**Author's Note that doesn't really serve a purpose**
No, I do not own the Baudelaires, the talented Mr. Lemony Snicket, or the elusive Beatrice, unfortunately for me. But I suppose the whole purpose of this fanfiction is to pretend for one blissful moment that I am somehow involved with these timeless characters. (SIGH) Oh, and just a side note, I hate paragraphing and I'm terrible at it, so I just broke this up in order to make it easier to read, it's not done well and I know it. That said, on with the show!
For Mr. Snicket, my heart grows fonder as your books grow better.
Beatrice stopped what she was doing and stared into the mirror. Unfortunately for us, we have no clue what she saw there because none of us know what she looks like. She moved her hands up to her hair (assuming she does have some) and clipped it back in an attractive style, away from her face (I hope she has one of those too.) Tonight was the night. He was going to propose tonight! She was going to be the someone's fiancée, a phrase which here means "engaged to be married", a phrase which here means "she was going to be tricked into making a contract that bound her to another person for a very long time."
Jacques Snicket stepped into Beatrice's bedchamber, smiling admiringly at her.
"You look beautiful," he told her.
"Thank you," Beatrice told him formally, although we have no way of knowing if what Jacques was saying was indeed true, as details concerning Beatrice's facial features continue to elude us all.
She twirled around, her skirt flaring out around her. She was wearing pantyhose, but they were transparent enough for one to see the tattoo of an eye on her ankle. Jacques had one too. All of their friends did. Beatrice grabbed Jacques's hand and skipped down the stairs, smiling so hard her face felt like it was about to crack. Jacques was skipping too, but then he realized that he wasn't quite in the mood for such a gay type of walking, and he stopped.
His sudden discontinuation of this movement caused Beatrice to stumble and nearly fall, which would have been an unthinkable catastrophe. Jacque folded his arms as Beatrice checked her mysterious appearance in the mirror again and again. He felt jealousy writhing out of control in his stomach. Beatrice belonged to his brother, and he had never been able to figure out what the illustrious Lemony seemed to have that was so special. Beatrice always said that Lemony's name reminded her of the cleaning agents she used in her small little kitchen, but Jacques couldn't understand why that would make Lemony so special. All he had to do was change his name to Limey, and he too would have a spring-fresh name. He sighed again as Beatrice nervously patted the hair that we hope she had back in to place.
Just then, Lemony walked in backwards, his face hidden under a wide-brimmed hat and his body swathed in a long trench coat. Jacques supposed that Lemony and Beatrice had a very good relationship, as no one knew what either of them looked like. Beatrice walked around to the other side of Lemony and gave him a kiss on the nose, which made him giggle.
Just as Lemony was getting ready to escort Beatrice out the door, there was a knock on it. Beatrice pulled it open, and a dramatic gust of wind rustled the clothing of the person on the doorstep. He too was hidden from view, and Jacques was getting sick of his face being the only naked one. The man on the doorstep had on a gator, as though he were going skiing, and an extremely neat crop of dark hair. His dark eyebrows were knitted together into one, and beneath them were sparkling blue eyes, full of humor and warmth.
"Excuse me," he said in a syrupy voice. "I'm looking for the V.F.D. Have I come to the right place?"
Beatrice found her voice first, smiling at the stranger.
"Why yes. Have you sought us out in order to become a part of our noble organization?"
The stranger nodded, smiling beneath his gator, even though no one could see it.
"I wish to help this group in any way that I possibly can, and I would like to start by joining. How must I go about my initiation?"
"There's really nothing to it," Beatrice promised him. "Just swear an oath to be eternally loyal to us, and get a little tattoo on your ankle. See?" She held up her foot for him to examine, and he took it gingerly, eyeing the eye.
"Does it hurt to get a tattoo?" He asked, sounding quite nervous, not at all like the evil and cold-hearted man he would one day become.
"Not really. Mine got infected and I couldn't walk for about six months because of the swelling, but it was well worth it," Beatrice assured him, smiling.
Jacques sniffed the air. What was that smell? Then he realized what it was. It was the smell of a brand new attraction, and it was coming from the adoring look in Beatrice's eyes, which was magnified tenfold when the stranger removed the obstructing gator.
"My name is Olaf Augustus, Count of El Ojo," he told her grandly, planting a debonair kiss on her presumably pretty hand. Beatrice blushed, meeting the stranger's beautiful eyes with her own. He grinned widely, and Lemony was beginning to smell the same thing his brother Jacques had sensed only moments before. He attempted to usher Beatrice out the door, but the damage had already been done.
"My name is Beatrice," she told the man, not volunteering a last name because as far as we know she doesn't have one. "If you would like to stay here in humble V.F.D. for the night, I could make up a bed for you," she offered, batting the eyelashes I'm presumptuously assuming she did indeed possess.
Lemony was seething, a phrase which here means "was very angry that the stranger had ever come to V.F.D. because he was trying to steal Beatrice from him." Beatrice and Lemony didn't go on their date that night, and secretly Jacques was glad. Even though he knew he could not compete with the mysterious Count of El Ojo, at least his lemon-fresh younger brother couldn't have her either. It wasn't long before Beatrice and the dashing Count were seen everywhere together around V.F.D. If you found one, you found the other. Besides a few bad feelings between the Snicket brothers and the newest member of V.F.D., there was no harm done. That is, until the day that Esme Squalor, whose name was Esme Rifflebean back in those days, came to V.F.D. and destroyed everything the members of that righteous organization had worked so hard to achieve.
**Alrighty guys, let me know what you think and if you would appreciate a continuation, which would include my thoughts on Beatrice, the identity of V.F.D., and the role of Esme Squalor and Count Olaf in the death of the Baudelaire parents. Hope you enjoyed!
