Was there really any doubt as to what Faustus' familiar would be?
XXXX
With young Judas cradled carefully in one strong arm from which his cane also hung, Faustus made his presence at Mortimer Manor's front door known with the large brass knocker carved to look like a wolf. The house was one of the largest in Greendale and sat on the very edge of town. Very few people – certainly no mortals – were aware but the house had actually been there before the town. It looked as though a Victorian Manor house had been picked up from England and sat down there in the middle of America; out of place but right at home all at the same time. If one were to see the house from an aerial view it would look something like a lemniscate symbol with a jet black roof and the west side of the house was covered in ivy. The window frames and large front door almost appeared to be made of onyx and arched in what could only be described as a staccato way. The brick had darkened over the years but didn't appear dirty despite how little occupation the house got after the Mortimer massacre.
Truthfully, Faustus was impressed by the house. He'd not been there in many years, not since Gray had been a student of his and frankly it hardly looked different. A wreath of sticks and berries with a pentagram in the centre hung on the door and he couldn't help but notice the way Judas watched it curiously as they waited for the door to be answered.
When he saw the door handle turn Faustus pushed away the thought that this was a bad idea away and stood tall.
"Good evening, Father." Thorn smiled at him as soon as the door was open.
"Thank you, Thorn."
The High Priest stepped inside out of the cold and delighted in the warmth he felt. Thorn beamed when he asked her to hold Judas so as he could remove his overcoat and hang it up. There was such love in her eyes for his son as she rocked him gently, Faustus watched her, couldn't resist. Suddenly a large, black fox hopped up from behind the young witch and onto her shoulder to see the babe and Faustus just stood there taking in the delectable sight. Thorn wore a beautiful burgundy dress in a Victorian style with puffed cap sleeves and a small bow on the front, the dress stopped just above her knee and had a court neckline that just teased him with her breasts. With Judas cuddled close to her and her familiar on her shoulder Thorn looked the perfect image of witch motherhood. Oh how he wanted to take her there and then.
Eventually Thorn glanced back up at him with that stunning smile.
"You remember my familiar, Caligari." She said with a slight not towards the fox on her shoulder.
"Indeed I do." He planted his cane between his feet and it was only then that Thorn noticed a small black nose and a set of golden eyes remarkably similar to Caligari's own. Faustus stepped a little to the side. "This is Ostara."
Emerald orbs flashed down Faustus' legs until the stunning creature came into full view beside his feet. There sat a large black Hare with big ears and what had to be the cutest nose she'd ever seen. The animal was actually quite adorable which seemed odd somehow when one considered Ostara was Faustus' familiar; the two didn't seem to correlate.
"She's gorgeous."
Caligari hopped down then to investigate the new familiar in his midst. He'd lived with a bat, a snake and a hawk in the Mortimer Manor before the Witch Hunters had... done what they did but since then he'd been lonely; especially since Thorn spent so much time at the Academy of Unseen Arts. He sniffed at the Hare inquisitively as the witches watched.
"Well, they seem to get along nicely." Said Thorn.
"Yes." Faustus remarked simply so as he had something to say.
"Come on through to the salon. There's a nice warm fire and my Uncle Kylian arrived a short while ago."
The High Priest followed the young witch – who still held his son – through into the next room where he felt the warmth from the promised fireplace; oh how he needed that. With a wave of his hand Faustus conjured up Judas' crib and Thorn happily set the Blackwood heir down gently then turned to face the dark-haired warlock with a smile on her black lips.
"Can I offer you anything to drink? I have quite the array of fine liquor."
Faustus didn't even need to think about it. "Scotch."
"Coming up. Please, sit and make yourself at home."
So Faustus did, he took a seat in a leather armchair near his son and opposite Kylian Gethic. They nodded to one another in greeting as Faustus rested his cane against the arm and Ostara hopped up into his lap; she'd been with him so many years and frankly that familiar was a part of him just as they all were to their witches.
"Good evening, Father. So glad you could join us." Said Kylian with a pleasant smile.
Over the blonde's left shoulder stood the large Yule Tree that had been beautifully decorated while over the right was a large perch for and even larger owl of black and dark grey. Most owls looked regal, this one seemed as though it loomed.
"Yes, well, when Thorn so happily invited me how could I refuse?" He told Kylian in that deep voice of his.
"Let me introduce you to Ásvaldr, my familiar." He gestured to the large owl. "He's a Verreaux's Eagle-Owl, has a wing span of over four feet."
Bragging about one's own familiar. How hubristic. Faustus mentally sighed as he petted Ostara's head softly, she nuzzled into his touch as she always did.
"I should have expected a Hare." Kylian said a moment later over the crackle of the fire. "Especially after I saw that cane of yours. What's his name?"
"Her. And her name is Ostara."
Thorn chose that moment to return with a glass of scotch in a crystal glass and another glass of blood colored wine for her uncle.
"Here you are, Father." Thorn smiled as she passed him the glass that he accepted fondly before she turned to the blonde. "And another for you Uncle."
"Thank you, niece."
The young witch took a seat and sipped at her own drink. Faustus couldn't help but rake his eyes over her beautiful skin, pale and soft.
"I trust all went well in England for you, Mister Gethic." The High Priest enquired to be polite; not that he was often concerned with politeness.
The blonde witch nodded. "Kylian, please. And yes, Father, all went utterly swimmingly. Thank you. I must admit England does keep me busy, sometimes more than I'd like. However, I expect that you fully understand all that."
"Indeed." Faustus responded easy before he took a sip of his scotch. "Still, we all have work to do. Each have our duties."
The evening progressed much like that. The three of them made conversation as Judas slept happily in his crib. Thorn got up every now and again to check on the child while Faustus continued to pet Ostara's fluffy black head and Kylian sipped at his wine. There was clearly a slight level of tension between the two men but they kept it civil and Thorn knew how to make a pleasant evening of the solstice.
Hours past and they ate, lit the Yule log then settled down to tell scary stories. Faustus had been rather impressed with Thorn's, she had quite the talent for atmosphere; a very lyrical voice. Once her turn ended Thorn offered them all refills on their drinks and vanished off to the kitchen to do just that.
"She's a good little cook, isn't she." Kylian mused.
"Indeed." Came Faustus' easy response. "Very good."
The blonde nodded to himself. "Yes, women should really just raise children, they're weak when it comes to power and mortal women are even worse. Don't misunderstand me, Father, my niece is a very smart young witch but-" He trailed off to let Blackwood fill in the blank.
Normally he'd have agreed, in Faustus' opinion female witches weren't nearly as powerful as male ones. However, he'd not stand for Kylian Gethic of all people likening Thorn to a mortal!
"A man who thinks women should remain in the kitchen clearly doesn't know what to do with them in the bedroom." Was the only response Faustus gave and it was in a rather sharp tone.
"Uncle Kylian, surely you have a story from all those travels of yours." Thorn smiled when she returned and sat back in her chair once she'd handed them all their drinks.
Kylian flashed his niece a smile and sat forwards in his armchair; eyes shined in the firelight.
"It would be my pleasure, darling niece." There was a momentary pause where Kylian downed what was left of his crimson colored wine and shuffled further forwards in his seat. "I know the perfect one. They're always scarier when they're true."
Thorn tickled Caligari's ear.
"I invite you to give it your best shot, I do not scare easily." Faustus smirked and Thorn adored that tone of his.
"Challenge accepted, Father."
Thorn had missed celebrating the solstice. Usually she just spent the longest night of the year quietly with Caligari, it hadn't ever been depressing exactly just saddening. Sorrowful. Lonely. She could remember the solstice with her family before her mother had died. Decorating the Yule Tree, lighting the log while her father told tales and she played with her baby brother. Gray had spent every solstice figuring out new ways to make his sister jump. She'd taken those times for granted, of Thorn had ever had even the slight inclination she'd lose it all she'd have treasured the time more. Still, Thorn couldn't dwell in her sorrows.
For a moment he reminded Thorn of her mother, Alarya, with all that pale skin and her disarming smile. In truth Thorn looked like her father and brothers what with the dark hair and bold green eyes but Alarya's traits hid away in her daughter's mannerisms.
The fire crackled as the blonde began his story. Caligari bounced over to settle by the fire.
"Long ago, longer now than it seems, at almost year's end, when mortals had only just started to hunt witches, there was a young woman by the name of Martha O'Shea. She, like the other mortals of her village, worshipped the false god. They called her a 'good Christian woman' but like all mortals villages Martha's was weak to hysteria, paranoia and what could only be described as mob mentality. Fear spread through the village like Hellfire with a vendetta when stories of witches arose and, of course, these 'good Christian' people wanted to eradicate the perceived threat to their boring, pathetic lives. Mortals do like to kill all they don't understand. However, to do that they had to burn the witch. Drive it out! There was just one problem; there wasn't a witch in the village. There was a sickness, yes, but it was natural, our kind had nothing to do with it but still we received the blame. The panic was all for naught but still they persisted. For weeks names were shouted around, neighbour accused neighbour and husband feared wife, some were rolled up in the hysteria while others just wanted competitors dead. And they still called themselves 'good Christian people'. Eventually it drew the attention of a warlock most trusted by the Dark Lord and he decided to watch the madness unfold in secret. At night the village would light up and the wind would carry screams of the burning innocents for miles and miles. The smell of ash never left the air. They didn't bury the bodies, as witches they didn't deserve that so instead they simply cast the corpses out onto the river – or at least what was left of them – some drifted missing and some drifted found. Each night this happened but still the villagers would return home, blow out the candle and go to sleep as though all sins were gone; as though husbands weren't unfaithful and wives weren't chugging Carolina swamp juice in secret. Then one fateful day the mortal folk came for young Martha O'Shea, a woman innocent of any crime let alone witchcraft; they were too stupid to realise witches are born and so they bound the irons to her wrists with ire. But still, when she desperately tried to tell her friends, her family, the people she'd known her whole life that fact, that she was no witch, Martha found no aid nor solace, just judgement and hate. No, these people had turned against her out of fear and the mortal urge to kill. They wanted to watch her burn. So one night, just before dawn when only a sliver of red lit the sky, they forewent her trial and strapped Martha to the stake; ears deaf to her pleas. It was then surrounded by so-called friends and loved ones that Martha realised no help would come. No one cared. Then the true realisation came, her god didn't come to save her either... because he wasn't real. Martha learnt that as the fire was lit beneath her and flames licked at her legs while the villagers cheered her death on. She was no witch but all that hate, anger and rage called to the Dark Lord and he came. He was the only one that came. Her god didn't but the Dark Lord did and he gave her the power to curse them all; her soul for wiping out the mortal monsters. For revenge. Vengeance. Martha made the deal, made it willingly and eagerly. She cursed them all, had them murder themselves. Justice. Come dawn all that remained was the smell of smoke and scraps of flesh that had been ripped from bone. They'd torn one another apart piece by agonising piece. Flesh, muscle, bone, nothing remained intact, nothing at all. You see they'd wanted to kill, wanted to destroy and they used the tales of witches as an excuse to do it. Blood soaked into the grass, smoke lingered in the air and a strange silence settled over the land; nothing but birds and deer left. Not long afterwards one of the Dark Lord's most trusted disciples who'd been observing the villagers came across the chaos and death but he wasn't afraid of dead mortals. He found his way through the carnage to the stake and the still smoking remains of Martha O'Shea, and realised the magnitude of what he saw; what had happened. A mortal who'd been granted the power to cast a curse. He scooped up some of the ashes into a metal cup careful not to touch them directly and took it away with him for his research. He became obsessed with the ashes, bound them together into a pearl. Not just any pearl, the most powerful magical object anyone had ever seen. You see the ashes had been imbued with Martha's rage, pain and betrayal and when the disciple formed them into that pearl he concentrated that power. The Pearl was an object of chaos, pure unadulterated chaos. It did not choose between witch and mortal, man or woman, young or old, it simply affected, and it was the disciple's undoing. He caused his own death and destroyed himself. After that The Pearl was lost and it fell into myth and legend amongst witching kind. There have been rumours over the years as to its whereabouts; the pearl with no name created by an unnamed warlock. None of them have ever been corroborated though. Once there was even a rumour that The Pearl was here."
"In Greendale?" Thorn asked almost excitedly.
Kylian tapped the arm of his chair with a long finger. "Yes. Right here in Greendale. Of course there was never any proof and it's not popped up anywhere else since. Truthfully, The Pearl could be anywhere, it could be in this house, it could be on the other size of the world."
Kylian sat back in his chair and reached his hand up to pet Ásvaldr's feathers as the Yule log continued to crackle and burn. Thorn turned to Blackwood who didn't seem overly impressed, then again that was a constant impression for the High Priest of the Church of Night.
"Do you think The Pearl really exists, Father?"
"It is a possibility, yes. There have certainly been occurrences that have happened over the centuries that seem directly related to The Pearl but no proof as your uncle says."
"What does it look like?"
Faustus smiled internally. There she went learning all she could again; was there any wonder Thorn had been his favourite student?
"No one knows exactly." Said the blonde. "Accounts vary. Some say it's an opaque grey orb the side of your fist, others think it appears to be made of glass and lets the light shine through."
"So even if someone did come across it they'd probably not realise what it was."
"Oh, niece, I suspect they'd realise when they picked it up and felt the need to rip the nearest person to shreds." Kylian cleared his throat. "Now, if you will excuse me I am tired and think I'll retire to my room. It was a pleasure, Father. Will you be staying the night?"
"I have a room made up for you, Father, and it will be rather simple to send little Judas up in his crib."
Faustus didn't have to think about it a single moment. "I would be most grateful. Thank you, Thorn."
"Then it's settled. I shall see you in the morning, Father Blackwood. Good evening everyone."
Kylian flashed them both a smile then made his way out of the large room with his owl familiar, Ásvaldr, flapping behind him.
"Night, Uncle." Thorn called out right as the blonde vanished through the door.
Faustus drained what was left of his glass of scotch right as Thorn launched herself at the older man and straddled him with a smile and pressed a kiss to his lips as her arms snaked around his neck; Ostara only just managed to flee Faustus' lap and went to settle by the warm Yule log with Caligari.
"You have just been waiting for your uncle to leave, haven't you, my Dark Angel?"
Dark Angel? He'd never called her that before and Thorn relished in it. It brought a happy smile to her face. Thorn kissed him again, he tasted to scotch, sharp and somehow bitter and sweet all at the same time.
Faustus' hands snaked up Thorn's firm thighs, over the tops of her stockings and came to cup her backside under her burgundy dress. He gave a little squeeze and smirked at the gasp he got in return.
"Why do you always smell so perfect?" The High Priest mused aloud. Thorn just smiled.
"Because I know you like it." She chuckled against the skin of his neck.
Suddenly he rose to his feet and took Thorn with him, her legs wrapped around his waist as she kissed him. One of her hands jutted out towards Judas and the crib and babe vanished upstairs to Faustus' room.
"Play with me?"
Faustus Blackwood was a hard man to kill but he was fairly certain that if anyone could manage it then it would be Thorn. Faustus didn't need to be told twice, he kept a tight grip on her as he made his way through into the vestibule and up the imposing staircase of black and purple.
With a few directions from Thorn Faustus found his way to her bedroom and tossed her down on the large four-poster bed made up in blood colored sheets. It looked antique and frankly Faustus couldn't imagine her room looking anything different. He watched with icy eyes as Thorn stripped herself of her burgundy dress until he had full view of her stunning body in nothing but her underwear and heels. Certainly the only person who stood a chance of killing him. He quickly stripped off his waistcoat and shirt, toed off his shoes and knelt onto the bed over her so as Thorn felt his weight. Faustus could get lost in those emerald orbs, it wouldn't have been hard.
When their lips met in a bruising kiss Thorn suddenly found her wrists pinned down by strong hands; Faustus had a grip that lingered on the border of pain and pleasure. His eyes were dark than she'd ever seen before, not just dark, powerful and bold.
His fingers scurried up her stocking clad thighs and tugged down her panties, Faustus cast them aside as though they offended him leaving the young witch bare to him.
"Stunning, my Dark Angel."
Faustus' eyes caressed her supple body. So beautiful, so perfect, so utterly stunning. Without warning the High Priest yanked Thorn up by her long raven colored hair for a painful kiss. Within seconds he'd slammed her back down in the soft sheets. He pushed her thighs apart to fill the space between them. Faustus shoved her wrists into a single one of his large hands while the other found her dripping core with a teasing smile. So needy.
Normally Faustus would have taken his own sweet time with her in his arms but he'd been sat downstairs with Thorn and her uncle for hours completely unable to touch her. Kylian Gethic had almost driven him mad. He couldn't resist her after all that, his want was too strong. With one sharp thrust buried himself inside her. Had Thorn not registered a sharp sting at the sudden intrusion and lack of preparation she'd have wondered how Faustus had managed to get his charcoal colored pants open so quickly. The hiss of pain gave way rather fast as she revelled in Faustus' clear desperate need for her and Thorn actually found she liked the pain.
The High Priest forced Thorn to arch her back into his touch. Her wrists were pinned above her head as Faustus thrust deep within his darling Dark Angel and locked their lips together, he still tasted of scotch, his usual flavour.
"Please. I need it harder." She told him breathlessly as her legs snaked around the older man's hips to keep him close.
"So needy, my Dark Angel, so perfect." Faustus' grip on Thorn's wrists hurt delightfully. "You always know when I can't resist you, don't you?"
Faustus moaned, he'd got a tight grip on her but she was soon released so as his large hands could find a new home at her throat, he took a second to delight in the sight of her. Thorn clawed at his shoulders desperate to keep him close as her pleasure built.
"Needy little slut." His voice was deep and a little breathless. "You've been teasing me all night with those long legs. Perhaps I should punish you again, it is my prerogative as High Priest."
Thorn gasped, the memory of his cane against her skin lingered.
"Do it. Really do it. I want it."
Faustus fixed his blue eyes on Thorn's amazing green ones, only a shine of dominance filled his.
"No, you would enjoy it and I do not take orders from you."
"But, Faustus-" He cut her off with a tug to her long hair, just harsh enough to startle her but not enough to truly hurt.
"No!" He growled, his thrusts grew erratic for a moment but they didn't stop.
The growl was a deep and guttural one that almost – almost – pushed Thorn over the edge and into the tidal wave that was euphoric bliss. Thorn cried out with want as fingers once again clawed at his shoulders. The young witch's walls quivered down around her former Dean's hard length and Faustus groaned into her neck as his grip on her tightened as he tumbled over the edge and came deep inside her.
Though it no longer applied pressure Faustus still had his hand on Thorn's throat, his girl's hips still searched him out as they rode out the end of their pleasurable highs.
"Faustus, harder. Now!" She muttered in need for her climax. Damn he loved the way she said his name.
The High Priest chuckled darkly as he looked down at her destroyed and debauched face. Faustus pulled her by the back of Thorn's head and crashed their lips together.
"You demanded." He told her sternly. "You don't tell me what to do, I give the orders, my Dark Angel. And naughty little sluts don't get to cum."
Oh it had been a long time since he'd plaid this game so happily.
"Please, Faustus." She begged but Faustus was having none of it.
"No! You need to do as I tell you."
Faustus sat back on his haunches and forced Thorn down onto her knees and pressed her face to clean him off. Thorn made a show of lapping Faustus' seed from his softening length. The older man watched with hunger, his eyes didn't leave his darling Thorn for one single second; he didn't even blink.
When Thorn was done she looked up at the High Priest with the most innocence expression she could and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Big blue eyes sparkled with delight. Thorn bit her lip. Blackwood wasn't stupid, he knew exactly what Thorn was doing, he made her sit there for a time while they just watched one another and then finally, when he could see that Thorn's knees had started to hurt did he pat his knee.
"Come here, Thorn."
Quickly she scrambled to straddle him and cuddled into his strong chest snaked an arm around her while the other rested on her knee.
"What do you do?" He asked, voice deep.
"What you tell me." Responded Thorn as she started to draw little circles on his pectoral.
"What are you?" Oh, if Thorn answered like he wanted there was no telling what he'd do to her in future.
"Yours, Faustus."
"That's my Dark Angel. I think you've earned a treat."
With that Faustus pressed a loving kiss to Thorn's temple as his large hands caressed her and then, without so much as a hint, he threw the young witch back onto the bed where she landed with a thud and conjured up a length of rope to bind her wrists to the posts with. It was ever so slightly too tight and that was just how he wanted it.
"Want your treat?"
Thorn nodded frantically as Faustus slid down her body. He left little kisses and nips up her inner thigh – smooth like porcelain – until he found where Thorn so desperately wanted him.
"Oh Satan!" She gasped loudly completely uncaring as to whether her Uncle Kylian heard her or not.
"Not quite," he smirked "but I appreciate the complement."
He looked at the delicate raven curls of her glistening sex, so wet needy, his mind muttered dominantly before his let his fingers stroke along her folds. She moaned, loud and a little breathless, if Faustus never heard another sound ever again he'd die a happy man; the sound was like music. Thorn was beautiful beneath him, hands curled into fists above her head where they'd been bound, lips parted to let little groans and pants escape as his clever fingers explored her wetness. Thorn had touched herself before but it had never been like this, she'd never felt so desperate for it. Father Blackwood's talented tongue lapped at her wet folds teasingly at first, tormentingly so, but soon that wasn't good enough for him. He brought her to the brink of pleasure and then pulled his tongue away, her eyes flashed with need; with want. Faustus wouldn't deprive his darling Dark Angel though, not when she made such wonderful sounds. With a grin he slid down her supple body to pepper sweet kisses to her inner thighs; he loved those thighs.
"Ah, Faustus!"
His tongue licked at her folds hungrily tasting the sweet flavour of the young witch. Thorn gasped out a strangled moan. His tongue lapped at her folds, he was amazed at how wet she was for him, her hands longed to cling into his jet black hair, grip it tightly as his tongue circled her clit; Thorn just wanted to mess it up, Faustus was such a well put together man and the thought of dishevelling him was just too good. He kissed that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over making her scream louder and louder for him, then he slipped a finger inside her. Thorn moaned which only spurred him on. A finger slipped into her wet heat and then another, he crocked them as he kissed her clit. It didn't take long for Thorn to start pushing back on his fingers, she was close and he knew that, so he slipped in a third finger. After a few moments of careful thrusting she groaned out and wrapped her legs around his head. Faustus made sure to keep the thrusts going throughout her orgasm until she was left panting, her eyes fluttered closed. Thorn felt nothing but pure pleasure.
"Faustus!" She all but screamed and Satan did that feed Faustus' ego.
He smirked when his lips met hers again, knowing she could taste herself on him. They lay together in the blood colored sheets a time, there bodies coated in a thin layer of sweat as their lungs sucked in much needed air. Only when she prompted him did Faustus finally relent and untied her hands, she stretched them a tad awkwardly then cuddled into the older man's side. They'd never done that before, they'd never had sex anywhere but Faustus' desk at the Academy of Unseen Arts.
The tingle of orgasm still radiated through his strong body. The sex had been wonderful but after a few times on the hard wood of his desk it had gotten a little stale; the bed was certainly softer.
Thorn's wrists hurt a little where they'd been tied but she didn't care, she had the High Priest beside her; Thorn was happy.
"I think we should use a bed more often."
Faustus smirked as the arm he had around her tightened.
"I concur, Dark Angel."
Thorn snuggled in closer. "I like you calling me that. Maybe I'll have to call you Lucky."
Blackwood frowned. "You will not." He responded quickly.
"Well, it was that or Fau-"
"You'll use neither." He interrupted. "And why would you chose something as childish as 'Lucky'?"
The raven-haired beauty had to stop herself from smirking.
"You're name is Faustus and it means auspicious, fortunate, so lucky seemed appropriate." She said as though it were simple.
Faustus wasn't impressed. "At least there was thought in it but the answer to both is still no. You will call me Faustus as it is my name and I am not a Labrador."
Thorn sighed in mock annoyance before she pressed a little kiss to his naked chest.
"Fine. Tell you what, I'll only call you 'Lucky' if I'm terrified and desperately need your help."
The High Priest sill didn't look overly impressed. "Hmm, or you could just ask for help like most people do."
"And let whoever I'm scared of know? Nah, I don't think so." She shook her head.
"You are very rarely scared so I suppose I will allow it."
Thorn kissed him again then with a happy little smile on her stunning face.
"Good, but it's not like you were getting a choice."
Faustus raised an eyebrow. "You're being rude, my Dark Angel."
It was then that the peace and quiet was broken, Judas chose that moment to erupt into tears down the hall and Blackwood sighed internally; he'd been enjoying himself. The High Priest huffed as he made to stand up but Thorn stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'll go. If Uncle Kylian is in the halls he'd be less intrigued by me walking around my house half naked than you." With a little nod he watched her rise from the bed and throw his large white shirt over her beautiful pale body. "He just wants some attention, I'm sure."
He saw the door close quietly and let himself fall back against the soft sheets where he just stared up at the Verdi style wainscoted ceiling. His good little girl and Faustus loved every second of it. It didn't take very long for Thorn to return with Judas in her arms, he was awake but had settled. Judas' father paused at that sight, she was utterly stunning and for a second before his mind returned to the world around him he imagined Thorn as Judas' mother.
"Told you he just wanted attention." She told him as she sat back down on the bed with the child in her arms.
Blackwood loved his son but it would have been nice if he'd chosen another time to cry. Had Faustus not thought his son above such things he'd have thought Judas did it on purpose to gain Thorn's attention; frankly Faustus wouldn't have blamed the boy.
The High Priest pushed himself up onto his elbows beside Thorn as she settled back against the headboard. A few extra candles burst to life on the side table, it' hadn't been lost on Faustus that candles were everywhere in Mortimer Manor. She certainly had an affinity for the things, then again, she was the most talented witch he'd ever come across when it came to fire; and that reluctantly included himself.
Thorn had soothed Judas after just a few moments again and he watched her smile down at him almost lovingly
"He's going to look just like you, Faustus. To be honest I think he's all you, just Lady Blackwood's nose. Then again, all babies should inherit something of their mother. Father used to say I had my mother's smile."
Faustus just hoped Judas hadn't gotten Constance's deceit or jealously, he never wanted a re-run of the Feast of Feasts scandal.
"Indeed." The one word was the only answer he gave rather than airing his thoughts. "You are very good with Judas."
Thorn didn't look up as she spoke, just kept her eyes on the child.
"It's because he's such a good boy."
There was quiet for a while then and Faustus wasn't used to such calm peace. Him and a woman happily cradling his son. When Thorn yawned Father Blackwood searched for a new topic.
"Dinner was wonderful." Since when had Faustus struggled for anything to say?
"Good. Thank you, I used to help my mother before she died. It was always myself and Gray's job to help her for the solstice. We did quite well."
"Your brother cooked?" Of course he'd not tell her he enjoyed the culinary arts somewhat as well.
Thorn nodded without taking her emeralds off of Judas as he settled back into slumber.
"He was quite good at it. It helped him with potions as well." Faustus understood that, it had been how he'd stumbled upon cooking. "He wouldn't have won any awards or anything alike but he could make a rather good meal."
"I'm an only child-"
"Yeah, no kidding." She interrupted but Faustus just carried on talking as if she'd not said a word.
"- but a brother would have been nice during the holidays."
"Well, now you have Judas." A pause, brief and hardly there. "... and you're quite welcome here."
Oh, now that Faustus would take full advantage of.
"Thank you." The High Priest said politely.
He watched with piercing blue eyes as she shifted her pillows around, settled the babe down here he was safe and boxed in then rolled onto her side where she closed her eyes ready for sleep. Seemed Faustus didn't have a chance of getting that round two he wanted.
"Goodnight, Faustus." She whispered softly.
When the candles put themselves out Faustus copied her and rolled onto his side to face Thorn and his son. He'd never thought about the whole family thing. When Constance had been pregnant he'd been so focused on getting his heir that all else had gone out the window. Yet laying there looking at Thorn and Judas he couldn't help but wonder if he and the late Lady Blackwood would have had nights like the one he'd found himself in. It was a strange though for Faustus Blackwood. Truthfully he'd never really loved Constance, she'd been a wife of convenience but he'd started to think Thorn was different... and that started a whole new line of questions that it was just too late to think about.
