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There had been no water in this room, and it was clear enough that there was not going to be any water. If I didn't drink something, I'd die. It already felt like I was dying, but gritted my teeth and turned the words of the riddle over and over in my mind.
ONE TO SLEEP
ONE TO DREAM
ONE TO DIE
ONE TO SCREAM
Alice hadn't warned me. I hadn't known that I could die in the Cru-cible. But even if I had, even if she'd warned me and I'd known exactly what I would be facing, I knew that I would have said yes.
For them.
It's worth it. Even it I chose wrong, it was worth it. I'd already tried every trick I could think of, including taking a bit of the liquid in each goblet and dabbing it onto various surfaces—the goblets themselves, the table, the riddle.
I'd hoped for a message in invisible ink, but what I was left with instead was an observation I'd made very early on—the obvious one:
There were four lines to the riddle, four uses of the word one, but there were only three goblets-each of which was encrusted with four stones.
ONE TO SLEEP ONE TO DREAM
ONE TO DIE
ONE TO SCREAM
Eventually, my mind went to the Grandest Game, to a puzzle of my design — mine and Jameson's, words carved into a plaque at the base of a tree, a poem with many possible meanings. But all you really had to do to solve the puzzle was zero in on the first letter of each line.
Lying on my back beneath the golden table, I lifted my fingers to touch four identical letters, one after another—the first letter in each of those four lines.
This was it. Right or wrong, I could feel that realisation crystalising inside of me, firming up. Four round O's. Four round jewels on one of those sparkling goblets.
I rose to my feet. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to think about the people who mattered most, knowing that somewhere out there, they were looking for me.
And they were safe because of me.
I reached for the goblet with the rounded jewels and stared down at the clear liquid inside it. With my free hand, I traced an infinity sym-
Jameson.
ess ring was missing from my left hand. It had been, since I'd woken up in the white room.
"Pick your poison, I said softly-and then I did.
I woke up with no idea how long I'd been out, my head turned sideways on a pillow. For a moment, all I saw was the color white, and I thought I was back in the white room, back at the start, but then I blinked, and the world around me slowly came into tocus, and I remembered:
Pick your poison.
Given that I was still alive and not screaming, I was going to go out on a limb and guess that Id picked correctly. My body felt stiff, like I'd been out for hours, maybe even days, but managed to sit up — in a four-poster bed stuffed with down. could feel an actual feather poking out. An antique wardrobe sat to one side of the bed. In front of it, on a stone floor, was a silver pitcher that looked a hundred years old at I should be thirsty, I thought, but I wasn't, and as if through a fog, the vaguest memory came to me of red-gloved hands lifting a cup to my I swallowed and registered the tact that the walls of this room were made of solid stone — no windows, no doors. Just stone.
This wasn't over.
I crawled out of bed and made my way toward the silver pitcher, then dipped my fingers into the liquid inside and lifted them to my nose. The liquid smelled like water, but that didn't mean it was.
Good thing I wasn't thirsty.
I picked the pitcher up for further inspection and discovered a note card beneath it, the size of a place card at a formal dinner. Three words stared back at me in all-capital script: CHOOSE YOUR GOWN.
The wardrobe loomed over me, its wood worn, and I found myself wondering how many times this room had been used, how many women had woken up here. I opened the cabinet. Inside, there were eight ballgowns, all of them old-fashioned. Just looking at them, I half-expected a maid to come bustling in to help me put one on, but the room remained utterly silent, and the stone walls gave no signs of parting.
I assessed the gowns, trying to figure out which one would be the easiest—though definitely not easy — to move in. Ultimately, I decided on a royal purple. I tried my best to lace up myself. The result was a disaster, but it must have sufficed, because I was rewarded with the creaking of a hinge. It took me a second to realize that the sound had come from behind the dresses. I reached through them and pushed against the back of the wardrobe, which swung open.
How very Narnia of them.
Readying myself, I stepped through the wardrobe and out into what looked like a cave. The walls glowed with eerie writing, the only light in the room. I turned, scanning that writingwords, not sentences. And not just any words, proper nouns.
