The Newest Crop

Spring had carried with it on the back of a light breeze a new freshness that was absent in every other season. The wind brushed up against the trees, caressing them into the release of the pollen spores that had gotten trapped in the bracken. Honeybees left their hives to chase the spores in their dozens, the production of honey dependent on the transfer of plant goods; the precarious pleasure of their Queen driving them on to do well, to do better. Blooms that had hidden dormant in the ground, fearful of winter, had begun to poke their heads through the warming earth in search of the sunlight and for once in what must have felt like eternity, the golden rays began to dance down from the bright skies, helping along everything that wished to evolve into unrivalled bounties in the coming months.

Already, in the grounds of Rookwood Manor, nature was alive with the promise that the sunshine brought to it. Flowers had sprung up in all manners of colour, design and size seemingly overnight and the boxes in which they grew were suddenly swollen and abundant, attracting butterflies and the honeybees as well as wandering deer and curious badgers that did not realise they disliked pollen until it decorated their snout. The animals pried and played with an abandon about them that was oddly endearing. Such freedom made Athena’s heart feel light and her mood optimistic for what was to come; she could only hope that the gentle, whistling breeze and flirtatious sunshine that all about basked in could improve the mood of her family members also.

In Augustus’ solar especially there was a mood that was stark in contrast with the bright playfulness of the world beyond the sash windows. Of course time had healed much of the suffering that was once felt most palpably within those walls but still the dejection remained and no amount of bright blooms or sweet seasonal fruits could really head that off and chase it away. The loss of Cordelia was still felt and though the situation had certainly gotten better for all of them, there was still an absence that had yet to be filled, doubled painfully by the business that kept Augustus away from the manor and in the hotels of Europe. In time though, Athena had grown confident that something would draw him home, if it was only for the familiarity of warm sheets and his fresh-faced children; granted, most likely it would be his office chair and a decanter of Absinthe.

That morning, Athena had risen somewhat earlier than her sons would normally demand. That time allowed her to indulge in herself – a rare occurrence. She had eased herself into the bathtub in the adjoining bathroom to her and Kendall’s room and had allowed herself to enjoy the warmth that the water provided her with. She washed her hair with the oily shampoos that she’d bought while out the other day and delighted as she dried it afterwards at the way it calmed her abundantly curly hair. She scrubbed her skin free of the muck and the grease that seemed to flock to her and she only ceased when her skin was red raw and smarting. Once she was sure she was thoroughly clean, she left the bath and stepped out onto the fluffy rug that acted as a buffer zone between slick feet and slippery tiles. After quickly drying herself off and applying cream to sore areas of skin, particularly beneath her breasts, she dressed in something that truly made her appear younger than the fast approaching, ripe old age of twenty.

Athena checked briefly on her sleeping husband when she left the bathroom and smiled, pleased to find that he was still as peaceful as he had been when she had woken up. After pressing a kiss into his hair, Athena slid out of their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. She then padded down the hall into the nursery where she found her gurgling, weary boys kicking and playing with the brightly coloured stuffed animals that overlooked them in their slumber. Athena’s heart rose at the sight of them and leaned over the first crib to scoop Augustus up and into her arms. The boy reached out immediately for her hair and grabbed a fistful, giving Athena a winning smile as she looked at him reproachfully. The boy gave a little squeal and released her hair, reaching instead for her face and successfully batting her on the nose.

“Oh, Gus!” Athena wrinkled her nose and the boy squealed again, infinitely pleased with his self. Athena laughed and extended her arms, bringing them up overhead and twirling a little so the boy felt feather-light, as though he were flying. “You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you?” Athena lowered her arms and nipped Gussy’s nose with a click of her teeth. The baby laughed, flailing his arms and making a grab for her hair again. Athena shrunk back, holding him out at arm’s length again and he settled for bringing his face down on her watch as though it was a sensible thing to try and bite with his fledgling teeth that should not, by any rights, have been coming through at such an early stage. The baby continued to nom on her wrist with a horrendous amount of saliva but Athena knew to grin and bear it, busying herself instead with scooping up Archibald whose face had screwed up and turned a bright shade of red; clearly jealous that his brother had captured his mother’s attention.

