Bea Crandon

[urmilkovich]

This is so cool put in your url or your friends and it gives an mbti personality type based on your blog.

[quillington]

(via https://open.spotify.com/track/0szmjOw9XbtbQYWz0GvXSp?si=zo_2HUO6SGWfu5EFCWJEcQ)

[lizzydobbs]

💍 victor crandon + bea hartwright

Vardon had rebuilt this city from the ground up. It had been a heap of ash and decay when they’d arrived, all those years ago, and now it stood: beautiful and strong. The entire city was awe inspiring: there was nothing left like it in the world and few left who even remembered a time when the capital of Uprya was not the jewel of civilization. And at the center of it all; stood the most impressive landmark of the entire metropolis: Vardon’s own household.

Victor stood alone in one of the gardens: reflecting on his past while considering the future. In the distance, the faint sounds of music and laughter could be heard, but Victor hardly noticed anything but his own thoughts until he was roused by the sound of heels on stone accompanied by the familiar scent of rose water and ivy.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” She asked. “Brooding?” She asked, teasingly.

He turned to face her and, for a moment, he forgot to breath. She was stunning: dressed in a green dress that hugged her slender frame. “You look lovely.”

She smiled, but brushed off the compliment, “Come along back to the house. Vardon’s been asking after you.”

She turned to leave, but he reached out and touched her arm, “No, wait, Beatrice, please. There’s … there’s something I’d like to say first. It’s only, I’m … I’m not sure i know how to get it out.” He’d never been especially good with words. That had always been Vardon’s area of expertise. Victor didn’t know how to be charming or charismatic. He only knew what he felt.

“I know very well that you haven’t always cared for me. We never did get along well when you were younger, did we?” He had to smile then, even as he remembered how she’d rejected him that first time he’d finally worked up the courage to ask her to dance. They’d danced many times since then: something Victor had never been fond of before Bea had been his partner. He was afraid, suddenly, that after he said what he was about to say next, that they may never be that close, again. Still, he’d come this far. And he had to try. “But these last few months … we’ve become friends, haven’t we? I hope you know how much I value your friendship. I care for you, Bea.” He shook his head, “What I mean to say is that … I love you, Bea. I’ve always loved you. I know it’s likely that I am very wrong but … these last few months, I feel as though, perhaps, you may care for me, too? And if you do, I would ask you, darling, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

His question was met with silence. He couldn’t read her face; he didn’t know what she was thinking. He’d feared that he would be rejected straight out, but it had, at least, given her pause.

“I’d be a fool to say no.”

“And you are no fool,” He said,  “But I don’t want you to marry me because it would be foolish not to. I want you to marry me because you want to. I want you to be happy, Bea, more than anything else in the world. I wouldn’t have you marry me unless you know that it would make you happy, too.”

She smiled, filling the dark spaces around her with light. “I was afraid that you weren’t ever going to ask … that perhaps you wouldn’t ever forgive me for how I once treated you.”

He laughed, “I don’t particularly care much for myself then, either.” Truth be told, he didn’t always care for himself nowadays, either, but he felt as though he was better now than he had once been. He felt he owed it all to her. He paused, shaking his head, a more serious look in his eye, “Is that an answer?” He asked. “What are you saying?”

She took a step closer to him, entangling her fingers with his own. “I’m saying yes. I will be your wife for as long as you care to have me.”

He reached out to her, touching her check, “Until the end of my days.”

She smiled, laughing, “You may regret it long before then.”

He shook his head, “No. Never.”

[upryavictor]

Let You Go | Victor & Beatrice

[upryabeatrice]

upryavictor

“What do you mean?” He asked, confused by her question. “What will become of them? Do you truly have any doubts there? Your sister is Vardon’s wife: she will be cared for and protected until the day she dies. So will your nephew. He will be Vardon’s heir. All of this … everything … will be his.” He will rule the world, Victor thought. “You won’t have to worry for either of them.”

He knew that she will would, despite his words. He knew that she’d rather see Madeline back in the South, then here with Vardon. Victor supposed he couldn’t entirely blame her for that: despite everything that Vardon could give Madeline; the life he could provide her with … he knew that Madeline had been happy with her simple life with Sebastian Gray. There was a part of him that tried to justify everything with the knowledge that Madeline would be well looked after; that she would be safe. Somehow he didn’t think that Beatrice would see it like that.

Victor saw Vardon’s complex as a fortress that would protect them; the Hartwrights only saw a prison.

