Business first: I hope you are all having an absolutely amazing Christmas season. Whether it be with your family and the traditions you grew up with or with a new family or even just important friends, let this be a holiday of bonding, gratitude, and laughter.
Life races ahead of us without scarce allowing us to breathe and it's easy to forget that the years that race by are also years of living and breathing that are slipping away. You get older, your parents get older, your grandparents get older. Appreciate the people important to you this Christmas. Take that time to sit and talk, to fill your grandparents in on your goals, hug your mom and remind her that you'll always be her kid, stay up late laughing with that friend who means everything.
Jesus is the reason for the season. The season is about sacrifice that's more recognized as giving now. Give the gifts, but give the emotional commitment as well this year.
I'm leaving home and flying the nest in three months. It's a freeing and yet drowning weight, one that flutters in my chest during the day and churns in my stomach at night. Every occasion that we pass--Thanksgiving, my twentieth birthday, Christmas--I am reminded that I don't know where I'll be next year.
So I'm giving these holidays as much as I have to offer. Sitting and working through my plans with my extended family. Listening to my mom when she wants me to take someone with me to do errands, even if I'll on my own soon anyways. Sometimes, the greatest gift you can offer is a willing spirit and opens arms.
Merry Christmas, guys. Truly. Hopefully you have snow on the ground outside, or some favorite Christmas music blasting right now. (And have a joyous New Year's!)
Now, onto the writing portion of this post.
I've got two things to post--the Jade drabble will be first. We were in the car for three+ hours this afternoon and inspiration struck like lightening for a musing deviant!Jade scrawl. It came out of nowhere, so there's your reasoning for how irregular it is.
The second I decided to try and do a couple of days ago, and we'll see if I can push through and finish before too long. Basically, I watched a romcom Christmas movie called A Princess for Christmas (it is as bad as it sounds, despite some familiar acting faces) and decided there needed to be a Jandy and Dechlan AU for it. Hopefully, my take on the sad plot is a bit better.
I found twenty-five, Christmas themed prompts and have written four of them, plus an intro. Also, the writing ability is a tad rusty and they might suck. Just as a warning.
In a clinical, intimate way, Jaydn is aware that she could burn down the galaxy with her bare hands, if she put her mind to it. It would be easy—start at the top and topple everything on her way down.
Wars are easy to start—far easier than ending them, to say the least. (She knows, she’s done both before.)
Sometimes, she thinks about it, when it late and dark and there’s blood dripping from her fingertips onto her soul. It’s impossible to not know what her parents have tamed, have harnessed and set loose upon those who truly deserve the battering storm within her.
They do not know that it takes willpower to walk away from every ground level informant, to not kill them and leave their torn corpse on the ground behind her as she rips apart the organization they comply with one confederate at a time.
Yes, Jade wants very much, sometimes. To let the black tide swell and break in her breast and set the incendiary that ends everything. There is the ability in her hands to shoot governments between the eyes and make syndicates fall on their own swords and the knowledge causes her being tremble—with fear, with excitement, it’s hard to say.
But the turbulent ocean within is dammed, held back with an iron hand by what she has been raised and taught by. The sure fingers and calloused palms that could rain down terror and destruction at will have been pressed against the cheeks of her mother, held by the rough hands of her father. Jaydn looks down at the supernova contained by flesh and bone and sees the tears they have wiped away from the cheeks of their merriment incarnate, the anger they have staid and the recklessness they have quelled. Her makers have built a guardian, protector, defender, instead of stirring the roiling chaos.
Jade knows to be grateful. That is the response, when disaster is averted.
But oh, how she longs to be destruction. To break through the stays and blaze a path through the stars that will be spoken of for a millennia. The thought alone is heady, seductive, the most powerful philter she’s ever experienced. The desire to cut her ties, to sever her links to sentiment and attachment and weakness, is overpowering. The universe is at her fingertips, she just has to take it.
