35 - Blue Peter

Blue Peter is made an offer. Revelations from across the seas and close to home occur.

"Lady Olivia! You're okay!" Peony squeaked as she happened upon Olivia Gresley storming down the hallway towards North's room. "Is everything okay?"

Olivia ignored her query and rounded on her, towering over the young lady.

"North's research," Olivia demanded, ignoring her question. "Do you know where it is Peony?"

"Oh um," Peony looked puzzled and frowned, thinking. "I'm not sure. North never spoke to me. He just pulled me out of my engine while it was in the scrapyards, pointed me to Hendrick's house and told me to go and help him. I never spoke to him after that."

A sour look appeared on Peony's face. "Not that I'd want to talk to him, he was so nasty to me while we were engines!"

Peony's momentary frustration faded and she looked back at Olivia, her arms folded and an annoyed look on her face.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Peony bowed her head embarrassed.

"Can you tell me at least where North frequented? Maybe where he went when he wasn't at the estate?"

"Oh! He used to own a house on Rooster's farm in Scotland!" Peony exclaimed. "It was the groundsman's cottage at the edge of a field near a forest! It used to piss Cock 'O the North to no end but he accepted it because, well I don't actually know why-"

"Do you at least know where Rooster's farm is?" Olivia asked and Peony nodded her head furiously.

"It's near the Lakes District! Just South of Carlisle!" Peony piped up excitedly. "Rooster farms sheeps and ducks!"

"Sheep, Peony," Olivia chided her, though her previously furious expression was relaxing and being replaced by a softer expression. "Plural of Sheep is sheep."

Peony nodded to her. "You sound like- never mind."

Peony stopped what she was saying the second she saw anger reignite in Olivia's eyes.

"I want you to take me to that cottage," Olivia asked and Peony stared at her alarmed.

"Lady Olivia I- I can't! I don't even know the address of Rooster's farm! He just takes me there for holidays occasionally-"

"Cease," Olivia quickly ordered, sensing that Peony was going to ramble. Olivia had turned away from Peony now, glancing down the corridor as if looking for something.

Peony gave a soft gasp as a golden glow began emanating from around Olivia's neck.

"Lady Olivia! Your Golden Whistle!"

"I don't have my Golden Whistle-" Olivia began to snap but looked down at her chest and gave a soft gasp. "This, this isn't mine or Scotsman's?"

"Um, Mr Mallard gave it to you!" Peony quickly informed her as Olivia stared at it. "He uh, well it's Great Northern's Golden Whistle!"

Olivia froze.

"What?"

"Great Northern had a Golden Whistle but he could never use it because Sir Nigel Gresley had passed away and it lost its power!" Peony explained as Olivia carefully examined the whistle around her neck. "Mallard took it and gave it to you when North, um, died."

Peony had gone pale in the face and looked as if she was going to be sick but Olivia did not see, too busy focusing on the whistle around her neck.

"Then why is it-" Olivia began as she went to grasp it but the second her hand touched the whistle, she suddenly vanished in a flash of golden light.

"Lady Olivia!" Peony shrieked in surprise and horror, but it was to no avail.

Olivia had gone.

"Do you think my brother has been infected with Black Smoke after his foolishness?" King George V asked of Mr Corbyn as the man jumped down from his footplate and trudged his way through the ballast to the closed engine shed that sat ominously before the Great Western Leader.

"No, I had the North Western, Golden Warden check," the man replied bitterly. "Thomas could not find anything except snide remarks and an arrogant fool. All of the actions King Edward I did, he did it under no influence. He is not another Mallard."

King George V frowned and looked up the stare at the doors before him, watching as a couple of the railway hands unlocked and unbolted them.

The King Class did not want to believe that his own brother had said such things about his twin, yet, he could believe it entirely. There always had been no positives he could say about the younger, King Edward I, other than, his brother, Rhion, was better.

He remembered the engine as a young iron, arrogantly demeaning others around him, always thinking that he was the pride of the fleet and taking pleasure in making others feel small. And when things did not go King Edward I's way he would pin the blame on others or play the victim. Much like his little accomplice, Clun Castle.

Though, to his shame, Eurion did similar things when he was younger. He too had been unkind and cruel to others, demeaning the little station pilots, treating the City Classes and Star Classes as old and inferior, antagonising the Night Owls awake as they tried to sleep during the day and even demeaning the prized Castle Classes who championed against the Big 4's other express engines. They were 'Super Castles' and they did away with their smaller brethren.

