince her she is not safe alone.”

“Are you saying we rob her?”

Fulks began to smile and it was an evil smile. “No. I believe he is saying that she is simply to be frightened and one of us should be there to rescue her.”

“No.” Now William interrupted. “I will be the one to rescue her. Again and again. Until she realizes what she needs.”

Dawning crossed Hugh’s features. “Father, if you continually rescue her, she will lean on you. Perhaps, the man you desire for her to marry should do the rescuing and wooing?”

William was beginning to chuckle as was Fulks. “Father has no one in mind for her to marry, Hugh.”

“But-”

“He said protector. Not husband.”

William nodded.

“But who? Why a protector?”

Fulks pointed at William. “Protector.”

William gently set his goblet on the table and put his feet on the floor. “Fulks, there are several things you and your brother need to understand. While I no longer hate your mother for killing your sister and desire her death, she is not right in the mind and is no wife to me, nor is she mistress of my estate and my home desperately needs a woman. Not a chatelaine, but a mistress. A lady. Mellisande becomes more and more violent with each passing day. She is locked in her cottage and drugged senseless most times. Edward would allow me to divorce her, as would the Church, however I will not give her cousin a foothold on Harridston. He is a drunkard and half mad with the pox, but I will give him nothing. When I married Mellisande, I did not promise to love or cling to her, much less be faithful. I tried. I honestly tried. I have not neglected her or abandoned her. Neither one of them can live forever and I would like someone in my life to love before I am old and crippled.

“At the same flip of the coin, I will not give Simon’s title and land to anyone. There is no one I know that I like well enough to give it and Vivienne to. Truth is, I have no intentions of giving it up. It needs to come back to me. There is only one way to do that and that is to woo and bind Vivienne to me.”

Hugh was now scratching his lip, lost in thought. “She is my friend, father. We played together as children. She bound and cleaned my scrapes and bruises. And you are-”

“If you say 'old’, I will send your bride-to-be back to her father and send you to Kirkley’s Monastery to be ordained and tonsured.”

“-austere.”

It was silent for a few moments. Finally, Fulks spoke up. “Promise me, when you tire of her, you will not just set her aside. That she will be cared for always. That there will be a place for her. A home, income. Always. For if you do not provide it, I will.”

William rose, feeling tired and rejuvenated at the same time. It was an odd, heady, feeling. “She will never want for anything. I will not set her aside. Ever.”

Hugh paled, full understanding what Fulks and his father were plotting. “Father. The staff has said you have never taken a mistress, never taken anyone to your bed. Why Vivienne? Why now? You do not know her!”

William smiled, thinking back on a time when he was an angry man and called 'Sir Guy’. He remembered Genevieve, in Clun, angry and riding away from him. He remembered her calming influence. The world just seemed… right. “She reminds me of someone I loved many years ago. Before I was contracted to marry your mother.”

“Papa,” Hugh used that old old beloved name that melted William every time. “She is not that girl. That woman.”

“She has her spirit.” William grinned and Hugh realized that in the past hour, his father looked younger than he could ever remember him looking. “I promise I will not force her to my bed, that she will want to come to it and stay. I will cherish her and I ask that the two of you respect her regardless of her decision and that you respect the relationship we create.” He headed towards the door.

“And what if she says no. What then?”

William stopped at the door. “She will not say no.” And with that, he left the room and headed up the stairs to bed.

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The Journal - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 of 97 (Complete) - Funeral Genre:  Action Adventure, Romance, Drama Rating:  Teen+ Pairing:  Thorin/Kate Andrews Universe:  The Hobbit Movie Verse Warnings:  Character death Author:    Lady Dunla

"She told him she'd rather fix her makeup Than try to fix what's going on But the problem keeps on calling Even with the cell phone gone She told him that she believes in living Bigger than she's living now But her world keeps spinning backwards And upside­ down" Gone, Switchfoot

Thoren The closing of Thorin's tomb sounded rather too loud to Thoren's ears. To him it made his father's passing all that more final and he had to swallow, hard, to get a grip on himself. He could not let his tears escape, not now. He was the new King Under the Mountain; people expected him to be strong. And the same was more or less true for his younger siblings. Royalty did not cry, not in public at least. But they didn't have an easy time either, he could tell. Thráin was staring right ahead, looking at a point in front of him without actually seeing it. Duria's face seemed to have turned to stone, as had Jack's. Cathy was the only one who didn't have enough control over herself not to shed tears. She was sobbing silently, trying her hardest not to give in to her grief, but failing spectacularly.

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Raising Nemo - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 of ? Genre:  Romance, drama Rating:  Explicit later Pairing:  Gary/Deidre Universe:  Into The Storm Author:    @zeesmuse

“So, Mr. Fuller, how was your Thanksgiving?”

He rolled his eyes. “I thought this had been discussed, Deidre. My name is Gary. Mr. Fuller is a stuffy Assistant Principal.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Gary!”

“See? That wasn’t so hard!” he smiled. “It was wonderful. Thank you. How was yours?”

“I ate too much. I will be dieting for months!”

“Christmas is- NEMO! PLAY NICE! - around the corner. All of the women and the head Baseball Coach will keep our break room in home-made goodies.” The man patted his stomach. “I’ll be on a diet come January.”

There was a gentle, good-natured poke to the man’s stomach. “Oh, I think you could stand to gain a few pounds. You’re almost skin and bones.” Deidre nodded. “You could use a cheeseburger or two.”

“I eat enough cheeseburgers. Thank you.”

“Did you enjoy having your sons home?”

There was a silence before Gary answered. “For a week, it was like old times. Now it is silent again. It was hard to take them back yesterday. Hey!” The man suddenly became animated. “Do you have Saturday off?”

She made a moue. “We’ve have a truck coming in early I need to be there for, but I’m off by two. Why?” Deidre smiled saucily.

Gary was staring up in the sky. “Oh, There’s a Big 12 Game on ESPN,” he shrugged as if it were a question, “that is if you’re really interested in football.”

“Oh, you know I am!” Deidre jerked up. “And you’re on! I think there is an SEC game on in the evening.”

“You follow SEC?” Gary growled at the woman tucked under his arm.

“I follow all of it!” Deidre snuggled into the man. “I love those Southern Boys. They grow ‘em big!”

“Put Supergro in their Wheaties,” Gary agreed.

“Weed-be-gone.”

“So, you’ll head over on Saturday?”

“Sure. Want me to pick up a bucket of Kentucky Fried?”

“You know they call it KFC now.”

“Phhhpt! As if – BRUTUS! Stop chewing Nemo’s ears! KFC, Kentucky Fried… same thing! Meals or a bucket?”

