The Inevitable Saxon Fic
Jun. 25th, 2007 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fangrrl_squeesWarning: sillyfic ahead. By silly I mean in no ways uplifting or insightful rather than silly and goofy. Well, it is silly, I suppose, technically.
And, amazingly enough, entirely slash-free. It's about Lucy and Saxon, a little bit of prequel foolishness. Unbeta'd, so read at your own risk.
***
"But he was so good to my father…"
A portrait of a woman with Lucy’s eyes stared at Saxon from across the room, painted in that disconcerting manner so that her gaze seemed to follow the viewer wherever they were. That’s going to be the first thing to go, he decided.
Beside him, Lucy sat quietly, as still and calm as her mother’s picture. Only the restless drumming of her fingers suggested that she felt anything but total peace. Abruptly, Saxon grabbed her hand with both of his. “Please,” he whispered. “You know how I hate it when you fidget.”
Lucy blushed slightly and nodded, looking apologetic. "I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know where I picked the habit up."
Saxon bit his tongue. I do, and I wish you hadn’t. Still, perhaps he could convince himself to accept it as a necessary counterpoint to Lucy’s many excellent qualities.
Looking around, Saxon realized that he rather liked the Smith family home, in general, with its Norman foundations firmly rooted in history and the omnipresent smell of dust and the occasional mouse. The house was, relatively speaking, a constant fixture in a changing world and, given recent events, stability was increasingly important to Saxon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t keen on the current master in residence, Lord Cole of Tarminster – Lucy’s father and another long-lived fixture, it seemed.
Master in residence. Saxon smiled at the thought. Sometimes he just couldn’t resist a bad joke.
"Let’s hear you make a case for yourself, then." This imperative would have been more impressive had it not been wheezed out by a withered shell of a man – emaciated and grey. He barely looked strong enough to bear the weight of the blankets on his bed. "What makes you think you’re good enough for my daughter?"
Saxon kept control of his expression. Lucy wasn’t kidding about her father being a 19th century throwback. "I sometimes wonder that, myself." He smiled disarmingly. “But we’re so well-suited to each other, though, that I think that marriage is inevitable." Whether or not we get the blessing Lucy wants, old man.
"A very pat little answer." Cole regarded his potential son-in-law suspiciously. "I’ve chased off more than one gold-digger before, you know." He warned.
Lucy sighed. "Harry’s got more money than you do, Father. He’s hardly a gold-digger. And before you ask, he doesn’t give a fig about the title, either."
That, if anything, worried Lucy’s father any more. "So what do you see in her, then?" Lucy looked shocked, but he waved it off with a feeble gesture of irritation. "I’m sorry, dear, but you’re not the brightest of girls and I don’t want to see you get hurt by some…potential wastrel."
Saxon believed that jumped up new-money was probably more the phrase that Lord Cole had in mind but, of course, good manners would forbid anything that direct. He pushed his irritation aside and kept his mind on the matter at hand.
"She’s peaceful." Saxon said, stroking Lucy’s cheek. "She..." his voice trailed away. "She carries a sort of calming influence with her, no matter how complicated things might be. A sort of living respite from the chaos of my daily life, if you will..."
Saxon shook himself slightly, realizing that he might have said too much. "I suppose you could say that she makes me a better man, just by being near me." And that was, in its way, the truth. It had been decades since he’d known anything resembling peace.
Lucy smiled like the sun coming up, and held Saxon’s hand a little more tightly. "And Harry is a good man," she insisted. "He really is. Why, his very first thought about meeting you was to worry about the strain..." Lucy looked at the myriad medical equipment cluttering what was once the dining hall of Tarminster House. Privately, Saxon thought most of the hardware was useless, but that didn’t matter.
"Lucy explained it to me. Muscular dystrophy, isn’t it?" At this point, Saxon didn’t care if the sympathy rang false. Lord Cole nodded briefly, his expression closing down. He didn’t like to be reminded of his weakness. "Lucy worries about you all of the time." A bit of filial piety never goes amiss, he thought.
