In another world, Sparrow would've chosen to home her family here instead of their homely cottage in Oakfield.
It was almost ironic, wasn't it? The home she found behind the Demon Door in Oakfield was only a short distance from the home she and her husband, Alex, had chosen to raise their family in.
Sparrow had discovered the seemingly perfect home just a few months before the events that led to her family's despise. Alex and she had been on a casual stroll through the town while she was heavily pregnant with their only child - a child they would later learn was a girl and gift her the name Rosie - and happened upon the door.
The Demon Door had only one request - to see true love in action. A small kiss on the cheek from her husband turned into a warm embrace that caused them to kiss deeply with happy "awws" from the door and cheerful barks from her faithful canine who would in turn, give her his display of true love by attacking her face with kisses just a moment later.
The trio traveled in together, her hand slipped perfectly in-twine into his, and her canine lapping around them in their best attempt to protect them should the door contain a family of Hobbes or Hollow Men that decided to take up residence.
Inside they found a home that stole their breaths. The home was surrounded by rows upon rows of flowers that were blossomed and held a bed of chicken coops and a windmill that proudly spun despite the lack of wind going by. The world felt peaceful here.
Her dog ran in front of the couple and chased after a rabbit that hid in a bed of faded yellow flowers, their yellow and black fur picking up bristles and becoming stained green. She reminded herself to have her pooch take a dig in the stream behind the cottage to take care of the discoloration, then laughed as she knew that it would be only a short time later that they would only get dirty again by the end of the day.
Her stomach tightened as her baby repositioned herself and she found her hand resting on top of where she could feel her baby pressing against, just catty-corner to her belly button where a large scar had begun to fade and a stretch mark had grown over. Years of surviving on little food had taken its toll on her body and she always struggled to gain weight, and even now, just a short time away from giving birth, she barely looked as if she was only newly pregnant. When others would ask how long until the baby arrived, they balked when she responded that she was just waiting for when the baby would make their great arrival. If she hadn't felt nauseous daily and felt the constant movement of her child, she would wonder if she was even pregnant.
Alex had led her into the house, opened the door, and entered behind her. That was one of the things that she loved dearly about him; he was always courteous and cared for her deeply. He never complained of her long adventures and always offered her a plate once he saw her coming home down the road that led to their cottage. His thin lips always transformed into a shy smile and he greeted her with a kiss on her forehead, despite her being almost a foot taller than him.
"Is it safe to stay here?" he asked her, watching her curiously as she dropped her weapons on the kitchen table and sat. It occurred to her that this was probably the first time he was successful in solving one of the Demon Door's puzzles. They always seemed so easy to solve for her, but she never heard any nearby villagers or travelers solving them, including her Hero friends. And yet; he performed confidently for the door and followed her inside without a complaint.
That was another thing she loved about him. He always rolled with the punches when it came to her. He trusted her.
"I suppose so," she responded. Alex looked hesitantly at her, then nodded and followed her lead to the table, pulling out a chair and rubbing his clammy hands against his trousers. "I don't normally have to fight anyone inside of these things. I'm not sure what their purposes are, but I find lots of interesting things in them. Have you ever seen the door in the Bowerstone Cemetery? It asked me to kick a chicken at them-"
"A chicken?"
"Yes, a chicken," she laughed. "And I got a whole slew of potions for it. They're very interesting doors."
At that moment, the two of them just casually conversing inside a seemingly perfect world, she almost forgot that she was only taking a short break from her travels due to her pregnancy and would be returning on her quest to stop Lord Lucien. She would only be home long enough to recover from birth. Then, Alex and her baby would be left to fend for themselves while she slayed Hobes, Hollow Men, and Lucien's men.
Of course, that's likely why she found herself here. Just as she only visited her husband and child, she had to visit the place that once felt like home.
Back in the cottage, she constantly tidied up between court sessions and just wandered about the small acreage of access she had access to. It hadn't changed. The same rabbits that her dog chased continued to munch on fresh vegetables that grew. The chairs they neglected to push in stayed there, inviting her to sit down and take off the load she had been carrying for decades.
She never could find the ability to sit down there. She had to stay standing, like a visitor that was unsure if they had the right to sit and dine in elegance. For years, she never felt like she had the privilege to unwind. It was not her place when she had failed to defend her family like she swore to on her wedding day, on the day of Rose's birth, and of course, the day she met her dog.
It had been fifteen years since their murders.
Fifteen years since she held her Rosie against her bosom, feeding her milk and shushing her to sleep.
Fifteen years since she lay next to Alex in bed, smelling the cheap perfume he wore and nuzzling into his small wreath of chest hair.
Fifteen years since she heard the playful bark of her pooch that raced around her while they ran through Albion on the way to their next adventure.
Fifteen years since the little bit of happiness she clung to was hers.
In those fifteen years, she never truly felt right. When Lucian revealed that he murdered her family and shot her dog, it forever changed her. There was this ache in her chest, a painful stabbing sensation that stayed with her forever.
It first occurred when she lost her parents. It hurt. Often. Rose did her best to stop the pain by signing her the songs her mother would sing and reciting the educational lessons her dad thrived at teaching them. It never disappeared, but Rose softened it enough that it became bearable.
And then when Rose was killed, it became harder. It ached and burned, like a fire that was attempting to try to start from the inside of her. When Theresa sent a healer to look over her as a child, the healer informed her that it was not uncommon for rage to affect bodies in more ways than was originally thought. Her body was in a rage that she had to put to use before it boiled her from the inside out. So, with Theresa's guidance, she did. She trained. And trained. And did her best to remember the mission she was on. If she sat for too long, she would feel the pain. Every bandit fight, every Hollowman's skull she smashed, and Hobbe that she set on fire, she transferred the pain to them.