Gary smiled as he pulled her in for a kiss. “I don’t care. Just make sure you bring you!”

~~~…~~~

Students returned to school on Monday, revved up, raring to go. Three weeks of drudgery before the Christmas holidays. January finals were still over a month away and they weren’t worried. Basketball was in full swing, the weather was nippy and growing colder.

Nemo was large and getting larger. His coat was filling in, precious quiet moments in the evening spent brushing and grooming him. Gary noticed that sometimes, Nemo would amble down the hall and stop at Donnie’s door. The puppy enjoyed both boys, both of them lavishing attention and playtime with him, but he belonged to Gary and he knew it.

But there was something about Donnie… something going on with him and Nemo sensed it.

He shook his head. He knew that if Donnie needed anything, he would call him. If something was really wrong, Trey would call him. He’d have more time with them at Christmas. Not so frantic, not so rushed.

He texted him anyway, in the guise of a parental unit duo text.

'Hey you guys! I enjoyed both of you at home last week. You’re home for the holidays in two weeks. What do you want to do while you’re home?’

Trey answered almost immediately with a list of desired electronics under the tree and to please tell Donnie not to hog to the dog.

Donnie responded an hour later. He didn’t hog the dog, it wasn’t his fault that the dog preferred him to Trey. In a separate text, he asked Gary if they could do something they hadn’t done in years.

'Sure Champ. Name it. Please not camping. That’s a summer thing.’

He could sense the smile in the return text.

'nah. we can go camping or to the lake this spring break. wanna go to the zoo.’

Gary was slightly taken aback. Donnie loved to go to the zoo – until his mother left. Then he hated it. They hadn’t been in years. ’Sure, we can do that. I guess you miss the monkeys?’

'dad my roomie is a monkey’

'Your roomie is your brother.’

'like I said’

Gary waited a few minutes before he texted Donnie back. ’Is everything okay? You need to talk?’

There was no response. So engrossed in the face of his cellphone, he didn’t hear the door creak open.

“You’re looking mighty serious there, Coach.”

Gary looked up to see Brian standing in his office, holding two Starbucks coffee cups. “Am I fired?”

The man looked out into the hall before stepping into his office and shutting the door. “No. Are you interested in taking a principal position in the nearer future?”

“Is Titus getting fired?”

Brian shook his head no. “Ed.”

Gary blinked. “Ed Straham. Principal at-”

“Webster Elementary.”

“Ed’s getting fired?”

“No.” Brian shook his head. “They think he’s had a stroke.”

~~~…~~~

Gary sat behind his desk, staring at the Starbucks coffee cup in front of him. “You don’t go cheap, do you Brian?”

Brian pulled up a chair and propped his elbows on the desk. “It was on the way. That or Dunkin’ Donuts.” He shrugged. “I had a gift card. I recall you had a preference.”

Gingerly, Gary picked up the hot coffee and took a sip. “How is Ed?”

Again, Brian shrugged. “He’s at the hospital, getting checked out. His wife is supposed to call me.” Brian began to nod. “I’m heading to the hospital when I’m done here.”

Gary now cupped the plastic mug, inhaling the hot bean. “You came by for more than to tell me that Ed had a stroke.”

“Chances are likely, Webster’s going to need an interim principal if Ed is bad. He had that scare a few months back and hasn’t really recuperated.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“You know you will be named principal at Morrison Middle School at the end of the school year. Make sure all your paperwork is in.”

Gary smiled. He drove by the construction site every day. Already, he considered it 'his’ school.

“Titus doesn’t know yet. But this will give you some experience before hand.”

Gary set the half full cup on his desk. “Elementary is a long way from high school.”

“It’s a long way from Middle School, but it will get you out from under Titus sooner.”

“True.” Gary’s mind was whirling.

“Of course, it might not be a stroke. It might be something minor and he’ll just be out a day or two. That’s happened before.” He stood up and pulled on the crease of his pants. “I thought I’d just throw it out there. See if you’re interested.” He turned towards the door.

“Brian?”

Brian turned. “Yes?”

“I’m interested. Keep me posted.”

He watched as Brian left. He took another sip of coffee before realizing his phone was buzzing.

'got something bugging me. i’ll figure it out. if not, we’ll talk when i’m home. love you’

~~~…~~~

Ed came home two days later, shaken up, but swearing he was okay. He took the rest of the week off and planned to return on Monday.

Gary was, in a sense, relieved. Going from high school to elementary would be akin to culture shock. Gary had never taught elementary school, hadn’t set foot in one except to attend PTA and programs his sons were in. Truth was, he didn’t know what he’d do with the little ones. They had their own set of testing different from the high schools.This year, the state mandated less testing as many felt children were being over-tested.

The pendulum swung back and forth. From one extreme to the other. Several years ago, we weren’t testing them enough. That in itself caused stress and anxiety, not only for teachers, but for students. Now they were being tested too much. Gary shrugged to himself. For now, it was a moot point.

What wasn’t a moot point? Today was Wednesday, he had a date with Deidre at the dog park tomorrow and Saturday was football.

~~~…~~~

They wasted a bucket. An entire bucket of chicken. Gone. Nothing but bones. Okay, so Nemo helped because he was a beggar, but still… an entire bucket!

Thank you Jesus, the girl isn’t scared to eat!

Carol had been tiny always. Exercised relentlessly if she was a pound over. When she was pregnant with the boys, she watched her weight with an obsessive glare to the point Gary feared for not only her, but their unborn children. She was back in her normal clothes within 2 weeks.

He knew about the one affair. He wondered at times if there had been more. He told her over and over she was beautiful. Why did she look elsewhere?

So it felt good to sprawl on the floor, good-natured ribbing, taking opposing sides of the Michigan versus Ohio State game. The fire was high in the fireplace and heavier outer layers of clothing found their way elsewhere in the floor.

“Hmmm,” Gary whispered against her mouth. “Tastes like chicken.”

“So do you.”

Nemo was let out.

The sun went down, another game started. Nemo was let back in. Somewhere, the heat rose and it wasn’t caused by the fireplace. Nemo was let back out, the game was forgotten. First downs were being counted in a different way on the couch. At some point, Gary rolled, pining Deidre beneath him. His hand touched bare skin at her waist. It was warm, soft under his calloused fingertips. His mouth found her ear, her neck, Deidre’s hand slid under Gary’s flannel shirt.

“Deidre?” It was whispered, a definite question murmured against her skin.

“Yes, Gary.”

He lifted up, his look serious. “If you don’t… “ His question hung on the air. “Or tell me to stop now.”

The responding smile was gentle. “I thought you’d never ask.” Her smile drooped. “Uhm… about birth control-”

“I’ve had a vasectomy,” he said matter-a-factly. “I’ve not been intimate with any woman in over eight years and when I discovered my wife was having an affair, I was tested. I have the paperwork, but if you’d rather, I have condoms. Donnie or Trey left them,” he amended quickly. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I trust them. They say they’re colored and flavor lubed.”

“I’ve not been with anyone in years. I trust you,” Deidre admitted. She stopped in mid-thought. “Flavored?”

“Grape.”

“They must have gotten it out of a bathroom.” She shuddered. “I have a confession, before…”

Gary raised his eyebrows.

“I had a hysterectomy and an appendectomy. The scar is pretty ugly.”

Gary raised up, getting off the couch, before putting his hand out to her. “I’m not interested in your scar. I’m interested in you.” As she rose from the sofa, Gary picked up the remote and turned the television off. They turned off lights as they went through the house.

Nemo was let back in. Gary scratched him behind the ears. “Find your squeaky and go to bed.” The puppy watched as his human and the happy smelling lady wandered down the hallway, their lips together. It was obvious he thought it was too early for bed, but then the bedroom door shut, leaving Nemo finding his way to his bed in the dark.

There was heat and electricity, but none of it was being generated by the house. He sought her, sought her mouth and it dawned on her that he was starving, much like she was.

She was terrified, was afraid of old ghosts and memories and baggage, but she shoved it to the side and behind. Tonight was about skin and feeling cherished for the first time in ages.

He was terrified, afraid of old baggage and memories and old ghosts. He was afraid of performance or not being able to perform, but things had a way of asserting themselves and when her hand went around him, things did just that. Tonight was not about fear, but about the desire to feel needed and wanted for the first time in years.

Clothing hit the floor, each undressing the other while still fused at the mouth. When there was no more clothing left, Gary pressed her up and on the bed, a bed that was much too large to sleep in alone. Her knees hit the back and she sat, scooting backwards much like a crab. He followed, covering her, neither one needing anything but sexually created heat. His hands were in Deidre’s hair… touching, moving. It was a frantic dance.

He moved behind her earlobe, to her neck and down her collar bone, something that caused her to sigh and wiggle. “Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head. “No.” The response was breathy, a bare whisper. “Don’t stop.”

“Didn’t plan on it.” Gary resumed his teasing. He cupped both breasts, pleasingly plump and heavy, before devouring one side and then the other.