I never thought you were a fool, she’d said, and he’d softened slightly at the sound of her words. He didn’t stop to consider that perhaps that this was a lie, too. He replayed them again in his head; wanting it to be true. Her betrayal had hurt all the more, when he had thought about her selecting him as her target because she thought it would be easy: because she thought he’d be stupid enough to believe her lies. It doesn’t matter now, he thought bitterly, whatever she thought of him. He had been foolish; it had been easy … far too easy for her to manipulate him.

He wondered how long she’d been planning this. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he first met her: her spark, her smile, her wit. She, on the other hand, would have none of him. He stopped pursuing her after she’d made it clear, but he never stopped caring for her. Part of him had always hoped that one day she would change her mind; but part of him knew that she never would. All it had taken was one smile in his direction, one lingering glance for him to ignore the voice in his head that told him that he cared far more for her than she did for him. He should have listened, but one sweet word from her had been enough to silence all of his reason for ever; had been enough to convince him that he didn’t care.

He had truly been a fool.

“Enough!” Victor raised his voice louder than he had meant to, but he only wished to silence her. He knew she was right: he knew that what Vardon had done to Madeline had been cruel. Victor tried to justify it: his reasonings had been enough to soothe his own conscious but he knew the more that Beatrice said, the less he would be able to say in Vardon’s defense and he didn’t mean to let her speak ill of him: Vardon was, after all, the only family he had left now. “I know you don’t see it;” He said, voice raised, “I know you refuse to see it! It makes all of this much easier, doesn’t it, to imagine Vardon as a monster? But he isn’t. He saved us all from the monster. We’d all likely be dead, if it wasn’t for him.”

He was angry: angrier with himself than anything else. He would have stormed out then, but then he looked at her. He’d never seen her look that way before. Lina did nothing wrong, she’d whispered. Victor wondered, suddenly, if he should not have tried to interfere. He’d saved Beatrice’s life, but he’d broken her heart in the process. She looked helpless; overwhelmed with guilt. She looked as though she would have rather been dead. He softened noticeably at the sight. He had to stop himself from going to her and taking her in his arms as he once would have; to whisper comforting words in her ear.  Instead, all he could do was look on, feeling as helpless as she looked.

Victor knew that Beatrice considered all of this to be her fault. It wasn’t, he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that it had been a double agent who had given her up. She’d never made a misstep. Even Vardon, who mistrusted her from the start, thought that she was a spy. She blamed herself for her sister’s situation. He knew that he couldn’t tell her; that he couldn’t breathe a word of it. He had to let her suffer.

After her next words, for a moment, he wanted to let her. I was hoping I could manipulate you, she’d said. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides, trying to push away all of the once happy memories that suddenly came flooding back. All of them lies.

And then, suddenly, he realized that he wasn’t sure if he believed her, even now, when she said she’d been manipulating him all along. She didn’t look at him when she said it and there was something in her voice that made him doubt her sincerity. He wondered why she would lie to him, now, about this, but he was more concerned with the thought that maybe she had cared for him, even a little. He realized the not knowing might drive him mad.

He couldn’t tell her about Jack Lewis, he realized, but he could tell her about his own involvement. It might ease her own feelings of guilt and it would certainly crush any lingering feelings she may or may not have for him. At least now, he would know for sure. “It was my idea.” He said, his voice calm and cool, “I suggested to Vardon that he try to make a deal with your sister for your life. He wanted to kill you. He would have killed you. But I made him see: there are punishments worse than death.”

Bea hung her head.  So, she thought.  A life of imprisonment.  How could the thin reward - a little more time for Bea - possibly be worth so steep a cost?  She nodded sullenly as she spoke, searching in her mind for some loophole, some fix.  If this happens, if I do that...But there was no tidy solution.  Arcadia was in no position to send aid and, without external help, this would be their fate.  She shook her head.  “Victor, not a single part of that puts my mind at ease.  Every word of that sentence is cause for worry.  My sister and her child imprisoned for life and Uprya to endure the same fate.”  

She shook her head.  “It’s the one thing I never understood.  Your personal loyalty to Vardon I understand but...this dedication to his cause?”  She shook her head.  “How can you possibly think this is the right path?  I understand that he kept people safe when there was no safety to be had, but the threat is extinct: all he offers now is tyranny.  A world devoid of freedom...what’s the point in a life like that?”  She paused, glanced away.  “And it is the fate to which I have consigned my sister and her child.”