Lepus, Ara, Volans, Phoenix, Vega—
————
pt1 pt3 pt4
next part will come tomorrow !! (also this isn't edited I have to edit it)
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guys, in case it's not blatantly obvious, im being an optimist about this book.
maybe you won't like it, I personally liked it, and thats my opinion. you're allowed to gripe and be made about it if you don't. you can be pissed or sad or feel wronged for the rest of your life. you can make post after post about how much you disliked jib's choices and how the series ended. but at the end of the day, this is how the series ended, and to be blatantly honest, nothing that you or I say or do will change that.
one of the reason I personally haven't been all that online on Tumblr the past month, is just because it hasn't been that pleasant a place to be for me. I was excited for this book, and I want to be able to like it and be open minded without being brought down. and I want that for others too !
all I ask is that we're all considerate of each other. we've all had differing opinions in this community, and all of them are valid, and all of them are heard. to the people who don't like the book and are not feeling great about the series, that's completely fine and I see where your anger or sadness comes from !! however, there must have been something about it you liked ? find a scene, a line, an interaction that you enjoyed, and just think of that as bonus content ! even if the book sucked, at least you got a scene out of it, and can just forget it ever happened.
if you're a writer, hey, you have new material !! I personally didn't like the epilogue and some of the plot but there were so many cute and witty quotes that I have replaying in my mind that I will be posting on here, and now I've learnt more about the characters I hold so close to my heart.
if you liked it, thats awesome !! but lets also be considerate of those who didn't ! that's okay !!!
finally, I really hope we can have more civil posts on here. I know at the end of the day this is just a book series, but a lot of people love and relate to these characters. they bring people joy. so im asking that we don't slander them, and maybe that isn't fair or reasonable, everyone has free will, and at the end of the day you decide what you do with this platform, I can't control you. BUT. BUT BUT BUT.
put yourself in the other persons shoes. if you really liked a book and people on a platform you really like started slandering and hating on characters and fans unnecessarily, would it make you feel particularly safe or excited to post about it ??
even if you don't agree with me at all, which is completely fine, I hope you at least understand where im coming from.
let's make the inheritance games fandom a place where people genuinely want to be in. a place of writing and art and heacanons and discussion, and everything that comes with that.
n — next parts will be linked at the bottom once I can get them up (might take a few hours, please have patience !!
warning, this will spoil a bit but also won't really make sense if you haven't read the book.
AVERY
Oren was going to kill me for shutting down the security cameras on the yacht, but I had a limited window of opportunity. I knew it was a risk, but the note I’d received seemed to merit one: A drawing of a calla lily. Four words. A lone initial.
YOU CAN END THIS. — A
Once the cameras were off, she came to me, clothed from head to toe in white. White cloak. White boots. White gloves.
My own hands were bare. In one of them, I held my phone, Jameson’s number already pulled up, and in the other, I held a knife I’d stolen from the yacht’s galley. I let the Woman in White see the knife—but not the phone.
“I got your note,” I said.
Gloved hands lowered her white hood. The cloth covering her face came down with the hood. Alice Hawthorne, in the flesh. She looked a good decade younger than she was—at least.
“I’ve called it.” Those were Alice’s first words to me.
“Called what?” My thumb hovered over the phone screen. Jameson would kill me for doing this, but he wasn’t the only one who got to take risks, and I’d never gotten over that night in Prague.
Waiting for him.
Fearing that something had happened to him.
And, once he’d come back, knowing that someone had hurt him.
Never again.
“What is it,” I repeated, putting a bit of Grayson in my tone, “that you have called?”
“Our name for it is the Crucible.” Alice’s voice and mannerisms reminded me more of Skye than Zara, and that surprised me. She spoke like the two of us were having this exchange over martinis, not a knife. “Each of us chooses a Candidate. The Candidates are trained. They are tested. One ascends.”
That couldn’t have sounded more cultish if she’d tried.
“I would advise against calling my grandson,” Alice said, her voice still light enough.
She knew about the phone. Oh well. “You made Jameson bleed,” I said.
“I saved my grandson’s life,” Alice corrected, “by issuing a warning he would deem worthy of heeding—for a time.” I opened my mouth to object to the idea that Jameson had ever stopped heeding that warning, but Alice waved any and all objections away with a gloved hand. “Nothing happens by accident, Avery. The Watcher has made her move, and I must make mine. And so I have.”
“The Crucible.” The words felt heavy on my lips.
“We don’t have much time. All you need to know is that Candidates are able to bargain for immunity for those they love. Say yes, and I can grant that to you—to them. The boys. Toby. My daughters. Your sister and the babies she carries. My family and yours.”
“And if I say no?”
“I called the Crucible to give Jameson and Grayson a chance.” Alice’s voice still reminded me so much of Skye’s. “I called it so that you might bargain, and, in doing so, I have ensured my own days are numbered. For a new Candidate to ascend, my time must end.”
Die, I realized. Alice was saying that when the Crucible was over, she would die.
“I will not be able to protect them much longer,” Alice told me. “And so, Avery Kylie Grambs, you must live up to that name of yours and do so in my stead. Bargain for my grandsons’ lives—and do it fast.”
“This is wrong.” She’d correctly identified my weak point. I would do anything for the people I loved.
“Then change the game,” Alice told me. “Say yes. Come with me. Compete in the Crucible, and change the game.”