There was labored breathing, sighs, nails lightly raised across the other’s back. His fingers found that hated scar and rather than ignore it, he leaned down and licked it, sending sparks throughout her body. At some point, he move up, taking her mouth, hands on hips and when she raised her leg over his waist, Gary found home.

~~~…~~~

“I can’t stay the night.”

Somehow, Gary figured that. “Brutus.”

“Yes. He’ll need to be let out.”

“Can we snuggle for a while?”

“Sure.”

~~~…~~~

The sun was almost breaking when Deidre pulled in front of her duplex. Part of her was kicking herself; Gary was warm and stood his bed-ground when she spooned into him. He didn’t snore. Her ex husband sounded like a train depot. They’d slept in separate rooms after her hysterectomy, when things went downhill so rapidly. She shook her head. She wasn’t going to dwell on bad things when it looked like she’d found something good for a change. She didn’t know how long she and Gary would last, how long before she moved on, but she was determined to savor this. This man was the stuff of dreams. She got out of her car, her house key ready to insert into her lock. She noticed an envelope taped to the door and after she inserted the key, she pulled it off. There was no name, no markings at all…

Brutus was going insane. She opened the door and stood to the side as the little dog ran over her foot, going straight to the bushes to the side of her small yard. He yipped once in obvious ire. “I know, buddy. I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Next time, you come with me and keep Nemo company. Even Gary said so.”

Heck. Gary suggested it. She thought about him coming over to spend the night at her place, but she didn’t think he’d fit on her double bed. Her home was rather sparsely furnished, to be honest. It wasn’t a home, like his. Just stuff she picked up at Goodwill, the Salvation Army, Craig’s List when she first moved here. If she had to leave in a hurry, she could pack everything that was personally hers in the car with room to spare. Thirty minutes. Tops. Brutus started snuffing around in the bushes, happy to be out to do his business. She remembered the envelope in her hand and opened it, pulling out the card… no…

… the picture.

It was grainy, taken at night. She recognized the scenery, it was her front porch. She and Gary were locked in that sweet, sweet, hot kiss the night he took her to the art gallery. She looked up, looked around, trying to figure out where the photographer laid in wait.

There. Across the street, behind the trees…

The picture was marred, writing in black sharpie marker across the front. She squinted, putting it under her porch light to read it. She angled it to read the word.

Whore.

Tbc

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Aside from Heaven  - Chapter 4G

Chapter 4G of ? - Got Money, I’ll Do Anything For You Genre:  Action Adventure - BBC Robin Hood 2006 Rating:  Explicit at times Pairing:  Guy of Gisborne/Genevieve Universe:  Soul Guy - Manna From Heaven by Zeesmuse Warnings:  Depiction of graphic violence. Author:    @zeesmuse

London 1329

“Sire.”

Edward III turned. He had grown several inches since assuming the throne and was starting to fill out into the man he would someday be. He was sprouting a beard. “Sir William. What news of the north?”

William went to one knee. “Not good. Robert I of Scotland has died.”

“That makes his son David king.”

“And your sister Joan, Queen of Scotland.” Edward openly shuddered as his mother’s lover, Roger Mortimer walked into the room, unannounced and unwelcome. “This is good news, not bad.” He stood over a still kneeling William.

“Joan is only eight,” Edward reminded him.

“And like you,” Roger reminded the king snidely, “she and David have excellent advisers. Something,” he whacked William in the back of the head with the flat of his hand, “this lowly servant should remember.” He turned away from them, not seeing William jump up.

Edward stepped back, giving William room to stand. “Sir William serves me. It would go well for you to remember that.”

Roger turned, to find his throat in a vice grip that Hugh the Younger would have been familiar with. “It would also go well for you,” William whispered, “to remember that I am not beneath you.”

Roger was on his tiptoes. “Once a dog, always a dog.” He pulled himself from William’s grip and yanked his tunic down. “Sire, you should be careful who you associate with.”

“So should my mother.”

The retort was unexpected and Roger drew up in surprise. Bowing, he headed towards the door. Edward followed him and motioned to his guard. “From now on, that man is not allowed access to my rooms or my person.” He waited for the man to acknowledge the command and shut the door before turning back to his guest. “How much longer must I put up with him? My mother is out of control and he openly rules in my stead as if he were king!”

“Patience, sire. While he is greedy, he is not as cruel as Hugh the Younger. Returning the barons stolen lands was a wise move on his part, but your nobles will tire of him and his ways soon enough, as will you.”

“I am already tired of him!”

Edward found a goblet pressed into his hands. “Drink. It will soothe you.” William waited until his young king drained the chalice – not too quickly.

“Joan is too young to be queen.”

William shrugged. “And unbeknownst to Roger, David’s two most able lieutenants are ill. They will not survive long. Certainly not long enough until David reaches his majority.”

This was a surprise to Edward. “The Black Douglas? The Earl of Moray? Mortally ill? Both?”

“Aye. Scotland is in disarray.” Nitpicking thoughts were hard to plant and The Black Knight was getting ready to plant one. “I am equally concerned with the displaced Englishmen who lost property in the south of Scotland when the treaty with France was signed in your name.”

“I am left in the dark in regards of the running of my kingdom.” Edward was staring into his cup. “Would you be so kind to look into that for me?”

“Certainly sire. Your wish is my duty. Many would like to take back what is England’s.” He suddenly changed the subject. “Speaking of young queens,” this was said with a smile. “How is married life?”

Ah, now Edward lit up. “I am most pleased! You know,” he whispered, although no one would hear anyway, “court loves Phillipa as much as I. She has chosen her ladies from the higher families from England. She brought none with her. If you had a daughter, no doubt, she would be here in Phillipa’s entourage!”

He didn’t notice William’s face growing dark. “Yes, I am sure.”

Edward was continuing on, a slightly surly note creeping into his tone. “I would like to schedule her coronation as queen, but mother does not wish to give up her title.”

“It will come soon, I promise. By your leave,” William turned to head to the door.

“Sir William?”

William well knew this tone of voice from his young king. “Remind me why France forced England to give land to the Scots.”

William scrunched his nose. “Scotland and France are allies and England was forced to revert to old borders established during Alexander’s reign almost 75 years ago. They have an old alliance.”

Edward was thinking. William knew that Edward and his younger brother John loved the warring game. “Ah. The Auld Alliance. Neither are our friend, regardless of who their king is married to and who their sister is.” Edward was openly referring to the fact his sister was now Queen of Scotland and his mother’s brother was King of France. Despite two advantageous marriages, England was still in a precarious position.

“I would suspect, my lord, that right this moment, Scotland’s king has as much power as England’s.”

“Which is none.” The young man turned his back on his favorite earl and leisurely strolled away, hands behind his back. “I must prioritize certain things.” He turned with a finger up. “Rally the barons to me. Soon, I have need to oust Roger and set my mother down.”

“You would do her a kindness and simply retire her to one of her castles.” William exhaled. “Sire, she simply wanted to be lov-”

“She will not go quietly,” Edward interrupted. It was obvious that his mind was elsewhere and not listening to his most loyal adviser. “Until Roger is silenced for good.”

“True.” William kicked himself. Edward might be compassionate; then again, he might not be.

It was quiet for a few more minutes. “This… issue… with Scotland worries me.”

William nodded. His little bug planted well. “Once you have secured the throne, your majesty can focus on that problem.”

“You will have the information I need?”

“Of course, sire.”

With that, Edward waved the Wolf of Gisborne away, leaving the man to do what he did best.

~~~…~~~

Edward and Phillipa’s first child was born in June of 1330. The queen was nine days shy of her 16th birthday. The king was not yet 18. England rejoiced as the line of the monarchy was secure. They named their first son Edward and in later years, he became known as The Black Prince.

Four months later, while Roger Mortimer and Isabella of France visited Nottingham Castle, Edward summoned Parliament to Nottingham. They seized both Roger and Isabella, sending the Earl of March to the Tower and Isabella to Berkhamsted.