‘He saved us all from the monster,’ Victor said.  Slowly, Beatrice shook her head.  “That was a long time ago,” she replied softly.  “And that monster, Victor, is dead.  One act of charitable service does not entitle one to oppress those whom one has saved.  You think I don’t know what I’m talking about, Victor?  My father was like Vardon, very like Vardon and he was as cruel as any I’ve ever met, justifying his treatment of us in his own mind because he’d kept us alive as little children, when we couldn’t defend ourselves.  Look me in the eye and tell me that you think my sisters and I deserved the treatment we had from him and that we had no right to fight it, based on the fact that he’d saved our lives.  So, yes, I do see a monster in Victor: one he’s worked very hard over a lifetime to cultivate, and one he does not even realize is there, most likely, but one all the more dangerous for all that.”

She paused, wetted her lips.  “You know, when we first met, I was quite determined to hate you.  I thought that, if you could possibly stomach my father and Vardon, you must be just like them.”  She shook her head.  He’d taken her by surprise, certainly, but this part she had yet to puzzle out.  She thought that it was probably something she would never fully understand.  “How did you do it?  How do you stomach them?”

Bea wasn’t looking at him, didn’t see the softness creep over his features once again or the look of concern.  Instead, she was absorbed in thought, hopelessly picturing their future...all of them: Lina imprisoned; her child raised under Vardon; Victor caught in this web forever; and herself dead, very dead and very soon, and unable to help a single one of them.

His words arrested her whirring mind.  She moved slowly, as if dazed, turning to stare at him.  His words seemed tinged with unreality, as if somehow impossible.  They were the last thing she had wanted to hear.  She shook her head, mouthed the word, ‘No,’ but didn’t hear any sound.  Her throat was too thick; tears tinged her eyes.  She tried again.  “Don’t say that,” she insisted, straightened from where she’d been leaning against the dresser behind her.  She shook her head.  “Don’t.”

But it was too late, it was there now: hovering between them like an invisible film that refused to wash off.  Bea wrapped her arms around herself.  Had she pushed him - all of them - to this?  God, had it even been worth it?  She pictured Arcadia, green and unprepared, and wondered if the information she’d once fed it would even make a difference, in the scheme of things.  Or that, in her blind effort to save everyone, she’d only managed to hurt the ones she loved most.  Only Veronica had escaped more or less unscathed, and even she had been tossed into the lion’s mouth, already, but Bea’s impulsiveness.  She’d thought she’d been doing the right thing, but she saw now that this was what her heroics had brought: suffering, a price to be paid by the innocent.

So that, she realized, was why he was so insistent that Xavier wouldn’t kill her: Vardon had not only made a bargain with Lina, he’d made one with Victor.  At least, she reasoned, this meant that Vardon couldn’t kill her off without damaging Victor’s faith in him...which meant that at least there would be some positive to come out of it.  Bea wished for a cigarette or a strong drink or, better yet, she hoped to wake up next to him in their bed at home and find that this had, all of it, merely been some horrible dream and it wasn’t too late to put all to rights, after all.  But that was just as much a delusion as her idea that she could help anyone had ever been.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, shaking her head.  “Why are you telling me this?”  She wanted to hear him contradict it, wanted to beg him to do it, if she had to, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t.  She felt hopeless and sick deep inside.  She didn’t want to believe any of it, wanted to reject it all, but there was the stark fact looking her in the eye: of them all, Victor was honest, and the fact shook her down to her core.

[phabblebabbles]

💕 vera knight + bea crandon

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Vera Knight pointlessly informed Beatrice Hartwright as she loaded a very small bag into the back of a car. Bea turned around and gave Vera a sad smile.

“I know, but I want to do this,” she replied simply. Vera let out a small huff.

“Just as I thought I might have a companion in civility in this place,” she let out a rather dramatic sigh. “While I don’t envy your return north, I will confess I do envy the fact you’ll have proper tea to drink… and champagne,” she added, giving Bea a very small smirk. The other woman let out a laugh.

“So I suppose you’ll go back and… what? Finally give in to that miserable Cradon fellow?” Vera inquired. Bea shrugged her shoulders slightly, leaning against the car as the driver approached from across the way.

“I don’t really have a plan at the moment… just try to learn as much as I can to send back to Virginia… and make sure Lina and Veronica are alright,” Bea answered, wringing her hands a bit nervously. 

“I do wonder if we’ll ever see one another again,” Vera mused suddenly. She’d been at peace leaving her old friends and life behind when she left for the south and had been overjoyed the moment Bea had stumbled into their camp. But after only a short stay, she was leaving, returning to the north to spy for Virginia and the forces working against Vardon. Though Vera knew how noble it all was of her dear friend, she somehow found herself feeling even more alone than when she first arrived among these strangers in the south. 

 Bea reached out, grabbing her friends hands in her own and squeezing them tightly.

