Will Schuester woke with a start, the sharp knocking on his door startling him out of him dreams. He quickly dressed, opening the door and finding his manservant, a short, stout, tanned man with a last name that reminded Will of foliage, waiting for him. When his manservant began explaining, Will felt his heart seize up in his chest.
As he walked down the hall, Will considered the possibilities. It wasn't possible it was someone attempting to be an imposter. This wasn't a city where con men convinced orphaned girls to pretend for a monetary reward, the people of Marcel were just as heartbroken at Lucy's disappearance as the royal family. It was possible it was an outsider, but what would they be after? Riches? Fame? There was, of course, the option it was actually her, but Will couldn't allow himself to think that. It had been seventeen years. He had all but given up on a family reunion.
And yet, as he walked into the large foyer, a spark of hope bloomed in his chest. As the blonde girl turned, staring at him with an expression that was both nervous and expectant, Will felt like someone had smacked him in the chest. There it all was. The blonde hair that had both baffled and bemused Shelby, the grace in her stance, the look in her eyes, it was all so much his wife that Will had no choice but to stagger forward, reaching for her.
"You…you're…" He whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek.
"I'm your daughter." She murmured, collapsing into his chest. His arms wrapped around her, he buried his face in his hair, and she shook in his arms, both of them openly sobbing, clutching each other tightly.
"You remember me," Quinn said, pulling away to stare up at him. Will smiled through his tears and nodded.
"You have your mother's eyes." He explained, both of them pausing for a moment, the shadow of her death hanging heavily over them. "She would have been so proud of you," Will whispered, pain streaking his voice, but a smile on his face. Quinn's heart lurched, aching for the mother she would never know. Both of them were unaware of the door creaking open, a silhouette sneaking in. The unmistakable noise of a sword was drawn, and Russell Fabray stepped out of the shadows. Immediately, Will pushed Quinn behind him, his arm outstretched in front of her.
"Russell." The king's voice was tinged with fatigue. "My old friend. Why have you returned?" Russell stepped forward, the gleam of a nearby lantern flickering off his sword, casting shadows on his face that illuminated the crazed look in his eye.
"I have come to get revenge, William." His voice was low, strained, like he was holding back emotions he didn't dare let loose.
"I won't let you take her from me again." Will growled, and Russell chuckled darkly.
"I'm afraid nothing you can do will stop me, old friend." Russell spat the term of endearment back at Will like it was acidic, and the king flinched, providing Russell with the opportunity to strike, his sword swinging quickly through the air. His sword sliced forward, the terrifying noise of metal through flesh bouncing off the castle walls. Quinn looked in horror, a soft whimper escaping her lips.
"Judy," Russell sounded stunned, pulling his sword out of his wife. She staggered backward, and as Quinn rushed forward to catch her, Will rushed forward at Russell, throwing his weight against the other man, Russell's head hitting the stone walls with a sickening crack. Will stepped backward, a cool expression masking his torrential emotions. "I'll go get the guard," he murmured, leaving Quinn alone with her mother. The blonde kneeled on the floor, cradling her mother's head in her lap. The large gash in her stomach was only growing, and as the blood seeped across Judy's dress, Quinn felt their time being cut short.
"Please don't go," Quinn whispered, feeling guilt for every time she had lashed out at Judy. They hadn't parted on good terms, and when Judy smiled weakly, Quinn felt the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes.
"I wasn't the mother you deserved," Judy said softly, her voice strained. "But you were the daughter I needed." Quinn shook her head quickly, tears dripping off her cheek.
"Don't say that," she sobbed, cradling Judy close. "You were the only mother I knew." Judy inhaled sharply, wincing as she shifted, and despite Quinn's best effort to keep her comfortable, Judy let out a soft noise of complaint. She waved away Quinn's attempts to help her, reaching to her side and pulling out a medium-sized dagger, handing it to Quinn.
"I know you know how to use this." Judy whispered. It was true. When Quinn was younger, around ten or twelve, Russell had taken it upon himself to teach Quinn how to defend herself. He had said it was in the case of an intruder while Judy and Russell were away, but the lessons ended shortly after Russell discovered that Quinn had a knack for knife fighting. Quinn wrapped her hand around the hilt, surprised to discover that it fit quite well. "You will need it." The daughter looked down at her mother, whose eyes were already closing.
"Please don't leave me," Quinn begged, dropping the dagger by her side. The ends of Judy's lips curled into a smile, and Quinn realized that she looked happier than she ever had at home.
"You don't need me anymore." With that, Judy let out her final breath, settling against Quinn's lap. Quinn kneeled over her, sobs wracking her body. Twice in ten minutes she was crying, once for gaining her family and once for losing it. She couldn't believe it. Her father, Russell, her kidnapper, had yanked her away from her first family and destroyed any semblance of her second. Rage quickly overtook her sorrow, and she turned just in time to see him staggering toward her, sword in hand. The metal screamed as it sliced through the air, and Quinn managed to move just in time, rolling to the side, letting go of Judy and hitting the floor quickly. The sword bounced off the floor, and Quinn lunged for her dagger, fingers grasping around the hilt. She turned toward Russell, eyes blazing.
Finn leaped off Maximus, not even pausing to tie him up. He knew his horse wouldn't run off, but his horse wasn't his main concern. As he ran across the drawbridge, the sight of the guards slumped against each other, unconscious at best, caused him to falter. If his gut was right, Quinn's father was responsible, and from what Quinn had told him, he wasn't someone to be left alone with. He ran into the castle, taking the stairs two at a time. "Please be okay," he whispered, the faint sounds of a fight floating down from above him.
