#amonthofwhump

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did. 

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better. 

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax. 

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it. 

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head. 

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble. 

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing. 

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own. 

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn’t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband. 

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to. 

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there. 

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed. 

She doesn’t always roll well. 

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back. 

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them. 

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue. 

No, wait. 

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word. 

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse. 

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.” 

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.” 

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump. 

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.” 

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke. 

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply. 

She can't help herself. 

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear. 

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath. 

“Savvie,” he whispers. 

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

 She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips. 

Her blood. 

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?” 

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.” 

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her. 

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step. 

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch. 

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion. 

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall. 

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.” 

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie. 

-

We’re the same, my boy.

Most of the time, the disembodied voice in his mind during the nightly hours of half-existing sounded like his father.

No one can hear you scream out here.

Sometimes, it sounded like John Watkins, angry but hushed voice echoing through a room underground that Malcolm was not in anymore, having recovered from the knife wound if not from the additional trauma.

It was a hell of a camping trip.

His subconscious scrambled to get away from the voices, whimpering turning into whining, his hands struggling against the bed shackles that were supposed to save him from further injuries, teeth biting the mouthguard hard, neck muscles straining. He threw his head around, wanting to escape the unmistaken feeling of doom and obliteration coming closer.

Its been too long, Malcolm.

 “Hnng. No!”

 An invisible weight suddenly settled on his chest, and on his throat, outgoawaywakeup filling his thoughts and his very being. He could feel his mouth falling open in a desperate attempt to suck in more air, the guard toppling out – but the cloud still surrounded him, sticky darkness holding him prisoner in his own mind.

The darkness had hands, fingers touching his mind, contaminating, poisoning him.

We’re the same.

The back of his head was pressing against the mattress under him, his lungs trying desperately to breath.

You’re going to die, Malcolm.

And you will be reborn as me.

 He heard a yell, muffled and far away and close to his ears at the same time, and he distantly felt a light pain chasing through his wrists.

 “Hey. Hey, kid. Calm down.”

Gil’s voice broke through the cloud of darkness like the sun in the sky did. He snapped back to awareness with another yell, blinking and snapping his mouth shut, his body becoming limp.

“It’s okay, Bright. I’m here.”

He stared at the ceiling, gulping and sucking in air – the invisible weight gone, leaving only a trace of dread and strain behind. A hand appeared on his shoulder, was gone a second later and reappeared on his forehead. Malcolm closed his eyes, concentrating on Gil’s cool fingers.

---

Janet stepped out of the shower, a soft towel wrapped around her. She walked into her bedroom, shivering slightly at the colder temperature compared to the steamy bathroom. She could use magic to start a fire in the fireplace, but she didn’t want to risk exhausting herself before the big event tonight. Walking over to her closet, she opened the doors, smiling slightly at the wide variety of clothing hanging in there. Before she met Isaac and especially before she met Fiona, her wardrobe had often remained dull and basic. But now, with her newfound family more than willing to buy and make clothing for her, Janet found herself with plenty of options.

And she knew the perfect dress for today. It had been made for her by Fiona, with a little help from Archie and Mylaela for a more magic touch, that would apparently help with the random bouts of pain that Janet often suffered through. She pulled it out of the closet carefully, looking it over. It was a deep blue that matched her eyes, though faint dark greens and purples decorated the skirt as well. The straps went around her shoulders instead of over them, looking like a ball gown more than anything. The sleeves were long, starting at where the shoulder straps went around her arm and going to her wrists, which Janet appreciated. The sleeves had a little butterfly wing look, so she could lift up her arms and the fabric would hang down, making her arms look like butterfly wings.

Taking off her towel in favor of quickly drying her hair slightly, Janet got dressed slowly, carefully, so as to not set off any unnecessary pain. Finally, once she was dressed, it was time to do her hair- one of her least favourite things. She took a brush and began to carefully run it through her hair, using her telekinesis to get the ends so she wouldn’t have to strain herself to get down that far. It was quite a handy skill, but didn’t feel too pleasant. Once her tangles were thoroughly worked out, she massaged in a leave-in conditioner. It felt nice to be clean, often she couldn’t shower well, or even at all because of the pain. Janet wondered if she should put her hair up, before shrugging slightly. They wouldn’t judge her if she didn’t have any fancy styles, it was a miracle she was even up anyways. Right?