“Hello, boy.” Athena murmured, kissing Archie’s cheek as he grabbed for her hair, giving it a tug that spoke volumes about his displeasure at her favouritism. She smiled into his soft skin and kissed his temple before making her way over to the rocking chair that her grandfather had made for her. Odysseus had put more effort than a wizard perhaps should have but as Athena sat down in it she was infinitely grateful that he had. She wriggled out of the dungarees with some difficulty but managed to tug her shirt upwards with more ease. The boys knew perhaps better than she did the importance of regular meals and as if on cue their little bellies rumbled and their mouths opened, their eyes closed in laziness, searching for the source of nourishment that they knew their mother was waiting to offer them.

Athena left her sleeping boys once they’d had their fill but had to take a detour back to her room to change her shirt, much to her dismay. Once dressed though, Athena made her way downstairs and towards the smells that had first woken her that morning. In the kitchens she found the House Elves bustling about making all sorts of things – not only for breakfast but also by the looks of it they were preparing a myriad of desserts for dinner that evening and making sure that meat was marinating in large bowls and goodness only knows what else. It seemed as though the Rookwood solars were demanding quite elaborate meals and when Athena happened upon Augustus’ House Elves she could not help but smirk at the way the Elves appeared dejected and left out. She encouraged them to set about baking in the hope that it would keep them busy and Athena knew it was ridiculous; and a chuckle from the dining table communicated that to her.

Turning, Athena was surprised to set eyes on her grandfather-in-law who wore an oddly jovial and relaxed expression on his face for one who was usually the miserable patriarch of the Rookwood household. Athena smiled a little, her cheeks rising with heat as she realised exactly how she looked – fresh-faced, admittedly, but already slightly rundown and flushed of cheeks with a weariness about her that was unbecoming of a Pureblood woman; she was also wearing dungarees. She clawed her fingers through her hair, intent, suddenly, on tearing out the knots that her babies had made. Raghnall said nothing with regards to her sudden worries and merely gestured for her to join him, going so far as to put down the newspaper he’d been holding in his hands.

It was no invitation, the gesture, and Athena was no one to turn it down. She made to move but paused, feeling a House Elf tug at the shorts of her dungarees. She looked down and smiled when she saw the little creature holding a dozen or so packets of seeds for her to take. Athena thanked the Elf quietly and took the seeds, tucking them into the front pocket that was studded in denim on the front of her clothes. She left the main kitchen area then and moved into the breakfast room, sitting down a few seats from Raghnall so as to remain a cautious distance but also to show a certain happiness to talk with the man. At first he made no move to do so and both busied themselves with filling their plates from the dishes that harboured every food imaginable that was appropriate to eat at breakfast. Soon enough though, discussion began over scrambled eggs and coffee and Athena was glad to find little of the animosity that once epitomised her relationship with Raghnall. It seemed as if the relationships he’d been coveting with his great-grandsons were softening him a little; or at least, softening him towards their mother.

With sated bellies the pair parted as movement in the upper floors promised a disturbance to their easy conversation. Athena left Raghnall with a cheeky reproach, encouraging him not to work too hard and Raghnall returned it with good humour, even going as far to give her a tip with regards to carrots and the importance of fleecing them so as to not end up with carrot fly buzzing about, making life difficult. So, while Raghnall ascended the stairs up into the safety of his office, Athena laced up her boots and sorted out some lunch for herself before grabbing her tool box and leaving the house, bound for the allotment that she’d finally begun to truly get up and running.