“What happens if I lose?”
“Those who pass the Crucible but do not ascend return to life, forged and made and ready. Four years ago or nineteen or five hundred—you would have been placed somewhere of use to us, but I’ve seen to it that you are already there. You already have power, Avery, not the mere proximity to it but power all your own. Prove yourself in the Crucible, and the only thing about your life that will change is that you will be part of something bigger than yourself.”
“Something wrong,” I said.
“We are not all True Believers, Avery Kylie Grambs. There is a path forward, if you can find it.”
The knife in my right hand suddenly felt very heavy. I wondered if stabbing her would end this. I didn’t think it would. “What happens if I say yes? If I bargain with you to keep the others safe?”
“You’ll disappear without a trace—except a note, I think, in this case, telling them not to look for you.”
“They’ll look for me regardless.”
Alice lifted a gloved hand to the side of my face. “I’m counting on it. Do feel free, dear girl, to sign that note with a lemniscate.”
I left the note. I signed it with the infinity symbol. And in return, Alice rendered me unconscious with a single touch.
I woke up in a white room. White ceiling. White floors. White walls. The room had no windows. It had no doors. My first thought was of Jameson.
My second was of Alice.
And my third was that the white room wasn’t just white. Etched into every surtace, there were indentions-twisting, turning lines that connected just so.
It took me longer than it should have to realize what I was looking at. This room had no windows. It had no doors. And built into the walls and ceiling and floor, there was a very complicated maze.
————
It took me hours to solve the maze room, and when I did, it opened to another. Another room. Another puzzle. And another. And another.
Thirst crept in long before hunger.
My throat was so dry it hurt by the time I stepped into a room covered with locks. The ceiling was seemingly nothing but keys.
I started with the locks and found one and only one with writing on it. Four words.
THERE ARE ALWAYS THREE.
————
Eventually, two more rooms and a small eternity later, there was water.
There was food. I drank. I ate. I waited. And this time, a door opened of its own volition. My body on high alert, I stepped through it, expecting to see Alice.
All I saw was mirrors.
————
The mirror room.
The room with blades for walls.
The room of a hundred doors.
Time lost all meaning as I worked my way through challenge alter challenge, but 1 knew objectively that it had to have been days, not hours. ra slept more than once to stay sharp. I was starting to believe tha there would be no end, that I should just stop.
Give up.
But I could practically hear Jameson urging me ora fresne thing you know how to do, Heiress, it's play.
————
Finally, finally, I stepped into a room that felt different larger, more open. There were visible tunnels spiraling off it, but some sixth sense told me to ignore them. I focused all my attention on the golden table in the middle of the room instead
On top of it sat three ornate goblets. Inside each, there was a liquid.
A voice—somehow familiar to me—spoke from somewhere behind me.
"Pick your poison."
I whirled, but there was no one there. I turned back to the goblets.
Poison. I got the distinct feeling that wasn't a metaphor. I waited for the voice to say something else—or for its owner to reveal herself-but there was only silence.
Silence and those three goblets full of liquid.
I picked up each one, those sickening instructions echoing in my mind. Pick your poison.
It took me a tew minutes to find the riddle, engraved on the under-
side of the golden table:
ONE TO SLEEP ONE TO DREAM
ONE TO DIE
ONE TO SCREAM
————
I had to be sure. It had been a full day, but I had to be sure, because as far as I could tell, the only way of solving this room was to pick up one of those goblets and drink.
I'd already explored the tunnels spiraling off the room. Id already looked for clues, but there was nothing but the table and the riddle and the gob-lets, each one unique—one gold, one silver, one bronze, all set with jewels.
Rounded jewels.
Square jewels.
Triangular ones.
I came back to the goblet with the triangular-cut jewels again and again. There are always three."
At this point I spoke out loud just to hear a human voice, even if it was my own.
"There are always three, and a triangle has three sides." There was a logic to that, but I had to be sure. I had to be sure, and I wasn’t...
____
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SPOILER: so ofc, this fic does not contain any major spoiler BUT I am using the twins' CANON NAMES that are revealed in tgb. If you do not want to know that, do not read this fic.
Synopsis: The fourth of July at the Hawthorne House had always been loud. This time, it was a completely different kind of loud.
AN: It's not entirely 4th of july centric and also I had no idea what ppl do on 4th of july. Ignore any errors. Yall better like it- its like 4400 words
HAPPY READING.
The fourth of July at the Hawthorne House had always been loud.
Years ago, they used to celebrate with a private carnival complete with a Ferris wheel, roller coaster, bumper cars, and enough games to occupy an army of children.
Four brothers. A grandfather richer than kings. A holiday to celebrate.
But now?
When the billionaire was dead and gone and the four brothers were no longer children? The Fourth of July looked more humane.
