#nothing makes me sob more than the beatrice letters

[lins-fandom-hub]

09/01/1998 (1)

Part 1 || Part 2

Here’s part 1 of a 2-part fic that I wrote that commemorates Clara’s Hogwarts friends/peers lost to battle against the forces of evil.

The concept of time was humankind’s greatest enigma. It cared not about what happens in the life of any one person. Like the river in the wood, it flowed, knowing not of the stones overturned or the sediments caught in its current. Once a mark had been made, there was no erasing it; once a phenomenon had come to pass, there was no reverting it to what once was.

Time was supposed to help the dust settle over the ruins. Thoroughly damaged beyond repair, yet shrouded in the remnants of what once transpired, the image of what history left behind would only be made clearer after time had passed. Time was supposed to help the physical cuts heal. The open lacerations seeping blood through the flesh would have scabbed and closed with patches of new skin depending on how deep the wound was. Even as they happened, though, time would never let anyone forget the phenomenon that had ensued. Time didn’t care how anyone healed, grieved, smiled, or cried.

Time certainly didn’t care how anyone lived or died.

Clara closed her fingers over her wand and stood from her chair, empty eyes that once bore tears lingering on the sunny scenery outside her window. All those years ago, she had prayed for a sunny day to greet her on the day she departed home for Hogwarts, and every year, it had always been either cloudy or rainy--she even remembered the stormy day that commenced her third year all too well. A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked at the clock by her writing desk--it was 9:00 am. If she was still a student, she’d be travelling right now in one of the Ministry cars her father borrowed from the Ministry with him to King’s Cross Station, her mind abuzz solely with plans to find Jacob and bring him home. If she was still in China, she’d be drilled through military exercises set by the captain of the Chinese Wizarding Task Force without a single thought of her past. Those days were long gone, though--the past was now behind her. Today was a special day, but not for a good reason. Today, she and what remained of her circle of friends would throw a special celebration in memory of all the friends who had fallen, and all of those who sacrificed their lives to help Harry Potter defeat Voldemort at Hogwarts.

Merlin...the Battle of Hogwarts seemed so long ago. It had taken so long for the dust to settle over the relics, but she couldn’t move past the horror that she had witnessed. Her chest ached as visions began to swim in her mind--the corpses of her friends lying in the rubble, the crack of every spell relentlessly attacking those who still remained standing. She recalled the number of spells she had to deflect with her steel fans from the Task Force when her protective barriers shattered, the triangle of Death Eaters surrounding her at once threatening her to collapse. If she closed her eyes, she could see every misfired curse shattering the stone walls, tossing bodies back as if they were only rag dolls…

The soothing touch of her fiance’s fingers tracing over her arm eased her breathing, but it did nothing to stop the tears pricking at her eyes again.

“What are you thinking about, Clara?” Barnaby asked her quietly, gently wrapping his strong arms around her from behind and holding her close to him. She could only hum as she leaned back into his chest, exhaling quietly as the tears spilled over her cheeks.

“It’s the Battle, is it?”

Clara nodded. “Well...sort of.” She opened her eyes, turning to face her fiance. “There was something Dumbledore told me so long ago, back when we were still sixth years. He said that if there was one thing anyone could count on, it’s death. It comes for everyone in the end. But you know how quickly it took a lot of our friends--Rowan in our sixth year, Cedric the summer before I left for China…”

“I know,” Barnaby murmured, lifting a hand to wipe her tears away. “I know.”

“It’s hard,” Clara whispered. “It’s so hard…”

She buried her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around Barnaby as she tried her hardest not to sob. The terror that first gripped at her when she fought apart from him snaked its way back into her chest, not unlike the cursed ice that spread through the school in her second year. Death took so many people she held dear to her over the years, it was a miracle that she still remained standing. Rowan...Ben...Tonks...Fred...Talbott...heck, she couldn’t even begin to believe that Merula was dead, too. Even Dobby and Cedric, whom she didn’t know very well, felt like kin--and yet they too were brutally murdered long before the ultimate siege.

“What do you think they’ll be doing?” Barnaby wondered, tilting his head slightly. “You know, in the world of the dead.”

Clara winced slightly at the question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled eventually. “Maybe look down upon us like angels would.”

“I know Rowan is. She’s your best friend, after all--what best friend wouldn’t want to shield you from harm?” Barnaby said, slowly rubbing a hand over Clara’s back to calm her down.

“To think that everyone went into this battle not trying to protect me for the vaults this time, but fight against the one all wizardkind feared,” Clara mused. “I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. I just hope that what we invited everyone to do today would be enough to finally find closure and…”

Barnaby nodded as she trailed off, tilting her head up with a hand to look her in the eyes. Her glasses were smudged from the tears now streaming over her face.