Jaydn wants, very much. But she quells with the same might that would bring down the heavens and force them to their knees before her. She channels the impulse into their cause, into a glance that makes men falter with foreboding, into the slow breaths she takes before the trigger depresses beneath her touch. Her facade of overprotective becomes her cover and yet is not a show in the least.
If there would ever be a reason to become the arsonist history would never know and never forget, it would be for the humans who have shaped her world and give her a purpose. Jade knows, subconsciously and on every waking level, that her making will be her breaking. The provocation to coax the phoenix to eruption would be rooted in the five mortals that have caged her demons.
Again, don't ask me. The inspiration bowled me over like a speeding train and then sped away before I could tag along to get some work done on the Jandy/Dech prompts. Yay.
Onto the fun stuff!
Mild Warning for brief crass wording. For lack of a better explanation. Jandy wanted to cuss everybody out, but we kept it PG.
(prompts from tumblr blog, the-girlwhowouldbeking, and the plot might be from a Christmas-themed romance called A Princess for Christmas.)
So, this is how the story goes. On her twenty-fifth birthday—well, our twenty-fifth birthday—Jane Miriam Sparks married one (disowned) Charles Yates Scott of Manchester, England, and they were as happy as two beings could be together. I would know; I lived nearby for the first six months of their marriage before Jane told me to live the life I’d never had because of her.
It was little over a year later that I came back when their daughter, Adeline Ella was born, with breathtaking brown eyes and the softest wisps of hair. Jane cried, Charles cried, and I laughed a lot. Life has held a lot of things for me, but being an aunt was one I never imagined.
I’d been traveling for my job when I got a call that ended everything.
As if one near-fatal incident with a car wasn’t enough for my baby sister, she and Charles were both killed in a head-on collision three days before Christmas.
It took social services another month to track me down and when they did—there’s no thinking at that point, you know?
She’s my niece and she had nobody else but me. I dropped everything and went to find her.
You want to know what really steams me? Charles’ family got called before me, because apparently if you’ve got a family of somebodies who disowned their son offhand, they’re the ones to contact first before the nobody sister.
Here’s the real kicker: they did nothing. I talked to the hospital staff, social services, the foster family who had Adeline and the most contact any of them received from across the pond was one fax and a phone call.
The call said the fax was coming and the fax was paperwork relinquishing any rights to their parentless granddaughter.
Pissed off doesn’t quite cover it.
Though I admit relief to not have to fight any custody battles. Jandy Sparks off the streets of NYC doesn’t quite hold the same shine as English monarchy.
Adeline has been mine for almost a year of all-nighters, fevers, and soiled diapers and last week this suit who introduced himself as Thomas—just Thomas, mind you; first name, last name, help me out here—told me that the Scott family wants Adeline and I to come out for Christmas.
Out to England. Me. With an infant who’s still sensitive to loud noises and unfamiliar places.
That’s rich.
But I’m a sleep-deprived, pseudo-mom that’s also an idiot and I said yes after a day of stewing.
When it comes down to it, how many chances are going to roll around to find out about Adeline’s father and his roots? I want to be able to tell her about the man who loved her mother enough that he left a fairytale behind for her.
My main stipulation, of course, was room, board, and airfare. Look up the costs of traveling halfway around the world to England. At peak holiday season, no less.
Thomas arranged everything for us and then left a few days in advance to “prepare for our arrival”. I packed two suitcases, an umbrella stroller, and the fullest military-grade backpack known to mankind, and got on a plane to the United Kingdom with a baby in a carrier.
1—Mistletoe
Gritty eyes, an aching head, and a bent-out-of-shape neck were doing nothing for Jandy’s mood. Adeline had done very little but fuss for the majority of their four connecting flights spanning almost an entire day of travel.
Jandy stood on the airport sidewalk in somewhere called Manchester, breathing in the crisp air, her niece bundled up well in her carseat—finally out for the count. The indoors had gotten too stifling so she’d undergone the exhausting process of moving them outside, hoping help would arrive soon.