“Of course we will,” she reassured Vera. “This can’t last forever… and once its all over, we’ll get you a properly cushioned seat and have tea with Lina and Veronica, just as before.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me,” Vera answered with a laugh. The driver arrived, announcing it was time for them to depart. He would take Bea most of the way to the border in order for her to make her way back to the Capitol and begin her life as a spy for the south.

“Oh, my dear, dear Bea,” Vera reached out to hug her friend. “I only wish you all the best and do, please, be careful. How I hate to lose you again.”

“I’m not lost,” Bea replied, returning Vera’s hug before sliding into the passenger’s side of the vehicle. “No matter where I am, you’ll never lose me as your friend.”

Vera watched as the car drove down the road, disappearing over the hill. Letting out a small sigh, she turned back towards the new place she called home. 

[upryabeatrice]

Hide Out | Bea & Jack

[upryabeatrice]

upryajack

Vera never told Jack anything.

Or rather, she never told him anything that mattered. She had plenty of opinions that she had no fears in voicing regarding things such as the clothes he wore, the general lack of flavor in the food he provided he, and his appalling manners. When it came to the contents of the messages they carried, she was as silent as the grave.

So far, Jack had had little and less he’d been able to turn over to Vardon. He hadn’t been worried: you wouldn’t know it to meet him, but Jack could be a very patient man. He had a tendency to be impulsive, but when it came to things that mattered, things that really mattered, he would always wait until the opportune moment. For now, he was on a need to know basis with Vera and the rest of them. None of higher ups in Arcadia came close to trusting him with anything sensitive. He’d have to prove himself a hundred times over before they ever did.

The night before, they’d almost been caught. There were only a few people Vera knew she could trust to help them in Uprya … Jack had been pleasantly surprised to discover that Beatrice Crandon was one of them. He greedily tucked that piece of information away, knowing that Vardon would pay him a large sum for exposing her.

He couldn’t turn her over immediately. He would have to wait. It would be too risky to do so right after the South knew he had gained this information. He would wait months, years, even, if he had to. Whatever it would take to cast the least bit of suspicion onto him. He had no intention of being rewarded by the North, only to be immediately put to death by the South.

He was glad to see her. He was starving (not only for food, but information, also. He doubted he would ever have this chance to speak with her alone again).

“Wonderful. I’m starved.” He took the scraps of food she had to offer gratefully, realizing as he bit into the piece of bread that it had been nearly a full day since he’d eaten anything.

“So, you’re married to Crandon?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, “Lucky you.” He took another bite of bread, his mouth still half full as he asked, “How long you two love birds been together?” He half expected Vera to wake from her deep slumber in the next room to scold him for trying to eat and talk at the same time.

Bea felt a pang of guilt as she watched him devour the bread, for not being able to come sooner.  She remembered well her own desperate trip from Uprya to Arcadia and she knew well the feeling...and better, still, from her father who was given to enforcing a fast until his daughter could learn to hold their tongues, and other such niceties.  It was a lesson she’d never learned, but then her sisters had taken to sneaking her food, as well.  Glancing at her hands, Bea smiled softly as she sank into a seat nearby.

“I can bring you some more, as well, if you’d like,” she assured him.  “Most of the house is asleep, now, so there’s little fear of being caught.”  There was still some, of course, there would always be some, but Bea wasn’t worried.  She knew well enough she could easily handle anything of the sort that was hurled her way.

As he commented on Victor, Bea smiled softly, nodding.  “It’s not so bad, actually,” she said, quickly.  More and more, she was beginning to think it wasn’t bad, at all.  “He’s very kind.”  It was something that could not be said for her father and it was also not something that could be said of his dear friend, Vardon.  There had been a time when, given Victor’s association both with him and her father, Bea had assumed he was as awful as the others.  In truth, she had married him with this assumption...even despite the fond moments they’d occasionally shared before their marriage, she had assumed that after it, after he had acquired her, she would fade into a sort of trophy or possession for him.  That hadn’t transpired.  If anything...if anything, it had only improved.  If anything, maybe she too...maybe...Bea licked her lips.

“Well enough,” she replied, knowing that this stranger was not, in fact, interested in her love life.  “As Mrs. Crandon, I’ve entrée into all of Vardon’s circles.”  She nodded.  “It serves us very well.”  She bit her lip.  “What of the two of you?” she asked, glancing towards Vera.  “How progress your travels?”  In truth, Bea had been a mite astonished to see the two of them together.  In retrospect, she didn’t know just what she’d expected from Jack, but when she’d met him, she realized he wasn’t what she’d anticipated.  There was something quite jarring in the contrast between him and Vera.  It was a source of some small amusement, in truth, to Bea but she doubted either of them were quite so lighthearted about it.  She also knew that they had quite recently run into a great deal of trouble, hence her own involvement.  Her curiosity, for all of these reasons, was very genuine.  She grinned, brightly but teasing, “Has Vera put you through your paces, yet?”