Unlike his brother, however, Eurion liked to think, no, hoped, that he had grown out of such childish and immature behaviour. He had grown to love the Castle's and appreciate the small Tank Engines and what they did.

Yet, King Edward I, continued to insist on being a childish brute, never taking accountability and demanding that others do his hard work.

He should have clamped down on that behaviour, Eurion thought to himself. He should have done more to nip it in the bud, then perhaps, this fiasco with Lady of Legend would not have happened.

"King George," a voice called to him and drew him out of his thoughts. "Focus please."

"Yes sir, I apologise sir," The King Class gave himself a little shake to lose the tension that had been building in his springs. "I was contemplating."

"You will have all the time to do that afterwards," Mr Corbyn clapped his hands and the workers nodded to him before wrenching the doors to the engine berth wide open. "Now we have important things to discuss."

The dull pink blue glow of the dawn drifted into the berth, illuminating its cantankerous and obstreperous occupant who glared at them with a hateful and condescending look in his eyes.

"I'd wipe that look off your face extremely quickly if I were you, 6024," King George snarled at him. "Lode Star, Mr Corbyn and I have decided what to do with you and Castle Class, 7029."

King Edward I, or 6024 raised an eyebrow at the elder King Class, mirth in his gaze.

"No, City of Truro? Did he lack the boiler plates to confront me, the coward?"

"City of Truro is no longer the Great Western Golden Warden," Corbyn informed the engine smoothly and in return the King Class gave a taunting and mocking laugh.

"The old man finally gave up, how sad, is he going to be a museum piece now the old fool?" King

Edward I sneered, trying to get a rise out of his brother.

King George V simply stared at his brother blankly, refusing to give the younger what he wanted. Seeing that he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted, King Edward I stopped laughing and frowned at him.

"Good riddance I say," King Edward I humphed, his tone taking on an arrogant and snobby tone. "Truro was nothing but a useless, soft, old man with no boiler plates for true leadership."

"Compassion and empathy is not a weakness, 6024," Mr Corbyn interjected. "He was probably the only reason that you got away with so much for so long. You should be thankful that he allowed you such freedoms. He wanted to believe that you could be better given time."

"Why are you using my number?" King Edward I hissed angrily, indignant that he was suddenly being . "I have a name. You will use it."

He was ignored, however.

"Is that why you did all this? To take Truro's place as Golden Warden? How long have you been planning this?" King George demanded but he was only met with peels of manic laughter from his brother.

"Such a long time, brother," King Edward I hissed threateningly, his eyes locked on his brother with a venomous gaze. "And I have no intention of stopping."

King George held his brother's gaze, not at all intimidated by the younger.

"And how shall you do that when you have no power?" King George asked smoothly.

King Edward I raised an eyebrow at him.

"There's nothing you could do that would ever stop me," he hissed but for the first time in this interaction, the Leading King Class cracked a smile.

"An engine without a name has no power in the Great Western," King George informed his wayward brother and for the first time, the arrogant look in his eyes faltered.

"You wouldn't dare desecrate me!" King Edward I boomed furiously but his brother and Mr Corbyn remained unfazed.

"The name Merfyn will be taken from you and given to a new Great Western build," Mr Corbyn coldly alliterated. "Your engine will be locked and your wheels shall turn no longer."

"No!" King Edward I snarled furiously. "You can't do this to me!"

"Considering your lack of sympathy and care about your twin brother's condition, it has been decided that this was the only fate that could befall someone so… vile and unfeeling!" Corbyn snarled back at the engine who was now straining against the clamps and blocks around his wheels.

"I had hope for you, but I see now that Hamilton was right," King George regrettably informed his brother. "You can never fix a narcissist."

"This is an outrage!" King Edward I or 6024, thundered, not even acknowledging his brother's comments. "You wouldn't dare do this to me! I'll scrap you! I'll kill anyone who stands in my way!"

Mr Corbyn turned on his heel to look back at King George who was staring at his now ranting and raving brother with disdain and a hint of sadness. He managed to take his eyes off his completely incensed brother and to the man before him.

"I think we're done here sir," King George V finally conceded, refusing to look back at the engine that was once his brother. There was sadness in his voice that he could not hide but he tried to remain stoic as best he could. "This nameless engine is no longer worth our time."

Mr Corbyn nodded to King George V before making his way back on to his footplate and with a ring of his Golden Bell, the prestigious King Class hissed a cloud of steam and departed without another word to 6024 who still screeched and hollered like a deranged demon that was about to be dragged back to hell.

