#bohrap x reader

A lot were calling you a whore, a user, and some were attacking your physique. You never fully loved yourself so accidentally reading people's comments on it undoubtedly affected you so much. You’ve only started to try accepting your flaws and already reading negative comments immediately caused your progress to crumble. You threw your phone to the side of the bed, sniffing, you didn’t even notice that you were crying. “Stupid,” you murmured, grabbing a tissue and blowing your nose with it. “Whore. 

“A slut.

“Piece of shit.

“User.”

The insults were escaping from your lips as you tried to forget about them but it was just wanting to throb its way into your head. “I fucking hate myself,” you groaned, rolling to your side and covering yourself with your blanket. “I knew what I was getting into when I started to like Joe but.... this is just too much.”

You searched for your phone under your sheets when it started ringing. Joe, read the caller ID. You looked at the funny picture of him that you used as the contact picture, you lightly laughed, debating whether or not you should pick up.

You didn’t really want to talk to him and you feel like the people weren't wrong; Joe did deserve better, someone prettier and can actually match his talent. And you're just...

A nobody.

You powered off your phone, lying down and closing your night lamps to try and get some sleep.

After a few minutes of just lying there and trying to sleep, you finally got up, throwing a coat on and walked downstairs. You decided to take a walk, you know you can only fall asleep faster if you're physically tired. You opened the door and both you and Joe jumped, his hand was hanging over the doorbell, just about to press it. His face lightened up when he saw you, immediately pulling you into a crushing hug. "You didn't answer my calls, I was really worried," he murmured before loosening the hug. "Are you okay? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Tell me. I'll listen, I'll try to be better —"

"It's not — it's not you Joe, don't worry about it." You forced a smile. He broke the hug, still holding you at arm's length, he looked at you sadly. "What's wrong then? You didn't hug me back."

You just looked at his begging eyes, wanting to know what's going on inside your head. "Are you going somewhere? I'll walk with you —"

"Joe..." You said, cutting him off again. "Joe, I think... I think we should stop... You know... Whatever this is that we have."

The words were enough to cause his eyes to well up, you were looking down on your feet, you didn't have the strength to tell him that while looking at his sad eyes — you know it's going to make you cry.

"Why?" He asked, his voice was a whisper.

"Just... Because." You quickly looked at him, a tear was threatening to fall. "Goodnight, Joe."

You were about to close the door but he stopped it with his foot, gently opening it and walking in your house uninvited. "Joe, you need to go, I'm really, really, really tired."

"I'm not leaving, y/n. Not unless you tell me what's wrong."

"I already told you —"

"Just because? That's not a reason. Come on, you can't just say let's stop, and expect me to be okay with it, just leave and never pester you for the reason," he argued, looking up to stop the tears. "I just think... I just think you deserve better, Joe," you admitted, a tear finally made its way down your cheek, looking away, you furtively wiped it off.

He wrapped you in a comforting hug, your tears started to fall uncontrollably. "You're perfect, y/n. What could possibly be better than perfect?"

"I'm not, Joe. I'm not pretty, I'm not smart, I'm not talented —"

"Stop saying that, who told you that?" He worriedly asked, backing away a little so he could see your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs, "I told you not to read anything about us, y/n. I like you, okay? Just the way you are. You're perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect. I love all your little things

The way your nose wrinkles when you smile, your squinted eyes, your loud, contagious laugh, your ridiculous obsession over the young versions of 70-year-old rock stars —" you laughed, lightly hitting his arm. "I love those things about you. The way you shy away when someone compliments you, the way you ramble on about the things you love to do, the way you weirdly dip your fries on your sundae —" you both laughed. "I love everything about you, y/n. I love you."

You looked at him, a little taken aback by the last three words, he's never said those to you. "Do you mean that?" You asked, he nodded. "I really mean it. I love you. You don't have to say it back if you're not ready, I just wanted to let you know and —"

"I love you too, Joe." You smiled, he looked at you excitedly. "Yeah?" He said, the excitement evident in his voice. "Yeah," you grinned, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I love you too."

He leaned in to give you a short but sweet kiss on the lips, "I love you. Don't ever think you're not deserving," he whispered before leaning in for another kiss, this time, longer.

You smiled through the kiss, thinking how you're the luckiest person in the world to have Joe, no one could ever quiet your insecurities better than he can.

He dipped his quill into ink again and wrote down a few more ideas.

Could Jocelyn be reported?