~~~…~~~

November, 1330

“This cell looks familiar.”

“It should. I made sure you got the same one.”

Roger looked around, with a sneer on his face. “If you’re going to aid me in escaping this time, can you please find something other way than the privy chute?” He shuddered. “I can still smell the shite in my nightmares.”

“No. I am here to inform you of your sentence.”

Roger watched as William glided through the shadows, much like a ghost. “Sentence,” he scoffed. “There has been no trial.”

“There won’t be one,” William whispered. “The King has passed judgment and your sentence pronounced. Don’t,” he raised a finger to keep Roger from interrupting, “think the barons or I will lift a finger to save you. Edward is king. His word is law and the barons no longer see you or Isabella as Regent.” It was silent as William watched as slow realization stole across the other man’s features. “The king has declared you guilty of assuming royal power and unlawfully acting as England’s de facto ruler. Your titles and lands are forfeit-”

“NO! My wife and childre-”

“You should have thought of them before you took up with the Queen,” William glared. “Your titles and lands are forfeit. You are to be executed forthright in Tyburn.”

“Tyburn,” the man whispered. “A traitor’s death.” Roger inhaled. “What of Isabella?”

William smiled. “Edward loves his mother.” Like he loves his father. “She is to be retired to Castle Rising in Norfolk, to live out her days.”

“So,” Roger turned and wandered to a corner. “This is it. What did I do to anger Edward so badly?”

William rolled his eyes. “For starters, you are as ambitious as Hugh the Elder, greedy as fek, and acted as if you were king. It was one thing to restore what was stolen by the Despensers and Edward II, but executing Edmund of Woodstock-”

“He conspired against the king!”

“No, he conspired against you!” William pushed himself from the wall and stepped into the low light. “For God’s sake, Edmund, while unpopular, was the king’s uncle! It was one thing to jail him for conspiring to unseat you, but you pardoned a murderer in exchange for him to behead the man! Royalty, Roger! A lowly murderer was paid and pardoned in exchange to execute royalty whose only so-called crime was to attempt to replace you! Did you not think Edward would take revenge? He hates you! Has always hated you! How long did you think he would allow you to rule from his mother’s bed?” William waited while this sank in. “Do you wish to send any message to your wife or your children? Any final words?” A scroll of paper, quill, and a small clay jar of ink materialized on the loan table in the room. “I will wait.”

Roger sat at the table, suddenly a very small, frail man, one who knew death waited for him. In fact, Douma stood by the window, her wings twitching and her eyes ever rolling. Stars, comets shot through the dark blue irises, much like a child’s kaleidoscope and unseen by Roger. For some time the only sound was the scratching of the quill against the parchment. William worked hard to look anywhere except the condemned man or the angel. The angel was having no part of it.

Gui! Lui dire! Apaiser son esprit!

William rolled his eyes yet again, much to the disgust of the Angel of Death.

Si votre pain vos yeux plus loin en arrière, vous trouverez sans doute votre cerveau!

This caused William to bark in laughter, much to the disgust of the prisoner seated before him.

“Easy for you to laugh.”

“Trust me, I am not laughing at you.” Douma’s eyes were turning orange, sparks flying about. He snarled at her like a small, errant child. “Roger, I assure you your children and wife will be fine. I promise. At some point, when Edward has calmed down and settled, he will restore your titles and land to your heirs. He will forgive them and not blame them for your transgressions.”

Roger blew on the parchment, ensuring the ink was dry. He rolled it before touching it to his forehead. “Promise me Edward will not go after Joan or the children. They are innocent.”

William inhaled.

“Promise me they won’t starve. Promise me they won’t be left as poor relations.” With this plea, Roger stood and faced William nose to nose. “I know you. I know who you are. I know what you are. Your word is your bond. You have more influence over Edward than anyone. Promise me my family will survive this, that they will be educated as they deserve, that they will marry well, and will take their rightful place in the realm. Promise me no one will take what is Joan’s or what rightfully belongs to my heirs!”

William’s eyes narrowed. Telling the man that one day his heirs would retain what was stripped from the now former Earl of March was one thing. Promising to care for them was another. Twelve children! Feeding a brood that size would break half of England combined! That would be tantamount to taking responsibility for another estate! Harridston had been a struggle, still was a struggle…

Roger now grabbed him by his tunic. “Promise me! I cannot die peacefully-”

“Alright, alright!” William began to pry the man off of him. “I will do my best-”

“You will do it! Promise!”

William exhaled with disgust. “Yes. I will do it.”

~~~…~~~

“Why would she force me to promise that man I would care for his children?” William poured wine from the bottle into the chalice in the privacy of his apartment. “As if I have time-”

“It eased his mind.” Valoel seemed to glide as if on ice, which for all all William knew, she did. “He will go to his death at ease and it is true. Joan and the children will be fine. Give Edward time. He will see the pettiness of taking his ire of Roger out on his wife and children, who were innocent in this. ‘Tis not their fault that Isabella truly loved a man who was not hers.”

William rolled his eyes at the mention of the Queen Dowager. Valoel threw her hands up. “Why do you do that? I swear, you are worse than a child!”

William sank his nose into his goblet. “You are an angel. Swearing should be beneath you.” He toasted her. “If it makes you feel better, Douma said if I rolled them far enough back, I would be able to find my brain!” He drained his goblet. “God’s Truth, I simply wish to go home and have a quiet life from here on out.”

Valoel narrowed her eyes. Many times, she could see why Genevieve loved this man, understand it. Now was not one of those times. She leaned over him. “Give up that fantasy, Guy of Gisborne!” William’s hand froze, realizing how angry he had made the angels that protected him. “Stay very still. Edward and his brother love warfare and England is getting ready to give them an abundance of it!”

~~~…~~~

In late November of 1330, Roger Mortimer was taken to Tyburn Field and hung for treason. In an act of leniency, Roger was not quartered or disemboweled. His body was left hanging in public for two days, a warning to all who would desire to usurp the king’s rightful place.

Isabella, Dowager Queen of England was initially sent to Berkhamsted Castle and then held under house arrest at Windsor Castle until 1332, before being allowed to return to Castle Rising. She claimed Roger’s body and had him interred at Greyfair’s Church in Leicester. During this time, Isabella suffered a nervous breakdown following the death of her lover. Although required to surrender the majority of her lands, she retained several castles and her son, the king, allotted her a generous allowance. Although she was considered very wealthy, she quickly became deep in debt to local merchants.

Edward did not wish war with Scotland, as Scotland was friends with France. Angering one would have war on both sides of England and many feared England would squashed between the two. This delicate balancing act was destroyed in 1332, when Englishmen who lost land in a peace accord signed in Edward’s name attacked Scotland in the Battle of Dupplin Moor and attempted to put Edward Balliol on the Throne of Scotland. While this battle failed, Edward rose up and with his sixteen year old brother John of Altham leading England’s army, laid siege to Berwick. William Edward and his knights led the left flank, keeping the Scots on a narrow path and in the way of young John, who was proving to be a brilliant commander despite his youth. England defeated the Scots at the Battle of Hallidon Hill, and successfully installed Balliol as King of Scotland.

William sat his horse on a victorious battlefield.

