#shakespearean

you probably had never spent so much time walking backwards and forwards whilst crossing paths with a man you barely new every other second, not like you had today.

but you had agreed to help arthur, and, well, you never broke your promises. not even when they were risky, and not even when you had promised them to your biggest inconvenience.

the biggest inconvenience being mr arthur hill.

it had been hours. hours of walking and thinking in silence, the only sound the occasional heavy exhale after a change in pace.

but then arthur finally broke the silence.

"wait. from what i remember, amongst sailors and nobles of london, there are a lot of stories of this island being haunted, particularly stories of widow's mountain." he spoke, looking up to the mountain instinctively, and so did you without even realising. "the main reason that there aren't many visitors here is because people don't know where it is or don't see a purpose in visiting. but if it was advertised as a genuinely haunted island, tourists may be more likely to visit. and then you make more money by feeding on their fears."

"i'm glad you think of our island so highly to associate us with the supernatural."

he laughed ever so slightly at that. "you know that's not what i meant."

"yeah, i know. but good plan. it might just work. it won't work for long though, only until people actually explore or talk about their not so haunting experiences."

"that's enough time to build this island up whilst preparing a backup plan." he paused. blinked. thought. "well, people don't buy many crops because they believe the island is haunted. so once the island is no longer seen as haunted, well, then you can sell your crops more. and then.. money."

you blinked for a second. surprised that he'd said something that was.. actually intelligent..? "your plan is to convince wealthy idiots to pay money to be frightened?"

"yes. exactly that."

"...that may be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." you quipped, eyebrow raised.

"will it work?" he questioned, slightly worried by your reaction.

"unfortunately."

"i agree. rich people are obsessed with weird places."

"you're rich."

"and i'm still here." he tilted his head ever so slightly to highlight his point, a cocky edge to his voice that made you roll your eyes.

"unfortunately, again."

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

it had been a long month of putting on shows for curious nobles, and you were beginning to grow sick of it.

there was only so many times you could point out widow's mountain and face the annoying question of, "well, can we go up then?" by a man who is definitely far too old to reach even a quarter way to the peak.

obviously, you always said no. you were scared to climb the damn thing yourself. you only climbed it on special occasions and when you were with people you could trust, nobles you didn't know the name of definitely not being apart of that list.

but you'd made a lot of profit, life changing money. it was amazing. at the moment, you were only spending it on food for the island to uphold the haunted reputation. but you were definitely ready to spoil everyone.

counting all the money that had been made on the first few nights was such a special feeling. and then you felt this weird feeling you couldn't describe towards arthur.

love.

but not in a, "oh no, i'm in love." sort of realisation.

no, more of an "oh no, he's competent." sort of realisation.

maybe it wasn't love. maybe it was just.. being impressed? either way, you were definitely surprised, both at the feeling and what arthur was capable of.

and maybe you'd be lying if you said that you didn't watch arthur from your darkened room as he moved around his small shack with the little campfire burning outside.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

a/n: well at least they're friends now.. aha maybe something more

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the shack arthur had managed to make was basic. almost laughable.

he'd asked around for help, and he'd been given about seven dirty looks, before he found you and you albeit reluctantly said you'd help him.

it was just scrap material you'd found around the island, but nights here were warm anyway, and insects were uncommon. there wasn't much he needed shelter from, apart from the occasional rain, so you packed the material on the roof tighter than the rest.

he woke up in his makeshift cot, his back sore and a stick in his back that only encouraged him to sit up to move it. meaning that he was wide awake once he had moved.

the sun had risen, and arthur could see the clear blue through the crack in the wall. and there was a lovely warmth that washed over him despite being shaded. perfect weather to ride the horse that you had donated him 'in case anybody chased him down with spears.' rather considerate of you, if you say so yourself.

he spent around five minutes freshening up, before he bent down and walked out of his shack.

the beautiful sun warmed him up even more, and it was almost like heaven.

and then he looked up, and there was no horse.

he just sighed. where the hell had his horse gone?

he probably shouldn't be asking around for his horse that wasn't even his. the locals hated him enough, but maybe they saw him differently now that he'd stayed the night. seemingly, very few visitors would.

it was midway through asking the third local, as well as the word horse, when the loud click of hooves against the path echoed through the air, grabbing his attention and cutting him off.

he immediately looked up. and of course it was you who had stolen his horse. but every five seconds, or every other shack you passed, you called out the same thing.