It had been an idea that Athena had posed to Raghnall just after Cordelia had died and things had really begun to go down the figurative pan. She’d begun to grow impatient with herself but held an underlying nervousness that she too would be lost in childbirth. In hindsight perhaps it had been utterly foolish of her to have thought so but at the time, with the horrific way Cordelia had died and with only one child to carry, Athena had felt it just and correct to fear; though she had no muted such worries to Kendall. She’d asked for something to do and somewhere to go while otherwise she should have been on bed-rest. Raghnall had allowed her a nook of the expansive gardens to play with which was in truth quite a bit of land flanked by a number of barren flower beds that by April-time had sprung into life. It was there in the weary winter sunshine that Athena spent the remaining leisure time she had before the birth of her boys and now it was where she continued to spend as much time as possible throughout the day.

That morning it had been impossible to keep away and as Athena diverted from the gravel path she picked up her place, dancing lithely between flower beds over the lush green grass towards the fertile paddock of land that was hers alone to marvel at and change and grow glorious bounties upon. She put down her tool box once she arrived and took a moment to look over the winter vegetables that Ira had helped her plant while she’d still been carrying the boys. Certainly, they’d flourished and she was sure that within a few more days she’d have a couple of cabbages for the dinner table that the House Elves would be keen to put into a stew or something of the like.

Moving to the shed, Athena broke open the lock and spread the doors open wide, hooking them up to the latches screwed onto the sides in order to keep them in place. She took a few plastic trays out from inside and put them under her arm so she could use both hands to grab a bag of soil and from there she dragged the soil as best she could over to the polytunnel that Raghnall had allowed her to put up onsite. Once inside, Athena dropped the soil onto the ground and put the trays on the work bench she’d put inside. Then, trowel in hand, Athena began to fill the trays with soil and started to sow all of the seeds that needed to be planted in order for her to have a good summer crop yield.

There, in her element, Athena was at her most content. Out in the open air she could finally relax and if she were to be honest, she was at her happiest then in those moments; happier than she had been for months.

Kendall smiled, even in the unknown, even in his sleep. A familiar scent overpowered the senselessness of his dream, felt a pressure over him, but was too comfortable to awake; or rather, to move – for fear that to alter the course of a slight detail is to lose a good thing forever. Yet, it went away. Still, he felt no utter loss. Instead, he groped about, between sleep and consciousness, for something- anything that can bring the smell back. He found it as he pressed his nose against the folds of fabric and feathers that belonged to the side where Athena would typically be found at. The smile spread over his face again, as he brought her pillow against his nose, and wrapped his face with the very essence of her presence left behind. There was his world. There was his home.

Yet, even as he was at peace, in sleep, the world could not leave him alone. Someone had left the window slightly ajar, and the first of Spring sneaked into the leftover warmth in the room, halved by the missing presence of one who hadn’t belong, but who owned the place as soon as she stepped in. Still, there was no utter loss. The first of Spring brought with it its infectious awakening, and the aggressive refreshing did battle with the death of the house, in the solar of one Augustus Rookwood. With it, Kendall Rookwood was found, body nearly as pale as the sheets, but which still kept the rigours of his teenage years. From a distance, the man looked barely older than when he first left Hogwarts. A rosy tint stained his cheeks, as if he blushed in his sleep. Yet, there was a definition between his eyebrows that would have been foreign years ago. With it, the face spoke of age, experiences, and loss. Still, the happiness was retained in the boyish vulnerability of his sleeping visage.

Spring found Kendall. And, after a struggle with the sleep dragon, the man turned over and stretched his arms as far, and as wide, as he could. The sheets almost melted into his touch, but even after groping around again, he could not find a sleeping wife to engulf in between the sheets. Grunting in disapproval, he threw the pillow from off his face, and stretched noisily. Kendall opened his eyes, frowned, and began to scan the room in his groggy state of mind. Sighing in resignation, he reached again for the pillow and brought it upon his face. Kendall took a deep breath, smiled a little at the overwhelming scent of Athena, and sighed. He stayed like this, feeling hidden from the world behind the darkness of the pillow. Yet, he was not perfectly satisfied.

