AN: I know we're moving a bit slow, but crazy work schedules are actually pretty crazy. Thanks for the reviews. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 2
Waking up to an empty cottage is something Brittany isn't used to. She's woken up to her father's voice, his music, or the sound of his snoring. Never alone, though. The silence is horrible and weighs heavy on her chest, like her cat has fallen asleep on her again.
The previous evening, sleep was hard to come by. Every creak or sound was sinister or foreboding and echoed through the empty space her father had left behind. The silence of the morning is worse, though. The day seems to solidify the feelings of loneliness Brittany feels now that her father is really gone.
She shakes her head as she moves around the cottage completing her morning routine of chores. The faster she finishes, the quicker she can head into town. People are in town all of the time. They let their children play by the fountain while they work or trade.
The work of chores passes slower without the sound of her fathers laughter or music there to set a rhythm for her. Even humming and singing made up songs to Lord Tubbington don't help keep away the very loud, real silence of being alone.
When everything is put in place she heads into town. Her walk is brisk and she feels like she's trying to outrun something creeping up behind her.
/
The town square is bustling with activity as always. The air is different today. The usual atmosphere of business and routine have disappeared. The square surrounding the fountain is decorated for a celebration.
A wedding.
"Now, Dave," Jesse says, straightening his bolo tie. "When she enters the square and I get down on one knee you have one tiny job to do."
"I cue the band," Dave says, nodding his head.
"Yes, cue the band." Jesse runs his hands down the lapel of his jacket. "I want you to make sure everyone is looking. I want all eyes on me. I want everyone to remember this moment. The moment when I, Jesse St. James, sweep Brittany S. Pierce off of her feet."
"A love story for the ages," Dave agrees with a slight smirk.
"Don't mock me," Jesse says, accentuating each word with a brush of his hand across his shoulder. He checks his reflection obsessively in the water by the fountain. "This must be perfect."
"It will be," Dave assures, looking at his own reflection beside Jesse.
"Yes," Jesse sneers into the water. "You're right, everything I do is perfect."
People are talking excitedly around the square. Jesse turns to look at the assortment of villagers dressed in their best (or what they assume to be appropriate). "Thank you all for coming to my wedding." He smiles wide at the crowd and waves a hand.
There's a smattering of applause.
"Keep an eye out for her, I know she'll come. She always comes to the fountain," says Jesse. He shoves Dave roughly towards the main road. "Stand guard while I mingle."
"Yes, sir," Dave says. He keeps his eyes peeled on the road, waiting for Brittany's arrival.
/
"I can't believe it's finally happened," says the butcher's wife.
"I can. I told you didn't I?" The baker's wife scans the crowd with beady eyes, searching for Brittany.
"It just seems a shame," says the butcher's wife.
"Doesn't it, though? I just don't see them together. Brittany is too...different," the baker's wife says. "The heart wants what it wants, though." She looks fondly towards her husband. He's rather large and his bald head is glistening in the sun. He ruffles his mustache (a nervous habit) as he talks to the butcher.
"I suppose."
/
Brittany slows her walk the farther away she gets from her cottage. The day is warm and though the sun is glaring, the cool breeze from the previous day has returned. It blows against Brittany as if it wants to keep her away. She happily walks against it. The feel of the wind blowing her hair away from her face and off her neck is a relief from the heat of the sun.
Shock. That's the feeling she gets when she sees how completely empty the town looks. The main road is nearly empty. Almost all of the shops and stands are closed. It's as if everyone has left town overnight.
An odd sinking feeling settles in the pit of Brittany's stomach. Her heart pounds and her palms begin to sweat. She wonders for a moment if she's been left completely alone. Maybe she's having a horrible nightmare?
She takes a few hesitant steps forward and hears noise. Talk, laughter. It wafts towards her on the wind from the town square. She cocks her head wondering what event she has forgotten. As she moves towards the square the wind blows hard against her.
/
David leans against the cobbler's store. He twists a piece of straw in his hands and looks around the square. He sighs and throws the piece of straw on the ground. He kicks at the dirt road and shoves his hands in his trouser pockets and begins to pace back and forth. He keeps his head down.
A roar of laughter comes the square and David looks up, a small smile on his lips. He takes a few steps forward, wanting to join the fun, before stopping. He watches Jesse pantomime a story for a crowd of people. He narrows his eyes and watches, hesitating.
He doesn't hear he footsteps approach behind him.
/
"What's going on?" Brittany asks David.
He jumps and turns quickly, eying her up and down. He looks panicked. His eyes are wide and he looks back toward the square quickly. "B-Brittany," he stutters taking a step back.