"a storm comes!"

again and again until the entire island had heard.

he had never been so unsure whether to be furious or impressed. or perhaps in love. he hadn't even felt this way for his brothers before, despite their impressive tricks and the way that arthur could never not be fond of them.

once you were certain the town was warned, you returned arthur's horse. well, your horse. and he stood in front of his shack as if he was waiting for you.

"you could have asked." he teased, eyebrows raised.

"no. there's a storm in two days. there was no time to ask."

"two days? and you were in such a hurry?"

"you don't understand." you replied. "and i will not try to explain it to you."

"okay. well, i know how you can make more money." he said, still completely casual despite his supposedly big ideas.

"excuse me?"

"i can show you how to grow a few plants that will thrive here. and then you can sell them across the sea. the conditions here are perfect."

"oh."

"oh indeed."

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

his plan had worked. slightly.

the island had made more money, which was ideal for everyone.

but what wasn't ideal for you was the fact that suddenly, everybody on the island was treating arthur like a king. like he had saved them, even though the island was doing just fine before him.

you still despised him. even when everyone told you that you should change your mind about him, that he only wanted to improve the island out of the good of his heart, but you just didn't believe them. not at all.

except, you had a weird sixth sense in your gut that you weren't the only one who still hated arthur. the sort of people that used to lurk in the shadows, the previous masterminds of the smuggling now left with no work, unless they returned to the surface again.

and they were likely waiting for the perfect moment to do that very thing.

whilst you walked along the small farm with arthur, you definitely didn't expect that perfect moment to be right now.

but before you knew it, you were yanking arthur's arm before the arrow that had been fired at him landed square in his chest.

handling fatal wounds definitely wasn't your thing. you were more of a help the child that scraped their knee stop sobbing kind of person.

your hand had slid down to grip his wrist instead, but you still yanked him towards your shack, into a hiding spot.

he tried to speak, and you shushed him for a few seconds, before you nodded, a signal that he was safe to speak.

"thought you were the only one who hated me enough to try and kill me." he joked. you almost laughed. almost.

"half of the island does, actually."

"oh." he tried to figure out if you were joking or not. and then, once it was very obvious that you weren't, he went quiet until he finally muttered a quiet 'thank you.'

and then he had the shortest sleep he had ever had in his life.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

a/n: hi hello this was so fun to write omg i'm writing this before i'm going out drinking and omg i fell asleep at 10pm by accident while sat in the dark listening to my massive playlist that has like 1600 songs in it from over the past few years and i fell asleep listening to the 1975 or something and i woke up and bad guy by billie eilish was playing and it was 2am, and i couldn't get back to sleep soo i haven't had much sleep but oh well.. i have to wake up at like 8am tomorrow so that'll be fun!

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to practically run an island and loving all of the residents was one thing. to accept a visitor with open arms was another.

you tried to avoid the man when you found out that a mr hill had visited, and despite the two days since then, he had not left. which was odd.

visitors were rare. those who chose to stay were one of a kind.

when arthur had heard of the island, well, he had little to no time to think before he was on a boat.

after his return from spain, his mother ensured that he stayed couped up in london for at least a fortnight. so as soon as those fourteen long days ended, he was sailing across the ocean.

it was only around an hour and a half before the boat slowed and the island approached rapidly. he was here.

as soon as he could reach, he climbed out of the boat, ready to stretch his limbs and explore the island. the first man he met was a fisherman.

"ah, mr hill. i heard word of your interest, we assumed you would not follow through. welcome to our island, though."

"thank you, sir. i must ask why this island is so undesirable for visitors..?"