[echoplaylist]

Visit Original Link

Max Richter - On the Nature of Daylight

[punkrockunic0rn]

It hurts to love you

But I still love you

It’s just the way I feel

And I’d be lying

If I kept hiding

The fact that I can’t deal

And that I’ve been dying

For something real

That I’ve been dying

For something real

[upryavictor]

Let You Go | Victor & Beatrice

[upryabeatrice]

upryavictor

“I do.” He agreed. I know him better, he thought, perhaps than anyone. They’d come so far, he and Vardon. They’d come from nothing. Less than nothing. Vardon had escaped being sold into slavery and Victor had been an orphan, helpless and alone. He knew Vardon had faults. He hadn’t always known that … but he knew it now. But he was human. They all were. Beatrice had looked at Vardon from the first and saw only his flaws. Why could she not see the good there, too? He knew that it was far too late for that now.

He swallowed, realizing that perhaps that had been his fault, too. She had shown him that Vardon was human, but had not been able to convince her that he wasn’t a monster, either. The trouble had been, he hadn’t known what she had really thought. Or if he did, he hadn’t wanted to see it.

“We’ve been together since nearly the beginning, he and I,” He said. He wasn’t sure why he said it. She knew it, already. Everyone knew that. He supposed that was why she’d married him. Vardon, himself, would not have her, so she settled for the next best thing. He wanted to laugh. Even then, he wouldn’t have been her first choice.

is that really what you think of me? She’d asked. His eyes met her’s for a moment. She’d stopped moving about; hands no longer busy putting clothes into drawers. “Yes.” He said, cooly. “Wouldn’t you think me a fool if I thought otherwise?”

Victor inclined his head, “Of course he wants you dead. You should have died for your crimes a long time ago. But that’s just it, isn’t it? He gave your sister his word that he would not harm you, despite wanting him, and he hasn’t, has he?”

Her next words caught him off guard. It wasn’t all an act. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to pull her close; to kiss her; to tell her that he still loved her … that part of him would always love her … and that part of him, a part of him that he hated, even understood why she had done it. He even wanted to tell her that he’d been the one to save her. He knew she’d hate him for it; hate him for what had happened to Lina because of it … but there had been a time when he hadn’t kept anything from her. And that, he thought bitterly, had been the problem.

The last thought had angered him. He straightened and his eyes, which a moment ago had softened, looked at her now with cool indifference. “You really must think me a fool if you expect me to believe that.”

Bea nodded as he spoke.  “He’s like your brother,” she agreed quietly, looking at her shoes.  She was conscious he must think she did not understand, but she did.  She did.  She thought of her sisters and wondered, in a distant kind of way, if it had been one of them instead of Vardon...How would she have reacted?  It was a question she couldn’t answer.

Still, it wasn’t and the theoretical question didn’t matter in the long run.  After all, her sisters had each fought against Vardon’s tyranny, each in their own way: Veronica with fire and Lina with love.  Like them, what Bea had done, she had done because she had believed it was right.  In his way, Victor had done the same.  How could she possibly fault anyone for that?  Yet, no matter how similar their motives, their decisions had placed them on opposite sides of the board and now they were at a crossroads.  Now they were here, in this miserable place, though Bea was conscious they both probably wished they could be nearly anywhere else.

She wanted to ask him what Vardon’s plans were, where things were headed now, how Victor thought he would treat Lina and her child, given the way he had gotten her but...She found she couldn’t, not now that he thought her only interest in him had been finding out things about Xavier.  Ironically, it seemed wrong somehow now to ask for information honestly, now that he knew she’d come by it in a less open way.  She thought of this irony and laughed humorlessly, turning away from him again.  

Somehow, it gave her courage.  “What will become of Lina now?” she asked, running her fingers absently across the chest in front of her.  “The baby?”  She turned back to him, again.  She wanted to ask him to look out for her sister, once she was gone, but she had no right to ask favors now.

‘Yes.’ He’d said, cooly. ‘Wouldn’t you think me a fool if I thought otherwise?’

