Okay, make that two fics XD
Mild spoilers. Sequel to A Honeymoon Cut Short, but could stand alone because you'll work out what's happening. Similar situation here, with the family side of Revolutionist Princess life. Set either just before/just after the Masquerade, haven't decided yet, but before Swift's execution.
Quick summary: Princess Rosalyn (Rose for short), having run off with Elliot, gathers her courage to visit the Bowerstone Industrial Shelter once more. She can't bear to watch the children walk around in squallor, and is determined to help - income from months of gathering rent from almost every property in Albion has to go somewhere, right? Only, when Rose comes back out, she has a little souvenir she certainly wasn't expecting...
Disclaimer: I own nada except for Rosalyn and Dog. Jack is in fact one of the orphans in the game, the one I adopted, hence this story ^^
Rosalyn took a deep breath. She'd faced Balverines before, and had fought for her life numerous times before. But for some reason, it was the prospect of entering this building that was making her heart thump like this.
Dog pushed his nose into her head, and the sudden wet and cold made her jump. Looking down, she smiled uncertainly at the boxer.
"I'm fine. I'm just...catching my breath."
The dog seemed to smile, before nuzzling her hand again. Grateful, she scratched him behind the ears.
"Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous. I don't know what it's going to be like in there. And I might see...her again. I think I might die if I did."
Dog huffed, sitting down on the mossy stone. She smiled back.
"Okay, okay, I'm going in. Wait for me."
Taking another breath, she pushed open the doors and stepped into Bowerstone Orphanage.
It was almost worse than she'd imagined. She despaired to think how children could survive here. The walls were peeling, almost falling down, the furniture was pretty much falling apart, and there was the distinct patchwork look of people trying their best with what they had. A few drunks pushed past her, to go to the small bar on her right.
She went to follow them, when the sound of a child crying caught her ears. She turned, looking into the dilapidated dining hall. A small girl, who if standing still would not reach Dog's height when he sat, was sniffling, having stumbled over a chair leg. She looked around helplessly for a parent to come and pick her up, wipe the snot from her face, kiss the grazed knee better. But this girl wasn't in the orphanage for just nothing. No parents were coming.
The girl's face crumpled, ready to let rip with a wail. Rosalyn started forward, some inner motherly instinct wanting to pick the small blonde girl up and cuddle her, tell her everything was going to be alright. She was beaten to it by an old man on the next bench, who reached out and gently tugged the girl to her feet.
"There, there, child. Upsy-daisy."
The little girl sniffled, wiping away tears on the back of a grubby hand, and smiled uncertainly up at the quiet drunk. He smiled back, before turning to his mug of cloudy beer and staring broodingly into it.
Rosalyn went to turn away, when she noticed a small boy at her side, looking up at her. His clothes were ill-fitting and dirty, and he clutched a ragged teddy-bear in one hand. His face was grubby and thin, but his eyes shone brightly.
"Are you a pirate? You look like a pirate!"
Slightly ashamed of her attire, Rosalyn quelled a blush.
"I'm not a pirate. I'm...a traveller."
He looked almost disappointed.
"Oh. I was hopin' you'd be a pirate. Pirates are cool."
However, the sad expression on his face vanished suddenly, and he beamed up at her.
"Well, you're real pretty, lady, either way."
He turned his back on her and skipped up the stairs, whistling as he went, the teddy-bear's head bashing softly against each step. The Princess watched him go, a little shocked to see someone so happy in such a terrible place.
A little shaken, Rosalyn turned her attention back to the bar. Dodging drunks slumped over on stools, she approached the bartender, who exhaustingly wiped the dull untreated wood down with a dirty cloth. Trying not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of the liquor – she'd been in sewers before, and this reek was almost as bad – and smiled at him.
"Excuse me, sir."
The bartender looked up. She saw how tried he looked – sickly pale, with his hair hanging loose around his face, which was rough and unshaven. He made a valiant attempt to appear welcoming.
"Hello, stranger. Need a bottle of beer, soothe away the pain of life?"
He blinked, appearing to notice her get-up – the soft leathers of a highwayman, something she'd never imagined to look vastly superior in quality than another's clothes, but was sadly so in this room – and looking up into her face with faint surprise.
"Beg my pardon, ma'am, but you don't seem the type to need to doss – er, stay – here."
Rosalyn smiled.
"Staying here isn't my intention. I was hoping you could tell me – where would I go to make a donation to this shelter?"
