Get thee a good husband,
And use him as he uses thee.
-All's Well that Ends Well, I.i.229-30
She looked like a child. The pins in her hair had come loose, leaving tendrils to fall asymmetrically down her back. She tucked her chin to her chest and refused to meet any of their eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, white fingers clutching at her elbows.
She had gotten much too thin, he realized. One day she would just blow away like smoke in the wind.
They had come for her again, and again their haphazard coterie had forced the nightcomers from the house, leaving wreckage in their wake. They had battled through the night and in the burgeoning light of the day had righted the parlour where they now circled around the embers of the dying fire, waiting for a salvation they knew they could only make for themselves.
Vanessa could not last this onslaught much longer, Ethan knew.
"There must be something more we can try," Sir Malcolm had said when they first regrouped, as he did each time the witches made another attempt. As always, no one responded. Sir Malcolm was at a loss, Victor had only just taken more morphine, and Sembene was as stoic as ever.
But an idea had been spinning round and round Ethan's mind for days now, a desperate idea that might in the end do more harm than good. But the situation had become dire. Vanessa was weakening by the day, and he refused to fail her now.
"Miss Ives?" he asked softly.
She looked up at him from across the circle of leather sofas. Her eyes were gradually becoming colorless, and she gazed at him as if in a dream.
"I think I may have thought of a way to help you."
She said nothing still, but Sir Malcolm and the good doctor sat forward quickly and Sembene stepped closer to the longest sofa.
"What man?" Sir Malcolm asked excitedly, but Ethan never took his eyes from Vanessa's. She was trembling.
Slowly, Ethan stood from the end of the sofa and made his way to the mantle. She watched him unblinkingly, her fingers shaking against the black satin of her sleeves. Ethan took a deep breath.
"You told me the Devil wants you to be his queen of darkness and the mother of evil. Was that the truth?"
He knew it was. Ethan had found her standing outside his door three nights prior, her eyes wet and her face flushed and her bones poking out from under her thin white nightdress. And she told him every word that had passed between her and the demon that had come to her wearing his face. He had stayed silent, knowing from the wildness in her eyes and her fingers clutching at his shirt that she needed to tell him everything, needed to expunge the horror from her mind. When she finished, he had held her close until her tears dried and then led her back to her own room, tucking her in as he had that awful, awful day. She had fallen asleep by the time he closed the door, but he had spent the rest of the night keeping vigil outside her room, thinking, thinking, thinking. Now he thought he had found finally an answer.
Vanessa clearly understood that he didn't doubt her, he could see that, so when she lifted her chin defiantly Ethan knew she was offering her affirmation.
"What's this?" Sir Malcolm questioned sharply as he rose completely from the sofa, whiskey in hand. Ethan ignored him and kept his eyes locked on Vanessa's. He licked his lips.
"What I was thinking is, how could you be the Devil's bride if you were already bound to someone else?"
She flinched and shook her head with a jerk. "No."
"Think about it, Miss Ives."
Her eyes flashed. "It wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't make a difference. He would still come for me."
Ethan shook his head and took two steps closer to her. "I don't think so. If we do this correctly, we may be able to put another barrier between you and him. He wouldn't be able to take you."
"Mr. Chandler—"
"We know he can't touch something truly holy. It makes sense, Miss Ives – a consecrated union, blessed by a priest. A proper, righteous priest."
"Holy sacrament," Sir Malcolm added, nodding. "Mr. Chandler, this could work."
"You've all gone mad," Frankenstein intoned unemotionally from the sofa, but he was roundly ignored.
Vanessa stood, her movement graceful and her carriage regal despite the sleepless night and metaphysical bombardment. "I cannot ask that of you, Mr. Chandler."
"You're not asking. I'm offering."
But she shook her head again. "No, I cannot allow it. You believe such a...a binding, as you call it, would provide me a layer of protection from the Devil, but what of his minions? What of the creatures that come for me in his stead? Uniting yourself with me on such a level would enrage them. Though I appreciate the efforts you have taken to defend me, Mr. Chandler, I cannot consent to your placing yourself in the way of undue harm and danger."
"I'm already in danger, in case you haven't been paying attention. You know they've come after me as well, and you know it's because of what I am. Lupus dei, they called me. Wolf of God. That's not your doing, is it? And if it's the Devil you're trying to keep at bay, wouldn't tying yourself to something of God's work better than anything else?"