"Yes," Brittany says, drawing out the word. She stands with her hands tucked into her apron pockets. "Why are you acting so strange?" She narrows her eyes slightly and scrunches her brow. She peaks around him and looks at the square.
"Well you see, uh," he stumbles over his words and backs away from Brittany. "Can you just, uh, wait here?"
"Hold on a moment," Brittany mumbles looking at the decorations. "Is someone getting married?" Her eyes widen in sudden excitement. "Who's getting married?" She takes a few steps towards Dave.
"No one. Nothing, just wait here," he says before turning around and walking quickly away from Brittany.
Brittany tilts her head slightly and watches him for a beat before following after. A wedding feels like the perfect solution for her feelings of isolation and solitude.
/
"Jesse, Jesse, Jesse," David whispers as fast as he can. "Jesse a problem has arisen!" He walks as quickly as he can without running. He slides to a stop beside Jesse, kicking up dirt. He tugs on his sleeve.
Jesse turns, eyebrows forced together in a scowl. "What?" He hisses loudly. He takes in David's wide eyes and panic. He glances around and sees Brittany walking towards them leisurely. "You were supposed to warn me!" He shoves David out of the way and walks briskly to Brittany, meeting her before she reaches the crowd and the fountain.
"Brittany," he says, mellowing his voice and taking her gently by the elbow. He leads her farther away from the crowd.
"Jesse," Brittany says, pulling her arm away from Jesse. She rubs her elbow and looks over Jesse's shoulder. "What's the occasion?"
"You see," Jesse begins moving to block her vision of the crowd, which has slowly begun to realize that Brittany is finally there. "Today is a special day."
"I can tell," Brittany says. "Who's getting married? David didn't say." Brittany spots Caroline in the crowd and waves. Caroline smiles and waves back. "Everyone is so dressed up."
She scans the crowd of people, then back to Jesse in his very best dress. "Wait a second," she says. "Are you getting married?"
"Yes," Jesse says, smirking at her in a way that makes her skin crawl. "Today is a very special day. Probably the most special day this town will ever have. Today I'm getting married."
Brittany pauses for a moment. "Well congratulations. She must be a really...lucky girl." While it is Jesse and he is the most annoying person she knows, Brittany feels herself deflate. She wasn't invited. No one even told her about the wedding and here it is, about to happen. "Oh," she says, realization hitting her. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just...go."
Jesse laughs deep, throwing his head back and running a hand through his curly locks. "No, you have to stay, Brittany."
"Why is that?" She asks, genuinely confused now. If she wasn't invited, why would she have to stay?
Jesse sighs and shakes his head, as if he's having to explain the situation to a child. "Alright, the time to play coy has passed."
Brittany looks around the square. "Uh," she says becoming very aware of how many people are listening to their conversation.
"Well, if you insist on making me ask," Jesse says. Before Brittany can stop him he's pulling her closer to the crowd. He stands in front of her, holding both her hands in his own. "Brittany S. Pierce, today is the day you become my wife."
The only thing keeping her from laughing is the anticipation radiating from the crowd. Brittany looks around for help, for something, anyone to jump out and scream surprise. She suddenly feels like this is one big joke and she's the punch line.
"Jesse, no," she says, jerking her hands roughly away from him. "Why would I marry you?"
Jesse stares at her, mouth slightly open in shock. "I'm Jesse St. James. Why wouldn't you marry me?"
Brittany shakes her head and turns away. She walks a few paces back towards the main road that leads out of town and turns. "What does the S stand for?"
"Excuse me?" Jesse splutters. His jaw is still slack and he's looking at her like she's a book without pictures; confusing.
"Brittany S. Pierce. What does the S stand for?" She asks it angrily and crosses her arms.
No one says anything for a full five seconds. Brittany turns quickly and walks out of the village, back to her cottage.
/
When the laughter begins Jesse shoves David angrily. "This is your fault," he bellows before retreating in the opposite direction of Brittany. He yells a few choice words and the majority of the town is left standing, dumbstruck.
/
Maurice Pierce pulls his cloak tighter around him but to no avail; it slips down his shoulders as soon as he returns both his hands and attention to the reigns. He shivers. The night is dark and cool and calm, a dangerous trio in his book. Luckily, he knows the path and so does Philippe.
He leans his head back and sighs. The bumpy road and old cart make him feel like he's been sleeping on a stone floor. He groans when a particularly large hole in the road causes the cart to jolt. He rubs his forehead and thanks the heavens that he only has a few more miles to go before he reaches a resting point.
Not too far...