"well, frankly, i am shocked that you're here. well, nobody can find us, we have no island name yet. but also the island is bankrupt, the tennants hate you nobles and the manor is quite frankly crumbling into the sea. i wish you luck."

arthur bit his lip as the man spoke. there was a lot that was wrong here, and surely there was not an easy resolution.

breaking him from his thoughts was you, approaching him with rapid speed. he tried to offer you a polite smile as he noticed your angry frown, hoping to soften whatever blow him or someone else was about to receive.

"you should leave, mr hill."

the polite smile turned ever so slightly into a smirk. "well, i disagree. so good day, miss."

you scoffed as he walked away.

he didn't end up leaving. he probably should have.

instead, he explored the island further. he spent an hour wandering. along the manmade pathways, along the sandy beach made by nature, and all the way to where he next found civilisation close enough to overhear but far away to hide from.

you, and another woman.

"he's gullible. an imbecile, in my opinion."

"so his chances of finding out about the smuggling are..?"

"extremely slim. do not worry. he has about as much sense as the boats themselves."

the pair exchanged a laugh at that, causing arthur to frown ever so slightly.

smuggling. they were smuggling drugs. no wonder arthur hadn't found any other source of income on the island. he hadn't even considered that. how else would they be able to afford food?

but arthur had one thing on his mind. he had to end the smuggling and find a better way for the island to make money. but could he?

surely, if there was an easy way, the residents would have already found one.

he started wandering again, practically pacing along the sand.

"you again." you announced, walking towards the back of him. "i thought you had left already, perhaps i was too hopeful."

"no." he sighed, visibly bracing himself for something. "how is it that your island is so advanced? i notice that there is little to no visible evidence of profit."

"fishing." you replied, far too quickly as if you had prepared yourself for this exact conversation. "the fish in the area are very expensive for those in italy and toward wales."

"and the smuggling?"

"excuse me?"

"the smuggling that you spoke of earlier." when his words only left silence, he spoke again. "is that why you were so desperate for me to leave? you wanted to leave your business uncovered?"

"you tell a soul, and the residents of this island shall drop like flies. that very smuggling feeds us. if you have no empathy, then very well, do what your sick heart must. but i recommend you leave and pretend to forget."

"i want to stop it. i want to work out how this island can profit otherwise and i want to make an island that can survive in far more ethical ways."

"any ideas, then?" you yelled, exasperated at his nerve. "i am telling you, if there were a single alternative for our wrongdoings, then our wrongdoings would be no more. do not arrive on our island and speak of us as if we are imbeciles, we have tried everything. this was never our first choice."

"you called me an imbecile."

"because that is what you are for believing in us."

he didn't reply. he just smiled ever so slightly, causing your eyebrows to furrow in annoyance.

he enjoyed your temper, your boldness. it was so rare in london to find a woman who would insult a man with such fire and no hesitation whatsoever.

"what?" you questioned after five seconds of that stupid smile.

"it's wonderful to meet you, miss..?"

"miss reader." you replied hesitantly. still annoyed, yet polite in a way that didn't match your previous volume.

and then you both left it at that.

you returned to your small shack that you shared with a few other island residents.

all while arthur stayed on the beach.

he just paced again and again even when people began to stare. why was the odd man that arrived recently pacing along the beach so menancingly?

perhaps out of kindness, or even out of fear, they just left him to it.

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

a/n: god bless my thoughts at midnight, this might become my favourite series of the whole au. so long as i actually write this exactly how i visioned it at 2am

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chris had always been very observant. it came to him naturally while he was trying to perfect the arts of being a perfect husband at just age nine.

so it was only three hours of waking up from his sleep, or lack of considering he stayed very awake, that he noticed that you were acting ever so slightly differently to usual.

your door had not opened once since he had left his own room, and chris had found you nowhere in the house, so he could tell that you were hiding away.

it was approaching noon, and by now you would have visited your boys at least four times to check that they were feeling well - you were always fussy like that - but you hadn't.

the only company the boys had today were one anothers, their governesses, and also chris popping his head round the door once or twice to check for their mother, offering them forced smiles once the boys caught him.

you laid in your bed, that funny feeling of guilt that you knew you didn't deserve to feel pooling in your stomach as the blankets layered on top of your body.

you had no appetite, no desire to sleep despite being so exhausted.