A sudden anxiety twisted in her chest, and Janet frowned. She itched at her neck, something she tended to do when anxious, looking around her room. There was a sudden pressure on her to do her hair, to do something, to at least look like she tried to look presentable. Tears welled up in her eyes, very much unwanted but just as unstoppable. She sniffled, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. You take so much from them, and don’t even care about your appearance? Shame rushed through her as she attempted to combat that ugly voice. “I- I care,” she mumbled aloud, her voice thick with emotion, “I do, I do care…” she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please… I…” I don’t want to be a burden. Words left unsaid but stung all the same as Janet began to sob.

A knock on her door startled Janet out of her misery, her tears stopping abruptly as she looked up at the door. Oh god, she hadn’t meant to be heard by anyone else, she didn’t want to inconvenience the others. She was already bad enough, laboring them with the pains of taking care of her, she had absolutely no right to bother them with her self doubt and guilt. Janet squeezed her eyes shut tightly and shook her head. No. You can’t be thinking like that, she chided herself, You’re better than this. You know they love you, no matter what. After another moment taken to dry her tears completely, Janet answered the door to a concerned looking Henry.

“Jenny?” His forehead creased as he frowned, looking her up and down. “Are you okay? I thought I heard you crying, and I wanted to check on you.” He reached out and took one of Janet’s hands in his own, squeezing it gently. “I love you, you know,” he murmured gently, looking into her eyes. “You’re my only sister. I care about you a lot. You can always tell me, or father, or even Thane if something- or someone- is bothering you.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. “Although uncle Alli or Thane would probably be better suited to deal with someone bothering you, I can’t really fight.”

Janet laughed softly with him, squeezing his hand back. “No, Henry, I’m alright. Just… got a little sad for a moment.” She hugged him gently. “I know you love me, silly. I love you too. You and papa and even your strange little cat that you found on the side of the road that one time we went out. You’re the best family I could ever ask for.” She pulled away. “Thank you, though. That means a lot to me. I mean it.”

Henry’s eyes shone. “Alright, then. I really like your dress!” he chirped, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Is that the one that Fiona sent you? It looks really good on you, not that you’d look bad in anything.”

Janet pinched his cheek lightly. “Flattery will get you nowhere, young man,” she cooed light heartedly, laughing alongside Henry, letting go as he pulled away. “Now let me finish getting ready, will you? I’m sure the Sullivans will be here any moment, and you need to go find papa to make sure he’s not busy cleaning some remote corner of this castle when they arrive.”

“You joke, but-” Henry started, before running off laughing. “I think I saw him in the library last!” he called back, before disappearing around the corner.

Janet closed the door, walking back over to her closet. She picked out a pair of boots that went along well with the dress (well, at least, she hoped. She’d never been one to have an eye for fashion, but she was sure it would be fine). Finally, she stepped back and looked at herself in the mirror, smiling slightly. She liked how she looked, for once. She ran a brush through her hair one more time before she was fully satisfied. She stepped out of her room and descended the grand staircase into the main hall, looking around at all the decorations Isaac, Henry, and the others had so carefully set up. It truly was beautiful, and she took a moment to admire them before peeking into the kitchen.

There she saw Kathy and Donovan washing some dishes, and Thane lurking in a corner eating a cookie. When she stepped into the room, all three looked over at her, as if expecting to see someone else- likely Isaac or Henry. Kathy’s eyes lit up when she saw it was Janet, and the woman rushed over to give the other a hug.

“Janet!” she squealed, “you’re awake!” She pulled back, holding Janet by her shoulders, looking her over. “Are you feeling alright? You aren’t sick? Oh, this is wonderful!”

Janet couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, but she brushed the feeling away, smiling at Kathy. “Yeah, I’m doing alright.” She looked over at Thane. “Are you supposed to be eating that yet or…?”