And for the first time in many years, England roared.

~~~…~~~

Late Fall, 1333

When it was over, William would blame himself.

Had he been paying attention, alert. He wasn’t doing either. He was exhausted. He was 41 years and God’s truth, he hadn’t felt this old when he died as Roland! Spying wore him out, Douma informed him his days as an assassin were not over. The king had asked for nothing of that sort and he hoped his father never said anything. The Wolf of Gisborne had delivered several missives to the king from his father and he prayed the young man burned them after reading them. Or hide them where they would never be found.

Like beneath the privy.

Queen Dowager Isabella’s fits of extreme grief were becoming fewer and fewer. Her heartache for the loss of her lover had been unprecedented. For a time, William considered suggesting the king send his mother to Ripley’s. Isabella and Mellisande could stay in the same cottage and perhaps gouge each other’s eyes out, putting both women out of their misery. Valoel smacked him in the head for that and it wasn’t a nice, friendly smack. So he kept his mouth shut.

William and several of his men were returning from the coast. Edward commanded that William spend several days shadowing David and Joan of Scotland. They were being sent to France for safe-keeping, the nobility of Scotland hoping for a better time to put their own back on the throne and Edward insisted they make it to France without incident. Even in their youth, William could tell the two did not get along very well. One of William’s men had actually infiltrated the guards, making it easier to keep an eye on the couple. He reported the twosome hissed and snapped at each other like cats and he was glad to see them get on the boat, bound for France.

They were close to Locksley, had just entered Nottinghamshire, the woods and trees a welcome signpost that home was just a few hours away. The company was relaxed, chattering, not paying attention. William wasn’t really paying attention. His mind was on the home he was building in Gisborne – on the land Guy’s home was on when it was burnt to the ground. His eldest Hugh, was marrying finally to an Eastbrooke and Fulks now resided at his mother’s estate, running it. Soon, William would need to find a wife for him, an heiress, one with no brothers. He was considering spending more time at the new Gisborne manse, allow his eldest and heir a bit of autonomy. It was close to being completed. Simon ette Forde, one of William’s lead knights and spies, was complaining about his daughter; she was almost eighteen, still unmarried, absolutely refused to give it a second thought. William’s sons considered her as a sister, although William have never seen the chit. According to Simon, the girl was comely-

“All fathers think their daughters are beautiful,” Richard de Glasson snorted. “Mine are all fairer than the fairest and are fabulous cooks!”

“Have you seen the girth of your eldest’s husband?” William chimed in. “I would quite agree with your statement that she can cook. He can’t sit a horse!”

There was good-natured laughter.

“Aye, Vivienne is comely and virtuous, but she is headstrong and independent! Every time I bring up marriage, she starts asking who will take care of me, who will cook and clean for me, who will manage my gar-”

There was a thwack, the sound of a loosed arrow and it embedded itself in Simon’s throat, knocking him from his horse. Screams rang from the trees, the forest, and immediately, the path was impassable, both front and behind. The ambush infuriated William. He turned his warhorse and unsheathing his broadsword, began to hack at the thugs in the road. They were untrained, unkempt, and too soon in complete disarray. With their element of surprise gone, and the ambushers inept weapons skills obvious, they scattered, most of them fallen, dead beneath the skills of a trained army. As soon as the noise quietened, William was off his horse and kneeling next to Simon. The knight’s breathing was labored; he tried to speak.

“Shhh. We need to find you a healer.”

“Noo. Too… too late.”

There was a flicker at the edge of William’s vision. He looked up to see Douma standing by the trees. Her eyes were a sorrowful shade of deep brown, the irises rolling like mud.

“No. I forbid your death.”

Simon actually managed to smile. “My… daughter.” Somewhere, he found and gathered his last bit of strength, grasping William at the wrist. “Take care of her, my… my… lord. A good ma…”

“No!”

My lord.

William looked up. Simon’s spirit stood next to Douma. He looked younger, at peace. My daughter. Vivienne. I name you guardian. I know you see me. Take care of her. She needs a good, firm, loving man. With that, Douma took him by the hand, turned, and the two faded in the mist.

William had seen death many times, more than his men knew, but this one was hard. Simon was like kin to him, although he only met the man’s wife once – at his wedding – and never his daughter. Simon kept her sheltered, away from William’s court, in one of the more secluded towns in William’s shire. Clun, Several times, William joked of marrying the girl to his youngest son, but Simon always managed to side-step the suggestion.

A long wagon was found in the next town and Simon was laid on straw, his horse tied to the back. The rest of the journey was silent, painfully silent. None of his entourage headed to their own homes as they closed in on Simon’s abode. At William’s nod, Richard split off, heading to the small church in the dale, to retrieve the priest. A old woman saw the group as they trod slowly by. “Which way to Simon ette Forde’s home?”

“Oh no oh no Vivienne will be-” In the midst of her wailings, she pointed to a moderately well-appointed home, the garden and grounds well tended.

“Gather the women. Any she will need.”

The lump in William’s throat became larger. It was his duty to notify families of their loved ones deaths. It was not an easy task, he had done it, but never had he felt this horrid. Even his destrier’s hooves seemed heavy as their neared the home. Simon wasn’t just anyone, he was William’s friend and William counted few as his friend. As they reached the edge of the property, the door flew open. The woman was young, petite and drying a plate with a cloth. “What? What is all the wailing? Who di-” As the word left her lips, she realized her father’s horse was tied to the back of the wagon. “No!” She dropped the plate and the cloth, gathering her skirts and taking off in a run that would beat most young boys. She cut through the yard screaming. Climbing up into the back of the wagon, William was hit with a painful memory, a wretched sense of deja vu.

Her screaming reminded him of Marian, when her father died, was horribly murdered.

“Who did this? What happened?” She fell across the body, screaming and crying in a way that only women could. Finally she sat up on her knees and pushed her hair back. For the first time, William got a good look at her. His heart sank and he had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming out her name.

Genevieve!

~~~…~~~

Vivienne’s entire world came to a complete stop for twenty two seconds when the wagon carrying her father’s dead body pulled in front of their home.

On the twenty third second, her world unraveled, realization that her entire life was getting ready to change radically unless she did something drastic and soon.

On the twenty fifth second, she turned, ready to pay vengeance on the person who caused her beloved Papa’s death. She lifted from her father’s body, pushed her hair from her face, and with furious eyes began searching for someone who looked guilty. She found that man quickly enough.

He was tall and dark, clothed in black. He had a silver streak at his left temple and sat imperious on his horse, a huge evil ebony beast that looked as if it ate small children for breakfast. For a moment, something… fear?… horror?… flickered over his features. The only thing not dark about the man were his eyes. They were light, a shade of blue that reminded Vivienne of the stained glass in the chapel of Nottingham. With a blink, his face reverted to a schooled, cold mask. As he dismounted he began to speak.

“Vivienne ette Ford-”

She launched from the back of the wagon with a primeval scream only heard before in hell, shocking everyone, but mostly the man she rammed. He saw the attack coming and braced himself on his back foot. For one so petite, she rocked him as she struck, fists beating into his chest.

“YOU! YOU! You did this! It’s your fault, your fault, damn you, damn your eyes, he did everything you asked, never questioned, he… he… he…”

The priest arrived and moved to take her. William shook his head and enveloped her, pulling her into him, relishing the contact, the jolt of electricity he knew she had to feel. Her fists continued to hammer his chest, although not as sharply.

“My lady, mon petite, I am sorry, so sorry. Your father was brave, a brave man,” he whispered. “Now you need to be just as brave.”

“Tell me who did this! Tell me he lives so I may cut his wretched head from body!” This was muffled in William’s chest, so he was the only one who heard it.

Truthfully, William didn’t know who murdered her father. The band was rag-tag and unskilled. Only one escaped and a Gisborne tracker was following him, along with a knight. William pulled her closer, feeling her heat, her anger, her grief. “He is dead.”

“It was a painful death?”

William sagged. “Aye,” he whispered, “Most painful.”

Her crying continued for some time. William held her closer.

“My Lord,” the priest was standing next to him now. “What would you have us do?”

William’s mind flew. “If their table will hold Sir Simon’s body, make sure it is clear. Take his body there. Have the women sit with Lady Vivienne. As soon as I stable my horse and inform my household, I will return with my senior knights. We’ll wash and dress the body. She should not-”

The priest was shaking his head.

“Hire gravediggers and a stonemason. I will pay.”