When the words spewed from Lucian's lips, she felt that ache once more. It stabbed her over and over again until she could feel the contractions of it tearing through much more than her chest, sending spasms to every joint and appendage she possessed, coming in painful waves that no potion, food, or any terrifying amount of alcohol could stop.
Some days that pain made her feel like she was deep in the water, drowning with the waves dragging her down with each painful attempt to stay afloat. Her lungs burned and she was so tired. Sometimes Sparrow wondered if there was finally going to be a day that she just allowed the water to take her deep into its abyss and be reunited with the family she loved. Other times she felt as though she had no control over the movement of her arms and legs; they were controlled by a being so much stronger than she was and it had decided her odyssey was not yet ready to end.
Often, she found herself watching herself converse, smile, and fight without any control over what she did, wear, or when to parry. It felt like a dream. Time passed, and the days went from long to short and short to long, and she could never truly tell someone what had happened. It just did. She was a ghost in her body, watching it age and make decisions she never thought that she would.
Only as a small child did she ever believe that she could become the ruler of Albion. As a child, she didn't know what it would entail. Sparrow imagined it would involve very delicious food, a warm bed that went for miles, and fun parties that never ended.
As an adult, she almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous her young mind was. Children's minds always are. They don't understand the seriousness of the world and see the amazement more than the dullness that life shrouded itself in.
She didn't quite remember how exactly she became it. She remembered coming into Fairfax Gardens for something, but she couldn't quite put her finger on exactly what she was doing there. And then, in what felt like a matter of minutes later, a timid-looking man with dull eyes and a monotone voice was calling her Queen Sparrow and if she was ready to retire to bed for the evening.
It wasn't rare for most of her days to be spent like this anymore. To just wake up to being told what had changed in her life.
Two weeks after being crowned Queen, she foiled an assassination attempt on her life. The man who paid for her head to roll was executed by sword two weeks later.
Three months later, a man eight years her elder held her in his warm, but distant embrace and announced they were to be wed come the winter. His name was Victor and he always smelled like brandy. He was introduced to her by Reaver as a man of this and that importance and her political advisors oohed and awed over the man more than one would of a freshly born babe. The wedding was a large affair that she was always learning new details about. Supposedly, Hannah outdrank all of the attendants and proceeded to throw up over the balcony of her bedroom and threatened several important political allies when they attempted to lecture her on her improper decorum.
Weeks later, she recalled Victor finishing inside of her and informed her staff to arrange for one of the adjoining rooms to be redecorated into a nursery. Victor wanted one child and only one; an heir.
She recalled the desire to correct him, but ultimately, smiled and swallowed the remaining wine in her class without another thought.
It was only eight months later that Logan was born, his flesh purple and coated in vernix. His screams pierced through the castles at all hours and she found herself unable to soothe him as she did her Rosie. No matter how hard she tried, she never found that connection. Logan was her child by blood, but she was never his mother and he was never hers. Logan was the royal child of the people of Albion and the son of Victor. She was the vessel that brought him to the world, but not the one that would guide him to his greatness.
Eventually, she remembered where she was. Her mind slowly awoke from its slumber and she woke up. Her body was hers to control for now.
She was outside still, her feet soaking in a running stream that followed beside the footpath leading to the backdoor of the cottage. How long had she been standing there? She didn't know. She didn't care to guess. Time was of no more importance to her when she entered the Demon Doors. What was hours to her in here would be only minutes out there. No one would've even noticed her departure from the kingdom outside of her new butler who was always tailing behind her, asking for her signature on a new treaty or which outfit she would want to wear for the evening.
Sparrow sighed and removed herself from the stream. It was time to go back. She'd need to return and continue her duties.
Reminiscing would not bring her back to the past. The ghosts of her friends and family could not be restored in flesh. In due time, as nature decides, she would lose her connection to the world and join her friends in whatever afterlife awaited them. Perhaps Alex would be crossed with her for taking another lover, and Rosie would feel betrayed by being replaced with a boy that shared her tired eyes and dark hair. Or Rosie would be intrigued by having a brother that aged when she never had the chance to, and Alex would be the one that stays with her for all of eternity.
She desperately wanted the latter to be how her journey would end, but what she wanted and reality had never been friends. She would have to accept whatever decision they made. Of course, in her heart, she knew that her dog would be thrilled to see her. He would attach her with a flourish of kisses and it would be like he never departed from her life. He was her constant and she knew that would never change.
With a hand on the door of the house, she opened it one last time for the evening and took a breath of the air that hung warmly. Sunlight peeked past her, illuminating the cottage. A bed that had never been laid in called for her, and a small fridge that somehow always contained cheese and apples cut into small triangles begged for her to costume them.
The house called for her to live inside of it, to stay, and to take pleasure in all of the luxuries it could provide.
Instead, she felt the familiar pulse of the pain in her chest begin to travel through her and the door begin to close. Taking a step back, her body moved to the Demon Door that flowed a dark purple and before she could stop herself, she was jumping through the door with a small grunt.
One day soon, she would return and find herself in the same pattern of thoughts. Perhaps she would sit on the bed that always begged for her bodily heat. Maybe have a swing at the bunny that eyed her cautiously or she would bathe in the stream.
One day she would enjoy the pleasures that the world behind the Demon Door begged her to take. One day she would allow herself to.
Author's Notes: It's been five years since I've written anything. I hope you enjoyed it.