Kendall adjusted his jumper as he peeked out from behind the door, feeling the fabric rub pleasantly against his shoulders. The house was quiet, or so it seemed, from the emptiness of the corridor from beyond his room, and the silence that penetrated it. Satisfied, he stepped out and made his way almost instinctively towards where he thought he would find her. There was only one person he desired to see. Time was not right, and he wasn’t ready to see anyone else. Unfortunately, Kendall could not walk more than a few steps before the silence was tackled by rushing House Elves. Fortunately, one brought only news of where Mistress Kendall was to be found. Kendall had been amused at the address, and decided against correction. After all, wasn’t there already too many Rookwoods at the manor?

As soon as Kendall stepped outside, he took a deep breath of the first of Spring, and watched the sky for migrating birds. Quickly, he picked up the familiar sound of panting, and wasted no time turning to the source of it. Fianna. The pant turned into a whimpering, and before he could react to it, Kendall felt the warmth that spread from the German Shepherd’s body against his shin. He reached to return the affection, only to see that Fianna had turned to lay on his back, raising his legs in the air, as if demanding to have his belly rubs. Kendall smirked, obliged, then stood up again. He needed Athena. Fianna, puzzled at the abrupt end to a pleasant sensation, whimpered, but stood up and followed after the man.

“And I thought the kitchen was the sexiest place to find my woman at,” he smirked. Fianna, upon seeing Athena, made his way excitedly to her. Finding her boots(?), he began to lick hungrily at it. Raising an eyebrow as he watched the dog, Kendall chuckled, musing at the possibility of a similar hunger that he felt for her, or so it seemed. Certainly, though, he was not going to go for her boots.

“Lucky me, to be proven so wrong.” Gently, he came to Athena from behind, held her waist, brought her closer to him, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“Have I ever told you how sexy I find my women, with a trowel in hand?” Then, quickly, not wanting to face the prospect of any retort, he added. “My woman.” Fianna, eager at the prospect of spending time with both Kendall and Athena, stood silently near them and watched, panting, with his tail wagging faster than he it had the entire morning.

The birds were excitable in the skies, darting about in the air as they searched for lovers anew, old partners and treasured companions. Many swept down onto the verdant blades that lay, neatly trimmed, fanning out from beneath the Rookwood manor house, and picked apart the grass in search of twigs and bits of crunched leaf for nests; even a few worms if they were particularly lucky. A few low flying little sparrows even passed through the polytunnel, something that delighted Athena to no end. They were all harmless enough and their songs were beautiful to listen to as she worked, growing increasingly grubby as she progressed with moving germinated plants into larger pots and sowing the seeds she’d brought with her. It was mucky business but it made the shower afterwards even better.

At the sound of a familiar bark, Athena looked up from her work, her fingers stalling in the dirt. She craned her neck and smiled at the sight of the German Shepherd bumbling towards her. She took her hands from the trays and clapped them together, brushing off excess dirt before stepping out of the polytunnel to greet her favourite animal companion of all. Fianna had worried Athena’s hawk since they’d gotten the German Shepherd but slowly but surely, Stephano was beginning to trust the dog a little better. Looking up briefly though, Athena thought about taking back such thoughts. The hawk craned itself over the top of the shed, glaring suspiciously down at the dog that was thoroughly enjoying the attention Athena was giving him. Athena did think for the moment that the brooding hawk might be jealous but she remembered quite quickly that the thing was huge for a bird and certainly got more treats than the dog did. He’d be going on a diet soon, if he wasn’t careful.

“Hello my favourite boy,” Athena cooed at the dog, brushing her face into his furry neck and getting a lick for her efforts. She laughed a little and continued rubbing at the dog’s neck before looking up at her husband who looked overwhelmingly smug for a man who had only just gotten out of bed. Athena envied his laziness and had every right to. Her peace-time was during the hours between feeds and before lunchtime; after which she’d be dragged back into the house by Cecilia and Aurelia, desperate for attention that could not be given to them by either parent. It rightly wearied Athena but she’d learnt to deal with it. However, in doing so, that did not mean she had learned to put up with Augustus and Kendall doing sod all. In fact, she was livid with them constantly but had long since given up badgering them. What she had learned in that respect was that it just wasn’t worth it, you couldn’t find interest in blatant disinterest.