Now, the sprawling grounds behind the manor had traded carnival rides for rows of picnic tables draped in white linen and overflowing platters of barbecue. Red, white, and blue bunting fluttered lazily from the terrace railings. String lights crisscrossed the oak trees overhead, waiting for the sun to set. Somewhere near the grill, country music played softly beneath the sizzle of burgers and the splash of someone being shoved into the pool.
Nash was at the grill.
And no one was allowed near it.
“That’s the most typical dad thing you’ve ever done,” Xander declared, gesturing toward the grill and Nash’s apron that read, “RESPECT THE COOK”
Nash shot his youngest brother a look, “You’d rather I trust one of you knuckleheads?”
The protests were immediate.
“You have little to no faith in us,” Jameson said, pausing to look up from the face painting he was doing on Seren’s face.
“I will assume I wasn’t included in the word knuckleheads,” Grayson added, without glancing at Nash or any of his brothers.
Nash snorted, “You were included.” He then pointed the tongs at Jameson, “And you once tried to see if steaks cooked faster with a flamethrower.”
Jameson shrugged, “In my defense, we never found out, so this is still up for debate.”
“We couldn’t find out because Oren confiscated the flamethrower,” Avery reminded her boyfriend.
She and Libby were lounging by the pool chairs while Jameson was sitting on the grass with Seren. Grayson was at the picnic table, trying to beat his ballerina girlfriend at a hand-eye coordination game.
Jameson shook his head, “He overreacted.”
“He reacted appropriately,” Nash corrected.
Jameson rolled his eyes at Nash before abandoning the conversation and shifting his attention back to his two year old niece and the paintbrush in his hands.
Just when Nash had thought he could enjoy this peace for a while, Xander leaned over the grill, peering at the rows of burgers with exaggerated curiosity.
“Hypothetically speaking-”
“No.” The response came sharp and firm.
“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!”
Nash looked at Xander, “You're about to ask if you can flip one.”
“Nooooo.”
Nash waited for a second.
“Okay, but like just one please!”
“No.”
“You are no fun.”
Before Nash could answer, a tiny voice cut through the conversation.
“Done?”
This was Seren who was sitting remarkably still for a two-year-old, her little legs crossed in the grass as she blinked up at her uncle with unwavering patience. Two miniature American flags decorated her cheeks, and a scattering of white stars stretched across her forehead.
Jameson put the brush down and titled his head to examine his artwork. He turned turned his head to address Libby,
“How mad would you be if I put a tiny bit of glitter on her face?”
His sister-in-law narrowed her eyes at him, “No, absolutely not.”
But the damage was done.
Seren lit up as soon as she heard the word ‘glitter’
“GWITTER!”
Jameson looked at Libby, who was glaring daggers at him, “Don’t.”
“If you were my kid, I would’ve put glitter on your face,” Jameson told Seren, and with a sigh that suggested he was the victim in all of this, he reached over and began packing away the face paints.
Seren's lower lip wobbled, "No gwitter?"
Jameson patted her head, “No gwitter.”
Before Seren could decide whether this warranted tears, her twin, Faith, who had been playing with Max a few minutes ago, came running toward them, “UNCLE J! MY TURN NOW!”
“Looks like you’ve got yourself another client,” Avery snorted as they watched Faith running and Max sprinting after her.
“What can I say? I’m just so famous,” Jameson replied, reopening all the paints again.
“And you have a steady hand,” Avery observed the painting on Seren’s face closely as she scooped the toddler in her arms before her twin could collide straight into her. Faith’s toddler brain was still treating stopping as an optional concept.
Jameson looked up at her and corners of his mouth tilting upward, “Right, I do have steady hands-”
“Jamie,” Nash warned, “Keep it PG.”
Jameson raised his hands in surrender, “Fine.”
Faith plopped down in front of Jameson and demanded a tiger painting on her face.
“A tiger?” Jameson asked.
Faith nodded enthusiastically, her two pigtails on the top of her head bobbing with the motion.
“Scary tiger.”
“I thought we were doing patriotic-themes?"
“Tiger!”
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
When One P.M. rolled around, the atmosphere had changed.
The burgers had disappeared. Empty lemonade glasses and plates littered the picnic tables, while Jameson and Xander were cannonballing into the pool, splashing water everywhere from the impact.
Faith and Seren were wired and energetic as ever.
“They should be down for their nap by now,” Libby muttered, watching as her daughters spun in a circle with Avery and Lyra, all four of them singing ‘Ring around the Rosie.’
Around and around they went.
"Ashes, ashes..."
The girls dissolved into giggles as the four of them collapsed onto the grass in an untidy heap.