“I’m sure they will love it,” Barnaby reassured her softly. “Not just all the ones still alive, but those who passed on. I know I would.”

It’s taken Clara weeks to pull herself together after the battle, and even more after that to seek solace from those who still remain. Only a few days ago did she finally settle the date of their wedding, yet it didn’t feel right to celebrate a day of union without sharing it with all their friends, alive or dead.

Two days to go. After that, our lives might change for the better.

She had to hold it together. Not just for them, but for herself too. Closure would not be given to those still vulnerable to breaking.

“Yeah,” she finally murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I would, too.”

---

There was no bachelor and bachelorette party for this couple--heck, they couldn’t imagine the consequences for the other should a disaster occur while they were apart. Instead, a few weeks ago, Clara had sent her owl, Wagner, out into the world with letters for all their friends and loved ones. Today, everyone who was willing to come would Apparate to their house, and then gather in their vast open backyard in the evening where the ceremony would commence. 

“And done,” Barnaby declared as he delicately placed the final cherry on the top of a massive white-iced three-layer cake. A slow grin spread across his face as he looked at his best baking masterpiece--no, it was not their wedding cake, but it looked good enough to be one.

That was when the doorbell rang, and he jumped, almost knocking the cake over.

“I got it!” Clara called, running down the stairs and securing her crimson crystal hair tie around the single braid over her left shoulder. “Just set the parlour up, Barnaby.”

“Will do.” Barnaby nodded and carried the massive cake to the parlour, humming a little tune to himself.

Clara opened the door to reveal Penny and Beatrice now standing at the threshold. Both of them were wearing black dresses that went down to their knees. The plaits that were normally in Penny’s hair were now combed out, her hair now split into two braids down her shoulders. Beatrice’s hair, for the first time since Clara could recall, was held back with a headband, revealing both of her blue eyes cast down with a sad glimmer.

“Clara!” Penny greeted her friend with a hug, which Clara wholeheartedly returned.

“Hey, Penn.”

Time had changed the little girls who became friends in their first year to young adults who had survived more than one war. As they broke the embrace and looked at each other, they both caught the matured gleam now stripped of whatever carefree sparkle once graced their eyes, the tragedies they both withstood in their time at school, the weariness that came with demands that required their individual expertises.

“You hanging in there?” Penny asked Clara quietly. “I know it’s been hard on all of us.”

Clara nodded solemnly. “Trying to. It wasn’t hard when the names in the list of casualties were still unrecognizable, but it’s different now when everyone you knew gave their all to protect the school and the Boy Who Lived. Not to say I regret it--”

“I know what you mean. I’m sure none of them regretted it either,” Penny assured her.

“At least we’re still together,” Clara said with a shrug. “Jacob, little Em and I at least escaped the war unscathed. And you’ve got Beatrice, too.”

Beatrice nodded as she produced another stuffed Puffskein from her pocket--almost similar to the one she gave Clara when they first met--and gave it to her. “Is your sister coming?”

“She should be,” Clara confirmed with a nod. “Do come in, both of you. We have cake and Butterbeer in the parlour, and I think Barnaby should almost be finished with grooming the Puffskeins.”

The second one to arrive, much to Clara’s surprise, was Skye Parkin, her Wigtown Wanderers jersey billowing in the wind as she hopped off her Comet 290 in front of their house.

“Skye!” Clara exclaimed upon her arrival. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it, what with training for your upcoming tournaments.”

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it? I might as well be there for it,” Skye responded shortly, giving Clara a small smile. “Besides, one of our Chasers recently came down with a serious bout of Scrofungulus. We don’t have any backup players to properly play against the Applewood Arrows today.”

“Oh. That’s a bummer. You wish I was there to step up to the plate?” Clara asked, remembering fondly her short tenure as Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“It would be nice. But I figured you need time to...you know,” Skye said uneasily, and Clara nodded in understanding.

Shortly after Skye went in to help herself to some of Barnaby’s cake and chat with Penny, Andre, Murphy, and Orion made their appearance on Clara’s doorstep. Andre’s Pride of Portree jersey flapped in the wind behind him, in the same manner as Skye’s jersey. Murphy’s colourful tie worn for all his Quidditch commentating duties was swapped today with a black bowtie. Orion was also wearing all black from head to toe.

“I told the staff that I wasn’t feeling well,” Murphy explained. “And I’m not! There’s a 95.7% chance that after such a travesty it’s hard to think of the light ahead.”

“But what is light without darkness?” Orion asked. “It’s with light that we have darkness.”

“Or should it be the other way around?” Andre queried, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing this, Curse-breaker. In a time like this, I think we all really need it.”

“Thanks, Andre. And I’m happy to see you’re alive and well too, Murphy and Orion,” Clara said, bowing them into her home where they went to the parlour to meet Penny, Beatrice, Skye and Barnaby. 

