Hello Friends! I actually completed a story. It's a one shot but oh well. I wrote this for the APH Rare Pair week on Tumblr (#aphrpw) because these two need more love. I'm not the best writer but I hope you'll still enjoy this.
Despite the mild spring weather, Marianne had become rather hot in the ballroom. She interrupted her dance with her fiancé to pull out her fan and cool herself off. She was used to attention but tonight had been overwhelming. She knew everyone's thoughts were on her and Arthur, trying to plan out every detail of their future life together. They were to have "the wedding of the year" according to the newspapers. All of it made her uncomfortable. It was as if she were an object. Arthur stood by her side as she attempted to get herself under control.
"What is the matter with you?" He questioned in an annoyed tone. "Stand up straight! This is our night, look presentable will you?" Her only response was to eye him with disdain.
Arthur had matured on the outside. But he could still behave like a little brat.
"I'm sorry I feel ill. Please allow me to go freshen up, mon cher." She said in an icy tone with a fake smile plastered across her face.
Marianne removed her other hand from his grasp rather sharply and headed toward the powder room. She was tired of playing this game. Of appearing like she loved Arthur when in reality she couldn't stand him. He was egotistical and cruel. He only seemed to gain entertainment from insulting others. Especially her. But she had no choice. Her family threatened to disown her if she did not go through with the marriage.
Oh the joys of being a socialite.
She made her way down the soft-lit hallway toward the bathroom. Suddenly, a pair of long arms appeared from one of the private rooms and proceeded to drag her in. She put up a brief struggle with the masked attacker before being flung on a chaise. The kidnapper had his back to her while he locked the door. Despite her heavy ball gown, Marianne was quick to get back on her feet. The Frenchwoman charged. She extended her fist to land a punch. But, he turned around in the nick of time to catch her fist with his bare hand.
"Cheeky as always." He murmured, followed by a small chuckle.
One that was all-too familiar to the French woman.
The room was dim but the moonlight from the window helped illuminate his features more. The tall stature, alabaster skin, forest green eyes and the flaming red hair. He had matured slightly and had grown a beard but she still recognized him.
"Rory?" she croaked, her voice filled with anxiety.
No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. He couldn't be here. Not now.
"The one and only." He answered in his charming Scottish accent.
Upon speaking he untied the navy blue mask covering part of his face, letting it fall to the ground. There was no doubt in Marianne's mind anymore. Rory Kirkland was standing in front of her. No dreams, no illusions. The man who was supposed to be dead was well alive and breathing. Without another word, she threw herself into his arms, desperate to feel his warmth. He in turn wrapped his arms around her and began rubbing her back as she began to sob. They stayed like that for an endless amount of time before Marianne spoke.
"You were supposed to be dead." She said in between sobs.
There had been a boating accident 3 years ago that had supposedly taken the oldest heir to the Kirkland's fortune. She still remembers everything so vividly that it sent a shiver down her spine.
"I never got on." He responded softly. "I fell ill that day and decided not to go. I had planned on going the next day but my condition worsened. I was on the verge of death. And I was too weak to send my family letters. It would have been hard considering I was on the other side of the world, dearie."
Marianne held him tighter upon hearing his story, afraid he would leave her again.
"But I'm alright now. Healthy as a horse." He gave her smile, urging her to cheer up. "When did you turn so soft?" He teased.
"People change in 3 years' time."
There was a hidden edge to her words but Rory chose to ignore it. An awkward silence passed before she continued.
"Mon dieu. You're alive. We must tell your family. I'm sure Arthur-"
"No." He interjected swiftly. He blocked the door with his body. "Don't tell them."
"And why not?" she questioned, crossing her arms in defiance.
"They have a right to know. Don't you want your life back? Your family? Your friends?"
"No. I don't. I want nothing to do with this shallow life anymore. I want to be free to live my life how I want. And I won't be able to do that if they know I'm alive."
Marianne looked upon him in utter confusion.
"Have you gone mad?"
"No dearie, you said it yourself. People change in 3 years' time. The only reason I came tonight is for the one thing I cherish the most in my life. You."
And then his lips met hers. Marianne returned the kiss and deepened it while running her hands through his ginger hair. They only stopped to regain their breath.
So he still could make her heart flutter after all this time. Rory cupped her cheek before talking again.
"Marianne, run away with me. Tonight. We can start a new life together. I know a man who can grant us safe passage upon his boat. We'll go somewhere far away from here." His eyes were so intense. They refused to let her go.
"B-but, I've already agreed to marry your stepbrother." The young woman stuttered. "I can't just leave now."
He let go of her face before sighing in frustration.
"Bloody hell. What do you mean you can't leave? Don't tell me you love him."
"I don't." She spat bitterly. "But my life now is—"
"Safe." He finished for her.
"You're too afraid to live without luxury. So scared that you're not going to be sleeping on silk sheets every night? God, when are you going to take chances? When are you going to stop letting others control your life?"
Marianne paused before replying. He was right. When was she going to be true to herself? She looked down at her hands and immediately spotted the impressive engagement ring on her left ring finger. The source of her current conflict. She held up her hand, letting the moonlight catch the diamond. And in one swift movement, she plucked the ring from her finger and threw it on the ground. She gave a sigh of relief before meeting Rory's eyes.
"I'm ready when you are."
They ran away that night, never to return to their old lives. No regrets, no fears. And Marianne couldn't have been happier.
I fail at writing character dialogue, orz. Also, no offense to England lovers. Sorry, he just happened to be a butthole in this story.
I have been thinking about the Great Gatsby recently so that may have influenced this a little.