Summary: Set in 1920, Emma and Killian are on their way to spend the Christmas weekend at the Jones family estate. Overbearing older brothers, societal pressures and norms, separate sleeping quarters, and secrets being kept left and right could make for an interesting holiday… to say nothing of the current thorn in the nation’s side. Prohibition.
A/N: Ho, Ho, Holy cow I am actually getting the first part of your gift posted before the end of the year. It’s a belated Christmas miracle!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year @snowbellewells! I was your Secret Santa! It has been an absolute delight to write this fic for you. I’m just sorry it isn’t entirely finished to post all in one go, but I promise the second half is will be posted soon.
I know you will get a lot of the references in this fic, but I do want to point out a few things and give some background for everyone else. I set the fic in 1920 because Marta said it was one of her favorite time periods, AND because it allowed me to work in some things we learned when we went to the Prohibition Museum in Savannah this past fall. I also named the Jones family estate in Marta’s honor, so if you are confused as to where the inspiration came from, it is entirely tied to my giftee and not to canon.
I hope everyone enjoys the fic, but especially Marta for whom I could not be more grateful. All the support you have shown over the years has meant the world to me, and I am SO GLAD we finally got to meet in person this year and will be reunited again in the next. All my love!
Also, shoutout to @cssecretsanta2020 for putting on another incredible event and thank you to those involved in running it this year! You guys are awesome. A special thanks to my bestie @kmomof4 for giving this the once over and, when necessary, cracking the whip!
Rated T (for now?) / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!
Part One
December 1920 - Maine
The scenery from the passenger seat was picture perfect. A forest of tall, snow-covered pines flanked the road, with an occasional dot of red punctuating the green and white from a perched cardinal. Snuggling down into her fur coat, Emma Swan Nolan leaned against her man and rested her head against his shoulder.
“Staying warm enough, love?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road to avoid obvious slick spots.
“Mmmm,” Emma hummed contentedly. Having spent her childhood in a Boston orphanage, she was accustomed to the cold. Usually she hated it. Hated the feelings and memories it brought up. But just now she didn’t mind it. It gave her an excuse to stay close to Killian during the long drive.
“Not much longer now,” he told her, his grip on the wheel just a tad too tight for a normal, leisurely drive. Of course, there was nothing normal or leisurely about their destination.
“You know I would have driven, right?” A sassy smile curled Emma’s lip as she quipped, “I am much more proficient at it than you are, after all.”
Scoffing in mocked offensive, Killian quickly shot her a disgruntled side-eye. “Are you questioning my ability to captain us safely to our destination?”
“Oh, no,” she replied. “I know you’ll get us there safely. I’m just saying, if I were driving, we would have been there by now.” Another teasing smile pulled at her lips and she mischievously glanced up at him through her lashes. “You drive like an old man.”
“Well, I am scandalously older than you, darling.”
His brows waggled down at her causing a giggle to spill from her lips.
“I wouldn’t call seven years scandalous,” she said, straightening up to readjust her coat around her. “But you are pretty old.”
“A demanding family and risky business ventures may have given me experience, but…” he paused and turned a cheeky expression her way before adding, “You cannot deny that I have retained my youthful glow.”
Emma chortled and shook her head as she resumed her position against Killian’s side, soaking in his warmth and allowing his solid presence to calm her nerves.
With each passing moment and bend in the road, they grew closer and closer to their final destination. The place they would be spending the holiday weekend, celebrating with family and friends, for the first time as an official couple.
The Jones Family Estate - Pendleton Wells Manor.
Of course, this was just one of many properties Brennan Jones, Killian’s father, had acquired during his lucrative and, some would say, ruthless time as a Captain of Industry alongside the likes of Carnegie and Rockefeller. However, unlike many of the other Captains, Brennan had two capable, studious, and enterprising sons to whom he could leave his legacy when he passed. Killian’s older brother, Liam, had taken on the role their father had left behind, carrying the weight of the Jones name almost entirely upon his back, while Killian worked to prove himself and advance the family business into the modern age.
Whether Liam - or the Modern Age - was ready for it or not.
After several long, silent moments, Killian reached down and took Emma’s hand. Squeezing it gently, he murmured, “Relax, love. My brother has always adored you.”
Emma returned the grip and sighed. “As David’s little sister, maybe. Neither of us are certain how he’ll react to my being your girl.”