Soon, Chiara, Jae, Diego, and little Em all arrived together, the girls holding onto extravagant bouquets of colourful flowers. Jae was holding tightly onto Chiara’s free hand, balancing a large box of delicacies in his other hand. Diego’s fingers were interlaced with little Em’s, his scarf from his old school days wrapped around little Em’s shoulders to keep her warm.

“Darn it. I miss my hoodie already,” Jae muttered, his teeth chattering slightly.

“Relax, Jae. It’ll only be for today,” Chiara consoled him with a small smile before turning towards Clara. “How are you doing, Clara?”

“Faring as well as I can,” Clara simply said, smiling wanly at the group. “Thanks for coming, guys--really, it means a lot.”

“Anything to get to spend time with you, Clara,” little Em reassured her older sister with a hug. “I would not miss my sister’s wedding for anything in the world.”

Diego nodded in agreement as little Em returned to his side shortly after. “Indeed. How swiftly childhood leaves us as we emerge as veterans from a war well fought and won.”

“I just hope that this celebration would mark the first chapter of genuine happiness for all of us,” Chiara finally piped up. “With all that’s happened, I figured we all need it.”

A little while into the afternoon, Tulip, Liz, and Badeea arrived together, Badeea’s hands still smeared with paint as she brought in a giant portrait of their fallen friends. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, and Angelina followed swiftly, George still trying to hold back tears as he held fast to Angelina’s hand; Clara couldn’t blame him. George didn’t just lose a brother in the battle, after all; he lost his twin, his second half who understood him better than anyone.

How quickly everyone’s grown, Clara realized, as she closed the door behind the Weasleys and followed them into the parlour. Glancing around at her friends grabbing drinks and some of Jae’s homemade delicacies or the cake Barnaby made, talking in low voices among themselves like old friends, she could see the hint of sadness in their eyes along with the gleam of maturity that long replaced the carefree, happy spirit they once felt. They fought more than just one battle, leaving them all with more scars than they’d hoped for--yet through their grief, they remained standing strong. They had weathered through so many storms together that they became the storm themselves.

“Is that everyone?” Chiara asked quietly as she sipped from her bottle of Butterbeer, watching the large crowd mill around the parlour and the kitchen. “Or are we still waiting for a few people?”

Clara frowned as she glanced at the clock--it was now five in the afternoon, and there were still a few last stragglers she had yet to see. “I think we have Ismelda and Jacob to wait for,” she eventually answered. “Jacob I know is with my parents, but Ismelda...I haven’t heard from her since the end of the war.”

“Ismelda’s still alive?” Penny asked, raising a brow and glancing at Beatrice.

“What are you looking at me for?” Beatrice inquired, grabbing another piece of cake from the dainty multi-tiered platter on the table. “I haven’t kept tabs on Ismelda either since I graduated from school.”

CRACK!

A sudden Apparition within the house made everyone jump, Beatrice almost dropping her cake in the shock--when the smoke cleared, Clara saw Ismelda and Erika standing in the middle of the parlour, travelling cloaks fastened tight around them. Ismelda quickly drew her arm away from Erika, massaging her upper arm to rid it of the soreness in the potential death grip.

“Did you have to grip onto me that hard?” Ismelda grumbled, shooting Erika a death glare. “And I thought I already told you I didn’t want to go!”

“I had to do what I could to make sure you got here in one piece,” Erika shrugged. “And if you say another word about this gathering being nothing but a waste of time--”

“Fine, fine.” Ismelda shook her head, a groan escaping her mouth. “Anything to save you from using me as your practice dummy.”

“That’s more like it.” Erika gave her a little smirk, her eyes darting about the rest of the group. “So this is what a party for the dead looks like.”

“Not much of a party so much as it is just a time to come together,” Murphy corrected her. “And it’s a good thing Clara’s hosting this for us. I figured we all needed it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this show on the road,” Ismelda finally said. “Is there anything we can do besides just…” She gestured around the room. “Eat cake and drink Butterbeer and mope?”

“Well…” Clara glanced around at the group--it felt a lot like the Circle of Khanna all over again, except this time there was no one else to stand by her for support. The days when Ben and Merula flanked by her were long gone now, both of them now buried in their graves a few feet below. “We prepared a bonfire pit in the backyard, and enough sky lanterns for all of us.”

“Sky lanterns?” Tulip asked, intrigued. “I haven’t seen one of those in so long. They’re part of the ceremony, right?”

“Of course,” Clara nodded. “They’re an integral part, so to say.”

“Nothing’s ever been the same since, well…” Skye glanced awkwardly at the group around her. “I mean, I’m not one to go all mushy but...I can’t imagine all of us losing people we care about so much. And all of you are great people in some way--”

She was suddenly cut off by Penny embracing her in a hug, which Skye returned hesitantly, burying her face into Penny’s shoulder.