Kathy turned to see the spectre eating the cookies. “Thane! I told you to leave those!” She went to take it from Thane, but he simply disappeared into the shadows and appeared in a different part of the room. “No fair!” Kathy exclaimed, although it was light hearted. “Fine, you can have that one. But no more, or I’ll put a spell tag on you just to slap you.”

Thane chuckled. “You’d have to catch me first, and you have a hard time doing that even when I’m not expecting it. Good luck.”

Donovan sighed. “It’s nice to see you around, Janet. Kathy, can you help please?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, sorry!” Kathy went back to the sink to continue helping her fiance wash the dishes. She looked at Janet once more. “We’ll join you after we’re finished, I may have made too many cookies and used a couple more pans than I meant to…”

“A couple isn’t what I would use to describe how many you used,” Donovan grumbled, but he was smiling. He kissed Kathy lightly on the cheek.

Janet walked out of the kitchen, going to sit down on one of the couches in the main hall. She let out a sigh of exhaustion as she sat. Even walking that little had been enough to tire her out. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes. She felt so tired now, surely a little rest wouldn’t hurt…

Her sensitive ears picked it up before anyone else did. Footsteps, heavy footsteps, in the snow. Voices that could only belong to a few people, people who everyone there held dear to their hearts. Janet jumped up from the couch, briefly regretting it when a sharp spike of pain shot up her right leg, but she ignored it in favor of rushing to the door. She peeked out the window and saw three figures walking through the snow, all bundled up, and opened the door for them when they got close. “Fiona! Allistair! Archie!” A smile lit up her face. “It’s so nice to see you all!”

“Jenny!” Fiona rushed into the castle and threw her arms around Janet. “You’re here!” Once again, there was surprise in her voice, but Janet was too excited to feel guilty this time. She hugged Fiona back, before pulling away and looking up at the other two.

“God, Allistair, you’re taller than I remembered,” Janet commented, letting out a soft huff. “I’m going to get dizzy looking up at you.”

“Not my fault you’re short,” Allistair shot back, before laughing. “It’s good to see you again, Janet. Where’s Isaac?”

Janet sighed, stepping out of the way to let the three further into the house. “Henry’s looking for him. He should be here any moment now, he was busy cleaning the house. Again.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Isaac appeared in front of the group, looking somewhat disheveled, but better than he had been earlier. “Allistair! Fiona, Archie, welcome! I’m-”

Allistair scooped his Saint up into a hug. “If you say that you’re sorry for the mess, I think I might smack you,” he joked, before setting a now flustered Isaac down. “You look like you’ve been working hard, Saint.”

Isaac wrang his hands together, looking away. “Y-yes, I have. But it was nothing, really. I just wanted to make you all feel welcome.”

“Auntie Jenny!” Archie chirped, excited to see her again as well it seemed, “May I hug you please?”

Fiona gently whacked her son over the head. “Take off your jackets first, honey. You don't want Jenny to freeze to death.”

Archie playfully whined, beginning to take his many layers off. “It’s really cold out, but there were so many birds! Grandda says that birds tell stories when they sing, you just need to listen!” he prattled on, eyes shining.

“I think he says that about everything,” Allistair quipped, “Listen to the grass too, maybe it’ll tell you a story.”

Fiona smacked her husband’s shoulder- she was far too small to reach his head, and she had to reach to even smack his shoulder. “Be nice, Allistair!” she chided lightly, which earned a chuckle from the sailor.

Archie finally got out of his last coat and threw his arms around Janet, who squeaked in surprise from the sudden hug. She tensed up for a moment, before huffing softly and hugging him back. “Give me some warning before you do that, will you?” she laughed, “You could’ve knocked me over.”

Fiona and Allistair began to slowly take off all their layers, Isaac ready to help the moment either of them asked. Janet stepped away, feeling the chill begin to creep into her bones. She silently cursed her broken body as she limped over to the fire, letting herself warm up. She sat down, sighing softly. Even that slight exposure to the cold had been enough to chill her, and she was already tired from all the moving around. Walking was so much energy, she really didn’t have it in her. And she knew, she knew she was lucky to even be able to walk, to be up and moving and talking and awake. But she couldn’t help but wish for more. She wanted to be able to run around, jump about, and not have to immediately sit down after walking five feet or standing for five minutes.