It was true, Emma had known the Jones brothers for much of her life. The Nolans had taken her in when she was eleven; the matriarch, Ruth, had found her digging through their trash looking for food after she’d run away from the orphanage. Again. After seeing the appalling conditions of the orphanage, they had elected to officially make her their ward and set up a fund for the nuns who ran the establishment. Although Emma was pretty sure her guardian, Robert, had done it to boost his public perception more than out of a sense of altruism. The Nolans may not have reached the fortune or status that the Jones had, but Robert, then his sons, James and David, had done well enough to find themselves within the same social circles.
Which had put Emma in those circles by proxy.
And, yes. Liam had always been polite and cordial with her, especially as his friendship with David - the only surviving Nolan left and the one member who had ever really felt like family to her - had matured over the years. It wasn’t until she was well into her adolescence, that she met the youngest Jones. Killian had been sent to live with relatives in England, attending boarding school then university before returning upon its completion. She hadn’t liked him at all back then, with his flirty demeanor and devil-may-care attitude.
Okay. That was a lie. She’d been immediately smitten, but refused to admit it to anyone, especially herself. He was a rogue. A rake. The black sheep of the family, with a new girl on his arm every week and a fresh black eye or split lip almost as often. It wasn’t until the death of his father that he finally turned serious attention to the family business and his role within it.
Which happened to be about the time David married Mary Margaret, and Emma and Killian were properly reacquainted at their wedding.
Little did the wedding party know that the two had been improperly reacquainted days before during an illegal canon-ball run. Emma would never forget the look on Killian’s face when he discovered it had been a woman, and his older brother’s best friend’s little sister to boot, who had bested him and his Blitzen in the point-to-point car race.
Of course, the bastard made her pay for it with teasing threats to expose her extracurricular pastime during the wedding unless she shared a number of dances with him.
Not that she really minded being in his arms half the night, especially when it seemed to irk her brother so much.
“I understand your trepidations,” Killian commiserated, pulling Emma back into the moment. “I am not relishing the face-off I am likely to have with your brother as he interrogates me about my intentions.”
They shared an amused and knowing look with one another before setting their eyes back on the road and the grand house that was now coming into view.
Killian had only just parked when a bevy of servants emerged from the house. Two footmen collected their bags while another man, the family chauffeur Emma presumed, took the keys to Killian’s Bentley to stow in the garage. With a firm yet gentle hand at the small of her back, Killian led her up the steps and through the front door where their host and hostess were waiting to greet them.
“Welcome home, little brother,” Liam boomed, taking Killian’s outstretched hand and slapping him affectionately on the shoulder.
“Younger,” Killian muttered exasperatedly before turning his attention to Liam’s wife. “Belle. So good to see you.”
“And you,” Belle replied, turning her face towards him so he could place a brotherly kiss at her cheek. “It’s been too long since you’ve graced us with your presence.”
Killian opened his mouth to respond, but Belle promptly cut him off.
“You are forgiven, however, considering the peace offering you’ve brought with you. Emma!” Belle hurried toward the woman who had been hanging slightly back and wrapped her arms around her. “I am beyond thrilled that you could join us for Christmas!”
“I… uh. Of course. I mean… thank you for inviting me.”
Pulling back, Belle kept her hands resting on Emma’s forearms as she stared up at her with kind eyes. “You hardly need an invitation. You’re practically family, after all.”
Taken aback by Belle’s pronouncement, Emma felt her cheeks grow warm as a blush swept across her face. While she hoped that she and Killian might settle down with one another at some point, there had been no mention of matrimony between them. Despite having known one another for nearly a decade, they’d only recently become an official item over the summer.
Fortunately, Belle quickly changed topics, saving both she and Killian from having to stammer out a reply.
“This coat is simply magnificent,” Belle cooed, running her hands over the soft fur before waving a footman over to assist Emma out of it.
“Thank you. It was a gift from Killian.”
Belle shot her brother-in-law a conspiratorial look over her shoulder. “Killian always did have good taste.” Turning back to face Emma, she added, “In just about everything.”
Another flush worked its way up Emma’s neck and she turned her attention to Liam, who was now approaching her. “Now, now, Belle,” he crooned softly at his wife. “Give the poor girl a chance to get beyond the threshold before you smother her.” Leaning in, he took Emma’s hand between his and stated, “We are very happy to have you, Miss Nolan. Please, make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” The words lacked proper volume due to the overwhelming feelings she was currently experiencing at having been so warmly welcomed. Clearing her throat she added, “I will.”