“The people who love us never really leave us,” Barnaby piped up then. “I remembered how bad I felt when Rowan died...and then I thought I would lose Clara too when she left for China. But time taught me that they’ll always be here with us no matter where they are. Bright souls will shine like bright stars in the sky, now and forever. I found a lot of comfort in looking at the stars every night.”

These words brought a scarlet dust to Clara’s cheeks, and she smiled at him ruefully as she took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Whether that was a vow intended for their wedding or not, she would never know, but it was enough for her to make her melt on the spot.

“You’re right,” Bill nodded thoughtfully at Barnaby’s words, taking Fleur’s hand and squeezing it tight. “The stars provide comfort for those who need it most. It’s really in the darkness where we can find the light.”

At this, Andre gave Orion a pointed look, and Orion just shrugged it off, nodding at Bill.

“I suppose there’s really no use in waiting any longer,” Clara eventually said--the sun was just beginning to set, and the group was getting much too large to accommodate indoors. “Let’s all head outside to the backyard. Barnaby, can you lead them? I have...something to collect from upstairs.”

Barnaby nodded at his fiancee, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Of course, my unicorn.” He then motioned to the rest of the group to follow him. “Come on outside, everyone.”

As everyone filed out, Clara headed towards the stairs and began to ascend two steps a time--the moment she reached the landing she wasted no time in heading to her bedroom and opening the door to her closet. Peering into the mass of fabrics, her eyes landed at the bottom of the cabinet, where a single dagger laid in its black sheath lined with golden dragons, laced through the leather belt she had to wear in her days at the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.

To most, it seemed like a simple ornate dagger, most likely an article of decorum worn by royals in important ceremonies. With a polished ruby pommel at the end of a leather grip hilt, and a few engravings on the blade, it looked insignificant, almost ordinary. But to those who served in the task force it meant so much more--it was a weapon she had used in the fight against the Japanese dark wizards on more than one occasion. Where magic failed, the dagger had helped her lay many a blow on those too fast to hit with a spell, those who resisted the effects of magic in ways she would never know. She fought along those who had also given their life for the cause, fought with the same blade she held now--never a day went by when she didn’t think of them. Some survived, some died, and all for a united cause.

She honoured so many of the unknown dead with this knife strapped to her side. It only seemed fitting that she did it now, too.

“Clara? You coming?”

Clara turned around just as she looped the belt around her waist--standing at the doorway to her room was her little sister, head tilted in intrigue and eyes shining in concern.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Clara adjusted the belt over her clothes and walked over to little Em. “I was just...getting this dagger. Custom to wear it for funerals when I was working with the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.”

“Ah.” Little Em nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

“No need to apologize.”

It had been much too long since Clara last saw her little sister, her little Em--four months since the end of the Battle where they fought together but not at each other’s side, never getting to see each other after the dust had settled over the ruins and the wounds had all but healed in their natural time. What once were two young children who bonded in a sole promise to protect each other within the walls of Hogwarts were now two women who had no idea how to shield each other from the other side of the world. It was only a miracle that they hadn’t lost the other to the perils of the world turned upside down by none other than Voldemort himself. Moments like these between two sisters bound by blood were far and few in between since then.

“I’ve missed you so much, Clara,” little Em finally admitted. “I was worried about Jacob in the fight but when I heard you were there at Hogwarts too…”

“I thought I’d never see you again, either. I wasn’t sure if I was able to make it out of the war alive,” Clara mumbled. “How, though?”

“Stuck close with Diego. It helps to have a strong dueller at your side,” little Em said. “And you?”

“I was with Tonks at first, but when she was defeated I had to hold my own,” Clara replied. “It wasn’t easy to feel that drive to fight after seeing a casualty right in front of your eyes, but I’ve had enough practice.”

“You shouldn’t have to keep suffering, Clara. I know why you joined the task force in China, but...promise me that at the end of all of this you’ll find some peace and happiness,” little Em pleaded. “All your life you’ve been fighting, and I understand it was for a cause. Just...I don’t want you to break under all the pressure. You have so many people who worry about you, and it would break my heart to find that you’ll never find happiness again at the end of the day.”

“Em.” Clara turned to face her sister now, a small smile on her face. “All I want is to make you happy, to fight for your happiness and safety every day. Knowing that you’re here and you’re happy and safe is enough for me to feel happy and safe.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Little Em smiled, a brief second of relief, before taking her sister’s hand and leading her out of her room. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

#it's september 1 here #so here's a fic to commemorate it #the day we honour our fallen friends #new school year right #and it's the mark of a fresh start #hogwarts mystery #hphm #post hphm #hphm clara lin #hphm barnaby lee #hphm em lin #hphm penny haywood #hphm beatrice haywood #hphm skye parkin #hphm andre egwu #hphm orion amari #hphm murphy mcnully #hphm liz tuttle #hphm chiara lobosca #hphm jae kim #hphm diego caplan #hphm tulip karasu #hphm badeea ali #hphm bill weasley #hphm charlie weasley #hphm george weasley #fleur delacour #angelina johnson #hphm percy weasley

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Forty → in which the Baudelaires go on

IMPORTANT NOTICE FOR TODAY’S CHAPTER

TRIGGER WARNING: Nick's self-harm via scratching is mentioned very directly in the second segment, though not shown onscreen. Proceed with caution, and stay safe!

