Author's Note:
This story is also being posted on Ao3.
Read these notes if you want to know a little bit about the world I will be building this story around, changes have been made from Wildbow's original Parahumans series. If you would prefer to just dive in, skip these notes and enjoy. Please do leave feedback and the longest thing I have written in years are formal university essays. Apologies for the short first chapter, more will hopefully follow. As a side note: I am English. Therefore, while this story is still primarily set in America, English terminology will be used and English pronunciation should be considered when reading this. I did consider doing the research necessary to write this with American English and American terminology but to be perfectly honest, I don't have the energy and I prefer my native tongue. Minor SPOILER ALERT: 1) There is no Scion in this story. As far as I am concerned, Scion was killed by his grief when he lost control in the aftermath of Eden's death. 2) Brockton Bay is a bigger city than it is in cannon and has more capes. 3) More to be added here later as things develop.
Sunday 3rd March 2009
"Taylor! Dinner is almost ready, please come down and set the table!"
Taylor finished her sentence before looking up from her homework, "Coming Mother!" She was careful, as always, not to raise her voice too much. As much as she might want to, shouting at Julianna would not end well for her. In all honesty, it was difficult to justify shouting at her step-mother, even in the privacy of her own mind. The woman was nice enough. She loved her husband, she was a good housewife, and devoted to what she believed in. Yet despite all of that, and in defiance of what she had been taught, Taylor could not help but dislike her.
It was not that she was angry at her for trying to replace her real mother, it was only natural that the new lady of the house should want to fulfil all aspects of her duties. Nor was it that she hated the fact that her Father had moved on. She didn't. She understood that after almost three years, it was only natural for him to want some companionship at home other than his daughter. It wasn't even that she had just come home one day to find her father passionately kissing the woman in the kitchen, having never even mentioned his new romantic interest.
No. What grated above all else, the one thing that really made her blood boil, was having to call her Mother. Annette Hebert was dead. No one could replace her. Taylor had initially tried calling her Julianna and Julie, as her Father did. Unfortunately, her father had put a stop to that in short order. He wanted his new wife to be the mother of his teenaged daughter, and, in his own words, he was not prepared to allow her 'misguided teenage rebelliousness' to 'disrupt family life'. Thus, it had come to pass that Taylor called Julie, 'Mother', or Ma'am. After all, Taylor was a good girl, a good daughter, and it was important for her to obey her father's wishes and support his endeavours. Her teachers had been very, very clear on the subject and had taken a great deal of time and effort to reinforce that particular lesson.
She stood from her chair and took a moment to make sure that everything was in order. Her room was neat. The bed was made, her clothes were demure but attractive, and her shoes were free of dirt. Satisfied, Taylor made her way down the stairs towards the kitchen, enjoying as she did so, the house's general lack of disrepair, and the soft tinkling of classical music emanating from below.
In the kitchen, she found her mother's blond ponytail bouncing up and down as she put the finishing touches to the evening's Sunday roast, complete with an unusually large array of side dishes. Staying as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, Taylor went about collecting the things she needed and placing them on a tray. A short balancing act later and she was arranging knives, forks and spoons neatly next to one another on the table in the next room, accompanied by glasses and jugs filled with water, fruit juice, and (at her mother's prompting) an unopened bottle of wine.
Once everything was ready, she returned to the kitchen, standing just inside the door with her back straight and her hands clasped in front of her.
After a few minutes, a spitting joint of beef was retrieved form the oven and her mother turned to her.
"I'm just about ready here dear, why don't you go and fetch Danny from his study for me?"
She nodded in acquiescence, and made her way through the house, glancing as she did so at the pictures decorating the corridor that bisected the ground floor. Pictures of the docks, of her father's friends, of her new family. Almost nothing dating back more than a few years. At the end of the corridor, she paused outside the thick door leading to the house's office. She forced herself to breath. In. Out. In. Out. When she knocked, she had to make sure to do so hard, or else it would go unheard.
After a moment, the door was opened by a tall, muscular man in a suit. "Ah, Taylor, good evening. Your father and I were just talking about you."
Surprised, she took a moment to respond. A moment too long judging by the slight look of disappointment on his face. She hated that expression. It filled her with self-loathing. It was a reminder of her failings and brought back memories of the time she had spent in Europe over the Summer.
"Oh, good evening sir, I didn't know you were here." She put on her best polite smile for him, "Mother wanted me to tell Father that dinner is ready. Will you be joining us?"
She received a soft smile in return as the man stepped backwards into the room, ushering her a step inside as he did so. To her left, her Father was sat in one of the comfortable armchairs by the window, a small glass of beer in his hand. As expected, he offered no word of greeting despite not having seen her since he left for work in the morning.
"I've just invited James here to dinner, I thought that we should take pity on him while Sarah is away this weekend. We have to make sure he eats at least one decent meal, can't have him falling asleep on business can we now?" His wiry frame shook as he offered the room a gentle chuckle, along with a not so subtle smirk towards his friend who had moved over to the other side of the room to retrieve his own beer.
Taylor hovered at the edge of the room with her hands held neatly behind her back, her head bowed slightly. "No Father. That would be most unfortunate."
He gave her an indulgent look, obviously pleased with her response. She didn't really understand why. It wasn't as though she had said anything remarkable. Her Father stood, drained the last of his beer, made a 'lead on' gesture towards James and gave Taylor a gentle pat of the back before strolling towards the dining room.
With a slight sigh that she did her best to suppress, and a quick sideways glance at the flag on the wall, Taylor followed.