Vanessa kept her eyes fixed on the door. Frankenstein scoffed behind him, but Ethan could not have cared less what the other three men in the room thought of his proposition or attempts at persuasion. They weren't like him and Vanessa. They did not walk the fine line between themselves and something else entirely, not as he and Vanessa did.
She quivered and let out a shaky breath. Ethan crouched down ever so slightly so that his eyes were level with hers and gently took her hand-covered elbows in his own. "You called me your protector."
"They're cards," she hissed, but he shook his head.
"It was whatever magic you have inside you telling you I'm here to help you. You're not dark, Miss Ives." Her eyes snapped back to his, clear as glass and shining in the dying light of the fire. "Not like they are, and you know it. And what you told me makes sense. All these years, I've never known why I have this thing inside me. Now I think I do."
Her eyes closed again, and a jolt of yearning made its way through Ethan as he suddenly realized he missed them. "You cannot place that upon me."
"I'm not."
But she was shaking again, from her head to her toes. "No," she bit out. Her eyes opened and she jerked abruptly, forcing Ethan to rise to his full height and step away from her.
"I'm sorry, no," she said, her voice cracking on the last word, before turning on her heels and fleeing the room.
Ethan watched her go, the last of her raven hair finally coming loose and streaming out behind her. He turned and was met with the dumbfounded expressions of both Sir Malcolm and Frankenstein. Sembene pursed his lips and looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes. Ethan hadn't the time for them.
He followed Vanessa into the hall and called after her, but she refused to stop, hurrying through the entry and up the staircase. Ethan took the stairs two at a time until he reached her on the landing.
"Vanessa, wait," he said throatily, catching her wrist. She turned slowly to face him, her eyes parallel with his given the two stair steps she had on him. She was crying.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he whispered, raising his free hand to delicately wipe away the tears glistening like opals against her pallid cheeks.
She leaned in almost imperceptibly to his touch. "You haven't upset me."
"I have and I apologize, but you need to hear me out."
His hand dropped from her cheek to her waist, preventing her from running again. Her chin fell to her chest once more, but he knew she was listening. He inhaled deeply and began again. "You know what I am. I've never told you in so many words, but you know. You know how I've struggled with it; I almost let it take me away from you."
He felt a tremor run through her beneath his broad hand, but he didn't stop. He had put off being completely honest with her about himself, about his feelings for too long.
"There have been times I've hated myself for it, and I'll admit, there've been times I tried to end it, but I never could. For so long, I wandered lost in the darkness until I stopped believing in much of anything beyond what I could see with my own two eyes. But after everything we've done – after everything you've showed me – I'm beginning to understand what it all means."
Two perfect tears trailed down her cheeks once more, but he made no move to rub them away. She had to hear him.
"You called me your protector, and whether you believe it's true or not, I do. And so does the Devil. He's sent those things after me specifically. They've tried to deter me and I know you're awfully distracted when they attack us, but one of them always goes after me in particular.
"They call me your protector, too" he breathed, his voice dropping. He pressed his thumb to the center of her palm. "They whisper it to me in the heat of battle. They call me the Wolf of God, and I know it to be true. Whatever I may do when I'm...when I'm like that, I don't feel an evil presence. I'm not saying it's in the right, and I'm not saying I'm proud of the people I've hurt, but more and more all the time I think there's a purpose to it.
"I know you don't like to think of your life as prophesized or bound by fate, and I'm not saying I believe much in destiny either, but I do think that no matter what I could've done all roads would have lead me to you. That I'm supposed to be here, by your side, defending you from this evil."
Vanessa's small hand clutched at his, sending a paradoxical rush of warmth through him. He moved his other hand from her waist, letting it ghost along her side as he reached up to grasp her chin between his thumb and his forefinger. She let him raise her head so that his eyes could bore into hers.
"I'm not ashamed of what I am. Not anymore. I'm not afraid. I don't reject what I am or why I'm here. I don't rebel against it. I accept it. Wholeheartedly."
Ethan couldn't keep his voice from shaking at his last word, his vow. Vanessa understood and visibly choked.
"Mr. Chandler," she breathed and made to step down closer to him, but Ethan held her more firmly, forcing her eyes to stay on his.
"Now, I've spent a lot of time thinking about what that means for you and me," he continued. "Since you came to me the other night, I've been thinking and thinking and thinking, and I know it sounds crass and misogynistic, but I really think to keep you safe I have to get to you before he can. If I am God's wolf, if He made me this way so that I could be a weapon against the Devil, surely, surely, I can offer you protection in that.