There was no evidence to report other than Y/N’s word. Mercy would never blame Jocelyn for anything and would never believe that her beloved mistress poisoned her. Doctor Priestly knew his poison was missing, and the symptoms. But there was no proof Jocelyn took it. And she would get rid of the poison or put it back.

What if there was a trial? At best, she would be imprisoned for her actions. But Jocelyn was mercurial, she could charm people. She was on good terms with the Governor. She nearly seduced him minutes ago.

But at worst, he would be punished for spreading falsehoods. Jocelyn would be unscathed. And she could get away to do to Y/N whatever she wanted to do

Hire a soldier to protect Y/N?

It might look silly, but it was worth it. Though people might ask questions. The solider himself didn’t have to talk if paid properly. No matter how expensive it might be, he had to have Y/N safe. Anything. Anything that would make her safe. Please God, keep her safe.

But…how long would the soldier last?

The money would run out eventually. Then the soldier would run away, and his darling would be vulnerable.

Vulnerable unless someone was there. Someone who could always be there. The solider was the best choice but…there was one more option to consider.

Hardly leaving your house, you were scared to go anywhere or do anything alone. You made your choice and your fate would be sealed.

You didn’t know what method Jocelyn was planning. You only knew you had to defy it somehow. And even though you had to settle for life as a hermit in the colony, you were alive.

What choice had you? Who knew what Jocelyn would do and how she would act next Except for church, you could hardly go anywhere. You knew the second you were alone, it meant danger. Somehow. Even the walk to church and back, your eyes were peeled around everywhere, and you walked quickly. When you entered the house, you slammed the door shut. Pressing your back against it, you started panting. Then you slid down to your floor.

Stomach rumbling with hunger, you only took a few bites of your safe bread and drank a bit of goat’s milk. It didn’t stop the rumbling. But you didn’t want to risk anything. No food you ate felt entirely safe. After the milk hit your stomach you waited. Nothing happened, and you exhaled deeply.

Perhaps… there was one way. A way to have protection after all. But there was something you would need. Even if you did die, you knew it would not be in vain. You would beat her at her own game.

You had to do something. Fast. You had to make friends here. Allies. And powerful ones.

That afternoon as soon as the second church service was done, you looked for the tall brown head of Lady Yeardley. She always carried her Bible with her clutching as tight as if it were a shield. But her grip loosened as she noticed your polite curtsy and called her name.

“Oh, Y/N, what is it?”

Her husband chatted away with the minister. Oblivious.

“I…I would like to wonder since you are the most devoted woman out here in all our colony…what are ways I can be closer to God?” you asked, eyeing the book.

“Well, prayer, devotion, and reading of scripture daily…Y/N, your devotion to your faith is admirable. Even if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, my child, you can move mountains,” she answered kindly. Her eyes warmed to you.

“I just…I have…. I have so many fears and worries, I would like to find some comfort and peace with God. Since no one else here is a better Christian lady then you, I just…wondered how you have such peace?” you flattered, tucking away a loose strand of hair.

“Cast all your cares unto Him, and all will be well. Well, I make sure to just practice. Each morning, I rise at five to read and study my bible… you may join me if you’d like.”

Glancing away, you saw no blonde head walking around near you.

“Really?” you replied.

“Yes! We can read and pray together, discuss what the scripture is saying. Also…do you remember the old hymns from England?”

“Most of them, my lady,” you answered obediently.

“You could sing a few! I’ve just missed them terribly during church,” she said.

“Me as well! I…” you say, putting on your brightest smile you could muster, “yes…I will see you the next morning! I look forward to it.”

Yes, you would find comfort in praying. Exchanging a bit of sleep and your song for Lady Yeardley’s friendship would be worth it. And if the wife was affectionate of you, then the husband would be. You would have allies. You would be safe. And that was worth having to get up with the roosters.

Hurrying home, you caught your breath as soon as the door shut. There was another plan in store.

You ran up to your books and looked through the pages, finding two that were bare enough. You hated to ruin such lovely things, but you had no choice. It was your books or your life. Looking up the right words, you drew them in the air and then practiced writing them all over in the small corners.

The writing was memorized in your hands and mind now.

Looking among your things you found a small wooden chest. Only fit your lace gloves were in there, your one luxury. The paper would fit perfectly.

So far, you would write only two. The bare minimum.

You wrote carefully, making sure each word would be understandable. There was fire beneath your borrowed quill.