Blue Peter had no idea how long it had been since Saint Mungo had gone to check in on Tornado, but in that time the sun had dipped below the horizon and a brisk cold breeze had begun to blow fallen autumn leaves into his shed.

Oh great, he bitterly thought to himself, now he had to content with leaves on the line on his morning run to Crovan's Gate.

He didn't mind being alone with his thoughts, after all he had spent most of preservation alone but now that Mungo had reappeared in his smokebox, he felt himself wishing for him to return.

He was conflicted, ashamed even.

Saint Mungo had always been there, watching him and unable to communicate with him. He had probably seen everything that Blue Peter had done. Every single awful and horrible thing he had done to his baby sister.

Instead of looking after her, being a good elder cousin to her and teaching her how to be a good engine he had rejected her. Belittled her, made her feel worthless.

He was surprised that Saint Mungo hadn't outright rejected him, spurred him as a friend, as a family member. Instead his cousin had taken pity on him.

Blue Peter wasn't sure which was worse.

To be shunned or to be pitied. Neither option seemed all that better than the other but he knew that he would be deserving of either.

He was roused from his thoughts as the distant chuffing of an engine approaching him echoed through the trees, cutting through the autumn night. He looked up, the lamp of the approaching engine shining through the trees and casting menacing shadows across the tracks.

He held his breath. The Peppercorn wasn't easily spooked, wasn't easily intimidated, many engines had tried but being alone on the North Western, away from everything he knew and the ghost of the Mungo had made him as jumpy as a new iron.

What if it was the Great Western's? What if it was King Edward I who came to take vengeance on him or perhaps Clun Castle, the snivelling old cow who had a tendency to target those who had pissed her off.

"Blue Peter!" A loud boisterous voice called to him and Peter sagged on his frames, the tension he had been holding himself to suddenly relinquishing his boiler and the vice-like grip on his smokebox vanished.

"Sir?" Blue Peter called, squinting against the lamplight of the engine that Sir Topham had decided to use. The sound of its drivers was familiar but ancient.

As the engine approached, the glare from their lights eased on his eyes and he was suddenly face to face with a type of engine he hadn't seen in a very long time.

A Stirling Single.

"Hello Blue Peter," the Single greeted him with a friendly smile and Blue Peter stared at her confused. "I'm Emily."

"It's er, nice to meet you, Emily," Blue Peter replied, managing to give her a small smile.

He really wasn't in the mood to meet people right now, however, Sir Topham Hatt was present and so he felt obliged to be mindful of his manners.

Peter's attention was drawn by the crunching ballast and he looked down to find the North Western Railway's controller approaching him, a wide, beaming smile on his face.

"Good Evening Blue Peter, I hope that you are well!" The man greeted him and Blue Peter stared at him, unsure of what to make of the man's pleasant demeanour.

"I am, I am fine, sir," Blue Peter acknowledged and Sir Topham nodded to him.

"I never acknowledged you stopping Evening Star from damaging Clun Castle beyond repair," the man explained. "I am grateful to you and you've proven yourself a worthy and good engine."

Blue Peter cleared his smokebox in response.

"I don't believe that myself sir," the Peppercorn lamented. "I just… I don't know."

Sir Topham Hatt looked thoughtful for a second then his lips pressed into a thoughtful frown.

"Why don't you believe that, Blue Peter?" He finally asked.

"I'm a terrible engine, sir," Blue Peter explained. "I abandoned my only family, I have pushed away anyone who has ever considered giving me a second chance."

"Interesting," The man in the top hat mused. "And so what do you think of your actions in stopping Evening Star? Were they bad? What made you want to stop her?"

Blue Peter considered the man's question for a long while. Just why had he stopped Evening Star?

"I hadn't intended to save Evening Star, sir," he finally admitted to the Controller after a long pause. "I was going after Tydfil, I wanted to save her from King Edward the First and Clun Castle."

Sir Topham Hatt raised a hand to his chin, his expression one of surprise now.

"Really now? And why did you want to save Tydfil?"

"Because-" Blue Peter hesitated. He was unsure of how to answer that.

Why had he gone off to save Tydfil? After all, Evening Star threatening him should have stopped him from involving himself in the mess of a situation. Yet, it hadn't.

He had instead risked tender and smokebox to stop a very angry and powerful engine that would have easily crushed his boiler should she have hit him hard enough.

Why?

"Was it because you felt ashamed of how you treated Tornado?" Emily suddenly accused and Blue Peter glared at her in response. The Stirling Single didn't even look bothered by his glare and stared him straight in the eye. "It is, isn't it? You thought that saving Tydfil would ease the guilt you feel from how you've treated Tornado!"

