A little something that has been floating around my head for a while. I've kind of felt that Prudence would end up being a daddy's girl, and that - being as she is completely surrounded by uncle-like figures - she would end up completely wrapping the whole pack around her finger. Particularly Professor Lyall since I imagine he'd be a major part of her life. I have a few more scenes in my head of Prudence-Pack-other interactions that I might put to paper and post here but I'm not entirely certain.

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I do not own any of the marvelous creations of Gail Carriger nor would I insult her or her characters by ever claiming to.

- Sin

Story Telling

"Did you love Grandfather very much?"

Professor Randolph Lyall hadn't expected anyone to still be up at such an hour. A few clavigers, or a maid or two doting about the townhouse perhaps, but he was certain that any other members of the household were tucked safe and sound in their beds asleep. It was late morning after all, and so few of their pack could even stand the sun's rays yet, and Lyall had commandeered the oddly sunny attic – for reasons never adequately explained to him there were a number of large, airy windows that filled the space with light even on the darkest of nights – as the location of his new laboratory.

To have anyone visit him at all would be a surprise, but to have it be none other than his mischievous god-daughter?

Prudence stood, no more than a week past her fourteenth birthday, wearing the slightly too-large and completely unsightly night dress her godmother Ivy Tunstell bestowed upon her as a birthday gift, her long dark hair curling falling haphazardly about her in a distinctly half-asleep manner. She should have been abed and asleep hours ago, but Lyall had known from the beginning that any child of Alexia and Conall Maccon was bound to do everything he hoped she wouldn't and nothing that he hoped she would – at least not without a great deal of convincing, threatening or some combination of the two. The fact that she was up and running around – with bare feet and not even dressed properly at that – was not as surprising as it should be for a young woman of good breeding.

Over the past months she had begun to lose the soft childishness in her face and figure, and the attractiveness of both her parents was beginning to show a little more every day. Prudence hadn't, as her mother had feared, inherited the sharp Italian nose of her grandfather, though she did have her mother's dark, curling hair and tanned skin. Coupled with her father's tawny-gold eyes and the deceptively sweetness of her face, the pack was well aware – even if she was not – how many young suitors they would have to frighten off. Lyall was not looking forward to the coming years, not even in the slightest.

His assessment of the girl was interrupted by a familiar looking leather bound notebook. It was small, blue and worn by age and handling. One of Alessandro Tarabotti's journals.

Lyall opened his mouth in surprise at the sight of the little book, blinking in surprise at seeing his Alphas' child clutching such a – at least to him – sacred tome. Sitting up a little straighter in his comfortable seat he brought his gaze up to meet his goddaughter's eyes. She didn't have the inherited expressions of stubborn determination or demanding glares – though Lyall had seen both on her young face often enough over the years. The expression she wore was one not common to the young girl, she looked…sad, regretful even. Curiosity may very well kill the cat, but it could very well break a young metanatural's heart if she wasn't cautious.

Prudence had read her grandfather's words and had been given knowledge about her Godfather that very few others could even guess at.

Lyall didn't wonder how the girl had managed to get ahold of the collection of journals Alessandro had left only to his werewolf lover. She was Prudence Alessandra Maccon Akeldama. He was, if anything, only mildly surprised that it had even taken this long for her to discover their hiding place. Giving a small sigh of resignation he nodded his head to her slowly.

"Yes. I did. Very, very much."

Prudence stood a moment longer, staring at him in the soft light of the morning, before stepping forward. She was almost like a ghost, as silent as she was, and for a brief absurd moment he wondered what would happen if she ever did come in contact with a specter. The thought left as quickly as it came as his goddaughter came to stand before him. Prudence had her hands outstretched, the journal offered up to him silently. He took the book from her gently, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders as he did so.

It was still in the same, somewhat worn condition as the last time he had seen it. He checked the date written in the front page, feeling his shoulders lower a little as he did so. It was the first of journals Sandy had left to him, the oldest. Inside its yellowed pages and cramped writing it held the story of how he and Alessandro Tarabotti had met, of the first few months of their sad tale. Slow, sweet, and ultimately very sad. He knew without a doubt that Prudence had taken the others as well and had read each and every one, returning them to their proper place, safe and sound.

All save the one tucked safe and sound in his waist coat. The one that was always with him, the one that held the end of their tragic tale.

It didn't bother him, as perhaps it should have, that she had read the private journals. The fact that his privacy had been invaded by this infantile, slip of a pup wasn't an issue in his mind. Prudence was much more than just a pup in the pack. She was his Alphas' child, his goddaughter, Sandy's granddaughter.

He looked up from the book in his hands, watching as the way the sun's rays fell on her young face. Seeing, in that moment, past the gold of her eyes and the shape of her face, back through the years to a man he had loved. Lyall gave his goddaughter – very nearly his granddaughter in the roundabout way that life worked in – the best smile he could, feeling every second of his many years. Prudence rested a hand atop his larger one gently, the brown of her eyes swiftly being swept away by a hunter's yellow, her canines becoming subtly longer and sharper as she spoke. "Will you tell me about him? I won't tell Mama. I'll take it to my grave if you want, but…please?"

She looked so sad, so hopeful. He could scarcely deny giving her the world on a normal occasion, but now? He was completely helpless to this child's ever whim. His smile, though sad, grew a little as he patted her hand. "Take a seat my dear. It is a rather long story…"