By the time they scrambled back to their feet to start the rhyme all over again, Jameson and Xander had climbed out of the pool, apparently having overheard Libby's comment.
Jameson grabbed a towel, drying his hair as casually as he could.
“You know..." he said. "Since they clearly aren't tired…”
“Go out where?” It was Nash who asked this.
“The Carnival downtown.”
“Wait, the traveling one? ” Libby asked excitedly, “I've always wanted to go! I heard it's huge this year.”
The word ‘Carnival’ appeared to be a catchphrase because Lyra and Avery had called out in unison, “We’re going to a carnival?” And at the same time the twins had heard it too,
“CARNWAL.”
Jameson looked pleased with himself. “See? The public vote has been cast.” he said, gesturing toward the twins
“They wouldn’t even know what a carnival is,” Grayson said, “I am pretty sure they just like the sound of the word.”
Jameson waved his hand dismissively, “That’s not the point. The point is… we should take them to the carnival.”
“They’ll want to see everything. Run everywhere. And throw up after two rides,” Nash counted off those things on his fingers, “Let’s do a carnival for another day.”
“Oh please! Come on!” Jameson was not above begging, “Pleaseeee, I’ve always wanted to go to a 4th of July Carnival.”
“You guys used to have the carnival here,” Avery reminded him, “And with no queues.”
“But a public carnival is more fun!”
“I’ve always wanted to go to the fourth of July carnival too,” Libby admitted before turning to her sister, “Remember the time your mom took us? We couldn’t go on the fourth but she took us on the 15th.”
“She claimed ‘Random Quarter July Carnival’ was more special than the Fourth one,” Avery reminisced.
By the direction this was going in, a carnival in the future of two-hours-later seemed more than possible.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
After convincing Nash a little more and offering to take one kid off of their hands for a few hours, they were at the carnival.
It had gone something like this:
“Okay, look, Avery and I can take Seren and Lyra and Gray can take Faith. We guys will meet you back by car in three hours.”
The carnival stretched across an enormous fairground on the outskirts of town, impossible to miss long before they'd reached the entrance. The towering Ferris wheel dominated the skyline, its red, white, and blue lights glowing even against the late afternoon sun. Beside it, roller coasters twisted overhead while spinning rides whirled in every direction, their riders' screams rising above the cheerful music pouring from hidden speakers.
The air buzzed with life.
They all parted ways at the entrance.
While Faith tugged on Lyra’s hand, leading her toward the bottle games, with Grayson following behind, and Seren, Avery and Jameson were already on their way to the Ferris wheel.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
Five minutes later, the three of them found themselves seated in one of the Ferris wheel's white gondolas.
Seren was practically vibrating with excitement.
She stood between Avery and Jameson, her tiny hands gripping the metal bar as the ride lurched forward.
"It's moving!" she gasped.
"It is," Avery agreed, instinctively wrapping an arm around the toddler's waist as the gondola climbed higher.
Every few seconds, she'd spot something new.
"Horsies!"
The carousel.
"Balloons!"
A vendor weaving through the crowd.
"Puppy!"
A family walking past with an overly fluffy golden doodle.
Jameson smiled.
"I think your observational skills rival Grayson's."
Seren didn’t hear him. She had spotted something new and was looking at it, awestruck.
It was a rollercoaster that ran throughout the vicinity of the carnival,the track twisting and bending at different dangerous angles. Avery suspected there was an age limit along with a height limit to get on that thing.
Before Jameson could indulge Seren, Avery shot him a warning look, mouthing to him, “Do not mention the rollercoaster. Go for safe rides.”
He mimed right back, “Safe is boring.”
“Safe won’t revoke our babysitting privileges.”
After getting off the ferris wheel, their next ride was the carousel.
The carousel spun lazily in front of them, its painted horses rising and falling to cheerful organ music. Gold lights wrapped around every mirrored panel, making the entire ride gleam despite the afternoon sun.
Seren rode on a white horse with a pink saddle and waved at them whenever the horse spun past them.
Avery and Jameson cheered like over-excited parents; blowing kisses and recording.
Seren took the carousel thrice. And insisted on going again a fourth time, but Jameson gently steered her away upon seeing the line that had doubled in size, “We’ll circle right back.”
Next they walked inside the building and straight to the ring named as “BUMPER CARS”
“No. Bumper cars are dangerous,” Avery said before Jameson could even get in the line.
“Be rational, Heiress. How can bumper cars be dangerous?”
“Physical injury because of the impact!”
Jameson shook his head, “That rarely ever happens, heiress.”
He crouched down to Seren’s level, “Wanna crash into Aunt Avery?”
“Crash!” Seren repeated gleefully.
Jameson grinned and let Seren wrap her fingers around his index finger, “Let’s go then.”