Blue Peter's glare softened but still he said nothing. He was silent and still.

Seeing that Peter wasn't going to respond, he cleared his throat and both engines looked at him.

"I can see that there's some truth to Emily's words by the look on your face," Sir Topham pointed out and the Peppercorn broke eye contact with him and looked away.

"Yes sir," was all Blue Peter could lamely offer. "Emily is correct, sir. I do feel ashamed of how I treated Tornado."

"And you want to try and redeem yourself for your past mistakes?"

He supposed that was true. But he couldn't be sure. He wanted to help Tydfil. He had seen how the other Great Westerns had treated her and it had unnerved him. Was it a reflection of how he treated Tornado? Was he just projecting his feelings? Blue Peter wasn't sure.

He suddenly became aware that his frames were shaking. For how long he wasn't sure but out of the corner of his eye he could see that Emily's expression had become concerned.

"Blue Peter?" Emily asked, her voice filled with worry.

Anger flared in the Peppercorn. It was bad enough that Mungo was pitying him. He didn't need this Sudrian engine to look down on him as well.

"I don't know!" Blue Peter snapped, frustrated. "I just don't know! I'm confused, alright! What is this, a therapy session?!"

Emily and the Sudrain Controller shared a glance before returning their attention to him.

"I and my predecessors before me championed the railways of Sodor as a second chance for lost, broken or tormented engines," Sir Topham Hatt began. "I like to think that we've kept that promise for over 100 years."

Blue Peter just stared at the man blankly, not understanding what the man was implying.

"I'm sure that you've heard about Green Arrow being lent to us on the condition that he behaves himself and works for the railway," the man continued. Blue Peter's brow creased in confusion.

Was the man really-?

"Are you offering me a place on Sodor, sir?" Blue Peter cut in before he could finish and Sir Topham grinned up at him.

"I am," he confirmed and Blue Peter stared down at him. "If Green Arrow can redeem himself, then I believe that you can too."

"I-" The Peppercorn was speechless.

It was strange. He'd wanted nothing more than to be part of a railway again since the days of the LNER. Nothing more than to be accepted. To have a place to call home.

Yet, he didn't want this.

Deep in his boiler he knew that this wasn't what he truly wanted. Though the problem was, he really didn't actually know what he wanted.

His expression turned to one of sadness and he looked away from the Single and the Railway Controller.

"Blue Peter?" Sir Topham asked of him concerned.

"I- I must decline your generous offer, sir," the A2 Peppercorn regretfully answered. " I am not being ungrateful, sir. I am honoured that you would even consider me being apart of your railway but-"

"It's not what you want," Sir Topham realised and Blue Peter gave a soft sigh in response.

"Yes sir," Blue Peter confirmed. "I'm not sure what I want but, but I know it's not this."

Sir Topham Hatt nodded to him. "I understand, you wish to return to the mainland?"

"Yes sir," Blue Peter replied. "I would like to try and rebuild relationships with those whose bridges I burned."

"That will be hard," Emily pointed out. "The mainland isn't exactly kind."

"I know," Blue Peter acknowledged. "But staying on Sodor will only be putting off what I should be doing to improve myself."

Sir Topham Hatt looked incredibly proud and delighted at his words.

"It's been interesting, having you here, Blue Peter," the man beamed at him proudly. "If you ever need to take a break from the mainland, you're welcome to come back."

"Thank you, sir," Blue Peter managed to give the Sudrian Controller a smile.

"I'll make some arrangements for you to head back to the mainland, I'll hopefully have a place for you to go by tomorrow morning," Sir Topham declared. "Word's spread fast of your heroics. I think you'll find a few railways have opened their berths to you again."

"I'll do my best not to let them down sir!" the Peppercorn vowed and the Controller nodded to him.

"I hope that you keep your word, Blue Peter," the man pointed at him and for some reason, Blue Peter felt his soul feel just that little bit lighter.

"Are all Australian Engines this bright?" Winston asked bewildered as 3801, Grey pulled herself into one of the sheds at Shildon. "What's with the colours, it's like the North Western on Welsh Coal!"

Horatio the Deltic Prototype chuckled as next to him, Gold practically trembled with anticipation at seeing their companion returning to their side.

"The brightest!" Grey cheerily exclaimed. "I'm Thirty-Eight-O-One! But you can call me Grey, Mr Shoebox!"

"Shoebox?!" Winston exclaimed, indignant. "Well, I never!"