“Wonderful,” Liam boomed, clapping his hands together and taking a step back to address the group. “Belle, darling, perhaps you and Ashley could escort Miss Nolan to her room while I accompany my brother to his?”
“Of course!” Belle replied cheerily, gesturing towards a young maid who had been waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Ashley will serve as your lady’s maid while you’re here.”
With an air of command befitting the lady of the house, Belle led Emma up the steps towards the second floor, giving her a quick layout of the house as they went. Glancing back, Emma caught Killian’s confused and somewhat disgruntled expression before turning the corner towards the east wing of the manor.
“Aye,” Liam firmly stated. “Unless you and Miss Nolan have been recently joined by a clergyman, then yes. Separate bedrooms. I will not subject my wife to the scandal of unwed cohabitation.” Pausing, he gave Killian a stern and serious look as he reminded, “Besides, I did not think you’d wish to broadcast to her brother just how intimately you know his sister.”
Sobered, Killian conceded, “You may have a point.”
“Indeed,” Liam responded matter-of-factly in that somewhat pompous tone that never failed to grate Killian’s nerves. “Now come. You’ve just enough time to rest and wash up before meeting me in my office to discuss various affairs I’ve been meaning to ask you about until we both need to change for dinner. Formal attire required.”
Sighing, Killian followed his brother up the stairs towards the opposite wing from where his Swan had been led.
~/~
Emma spent the majority of the afternoon being pampered by her borrowed lady’s maid. A hot bath had immediately been drawn, a tray of coffee and refreshment waiting within her room after she’d made good long use of the soaking. She’d curled up on one of the chaises in front of the exquisite marble fireplace that had a warm fire crackling comfortably as she noshed on the provided tidbits while Ashley quietly performed her duties, readying Emma’s evening gown and stowing away her other garments and necessities for the weekend.
On their way to the room, Belle had informed Emma that this particular wing of the house had not been in use for a number of years. Brennan Jones had left it outdated and ignored, preferring to live and entertain in the more modernly updated west wing of the manor. After Liam had acquired it, he’d given Belle leave to renovate the east wing as a pet project to keep her occupied whilst he was away or engrossed with the matters of the family business that had been thrust upon him unexpectedly.
While Emma longed to explore and discover some of the uncovered hidden treasures Belle had pointed out to her, she had also been quite content to remain within the comfort and solace of her room. Of course, she missed spending time with Killian, but he had, no doubt, been railroaded by his brother to discuss work and give an account of the areas which he oversaw. And while she would not have minded spending the afternoon with Belle, she also did not wish to burden her when she already had so much to do in preparing for the evening’s gathering.
There was also the issue of her brother and sister-in-law’s arrival and the subsequent fawning from Mary Margaret and a peevish attitude from David over the current status of her love life.
Hoping to stay that interaction for as long as possible, Emma lounged and munched and read from the bawdy book she’d chosen to bring with her until it was time to dress. Ashley did an impeccable job shaping and pinning her hair into an elegant updo even though the modern trend for women was a shorter, sleeker style. Her beaded gown of deep green and stark black was, however, the very cutting edge of fashion and would probably have Killian telling her she cut quite the figure in it.
At least, that was what his expression was telling her as she descended the stairs, his gaze of awe and pride (mixed with just a hint of something improper) fixed upon her with a wide smile beaming from his handsome face.
“Swan, you look…”
“I know,” she quipped in a preening tone, taking his proffered arm and allowing him to lead her to the reception hall.
Festooned with lavish decorations, the anchor of which was a gigantic Christmas tree placed in the very center of the space, the hall and, each room she’d been able to sneak a peek into, simply took her breath away. Garlands and swags hung and draped from every corner. Baubles and bows garnished the lush greenery and the sparkle of golds and crystal shimmered in the glow of both candle and electric light.
Emma reluctantly tore her gaze away from the magical decor to greet her host, mildly surprised that it was only Belle there to receive them. The two women exchanged compliments on the other’s attire and Emma shared her heartfelt praise over the transformation the manor had received to welcome the holiday.
“Thank you,” Belle responded with satisfaction. “The servants out did themselves bringing my vision to life.”
“They certainly did,” a voice agreed, turning their attention to the guests who had just arrived.
“Mr. and Mrs. Humbert! How lovely that you were able to come,” Belle greeted warmly before making introductions. “I believe you both know Killian, Liam’s younger brother, but allow me to present Miss Emma Nolan, David Nolan’s sister and Killian’s…”
“Aaahhh,” Mr. Humbert drawled knowingly as he shot Killian a razzing look. “You must be Killian’s Swan. He mentions you quite often.”