It was a blow, but one she’d worked very hard to earn.  Still, she felt it as much as she’d ever felt her father’s blows: more, because she’d deserved it; more, because for all that he’d never actually struck her.  Bea held his gaze.  His eyes burned, but his cheeks were flushed and she thought she probably looked quite the opposite.  Another small irony.  Bea shook her head.  “I never thought you were a fool, Victor,” she said, finally.  “Even when we disagree, and even when I hated you, I never thought that.  In all this mess, you were the only one who was always honest.  Maybe that makes you the best of us."  

She paused, didn’t like leaving that hanging there now that she knew he thought she was still being insincere, but couldn’t think what else to say.  She believed it, after all.  It shouldn’t have surprised her that she’d lost all credibility in his eyes, but somehow it did.  Bea had always prided herself on her utter honesty, even in the face of threat, but when she’d let that virtue cave, she’d still somehow thought of herself as honest in her own mind.  After all, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t told them all at some point exactly what she thought, even while she charmed and dined and danced and chatted them all, she’d thought herself honest because, in her heart, she’d been doing what she believed in and because, after a time, when she said she loved him, she’d really meant it.  Somehow it had eluded her that all she’d been doing was lying.  Maybe, and worst of all, she’d been lying to herself all along.

Bea laughed again, a sad sound, and shook her head.  “You think that he has not harmed her?  Separating her from the man she loves so cruelly, forcing her to be his bride, to do his will against her own, holding her here as a glorified captive - exotic and exciting to watch like a lion in a zoo!  How can you possibly think that this does her no harm?  He gave his word, yes, but already he’s broken it again and again and again.  Everyday my sister breaks her heart over these things.  How is that not harm?”  

Too late she realized that he had said ‘you’ and not ‘her.’  Bea bit her lip, realizing it didn’t matter.  She’d essentially described her own situation as well, hadn’t she?  At least she wasn’t Vardon’s bride.  That was far, far worse than any of Bea’s own punishments.  And that was the inequality that most horrified her.  How was it that Lina suffered worse than she did, herself, for the things that Bea had done?  Injustice, yes, Bea had been right.  There was no justice to be found in this place.  There had been something awful to fight here, all along, but all she’d done was drug her own sister into its path.

“Lina did nothing wrong!” she whispered, sinking against the wall.  She was close to tears, but she refused to shed a single one, not here, not now, not in front of him.  Still, her voice was choked and she took a moment to compose herself, when he spoke next.

‘You really must think me a fool if you expect me to believe that.’

It occurred to her that, like Lina, Victor hadn’t really done anything wrong, and like Lina, here he stood breaking his heart over it again and again and again.  Bea stared at him, felt a cold that wasn’t in the air wash over her.  Bea tore her gaze away, staring blankly towards the door.  “No,” she mumbled.  “I’m the fool.”  

When her reprieve had come, she’d thought as she always thought: I can fix this, now that I have some time before I die, I can set all to rights.  After all of this, it boggled her mind to think that she’d believed something so foolhardy.  There was no fixing this, no setting it right.  

Finally, after everything, Bea had come up against a wall too high to climb, a puzzle too complex to solve, a situation too broken to ever salvage.  She’d protected her sisters from an abusive father and helped Arcadia in its efforts to fell a tyrant.  Wasn’t that enough?  Was she really so proud and delusional as to think she could really do any good here?  Her magnum opus was complete and the sands of time had nearly trickled out of her hourglass. Something like this would take a lifetime to heal and hers was gone.  Her time was up.  Still, after everything she’d done to him, she owed him some sweet balm.  There was only one thing left to do to help him, now, with the time it had left, to help dull the pain.  She could make him hate her.

“You’re right,” she said, staring off into a corner.  She couldn’t look at him.  “You’re right.  I was hoping I could make you help me, hoping I could manipulate you again.  I see now you’re far past that.”  Bea wiped hastily at her eyes, laughed.  “Good for you.”

[upryabeatrice]

Garden Tea | Bea & Vera

As soon as Vera had turned up in need of assistance, Bea had determined to help her.  She didn’t have much experience hiding fellow spies, but she was finding that, difficult and perilous though it may be, she would regret it when Vera had to leave.  

It had been far too long since the two had seen much of each other and, while she regretted that she had store Vera and her companion under a trap door beneath one of the out buildings rather than put her up properly as a guest, it was still wonderful to see her...not to mention to have the opportunity for the first time in far too long to talk openly with someone.  Bea’s life was a ring of secrets and lies, a fact which pained her.  There was nothing she craved more than a little honesty - and few more honest than Vera.

“I’ll be taking tea in the garden, this afternoon,” Bea told the cook breezily.  “And, please, make some extra.  I suspect Lina might be stopping in with that fiancé of hers.”