Vivienne slumped, William catching her. Much like a child, he lifted her and carried her into the home. Women were already there, heating water, lighting the fireplaces. One showed him to Vivienne’s chambers and watched as he laid her on the bed. It was a cluttered room, many plants hanging from the rafters, flowers… colorful pieces of hanging glass… As soon as she was settled, he turned on his heel, stormed down the stairs. He passed Richard de Glasson on his way out. “Be here in two hours to bathe and dress him. We will arrange his burial and sit with his daughter.”

“And after that my lord?”

William turned into a growing storm. “Then I have to find her a husband.”

~~~…~~~

William did not return to Locksley. Rather, he tore down an old and now rarely used path, looking for an ancient, notched tree. He notched that tree every couple of years, making sure it was visible to him, even after a century. Notching it when Roland was young had been important to him as a youngster. He continued the tradition every few years. Finding it, he looked both ways and making sure he was not being followed, headed into the brush. He followed a trail only he could see, winding his way deeper in the forest. After a short time, he entered a bosky dell, complete with a small pond and waterfall. This was his place, had been his place since he was a Gisborne.

Since he was Guy.

He jumped from his horse, threw his cloak over the saddle and began to dig through his garments gathered around his throat. Finally, he found the chain, delicate silver, and as he yanked it from beneath his linen undertunic, he found the charm, the small crucifix tucked away and hidden.

“ANGEL! VALOEL! SHOW YOURSELF!”

Nothing.

“DAMN YOU! VALOEL!! SHOW YOURSELF!”

There was a mist, a rising inches from him. If the being breathed, he would have felt it on his cheek.

Douma, The Thousand Eyed Angel of Death, stood before him, close enough to take his life. There were few things on this earth that Lord William Edward FitzGisborne – formerly Sir Guy of Gisborne – was truly frightened of. Vivienne ette Ford was one. Douma was the other. In fury, he collapsed on the earth, his hands covering his head. “You worm. You dare challenge me, demand my presence to attend you like one of your churls?”

William’s anger reasserted itself. “I did not call you!” He crawled backwards and jumped up, eyes blazing. “What a great joke you have played on me all of these years!”

“I find nothing funny, least of all, your spite.”

“My spite?” He thrust a finger towards Clun. “How long have the angels known that Genevieve sat beneath my nose for close to two decades? Did the Almighty plant her there a-purpose?” Douma opened her mouth to respond, but William interjected. “Her father, my friend, bid me to be her guardian and to find her a husband! I cannot! I love her and she knows it not! She doesn’t know who I am! Who we are!”

“Douma, please. Allow me.” William felt an immediate sense of calm, despite the chaos in his heart and mind. “He is confused and hurt, as well he should be.”

Douma stepped forward, fury written on her angelic features. “Concrescat ut ante aedis illo pro tribunali et feres super mimo praeter Anael esset vastati!”

“If memory serves me correctly,” Val was calm in the eye of this storm, “this was your idea.”

“Who is Anael?”

Douma jerked her head sharply, eyes red with fire. “Men!” She turned on her heel and dissipated into mist over the pond.

“Who is Anael?”

Val relaxed a touch and smiled. “I forget you understand.”

William jerked away, walked towards the pond, where the last of angelic mist rose in the air. He stared into it. “I read and write Latin, remember? I speak it rather well. As I recall, she made the offer long ago in this very field. She asked me, I jumped.” He took a deep breath. “Valoel. Genevieve. She is here.”

“I know. I am sorry.”

“You are sorry. A sorry lot of angels, just my luck.” He jerked his hand, gesturing towards the now no longer existing angel dust. “I kill for her, you would think she would be a bit more grateful!”

“That arrangement was made so Edward and the Despensers would leave you and yours alone.” Valoel was calmness at its finest. William was anything but.

“And I still had to send my sons away! Edward owed me. He always owed me. I killed no one without Douma’s say-so.”

“You saved many others. There are members of nobility who now owe you. Thomas of Berkley owed you.”

“And now a king who should be dead, lives on my crown.” Again, the feeling of peace and calm overtook the knight. He forced himself to stay rooted in the spot, facing away from his Guardian Angel. “Who is Anael?”

Persistent. Always persistent. “The Angel of Passionate Love. You and Genevieve are a pet project of hers.” Hands rested upon his shoulders. “Douma will get over her anger. She is not angry with you. She is angry for you.”

“You lie.”

Valoel was not upset with William’s ire. “I am an angel, Guy of Gisborne. I cannot lie. She is angry for you.” She moved away, leaving William feeling suddenly cold and bereft. “We do not know where the souls are sent, where they arrive, when they arrive. When we discovered Genevieve was so close, we did everything to keep the two of you apart.” She turned and stepped away, looking into the changing trees. “Her father should have married her far away long ago. We have presented him with many opportunities. He took none.”

“And now, I must do it. I must give the woman I love, waiting lifetimes for, away to someone else! How many times must I cut my heart out in this life?” Obviously there was something interesting in the trees as now he was focusing on one ahead of him. “I cannot divorce or serve justice to Mellisande, so I can marry Vivienne myself. Besides, I am old and Mellisande would not understand why.”

“It would not be justice.”

“Not now.” The last few missives he had received from the Mother Superior had not been good. The boys had not visited their mother save once since their return from Aigues-Mortes. She had been wild, didn’t know them. She called William a demon, Satan’s Spawn. According to the Abbess, the woman William called 'wife’ had not been lucid in some years. Over the years, William’s hate for the woman had faded, changing into intense pity. “I could plead with Edward, the Church, to set her aside, but I will not give her cousin a foothold on any of Harridston. No excuse.”

“Fulks is doing well.”

William nodded. “He loves the place. It is his and his alone.”

Val continued to look about the autumn colors of the glade. “This is a special place for you. It has changed.”

“Aye.” William was drawing inward, his thoughts, conscience, churning. “I brought Genevieve here. She was the only one I brought here. I didn’t even bring Alise here. I truly loved Alise.”

“Yes, you did. She softened many of your sharper edges.” William looked over his shoulder and glared. “She softened some of your sharper edges,” she amended.

William was back to staring down the trees. “I have never taken a mistress. I have remained true to my vows. Always.”

“That is commendable.”

“When Genevieve was taken from me, I did not lay with another woman. When I married Alise, I was faithful. I wouldn’t consider another wife after her death. I have been faithful to Mellisande. No matter I have been told by my men and a chatelaine to take a mistress. I have not. Not even a wench for the night.”

Had he been looking, the pain on the angel’s face would have been evident. “Guy, had you executed Mellisande, her death would have negatively impacted your sons. Fulks would never had seen his mother as she is; ill in the head and unstable. He would have come to the conclusion that you killed her simply to get rid of her, so you could have her lands, so you could marry someone else. You would have married someone else and your sons and eventually you would have hated her. He would have resented you. Edward would have given Mellisande’s cousin Harridston and he would have taken the property, blighted the land and populace within a few years. Keeping her alive was a kindness for others, not for herself and certainly not meant to anger you or place you in harm’s way. I am sorry. You must do what you must and I can give you no advice.”

The sense of peace ebbed away, leaving William alone in a sleeping grotto.

Gui! Lui dire! Apaiser son esprit! - Guy! Tell him! Ease his mind!

Si votre pain vos yeux plus loin en arrière, vous trouverez sans doute votre cerveau! - If your roll your eyes any further back, no doubt you will find your brain!

Concrescat ut ante aedis illo pro tribunali et feres super mimo praeter Anael esset vastati! - I would drop him on the Judgment Seat before God this minute and allow this farce to be over, save Anael would be devastated!

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A World That Will Not Turn to Ash - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 of 45 (complete) - Absence Genre:  Action Adventure - BBC Robin Hood 2006 Rating:  Teen+ Pairing:  Guy of Gisborne/Marian Warnings:  Depiction of graphic violence. Author:    @ilariaeugealtomasini