Emma blushed and cut her eyes to Killian, who also had a tint of pink about his features and cresting the tips of his ears.
“Graham Humbert,” the man stated before turning attention to his wife. “And this is my wife, Ruby.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Emma replied, taking the opportunity to step closer to the other woman as Mr. Humbert approached Killian for a handshake of greeting.
“Please,” Belle said, gathering those who had already arrived and were assembled within the hall’s attention. “Won’t you all come through for light refreshments before dinner is served?”
Making their way into another exquisitely decorated room, Mrs. Humbert struck up a polite string of pleasantries. They were barely a step within the drawing room before both she and Emma were called into a corner where Mary Margaret was already conversing with another impeccably dressed woman.
“Oh, Emma! I’m so delighted you came!” Mary Margaret took her sister-in-law’s hand and pulled her in for a light yet affectionate hug. The ladies all offered introductions then spent a few moments pointing out and sharing the names and identities of the other guests. Several times Emma and Killian caught the other’s eye from across the room, struggling to keep decorum and good manners about them as they mingled.
One of the men, Arthur-something, had just asked where their esteemed host was when Liam suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Welcome everyone,” he said with a slight tone of agitation underpinning what was certainly meant to be a warm greeting. “I beg forgiveness for not immediately joining you, however, I need a moment with my brother.” Casting stern eyes on the man in question, he clipped, “Killian. A word.”
Not ones to ever pass up the chance to witness drama or feast on a tidbit that might make good gossip, the party began to move towards the door so they might overhear the brothers' conversation. Or rather… Liam’s admonishment.
“Would you care to explain why champagne is being poured and trayed for passing, and wine decanted for dinner? Or where the bloody bottles came from in the first place?”
“Relax, brother,” Killian responded with a hint of amusement in his calming tone. “It is all on the up and up, I assure you.
“Spirits are illegal, little brother, and well you know it,” Liam reminded in indignation, the vein in his forehead practically calling him to the carpet all on its own.
“Aye,” Killian acknowledged, his inflection and posture demonstrating his appreciation for how serious the subject was to his brother. “I am very aware that it became illegal to manufacture, sell, or transport alcohol after Prohibition began. I, however,” he continued on with a little less seriousness and definitely more cheek. “Having the sensible foresight to plan ahead, purchased and stored within my cellar on this property, every bottle, cask, and barrel before it went into effect.” Liam opened his mouth, a tirade ready on his tongue, but Killian cut him off with an emphatic reminder, “And the law says nothing about it being illegal to consume. Therefore, we are not breaking any laws.” Slipping his hands into his pants’ pockets, he rocked back on his heels and grinned smugly at his brother. “And I have the receipts to prove it.”
“That flies into the face of the spirit of the law, and you know it.” Liam jabbed his finger in his brother’s chest for emphasis causing Killian to pull his hands from his pockets and ball them into fists.
“Liam. Darling,” Belle called out, her words bright yet sympathetic. “It’s Christmas.” Sidling up to her husband, she made a small, signalling gesture towards the corridor behind them, then wrapped her arms around Liam’s waist. “Now is not the time to quarrel. You both need to loosen up, and…” A footman appeared at her side, a tray laden with coupes of champagne bubbling delicately in their presentation. Selecting a fizzing glass, Belle raised it in salute and in no uncertain terms ordered them to, “Have a drink.”
~/~
Champagne and merriment flowed through the remainder of the social hour and continued right on into dinner where the bubbly was exchanged for wine. The sharp clinks of the cutlery were softened by the lively conversations that happened around the table. At times the entire group joined in, discussing one singular topic brought up by the host or hostess, while at others, tête-à-têtes formed between those who were seated within close proximity of one another.
Such was the case as the dinner party began to enjoy their desserts.
“Emma. May I call you Emma?” Ruby inquired, then continued on after receiving heartfelt approval. “I was wondering…” Her eyes flicked across the table to where her husband and Killian were engrossed in their own chat, then focused back on Emma as she asked, “Why does Killian call you Swan? Please tell me there’s a scandalous and juicy reason for it.”
Emma laughed at the woman’s eager expression and jumping brows.