Athena jumped a little upon feeling Kendall’s arms snake around her waist but she relaxed against him easily, trying to push away the slight feeling of discomfort. She hadn’t quite shifted the baby weight she’d taken on and though she’d been diligent with applying stretch mark cream to her skin through the pregnancy and afterwards, there were some that were utterly unavoidable, especially on her breasts, and it drove her nutty. She wasn’t entirely confident with herself and though she did still carry herself with that same air of superiority, Athena wasn’t entirely brave enough to really look at herself properly in the mirror or even linger too long about Kendall if she was changing or in the bath.

She didn’t exactly know where the insecurities had come from but they were there and they weren’t exactly gone yet. She didn’t mean to freeze him out, certainly not, and their conflicting lives had certainly done it well enough without her adding to the problem. What she loathed was the feelings of inferiority and her treacherous mind would always exert images of Kendall’s preferred kind of woman, reminding Athena that she was far, far, far from that. Truly, she should not have been allowed to linger alone with her thoughts for very long. She supposed it was just the stress she was under, manifesting itself in her insecurities. She felt find moments ago. She supposed it was just the family. She loved them all to pieces, loathed the persistent mourning and loathed equally still the dependency on her that she had allowed to flourish. She hated that but at the same time she was happy to help.

It was easy to see why Athena enjoyed the simplicity of the garden when her life and her thoughts did not allow her such black and white givens.

“Yes, well,” Athena smiled and shook her head. “Your woman,” she rolled her eyes, “is very busy.” She slid out of his arms and smiled again, her cheeks pricking pink with colour, and she moved to pick up another tray to start filling with soil. “Did you sleep well?” She asked gently. “I tried not to wake you.” She leafed some of the soil into the tray and patted it down before clapping her hands together and turning back around to look at Kendall. “I was thinking about going down into the village later on in the day.” She informed him with an easy smile. “Do you want to come with me?”

The grounds of Rookwood- the village of Rookwood, rather, might seem almost barren of souls. Life, there was. After all, Raghnall Rookwood and his predecessors did pride themselves in the primming and pruning of the expansive land they have inherited from the patriarchs before. The land was a show of glory, after all. The extent of it spoke for itself, let alone the extravagance spent in shaping it into the landscape of today. Life was ever so present, even if seemingly silent, on the grounds of Rookwood. It was Spring, though, that roused that life. Voices seem to fill the air, as grass to bush to flower to bark to leaf decided that life was good, and worth living after all. Yet, beneath the veneer of just nature, the land was not barren of souls. Beyond the periphery of the naked eye, the souls of old awoke, having hidden themselves in the safety of leaf to bark to flower to bush to grass. The land was nothing short of what Raghnall Rookwood would shrug and call visitors, villagers who never survived the cleansing, but who still lived to see the remains of that day.

Fannia was not pleased, and not at peace. He adored the carpet of grass against his padded paws. Often, too, there were butterflies to chase after. He would run, roll, and roam around in the lush greenery of the Rookwood scene, but the voices could not leave him alone. He did not understand them. Sometimes he thought he could see them, afar, talking amongst themselves; sometimes dancing, mostly crying. It was a horrible privilege to bear- to have to witness them. Fannia learnt that it was almost an exclusive invitation extended to him. The humans, the ones running the land today, did not seem bothered. In fact, they had seemed to take no notice of the voices that he would hear, and the sights that he would be privy to. Or, at least, they make no indication, in his presence, that they did. Admittedly, the voices, and the souls, frightened him. The humans had laughed at his jumpiness, but there was no way to explain it to them. In the presence of Kendall and Athena, he felt safe. Fannia watched them, and decided that he could stay in the shed with them, too. Pleased, he settled himself on a spot on the ground, sniffed the scent of leaves in the air, and wagged his tail in satisfaction.

“No,” Kendall shook his head.

“I went on an adventure on the high seas to look for you. I swam, and I swam, and I swam, but …” He brought Athena closer to him, yet again, from behind, and began to nibble at her ear.