Yes…I borrowed it from Mercy…she must have gotten it from…

Shaking the thought away, you pulled yourself back to focus. The words seemed perfectly readable.

Looking around and seeing no face was peeking through your window, you began to blow it dry. Then after a bit of settling, you folded it up and placed it in the wooden box.

Then the next morning you headed over to the Sharrow’s farm. Although you yawned from the early hours and your voice was a little hoarse from a bit of early hymn singing (Even though Lady Yeardley did adore it and coo over you like a proud aunt), it was lovely to see the orange sky peep over the horizon as it settled on the tobacco field. You knew farmers kept early hours. She would be there.

Alice was blooming as much as the tobacco plants in the field before the farm. She touched them with tenderness, feeling them grow because of her. Her hair was tied back and she wore an apron that seemed a little dirty, but she looked as grand as any princess. She was smiling as she watered them. It seemed the ghost of her torture had gone away. Just for a moment.

“Pardon me…” you greeted, moving closer to her.

She ran up to embrace you, cheeks flushing.

“Y/N! I’ve been so busy! Oh, how are you?” she asked.

Nodding, you peeked over your shoulder and saw no sign of anyone listening. Then continued.

“I’m well! At least for now…but I came here because I have something for you…” you announced

You brought forth the small wooden box.

“Why, what’s in it?” she asked, she pulled the lid open until your hands shot forth and shut it closed.

“No! Alice! You can’t see what’s inside! I’m giving this to you because…”

Walking closer, you lowered your voice.

“I think I’m going to die. I’m in danger.”

“Danger? But why- who?” she asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I cannot tell you.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe to tell you, not if you still want protection from…. but…if something should happen to me…if I die, and not of illness, open this box. Hide it so no one but you know where it is. If I die, open it. Tell people it was from me. But you are not to look at it unless something should happen, do you understand!” you order, looking right into her eyes.

There was a pause. The robins and sparrows chattered around you. There were footsteps from the house.

She nodded. “Yes, I promise, Y/N.”

“Good…I can breathe a little easier,” you said.

Once you returned home, you began to write in the second free piece of paper. Trying to keep the letters small, the more papers, the better.

You thought there was the sound of hoofbeats outside. But you shrugged it off. That is until there was a sudden knock on the door that surprised you so much that the ink jolted in your hand as you signed it.

Your dress or apron was too obvious a hiding place. Scurrying, you took off your left stocking and placed it inside. If it was your moment of death, then it was a place where she could never suspect anything.

“I’m coming,” you called out as you slid your feet over the paper and put on your stocking and shoe again.

But running up to answer it, you saw it was not Jocelyn.

“S-Sa-M-Master Castelll! Hello! What brings you here!” you greeted. It was better to not call him by his first name in a place where someone could hear you. Keeping an illusion of polite distance.

He was dressed in a side cape that flowed over his left shoulder and was brightly patterned. You felt embarrassingly poor. He stepped a little closer as did you. But you stopped. As much as you craved it, in public was no place to embrace. No matter how handsome he looked that day. Eyes downward, you found your face growing hot. It seemed he was like the sun and if you stared at him directly you would go blind from daring.

But your eyes flickered to behind him where a tall brown horse stood right behind him.

“Did you…did you ride here?” you asked in disbelief.

He looked behind to see the horse and turned back to you nodding.

“Yes, Y/N! I know I could walk, but…can you ride as well! There’s someplace I’d like to show you- and it’s much better to ride than walk there. It’s a bit of a long way away! But can you ride a horse? If so, I’ll bring you one!” he offered.

“Uh, no!” you reply quickly, shaking your head.

“Hm, doesn’t matter! I’ll keep you on, tight!”

“Wait, what?”

“Please, come with me! My horse is gentle! You have to see this place!” he begged, eyes bright and pleading.

It was better than another hour alone and doing nothing out of fear.

“I…uhm, alright,” you agreed.

Walking forward, you felt his hands go to your waist and hoist you up so your feet could be secured. It made you nervous to feel how he was making sure you were safely on by pushing you up and tightening on.

You were securely on the horse, astride as you have noticed ladies ride them, with both of your legs on one side. Though feeling the creature breathe beneath you was a touch unsettling. A wrong move and it would knock you over.

He climbed up on the horse as easily as walking, making sure the cape was on one side. Clicking his tongue, he put the reigns in his hands and the horse trotted off. He was so close you could almost make out his pulse and his pleasant smell. But as you passed a few townsfolk, you had to hide your face in slight embarrassment, biting back your tongue to scold him from riding with you in public.

