I hope you guys like it! This is my second Sweeney fic. so let me know if it's any good!
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sweeny Todd. I do own my originaal character.
Nadia Todd was an accident. She believed the rumors, well, most of them. The gossip always about London was that she had a demon father and the Devil's wife as a mother. They had gotten a bit happy with the gin one night and nine months later she was born. Her father wasn't really in love with her mother, but they were business partners. He murdered men to get revenge on a Judge Turpin for taking his wife from him, and her mother baked the bodies into meat pies. One night her father had accidentally killed his half crazy wife and was so mad he pushed her mother into a furnace. After doing so, he supposedly wept before his dead wife, and some little bastard slit the poor man's throat. She believed this much, except that she didn't believe that her parents were all bad. Her mother had truly loved the man who fathered her first and only child. She had cared enough to keep her pregnancy hidden and send Nadia off to the workhouse for safety. She had cared enough about her to leave the workhouse members a note as well.
"This lovely little girl is Nadia Todd, please do not change her name. 'Nadia' means aquatic. Take care of her please, I never really wanted to let her go."
Her mother had loved the sea, she could tell. Along with a name that meant 'aquatic' she had left Nadia with a necklace made of polished and broken seashells. It was her prized possession and she never took it off. She also kept the note that was left with her. The parchment was torn, but the calligraphy was beautiful and the midnight blue of the ink entranced her. She decided after eighteen years, it was time to return home.
Nadia stood on the deserted corner of Fleet Street. She had the eye coloring of her mother, but there was a coldness beyond them that was a distinct trait of her father. Her hair looked much like her mother's, but it fell in very loose ringlets and was left down at all times except when she was at the seaside. In appearance she was very much reminiscent of her mother, but emotionally she was most definitely her father's daughter. She wore a deep purple silk dress with small sleeves and a fitted black bodice. Her dainty black shoes clicked on the cobblestone as she crossed to the old pie shop. She had been making her way in life with some pastries she had come up with. She felt a certain closeness to her mother when she baked, it was almost like she was there helping her. Opening the door, the saw the shop in just the condition it was left in. No one would even go near it, much less go in to loot it. She had seen many a man cross the street and continue on rather than cross in front of the shop itself. She ran a finger along the dusty counter top. The parlor was dusty too, then again, the entire place seemed to have a coating of the stuff. She stopped short and tears began to well in her eyes as she stood in front of her mother's bedroom door. She knew the last person in here would have been her mother before she died and everything would be just as she had left it. She turned the knob with caution, and entered.
The bed was made and a faded shade of blue. It must have been a reminder of the blue waters of the sea for her mother. There was a small vanity in the corner with a cracked mirror and many hairpins on the surface of the table portion. She pushed a yellowed white curtain away to find a sort of closet. There was a trunk filled with mothballs and beautiful dresses. She had to leave this room though, the pain was too great at the moment. She walked outside again and began to climb the old stairs that went up to her father's shop.
An old bell greeted her and she slowly entered. Looking around, she noticed the large chair in the center, a table with a small box, and broken mirror towards the back, and a small shelf with an empty vase sitting all by its lonesome. She wandered to the chair and before sat down, she accidentally stepped on the pedal at the base of it. The old chair snapped backwards as a trap door opened behind it. Slightly startled, she looked down the door into a chute with apparently led to a basement. The chair soon lifted back up and looked normal again, but Nadia wouldn't be sitting in it for a while. She made her way to the box on the table in the back. She picked it up and brushed off the dust before opening it. It was beautifully crafted out of mahogany it looked like. She took a deep breath before opening the box, she already knew what was probably inside. Lifting the lid, silver gleamed and caught her eye. She smiled a little before opening it the rest of the way. Yes, there they were. Her father's razors. One was missing though, and she knew exactly where it was. It was on the waist of that smug little bastard Tobias. He always kept it with him as sort of a trophy. She picked a razor out of the faded red felt that held them so neatly. She flicked it open and it caught what little light there was in the room. This wasn't the end of her family. She would get Tobias and have her revenge. The cycle had begun again.