Christmas decor had been liberally applied to the towering structure, with red bows and evergreen garlands, and high, high above the hub of activity inside, little pieces of mistletoe tacked onto the streamlined arches.
Jandy had had more than enough time to study each and every one of them while waiting for anyone to show up and rescue them. It had also given her ample opportunity to question, once again, why she was even here.
The answer was inescapable—for Adeline.
For Adeline, and for what might very well be her only chance to know the world of the father she’d never know.
Everything Jandy did was for her niece now, much like once her every waking moment had been committed to Jane.
Letting out a long breath, Jandy crouched down to peek beneath the blanket pulled over the baby’s face. Aside from a pink nose from the warmth of her little cocoon, the baby slumbered on, lost to the world.
There must’ve been a miscommunication about their arrival—hadn’t that Thomas fellow said someone would be waiting to drive them the two remaining hours to the manor where Charles had been raised?
Jandy stifled a groan but didn’t want to let it out, considering the bustle of people also on the sidewalk and a lack of desire to be seen as the whacked out Yank. More than she already was, in her bold blue Short But Dangerous t-shirt and the undercut style to her hair that she was loathe to grow out, even with her new identity as mother first, kickboxing trainer second.
Kneading at the crick in her neck, Jandy resigned herself to her fate and looked up when a man said, “You have my most sincere apologies, Miss Sparks, for the delay.”
2—Hot Chocolate
“Would you like any particular beverages, Miss Sparks? I can have Anne bring it up to your room. Tea? Mulled wine? Perhaps some hot chocolate?” Thomas asked as he escorted Jandy up the icy front steps of the frosted manor, one hand at her elbow.
Misbalanced as she was while toting Adeline about, the trainer was thankful for the support. Two plus hours in a car was doing nothing for her right now. “Just a couple bottles of water and if you have some milk on hand we can warm up, I’d like to get some of that into Adeline before we crash out.”
Anything further she might’ve had to say was wiped away when they moved through the mud room into the entryway—if it could be called that. The ceiling was high, the wooden floorboards gleaming, and the columns along the walls of unblemished marble. She’d never watched Downton Abbey but this felt like walking right onto the set.
Decorations—garlands, bows, wreaths, poinsettias—were placed at regular, unerring intervals, adding a Christmas mood on a whole new level. Jandy's thoughts went back to her two-room apartment and the sparing, homemade evidence of the season there.
Trust the Scott family to make her feel inadequate from the get go, she mused, too drained to get worked up about it.
Jandy eased Adeline’s carrier to the floor, dark gaze flickering from paintings to doors and then to Thomas, who stood by with a patient smile. His suit was still perfectly crisp despite the long return trip to Dunham Manor.
“The manor and grounds have belonged to the Scott family for many generations. It may look aged on the surface, but it receives regular refurbishments and upgrades, have no fear. You will find everything is quite modern.” The butler explained, gesturing to the long hall ahead of them in invitation.
With her suitcases already being toted to unknown regions of the house, Jandy picked up the carseat again and offered a brief smile. “Good to know. Do I need to worry about looking like a slob for a welcoming committee?”
“No, ma’am. Mr. and Mrs. Scott have retired already and the rest of the family will not arrive for two days yet.”
Thomas led the way across the waxed floors and Jandy finally decided to just explore tomorrow, focusing on the black suit coat ahead of her with a single-minded focus. She still had duties to attend tonight and then both she and Adeline needed a full night of sleep.
Their path wound through hallways straight out of Pride & Prejudice—one of Jane’s favorite movies—and up narrow staircases that made her thankful for the long years of training that had honed her body. Adeline was no longer six months old and the weight difference was noteworthy.