If she only knew…
“Swan was my surname before the Nolans took me in,” she told Ruby, and the few others she could tell were listening in. “Killian began calling me Swan as soon as he learned that. I think it was because he didn’t want to have to think of David every time he had to address me as Miss Nolan. Given that the thoughts he had of me whenever we were together were ones he in no way wanted my brother associated with.”
A round of chuckles chortled through a number of the guests and Emma caught Killian’s eye; his smirk told her he had heard her response and was just as amused by it. Her brother, however, was not, if the tight grip on his fork and the softly placed, appeasing hand from his wife upon his forearm were any indication.
She shuddered to think what his response would be if he knew the truth.
Not that what she’d said had been a lie. Killian had taken to calling her Miss Swan or just Swan right after they’d become reacquainted, and she didn’t doubt it was partly for the reasons she’d given, but she also knew that it was mainly because Swan was the pseudonym she used for racing. The name she’d used when she raced and beat him. The name she used bootlegging for him, seeing as women were much less suspected in running liquor than men were.
Killian may have been honest with his brother about the alcohol he’d stocked the manor with, but his hands were in no way clean when it came to following the law in regards to Prohibition. In addition to buying up various types of alcohol in bulk, he’d also acquired a number of non-descript properties where he could safely store it, then built a network of bootleggers who oversaw the sale and transport of the illicit goods to speakeasies, private customers, and fronts who used a legitimate business as cover for their more clandestine enterprises.
Emma knew they were both playing with fire, but the rush of it all was something that had drawn them closer. It felt good to be a little bad, and she wouldn’t deny that she found Killian’s gangster persona (a role he put on to hide his true identity) extremely sexy. No one would deny his handsomeness, especially on a night like tonight where his face was cleanly shaved, his hair styled and tamed, and his tuxedo fit him to perfection, but… There was just something about the stubbled growth, mussed hair, and tweed suit, complete with suspenders and waistcoat he’d often tuck his thumbs into as to give a glimpse of the holster that lay beneath his jacket, that really got her blood pumping.
“And do you have a pet name for him?”
The question pulled Emma from her heady thoughts and she wet her lips in order to give herself a moment of composure before answering.
“Not really, no,” she lied, casting another furtive glance Killian’s way. Who was currently eyeing her with lowered brows and a heat in his gaze she often associated with his more colorful moniker. Hook. The nom de plume he used for his underground endeavors. A name that set an expectation that he was not a man to be trifled with; a man who would not hesitate to use less than savory means to get what he wanted, no matter the cost.
Sometimes it was difficult to know which of those men Emma loved more. The wellbred societal elite who was tender, civilized, and respected by his peers, or the dangerous, savvy, and ruthless man who was feared by those who were foolish enough to cross him.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to choose between them.
“Shall we adjourn to the salon?” Belle suggested, seeing that most everyone had finished their desserts. “We have some party games planned and the gramophone set up for those who may wish to make use of it.”
A chorus of delighted responses filled the dining room as guests stood from the table to follow their hostess to the salon, many of them taking their wine glasses with them. Emma and Killian both clocked Liam waving over a servant to fill his glass before following his wife out, and shared an amused (and in Killian’s case a somewhat smug) expression as they exited the room to join the merriment that would continue into the evening.
1920 (the way this makes me wanna watch Chicago...) I had to do a little research for this as I'm not too familiar with the topic, you'll have to forgive me if it comes off too much like a speakeasy. my attempt to write this with some gender fluid flavor to it because it seems the clubs of the 20s-30s were places that allowed individuals spaces for free expression when they could not do so readily in their everyday lives.
tw light use of the slur 'fairie'
Steve was nervously fiddling with his cufflinks, tugging at his overly starched white collar. Why did he agree to come here with Robin? He wasn't some 'fairie'. He wasn't like these people. These people sure were something else. Painted faces. Men with rouged lips and high arching eyebrows. Women in pinstriped suits and pant legs. Wigs. Feather boas. Silk scarves. Tassles. Flappers.
There was no semblance of order. Who was a man? Who was a woman? Steve couldn't tell. "That's the entire deal!" Robin told Steve. He looked at her like she was crazy. How could people be happy in so much chaos?
Handing Steve a stiff drink, Robin pushed him into a seat and introduced him to the regulars. Steve politely greeted each of them, lighting cigarettes and shaking hands.
The room darkened and a spotlight centered on the stage as the long drawling whine of a trumpet kicked up. The whole club quieted as a single leg entered the limelight, tan and supple.