His body jolts as if someone has just thrown cold water on him. He sits up up quickly and groans when his muscles ache. He rubs the back of his neck and looks around. The cart is stopped. "What?" He whispers into the night.
He blinks a few times and his eyes adjust to the darkness. He unties his lantern from the cart and holds it up in front of him. It illuminates Philippe and the split path ahead of him. "Where are we?"
Philippe snorts in response.
"Thank you," he mumbles sarcastically. He flicks his reigns and clicks his tongue to Philippe. The horse moves forward and a sign post comes into view. It has four or five signs pointing in different directions. Maurice blinks hard and tries to read what the signs say. He hops off the cart and stands in front of the pole, holding the lantern up for direct light.
"Maybe Brittany was right," he mumbles as he takes a step back, unable to decipher the words on the sign. He crawls back onto the cart. "Okay, Philippe. Left or right?"
The horse swishes his tail.
"Left if is, I suppose," he mumbles, guiding Philippe down the designated path.
/
They've been traveling for barely half an hour when Maurice realizes it has to be the wrong path. The road has become bumpy underneath the cart, jolting his body every few steps Philippe takes. Something makes the air thick around Maurice and the wind tugs at his cloak. When a wolf howl fills the night, Maurice shivers.
When other howls echo in response his heart tightens slightly. "I think we've taken the wrong path," Maurice whispers to Philippe who whinnies in response and continues to pull the cart.
Maurice pulls his cloak farther up his shoulders and glances quickly around him. He swallows hard as another chorus of howls fill the air. "Philippe," Maurice says, tightening his grip on the reigns.
Philippe's ears prick up and fold back. He retreats backwards and the cart catches on a rock in the path, jolting it. Philippe rears, neighing shrilly.
"Whoa, whoa boy," Maurice says loudly trying to grab the reigns he's dropped. The cart jerks and Philippe darts forward at a fast trot. Maurice abandons his search for the reigns and holds tight to the cart. He can hear howling around him but is too caught up in hanging on to realize that the growling from the wolves is right beside him. When one of the wolves appears in the middle of the path and snaps at Philippe's fetlocks, the horse turns abruptly, throwing Maurice to the side of the cart. He struggles hard to find a grip but fails to do so when another wolf pounces at Philippe, causing him to buck forward.
He's thrown from the cart. He hits the dirt path hard and can hear the wolves, Philippe and the cart disappearing into the distance. He stays completely still, afraid of any wolves that might be lingering behind. He opens his eyes and slowly pushes himself up. He stands, rubbing the dust off of his clothes, and looks around.
"Oh, Philippe," he says looking down the path and unable to see beyond the dark.
His lantern is laying on the ground a foot or so from him. His hat not too far after that. He brushes it off and holds the lantern high. Shelter, he needs to find shelter from the wolves and the deceiving night. He walks a few feet and his foot comes into contact with something hard. He jumps in surprise and looks down.
A guitar.
He stares at it for a long time. "Must have fallen off the cart," he mumbles, picking it up. He holds it tightly around the neck and walks forward with a slight limp.
/
He's been walking for what feels like hours. His feet sore, his back sore, his eyes sore from the dim light of the lantern. "It could be worse," he mumbles to himself.
Then the rain begins.
It starts as one thick droplet that lands on the brim of his hat. Then another large droplet that manages to smack him in the side of the face on a sharp gust of wind. Before he realizes it, the rain is falling hard and thick and he's soaked through his cloak.
Maurice shivers, the rain is cold, and continues forward. He keeps his eyes forward but it's hard to see through the spray.
Then, there, in the distance, he sees it. Big black gates. He moves towards them quickly, picking up his pace. He leans against the gates and moans; his left leg is aching horribly. He pushes the gates open. "Thank god," he says to the rain as he limps down the long path toward the double doors of the castle.
They feel like they weigh a ton as he pushes them open. He stumbles inside and pushes the doors closed again. He stands against the wall in the large entrance way and pants. There are no lanterns and little light, just a few candles resting here and there. The castle looks almost...deserted.
"Hello," Maurice says. His voice echoes loudly. "I just...needed a place to escape the rain." He pauses and takes a few steps forward. He can hear voices, people whispering just beyond his line of sight. "Hello?" He takes a few steps forward and picks up a candle stick sitting on one of the tables.
/
"This is not good. Not good at all," Rachel whispers, watching Maurice.
"What? He's just looking for some way to escape the cold," says Quinn, leaning against the wall beside Rachel.
"If Santana finds out...well, you know what happened last time someone asked for shelter," Rachel says, turning to look at Quinn for a moment.