They buried Kit and Olaf far inland, where waves could not disturb their graves, marked with rocks with letters scratched into them. Klaus held the baby while Friday helped Sunny milk the sheep, and they fed her with a bottle Babbitt had located from the arboretum. 

The sun set, and they knew the coastal shelf was no longer flooded, and they sat in the roots of the tree. Friday was crying again, though much more silently, as she leaned against Nick, who held her and Soli very close. Sunny leaned against Violet, who leaned against a numb Lilac, as Klaus put his head on her other shoulder and held the sleeping baby to his chest. 

“What do we do now?” Friday asked, her voice faint. “We’re still here. We lost everything.” 

“We didn’t.” Sunny said, putting a hand on Lilac’s leg. “We have each other.” 

“We can’t escape.” Nick muttered. “We can’t escape treachery and trauma and… and everything.” 

“We don’t need to escape.” Violet said. She turned to Lilac. “Do you remember that musical, based on that movie, based on that movie, based on that book-”

“Yes.” Lilac nodded, and she shut her eyes and sang for them. 

“The world is cruel, the world is ugly,  But there are times and there are people when the world is not…” 

The Baudelaires all joined in, and Nick hugged Friday closer. “And at its cruelest, it’s still the only world we’ve got.” 

“Light and dark,” the twins and Solitude sang. 

“Foul and fair,” sang Violet and Lilac. 

And then Sunny curled up and said, “Out there.” 

They didn’t know if they could cry again. 

“We have to look after her.” Violet said, looking to the baby. “Our… our little Beatrice.” 

It was the first time anyone had spoken her name. At that, they all felt some kind of peace wash over them, like the waves around them washed over the sand. Beatrice was gone. Bertrand was gone. But the children were here. And the children could go on. 

“I have something to tell you.” Lilac said. Nick gave her a sad look, and reached over to pat her leg. Lilac looked at the baby in Klaus’s arms, asleep, and she said, “I’m… do you remember the taxi driver?” 

Friday shook her head, and Klaus explained, “There was a man who seemed to know us. Driving a taxi.” 

Lilac shut her eyes, and then said, “He was my Dad.” 

Her siblings fell silent. She expected them to say something, but none of them did. She didn’t dare look at them. 

“Mom was engaged to him before she married Dad. They broke up around the time she got pregnant with me. His name was Lemony Snicket, and he’s Kit’s brother.” She curled up a little. “N-Nick found out, when he was with the Quagmires. He told me just… before the trial. I… I didn’t know how… I’m sorry, I…” 

Violet leaned over and hugged her very tight, and then Sunny did the same. Klaus, Nick and Solitude ran over, as Violet whispered, “It’s okay.” 

“What does that matter?” Klaus asked, struggling to hug her while still holding a sleeping newborn. “What does it matter?” 

“You’re our Lilac.” Solitude said. 

“Biggest sis.” Sunny said. 

Lilac found out that, indeed, she could cry some more. 

Violet opened the door of the closet, and said, “Hey, buddy.” 

Nick was sobbing into his lap, and Violet saw with distress that his arms were red again. She opened the door very wide, settling a rock by it to keep it open. 

They were outside with Beatrice, and Sunny was making smores. They thought it would be fun to have a campfire and test Violet’s new flamethrower, and Nick had gone inside to get buckets to load water in case the fire went out of control. They’d found some buckets in a closet in the arboretum earlier, so they’d expected him to be right back. When he wasn’t, Violet assumed something had gone wrong. 

He pulled his sleeves down as she sat in the doorway, looking into the cramped space. “I-I’m sorry.” he said. “My markers are outside-” 

“I know.” Violet nodded. “I… I guess we can’t lock you in the closet anymore, huh?” Her smile only lasted a few seconds. “I’m sorry. Just trying to cheer you up.” 

“I know.” He shut his eyes. “How long was I…?” 

“Only six minutes or so. I told Lilac you probably just stopped somewhere to use the bathroom-” 

“No.” he shook his head. “How long was I trapped? I… I can’t remember. It was so long… I don’t remember counting the days, I… I was…” 

Violet held out her arms, and Nick threw himself at her. She embraced him as tight as she dared, and she said, “It’s okay to cry. But it’s also okay if you don’t want anyone to know.” 