There were a few funny looks- who even knew. The Recorder riding off with some woman that not his fiancée.

Once the town was out of sight, the horse did a slow gallop over on a path where trees passed by, shading you from the hot Virginia sun.

“What do you think of riding, Y/N?”

“It’s…it’s thrilling! Is it always safe?”

“When you’re careful. And my horse has a gentle soul, I told you.”

As you passed a small clearing, you petted his mane gently. You heard him brush a little in appreciation.

“Would you like to hold the reigns? For a bit?”

“Yes!”

You hold onto the leather, feeling him hand them over to you. It felt incredible to have that control. To suddenly travel fast to wherever you wanted to go.

“There it is-right straight ahead…you can lead us there.”

You kept the reigns steady, moving it a little for the horse to keep forward.

The horse reached another clearing. For a while, he picked up the pace and you gripped the reigns to hold on.  There was a beautiful wide sky above you and a field with a path and grass growing high enough that bees did not strain to float above it. There were a few trees that went by you as you both rode, ducking your heads under branches that were stretching down. You noticed a few plants that had little blooms passed you, a few of their puffs and petals blowing in the wind. It was a universe of emerald all around you. As the grass shortened, you saw one tobacco field that was still full of dirt and sweaty men in brown hats plowing it.

Then you came upon another large tobacco field. Only the plants in bloom in this one. The sun was peeking and disappearing beneath large, white clouds. There were no workers. They almost looked like large leaves of spinach from the ground. Already you could smell them.

“Y/N…these are some of our tobacco fields. Have you ever seen them before?” he asked.

“I have not!” you respond, looking around.

Your head tilted, but you didn’t dare crane your neck too far. Anything that would make you fall. But his hands replaced yours on the reigns. Feeling his arms were around you made your breath feel short.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…it’s huge!”

Why would he want to show you a tobacco field, though? The size, you admit it, was impressive. Maybe if you planted your own, you could get some form of money. Protection. Freedom.

“That’s not even all of it. Some people plant their own, like the Sharrows. But here-here is the heart of our tobacco, where most of us keep ours,” he explained.

“Whose tobacco does all this belong to? Do they…divide it?” you asked curiously.

He smiled and then lifted his arm to point to a certain direction.”

“The Governor’s tobacco is over there north. Most people have at least a little tobacco. Farlow’s is to the east…”

“Do you have any?” you asked.

He prompted his horse to walk forward slightly. You saw a little brown sign around there and could read his last name carved onto the wooden sign.

“This is mine,” he announced.

Turning around to him he smiled gently.

“I began planting it the day I arrived. I was the youngest son of a family with nothing to offer youngest sons, Y/N. I came here to have a new start. A new life. And I chose to invest in some tobacco. That’s what the company is making money off of, that’s a way I could have financial security. Far more than I would in England without being dependent my family’s help.”

He got off the horse, helping you as you climbed out.

You felt yourself smiling.

“That’s very good, Samuel. I’m proud of you. You’ve saved things. And it seems you’ve worked hard. You’ve done so much for this community, for everyone. I can see it.” you praise, looking at it.

“Do you know how much tobacco I have?” he asked.

“No, I don’t.”

“250 pounds right now,” he answered. “It’s enough…more than enough, even.”

You folded your arms, looking at it. The sun was hiding behind a cloud and you no longer had to squint. There was silence. You heard the horse whinny behind you at a bug that buzzed by him. Turning around, you saw him only looking at you, still smiling his same smile, but with something behind it.

“Enough for…for what?” you questioned, shrugging.

Suddenly you knew how much 150 pounds could buy a man and you froze.

“Why…why are you telling me this? What’s happening?” you asked, you felt a rush. Your muscles were tense as if ready to flee. It was like hope, but too good, too good to be true. It was false. This had to be false.

“Y/N…I know you want me to help you, and I think, to…to keep you safe…” He looked down at his hands and then turned his head up.

“Would you like me to become your husband?” he asked.

You freeze. The words seem to echo in your ear. Your hands reach up and catch yourself, nearly dizzy from the shock. He leaned over and took your hand to steady you

“What? But you’re engaged! You can’t take another wife, it’s illegal!” you cried.

“I broke if off three nights ago after you told me what she did to Mercy…” he said, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“Wha-How? Is that illegal?” you gasped.