The man's eyes widened, and the barmaid behind him stopped cleaning glasses.
"Are you serious, love? No one cares about a bunch of kids and drunks."
Her smile faltered slightly. Was this what depths Logan had let the city fall to? Her smile returned, more genuine.
"Well, I do. You could call me...a concerned citizen."
The barman looked faintly embarrassed, and smiled nervously.
"Well, Linda's house is down the street. She's the one who runs the place, so she'll be happy to accept any money."
"No!"
Rosalyn bit her lip. She'd said that louder than she'd intended. As nice a woman Linda was, the Princess was loathe to meet her again. She didn't think she'd be able to look the woman in the eye. Coughing nervously, she smiled again.
"I don't want to be a bother. I just want to donate some money."
The barman scratched his chin.
"Well, there's the matron upstairs. She's good and reliable, and she lives next door to Linda. You could give the money to her."
Thanking him, Rosalyn hurriedly left before the alcohol fumes proved to be her undoing. She took the stairs gingerly, afraid they'd buckle under her if she moved too fast. The matron was easy to find, in a room crawling with small children, all playing and fighting and talking and laughing at once. Each and every one of them wore patchwork clothing that was too big for them.
The young woman in the white cap watched them tiredly, with a small smile on her face that widened when she saw she had a visitor.
"Oh, hello there, ma'am. Have you come for one of the children? Don't believe anything they say – the staff aren't Balverines, and we don't turn the children into Hobbes at midnight."
Upon noticing a newcomer, the children fell silent as one, before each bolted to their bed and hurriedly attempted to straighten themselves out in a desperate attempt to get adopted. Rose didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
She smiled uncertainly.
"Actually, I was hoping you could safekeep some money for me. I wish to donate some money to this shelter, and as I hear you know the lady who runs this place?"
The young woman brightened, a warm smile across her face.
"That's mighty kind of you, love. Linda? I live right next door. Lovely girl, she is, right little ray of sunshine. She's always smiling, always helping out with the kids, always doing the dirty work, never lets anything get her down. Even when that young fiancé of hers ran off, she didn't stop smiling. She told him to go follow his heart, which is a right sight better than what I would've said, I'd've said-"
"Yes, thank you." Rose interrupted quickly. "I was wondering – would something like ten thousand gold be enough?"
The effect was quite amusing. The young woman's jaw dropped, her eyes popped, and the children started whispering amongst themselves. Rose felt someone tugging on her arm, and looked down to see the little boy from earlier. He blinked up at her curiously.
"Hello again! Is ten thou-sand a lot? Because it's got 'ten' in it, and I know ten is a lot, it's my age, so is ten thousand bigger than ten?"
The matron seemed to be having trouble speaking.
"Yes, Jack. Ten thousand is a lot bigger than ten."
A little girl called out from the bed farthest away from the door.
"Enough for meat pies?"
Rosalyn laughed softly.
"Yes, it's enough for meat pies for everyone."
The cheer that followed that sentence made tears well up in Rose's eyes, and she had to wipe them away quickly with a gloved hand. She handed over the pouch to the matron – who looked absolutely astonished, and handled the leather as though it were made of pure gold – and would have turned to leave, if Jack hadn't tugged on her sleeve again. She looked down.
The little blonde boy was beaming up at her, his dark grey eyes surrounded by rings, his hair matted and dull, dirt and grime smudged over his face and clothes, his teeth wonky, some having fallen out. To Rosalyn, he looked absolutely beautiful.
"Lady, would you like a little boy? I'd be the bestest little boy ever, I promise! You did come up to adopt me, didn't you?"
She stared. A few seconds later, she found her mouth moving automatically and saying.
"Yes, of course I did."
Oops, Rose, I think you've bitten off more than you can chew. Not that I can blame you. I went in that building to look for chests/keys/gnomes, and came out with a kid. He was just so freakin' adorable sounding.
I also wish I could've donated money or something to the orphanage before Princess became Queen. I know that'd defeat the purpose of the 'Orphanage or Brothel' decision later on, but I really felt for these fictional, computer-sprite kids. So kudos to Lionhead Studios for making me wanna adopt one.
You know, if you stick the word 'Balverines' into Word, it won't recognise it and a message saying 'Did you mean...Ballerinas?' will come up. I lol'd SO hard when I saw that XD God, Balverine Ballerinas. I had to do a fanart of this now...