“I… I can’t…” he shut his eyes. “It’s not fair.” 

“I know.” 

“He got away with it… he didn’t suffer.” 

“He did. We stabbed him.” 

“He got to die a hero.” Nick sobbed. “And I know it’s selfish, and I know I should just be happy Bea is safe, but… he got to die a hero. He didn’t suffer. I… I wanted him to suffer. I wanted everything he did to us… am I a bad person?” 

“No. No, you’re not. You’re still our Nick.” 

Violet hugged him as he cried, letting it all out. It took several minutes for him to calm down, and when he did, she said, “Can you sit here a moment?” 

“Are you gonna get my markers?” 

Violet bit her lip. “I’ll be right back. No scratching?” 

“I’ll try.” 

She shut her eyes. “And nothing else.” 

“Can I just go with you?” 

“I… I’ll be right back. Just stay here a mo?” 

Nick hesitantly nodded, and let her slip away. He sat on the floor of the arboretum for a while, looking around at the crib they’d set up in the corner, that Lilac had repaired and Violet had made a mobile for. Sunny’s dishes from her last creation were still in the sink, and Solitude’s little habitat for Babbitt was still on the ground, where Lilac was rebuilding the swinging door. Klaus and Nick’s books were spread on the ground, and Nick could see Friday’s commonplace book- he’d given her the one Quigley gave him, miraculously not wet enough to be damaged, and she loved it more than anything. There was the star chart the boys had been working on, pinned to the wall beside the periscope, reminding Nick that the night still went on. Days still went on. 

Violet came back, and she held out her hand. “Stand up, and grab that baseball bat.” she said. 

He jumped. “What?” 

“Friday’s gonna watch Bea, we’re all taking a trip.” 

Confused, Nick stood and grabbed a nearby bat that had washed up last storm. Violet took his hand and led him outside, and he flinched when he saw their other siblings waiting. “I…” he began. 

Lilac shook her head. “Just walk with us.” 

They walked inland, with Nick too tired and distraught to ask questions until they reached their destination. 

“Why…?” he looked down at the graves of Kit and Olaf, spread in front of them. 

Violet let go of his hand, stepping back. “Do what you want to it.” she said. 

“What?” 

“The grave.” she nodded. “Do whatever the hell you want.” 

Nick hesitantly took a step forwards, glancing around at his siblings. They all nodded at him, and Solitude even gave him a smile. 

Then, carefully, he kicked Olaf’s rock. It shook a little. He kicked it again, and it shook some more. 

“Piece of shit.” he said, and then he grabbed the bat and swung. “Piece of shit!” 

The rock flinched under the bat, and he continued to hit, swearing and pounding until a crack formed. Then he slammed onto the dirt, shutting his eyes and letting hot tears flow down his face. He didn’t care the mess he was making, or who was watching him. But as kept hitting, he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He turned, and saw Violet stab at the ground with her knife. And then Klaus came forwards, and kicked the dirt. Lilac let out a quiet shout as she slammed the rock with a large stick, and Sunny bit onto the edge. Solitude pounded the ground, and Nick took a deep breath and got back to his beating. 

By the time they were done, the rock had split into pieces. Nick turned to look as it cracked, and everyone calmed, and then he counted how many pieces. 

“Six.” he said. “Dumb bastard.” 

Then he dropped the bat, and hugged Klaus, who embraced him and held out his arm to pull the others in. 

“We’re here.” Lilac whispered. 

“I know.” Nick said, and that was all they needed to say. 

They never told Bea she had the same shine in her eyes as her father. She didn’t need to know.

But they told her she had her mother’s smile, and the same eyes as the other Snickets they’d met. 

“You have Biggest Sister’s eyes.” Sunny would sometimes tell her, and the baby would clap and cheer that she was just like Lilac. 

Bea liked cake. And she liked watching Violet invent. She liked when Nick tossed her in the air to catch her, and when Lilac sang to her, or played patty-cake. She liked when Klaus read her stories, sometimes fairytales, sometimes true accounts. She liked when Solitude trusted her with Babbitt or a bug she’d recently caught, so Bea could giggle as they crawled or squirmed around her and tickled her. She liked when Sunny gave her things to bite, or chatted with her in their little secret language. And she liked when they all came together and showed her something they’d found on the beach. 

Lilac and Klaus made everyone clothes, either by repairing ones that washed up on the shore, or making new ones from whatever fabric they could find, some of which was the wool that Violet and Nick sheared from the sheep. Friday’s first dress was purple, and she spun around in it until she fell over onto Nick. Beatrice’s first onesie was yellow, and Lilac told her, even though she was too young to remember, about how it was the color of the sun, because she brought light back into their lives. 

