Hmm…this one is for x-blackmeadow-x, because, while I was reading one of her stories (which I HIGHLY recommend), this idea came out of nowhere.
This was originally supposed to be titled 'Crashed and Crushed'. That was changed to 'Lost and Found'. This story was also supposed to be in the perspective of Thea and Eric. But I changed my mind…I felt Thierry's 'observatory' position would be better to write. I've had a recent obsession with writing about Thierry and Hannah lately…hmm. I'm actually going to write a story on Hannah in the upcoming hours of this evening. Interesting… Anyway, I'm going to shut up now so you can read. (:
Protective Fire
Thierry walked through the halls silently, head bowed. He stared at the wooden floor as he walked through his mansion, on the hunt for Thea. He was going to be the one to break the news to her…the news that the Crone was dead.
The Crone. The leader of the witches. Well, the old leader of the witches. She was gone now, mauled by three shapeshifters. A couple wolves and a tiger, Thierry thought. Shapeshifters who were obviously on the dark side.
Right that moment, an agreement between the witches and shapeshifters had halted. With no 'Queen Bee', how were the witches supposed to form an alliance with the shapeshifters? Thierry thought this through.
Obviously, the next-in-line would take over for Grandma Harman, the previous Crone. Thierry racked his brain for who this would be, and thought immediately of gentle Mother Cybelle. The kind-hearted woman would be the one to look over the witches. She was strong and independent, and cared about her kind like no other. She would never replace Grandma Harman, however.
Thierry himself had met with Grandma Harman several times. They'd discussed her using some of the land he owned for Solstice parties. The woman held a kind face with a hundred wrinkles. She had a story for each wrinkle, her memory allowing her to spindle every detail into a delicate web of storytelling. It was pure talent and an absolute gift, and Thierry remembered how bright her grey eyes were whenever she told a tale.
Sighing deeply, Thierry longed to have someone else tell Thea. She would be broken. Her own Grandmother had been so loved in the community of the Night World. Everyone had looked up to her, even those that hadn't been witches. Her wisdom seemed to shine down on every being she communicated with.
Turning a corner, he saw the door to Thea and Eric's door. As he walked to the door and knocked lightly, waiting for a reply, Thierry sighed one final time.
With a twist of a doorknob, Thea's head appeared. "Unit—hello, Thierry," the witch said happily. "I'm sorry. I sometimes forget that we only use 'unity' to greet other witches." She laughed, creating a light and airy sound.
This is going to ruin her good mood for sure, Thierry thought. I hate to be the one to do it. She's already been through so much, especially since she won't be able to do anything. She's 'banned' from the Night World. Everyone thinks her days of being a witch are through.
"Thea," he said, voice solemn, "I think you should sit down. Something has happened, and I doubt you'll take it lightly."
Thierry watched as Thea's eyes grew. She knew something was wrong. And Thierry had sounded so…damn formal. Almost like he was saying an early "I give my condolences". He really wasn't right for this kind of thing, and it killed him.
Thea walked over to a white sofa sitting by the window in the room. Thierry followed, and sat beside her.
"Thea," he said softly. "This is about your grandmother."
"Something happened to her." Thea's tone was flat. Thierry closed his eyes.
"Yes."
He opened them once more to see Thea stand up, and head to a bookshelf on the far side of the room. Jars of herbs racked the shelves, in place of books.
"Dried rose petals," Thea said. "She loved to work with them. They added just a touch of love to anything she was working on. Not enough to affect whatever it was, but enough that you could tell she, the Crone, had made it. Students that came to the shop called it 'her signature'."
"Thea," Thierry began, but the witch interrupted him.
"I don't know what happened, but I have a feeling it's horrible. And that it's killing you to have to tell me."
Thierry looked at her, then, dark eyes to brown ones. Thea was immensely smart. Her blonde hair was perfectly straight, and it reminded him of Hannah. Oh God…what if someday, he had to tell Hannah something like this? Maybe that her mother or best friend, Chess, had died. I hate this. The thought was so sudden, so random, that Thierry literally shook.
"Thea, your grandmother…she's dead."
He didn't know what to expect. Maybe for Thea to drop to the floor, or to break down and sob. But she didn't. Thierry had been an idiot for thinking that…Thea was stronger. Much, much stronger.
The girl's eyes closed, and her head bowed. "Goddess," she whispered, "See her through to the next place, wherever it may be. Guide her spirit, and set it free."
"I'm sorry, Thea. She meant the world to all of us." Thierry spoke softly, and walked to the door. Just as he opened it, a figure appeared to be walking in. It was Eric.
"I heard what happened. Is she all right?" he asked hurriedly.
"She's strong. But stay with her. She's mourning," Thierry told him, and turned to watch Eric head to Thea. The boy enveloped his girl in his strong arms, hanging on tightly. Thierry looked at Eric, and saw himself in the teenager.
How many times had Thierry hugged Hannah like that? A protective and fierce hug; one that said 'I won't let anything hurt you again'. A guarantee that everything would be fine.
He walked into the hall, closing the door with a small click behind him. He was surprised to see Hannah standing there, a sad look on her face.
She rushed to him, and Thierry hugged her. He held her tightly, just as he had done so many times, just as Eric was holding Thea now. And he knew that neither boy would let either of the girls go. Never, Thierry thought. Not even when the world comes to an end.
