His Little Lady

Her face is a perfect mask of repose, and Edmond has to remind himself how much older she is now. She’s grown so fast over the years… Grown so wise and witty and wonderful.

A freckled hand clutches a little more tightly to his shirt, and he remembers why he’s here. For her protection. To keep her safe until such a time that she is delivered from this world and its hardships. But the beautifully ironic thing is that she keeps them safe, and no one seems to notice that it’s meant to be the other way around.

She mutters in her sleep, and his hand is ghosting over her back before he can stop it, calming her fears before they ever really arise. He almost laughs when he remembers what her fears were back then.

He gently plucks the box of cigarettes from his pocket before they can get crushed, and feels a little guilty as the memory of his initial reason for taking up the habit resurfaces to the forefront of his mind.

She shifts with him as he moves across the bed, getting more comfortable against the pillows under his head and under the covers that drape over them both. It’s been a long time since she’d given him that look and asked him to stay until she fell asleep…

She holds onto him tightly as her brows furrow in her sleep, and something unsavory passes through her mind. He lets her clutch almost painfully to him, like a sailor trying to keep a handle on a life-raft in the middle of a stormy sea, and knows that all he needs to do is hold her close and everything will be alright.

He decides it’s been long enough, and starts to pull away and make his escape back into the darkened hallways of the Mansion. He doesn’t get three inches away before eyes the same color of his own are fluttering open a fraction of an inch, and a soft voice is asking him what he’s doing. He replies in perfect honesty and is rewarded with a frown and a tug back in her direction.



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