She Belongs To Fairytales
A/N: After the Patriots are removed from Austin, Charlotte finally has time to reflect on her past decisions. In a moment of curiosity, Charlie Matheson reads some personal thoughts of the great Sebastian Monroe. Innocent snooping turns out to reveal more than Charlie ever expected. My first story, so I'm extremely nervous, but I am curious to hear what you all think. The rating is mature for future chapters. I would like to thank Agnes Cornel for letting me barrow her title. I also used a reference to the poem "The Rose of Battle" by William Butler Yeats.
Disclaimer: I do not own Revolution
Chapter One
"What happens when summer's over?" I ask my uncle as he takes a seat beside me.
"Uh, we win," he says simply.
I look at him quizzically and he groans.
"What?"
I sigh internally. When it comes to fighting and war strategies, most would say Miles Matheson is smart, some would even say he is a genius. However, when it comes to people and relationships, my dear Uncle Miles is clueless.
"Alright! You're clearly not going to say it so I will. I think you and my mom should give it a shot." I pause for a moment to let my words sink in. Then I clarify "A real one."
Miles glances away uncomfortably for a moment then glances back, "Give what a shot?"
I have to resist not rolling my eyes. Does he think I am an idiot? Actually, sometimes he does think I am an idiot when it comes to fighting and killing people. However, when it comes to people, I definitely have more common sense. "Don't be an idiot." I say with a smile.
"Look, I wish things could've been different between me and Jason. And now we'll never get the chance," I say sadly. "You love her. She loves you. It's kind of an open secret. You guys deserve to run off and be happy together."
I see Miles is looking at me hesitantly, as if he is afraid to admit that he loves my mother. I try to calm his nerves, "I'm glad it's you Miles, I want it to be you," I say sternly. I want him to understand that I wholeheartedly want them to be together and be happy. Miles is the only person I have been able to look up to since my dad died, and my mother is the one that makes him happy. Is it a little weird that my uncle will be dating my mother? Yes, it is, but that is what you have to do for the people that you love the most. You have to let them be happy with the people that make them happy.
Miles looks away uncomfortably and says "Thank you kid. That means a lot to me." I can tell he truly means what he is saying; he just does not know how to express how he is feeling. He leans over and suddenly wraps me in a bear hug, "Thank you," he says again then he lets go and says, "I have to go clean up the mess the Patriots made," he says getting up, "Even when we beat them they're still a pain in the ass." Miles leaves and I am left sitting alone to get back to my work.
I get back to the task of weapons maintenance and ponder about what I said to Miles. I told him about Jason, that I wish we were given a shot, and that was true. However, it was not the whole truth. I do feel that Jason and I were robbed of our shot at a relationship, but I don't think we would have been able to adapt to the changing world around us. He wasn't the mysterious stranger who saved me from bandits, and I was definitely not the innocent village girl who craved to see the world and experience adventure. I have seen enough of the world, I have experienced enough adventure, and I would give anything to be that wide-eyed, open – minded girl I was two years ago. No, Jason and I would have never worked even if we were the same people we were two years ago. That is because there is another more mysterious man that intrigues me and seems to understand my every thought.
Yes, Sebastian Monroe is the man I can't seem to stay away from. I am drawn to him like a moth is to a flame, but I can never admit how I feel. My mother blames him for the death of my father and brother, he kept my mother prisoner for years, they call him the Scourge of Scranton, he is responsible for the deaths of thousands, he is twenty-five years older than I am, and he will never think of me as anything but Miles' niece. Sadly, it is the last reason that bothers me the most. I will always be "just a kid," a kid who slept with his son.
Sleeping with Connor Bennett was one of the worst mistakes I have ever made. I slept with him because of my unreturned feelings for his father and after we left Duncan Page's tent. Anyone in the room could tell those two had history and Duncan was going to use that against him. I left the tent with Connor and left the two to their own devices. I still get queasy when I think of what went on in that tent, and at the time, it was too much. Connor had his father's curly hair, similar facial features, and he had his father's attitude. Of course, Bass had mastered his attitude to appear as charm, Connor was just cocky. However, it was still enough. I gave into Connor Bennett because I could not give into Sebastian Monroe. The entire time I wished the eyes I was looking into were blue and I wanted to call out a different name. When Bass found us, I felt the embarrassment of my mistake and I knew that any chance I had of Bass seeing me as anything other than Miles' niece was destroyed. It was even more humiliating when Bass made that stupid comment about how I chose to sleep with a Monroe. I was almost tempted to tell him I chose Connor because I couldn't have him just to see his stupid smirk disappear from his face. I was smarter than that though. I knew that the shock would soon turn to laughter and I could not have Sebastian Monroe laughing at me.
