Disclaimer: I own everybody but Ichabod.
Once Upon A Time
Chapter Eight
"It has been brought to my attention of late that my own parents do not seem inclined to speak when I am in the presence of Mister Hall," Rose observed. "They leave me completely on my own to grope blindly for witty remarks that will keep him interested, though it is hardly his interest for which I am searching. I do not enjoy his company and I do not wish to marry him; it would upset me greatly if that were to be my fate."
"I am afraid, my darling," Ichabod said, patting her hand gently as they walked along, boots crunching into the snow, "that you have very little choice in the matter. I am afraid, as well, that you will be wed to that man, but you must be strong and overcome the great and terrible depression that you are sure to face." They walked in silence for a moment before he said, "Of course, I cannot presume to know how crushing it must be to know that your fate has been decided for you, that you have no choice in your own destiny. It is not a comforting thought."
"Yes," she agreed. "And sometimes I think that life as a man would be so much easier. But then I think that I would not want it. If given a choice between male and female, I would choose to remain a woman. There are countless hardships for my gender, it is true, but I believe I would rather wear the dresses and play the games which I am made to play. It is fascinating and repulsive all at once, and yet I would live my life no other way."
He smiled at that moment and stopped walking. She stopped as well, staring up at him in askance. But his smile remained. "What has made us so philosophical and reflective?" he asked.
But she did not smile in reply. "I believe it is our dread," she said candidly. "We are both dreading the actions of forces that are beyond our control, and it has caused us to think again on things that we had previously neglected, or to discuss for the first time things that we have newly noticed. It is good and bad in its way, and I have only one thing to say for it."
"And what is that?" he asked, and they started walking once more.
"We must treasure the happy times while we can," she said, her stride becoming more determined, "for I fear that they shall very shortly be gone."
Time passed, and Rose became increasingly busy as her possible marriage arrangements grew deeper and darker. She was made to spend more time with James and less with Ichabod, because it was "improper for a girl with a pending promise to another man to spend so much time in the company of such a bachelor as Ichabod Crane," as her parents said. It depressed her and enraged Ichabod; their families had been friends all these years, so what right had they to take Rose away from him?
He knew, of course, that they had every right; she was their daughter and they were only trying to do their best for her by selecting the wealthiest and most willing husband. A part of him wished that he could tell them that it would be best for Rose to marry him, but he did not have half so many things that James had. He had Lord Crane's inheritance...when the old man decided to die. But until Daniel Crane departed his current plane of existence, Ichabod had nothing that would be worth anything in the eyes of Rose's parents.
But then James Hall went away to see his family in England for a few months as winter approached, so Ichabod and Rose were left alone from mid-December until early March. And on the first day of their freedom, Ichabod sat at his bureau near the window in the library, scanning the pages of some book distractedly. It was far from a lively piece of writing, but it was something to do until an opportunity for real entertainment and enjoyment presented itself.
And then there was a loud thump against his window.
He was woken quite abruptly from his near comatose state as something collided with his window. His book dropped to the floor with a slap that rang throughout the entire room, and he nearly fell backwards as he jumped out of his chair. After taking a moment to regain what little was left of his composure, he walked calmly to the window and opened it, looking about to catch the perpetrator. But he saw no one. "Hello?" he called out into the snowy expanse that lay before him.
There was a moment of nothing, and then a great bout of laughter rang out from behind a nearby tree. A figure came stumbling out into the open and doubled over in hilarity. It held up a hand after a time to stop him shutting the window, and then lifted its head and stood. It rushed forward, and as it got closer, he was able to identify who it was. "Rose!" he called, smiling widely.
"Good morning, Ichabod!" she yelled from her spot on the ground.
"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked.
"I've come to see you, of course," she replied.
"Obviously," he said, grinning like a fool at her. "But what of James? Should he not have whisked you away for an afternoon of shopping by now?"
"James has gone to England!" she announced gleefully, and spun about once in a dance of victory.
He said nothing for a moment; merely stared at her in shock. Then: "You can't be serious."
"I'm quite serious!" she told him. "He's gone home to England to spend Christmas with his family, and he won't return until March! It's wonderful!" Then she smiled up at him and said, "So let's not waste this beautiful winter day standing about with our mouths hanging open in shock. I want you to come down here and help me build a snowman."
After the aforementioned snowman had been built, destroyed, and rebuilt, Ichabod and Rose returned to the Hughes home and collected O'Kelley, a big brown Clydesdale perfect for towing the sleigh Rose's family owned. The two of them hooked him up to the sleigh and rode off, determined to stay outside until their toes froze.
They rode at a comfortable pace through the surrounding woodland area, breathing in the icy winter air and laughing at their good fortune. But it reminded them both of what Rose had said not so very long ago, that these good times would not last. Things were changing too dramatically, and they knew that nothing could ever go back to the way it once was. It made Ichabod unhappy on occasion, but deep down he knew he didn't regret any choices he had made in the past month or so, nor did he regret anything he had said. He also found that he was no longer angry at Rose's parents for trying to find her a husband. It would only do him harm in the end, but he did not blame them. In time, he learned to appreciate and treasure his moments of privacy with his beloved even more than he previously had.
And that is precisely what he did on their winter ride.
They stopped in a fairly deserted area of the forest, where there were very few animals and sounds to disturb them. It was nothing but a peaceful quiet, and it allowed them to hold one another and lean back into the sleigh as they stared up at the undersides of leaves. Neither one of them spoke for a very long time, and then Rose asked, "Ichabod, what do you think shall become of us?"
He said nothing for a moment, then sighed. "I am afraid I cannot possibly guess, Rose," he told her.
"I do not want us to drift apart," she said, clutching his hand tighter. "No matter what happens in our future, will you promise me that we shall remain lovers always?"
"That shall become quite complicated if you are wed to James Hall," he pointed out.
She nuzzled into him. "Yes, but we shall make it work."
He sighed again. "Unfortunately, I am not so sure of that," he said quietly.
She pulled away and stared at him curiously. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"Rose," he said, sitting up, "you know of the seemingly blind faith I put in Bertha, but she has told me things on more than one occasion that I would have liked to ignore due to the current situation. But I see that I can no longer do so." He sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself for his next words. "Bertha has told me that a daughter will result from our love," he said at last.
She was silent for quite a while; merely staring vacantly at nothing. He uttered her name once or twice, but she gave no response. Then, completely out of the blue, she said, "A daughter?"
"Yes, a daughter," he told her.
All of a sudden, she began to laugh and cry simultaneously, as though she did not know which emotion it was right to feel. She stared up at the sky, and then at Ichabod. She sniffed once and said, "We shall have a daughter of our very own. I can hardly believe it." She sniffed again, and dabbed at her eyes with a dainty, gloved hand. "Did Bertha say anything about when we would make the child?"
"She only mentioned a full moon," he said, "but nothing about an exact date."
"If that is the case," she said, "then I suppose we shall have to wait until we feel that the time is right." She nuzzled into him again and sighed contentedly. "Oh, Ichabod, our very own daughter," she murmured.
"Yes," he said quietly, stroking her hair. "Our very own daughter." And with that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and drifted into a contented sort of half sleep.
The blood is the life, Sikerra.