“No. I already paid the company early for Jocelyn. Now she’s here and they have their money. The governor gave his consent for a quiet annulment. Honestly, the company won’t care if she’s married if they have the money…I was thinking…”

He cupped your cheek and you leaned on it, your hand on top of his.

“This is the way you could be kept safe. You would have my constant protection. No need to check the food. Because I will always try it. I or Mercy would always be by your side. And I’m going to hire a soldier to guard you and…I remember you said that you loved me…do you still love me?”

His voice softened. You found yourself tearing up, jaw open from the feeling of sudden, extreme happiness.

“I-I do,” you answered, your voice breaking.

“Then we could be together…would you…would you like that? Let me be plain…”

He took both of your hands, speaking with a docile voice.

“Y/N, would you like to marry me?”

Tears dotted your eyelids, sobbing but with happiness. You reached a hand up to wipe it away, finding smiling almost aching your face

“I wouldn’t marry any other man in all the world but you. Y-yes!” you choked out, embracing him.

He scooped you up into a hug, picking you up and turning around your skirt flying. Hidden with the tall green leaves and solitude of the plants, you began to laugh a little. He placed his hands on your face and you both kissed, eyes closing with the pleasure of feeling it. When you let go, you both opened your eyes, but his hands were still on your face.

He cupped your face.

“You! You-You’ll be my wife!”

You kissed the right hand that was holding you.

“And you’ll be my husband, the best of husbands in all creation,” you confirmed.

Both of you walked for a while, somewhat closer to the trees. But holding hands. Enjoying a bit of touching, innocent touching, that could still be permitted. Smiling, enjoying the moment. And the fields, rolling on forever into the horizon where the sun was starting to fade. Where anything was possible now.

“When will be a good date…I’m just worried what…about what people will think of…”

“How could anyone think that?”

“I was Jocelyn’s maid not long ago…” you reminded him.

The air soured from her name and the memory.

“We will think of a date…”

“We can’t wait too long. The company might want to send me away to get married. I…I’ve heard of it happening,” you added.

He pulled you into a slight hug, “it will be okay…it all will be.”

He scooped you up and placed you back on the horse, passing the fields and woods. Once you rode into town, you felt you could sprout wings. Yet to your surprise, he passed by where you lived, heading straight to the Governor’s house.

“Governor Yeardley!” he called out, the cheeriness in his voice could not be contained.

To your surprise, he held onto your waist as he helped you off and you were giddy at the feeling of his hands on you in public.

The governor walked out the door. Nearby you heard a gasp and your head looked to your left. Mercy walk by with a small bucket of water. She seemed as healthy as before, hardly a sign of poisoning.

Samuel held onto your hand. He raised it up pridefully as in a dance.

“Master, master…what’s going on! What is she-oh goodness, I’m so sorry, governor…” Mercy began, her white-capped head turning into a polite curtsy.

He raised his hand with a kind smile, “no, child, you’re alright…”

“Governor, I would like to ask for your consent and your blessing to marry this woman,” Samuel announced, gesturing to you.

“Marry!” Mercy blurted, eyes large.

Governor Yeardley’s eyes squinted as he looked at you. Part of you shied away, hiding a little behind his arms. Maybe he noticed your apron versus the richness of Samuel’s cloak and came to conclusions.

“Yes, may I, Governor?” he repeated.

“Do you have 150 pounds of tobacco for her?” he asked, arms crossing.

“I do.”

“And has she consented? I can’t allow one of the maids to marry a man against her will,” he said.

You stepped forward bravely.

“I…I have,” You replied.

“Then I don’t see why not! When will the wedding be?”

Both of you sighed out, looking at each other, grinning wide in relief.

“I think…next Wednesday I believe. Not too soon to prepare, but not too late for the company,” you said. “Is that alright?”

“It is fine by me,” Samuel responded. He almost seemed to glow with joy.

Governor Yeardley nodded.

“Alright, Master Castell- bring your check and promise the company representative and you will be clear that this maid is purchased for your hand,” He informed.

Heart fluttering, you threw in another word.

“When’s the latest it can be brought?” you asked.

“After the wedding. After that and your fiancée will be in debt,” he informed.

Fiancée. You looked at him again, the word so new and pouring in your mind still. Fiancée. Fiancée. He is my fiancée! You thought.

“It will be that morning, then. Can it?” Samuel asked.

“Then, that morning, Y/N, I will write a check to the company, if that is what you would like.”

“It is,” you informed.

“Well then, Master Castell- come in and have a quick drink with me to celebrate!” Governor Yeardley praised, his hand going over his shoulder and patting it.