Unfortunately the line was longer than expected. The three of them stood behind a middle aged couple with two ten year olds.
They stood there for almost fifteen minutes. Seren was getting agitated as the crowd around them increased in size.
“Next time,” Jameson murmured to Avery, “We should have a carnival at the house.”
Avery surpassed her laugh, “You know, this is normal for ordinary people.”
Another five minutes passed and most people in the queue were already sitting down on the floor. Avery was leaning against Jameson, with him supporting half her body weight while holding Seren in his arms.
And then finally, a whistle bellowed and the metal barriers swung open for the last batch of people to exit and the new ones to enter.
Jameson and Seren took a red bumper car while Avery slid into a blue one.
“I drive,” Seren announced as soon as Jameson buckled her in.
“We drive.”
“I DRIVE.”
A few minutes later, the whistle shrieked. The floor beneath the cars hummed to life. Electric poles crackled softly overhead and the cars lurched forward.
Seren squealed so loudly that three nearby parents turned to look.
"We're moving!"
"We are," Jameson laughed.
He kept one hand lightly over hers on the steering wheel while using the other to guide the little car into the open space.
Jameson had managed to keep them out of the way of any other car for a while but some eventually bumped into them from behind.
“Sorry!” It was Avery.
Jameson swerved the car, "You hit a toddler."
"I bumped a bumper car."
"You bumped a bumper car containing a toddler."
He then looked at Seren, “What do you say, Captain? Do we crash into people?”
“CWASH!”
Jameson shot Avery a wicked smile, “The verdict has been passed.”
The little red car surged forward. Jameson steered them toward Avery. At the very last second, he jerked the wheel. Their bumper skimmed past hers by inches.
Another car came barreling their way. Jameson spun the wheel; the red car pivoted neatly out of the way, the other driver sailing harmlessly past.
Seren threw both hands into the air. "Again!"
"We're getting there."
A teenager in a green car spotted them and immediately changed course. Jameson saw him coming.
"Oh, he's confident."
The teenager accelerated.
Jameson waited. And waited.
Then, at the very last second, he flicked the steering wheel.
The green car whooshed past their bumper and slammed into Avery instead.
Thunk.
Seren laughed so hard she had to grab onto Jameson's arm.
"Cwash!"
"You heard the Captain." Jameson accelerated.
This time there was no last-second dodge.
Thunk.
They bumped Avery's blue car just hard enough to send it spinning a quarter turn.
Avery pointed an accusing finger at him, “I swear to God, this situation would’ve been a lot different if you didn’t have a toddler with you.”
Jameson just grinned at her.
Another car clipped their back bumper. Jameson barely reacted. He turned the wheel smoothly, weaving between three cars with surprising precision.
Seren gasped at every near miss.
“So fast!”
Soon after, the whistle bellowed again and the bumper cars stopped. Their bumper car ride adventure was over. They wandered back outside to the main area, the late afternoon sun had begun to soften, bathing the carnival in a warm golden glow. Music drifted through the fairgrounds while the scent of popcorn, funnel cakes and barbecue floated through the air.
They stopped at a food stall decorated with tiny American flags.
Jameson ordered a basket of fresh-cut fries while Avery came back balancing a water bottle and lemonades. The three of them settled onto a nearby picnic bench, trying to feed Seren as many fries as they could to avoid her complaining to her mother about being starved.
From wiping ketchups off their sleeves to cleaning the lemonade spills on the table, they resumed wandering through the carnival.
Seren’s eyelids were beginning to droop and the toddler was already drooling on Jameson’s shoulder.
They continued strolling through the carnival at a much slower pace, letting Seren point lazily at the passing rides and colorful booths.
Then she spotted it.
"Bear."
Jameson followed her tiny finger.
Suspended above one of the game stalls hung an enormous cream-colored teddy bear with a bright red ribbon tied around its neck.
Seren's eyes stayed fixed on it. "Bear."
"You like that one?" Jameson asked.
A sleepy nod.
The booth was hosting a ring toss game. Rows of green glass bottles stood neatly arranged on the counter while plastic rings sat stacked in a bucket nearby. A handwritten sign read:
RING TWO BOTTLES. WIN THE TOP PRIZE.
Several people had already tried. Several people had failed.
“I’ll give it a try,” Avery said.
The booth attendant handed Avery three rings with a "Good luck."
She picked up the first one. Lined up the shot. Tossed.
The ring clipped the bottle and bounced away.
She picked up the second ring. Another smooth throw. This time the ring landed neatly around the neck of the bottle.
One ring remained.
Seren had perked up just enough to watch. "Bear..."
Avery twirled the final ring once around her finger before tossing it.
It sailed through the air in a perfect arc.
Clink.
The ring settled cleanly around the center bottle.