"Alright then, Shoey," Grey teased, unbothered by his objection to her nickname.

Horatio just gave a boisterous laugh in response.

"Oi! I like her already! Attitude just as colourful as her paint!" The Deltic exclaimed, delighted. "She'd fit right in with us Deltics!"

"It ain't matter to me what yer powered by just so long as yer not a cu-" Gold quickly cleared their throat, stopping Grey mid-sentence. "Oh right, forgot you lot were a bunch of wet blankets."

Bittern gave Winston a shameful, embarrassed glance while Pendennis burst out laughing.

"I miss Australia," Pendennis sighed wistfully and Bittern snorted in response.

Winston however looked nervous and worried.

"Are you all like this in Australia?" Winston asked Pendennis, unable to hide the concern in his voice. "Rude and incredibly uncouth?"

Grey humphed and pouted at him.

"Oi, listen here Mr Fancy Wheels, I ain't come halfway across the world to be judged by some engine who thinks he's better than everyone else!" Grey snapped at him. "Where we come from you damn well earn your respect and if you go about parading around on a high horse as you do, you best get off it quick smart or they'll be hell to pay."

Winston looked taken aback by the upfront attitude of 3801. No engine in the entirety of the United Kingdom would ever dare speak down to him, especially in such an uncouth and boisterous manner.

Before he could even respond, Pendennis quickly cut in.

"Don't worry about it Winnie, it's nothing personal," the Castle explained with a smile. He then looked over to see City of Truro's engine, the smokebox door blank and soulless. He was about to bring it up, however the haunting whistle of an A4 cut him off.

"What the hell happened to Truro!?" Bittern exclaimed in alarm as he suddenly noticed Truro's engine half hidden behind Winston. "Did the Cold Iron Sleep get him?! Is he dead!" Scotsman's going to be-"

"Easy fella!" Horatio beseeched the large streamlined engine. "Truro's just off doing business, as in he's making sure Scotsman does do something stupid."

"Oh! That's Truro?" Grey suddenly piped up and Winston looked at her. She was being remarkably unphased by the fact the engine had no face. "I thought that he would be bigger! Why is he so small?"

"You're… you're not concerned with the fact he doesn't have a face?" Pendennis asked bewildered.

"Course not! He's out in his human build right?" Grey intoned as if it was a completely normal occurrence.

"Human build? You, ah, well we call the Constructs," Winston explained. "They are made out of Gold Dust, the very essence of an engine."

"Ah, so it's different here! Good to know mate, good to know!" Grey eagerly prattled on but then noticed the still-shocked expressions of Pendennis and Bittern.

"What do you mean 'Constructs?' Where is Truro?!" Pendennis demanded, his voice filled with fear. "What are you talking about? Gold Dust?"

"You- wait, you don't know that engine souls can take different forms?" Gold asked, confused, as they stared at the Castle and Pacific.

"Scotsman always said that the UK was stuffy and behind the times but good lord," Grey huffed, a critical eye examining the engines around her. "You don't know even the basics of how or why you're sentient?"

"Only those in the Golden Circle know the true nature of engines," Winston affirmed and Grey and Gold scoffed, appalled.

"Bunch of stuck up cun-," Gold began but they were cut off by Pendennis's distressing cries.

"Would someone please tell me where my friend is!" He pleaded, staring at Truro. "Where is Truro! Why is his engine blank!"

Winston quickly rolled forward and approached Pendennis, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Pendennis, you have my word that Truro is safe," the Battle of Britain Class assured him. "He is with Scotsman and you know that when they are together, they will be safe."

Pendennis didn't look convinced but the mention of Scotsman and Truro being together seemed to calm him and the trembling in his frames eased.

"I don't see why the UK is so strict," Grey muttered quietly and Winston shot her a glare which she returned. "It should be a right that you engines have the freedom to experience life instead of being confined to your build. You're sentient beings, it's cruel to be locked in on your engine your entire lives."

Gold hummed in agreement, their radiator giving off a soft purr.

"I don't understand," Bittern demanded. "What the hell is going on?"

"Oh for fucks sake this is ridiculous," came the loud cursing of the Deltic. Winston looked alarmed at the diesel.

"Horatio don't you dare-"

"Enough! 3801 is right! Being confined to our engines is no life at all!" The Deltic prototype snarled before his face was suddenly illuminated by a golden light.

Pendennis and Bittern's eyes widened in horror as the light for Horatio's face began to solidify and form into a physical and very familiar form.

