Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 46

It’s kind of fun to hold on to Darcy as she runs through the forest- she’s so much lower down than a horse, so she can fit through smaller gaps between the trees. It’s exciting. Arthur asks her to stop when he can smell the magic increasing, and they go investigate what must be the edge of the barrier. They study the trees and the ground, Darcy even digs through the snow to the layer of leaf litter and moss and rock beneath, but there isn’t any sign of how the barrier is made, nothing they could break.

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 45

The first thing Arthur notices is the cold- it’s biting right through his clothes, like the middle of winter. That makes sense when he opens his eyes (did he close them?) and finds himself in a forest, on what seems to be a mountain side, with everything covered in the most, whitest snow he’s ever seen. It’s definitely not his lab. Whatever magic it was, its unfamiliar scent bursting out of the book as Darcy read… it took them away from the lab. He wasn’t fast enough in slamming the book shut again, or maybe that had no effect. At least Darcy is next to him, and she looks unbothered by the cold- at least, her teeth aren’t starting to chatter and she’s not wrapping her arms around herself. She just brushes some snow off of her skirts while she looks around in curiosity.

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 44

It’s a sound out in the corridor that wakes him- one he can hear very clearly, the door to the lab must be open, and that to the wine cellar, too… Why would…? Then he remembers that he did that on purpose, for exactly this reason, and scrambles up and out to check whether that’s Darcy and Gregory.

“Arthur-dear!” he hears Darcy chirp loudly the second he’s close by and then he gets barrelled over with a jump hug.

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 43

With the days ticking down, Darcy’s nerves only get more frayed… and this is the small family wedding! The one that is supposed to be her fairy tale come true! The one in which she doesn’t have to manage to look like a real baroness! Why is she so nervous? Why does she feel so unsure? John has been a constant rock to lean on, always there to help her make decisions, always there to smile at her, and tell her she’ll be breathtaking, yes, even if she really manages to stumble and fall at her own wedding. She’ll have her papa for walking her down the aisle, she’ll have him standing right there at the front with the rings if she ends up falling last second, somebody is always going to catch her. And she knows he’s right, he would. Still, isn’t this all she ever wanted? Hasn’t she dreamed of this through all her childhood stories? Why does it feel… wrong is such a strong word?

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 42

Well, that… didn’t go so well. Arthur’s not sure what happened exactly, he couldn’t hear the details, and he’s just as glad. But he didn’t miss how angry John looked. When he asks Gregory about it, Gregory only looks confused and shrugs and says he doesn’t know what he said, he was only trying to help. 

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 41

Darcy wishes that emotional high could last, but once she leaves John with Eluned, doubt settles over her. No, not about that decision, she doesn’t care that the contract became even more expensive, that John got bound into it, he seemed so happy to be trusted with protection. No, she worries because didn’t she just learn something she didn’t know existed?

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 40

Arthur carefully scoots his way from the back of the row boat to the middle, gets the oars out from under Gregory, and starts pulling towards the post boat and the little island. 

The rowing is much harder than it was in the… dream? Illusion? And he thinks it’s slower-going, too. As if they skipped little bits of time in the illusion. 

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 39

Darcy didn’t think being human would shock her so much, scare her so much, where is her drac?! Even while she keeps rushing along with Arthur, she frantically reaches inside of her, relaxes when her drac, after far too long a delay, does respond to her plea, and she feels it wag its tail. Alright, it’s just an illusion, she’s still… the thought makes her stumble, herself. Between all the talks with her mother, and the walks with her night friends, she doesn’t want to be anything but a dhampir anymore. She doesn’t want to be human!

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 38

While Gregory is gone, the wedding preparation heat up only more. Darcy is frantically after every bit of paperwork she can hunt down. Yes, there is a lot at stake, but also, the longer Gregory is away, the more she feels her blood boiling. Where is he? What is he doing? Does anybody have their filthy eyes on him? He’s hers, nobody shall have him!

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Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 37

Once he does, he loses some of his hesitation again, traces his claws over her, first infuriatingly gentle once more, but now she can coax him with her hands on his to push harder, finds herself growling with animalistic pleasure, gaze fixed on the blood droplets starting to adorn her pale skin, then moaning as he licks them up and kisses her, the taste of her own blood in her mouth tingling against her tongue and her drac’s sense of being naughty. This, this is how it should feel, this is what all the hushed voices and her mother were talking about, how wonderful intimacy could be. This, she doesn’t worry about, yes, please, more!

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