Marian found herself staring at the ceiling beams, as she was enchanted by the grain of the wood. Apparently she was lying on her bed, but she had not the faintest idea how she got there. She did not remember at all when she went back to her room or when she retired for the night and then, she noticed, it wasn't night. She was lying there staring at the ceiling and she felt light-headed.  Her arms ached and she realized that she was clutching her chest and that she was holding something soft, warmed by contact with her body. She got that thing closer to her face and she took a deep breath: she could recognize the smell of leather, horses and, mixed with them, another weak, but very familiar scent. Guy. The black jacket she clutched in her hands smelled of Guy and if Marian closed her eyes, she could imagine very well to be near the Black Knight, as always. Usually, when Marian was at the castle and Guy wasn't busy with his duties to the sheriff, he was never too far from her. Sometimes his presence, so intrusive, had annoyed her, but now Guy wasn't there.  There was his jacket in Marian's hands, but he was not there. Because he was dead. Guy. Dead.

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Together - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of 23 (ongoing) - Remember Genre:  Action Adventure - AU based on The Hobbit movie verse Rating:  Mature Pairing:  Thorin/Leah Warnings:  Character death, some chapters explicit Author:    @fizzy-custard

Thorin thundered into the small flat where he'd woken that morning. The whole place was furnished, lived in, as though the whole of reality had moulded a life around him. According to the driving license he'd found in his wallet, his name was Richard Armitage and he was forty years of age. How could this have all happened around him? His soul had somehow been transported here to reside in the life of someone else. Somehow he also 'knew' of modern technology and seemed to instinctively be able to operate a mobile phone and computer. It was as though he'd been here before, only he hadn't.

The frustration was building in Thorin as he tried to work out in his mind how he'd approach Leah. Surely some part of her remembered the kiss they'd shared as he died, or the way she'd desperately tried to help him gain control from the Dragon Sickness. In his time of mental turmoil when he'd temporarily forgotten what he was fighting for, she'd been there, pulling him back from the brink. Now it was him that needed to help her remember; to remember the silent strength that she displayed when faced with danger, and to remember the bond she'd forged with the dwarf king.

Thorin poured himself a glass of whiskey, trying to dull the ache. But the ache would not shift, and that ache was the need to get Leah to remember. It was a miracle that he'd appeared in this world so close to her; she was but a few streets away from him. If the gods really were playing a game, maybe they'd mastered the sport in such a way that gave Thorin the upper hand?

Maybe he should write a letter? No, that would be too formal and just scare her all the more. A phone call? Surely she'd have a land line telephone alongside her mobile.

Thorin grabbed the telephone book from beneath the coffee table and flicked through, looking for her surname, Davenport. There were no L. Davenports. Then it hit him to try the Rs; the phone line would probably be in her sister's name. Then he found it. The address also matched. A relieved smile crossed his face. For tonight he'd wait, and then tomorrow he'd call her.

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Thunder #17

Chapter 17 of ??? Drabbles Genre:  Romance, drama, RPF Rating:  Teen+ Pairing:  Richard/Cassie Author:    @joeybevosentmeover

Summary: Cassie and Richard are expecting their first child, and although they’re not together, things are going well. Cassie, however, can’t shake the thoughts of what Michael did to her.

“Look, the 80s are back!” I heard his voice and turned my face to find him in the crowd. The thought of him made my heart ache with joy. After all this time, after all these events, we were finally back. Or at least, so it felt. If I could just see him, I could show him that I was his and he was mine. Together. In love. I was holding Teddy’s hand, as I scanned the room to find him.

My toddler boy was so big now - walking, running, talking and laughing. Michael would be so proud. I imagined there would be tears in his eyes when he saw him. The resemblance was uncanny. Of course, he had his father’s red-brown hair and the dark blue eyes. I wasn’t entirely sure that the boy had inherited anything from me whatsoever, but I didn’t mind. He was incredibly beautiful.

“Easy, honey, we’re going to find Daddy-” I said as the toddler pulled at my arm, anxious to go, well, anywhere. I looked around the room once again, until I stopped dead in my tracks. A large couch had appeared in the middle of the room, and in the middle of it, there he was. He looked so handsome that my heart dropped at the sight. I had never felt pretty enough to be with him, and today was no exception. He was clad in dark jeans, a white, loose button-down shirt, and a casual suit jacket. His hair was slightly longer than I remembered, but I didn’t mind. Somehow, it suited him better.

Out of the blue, a woman appeared and put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you Cassie?” She asked. I nodded, while Teddy looked up at her.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” She smiled at me before leaving my side and going to the couch. She sat down on Michael’s lap and kissed him fiercely, uninhibitedly, right in front of me.

Then came another woman and sat down by his right side. And another by his left side. They all kissed and touched him while laughing at me. I heard Teddy beginning to cry, or maybe it was myself.

“Honestly, Cas.” He asked me between kisses from the women surrounding him. “How did you ever think I was going to stay with you?”

I felt my world beginning to spin. Teddy dissolved in front of me, as images of a Michael, head thrown back in ecstasy - not caused by me - haunted my mind.

I couldn’t hold back a scream as I sat up in the bed. I was drenched in sweat, my body trembling, tears flowing freely from my eyes as I tried to shake the dream off my mind. It was impossible. The way he had looked at me had my body shaking and my mind spiralling back to the night at the pub. The night when he had broken my heart. My breath sped up and my heart was racing. I couldn’t do anything but sit upright and cry, the sobs shaking my body as I let it all out. I could hardly reply as I heard a faint knocking on the bedroom door.

“Cassie?” I heard Richard’s voice speak softly to me from the doorway. I managed to let out a sob instead of an answer, and he came in. Thankfully, he only turned on the soft night light.

“Oh my God … are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

I nodded but couldn’t reply. A new round of crying made its entrance, and I was positively shaking with emotion. Richard sat down next to me and pulled me into his arms. Instantly, I felt better. The shaking subsided, but I was still crying.

“I … had … a dream.” I managed to say between sobs, before he shushed me. I felt his one hand caressing my back softly in an attempt to make me relax. I couldn’t shake the images of the dream, or the way Michael had looked. His eyes had looked exactly like that night. He didn’t care about me. He wanted to hurt me in the worst way possible. He wanted to abandon the baby.

“Please-” With hands trembling, I took Richard’s other hand in my own and held it tightly.

“What is it, Cassie?” His voice was deep and soothing, as always. I could hear the uncertainty and worry in it, and his compassion made me feel warm inside.

“Please make me forget it.”

The room was just bright enough for me to catch his eyes, and I saw the questions they asked before he finally understood. I began kissing his fingers while praying that it worked. I didn’t think of the consequences. I couldn’t.

“Make me forget … please.”

He hesitated, but didn’t back away. As I traced his fingers across my lips I watched as his resolve crumbled. His eyes closed softly and he breathed in deeply.

“Cassie, I-”

I shook my head at his words. I couldn’t handle another rejection. Not since that dream. Thankfully, he couldn’t resist. In the course of seconds, he pulled my face down to his and kissed me fiercely, wildly, with a longing that he had kept hidden for too long. My hands grasped at his shirt and tugged him with me as he laid me down. My breathing had already quickened as I found out, in the same second as him, that this position wasn’t going to work. We stopped mid-motion and both of us began to laugh.

“The baby.” I giggled and watched his face as he, too, laughed. He laid down beside me instead and caressed the belly. Carefully, I went for another kiss. He didn’t protest. Instead, he sighed deeply against my mouth while returning the kiss. Warmth spread throughout my body, and I almost felt the remnants of the dream being washed away. As I entwined my fingers in his dark hair, it felt like coming home. Warm and safe and lovely.

 ( … )