Lucy nodded, quick to agree, and Saxon wondered how stupid her father was, to not see that gleam in her eye.
"We’ll look after you," Saxon continued. "In fact, Lucy made me promise as much, as a condition of the engagement."
"That’s something, I suppose." Cole grumbled. He looked at his daughter, and how she barely had eyes for her father at this point. "I don’t think I have much choice," he conceded. "Her mother always said I’d have to let her go, someday."
Saxon sighed in relief, even as Lucy jumped up to – carefully – kiss her father atop his balding head. Getting his approval had meant a lot to her, and Saxon had difficulty refusing Lucy anything.
"Yes, we all have to let go, don’t we?" Cole was startled by the sudden contempt in Saxon’s voice. "But I made Lucy a promise, and as her happiness is vital to my own..."
With that sweet smile that could almost stop Saxon’s hearts, Lucy handed him a pillow taken from a nearby pile of clean linen. "You’re so good to me, darling." She declared in exactly the same tone she used when he brought her breakfast in bed.
It wasn’t difficult, although Saxon was surprised at how noisy it was. Surely suffocation would be a quiet activity? He thought about this as he kept the pillow on top of Cole’s face. He supposed that the noise – the external noise, at least - was incidental and inevitable. Even a man in Cole’s fragile state was going to struggle.
He waited several minutes, wanting to be sure, wanting to be calm before he faced Lucy again. She touched the back of his neck affectionately, and he smiled.
"And you’re sure the nurse will take the fall for this?" she asked, as casually as if assigning the blame for a broken vase.
"Absolutely love, I can guarantee it." Saxon turned his back on the body in the bed. Lucy was a much nicer sight. He took her in his arms and kissed her cheek. "Although I must admit, I don’t know why you couldn’t have done this yourself. It’s not like you blue-bloods risk much in the way of accountability - even in this day and age."
Lucy seemed surprised by his words. "Sweetheart, he was my own flesh and blood. There are some things, a well-bred girl just doesn’t do."
He laughed. "Is that so? You’d better tell me what other things I shouldn’t expect from well-bred girls."
She kissed him, her eyes bright." Don’t worry. There’s not many of them..."
And, amazingly enough, entirely slash-free. It's about Lucy and Saxon, a little bit of prequel foolishness. Unbeta'd, so read at your own risk.
***
"But he was so good to my father…"
A portrait of a woman with Lucy’s eyes stared at Saxon from across the room, painted in that disconcerting manner so that her gaze seemed to follow the viewer wherever they were. That’s going to be the first thing to go, he decided.
Beside him, Lucy sat quietly, as still and calm as her mother’s picture. Only the restless drumming of her fingers suggested that she felt anything but total peace. Abruptly, Saxon grabbed her hand with both of his. “Please,” he whispered. “You know how I hate it when you fidget.”
Lucy blushed slightly and nodded, looking apologetic. "I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t know where I picked the habit up."
Saxon bit his tongue. I do, and I wish you hadn’t. Still, perhaps he could convince himself to accept it as a necessary counterpoint to Lucy’s many excellent qualities.
Looking around, Saxon realized that he rather liked the Smith family home, in general, with its Norman foundations firmly rooted in history and the omnipresent smell of dust and the occasional mouse. The house was, relatively speaking, a constant fixture in a changing world and, given recent events, stability was increasingly important to Saxon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t keen on the current master in residence, Lord Cole of Tarminster – Lucy’s father and another long-lived fixture, it seemed.
Master in residence. Saxon smiled at the thought. Sometimes he just couldn’t resist a bad joke.
"Let’s hear you make a case for yourself, then." This imperative would have been more impressive had it not been wheezed out by a withered shell of a man – emaciated and grey. He barely looked strong enough to bear the weight of the blankets on his bed. "What makes you think you’re good enough for my daughter?"
Saxon kept control of his expression. Lucy wasn’t kidding about her father being a 19th century throwback. "I sometimes wonder that, myself." He smiled disarmingly. “But we’re so well-suited to each other, though, that I think that marriage is inevitable." Whether or not we get the blessing Lucy wants, old man.