Lilac kept cutting her hair short. She liked it short. She liked thinking about things. She could still braid it a little, she just had to be a bit creative. Her songs got happier, too. She stopped asking everyone if they wanted sung to sleep, and instead just started bursting into a melody whenever she felt like it. 

Violet collected ribbons, some of which she let Beatrice chew on, “for luck.” She showed Bea and Friday how things fit together, and told them about how when they got back to shore, she’d show them much more. She built and helped Lilac repair, and kept all the tools in order- and out of reach of Sunny, who kept trying to stab fish with a screwdriver. 

Nick once found some paints, and Beatrice started painting on her arm, so she could have drawings like him. He’d cried, and she’d hugged him, and he’d asked if she wanted to exploring. He loved exploring the island. He’d started mapping it. He knew Quigley would want to see the map someday. Bea loved exploring, too, with her big brother. 

Klaus read all the books he could find, and Lilac helped him repair the ones that washed up on shore. He read aloud to everyone, and they’d laugh about ridiculous plots, or theorize about mysteries, or ask him to clarify a fact in a nonfiction. He liked when they asked him things. He liked having the answers. 

Friday read, too, and she took notes in her commonplace book with pens that her siblings found for her. She sometimes still sat on the beach, claiming the sounds of the waves and birds helped her concentrate as she did the schoolwork Lilac gave her or wrote about her day or the story she was crafting about a girl in a haunted grove, but the Baudelaires knew that sometimes she was looking out at sea, waiting to see a boat of familiar faces. They sat with her, then, and let her lean against them. 

Solitude found all the herpetology books, which Klaus and Friday read to her. She furnished Babbitt’s habitat, and let her hair grow out so that she could braid it. She also learned how to craft jewelry from shells, and she made everyone a bracelet to wear, to mark them as a Baudelaire. They were all Baudelaires forever. 

Sunny cooked with all the food they could grow in the arboretum, or that washed ashore. She milked the sheep, and broke coconuts, and showed Friday how to work the stove and sink. She made her first cake all by herself when Bea turned a month old, and she was never happier to see her siblings’ faces then when they gazed at delight at her surprise. 

And Bea… Bea grew up. 

“One day, you’ll meet our friends.” Lilac told her once. 

“They’ll be alright.” Solitude said. “The nice lady at the hotel had a statue just like the Great Unknown. I didn’t recognize it at first, but when Kit mentioned it, I remembered.” 

“A statue normally wouldn’t mean anything,” Violet had told Friday, “But, well, Nick found some interesting accounts, didn’t you, Nick?” 

“Li’s Dad is a wordy motherfucker,” Nick said, tossing a file that had been slipped into a bowl of honeydew melons, “But yeah, I did.” 

“And if we’re wrong…” Lilac bit her lip. “Well, we’re not. We have hope.” 

“You gave us, that, Bea.” Klaus told her. “You and Friday gave us all hope.” 

“We didn’t do that.” Friday said. “You all have each other, and that makes you happy.” 

Lilac put a hand on hers. “We all have each other.” she nodded. 

They usually ended every day by reading through their parents’ notes. It was comforting, seeing their handwriting, knowing that they were helping them, even though they probably never thought this was the way they’d do it. They’d add their own stories to the blank pages in the back, everything they’d learned, and everything they hoped. 

They wondered if their parents ever thought they’d have this many children, or that their children could grow up so much.

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[pernatius]

The Forbidden Blade: Ch 55

Ch 54

“Do you remember the last time we met,” I nodded my head, “Do you remember what I said to you that day?”

On that day I declared I would be going along with Beteka’s plan, but most importantly it was the day I questioned my logic behind doing so. He came to me, and my distress was his invitation. 

“You told me you were a monk from the East Temple and that my past is not the straight line as I think it is.” My mouth dried up, as if my body was trying to save me from the answer only and he knew. He, upon my last word, takes a seat in front of me. His cloak blends into my shadow, reminds me of what he is. I tense up because of this.

“Now what if I told you that your father really isn’t your father?”

“I’d say you’re a terrible liar.”

He reacts with my bluntness with a throaty laugh. “Why do you think your mother was sent away?”

“Because father got that letter, the letter you told that monk to send to him.”

“And what exactly did your supposed father tell you was in the letter?”

“Mother had some affiliations with your cult.”

“Prince, you can’t be so ignorant that you completely believe that.”

He’s right. Ever since the night father told me when I was a little boy I’ve done nothing, but question the answer he gave me. Mother, caring and as loving as she was, couldn’t possibly be allied with the Shadowmen. Even if she was, she would’ve said something, anything. 

I could feel my chest crushing itself and my head pound. Replacing my heart beats are the water droplets far off in one of the dark corners. Each splatter becomes louder and faster than the previous, causing my ears to ring. A shout escapes from my throat. Throwing my hands and knees onto the floor, as if bowing down to this overwhelming might, am I met with flashes of distant memories. All of which are blurry, as I convulse. 