It was not, however, Lina or Seb that Bea was expecting and, when the tea had been set out and the servants gone their way, Bea took the tray and walked into the little building.  “I thought you might be in need of some tea,” announced Bea, as she came down the stairs.  “Nothing so soothing on a stressful journey as a cuppa, if you ask me,” she added with a smirk.

Coming down the final step, she noticed that Jack was sleeping.  He seemed nice enough, of course, but Bea was relieved to have a little time with only her friend.  Glancing at the slumbering man, she shot a bemused glance towards Vera.  Bea set down the tea tray, planting her fists on her hips as she chuckled softly.  “I have to know, Vera,” she giggled.  “What on earth is it like...the two of you traveling together?”

[upryabeatrice]

Hide Out | Bea & Jack

Bea wrapped the bread in her handkerchief and stuffed it in her pocket, surreptitiously.  Bea had, until now, congratulated herself that she had gotten quite good at this spy work, but she was discovering that concealing two others while they were being searched for was far more harrowing.  Nonetheless, Bea did not regret her actions.  Growing up in a land infested with flesh-eating dead had taught Bea how to creep about unnoticed from a young age, smuggling food out to her younger siblings whenever necessary.  She told herself this wasn’t much different.  Of course, Vardon’s agents were much more clever than the walking dead, but the principles were the same: if she were caught, everyone died.

She had already picked up some other food, concealed in her purse, and saying a few farewells, she made her excuses and her departure.  Since Victor had arranged for them to have dinner with a few friends, it would have been too suspicious to make anything at home which, until today, had been her chief fallback, but she felt that she had been very efficient in stealing food from their neighbors.  Besides, she realized, there was something awfully satisfying about feeding Arcadians right out of the larders of Vardon’s most powerful allies.

Fortunately for Bea, when they arrived home, Victor had some work that required his attentions and so he went off to shut himself up in his study for a few hours and Bea seized her opportunity.  She stole across into one of the outbuildings on the property, lifted the false floor - left over from the days of the undead and now largely in disuse - and whisked down the stairs.

“I’m sorry to be so late,” she began, but then seeing Vera was already asleep, in the make-shift next room, she lowered her voice and addressed Jack.  “How does dinner sound?”

[wulfhalls]

c o m e   b a c k

[fuckyeahkeira]

[upryavictor]

Let You Go | Victor & Beatrice

[upryabeatrice]

upryavictor

“Vardon does not go back on his promises to others,” Victor said, sternly, “Your word may mean nothing to you, but it is everything to him.” But that was why he was here, wasn’t it? He trusted Xavier with his life … he trusted him more than he trusted anyone else in the world … and yet, he worried for her safety. Xavier had never liked Beatrice. He had only ever tolerated her for his sake. He hated to think what might have happened, if Madeline had not saved her. Still, Xavier was used to getting his way … and while this move had secured him his latest wife, it still meant that Beatrice remained unharmed. He knew that Beatrice’s presence remained a problem that Xavier only waited for the right time to annihilate. He didn’t care to admit it, but she was right. It was only a matter of time.

He hoped, by then, he wouldn’t love her anymore. If he did …

He swallowed, pushing those thoughts away. It would not do to think of them, now. He could not let her see the cracks she’d made in his armour. “If he had wanted you dead, you would have been dead already.” He said with so much conviction that, for a moment, he almost believed it himself.

Her invitation to stay had caught him off guard. He hadn’t meant to be there but a moment. It was all he would need to see that she was well … and he knew he didn’t have much of an excuse to be there longer than that. He almost took a seat upon her invitation, but he refrained. “I’m not staying.” He announced, “There’s lots of work to be done.”

Still, despite this declaration, he made no move to leave and only slightly readjusted his position to make it easier for her to unpack what he had brought her. When her back was turned, he made a motion to the servant to leave them.

He’d wished he had left, however, when she asked him about home. Their home. It wasn’t much of that, now. They’d both abandoned it. He didn’t know what he was going to do with it. He could sell it, he supposed, but he wondered if he could ever see it in the hands of another. He knew he couldn’t ever go back, without her, either. It would remain untouched for decades … perhaps after his death his children would breathe some life back into it. That thought gave him a brief moment of happiness … until he realized he wasn’t likely to have any.

He stood in silence, realizing he still hadn’t answered her question. He found he didn’t know how. He didn’t want to tell her that he hadn’t been there in weeks: that walking the halls where once they had been so happy was now a torment to do alone.

“As they always have been.” He said, finally, even though it was far from the truth. “Perhaps better now, then when you were last there. More a home now, and less a stage … there’s no more need for playacting.”