Someone sat down beside her, and Janet nearly jumped out of her skin. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even picked up that someone else was there, approaching her, even with her sensitive hearing. She looked over and saw that it was Fiona, cheeks still bright red from the cold journey she had taken, eyes shining with life, hair slightly mussed up from her hat. “Fiona…?” Janet trailed off, not really knowing where she was going to go with that sentence. “Is something wrong?” she asked, not sure what to say.

Fiona laughed softly, shaking her head. “It’s so cold out, it’s nice to warm up for a bit by the fire.” She turned her gaze back to the crackling flames, casting a dim glow overshadowed by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. “You also looked like you needed somebody to talk to.”

Janet sighed. “Am I really that much of an open book?” She didn’t need an answer, she already knew what it would be anyways. “Thank you, Fiona, but-”

“Ah-ah, none of that. Jenny, babe, what’s bothering you?” Kind, concerned, beautiful green eyes looked up at her, and Janet crumbled under their gaze.

“I just… I feel so cruel,” Janet started, “I’m taunting you all. I’m up now, but I’m not… normal. I can’t be like you all. And who knows how long it’ll be before I’m back in bed, unable to get out? I sometimes feel like if I didn’t have these moments, you wouldn’t… wouldn’t wait for me, you know? Everyone’s so excited to see me around, and I’m happy to see them too, but I just feel so guilty. Everyone expects me to never be around. I feel like a burden.” Fiona sighed softly, closing her eyes briefly. “Jenny… none of us expect or want you to be ‘normal’. You aren’t even abnormal. You’re just a little different from the rest of us, but we’re all different from each other. This is just the way you’re different. And you can’t control that just as much as we can control our freckles, our noses, our eyes… you’re not a burden just because you need extra help either. You’re our friend, we care about you and love you so much. We aren’t going to stop caring about you because you’re bedridden, or you’re sick, or whatever it is that’s happening. Because we love you, not your body or what you can do. We love who you are, we love your spirit. No matter what happens to the vessel, the spirit never changes. You will always be a kind, caring, loveable girl who I care deeply for.”

Janet sat in silence for a moment, watching the fire crackle and pop. She fought back tears, drawing her knees up to her chest. “...thank you, Fiona. I needed that.” She looked over at the other woman. “I’d kiss you, but your husband is watching and I don't think he’d like that.”

“Oh, to hell with that.” Fiona pulled Janet in close and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “There you go.” She smiled. “I should go start getting ready. I’ll see you soon, Jenny, alright?” She stood up and walked over to Allistair, who was waiting for her. Archie had already run upstairs to get ready and find Captain Albert, the squid plushie that had been given as a gift to his father a while ago.

Janet remained by the fire, the warmth seeping into her bones. Tiredness washed over her, a powerful wave that quickly pulled her under. She drifted into the sweet grasp of sleep, warmed by both the fire and Fiona’s kind words.

--

“Jenny, dear?”

“I think she fell asleep again, poor thing.”

“Can we move her to a couch? I can’t imagine she’s very comfortable on the floor…”

“I don’t want to wake her up, though.”

Janet woke to the sound of concerned voices and a slight headache. She slowly opened her eyes, gazing up at Stella and Mylaela. She blinked, confirming what she was seeing. “...Myla? Stella?” She slowly sat up, groaning softly at the pain in her back. She took another moment to regain her senses before speaking again. “I… fell asleep on the floor again.” It wasn’t a question. Shame flooded through her as the two other women nodded. “...I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no worries dear. We were just worried, is all,” Stella tried to reassure Janet. “My boy Isaac told me it’s something you might do, I was just worried seeing it happen.”

Another pang of guilt shot through Janet, who looked away. She looked back over at Stella and Mylaela after a moment, trying to change the subject. “I thought you’d arrive with your son, Myla. Did something hold you up?”