I destroyed any chance I had with Bass, and circumstance destroyed anything else. When I was telling Miles about Jason, I was also talking about Bass. He would never give me a chance and I was too scared to give him one. Therefore, I told Miles to be happy with my mom because not everyone has to be miserable in this world.
I was still working when I heard footsteps approach. I looked up to find a Texas Ranger coming towards me with an apprehensive look on his face. He steps in front of me and says,
"Excuse me Ma'am?"
"Yes"
"Uh, General Monroe said he had intercepted some messages from the Patriots and he wants them translated, and he told me to get them out of his tent. I… I…I don't know where his tent is and I was wondering if you did? He said it was urgent."
No wonder he looked so scared. Most people would be if the man who used to brand his soldiers gave you a direct order.
I stood up and smiled at the ranger, "Don't worry about it. Wait right here, I know where his tent is. I can get it for you."
The ranger smiled back looking much relived. "Thank you Ma'am."
I tell him that I will be about ten minutes and head to where Bass claimed a tent a few hours prior. I entered the small tent and took in my surroundings. In the tent, there was a small cot and makeshift table, along with a backpack I recognized as Bass'. I assumed the messages were in the backpack and walked over to where it was laid. Going through it, I noticed a thermos, a change of clothes, a notebook, some pencils, and a bunch of folded papers. Still holding the bag, I pulled the papers out and opened them, revealing that they were the Patriot messages. I went to refold the papers when the bag slipped and all its contents spilled out of it. Damn it! Bass is going to be pissed at the poor ranger if he finds his stuff out of place. I scrambled to put everything back in its place when I reached for the notebook. I swear the thing fell face open on the ground and it caught my eye.
They were poems. Moreover, they were all in Bass' handwriting. Holy shit! The big, bad, General Sebastian Monroe writes poetry. This is the most laughable thing I have ever come across. I glance around the empty tent. I am so tempted to read this. I know poems can be personal, but I crave to understand his mind, for he is the biggest mystery I have ever encountered. It has only been five minutes since I left the ranger. I told him ten, so I have five minutes left. That's enough for one little poem. Besides how much can one poem reveal? I pick up the notebook and started to read.
She Belongs To Fairytales
She belongs to fairytales,
Her beauty all too great
And stubbornness that prevails,
Her mind always in a calm state.
Her blue eyes like the sky,
Skin a perfect brown,
Her golden hair passes me by
Flowing around, a golden crown.
She shows no fear,
I cannot ignore
When she is near,
It is her I adore,
It is her I desire
My feelings more than dire.
She belongs to fairytales,
Her charming, young prince,
Rescuing her on his white steed,
With dark eyes and dark curls,
And everything else she will need.
Oh, I wish those dark eyes were blue,
And I wish his hair was lighter too,
And I wish it was me she kissed goodbye,
When it is time to turn in at night.
She belongs to fairytales,
Her name on my lips is a lovely caress,
She deserves more than what we offer,
But I try to give her my best.
I want to hold her blue eyes to mine,
And sigh into her neck,
And give her a mark she'll never forget.
I want my touch to make her shiver,
Make her tremble make her quiver,
Make her feel this way forever.
She doesn't know how much I want to hold her,
Look into her eyes and say,
I've wanted no one else, but her.
It is hopeless.
I understand.
I am nothing more than just a man,
A man that has caused her pain.
It's enough to go insane.
But, that is how this all started,
When my purpose completely parted.
She belongs to fairytales
My whole life was meant for her.
To keep her safe is all I've ever wanted,
A destiny fate has prompted.
She belongs to fairytales,
We can never be,
She belongs to fairytales,
The sweet far thing.
She belongs to fairytales,
I need her so,
And all I have to show
Is this silly, silly poem.
She belongs to fairytales
This princess of mine,
She belongs to fairytales
This Charlotte of mine.
Oh. My. God. This entire poem is about me. Sebastian Monroe wrote an entire poem about me. I'm in shock. The poem was beautiful and vulnerable. It is hard to connect the man who wrote this poem to the man who was an insane dictator of an entire republic almost two years ago. After processing this information, I realized another big detail that this poem reveals. Sebastian Monroe thinks I'm beautiful, amazing, and as stated in the poem, wants to "give me a mark I'll never forget." That thought made me shiver, in the best possible way. I put the notebook back into the bag and grab the messages. Leaving the tent, I pondered on my previous thoughts about Bass' poetry. How much could one poem reveal? I was wrong. One poem can reveal too much.