Bea eyed him seriously for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together.  He was behaving defensively - she knew him well enough to tell - and that was understandable, but she wondered how deeply that went and just where true belief began.  Did he sincerely trust so much in Vardon?  Did he truly think that Vardon had forgotten the pebble in his shoe that was Bea?  

After a moment, she formed a smile, nodded.  “Well,” she remarked, softly.  “You know him much better than I do,” she said, but she was not convinced.  It was true, she did not wish to see him live under this delusion, but she knew he’d soon be divested of it - or at least begin to doubt - when Bea’s body was discovered after some awful “accident” that had taken her life...and she did not wish to quarrel with him.  Bea didn’t know if she would ever see him again and she would much rather do what little she could to make it up to him - or at least apologize - than pick a fight over Xavier Vardon.  He’d destroyed enough lives already - theirs included - he didn’t need to take any more from them.

“Your word may mean nothing to you, but it is everything to him.”

Bea’s look was searching, eyes seeking to find the reality.  “Is that really what you think of me?”  She studied his face for a moment before turning hastily back to the clothes.  Pointedly she stowed them, trying to focus on the order she wanted - sweaters, here; shirts there - but his words ran through her head like a refrain.  

She deserved it, she’d earned it, but that was why the blow smarted - it was far worse for ringing true.  All this time, she’d told herself she was doing her duty, the right thing, helping this wretched world when it needed it most.  She’d believed her word, duty, sacred honor satisfied.  Had she betrayed it, instead?  After all, she’d made vows to Victor, too, when they’d married.  What exactly was her word worth, now?  

Glancing over her shoulder, Bea laughed.  “Don’t be silly.  I think we can all agree that he certainly wants me dead.  If Lina hadn’t interfered, I certainly would be.”  She imagined that Victor most likely shared those sentiments.  That notion was a slap in the face, though not entirely surprising, itself.  How he must hate her now!  She wished she could change his mind - though he had good reason to feel that way - but she wondered if it was really for the best.  If he went on hating her, well, perhaps that was for the best.  Bea grasped the edge of the open drawer, staring blankly at the dresser without really seeing it.  

However he felt about her just now, she knew she’d hurt him deeply.  She tried to puzzle out how he must feel.  Bea had had her share of damaging relationships, but she realized no one had ever treated her as she had treated Victor.  After all, even the people whose hatred wounded her (her father being the glaringly obvious example) had at least had the decency to be open and honest in their way.  She had never been betrayed.  Victor had been stripped of that - and the armor had came with it - and utterly blindsided by her actions because he had loved and trusted her.  And she’d inadvertently made a weapon of his devotion.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she murmured, still facing the dresser.  She hadn’t really meant to say it out loud and, now that she had, her voice sounded small in the gaping silence; wildly inadequate in the face of what she’d done.  It was like setting sail on the ocean in a boat made of paper.  It would not do; would have been better perhaps had the journey not been begun at all, but she could not recall the words now that they’d been said.  Bea turned to face him again.  She knew it didn’t matter if she hadn’t intended the pain - it had come all the same.  “There’s no more need for playacting,” he’d said.  Bea swallowed and continued.  There was nothing for it but to continue now that she’d begun.  “It wasn’t all an act.”

[2000yardstare]

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[thelovejournals]

Sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you.

David Henry Hwang, M. Butterfly (via thelovejournals)

[lizzydobbs]

⭐️ vardon + cardon

So the other day I was thinking about the first party that they ever went to???? Like I’m sure they had lots of ~celebrations~ on the road to victory, but I’m talking about the first time that Xavier ever held a proper formal event. And omg, I feel like Victor was so!!! stiff!!! and uncomfortable. And like, they def had a Bingley/Darcy convo (yes, Xavier is Bingley in this situation lol just go with it ;DDD) where Xavier is all “I’ve never seen so many pretty girls!!!!! (i’m gonna marry all of them ;DDD) and Victor is like “You are dancing with the only handsome girl(s) in the room.”

And then grumpily being like “return to your partner and enjoy her smiles. you waste your time with me.” bUT you know xavier didn’t just let his bff hang out by himself when they were supposed to be having fun, and i FEEL like he got victor to loosen up and have a few drinks and I feel like victor even got tipsy and maybe had his first kiss and for awhile actually liked parties but then he met beatrice and omg can u imagine pre-spy!teenaged beatrice being asked to dance or something by victor??????? i feel like they had the UPR version of this convo

victor: hey can i have ur number?

beatrice: *while texting* sorry i don’t have a phone

and that’s the last time victor was any fun at a party. (another reason why xavier hates beatrice???)