Quinn looks at Maurice then back to Rachel. "Don't give me that puppy dog look. Santana doesn't have to find out. She's up in the West Wing doing whatever she pleases and ignoring us as usual." Quinn takes a step forward. "He just needs to dry off. We'll stick him somewhere Santana won't look," she assures.
"I don't know," Rachel says, twisting her hands together. "I don't think this is such a good idea.
"It's not like she can do anything to us," Quinn says, moving down the stairs and towards Maurice. "Hello."
/
Maurice jumps when he hears the greeting. His eyes dart around and land on a young woman stepping towards him. "Oh, hello," he stutters. For half a second he thought it was Brittany. But although the girl approaching him has the same light hair as Brittany, hers is shorter. She looks older, as if life has weighed heavy on her too soon. "I'm sorry to just barge into your home. It's raining and my cart...there were wolves."
"It's alright," Quinn says, smiling gently at him. "Let's get you out of that cloak."
/
Maurice holds the warm cup of tea in his hands for comfort more than anything. Even though his wet cloak is gone and he's wrapped in a blanket, he's still a bit wet. He takes a sip of the tea and it soothes his throat, which has been feeling more raw every moment.
"Thank you for your hospitality," he says looking from Quinn to Rachel.
"Not at all," Quinn says, waving a hand and smiling at him.
They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Rachel watches him closely and grimaces every time a stray drop of water lands on the rug.
Maurice opens his mouth to say something when Quinn interrupts him. "What's it like outside?" She looks almost shocked to have said the words, and her eyes dart to Rachel who is wearing the same expression. Rachel's hands twitch in her lap and she glares at Quinn hard, darting her eyes to Maurice and back.
"Well," says Maurice, setting the tea down on a side table. "It's rather...wet. It's raining and cold. Unseasonably so, if I do say so myself."
"No," Quinn says, shaking her head slightly. "What's it like outside of the castle?"
"Quinn," Rachel warns.
Maurice pauses and watches the two woman, perplexed. "I'm afraid I...I don't understand what you mean."
"The world," Quinn says. She shakes her head again. "Never mind. It's not like..."
"So," Rachel interrupts. "Are you feeling better?"
"Oh," says Maurice, watching Quinn. "Yes, thank you again for helping me."
"Not at all," Quinn says again, voice heavy. She stands and turns her back to the group, watching the fire.
"Tell us about you, then," says Rachel, glaring at Quinn and then smiling at Maurice. "To pass the time until this storm clears."
"Well," he says, unsure of where to start. Maurice Pierce isn't used to be questioned by such young beautiful women. "I make instruments and play them. I was on my way to a festival for musicians and makers and vocalists."
"Oh," Rachel says, looking down.
Maurice gulps. He feels out of sorts, as if everything he says is offensive or upsetting. "I have a daughter." It's the next thing that pops into his head. His Brittany, home alone.
"You do," says Quinn, turning quickly. The room becomes silent. "What's her name?"
"Brittany," Maurice says, watching Quinn. Her eyes become wide and sad, full of some emotion Maurice can't seem to pinpoint. "She's the light of my life," he says smiling at her.
Quinn sits down heavily in her chair.
Rachel shoots her a warning look. "Quinn," she whispers.
"Rachel be quiet," Quinn says. "Do you miss her terribly?"
"Quinn," Rachel hisses.
It takes Maurice a moment to realize that the question is directed at him. "Yes, I do," he says smiling. "But I'll be seeing her soon."
Quinn opens her mouth to speak, but Rachel places a hand on her shoulder. "Quinn," she says, voice firm. "I think it's getting late, and we should all try to rest."
"I'm not tired," says Quinn, sitting up straighter in her chair.
They slip back into an uncomfortable silence. Maurice looks around the room, anywhere but at the two strange women. He isn't sure what to say or how to respond to anything they've said or done. They seem so...odd.
"Do you play?"
Maurice looks up. Quinn nods towards the guitar at his feet. He smiles at it. "I do," he says.
Quinn glances at Rachel. "Would you mind?"
"What if she–" Rachel says.
"She won't," Quinn insists.
They glare at each other and seem to have a silent argument. Maurice picks up the guitar and holds it gently. "I don't have to if it's a problem."
"No, I'd love to hear some music in the castle again," Quinn says, turning away from Rachel.
Maurice nods and holds the guitar gently. He hesitantly plucks a few strings. He stops, frowning, and tunes the instrument before plucking at the strings again. "There we go," he says and begins to play. The music fills the room quickly. It's smooth and familiar and calming. Maurice smiles at the two women as he plays. "Do either of you sing? Sometimes my daughter sings, but she usually likes to dance."