The spotlight widened, revealing a blonde in a gilded gown that tapered at their mid-thigh but was adorned with a train's length of golden tassels.
"Who's that?" Steve blurted aloud, only to be harshly hushed by multiple people including Robin.
The band struck up as this individual raised a silk-gloved hand and began.
They were like a songbird, beautiful and delicate. Steve was captivated, hanging on every note that they uttered. He was dazzled.
The song ended too quickly, Steve startling when the crowd burst into uproarious applause.
"Isn't he so lovely?" Robin asked, still clapping. "He?" asked Steve, not taking his eyes away from the stage as the performer took their bows.
"Yes," Robin said, "Would you like to meet him?"
Steve shook his head, "No that's quite alright... I-"
Robin was already pulling them from the stage by the arm. They were suddenly larger and looked more masculine and intimidating to Steve up close. He wanted to turn tail and run.
"You must meet my good friend," Robin stated, patting them on the hand, "This is Steve. It's his first time." Robin whispered the last part in their ear.
Steve could feel his face heating, "Was Robin telling them something good about him? Hopefully." He held out his hand in a gentlemanly fashion, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
They placed their hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, "Billy, it's charming to meet you." Billy smiled sharply at Steve, "You were staring at me during my whole performance. Did you see anything you liked?"
Steve's face flushed, "I uh... well, I just. You're a very beautiful woman. I mean man!... I -!" He cut himself off, biting on his fist in light frustration. "I'm sorry."
Billy laughed, high and rolling. "What a mighty compliment!" Pulling a cigarette loose from an case laying open on the bartop Billy slotted it between his painted lips, looking at Steve expectantly.
Steve patted his pockets in panic before finding his lighter and lighting it for him. Billy took a thoughtful puff.
"Want to come to my dressing room and tell me what else you liked?"
Hello ! I’ve been eating a lot of awesome fic lately on A03 \( ^ 0^)/ I needed to draw some of them so let me introduce you : Accidental OT3 Marriage by there-once-was-a-girl (lovely poly on main Mcspirk story, Uhura is the best), Like a breathing disaster by @d0ctorsorders (some very angst very nsfw Mckirk, not usually my jam but OMG this writing <3), Constellation by Blueberry-newt (A CLASSIC OMG I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH) and the amazing Honeysuckle, blue hyacinths, Yarrow by @not-bumper-stickers (the lovely otp to ot3 flowershop au we all deserve to read at least once in our life)
*falls from the ceiling* *wheezing* 1920 AU... but Xander! *jumps into the nearby window* Oh Yeah! Make him as a mob boss or somethin'
A-anon!! Are you alright?! I hope you haven’t hurt yourself.(,,꒪꒫꒪,,) But on the other hand I’ve come to deliver! You didn’t specify exactly what you wanted in the 1920 AU, other than Xander being a Mob Boss per say. So, here we have Mob Boss Xander who constantly worries.(*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑
pairing: No real pairing, just a big old worried Xander
words: 2.1k
Now, Xander was a kind man with a strict hand. However, there are moments where his patience is tested. Corrin was often the testing the limits of his patience, as carefree and youthful as she was. She couldn’t help but test the boundaries of what she could do. Wondering about town on her own, sneaking out of the house late at night and it did not help that a friend of hers, Silas, would help her out.
He sighed heavily at the sound of giggles and hurried whispers. If they were trying to be quiet, they weren’t doing a very good job. Xander turns the corner to see Corrin and Elise going completely silent upon seeing and giving the widest of smiles. They were planning something. He gives them a raised brow.
“Hello Xander.” Corrin says joyfully. Elise quickly joins the greetings, waving to her brother.
“Good evening, girls. Something you plan on doing this evening?” He asks. The girls look to each other, a sparkle in their eyes before looking back to him.
“Yes, planning a quiet stroll through the garden is what we were thinking.” Elise speaks, nodding sagely.
“Either that, or we were planning of going into town with Camilla to do some shopping!” Corrin added. Xander felt relieved, at least they weren’t thinking of sneaking out.
“I see but do remember the Hoshidan clan is on high alert and they will pull dirty tactics against us when they can.” Xander said seriously. He couldn’t afford a repeat of what happened to their father, gun downed and left for dead. He sees the shift in their attitudes, but it doesn’t put a damper on their high spirits.
“Of course, Xander. We don’t want anything to happen to each other after all.” Corrin said and he feels like he can trust her. For a moment he forgets how much she hates being constantly watched. He forgets that she hates being shackled down. For a moment, he trusts her to do the right thing and bring Camilla, Silas or even Felicia with them.