"A very pat little answer." Cole regarded his potential son-in-law suspiciously. "I’ve chased off more than one gold-digger before, you know." He warned.
Lucy sighed. "Harry’s got more money than you do, Father. He’s hardly a gold-digger. And before you ask, he doesn’t give a fig about the title, either."
That, if anything, worried Lucy’s father any more. "So what do you see in her, then?" Lucy looked shocked, but he waved it off with a feeble gesture of irritation. "I’m sorry, dear, but you’re not the brightest of girls and I don’t want to see you get hurt by some…potential wastrel."
Saxon believed that jumped up new-money was probably more the phrase that Lord Cole had in mind but, of course, good manners would forbid anything that direct. He pushed his irritation aside and kept his mind on the matter at hand.
"She’s peaceful." Saxon said, stroking Lucy’s cheek. "She..." his voice trailed away. "She carries a sort of calming influence with her, no matter how complicated things might be. A sort of living respite from the chaos of my daily life, if you will..."
Saxon shook himself slightly, realizing that he might have said too much. "I suppose you could say that she makes me a better man, just by being near me." And that was, in its way, the truth. It had been decades since he’d known anything resembling peace.
Lucy smiled like the sun coming up, and held Saxon’s hand a little more tightly. "And Harry is a good man," she insisted. "He really is. Why, his very first thought about meeting you was to worry about the strain..." Lucy looked at the myriad medical equipment cluttering what was once the dining hall of Tarminster House. Privately, Saxon thought most of the hardware was useless, but that didn’t matter.
"Lucy explained it to me. Muscular dystrophy, isn’t it?" At this point, Saxon didn’t care if the sympathy rang false. Lord Cole nodded briefly, his expression closing down. He didn’t like to be reminded of his weakness. "Lucy worries about you all of the time." A bit of filial piety never goes amiss, he thought.
Lucy nodded, quick to agree, and Saxon wondered how stupid her father was, to not see that gleam in her eye.
"We’ll look after you," Saxon continued. "In fact, Lucy made me promise as much, as a condition of the engagement."
"That’s something, I suppose." Cole grumbled. He looked at his daughter, and how she barely had eyes for her father at this point. "I don’t think I have much choice," he conceded. "Her mother always said I’d have to let her go, someday."
Saxon sighed in relief, even as Lucy jumped up to – carefully – kiss her father atop his balding head. Getting his approval had meant a lot to her, and Saxon had difficulty refusing Lucy anything.
"Yes, we all have to let go, don’t we?" Cole was startled by the sudden contempt in Saxon’s voice. "But I made Lucy a promise, and as her happiness is vital to my own..."
With that sweet smile that could almost stop Saxon’s hearts, Lucy handed him a pillow taken from a nearby pile of clean linen. "You’re so good to me, darling." She declared in exactly the same tone she used when he brought her breakfast in bed.
It wasn’t difficult, although Saxon was surprised at how noisy it was. Surely suffocation would be a quiet activity? He thought about this as he kept the pillow on top of Cole’s face. He supposed that the noise – the external noise, at least - was incidental and inevitable. Even a man in Cole’s fragile state was going to struggle.
He waited several minutes, wanting to be sure, wanting to be calm before he faced Lucy again. She touched the back of his neck affectionately, and he smiled.
"And you’re sure the nurse will take the fall for this?" she asked, as casually as if assigning the blame for a broken vase.
"Absolutely love, I can guarantee it." Saxon turned his back on the body in the bed. Lucy was a much nicer sight. He took her in his arms and kissed her cheek. "Although I must admit, I don’t know why you couldn’t have done this yourself. It’s not like you blue-bloods risk much in the way of accountability - even in this day and age."
Lucy seemed surprised by his words. "Sweetheart, he was my own flesh and blood. There are some things, a well-bred girl just doesn’t do."
He laughed. "Is that so? You’d better tell me what other things I shouldn’t expect from well-bred girls."
She kissed him, her eyes bright." Don’t worry. There’s not many of them..."