Even the attendant looked surprised, “We have a winner.” He reached up and unhooked the oversized teddy bear, handing it to Avery. Avery handed it to her niece who hugged it immediately, her tiny arms barely reaching around its middle.
With Seren now clutching her new teddy bear against Jameson's shoulder, the three of them continued down the midway, the stuffed bear nearly as large as its delighted new owner.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
Lyra, Grayson, and Faith’s carnival journey had begun at the teacup ride.
Faith had spotted the brightly colored cups the moment they entered the midway.
"Cups!" she'd declared, already dragging Lyra toward the entrance.
"They spin," Lyra had warned.
"They spin!" Faith repeated, as though that were the ride's greatest selling point.
Grayson, who had been hoping to start with something considerably less nauseating, sighed and followed.
A few minutes later, the three of them climbed into a bright pink teacup decorated with painted hearts. The ride lurched into motion.
At first, it was gentle; the teacups drifted lazily around the platform while cheerful carnival music floated through the air.
Then Faith said, “Faster!”
“I think this operates at a fixed speed,” Grayson told her.
“It doesn’t,” Lyra intoned, gesturing toward the wheel in the middle.
Before Grayson could even say anything, Faith yelled, “FASTER!” and Lyra obliged quickly.
She gave the wheel an innocent little turn. The teacup spun. Not much. Just enough for Faith to burst into delighted giggles.
"More!"
Lyra looked at Grayson,"The lady has spoken."
She spun the wheel harder. The world blurred into streaks of red, blue, and white.
Faith shrieked with laughter.
Grayson tightened one arm around her instinctively while gripping the side of the teacup with the other.
By the time the ride had ended, Faith was wired as ever.
“Did you have fun?” Lyra asked the toddler who nodded enthusiastically. She then glanced at her boyfriend who had one hand pressed against his mouth.
“You okay there, Gray? You look a little pale.”
He shook his head, “I am okay. Let’s move along.”
The next attraction was entirely Faith's idea.
She stopped so suddenly that Lyra nearly walked straight into her.
Faith pointed enthusiastically toward a brightly painted building trimmed with flashing lights. A crooked sign overhead read:
FUN HOUSE
Every few seconds, shrieks of laughter spilled through the exit doors as families stumbled back outside.
Lyra's eyes lit up, "Oh, I love fun houses."
Grayson studied the slanted façade, the spinning tunnel visible through one of the windows and the distorted mirrors lining the entrance.
"I fail to see what's fun about voluntarily becoming disoriented."
Lyra looped her arm through his, letting out an exaggerated gasp, “You’ve never been inside one of these, have you?”
He hadn’t. That was true. Grayson and his brothers had been inside custom-made-haunted-houses, hedge mazes, escape rooms, but never a fun house.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Lyra tugged on his arm, as Faith started to pull on her other arm, trying to hurry her up.
The first room was lined with mirrors. Not ordinary mirrors. Some stretched them impossibly tall. Others made them absurdly short.
One widened Grayson's shoulders to twice their normal size while shrinking his head.
Lyra burst into uncontrollable laughter, she stepped beside him, her reflection compressed to barely four feet tall.
“This moment is priceless.” She snapped three pictures of them all, in various mirrors.
The next room was tilted sharply to one side.
The floor wasn't actually slanted, it only looked that way.
Lyra had tried to take two steps confidently before reaching over to grab Grayson’s arm for balance.
For a moment, Faith looked fascinated.
Then she looked confused.
Her tiny face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes.
This was a clear sign that she didn’t like this place.
Grayson immediately scooped her in his arms and she buried her head in his shoulder, wiping the snot from her nose on his Armani suit.
“Well, one suit down, seventy-something to go,” Lyra muttered, adding this information to her joint-agenda of getting rid of his suits with his brothers.
Other parents shot them sympathetic looks. As they stepped into the next hallway, a middle-aged woman watching nearby smiled politely and said,
“Leave her be, dears. Don’t baby her too much. That’s what parents like yourselves do wrong in their upbringing.”
Lyra, who was running a hand through Faith’s hair to pacify her, froze.
Grayson, who was still trying to soothe a very distraught toddler, shot the lady an austere look, “We appreciate your concern,” he said evenly, “But we don't recall asking for parenting advice.”
The woman's smile faltered.
"Oh."
Without another word, Grayson continued walking and Lyra didn’t get the chance to enjoy the look on that woman’s face for any longer.
The final room had been a maze of mirrors but neither Lyra nor Faith had any interest in navigating or enjoying it.
Lyra glanced around at the endless reflections before looking at Grayson.
"Think you can solve this one?"
He scanned the maze once, "It's hardly a challenge."
Less than a minute later, they stepped back out into the open air.