“Good.” He gives them a small smile. “Please don’t forget to dress warm and bring Camilla with you if you do leave the house. The nights are getting colder.” The girls give him a nod before he continues on towards his office. He felt a little relaxed, knowing that they will do the right thing.
So, when he sits at his desk and looks over the paperwork. Pen etching the ink onto the paper, his thought doesn’t waver to how worried he is about them. He doesn’t think that one of them will get hurt, he doesn’t think that they’ll be frolicking through the streets without a care in the world and instead thinks about if they’re enjoying their walk. Whether it’s in the garden of the house, making those garlands Elise loves so much. Or perhaps, they’re walking through the lively streets, Camilla and whoever by their side as they laugh.
His little trance of running his pen along the paper is interrupted momentarily when he reorganizes the papers on his desk, to realize that he was done. He nods to himself, grabbing a few papers here before taking them with him as he leaves the room. He’ll drop the papers off with Laslow before joining his sisters in town if they were there and not in the garden.
Upon seeing Camilla talk with Laslow, there wasn’t much of a concern. He interrupts their time with an apology and a quick hand. The papers are delivered, and he hopes that the girls are still in the garden. However, before he can leave, Leo walks in and asks for Corrin’s and Elise’s whereabouts.
“Have you checked the garden?” Xander says, nonchalantly. A frown appears on Leo’s lips.
“I’ve checked the garden, their rooms and practically everyone room in this house. Even their retainers don’t know where they are.” Leo says frustrated and it makes Xander’s blood go cold. Their retainers are still here?
“Oh my, they must be in town still.” Camilla said, placing her teacup down. “I saw those girls practically skipping down the road in their cute dresses.”
“Was anyone with them?” Xander asks, clenching his fists behind his back.
“When I asked them about that, they said they were meeting Silas in town.” Camilla said. Leo had a confused look on his face.
“…I just saw Silas and he didn’t know where they were, much less Corrin.” There was a moment of silence, before Laslow spoke up.
“Do you want me to round up the retainers, sir?” His voice was quiet.
“Immediately.” Xander’s voice rang through the room. Laslow was the first one to move, followed by Xander. Camilla let out a sad sigh.
“Oh dear, will she never learn?” Camilla says sadly, rising from her seat. Leo frowns.
“Even with the high alert, she’s still pulling these things off…” Leo says, turning around and going to back to his room. Knowing Xander, everyone was to get ready very quickly.
It took another 15 minutes before everyone was ready, gathering by the entrance gate. Xander slowly boiling over with anger. He knew she shouldn’t have trusted her so blindly; he should have made sure that there was someone with them. Why weren’t their retainers with them anyway? How did they even manage to sneak by everyone and tell such lies so easily? He lets out a frustrated sigh, and the murmuring from the retainers goes quiet. He looks to them all, a heavy glare towards his sister’s retainers more specifically, before he opens his mouth to speak but a shout interrupts him.
“XANDER!!!” It’s a shrill scream. He turns on his feet, a hand on his gun but his eyes widen at the sight that greets him. Corrin is carrying Elise in her arms, there’s red staining Elise’s dress on her abdomen and leg. Elise is in pain and the tears are a clear sign of that. There’s blood on Corrin’s dress as well as she comes closer, he doesn’t know if it’s hers or Elise’s. He can tell that she ripped parts of her dress to put a makeshift bandage on her younger sibling.
Xander barks orders and the retainers burst into action. Laslow, Peri, Niles and Beruka run past Corrin to see if anyone dared to follow them. Jakob, Felicia, Effie and Arthur, with extra care guide Corrin back into the house into the infirmary and for once, Xander can only see red. There’s a fiery rage that’s burning inside him. He thinks for a moment that he should join Laslow and the rest but goes against it. He isn’t in the right mindset, and it wouldn’t be the greatest of ideas to confront Corrin about this.
He tries to even his breathing, thinking on the positive side, thinking that their back in one piece. He tries to focus on the part that they’re alive. He tries to focus on the part that they’re now safe. His heartbeat slows down a little, he’s calming down but it’s not quick enough. There’s still that seething rage that he had been deceived, no, his entire family had been. There’s still that lick of anger rising when they left the house knowing that they’re on high alert. It’s still raging when they should have known and were hurt in result. He’s angry that they were hurt, and he wasn’t able to protect them but, he’s glad they’re alright.