“I’ll be out soon, stay here with Mercy,” he promised.

As the men chatted inside. Mercy went up to you, setting her bucket down.

“You’re marrying the master! But…what of Mistress Woodbyrg? He can’t keep two wives!” she commented.

“She’s…she’s no longer engaged. He broke it off with her…” you told her.

Fists tightening, you hoped maybe one day, she would know the truth. But not now.

“Oh but a wedding! A wedding! All that work to be done!”

She began pacing, counting all the chores on her fingers, but her smile still present.

“All the cooking, ribbons to tie-and lots of cleaning too, but there will be cakes! And-and the ladies toss flowers! I’ll need to pick some flowers. And maybe there will be some music! And there’s clothes and such to be picked but…”

“Mercy, I can help you, if you’d like!” you suggested, leaning forward. Yet she almost backed away from you, a little surprised at the closeness.

She stopped her excited monologue to gaze at you.

“I’ll have another mistress. I remember when…when you were kind to me that day. And when you told me you were a servant for the mistress…and now she’s out and you’re my mistress!” she gasped

“Yes. I…I can’t believe it either…I’ve never had a servant either…” you confessed awkwardly. Mercy kept blinking and you felt her eyes look around and all over you.

“I just hope I can live up to your standards of a mistress, Mercy…”

“You’re not the one to be afraid, Y/N, Miss, oh! I don’t even know what to call you now!”

The door clicked open and the men were out, Samuel turned to you and took both of your hands smiling.

“Mercy, I see you’ve met your new mistress…” he started.

“But what of Miss Woodbyrg? Would it not break her heart, sir, if I may be bold?” she asked.

He showed no reaction, his body only stiffened.

“While you were sick, I called it off.”

“Why? Pardon my questioning?”

“Because…because we were not fit to be together, I learned. And she did not want to marry me. I decided to spare us from pain,” He told flatly.

He walked over, placing both hands on your shoulders fondly, softly.

“Y/N is a kind-hearted lady and you will not find anyone better. You’ve met before. You know what she is like. Since she is going to be my wife, from now on you are to watch her…and guard her every bit like your old mistress, can you?” he ordered.

“I… I can,” Mercy answered, she bobbled her head up and down in a rush.

He offered you his arm and boldly he kissed your cheek. Despite the slight flush of embarrassment, you were excited to be so affectionate with him in front of people.

“It will be here sooner than we think…I’m thrilled.” He cheered, walking over to his house.

A few dogs and pigs trotted by. There was smoke from some home fires inside and you heard the clang of James work nearby. People passed by and you immediately tensed when they saw you.

“I am too,” you muttered.

“I have half an hour before I must go to work. Is there anything you would like, Y/N? We need to...get more used to being a couple.”

A couple. The words rolled off his mouth so easily.

“I…I’m hungry, do you have any food at your house?” you asked.

“Darling, of course” he turned pink at the sound and you held back a small giggle at the word.

He led you to his house and Mercy fixed a small plate for you.

“Wait!” you cried, pushing it away. “Is it…is it safe?”

He took his fork and ate pieces of each food before you dared do it. After a bit of time passed, he nodded at you. Then you began to stuff yourself boldly. It was so long since you could eat without fear.

“Here, have some water…” he offered, passing a cup.

Gulping it down, you almost wanted to cry from how nice it was to eat and not be afraid. Though Mercy gawked at you. What lady ate like this?

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

“Much better,” you answered.

He went to his desk and returned with a few items behind his back. He grinned like a schoolboy.

“I have this for you- a love token! If you don’t mind.” He said. “For the dear flower of my life.”

From his hand was a small silver token- a flower in the shape of a daffodil. You gasped and held it in your hand. It was small and light enough that maybe it could go on your clothes.

“Thank you! It’s wonderful! I feel like a real lady!” you responded.

“You’ve always been a true lady, Y/N,” he answered, seeing it in your hand.

Glancing over to the desk, you saw a wealth of books and paper. More than enough than you would need. Even with the marriage coming up, you had to be sure. And now that you were engaged to him…maybe it would add fuel to Jocelyn’s fire and an even bigger target on your back. Your plan could still not be tossed away.

“And Samuel… may I have some paper? And ink and quills? I want to practice writing more…” you asked.

If you had to risk death for such happiness, you needed to take further steps and not just with Alice. Whatever it took to feel like this again. To know even if you died, you would not die voiceless.