Rachel's face drops as soon as he speaks and she looks away. Quinn watches her and seems to be thinking. She looks back to Maurice. "I sing," she says.
Rachel gasps and jerks her head up to look at Quinn. Before she can say anything, though, the doors to their sitting room are thrown open.
Maurice jumps and drops his guitar; it twangs as it hits the ground. Quinn and Rachel jump to their feet and exchange glances.
"What is this?" A voice roars.
Maurice's heart is beating in his throat. His chair is facing away from the intruder.
"What is this? I asked you a question," the voice asks again.
"I told her-"
"We were just–"
"It's raining and we just-"
"Helping is all-"
Santana sweeps around the chair and glares at the two women. "You know the rules. You know," she spits the words at them.
"I'm sorry," says Maurice, rising to his feet. "I didn't mean to intrude. I was only..."
He stops talking when Santana turns to look at him. He's frozen in place by the way her eyes glint wildly, like she's some caged beast. Her hair is unkempt and sticks out at random places. He let's his eyes wander over her entire appearance, her skin and clothes and sudden anger.
"What?" She snaps.
"I...I just..." He says. Her sudden appearance and her appearance have shocked the words out of him.
"Come to stare at me, have you? Come to stare at the ugly, repulsive... thing, have you?" Her voice is a growl, guttural, and deep in her chest.
"Santana," Rachel says stepping forward.
Santana turns her anger on the smaller girl. "Quiet!," she yells. Rachel becomes silent and retreats back to stand beside Quinn. "You," she turns back to Maurice. "You think you can just come here and stare at me like that?" She takes a few steps towards him.
Maurice stands, unable to move. He feels like a spell has been cast over him, keeping him in place.
When Maurice does nothing, Santana does the first thing she can think to do. She grabs the blanket that's wrapped around him and rips it away. She twists her arm in the fabric of his collar and pulls hard. Caught off guard, Maurice stumbles with her as she pulls him.
She drags him out of the room and into the entrance way. Maurice isn't sure what's happening. He gains his composure on the stairs and pulls against Santana. She turns to him and shoves him roughly. He's stunned, so stunned that when she pulls roughly for him to move forward he does. He feels almost delirious. His body is aching; he feels too warm and too cold all at once.
When Santana releases him he opens his mouth to speak. Before he can say anything, he's being shoved into a room. A door slams. Something clicks.
"Stay in there," she yells. It's deep in her throat and echoes horribly against the walls. He can hear her breathing heavily. She stops and stares at the heavy wooden door. She flexes her fingers and curls them into fists. She doesn't know what she's doing. The mania that gripped her when she saw someone staring at her with horror now gone, Santana feels lost. She could have let him or let him stay...
The idea of him wandering around her castles makes her shake her head. She can hear Maurice's uneven breathing. She thinks about letting him out, letting him go.
No. She has to be in control, even though she feels trapped. Trapped in her decision, the castle, her own skin.
She turns and leaves Maurice.
Her footsteps echo as she moves away.
Maurice curls in on himself and tries to regain his breath, slow his beating heart and figure out how everything has fallen apart around him so quickly.
/
Brittany sits outside of the cottage. She's in the yard behind the small barn, watching the sun set. She sighs and leans back in the grass.
"Jesse St. James," she mutters.
The grass feels sweet against her skin, and she stretches her body out like a cat.
"Brittany St. James," she says quietly. "Ugh." She shudders at the sound. "He's horrible."
She can't help but feel...a little sad at the entire situation. She didn't want to embarrass Jesse, but she feels like he deserved it.
Jesse has been her only suitor. The only person to have shown a little interest in her besides the children.
She realizes then just how alone she feels. With her father gone she's realizing that she has no one to talk to. No friends. No one. She's all alone. Before the feeling has time to spread through her entire body, Brittany hears a noise.
She turns her head and sees Philippe coming up the path towards the cottage. She sits up, thinking her silly father has forgotten something and smiles. The smile fades quickly when she sees that Philippe is alone. She jumps to her feet and runs, sliding to a half in front of the cart.
"Philippe, where's father?" The horse pushes his nose against Brittany.
She looks at the mud on the cart, the cover that has fallen off and the exposed instruments underneath. "Did something happen?" She doesn't wait for a response she knows isn't coming. She unharnesses Philippe and pulls off all of the extra gear he has to wear to pull the cart. She grabs a handful of his mane and pulls herself up onto his back.
"Let's go find father," she says, digging her heels into Philippe's sides.