Christmas was suddenly all around, and we went to London to visit his parents and spend the holiday there. It was beyond romantic and lovely. We sneaked around their house and behaved liked giddy teenagers in love. As we arrived at their house, and his parents came out to see us, he introduced me as “a close friend”, but naturally, they didn’t believe that for a second. Thankfully, they kept their discretion. It was awkward enough as it was, being ex-lovers turned lovers and expecting a baby, the whole aspect of explaining it to them was too complicated. But even without getting an explanation, they behaved like the perfect grandparents-to-be. Richard’s mother was sweet and caring, and his father gallant and polite, much like his son. They would pamper me constantly, pulling out chairs for me to rest on and fetching blankets for me, accepting that I couldn’t dance around the Christmas tree, bringing me snacks, and so much more. Even as my hormones went crazy and I had an outburst of anger and sadness while thinking about my father, they understood. Richard’s mother embraced me tightly while I cried and thought about my own mother. She was so suppressed, so unhappy, and so not living her life the way she was supposed to be. But she had chosen for herself, and I could do nothing about it. I just hoped that she would visit her grandchild whenever he or she was born.

( … )

“Are you sure about this?” He asked while his brows furrowed. I had decided that today - December 28th - was the day when we would go shopping. London was alive and vibrant, and I needed the shopping chaos in the streets.

“Please.” I said while I arose from the chair, slowly, but determined. The Braxton Hicks contractions had been getting worse, and therefore, Richard - and his parents - had told me to keep quiet for a whole two days. I had barely gotten out of bed, and I was slowly going crazy.

“Am big girl. Can decide for myself.” I winked at him and supported the belly with one hand as I got up on my feet.

“Right.” He flashed a gorgeous smile at me and went across the room to embrace me. “I just don’t want anything to happen to my … my girls.”

I was the confused one now.

“Your … girls?” I looked up at him, perplexed, but with a smile on my face. He simply nodded.

“Mm-hm. I think she’s a girl.” He said while caressing the belly. As if on cue, the baby kicked slightly at the place where his hand was.

“Oooh, I think she agrees.” He smiled again, and the baby kicked again. I giggled as I saw the joy on his face. Maybe it is a girl? I had become so accustomed to the thought of a boy that I could hardly imagine what it would be like to have a girl instead. But of course. The more I thought about it, the more right it felt.

“Would you like to have a girl?” I asked as a round of hormones made its great entrance. I tried to pull back the tears that were forming in my eyes and looked down to my belly to hide them.

“Absolutely. I would love to.”

He pulled me into his arms and my tears began falling. Images of Richard, cradling our baby girl, made my heart flutter with joy.

( … )

“What should we call her?” I asked, slightly out of breath, through the curtain in the dressing room. The space was too small to fit both of us, especially with my huge belly and his broad shoulders, and like that, he was sitting outside while I was fitting on clothes. Despite my notoriously bad shopping skills, I had managed to find some clothes that actually looked okay. I had even found a pink dress like the one I wore in that dream a long time ago. Right now I was battling my way into it.

I was half expecting a “what do you think?” or “I don’t know?” but his reply was nothing but determined.

“Teagan.”

I tried to say it a couple of times in my head. It felt perfect.  “Oh, my God. I love it. It’s perfect!” I exclaimed. I loved it even more than I had loved the name Teddy. The baby - Teagan - kicked at her favourite spot, and I knew she loved it too.

“Oooh, she kicked! She likes it!” I looked at my reflection while speaking to him on the other side, and a round of pregnancy emotions came over me. I felt tears appearing once again. Richard and me. Richard and me, and Teagan. The tears became sobs, and I felt like I could explode with love and happiness. Naturally. Richard heard me, and entered the small room, even though there was nowhere near room for the both of us.

“Are you o.k.? Oh, wow … okay, wow, Cassie.”

I reassured him with a smile through the crying, but he still looked perplexed. I found out that he was staring at the dress.

“You … look … absolutely stunning.” He said while taking in the sight of me. I looked at my reflection through the happy tears that were beginning to subside. Aside from the cry-face, he was right. I looked glowing. The dress fitted me perfectly, and there was room enough for the belly to grow more. I smiled and kept on smiling as he placed a kiss on the side of my neck. I was completely, utterly, irrevocably in love. Things were going to be great. As his hands snaked around my waist and caressed the belly, I closed my eyes with bliss. For a second we stood there, enjoying each other, until a sudden movement from the baby startled the both of us. Immediately after that, a contraction appeared. I bucked as the pain shot through my abdomen and had to catch my breath immediately after. Richard, of course, was right along with me. I didn’t even have to say anything to him before he had picked up the phone from his pocket and found the number of the nearest hospital.

“Yes … yes, my name’s Richard … my girlfriend is having contractions. She’s in week 27+4. We’re coming in.”

[rafrustration]

Thornton Drabble # 5

by Pollysthings

December 23, 2014

Margaret was not in the mood for another family meeting, she couldn’t bear it anymore, her Granny telling her she needed to find a man who could provide for her. Are we living in the 1940’s? she wondered.  Her Uncle George singing Maggie Majy over and over, little Johnny pulling her hair… enough!  

Mum couldn’t make her go, no matter how delicious Aunt Eliza’s stuffed turkey was… she wouldn’t go. She was determined, and she told her mother about that.

“Do you prefer to go to my family’s dinner darling?”

Oh no the perspective on that was much worse than spending the night with the Thorntons…

“Manchester or Sheffield darling?” That’s what mum would ask.

Lucky Jack, her brother, was at his wife’s family’s dinner for pizza and popcorn, he said.

It is about time I tell granny I’m an atheist, she will hate me for that and won’t want me there anymore. But then… the house, the house where John and Margaret had lived… the house where they had loved each other, fought each other, encouraged each other… the house where they had children who had children and created the family she was born into. And the name she had inherited… Margaret Hannah Thornton, each and everyone of her names had a reason to be.

Margaret was John’s love and Hannah was his mother… Margaret and Hannah never got on well… they never liked each other, but they found a way to be on good terms. It took generations until one baby was born to bear their names in one. United under the name of Thornton, John’s name. He was the key.

[rafrustration]

Thornton Drabble #4

by Pollysthings - for Nat

December 24th, 2014

When Margaret took off her coat and left it on the back of her grandfather’s sofa, Aunt Eliza, who had expected her to do so, took it, folded it carefully and put it in the old wardrobe where Margaret knew would be kept the Christmas presents.

Uncle George was reading an old newspaper and watching the television at the same time… Johnny was mesmerized by it. The Wheel of Fortune was on and the toddler was singing the vowels, clearly he hadn’t learnt the other letters yet

“He’s the smartest child of the class!” Aunt Ann (Uncle George’s wife) would say.

Well, he’s in children’s school, we’ll see, you pretentious peacock… thankfully Margaret never said that to her, but Johnny seemed to be an ordinary boy of three, only three… even Einstein would be prevented from eating his Lego at three! Oh there she was, on the phone as usual… where’s her mobile? Why on Earth does she have to use granny’s phone? Well I know why… but why does no one say anything to her? I would, but the last time I did mum took me to my bedroom and wouldn’t let me go out until she had left the house. When was that? I think I was 16, and yeah she was insufferable back then.

“Margaret Hannah Thornton!” she heard granny call her “Come here let me see you! Oh dear, what have you done to you hair? Have you gone mad?” the old lady rearranged the blanket on her lap. “Push me to the window, will you darling?” Granny was sitting in an old wheelchair since she fell in the garden a few years ago. “Is it yellow?”

“It’s blonde, gran, I had it dyed last week, don’t you like it?”

The old lady made a face, shook her head, and then she pointed at one of the wardrobes behind her.

Margaret opened it and following Granny’s instructions she found a frame in one of the inside drawers, under a few layers of white cloth.

“The woman in that photograph is Margaret Thornton, born Hale. Now, there must be a mirror there somewhere, find it.”

But Margaret didn’t need a mirror to see that the woman in the photo was exactly like her, or better said, she was exactly like Margaret Thornton.