No, I do not own the Baudelaires, the talented Mr. Lemony Snicket, or the elusive Beatrice, unfortunately for me. But I suppose the whole purpose of this fanfiction is to pretend for one blissful moment that I am somehow involved with these timeless characters. (SIGH) Oh, and just a side note, I hate paragraphing and I'm terrible at it, so I just broke this up in order to make it easier to read, it's not done well and I know it. That said, on with the show!
For Mr. Snicket, my heart grows fonder as your books grow better.
Beatrice stopped what she was doing and stared into the mirror. Unfortunately for us, we have no clue what she saw there because none of us know what she looks like. She moved her hands up to her hair (assuming she does have some) and clipped it back in an attractive style, away from her face (I hope she has one of those too.) Tonight was the night. He was going to propose tonight! She was going to be the someone's fiancée, a phrase which here means "engaged to be married", a phrase which here means "she was going to be tricked into making a contract that bound her to another person for a very long time."
Jacques Snicket stepped into Beatrice's bedchamber, smiling admiringly at her.
"You look beautiful," he told her.
"Thank you," Beatrice told him formally, although we have no way of knowing if what Jacques was saying was indeed true, as details concerning Beatrice's facial features continue to elude us all.
She twirled around, her skirt flaring out around her. She was wearing pantyhose, but they were transparent enough for one to see the tattoo of an eye on her ankle. Jacques had one too. All of their friends did. Beatrice grabbed Jacques's hand and skipped down the stairs, smiling so hard her face felt like it was about to crack. Jacques was skipping too, but then he realized that he wasn't quite in the mood for such a gay type of walking, and he stopped.
His sudden discontinuation of this movement caused Beatrice to stumble and nearly fall, which would have been an unthinkable catastrophe. Jacque folded his arms as Beatrice checked her mysterious appearance in the mirror again and again. He felt jealousy writhing out of control in his stomach. Beatrice belonged to his brother, and he had never been able to figure out what the illustrious Lemony seemed to have that was so special. Beatrice always said that Lemony's name reminded her of the cleaning agents she used in her small little kitchen, but Jacques couldn't understand why that would make Lemony so special. All he had to do was change his name to Limey, and he too would have a spring-fresh name. He sighed again as Beatrice nervously patted the hair that we hope she had back in to place.
Just then, Lemony walked in backwards, his face hidden under a wide-brimmed hat and his body swathed in a long trench coat. Jacques supposed that Lemony and Beatrice had a very good relationship, as no one knew what either of them looked like. Beatrice walked around to the other side of Lemony and gave him a kiss on the nose, which made him giggle.
Just as Lemony was getting ready to escort Beatrice out the door, there was a knock on it. Beatrice pulled it open, and a dramatic gust of wind rustled the clothing of the person on the doorstep. He too was hidden from view, and Jacques was getting sick of his face being the only naked one. The man on the doorstep had on a gator, as though he were going skiing, and an extremely neat crop of dark hair. His dark eyebrows were knitted together into one, and beneath them were sparkling blue eyes, full of humor and warmth.
"Excuse me," he said in a syrupy voice. "I'm looking for the V.F.D. Have I come to the right place?"
Beatrice found her voice first, smiling at the stranger.
"Why yes. Have you sought us out in order to become a part of our noble organization?"
The stranger nodded, smiling beneath his gator, even though no one could see it.
"I wish to help this group in any way that I possibly can, and I would like to start by joining. How must I go about my initiation?"
"There's really nothing to it," Beatrice promised him. "Just swear an oath to be eternally loyal to us, and get a little tattoo on your ankle. See?" She held up her foot for him to examine, and he took it gingerly, eyeing the eye.
"Does it hurt to get a tattoo?" He asked, sounding quite nervous, not at all like the evil and cold-hearted man he would one day become.
"Not really. Mine got infected and I couldn't walk for about six months because of the swelling, but it was well worth it," Beatrice assured him, smiling.
Jacques sniffed the air. What was that smell? Then he realized what it was. It was the smell of a brand new attraction, and it was coming from the adoring look in Beatrice's eyes, which was magnified tenfold when the stranger removed the obstructing gator.
"My name is Olaf Augustus, Count of El Ojo," he told her grandly, planting a debonair kiss on her presumably pretty hand. Beatrice blushed, meeting the stranger's beautiful eyes with her own. He grinned widely, and Lemony was beginning to smell the same thing his brother Jacques had sensed only moments before. He attempted to usher Beatrice out the door, but the damage had already been done.
"My name is Beatrice," she told the man, not volunteering a last name because as far as we know she doesn't have one. "If you would like to stay here in humble V.F.D. for the night, I could make up a bed for you," she offered, batting the eyelashes I'm presumptuously assuming she did indeed possess.
Lemony was seething, a phrase which here means "was very angry that the stranger had ever come to V.F.D. because he was trying to steal Beatrice from him." Beatrice and Lemony didn't go on their date that night, and secretly Jacques was glad. Even though he knew he could not compete with the mysterious Count of El Ojo, at least his lemon-fresh younger brother couldn't have her either. It wasn't long before Beatrice and the dashing Count were seen everywhere together around V.F.D. If you found one, you found the other. Besides a few bad feelings between the Snicket brothers and the newest member of V.F.D., there was no harm done. That is, until the day that Esme Squalor, whose name was Esme Rifflebean back in those days, came to V.F.D. and destroyed everything the members of that righteous organization had worked so hard to achieve.
**Alrighty guys, let me know what you think and if you would appreciate a continuation, which would include my thoughts on Beatrice, the identity of V.F.D., and the role of Esme Squalor and Count Olaf in the death of the Baudelaire parents. Hope you enjoyed!