“Prince Arthus?”

Mother left without a word in the middle of the night, after another night of my childish sobbing. Without her I was given scars to remind myself of how much I relied on her, on how worthless I truly am. With all the nights that’s left me in a fetal position, I can’t disagree with myself that I deserved it all. I didn’t do anything for her that night, and I continue to not do anything with the second chance I’ve been given. While it is true my second chance was given by a man that’s ultimately started my self hate, it’s still a chance. 

As of yet, there wasn’t a clear reason to cry, but I did. I cried until I couldn’t anymore, and when I couldn’t any longer I sat myself back upright. “Why,” I mumbled out. 

“Only your mother can answer that, but that’s if you oblige to our deal.”

There are so many holes to this new side of the story, but I should be feeling inclined to it being true because it would mean that man I have been calling my father for years isn’t really my father. So, why must I still feel weary in all of this? 

Eyes lowering to my bloody knuckles, I am shot back into the reason I was in this room in the first place. Back turned from Jäger, I try to remember the words Beteka said once before. Without a clear definition of how much time I have, I blast out made up words that sounded similar to the ones she said. Though useless, it was better than doing nothing. Anything was better than doing nothing. 

Too focused on trying to open this wall, I yelped when I noticed the Shadowman had moved to the corner of my eye. “None of those are actual words from the language you’re trying to speak.”

“Why are you still here?” I still remained facing the wall, refusing to make eye contact with him again. 

He ignores my effort to push him away with, “I do know the words if that’s what you’re wondering, but I don’t know why in the world you want to be on the other side of that wall.”

Ignored again, I make another attempt in opening the wall. This time it’s combined with Reess’s technique. Doing it with the weight of this wall causes me to shake. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself by doing that.”

“Why would you,” I smirk through my sweat, “be concerned if I do?”

The member of the cult everyone from both empires hates leans onto the wall with his eyes focused on the ceiling, as if asking for the answer from a being far beyond our understanding and who he chooses not to follow. That look of plea on his face fades away once he turns to me. Shifting into a snarky attitude, “I’m not going to offer again.”

With each second I refuse, it’s another second I’m wasting. Whatever I’m afraid of could happen, but it takes only one regret for it to become a reality. A gulp later, and I realize the risk I have to take. “Fine.”

Just like before, the ground below shook. As I struggled to keep my footing, one of which he seemed to keep easily, the walls split from one another. Their painting swayed from side to side, as my questionable hope became more apparent with the darkness before us widening. Once it stretched to its limit I turned to him, praying he would finally take his leave. With his hands folded behind his back, I sighed. 

Behind me, as I try to fight against the strength of the gunk underneath my feet, no other footsteps are heard. Although I don’t need to hear, nor see to know he’s right behind me. I could feel his eyes burning the back of my neck, judging and wondering the reason that led me to desperation. A smart man wouldn’t led his enemy to his heart, but I’m not a man by any means. Certainly not one by leading a Shadowman to Reina, but I have to risk it. I need to know how much I’ve failed her and everyone else in his forsaken world.

“Prince,” Jäger questioned. Call me insane, but I think I actually heard a bit of sympathy in his voice. Maybe I’m just putting words in his mouth. Whatever. At least now I know he doesn’t plan to backstab me anytime soon. 

Wiping the tears off my face, I continue heading towards the light. 

The same two guards as before stood on either side of the door, the one holding back the precipice I feared to climb, but this time they stood at the ready. Their swords pointed towards the looming figure behind me. Though, these are just mere guards. Which meant they didn’t stand any chance against a Shadowman even with their years worth of training. Their training never trained them for this, but even when they knew this they still charged towards him. They both, ignoring my presence, attacked the man behind me. Before I’m able to turn and stop anything from happening, their swords clattered to the ground. As for their bodies, both made a loud thud when they landed onto the floor. Motionless, I took a step back. Seeing their lifeless bodies made my breathing erratic. 

Clutching my chest, I’m brought back to that same nightmare. Flames engulfed my surroundings, as these two poor men lay in a pool of their blood. Its dark substance crawls towards me. 

“I’m not like the others.” Once again he gets me out of my thoughts. “I didn’t kill them.”

Upon closer inspection I realize the truth behind his words. Their chests moved up and down, indicating that they’re still alive. 

“I have only rendered them unconscious for the time being.”

“Not like them? You nearly killed Reess.”

“Correction, Beatrice nearly killed Reess. I don’t like getting my hands dirty, but when I do my opponents are always worth the hassle.” His cloak slides over their bodies, as he steps over them. 

Jäger at my side, I open the doors. Without a second thought, I rush towards her body and feel my heart ache once I’m standing above her. “No,” I whimpered. 

#131 #chapter 55 #the forbidden blade #creative writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink