A/N: Here we go. Chapter five of Where Butterflies Never Die. I am so sorry for the wait. I have been having a hard time with inspiration recently, but I have been listening to music and then boom! While I was at work, I had an idea.
I realize that Royce's temper is heavily hinted upon in his ghost file, so it was obviously a dominant trait of his personality. Which got me to thinking. What about Emily? Someone who is genuinely sweet and shy. With a sister like Emilia, she must be repressing some deeply rooted anger.
And I am not going to lie, I kind of want to give Emily a villain era.
RATED E for everyone. There is gooey sweetness.
I also updated a lot of the story, so I would go back and read it.
Emily, Emily, Emily
Has the murmuring sound of May
All silver bells, coral shells, carousels
And the laughter of children at play
Say Emily, Emily, Emily
And we fade to a marvelous view
Two lovers alone and out of sight
Seeing images in the firelight
As my eyes visualize a family
They see Emily, Emily
Emily
Frank Sinatra
April 10th, 1956
Pauly's Diner
Emily grinned when she felt tiny arms hug her waist and cast her eyes down to see Elizabeth Clayton's sapphire orbs gleaming up at her. Despite Emily's own 5'1" stature, she easily bent down and scooped the soon to be six-year-old girl off the floor and into her arms, pressing a sweet kiss to her icy blonde curls.
"Bonjour ma petit."
"Bonjour Emily."
The bell on the door of the diner gave its telltale chime and both girls looked up to see Royce step through the door, his eyes locking on them before he strolled over. Even if it was only a second, Emily did not miss the way Royce's eyes had swept from her head and down to her toes, lingering on certain aspects of her figure before locking back on hers.
Pleasant heat spread through her being and the chimes along the patio outside of the diner started tinkling rapidly, filling the air with their song as the April breeze picked up outside. Her ability to absorb sound waves and convert them to energy would be a lot easier to manage if it wasn't tied to every tiny shift in her mood. Or if she knew its limitations.
Focus Emily.
The friendly voice of her Familiar filled her ears and she shook her head lightly.
She took a deep breath and focused on calming down her racing heart. As soon as her emotions settled, the wind died down and no one seemed to have noticed anything had happened to begin with.
Very good. You're getting better at controlling it.
I'm sixteen. I shouldn't have to learn to control it at all.
You heard your mother. Even when she gained full access to Witchcraft at sixteen, she still struggled to control the one ability the Goddess specifically granted to her.
Royce doesn't have these problems with his.
Royce is a boy, Emily. And on top of that, he is only a half-witch. One of the stronger half-witches I've seen, I'll give him that, but he still doesn't hold a candle to a full blooded one like you, your mother, your sister, and your father.
"Pan is talking to you, isn't he?" Emily blinked and looked at Elizabeth, still perched in her arms. "I get that far off look in my eyes when Hatter and I talk to each other."
She nuzzled her nose against Lizzie's.
"What did you and your brother do today?"
"We played hide and seek!" she leaned closer, as if telling a secret, even though Royce could clearly hear her, anyway. "He's not very good at it."
"Hey!" Royce gripped his little sister gently and pulled her from Emily's arms, tickling her sides. "That's not very nice."
Emily leaned her hip back against the counter, watching the interaction between her boyfriend and his little sister. From the moment Elizabeth was born, Royce was smitten. He loved being an older brother and doted on her constantly, getting her a new teddy bear or doll and taking her out for ice cream whenever she wanted now that he had a car.
"She's right, you know," Royce looked up at his girlfriend and cocked an eyebrow in question. "You are terrible at hide and seek."
Royce stuck his tongue out at her.
Elizabeth hugged Hatter to her chest and stared triumphantly up at her older brother.
"See! I told you Emily would agree with me!" she then turned back to Emily. "I like your eyes by the way, Emily. The old one's were pretty, and I know you probably miss them, but mama says it isn't uncommon for a Witch's eyes to change color when they fully come into their power."
Emily sighed but smiled none the less. It was true. She did miss her old moss green eyes. But Hecate had decided that when Emily came into her power fully that her eyes would be purple and that was the end of it. You did not argue with the Goddess. It never ended well.
Luckily, Royce got to keep his beautiful icy blues.
"Elizabeth convinced me to take her out for ice cream."
Emily chuckled.
"By that, you mean she asked, and you folded like a paper airplane."
He held up his hands. "Guilty."
She shook her head and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before shooing him off to a table, throwing a wink at Elizabeth as she followed her brother, clutching his hand tightly.
"You know," Becky materialized next to her at the counter, leaning on it. "If I was a stranger watching you two and Elizabeth, I'd think you were parents."
She nudged Emily in the side.
"But luckily for you two, you look your age," After a moment, Becky got a serious expression and reached out, tucking a piece of Emily's black hair behind her ear. "How are you, bug? I hear the transformation to full Witch capability can be a little jarring."
Emily looked at her friend.
"I feel different," she chewed lightly on her thumb nail. "A constant thrum of energy is surging through my veins. Before the change, it was there but it wasn't as noticeable. But this new ability? My ability? It's a hair trigger. The slightest switch in my temperament and sound automatically converts to energy on its own accord. Just seeing Royce eyeing me made me set off the wind."
She sighed.
"And then there's the physical changes," she lowered her voice. "My eyes."
"Your hair."
Emily looked at Becky in confusion.
"There's more wave than curl," she pulled a few strands up to study them. "And there is definitely more blue to it now than there was before."
Emily chewed on her lip.
"I don't feel like me anymore."
Becky chuckled.
"The fact that you said that proves you are still you, Emmy," she gripped her chin. "Stop overthinking everything and just enjoy the changes. There's no going back now."
Emily watched as her best friend flounced off and after a moment, she went over to a table that was flagging her down.
March Mansion
10:00 Pm
Emily sat upon the medium-high wall of the porte-cochere. She felt like she was suffocating inside the house. Everyone was constantly pestering her about how she was feeling. How she was handling the change. She felt like she had answered the same question, phrased a thousand ways, at least seven hundred times. She just wanted her extended family to go back to England and France, respectively.
An arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she looked up at her father.
Nicholas March was an imposing man with curled dirty blonde hair and intense dark blue-green eyes that contrasted heavily with his pale skin. He was well built with a delicate yet masculine face. He could be harsh and unforgiving to humans and to his fellow witches. But to his wife and daughters, he was soft as a marshmallow.
"I remember my sixteenth, you know," he nudged her nose lightly with his index finger before gesturing forward with a "I can remember it like it was yesterday" expression. "Your great nan decided to bake a blueberry-chocolate cake, completely forgetting that I am deathly allergic to blueberries, mind you."
Emily hid a chuckle as he paused.
"I spent the change in the A&E listening to my mum yell at her mum about blueberry cake," he shook his head. "Completely overlooking the way the Doctors were eyeing me when my hair and eyes changed color."
"Like magic."
"Exactly, my darling," he laughed. "I use to be a brunette with dark chocolate eyes." He scrunched his nose. "This was quite a bit bigger, too. Can't say I miss that."
After a moment, Nicholas quieted down and his expression became more sympathetic as he gazed into nothing, remembering how lost he felt during his change.
"I know it's overwhelming, little dove," he rubbed her shoulder as he spoke. "You don't look the same and you have more power than you know what to do with but that doesn't alter who you are as a person."
After a moment, he stood up.
"You have company."
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before heading inside.
She did not have to look up to know who took a seat beside her. The steady thrum of Royce's heart gave him away when he was at the end of the driveway. She leaned her head into his chest when he pulled her close.
"He's right, you know."
Royce nuzzled the top of her head with his nose, subtly inhaling the aroma that was uniquely Emily's. After his change, his sense of smell had become much sharper, and he found that he could now identify the individual notes that made up Emily's scent.
Starflower. Sandalwood. Sugared Tangelo. White Agarwood. Amber.
"Do I still smell the same?"
He chuckled against the crown of her head and nodded.
"Your eyes and hair may have changed but you're still my Emily," he tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. "And I can't tell you how grateful I am that you put up with me."
"Stop."
"I mean it, I'm egotistical, and bad tempered," he could tell by the way her lips curved that he was reaching his intended goal. "I have gotten into six fights this week," he held up a finger. "And it is not even Wednesday, Emily. We are two days in. Two!"
She burst into laughter, but he wasn't done.
"I'm a nightmare, kitten, honestly-"
He was cut off by her lips. An odd sound he did not quite recognize escaped him when the tip of her tongue pressed against his bottom lip. He surrendered to it, tangling his fingers in her inky tresses as the pink organ stroked against his own.
"You may be a nightmare Royce Clayton but you're mine," a pleasant tremor ran up his spine as she tugged lightly on his lip with her teeth. Enough to sting but not truly hurt. "And I'd like to keep you."
His icy blue eyes turned molten in the light of the moon as dark red energy pulsed under his skin at the possessiveness in her tone. Women could be worse than men in that department, it seemed. But his sweet Emily could claim dominion over his very soul if she wished it and he would submit.
"I'm all yours, doll."
He took her lips in a hungry kiss.
A/N: I wrenched this chapter out of the bowels of my soul. And I think I'm living for the chaotic energy these two generate.
Reviews are appreciated as they feed the muse.