Mylaela nodded. “Yes, I had to get something. I met with Stella on the way here, and we arrived a few minutes ago.”

Janet hummed softly to herself. “It’s nice to see you two again. I missed you.”

Stella pulled Janet close into a tight hug. “Oh, we missed you as well, Jenny! It’s been so long since I last saw you up and about.” She pulled away. “Have you been eating enough? You look so thin, of course not-”

“Give her some space,” Mylaela interjected, and Stella laughed slightly before stepping away. “How are you feeling?”

Janet closed her eyes for a moment. “I… better than usual. A little worse than earlier, I have a headache,” she admitted. “I probably need to drink something.”

“I can get you something,” Stella offered, “Would you like tea? Water?”

“Water is fine,” Janet murmured, pressing the back of her hand to her head. “I can get it myself-”

“No, no, really. It’s no trouble at all,” Stella said cheerfully, before walking away to go get Janet some water.

Janet watched her go before looking up at Mylaela. “May you help me stand up please?”

“Of course, dear.” Mylaela gently helped Janet stand, steadying her when she stumbled. “Careful, now.”

Janet leaned against Myla for a moment before she was steady enough to stand on her own. “Thank you very much,” she murmured, to which Myla nodded slightly. Janet’s eyes darted up as Stella came back holding a full water bottle. Janet was relieved at seeing that- she didn’t really trust herself to not accidentally drop a glass, or at least spill it. Stella must’ve remembered her preference for water bottles.

“Here you go, Jenny dear.” Stella handed her the water bottle, smiling when Janet took it. “You look beautiful, by the way. That dress looks just stunning on you.”

Janet flushed, looking away shyly. “Thank you. You look really pretty too,” she murmured, looking at Stella’s silver dress. “I like that colour on you.” She took a sip of her water, feeling parched.

“Aw, you’re too sweet,” Stella cooed, “I really like this dress too.” She looked over to Mylaela. “I suppose you aren’t one for dresses?”

Mylaela shook her head. “I just never liked how they looked on me. Besides, if something happened, I can move more freely without one. I much prefer skirts, you’re very free in them.” She ran her hands over the fabric of her skirt, smiling. Janet laughed softly. “Well, I see where Allistair gets his tendency to overthink things.”

“It’s called being prepared, lass,” Allistair called out, startling the three women. The redhead captain had approached them with all the stealth of a rogue, Isaac following close behind.

“Our Lady, Allistair!” Stella exclaimed, “Don’t sneak up on us like that!” She clutched at her chest dramatically. “You’ll give this old woman a heart attack!”

“Mother, don’t joke about that,” Isaac pleaded, to which Stella laughed.

“It’s alright, Isaac. I’m not actually going to die of fright.” Stella quickly pulled her boy into a hug, causing him to squeak. “I’d have died a long time ago if it was going to happen.”

“Mother-” Isaac started, but she cut him off.

“Now, where’s that nice suit I gave you? You should go put that on. Unless…” Stella faked a hurt expression. “...you don’t like it?”

Isaac’s eyes widened as he paled. “No! No, I love it! I’ll- I’ll go do that right now!” He disappeared, much to Janet and Mylaela’s amusement.

“Children are so fun to tease,” Janet giggled, thinking back fondly of the times she would tease her children when they had grown up.

“Indeed they are.” Mylaela looked at Allistair, who flinched back.

“Ma, really, do you have to-” Allistair started.

“I brought baby pictures.” Mylaela pulled a book out of thin air. “Alli was such a little bean when he was younger.”

“Ma!” Allistair protested, to no avail. Mylaela had already opened the book and was showing Janet and Stella all of the adorable pictures of the younger Allistair.

“Are you sure that’s him? He’s so tiny~” Janet cooed, smirking when Allistair’s face flushed. “Such a big man now, aren’t you?”