"Vanessa," his voice wavered, and he felt tears blaze behind his own eyes. "I don't take this lightly, and I don't think you should reject me so flippantly. This plan has merit. I know how alone you must feel; I've felt it, too. But we're stronger together, we could outwit him together. Please, just think it through."
His thumb slid up to brush along her lower lip. "But you should know, I'm not suggesting this because I feel I must or because I think it's my duty. I'm asking you to be with me, in the eyes of God and the Devil and whoever else is watching, because I want to. And because I want to be with you."
It was a confession, and she took it as such. Her lip quaked beneath his finger, so he moved his hand to rest against her upper arm. She moved her own hand to lace her fingers through his.
"I'm afraid," she whispered brokenly.
"Of me?" Ethan asked just as quietly.
She shook her head, her curls brushing his hand as softly as moths' wings. "No, never."
Something stirred deep within him, something familiar and foreign all at once. He forced it back, keeping his mind focused on her, his thumb sweeping reassuringly over hers.
Fresh tears glided along her cheeks. "This is how it always begins. He always works anew within me, always when I let myself begin to love."
A dam deep within Ethan burst, flooding his senses with a burning, coursing heat such as he had never known. He knew instinctively to let her speak, to let her work her way to him, but that didn't stop him from suddenly longing to crush to him, to touch and smell and taste every inch of her, to show her what he felt better than words could ever express. But instead, he settled for cupping her cheek and drawing her down a step, her name a murmur on his lips.
Her free hand settled against his heart. Surely she could feel it throb warmly against her clammy palm through the layers of bloody, sweat-drenched clothes.
"Sometimes he takes them, sometimes he doesn't, but I always lose those dear to me once he's through, and you are so, so very dear me, Ethan." She caressed his name with her tongue, seeming to enjoy saying his Christian name as much as he enjoyed hearing it on her lips. "You are the truest friend I have ever had. I know you have no ulterior motive in offering yourself to me, I know you do not see me as an obligation, and if we were any other man and woman…."
Her voice faltered, and she pressed herself more firmly into his hands. The shaking began afresh. Ethan dropped her hand to rest his against the one covering his chest.
"I won't let him touch you again."
"You cannot promise me that. To do so would be far greater a pledge than you can know."
He brushed the back of his hand along her damp cheek. "Haven't you learned better by now than to tell me what I can and can't do? I meant what I said. When the Devil pulled that demon out from inside you I forced it back, and I'll do it again if I have to. Not that I'll let things go that far again. I'll never let you suffer like that; I'll always find a way. You have my word on that."
"I believe you," she whispered but didn't elaborate, instead staring down at their hands intertwined at his tattered shirtfront.
When she next spoke, she said, "In my torment he came to me in your form, as I have told you. At first I didn't recognize him as an impostor; I wanted it to be you. And he tempted me – oh Ethan, how he tempted me. But it was not his sweet sentiments or the glory he promised me that made me want to give in. It was your voice whispering beautiful words in my ear, your hands on my skin, your mouth on mine. I wanted him because he was you, and he knew it. The Devil knew what was in my heart before I fully did.
"You may be something he cannot touch. You may be this Wolf of God, and it may be that he will be kept at bay by my binding myself to you, but that will not prevent him from coming after you. He will send his nightcomers, and they will be relentless; you will know no peace. They need me alive, but they will slaughter you if they get the chance, and I cannot lose you, Ethan. I'm not strong enough to bear this weight without you."
"And you won't have to," he said firmly, drawing her down the last step so that they stood on an even plane. "I've held them back so far, and I'll do it again. Even if they all come at me at once, they haven't seen all I'm capable of. I—" his voice cracked and he looked down, ashamed. "I'm afraid I haven't been doing all I can. I've hidden what I am, repressed it from you, but that stops today. I will offer you all that I am, even the part of myself I fear.
"I can't promise you nothing will happen to me, but I have faith that this will work. I have faith, Vanessa. Thanks to you."
Morning light streamed in from the numerous windows, making her eyes gleam. Finally, finally, she stepped forward into his arms, wrapping her thin ones around his torso. He held her to him, resting his chin easily against her crown. She had been formed perfectly for him, he realized. They fit. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek into her messy locks.
"And you should know – you must know by now – that I'm not asking this of you just because I think it's the right thing to do. I need you just as badly as you need me. More than I should. More than is proper. It wouldn't just be about keeping you safe, it would be about you and me. Together. Because I want you, Vanessa. God help me, I do."
