Heya Everyone, sorry it’s late, I was moving things yesterday, forgot to write a blog post and was way too tired to do it once I had finished.
Anyway! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Ramadan Mubarak, and Kwanzaa. Happy holidays! (I’m sorry if I missed anything or said one of the above wrong. Please let me know so I can fix it and do better next time!).
Three years, he had been gone for three years, and that was all he could think about as he stared out one of the small oval windows in the train. His unseeing eyes watching nothing but trees and grass fly by, trying to ignore the way his mind twisted it to run red with blood, lifeless bodies and the smell of gunpowder filling the air.
No, instead he forced himself to think of home, how his brother would both look and act. They had spoken throughout the war, letters penned when there was little to do but wait for orders, but it was not the same as being there. Letters could not hope to bring his brother’s smile to the forefront of his mind, replace the horrors that lay there with the joy his brother never failed to bring. Letters failed to remind him what life back home was like when all he had was faded memories of a time when only his brother looked up to him and blood did not stain his hands.
He had promised the crying young boy that he would always be there, reassuring him as he watched servants prepare his mother’s body for burial, shielding his young brother from the same horror he couldn’t bear to lift his eyes from. The war had forced him to break his promise, leave his brother at his father’s mercy as he did the dutiful thing by his town and family, leaving to go and fight against the north, to protect his home.
At first, he had argued that he was doing it to protect his brother, he cared little for the man he was forced to call father, and was certainly not fighting to protect him. Someone from the family name had to go, it was only fair that it was he who sacrificed everything.
But more than his little brother, he was wondering if she was still there, the woman he had started courting before the war broke out. She had promised to wait for him, years filled with letters of longing, sweet words that couldn’t wash away the pain of being apart, but seemed to help soothe the wound.
She had promised to write to him every day, and it had been a promise she had kept, her letters brief as she failed to find words to say as the days became years, but they were there all the same. A huge pile of paper that he was relentlessly teased about as the mail was delivered. In turn, he kept his replies light, refusing to talk about the horrors of war in favour of asking about home and her. She didn’t need to imagine what hell looked like, not if he could protect her from it.
Even he knew that three years was a long time, already she was past marrying age, and despite not having a male to care for her she knew that as well, waiting for him to return would be foolishness. She was a beautiful young noblewoman, with long auburn hair, that rolled down her back in an untameable mix of waves and loose curls. Eyes of emerald green that always seemed to sparkle like the gemstones that adorned her person. A smile on her full red lips that always seemed to twist up into her eyes whenever they settled on him.
She carried herself with the grace of a noble lady, every eye in the room turning to her no matter what event she stepped into, a smile on her lips as she charmed everyone who dared to cross her path. Tales of her family falling from her lips when prompted, and the reason why she had moved here alone.
He had considered himself lucky when she decided he was worthy of being spoken to. His reputation as a charmer should have scared her off, lest he ruin both her heritage and marriageability with the rumours that had wrapped tightly around him. Yet she had not run, instead seeking him out until he began courting her officially.
She was everything he had longed for since childhood, loving and accepting him no matter what he told her, neither did she believe the lies that fell from his father’s lips as he tried to poison the relationship they were cultivating. He sought comfort in her arms after his father’s beatings. She offered him her home and her heart without question, her servants treating him their master as much as she was their mistress. Never greeting him with a question nor refusal when he showed up on her doorsteps, regardless of whether it was appropriate or not. Even going so far as to treat his little brother like one of her own, looking out for him when he was unable to.
He didn’t truly expect her to be waiting for him, no matter how his heart argued. It had been too long, their relationship too inappropriate to continue once he returned, battered and bruised from the horrors of war. It was too much to ask of her this time.
“Second Lieutenant Sir!” He was shaken from his daze by one of the train’s staff, already standing at salute as he spoke. “This is your stop sir, welcome home.”
“Thank you.” He stood, straightening his uniform and collecting his bag, joining the small line that formed to wish their friends goodbye before stepping off the train and beginning the long trek to the surrounding towns that they all called home.
He didn’t know why he glanced around the station, searching for a familiar face. No one knew he was coming home, it had been a last minute opportunity that he’d jumped at when one of the other men found themselves unable to return to their own home. Still, he spared a moment to look before shouldering his bag and making his way towards the local tavern. He was certain someone there would be heading towards or past his home town that would be more than happy to give a soldier a lift.
“Excuse me, Sir. My name is Christopher Blake, Miss Mikaelson sent me to fetch you.” His path was blocked by a young man, stopping him with his cap in his hand as he spoke. His heart leapt at the name that fell from his lips, Miss Mikaelson, his beloved.
“I am sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else, no one knew I was returning.” He turned slightly, glancing around before returning his attention to the man before him. He did not recognise him, which seemed odd considering that before he had left he knew all of Sofia’s servants by name.
“No sir, My Mistress sent me to wait here until you returned. I have been waiting for nearly three years now. She wished to be certain you would have a way home upon your return as she feared your father would not be so kind. It has been my honour to wait this long for you, and it would have been my honour to wait longer if that is what was required of me. Please, may I take your bag? I have a horse and carriage standing nearby if you are ready to depart, or I am more than happy to wait if there are some business matters you wish to-”
“No need, I am more than ready to return home.” He interrupted, handing over his bag to the young man and motioning for him to lead the way.
“Of course sir.”
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