“Janet! Lass, please,” Allistair begged, although the sparkle in his eye indicated his light heartedness. “Ma, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Well, then why don’t you come over and look at the pictures too? That way you can see there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Mylaela invited, sighing overdramatically when Allistair shook his head. “Well, then I’ll just have to keep showing your adorable little face~”

“Ooh, are we looking at Allistair’s baby pictures?” Fiona appeared at the top of the stairs, descending quickly. She had changed out of her warm clothes and into a lovely dress. She walked over to Allistair and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, before practically skipping over to the gathered women. “Awww, Alli! Don’t tell me this is you!” she cooed.

Allistair groaned in embarrassment, covering his face. “Hen, please! Not you too!”

“Oh yes, me too!” Fiona exclaimed, giggling. “Aww, you look like Archie did when he was little! Such a shame I didn’t bring pictures of him…”

“I think he’s the only one who’d be upset you didn’t bring his baby pictures,” Allistair grumbled, rubbing his face. “You could’ve brought his instead of mine, ma.”

“Oh, but I did!” Mylaela flipped through a few pages of the book, before humming triumphantly. “Here we are! The Archie section~”

An excited squeal came from the top of the staircase. Archie practically jumped down the stairs. “Gramma!” He threw himself at Mylaela, who staggered back from the force of the boy’s hug. “Gramma, you’re here!”

“Archie!” Fiona scolded, “be careful!”

Archie pulled back with a whine. “Sorry gramma!”

Mylaela laughed, ruffling his hair. “It’s alright, young one. Your enthusiasm is not unlike anything I’ve seen before.” She cast a glance at Allistair, who shrugged innocently. “Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about young man,” she quipped, earning a chuckle from her son.

Archie was dressed in a pretty floral dress, his bangs pinned back with a flower pin. Janet winced a little at all the flowers, but she kept herself under control. You shouldn’t ruin another thing for them, she internally chided herself, you’ve already done enough damage here. A small voice in the back of her mind, the part she always tried to suppress, piped up. Just a stupid pet. That’s all you’ll ever be.

“Jenny?”

Janet blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Huh? Is something wrong?” she asked, still sounding distant.

“Are you alright, lass?” Allistair’s gruff voice was concerned, soft. “You spaced out for a moment there.”

Janet forced a smile. “Yes, sorry. I’m alright. I just got thinking about something. It’s nothing, though.”

Allistair clearly wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t press further. Thank god for that. Janet looked up as Henry and Isaac appeared, both dressed up like everyone else. Isaac was wearing the suit Stella had mentioned earlier, and was fidgeting nervously, a soft blush on his face.

Stella cooed. “Oh, my little star child! You look absolutely adorable!”

Isaac covered his face, turning red. “Mother-!”

“Ah-ah, I won’t hear any complaints or protests. Come, come! We must open presents now!” Stella took Isaac by the hands and led her son over to the enormous pine tree, which had been decorated with great care by Isaac, Henry, Kathy, Donovan, Bradley, and the others. Janet had had to sit out of the decorating for the most part, but she had at least been able to use her telekinesis to lift Henry up so he could put the star on top of the tree.

Piled beneath the tree were heaps of presents of all shapes in sizes, wrapped in colourful paper. The presents had slowly been amassing under the tree over the past week or so, everyone putting in their presents when they could. Janet’s eyes drifted to where she had put her gifts, all decorated in blue wrapping paper with a silver ribbon tied carefully around each one. She hoped her gifts were good, she hadn’t gone Christmas shopping in… some odd two hundred or so years. Half of her life. She had spent over half her life in captivity.

And suddenly, she wasn’t in the grand hall anymore, surrounded by those who loved her, by lights that shone bright. She was back in that house, cowering in the basement, clothes and skin torn open by the cruel whip that her master held. Chains wrapping around her arms, legs, forcing her to remain in place as the demon raised the whip again. She was ripped back into reality as her bare feet touched the snow, and she realized she had teleported. A shriek ripped it’s way from her lips, mostly from the shock. Sinking up to her knees into the snow, Janet burst into tears, the sudden cold spreading through her body, numbing her, stiffening her bones. She knew it, she knew that she was going to do something stupid and ruin everything. She never should’ve woken up at all, should’ve stayed in bed. This is why you can’t have nice things.