you had truly believed that your husband was as faithful as you had. truly questioned just how he could have caught the plague when he barely ever left the house.

but maybe that could describe the way he was more tired than he should have been during the day. you pinned it to bad sleep rather than him waking up in the night because he loved another.

perhaps he deserved to die. perhaps you were cruel for thinking such a thing, for adultery did not equate to death. just measly public humilation. something that, in your opinion, was not punishment enough.

perhaps your reaction to this entire situation was futile. lingering in your chamber would not make your husband faithful and alive, it would make you feel worse.

you just needed a stroll in the garden. with the tulips and roses that you had grown yourself.

and yet you stayed in your bed for longer than you had imagined.

it did not take chris as long to pack as he would have imagined. he had shoved everything with such rapid speed that the clouds had barely moved, the majority of the ones he noticed before he began still lingering.

he tried not to feel much pain as he approached the front door. he believed that he had destroyed your household, and therefore he had no right to be here.

and then he heard small footsteps. and then the small voice of oliver.

"will you come back..?"

the sentimental words caused chris to pause for a moment. he didn't even have time to reply before oliver continued.

"i'm scared for our mother. she isn't well, mr dixon.."

and then chris knew he'd have to stay. just one more day.

the garden was appealing to him, filled to the brim with roses and tulips that you mentioned growing yourself.

the warm sun beamed against his back, such a beautiful feeling after being couped up in a house that was not his own due to a rainstorm which prolonged his stay.

if he had been able to leave, you could have stayed ignorant to your husband's wrongdoings.

but, you would have found out eventually, and then who would be there when you did? your sons? how cruel.

at least you knew that chris was there. someone would understand you if you broke down into tears.

and what a coincidence it was that as he began to slow whilst approaching a particularly beautiful bed of white roses, you walked out into the gardens too, your procrastination of leaving your bed finally halting.

"chris!" you called out as you sped up to approach him, bunching up your skirts so they would not drag along the muddy floor.

he turned to face you, expression that of a worried man, but he didn't usher you with words when you stopped in front of him and let out a heavy breath. he just waited until you spoke again.

"you brought me pain, but not dishonour. never dishonour, not like my late husband did. i think i have lived enough years upon falsehood."

the silence that followed was awkward and heavy, the kind where neither person knew what to say after something significant and heartwarming had been said.

knowing he would have nothing to say, you spoke again.

"stay."

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

a year had passed.

oliver still loved chris. henry had changed his mind on him. and it wasn't long after chris proposed to you that they stopped calling him mr dixon and instead just chris.

your husband was gone, but chris was now apart of your family.

and for your two month wedding anniversary, well, a family portrait was a no brainer. despite the fact that the twins were not as insistent upon it as you and chris.

"i'm bored." henry whined, sick of standing in the same place for so long.

"i can always tell the painter to make oliver look far cooler than you do." chris replied sarcastically, causing oliver to giggle slightly.

"yea, do that!" oliver said obnoxiously loudly despite your forced (not that anybody was disappointed though) proximity.

henry couldn't fight a little smile at chris' comment. "fiiine."

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

you and chris stared up at the large portrait hanging above your fireplace.

"it's not very accurate." he began, fighting a smirk. "and the hands make us all look like dolls. but it's nice. we look like a right little family."

"we are family, chris."

"mm, right. i keep forgetting we're married, somehow. it's too good to be true."

you smiled at that. "what a shame that the skull in the back isn't cracked or something. it has more respect than it deserves in this portrait."

"we can always have another done. if you wanted."

"our boys would not be impressed."

he didn't even flinch at the way you used 'ours' so casually. the month and a bit that you had been married had changed so much in his life.

"we can just give the artist the portrait, tell them to remake it and draw the skull being stepped on or something."

"mm. good plan."

"thank you. i'll get on that for you."

── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──

a/n: awe i can't believe this little series is already over! it was actually so much fun to write, and oliver being so sweet just made me cry while writing it.. and i felt so happy writing henry and chris actually getting along well because he 10000 percent has that effect on people that no matter what, they eventually like him no matter what. i hope you guys enjoyed the series too!

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