Okay, so, for the prompts, I really need more Miranda in my life so anything that you'd like to write involving her with James and/or Thomas, angst or not, would be great, here's some one-word prompts, take your pick: ledge, echoes, violin, hunted, reason, endearment, lie
HI GUESS WHAT! I decided to do ALL OF THEM but I challenged myself to only write drabbles because uh. Well you know what I usually do. XD Here you GO!!!!!!
The sea is rougher than Miranda had anticipated. Of course, she’s read of it. Seen the kind of power the waves have.
But for months now she has also associated it with James. James, who, for all his fury and power, is more soft and vulnerable than any man she has ever known. Eager to be known, and to know. Perhaps some part of her had assumed the sea would be the same.
She grips the rail of the ship and leans slightly over the ledge - gazing into the dark, impenetrable depths. The sea, she decies, is nothing like James.
A loud thump jolts Miranda awake. The wind howls against the sides of the house, blasting the windows and sneaking in through cracks. A storm that has been brewing for quite some time now has finally arrived in Nassau.
She looks around and the source of the noise quickly catches her eye - the wrongness immediately apparent. The portrait of her and Thomas has fallen. Even in the low light she can see, one of the frame’s ornate edges has broken.
She looks out the window. James is due back soon, and she hopes he is not caught in the storm.
The telltale sound of Thomas playing the violin lilts through the halls of their home and Miranda follows the sound to the great room. Although the door is slightly ajar Thomas is not alone, and pauses just outside.
James sits in one of the chairs, his attention completely absorbed in Thomas. Miranda has to laugh at the way that Thomas is clearly just as distracted; his fingering is markedly sloppier than usual. She assumes he is counting on James not commenting on his preoccupation as they stare at each other. Still, the sound is beautiful, and she lets them be.
The letter burns in her hands. Miranda has read the words so many times now she knows she will see them in her sleep. In her nightmares they will haunt her.
They had fled - wounded beasts fleeing the hunt. They had left Thomas in the hopes that without their presence Peter would be able to help him. They had been fools, and now they have been struck again. For James she knows, this will be a fatal blow. For her.
Well. For her, she thinks Alfred is about to learn that even beasts of prey have teeth.
“What don’t you understand?” James’ harsh voice makes Miranda recoil.
“You want to continue to fight for Nassau, even though it has caused our ruin - has cost Thomas-”
“That is exactly why I want to see this through! Thomas-” James falls silent and Miranda realizes, taken aback, that there are tears in the corners of his eyes. When he speaks again his voice has fallen to only just above a whisper.
“Thomas gave his life for this. I cannot let it be for nothing. I cannot let him-”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
“What do you think of “Darling?”
“Hm?” Miranda looks up from the book she is reading to see Thomas standing in the doorway of their study, a pensive expression on his face.
“For James. Do you think he would take offense if I called him darling?”
Miranda considers that. Considers the delight both she and Thomas have found in causing their dear lieutenant dismay. In how lovely he looks whe he blushes and how talented Thomas in particular seems to be in producing it. She closes her book and smiles mischievously at her besotted husband.
James is sitting in the kitchen, motionless. Staring into his cup. He is no longer covered in Alfred’s blood; his hair and fingernails cleaned. Immediately upon his return he had asked her to help him wash the blood, and perhaps the grief, from his body.
He is staring at her, his expression unreadable except for the absolute loss that has cloaked him for months now.
Miranda strides over to the table, sits down and takes one of his hands in hers. The stain of blood still lingers even after the scrubbing they had given him.