The face upon the Deltic Prototype No.1 face completely disappeared and standing before the engine was the picture of a man, tall but with the profile of a powerlifter, a greying beard and a mane of long wild black but greying hair.

"Ah, look at you!" Grey cheered as Pendennis and Bittern stared at the man, DP1's construct, speechless. "Wild and unkempt! Very you! I like it!"

"My thanks, Lady Grey," Horatio smirked and Grey wheeshed steam at him. Winston was watching over the entire thing with a look of despair on his face.

"Cheeky," she tutted before looking at Pendennis and Bittern who had still not said a single thing. "I think those two are gone, need a minute, mate. Those two look like they just got turned a blue."

There was an awkward silence as Pendennis and Bittern struggled to comprehend what just happened.

Then Bittern turned his attention to Grey.

"What the fuck does 'Turned a blue' mean?"

"Language Bittern!" Winston scolded the A4, but the LNER Pacific paid him no heed.

Quicksilver was surprised to find Jaqueline Gresley on her doorstep. Jaqueline never called upon her. She never had and promised she never would, especially after Olivia was born.

Jaqueline had wanted her children to have nothing to do with her past.

Nothing whatsoever.

Jaqueline knew fully what she was, what North was and refused to acknowledge them, to keep her sanity and to avoid those horrendous memories.

Out of the safety of her children. The best they could do to protect her was watch over her, North keeping a close eye on all of them.

Not that he helped. The man was just as useless as he had been when he was an engine, if not more so. Great Northern had very much not helped matters. She always wondered what Sir Gresley had seen in him. It baffled her.

'But that was just iher opinion/i,' Quicksilver snidely recalled to herself.

"Jacqueline?" Quicksilver asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

"North is dead," the woman stated coldly and Quicksilver stared at her.

Mallard hadn't gotten back to her and the former Silver A4 suspected that he wasn't going to. Mallard was a fickle engine, especially as a youngster..

To keep him busy, perhaps?

"How can you be sure?" Quicksilver questioned, folding her arms across her chest.

"I just know," Jaqueline snapped.

"I haven't heard anything from Sir Nigel," Quicksilver frowned and narrowed his eyes at her, to which Jaqueline glared at the former A4.

"Olivia is going to find his research," Jaqueline warned. "She's going to find out the truth."

Quicksilver's eyes widened in shock.

"How do you know?"

"Hendrick watched Mallard give Olivia North's Golden Whistle," Jaqueline frowned at the former A4, arms crossed over her chest.

"Ah."

Quicksilver knew it had been risky to involve Mallard. She would not hear the end of this from Sir Nigel, she just knew it.

"I need to know where Pretty Polly's engine is," Jaqueline quickly interjected before Quicksilver could formulate a plan.

"Why do you need to know that?"

"I need to tell Olivia the truth myself," Jaqueline admitted quietly and Quicksilver frowned at her.

"You should have done that a long time ago, iJackie/i," Quicksilver coldly disputed.

Jaqueline narrowed her eyes at Quicksilver and an expression of disdain spread across her face.

"You are the last person to be able to judge me, Quicksilver," she advised coldly. "You and North both. Sitting at the centre of your webs of lies and deceit. Now tell me, where is Pretty Polly's engine and I won't rat you out to Olivia, Stanier and the rest of the Golden Order."

"You wouldn't dare," Quicksilver hissed aghast, but there was fear in her eyes.

"You've been trying to control my narrative for long enough. You won't turn my own daughter against me," Jaqueline fumed, her eyes a deadly glare. "Now tell me, where did North hide Pretty Polly's engine?"

The both of them stared at one another for a very long while.

Finally, Quicksilver relented.

"Very well, it's on Rooster's Farm, the old Groundsman's cottage," Quicksilver revealed reluctantly. "You'll find the entrance in the well."

Jaqueline looked pleased and spun on her heel, storming down the garden path without another word, Quicksilver watching her leave, feeling her blood boil at the amount of disrespect the woman had just shown her.

Uncharacteristically, Quicksilver allowed herself to spit venom at the retreating woman.

"You're just as cursed as you were when you were still an engine, Merry," she snarled viscously.

Quicksilver had no idea if the woman heard her, but she received no response.

Grey is unapologetically Australian and everyone must deal with it. :) Writing Blue Peter was a joy this chapter. If I could, I would have put the focus on him and Tornado for Young Iron but a bit late now.

This series has almost reached half a million words. I am scared.

"Turned a Blue"means, been in a fight or a variation of it depending what part of Australia you're in.