“Well, I’ve found you now, now that I’ve hit the shore again.” He sniffed, taking in the fresh scent of his wife.

“We’ll hit the village later, Thea.” He allowed his nose to travel the length of Athena’s neck.

“I have other plans, now.” And Fianna whimpered in an attempt for human attention. Yet, Kendall would not budge. Instead, he gained a firmer hold of his wife, and began to lavish kisses at the smoothness of her jaw, traversing between her ear, through her neck, and to the definition of her collarbone.

In the soft light of spring it was all too easy to forget that a different set of walls had not too long ago encompassed a rather frail figure; a terrified young woman, the shadow of which lingered only in the unforgiving blades of her cheekbones but was otherwise gone, replaced by a mother, a wife, a woman who had long forgotten the feel of a wand in her hand and malice in her heart.

Some would attest that the domesticity had ruined Athena but others would acknowledge the way it suited her, in a manner that no one had before imagined. It was no secret that, before, she’d steeled herself, prepared not to be married and consoled by the promising career that awaited her within the Death Eater faction. However it was also no small secret that she was incredibly relieved to be married, to have such security – even if it was at times tenuous.

The House of Rookwood was as separate as it was cumulative and Athena understood now the importance of family and being about those that were kith and kin. She wanted Augustus home, she wanted Katarina to stop wandering about the grounds, she wanted the girls to stop bruising themselves and for the boys to stop whinnying about everything and nothing. She wanted Elijah in his arm chair and Mira perched on the arm. She wanted her family encompassed in their home and she wanted Kendall by her side, most importantly of all.

Athena relaxed in her husband’s embrace and brushed her hands together free of the dirt before reaching for Kendall’s, looping her fingers with his. Athena smiled and turned into him, pressing a kiss to his jaw before looking over at Fianna who didn’t appear to appreciate being ignored by his owners. Athena smiled at the dog regardless and looked up at Kendall who was mumbling to her, words that she didn’t register until that moment particularly.

Turning in his arms, Athena reached up and looped her arms around his neck, her fingers skirting into the fine hair at the back of his neck.

“Well, you’re lucky in the fact that I hadn’t strayed far,” Athena indulged with a gentle smile as she reached up to press a kiss to the side of Kendall’s mouth. “I do have some work to do though so I think whatever you have planned will have to wait until later, sweet.”

Except, Athena knew Kendall had no intention what so ever of waiting; and why should he, he is a Rookwood after all?

She laughed a little as he began to ravage her skin and she squirmed against his grip on her, rolling her hips against his as she was brought closer.

“Kendall, sweetheart...”

Athena’s hands found his jaw and she lifted his head away to look at him, a smile toying with her lips as she tried to figure out what he wanted from her – as though she didn’t already know. She rubbed her thumb absent-mindedly across his cheekbone, feeling the softness of his boyhood beneath her fingers, revelling in the way it lacked the parchedness of his father’s, of all Death Eaters struggling, caught between youth and agedness.

“I love you,” Athena rose up onto her tip toes as best she could and stole a kiss from her husband, her fingers weaving back into his hair. “I’ve missed you. You’ve been so distant and I-”

Athena broke off and smiled before bringing herself in against his chest, marvelling at the warmth that he exuded and the softness of his shirt. Her fingers began to stroke gently at his neck and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her arm drop down to loop about his waist.

With Kendall, Athena felt overwhelmingly safe. With him next to her, truly with her, all of her ill thoughts and worries were put to bed. She could rest her wary heart for a few moments and revel in the bond she had with her husband, revel in him, in herself, in their pairing. It was the closest she’d been to truly having him back in weeks...just, holding him, and him her.

Athena smiled to herself at the feeling of Kendall’s heart beating so strongly and her heart lifted within her chest, buoyant in a manner that she had been allowed to forget. Lifting her head, Athena brought herself up onto her tip-toes again and brushed her lips against his tenderly.

“I love you,” she whispered again, against his mouth.