He waits in his spot a little longer, letting the cold air help him cool his raging self. The cold air feels nice against his burning skin, but it makes his lungs hurt. He doesn’t know how much time has passed when Laslow and the small crew return. They report good news that they chased down the assholes that dared to hurt his family.
“Was it the Hoshidan Clan?” He asks, an underlining anger waiting to pounce. He sees the exchanged looks among the retainers.
“No, Sir. They seemed to be a different faction from the Hoshidan Clan. Even though they tried to frame the Hoshidan Clan for the incident.” Niles reports. Xander’s anger fades even more, he’s more confused now.
“Were you able to find anything out?”
“Even though they were wearing Hoshidan colours, their emblem was on their weapons.” Beruka says, handing a dagger over. “We are not able to tell what it means, Sir.”
He takes the dagger and glares at the emblem on the pommel. It takes a moment before he can say he truly recognizes it. It was the symbol of Anankos. It was a very old but remembers it from the ancient stories his father would tell him when he was younger. He remembers the brief time he would tell Corrin about them as a bedtime story, but that was a long time ago.
“I see.” Xander stares at the dagger a little longer before addressing the retainers. “I want you to set up a perimeter around the area. Take turns and make sure, no one enters or leaves the premise unless they have strict orders to do so. Dismissed.”
They leave without another word and he’s left to his own devices once again. He’s relieved that it wasn’t the Hoshidan Clan, but having a new enemy still bothers him. He thinks back to his Father’s assassination and all the odd loose ends but shakes it off. He leaves to head inside; it was a getting very cold.
--- --- --
The next time Xander sees Corrin was later that night, sitting on the floor by the infirmary. There were a couple bandages on her arm but that was the extent of her injuries compared to her sister who was in worse condition. Her white dress was stained red and ripped, he notes the black sash she usually wears with it is now gone. He feels a heavy weight against him upon seeing the glassy look in her eyes as she stares ahead at the wall in front of her. Too lost in her own thoughts to have realized he was there.
“Corrin…” He calls out gently and her head snaps in his direction. Looking up at the man standing in front of her. He sees so many emotions pass through, surprise, guilt, shame, and sadness before she looks down towards her toes. Pulling her knees towards her chest tighter than before. “It’s not comfortable to sit on the ground.”
“…I know…” She said quietly. Silence blankets them for a moment as she doesn’t budge from her spot. Xander frowns and he moves to sit beside her. It doesn’t pull a reaction out of her, but he speaks.
“She’ll be alright, Corrin. You were quick to react, and I heard you did a good job making the makeshift bandages.” He says lowly. He tries to point out the things she did right despite the situation, knowing that pointing out what she did wrong tonight will not help. Xander knows she’s probably tearing herself apart, reprimanding herself for being so careless.
“…Just because I did react quickly and got her back safely doesn’t change the fact that I got her hurt. I should have never convinced her to go alone with me. I should have taken someone with us!” Corrin explodes, emotions bursting one after another like fireworks. Hot tears fall down her cheeks. “But I didn’t, and Elise got stabbed. What if they had a gun, Xander? We’d both be dead.” She turns and he can see the unsaid message; why aren’t you angry at me?
“Corrin.” He says gently again, trying to calm her. “The night may have gone awry, but after some thinking, I’m just glad that the two of you are back in once piece and safe for the most part. Elise will heal from her wounds and I’m sure you’ll take the events that happened tonight seriously and refrain from such behaviour in the future.” Xander gently pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly as she continues to cry.
“Of course, Brother…!” Corrin sobs in response. Holding on tightly, not wanting to let go anytime soon. Xander rubs slow circles on her back as he holds her. His anger towards Corrin and her behaviour had settled as he walked around the garden thinking and wondering, trying to be rational and not think too emotionally. He didn’t want to say anything horrible to her, and he’s glad he took that walk in the garden. He much preferred this outcome compared to what could have been. She knows what she did wrong, she doesn’t need him to repeat what she did wrong. So, he stays silent, hoping to offer some comfort but also guiding her and helping her to learn from her mistakes. After all, it’s all he wants to do.
Was listening to a lot of electro swing & a particular song called ‘bust your kneecaps’ made me think of drawing 1920’s cryle pic. Obessesive Mafia member Craig x Poor awkward Kyle! What can I say, obsessive Craig really got me interested. I am trash, thank you. 🗑 XD