Quinn let out a shout, charging toward Russell, dagger held firmly in her extended hand. Their weapons clashed in the middle, scraping against each other. They continued to exchange blows, Quinn pushing Russell back with each step forward, and he let out a frenzied noise, lurching backwards. Quinn's chest was heaving, each breath a reason to keep going. "This is for Mother," Quinn hissed, slashing at Russell. He moved out of the way, but Quinn kept advancing, her dagger flying. "This is for Sam," she shouted, darting forward, the tip of her dagger ripping Russell's outer coat. "And this is for me!"
A scream erupted from above Finn, causing him to trip. He scrambled to gain his balance, the only thought floating through his head, Quinn. He clumsily righted himself, heart thundering in his chest. "Quinn!" He shouted, drawing his own sword and charging up the stairs. His own safety be damned, he needed to get to Quinn.
Russell held Quinn against the wall by her throat, one of his hands pressed against her windpipe, the other holding the sword teasingly against her neck. "You slipped away from me twice," he growled, a wild smile appearing on his lips. "I refuse to let it happen again." Quinn struggled for breath, her hands wriggling by her sides. She felt the hilt of her dagger, the feel of it giving her a bit of comfort. The weapon was lifted, and blood was drawn.
What scared Finn the most was the absolute silence that fell. The scream pierced the air, but the silence blanketed it, making Finn worry that his fall had damaged his hearing. He leaped to the top of the landing, shoving the heavy wooden door aside. The sight in front of him weakened his knees, and he leaned against the doorframe, vision going hazy.
It was like being back at the Fabray home. Furniture was overturned, and damage was obvious, a trail of destruction ripped through the room. The only difference was here, blood lined the trail, splashed against the walls and the floor like a violent painting, a bloody homage to whatever fights had happened. And there, at the end of one of the trails, lay a frail, small, blonde figure, a pool of blood circling her middle. Finn fell to his knees, gasping for breath. "Quinn," he managed to croak out, her name falling from his lips like a prayer to the heavens. He couldn't believe it. He was too late. It didn't matter what happened to him now. He would accept death gratefully, greet it like an old friend, embrace whatever violent end Russell had waiting for him. Quinn was dead. He had no ties here anymore.
"Finn?" A tiny voice from somewhere to his left called out. For a second, he wondered if he was imagining it, but as he looked, he realized it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him. Her hair was raggedly cut, and she looked shook up, but there, relatively unharmed and very much alive, stood Quinn. He wasn't sure when he moved, or if she moved for him, but she was suddenly in his arms, her fingers pressed against the back of his neck like he was a lifeline. He clung to her, quivering as he felt her heartbeat play a beautiful melody. I'm alive, each thump seemed to say. I'm here.
"You're not dead," Finn murmured, almost in disbelief.
"What are you doing here?" Quinn whispered into his skin, unable to let go of him. Two days ago, she was sure she would never see him again, and now, he was here, warm and solid and so, so present. Finn pulled away enough to look at her, checking for injuries.
"Sam told me you were in danger." Finn said, brushing her bangs out of her face. His fingers trailed down her cheek, stopping at her chin, where her hair now ended. He raised an eyebrow, and she glanced down, almost as surprised as he was to see the long braid gone.
"My fath – Russell – he must have cut it off when I…" she trailed off, looking to her right, the lifeless body of her kidnapper slumped against the wall. "He killed my mother, Finn," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. He gently pressed her to his chest, letting her break down in his arms. Murmuring soft words of comfort, he pressed kisses to the top of her head, waiting patiently for her to let it out. When she choked out her last sob, she looked up at him again, eyes searching his face.
"Why did you come here?" She whispered, her hand finding his. He smiled slightly, bringing their hands up, kissing her knuckles softly. The gesture seemed so foreign in this setting, and Quinn thanked whoever was looking out for her that Russell had not taken this away from her, too.
"I had to come, Quinn." He began, warm brown eyes meeting confused hazel. "Sam told me you were in danger, and I – I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. You can spend your whole life searching, because you feel like something is missing. And…I realized it wasn't something I was searching for. It was someone." He paused, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips, inhaling before continuing. "I was searching for you. I love you, Quinn. I don't want to live a day without you." She was silent for a moment, and Finn was sure she could hear the pounding of his heart.
"I love you too," she breathed, and he exhaled, almost laughing with relief. Without hesitation, he surged forward, cupping her cheek and kissing her again, relishing in the fact that he could, just because he wanted to. As their lips met, a silent promise was passed from person to person, from soul to soul. They were connected now. He would follow her to the ends of the earth, and she knew he would always be there. They were made for each other, two halves of a whole, and nothing would ever tear them apart again. He was sure she could feel his smile, because he could feel hers, and in that moment, everything was alright, because they had each other.
As they broke apart, the door on the far end of the room swung open, and Will, flanked by three guards, walked in quickly. Finn rose, helping Quinn up before bowing to the king.
"Father," she breathed, stepping toward him. The parental term rolled off her tongue. It felt odd, addressing someone who wasn't Russell with that title, but the look on Will's face made it worthwhile. He looked almost joyful. His daughter had returned. His family was safe. "It's okay." Quinn added, looking at Finn. Will glanced around, respite allowing his shoulders to slump. He glanced over her head, looking at Finn, raising his eyebrows questioningly.
"This is Finn, Father, he's my…" Quinn faltered, unsure of what to say. Before Finn could step in with an answer, the door nearest to the prince flew open. All six people in the room turned, eyes landing on the pair in the doorway.
"What did we miss?" Sam asked, peeking over Kurt's shoulder.