She would say it again in the evening and then again as they bathed and later when they delved under the covers, content in each other’s embrace. Every time she would mean each word, every syllable, every letter because he was hers, and she, his. Her Kendall. Her husband. Her lover. Her partner. Her everything. He was hers.

Spring was here, but the chill in the air still left much to be desired for warmth. It was a façade. The fact of the weather, over the truth of the weather. It was a façade. The fact of Rookwood’s solidarity, over the truth of the sum of their broken parts. It was a façade. And the fact of Kendall’s detachment, over the revelation of his hold of Athena. He held his wife, relaxing the grip he had ventured possessively for earlier, trusting now that she would stay where he needed her to be at, on her own accord. He cared not for the unfamiliar silent hostility of Spring, confused that nature itself contained more contradictions than even the composition of human souls. Instead, he was drawn to the warmth that he could elucidate with Athena just next to him, closing his eyes to drink in the familiarity of her body against his.

“Speaking of work …” He mumbled against the scent of his favourite skin. “This is urgent.” Feeling Athena move along with him, Kendall smirked in delight. And then, a tender touch. A touch that, for him, spoke volumes of their marriage. Putting away his wicked intentions, even if just for the moment, Kendall felt himself surrender to Athena’s hand, almost sighing into the tenderness of the gesture. Wave after wave, he allowed himself to be carried away to the consistent ebb and flow of her affection, relishing in the way she called to him, drawing close in a desperate attempt to shut out the distance.

It was easy to say that he revelled in the revelation of her need for him. Yet, in the same manner, he could not hide his joy in having found her, even if they were, after all, living in the same house. That was, perhaps, what Rookwood Manor did. It was a fortress, or rather; it was built to be one. There were too many walls, for better or for worse; and often, more inside than outside. Every space was a placement, every person was a rook on a board. And even though Kendall had thought it fair to live in this manner, he could not ignore the ironic distance he felt from his wife. Yet, he did not know what to do. It was all that he knew about a marriage, watching the ones at the manor, especially that between Augustus and Cordelia. Distance was acceptable; meant to be, even.

Still, when she said the words, it arrested him. Kendall embraced Athena with a hunger that barely contained the typical lust he felt for her. There was so much more than that. Yet, he knew not what to say, wishing that his desperate hold could supplant what he could not express. There was a time when love was not something that he spoke about. In fact, Kendall could not remember the word ever being used at the manor. It was not that no one ever felt love at the Rookwoods. The intricacies of Rookwood relationships were just a little too much, and the matter of love was rarely breached.

Yet, even as he spent his years fighting against what he knew now as an inevitability, with Athena, Kendall could, and had, finally admitted that the avalanche of confusion and irresistibility was love. Somehow, it found its way. Easily, he could remember how this all coincided with what father had told him when he was just a boy, waiting to see that he could, after all, manifest signs that aligned him with the magical talent of the Rookwood House. Embarrassingly, unbeknownst to strangers of the manor, and perhaps even to Athena herself, there were whispers and fears of the boy’s ability, or lack thereof. The tutor had spoken to Augustus and Raghnall of Kendall’s abilities. At best, it was said, he was just a late bloomer. No one dared to express the worst.

“Trust the process,” Augustus had said, as he held his little boy in his arms. It was, on hindsight, one of the more affectionate moments that the father shared with his son. Kendall never could forget it. He remembered what it felt like to be held by his father. Even more, he remembered the ring of those words.

Trust the process. Kendall did. And here he was, holding Athena closer than he knew anyone had ever held her before. He spoke little of the emotions, but he wore them on his arms. It didn’t work to hide them. Gently, he rubbed his arms against Athena’s skin, feeling her lean in against him. And just like that, he felt the wave of emotions sweep away his earlier desire. Still holding onto Athena, Kendall drew himself slightly away and reached for the trowel she had held onto earlier.

“Have I ever told you how I love it when my woman works me?” Kendall smirked and pressed his lips against the girl’s left temple. Speaking against the smoothness of her skin there and taking in the scent of her hair, he continued with deliberate suggestiveness, “tell me what you like.”