Janet was shaking violently now. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t get herself to teleport. She knew they were panicking, looking for her, but she couldn’t move. She was ruining what was supposed to be a happy moment. Again.

She was lifted out of the snow by gentle hands, and a familiar voice hummed softly along with the melody of the breeze, sending a calming magic through Janet’s body. She clung to the man who had rescued her, weeping silently. She kept gasping out apologies in between sobs.

Viranthellion held the sobbing girl close, humming a soothing melody. Magic surrounded them, protecting them from the cold that had ravaged Janet’s frail body in such a short time. He let Janet pull away when she needed, smiling kindly at the teary eyed girl. “Hello, Janet,” he greeted softly.

Janet opened her mouth as though she was about the speak, but decided against it with a small shake of her head. She wiped her eyes, sniffling quietly, trembling still from the cold and shock of the whole experience. Her face was red, either from the cold or shame, possibly both. Once again, she looked up at Viranthellion, speaking this time. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I messed up. I made you come here-”

Viranthellion shook his head. “I felt your distress. I chose to come to you. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to.” That was a little bit of a lie, but sometimes lies were necessary in life. Of course, if his madam Dai Rhen heard him say that… His hand instinctively went up to his head and rubbed at an imaginary sore spot.

Janet looked away, her expression full of shame. “I need to go back, but…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence.

“You don’t want to,” Viranthellion finished, smiling slightly when she nodded. “You’re worried they’ll hate you, hm?”

“They should,” Janet murmured, “I’d feel less guilty if they hated me than if they kept loving me like they do. It’s… it’s not fair.” Frustration grew in her voice. “I don’t deserve this, but they keep insisting I do. I don’t know what to do with all their kindness and love. What if I keep slipping up, and they start to resent me? I… I don’t think I could handle it if they started hating me.”

Viranthellion sighed softly, humming thoughtfully. “Janet, I’ve lived for almost a millennium. I’ve travelled to every corner of this earth, heard the stories of a billion men. I’ve seen people be born, watched them grow, and then finally become old and weary. I’ve watched the caskets of those whose mothers and fathers I knew be buried under the earth. I’ve seen so many things, so many different types of people. I’ve become quite skilled with reading people. And never, not in another thousand years, not for as long as they grace the earth, will any one of the people who care about you start to resent you for your trauma. They will not turn away because you believe you do not deserve their affections. They will love you, for all your flaws, because they can see the beauty in you. And that beauty is what draws them to you, what makes you the wonderful woman you are.”

Tears had begun to streak down Janet’s face as Viron spoke. His words touched her, moved something deep inside. It seemed like these were the words she hadn’t known she had needed to hear. “Viranthellion…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it trembled with so much emotion.

The elf smiled, holding his hand out to her. “Let’s go join our family, shall we?” he offered, his eyes shining kindly.

Janet wiped her eyes one more time before taking his hand. “Thank you.”

—

After the initial worrying and fussing over Janet had calmed down, the family gathered around the Christmas tree once more, now with Fiona’s father joining them. Chatter and laughter grew as everyone opened their presents. Janet opened one that was very clearly from Archie, smiling as she pulled out a pair of warm, fuzzy socks.

“Thank you, Archie.” She stood up and walked over to the boy, hugging him. “I’ll make sure to wear these often.”

Archie giggled, his eyes shining. “I’m glad you like them, Auntie Jenny!” he squealed. “I really like the book you gave me, it looks really good.” He smiled broadly. “Was this yours when you were a kid?”

Janet nodded. “A Little Pretty Pocket Book was what I read before bed every night. It was fascinating to me… I’m surprised it survived this long, but magic is a wonder.”

“It really is,” Viranthellion chuckled. He peered at the old book in Archie’s hand curiously. “The magic around that book feels strange, though.”

Janet shrugged. “Maybe my magic was different back then.”

“Maybe,” Viron agreed, although he cast another worried look towards the book Archie was now excitedly flipping through.

Isaac held up a soft gray sweater that matched the colour of his eyes. “Mother!” he exclaimed, “this is lovely!”

Stella smiled, kissing her son on the head. “I know it is. I made it myself. With magic, of course,” she smirked.