Another shudder ran through her, but he could tell this time it wasn't one of fear. A part deep inside him, his animal self, sent a wave of feral emotions through him, of desire and need and possession and awe. He would worship this woman if she gave him the chance.
There were no more words, no more arguments to plead his suit. So he leaned his head beside hers, nuzzling the shell of her ear through her hair with his nose.
"Please," he whispered. "Marry me."
Vanessa said nothing at first, but her arms clung tighter to him and her head nodded up and down. "Yes," she finally gasped. "Ethan, yes."
The beast in him roared as his blood rushed to his head. The tears that had long threatened and burned his eyes finally slipped past his defenses as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, where he could feel her pulse flutter against her fragile skin. His hand reached up to cradle the back of her head.
"Thank you," he murmured over and over again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
She shook against him, and Ethan rubbed her back as he pressed a kiss into her hair. She moved back when he drew away, her arms still around him as she looked up into his eyes. One frail hand stretched up to brush his hair behind his ear, cradling his cheek.
He would have kissed her then and there, as he could tell she wanted him to, had a theatrical cough from the doorway to the parlour not caused them both to look down to the floor below.
The other three men were gathered together staring up at Ethan and Vanessa, having evidently watched the entire scene unfold. Frankenstein looked between the man and the woman appalled, while Sembene, much to Ethan's satisfaction, appeared mildly impressed. Sir Malcolm, for his part, looked the cat that ate the canary.
"How much of that did you all hear?" Ethan called down.
"Enough to get the point across," the doctor answered with slight disgust.
Sir Malcolm clapped him none too gently on the back and all but beamed up at the two on the landing. "If I may make a suggestion, I am of the opinion that time is of the essence and there is no sense in waiting around. You two really ought to have the ceremony performed as soon as possible. Today, even, if it can be managed. Before night falls and those witches return. I'm sure with my influence I can arrange for a special license. Do either of you know of a priest willing to sanction a marriage on such short notice?"
"I'll find one," Ethan said.
Vanessa, having quietly stepped out of his arms, spoke up. "No, I know one."
Ethan searched her eyes for any trace of doubt as she gave him the name and address of the church. Personally, he thought he would fare better if she had less time to think back on her decision, but Vanessa's face showed no signs of regret. Her skin was uncreased and her eyes were bright and held a look of something like relief. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly when she looked at him.
"Excellent," Sir Malcolm said, bringing his hands together once more. "No time to waste, then. I'll be off to the magistrate's with Dr. Frankenstein—"
"I really don't see—"
"—with young Victor here. Mr. Chandler, you go speak with the priest. Morning services shall just be beginning. Vanessa, my dear girl, rest, and once you feel a little hardier reinforce the defenses you have placed around this house. I will send for you and Sembene when everything is arranged."
Sembene, who Ethan hadn't notice leave the group, returned from the coat closet bearing outerwear and hats. As Sir Malcolm and Frankenstein went about buttoning up for the cold, Ethan turned back to Vanessa. She smiled up at him now that no one was watching, a soft and small but still genuine smile. Her eyes danced in the light of the dawn.
Unable to resist, Ethan took her face in his hands and pulled her closer. "Do something for me."
She said nothing but quirked an eyebrow in response.
He chuckled. "Wear something other than black to our wedding."
Her smile widened into a grin, and Ethan was certain that had they been alone she would have laughed outright.
Ethan at long last let his composure slip and drew her in for a kiss. Her lips were cold and chapped, and she tasted of flesh and death and spiced tea from some faraway place, but she was still soft and tender and lovely and his. Her hands came up to rest on his chest once more, and he rubbed his forehead lightly against hers as he pulled away. She gave him a secretive smile before turning and ascending the stairs. He watched her go.
The other men met his stare when he turned around, having obviously watched the exchange. Ethan paid them no mind. Instead, he marched down the stairs and retrieved his overcoat and bowler hat from Sembene with a nod before strolling past the bemused Sir Malcolm and exasperated Frankenstein out the door and into the brisk morning air.
I had wanted to have this story completely written before I began posting it, but alas, I needed to have it up before the canon on the show starts screwing with my timeline. I outlined it all right after the first episode of the season aired, but it seems like the nature of things like Ethan's lycanthropy and Vanessa's outlook will be changing rather rapidly on the show. Oh well. Part II should be up in the next week or so.