“Show-off,” Lyra muttered.
The cool evening breeze did wonders for Faith's mood.
She was still sniffling softly against Grayson's shoulder, her small fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, but the tears had stopped.
Lyra brushed a stray curl away from the toddler's forehead.
"There we go," she murmured. "Much better."
Faith gave a watery little nod.
As they wandered farther down the midway, the carnival seemed louder than before.
Music drifted through the air. Children darted between booths clutching oversized stuffed animals. Somewhere nearby, someone won a prize and a loud bell rang triumphantly.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Faith lifted her head.
Another burst of bells followed by a chorus of cheers echoed from the booth ahead.
Her attention shifted immediately.
A shooting gallery stood beneath a striped canopy, colorful plush animals hanging from every beam overhead. Contestants aimed small carnival rifles at rows of objects. Every successful hit sent the object toppling over and a fallen object was worth a stuffed animal.
Faith pointed at the unicorn, “That!”
“I believe we have our next destination.”
The booth attendant greeted them with an easy smile.
"Five shots. Knock down all five targets and you win anything from the top shelf."
Two people were already lining up shots, so Grayson waited. Neither of those people managed to knock over anything. Three shots hit the target dead centre, yet nothing fell over. It became pretty apparent to Grayson that there was a support behind the objects keeping them in place.
Because afterall, what were carnival games if not rigged?
“What object for the unicorn?” Grayson asked the booth attendant.
“The plastic crystal ball,” the guy replied, sliding a tray of corks his way.
Grayson put Faith down and picked up the rifle.
He rested the stock of the rifle against his shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the row of prizes.
The plastic crystal ball sat in the center of the shelf. Unlike the cans and wooden ducks surrounding it, it had a nearly invisible support tucked behind its base.
Grayson aimed the rifle at the ball, estimating the angle, before abruptly angling the rifle toward the bottle beside it. And he fired.
The cork flew out, hit the bottle from the side, rebounded sideways to where the crystal ball sat, toppling it over before knocking over a few more items sideways.
The metallic support was uncovered when the objects fell over.
There was a moment of utter silence.
The booth keeper was at a loss for words.
“The unicorn,” Grayson said.
The booth attendant wordlessly reached over and took the unicorn off the hook.
Grayson gave it to Faith and they didn’t stick around to see the aftermath of the situation.
“At this point you just enjoy it,” Lyra quipped.
The smell of food only grew stronger as they wandered farther through the carnival. Fresh popcorn. Barbecue. Funnel cakes dusted with powdered sugar. And Corn dogs.
They stopped by a food stand beneath a striped awning decorated with tiny American flags.
Grayson ordered chicken tenders and fries while Lyra had to run to claim the only available table which was about to be taken by a group of teen girls.
It was six thirty when they finally finished eating and threw the empty boxes in the trash.
And it was time to finally meet back with the rest of the family in the parking lot.
Halfway through the exit, they were reunited with Xander and Max. Xander looked like he had lost a battle with a very dedicated chicken while Max had her tote bag filled with sweets and a cotton candy in her hand which she gave to Faith.
And Faith, who was in Grayson’s arms, then proceeded to get the sticky cotton candy all over her and Grayson and Grayson’s hair.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
“Looks like you guys had fun,” Nash stated as Lyra and Grayson came into view with Xander and Max in tow.
“Uncle Gray won me a uniworn!” Faith exclaimed.
“Did he now?” Nash mused reaching over for Faith, who happily reached for him too with her sticky hands.
“Where are Avery and Jamie?” Xander asked.
“Speak of us and here we are.” A voice called out and soon enough, Avery and Jameson appeared, with Jameson holding a sleeping Seren and Avery holding the giant teddy bear she’d won for her niece.
“Wasn’t there anything not-the-size-of-a-child?” Libby asked warily, eyeing the huge unicorn and the teddy bear.
“Go big or go home,” Jameson told her.
♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡
An hour later they were back at the Hawthorne House. Both twins had been bathed, changed into pajamas and tucked into bed.
Outside, the estate had grown quiet. The summer air was warm. Crickets chirped somewhere beyond the gardens.
At precisely nine-thirty, every light across the lawn dimmed.
Instinctively, Avery grabbed Jameson’s hand and just then, without warning-
Boom.
A burst of red exploded above the estate.
Another followed.
Blue.
Gold.
Silver.
The private fireworks arched high over Hawthorne House, reflecting in every window before blooming into showers of glittering light.
Another firework blossomed overhead.
Then another.
And another.
The Hawthorne House had always been loud on the Fourth of July.
AN: Am I American? No. Do I celebrate 4th of July? No. But did I write a whole ahh 4399 words long fic about it? Yes, yes, I did. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you have any other request, lemme know!
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