Stopping beside a set of deep mahogany doors, the butler pushed them open to reveal a tasteful, well-furnished room, complete with a pack-and-play in the corner, as per Jandy’s own wishes. The color scheme was a soothing mesh of beige and cream, heavy tan curtains pulled across two tall windows, no light peeking around the edges.
Her two stuffed suitcases were already settled on luggage stands, the backpack between them.
Jandy was relieved on several levels. No matter how bad this holiday might get, this would be a good place to retreat and sequester when needed.
Thomas turned to her and Jandy gave him her attention. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you here and go find Anne. She’ll bring up your refreshments and help you with any needs you might have. The bathroom is attached and we’ve stocked the room with a variety of supplies we thought might be necessary for Miss Adeline.”
“That sounds perfect, thank you, Thomas. I’m sure I’ll appreciate it all a lot more with a few hours of sleep under my belt.” Mild humor lightened her exhaustion and the retainer responded to it, amusement appearing on his serene features.
“It’s our pleasure, Miss Sparks. We’re grateful that you chose to come so far at a considerable personal cost and will strive to make your stay here at Dunham Manor a pleasant one.” The lilt of his accent lent the words a certain warmth that might’ve been lacking otherwise.
There was no point fighting the fondness already manifesting so Jandy let a laugh escape her chest. “You’re awesome, Thomas. I’ll see you in the morning?”
The colloquialism stymied him for a moment but the man recovered in an admirable amount of time. “Yes, Miss. Sleep well. Anne will be up to attend you shortly.”
3—Snow
The beeping had been sounding for several minutes now. Jandy had been ignoring it in favor of that heaven known as sleep but now Adeline was beginning to make grumbling noises.
Time to rise and conquer, then.
Flopping onto her back, the woman reached to stab at her phone—now just a glorified mp3 player, with international call rates being what they were—and then stare at the ceiling.
We’re in England. In Charles’ family home. To spend Christmas with his family.
The impossibility of the whole situation was still surreal. Jandy sat up and raked her fingers through her loose hair, tugging on the ends. Jet lag was going to be a real problem; schedule changes never went over well, especially in the last year.
Adeline cooed from her pack-and-play, tucked into the closet. Well, someone was a happy camper.
Rolling out of bed, the trainer padded across the thick rug to the window and pushed open the curtains to reveal paned-windows, frosty at the corners. The temperature must’ve dropped even further after they arrived last night, which wasn’t much of a surprise, with the way the wind had howled.
Jandy pressed her forehead to the glass, wondering if they had any decent trails around to run on. She’d packed all her exercise gear, knowing the need to get out and burn off energy would be needed every couple of days.
Snow blanketed the country side in a heavy blanket, untouched except for the shoveled road they’d arrived on. The trees were sparse past the immediate house grounds, but there were a couple other houses—estates?—on the horizon.
“Maaaaa-maaaaa,” Adeline drew out and then squealed, sounding quite alert and in a good humor—which would change when she decided she was hungry, but Jandy took what she could get.
A grin pulled at the corner of her mouth as she left the window and crossed to the closet, peeking in the crack before easing it open. “Good morning, my sunshine,” she greeted, delight spilling over at the picture that the baby made.
Adeline stood at the edge of her crib, her wide smile revealing the baby teeth they’d both suffered over. She waved her arms, a plea to be rescued, while she giggled with elation. “Up!”
“What do we say, Adeline?”
“Pease!”
“Good girl,” Jandy praised, swinging her up and out of the bed, nuzzling into her soft cheek. “Hello, my love.”
The baby babbled and cooed, chubby arms flailing before wrapping around Jandy’s neck. Adeline buried her face in her guardian’s shoulder with another bubbly laugh.
Swaying with every step, an unbreakable habit from long nights with a fussy infant, Jandy carried them both back out into the bedroom, where Adeline looked around, eyes bright with interest. A quick visual search confirmed there wasn’t anything at hand level to the eighteen-month-old to worry about so she set the baby down on her feet.
“Shall we get dressed and find breakfast, Dell?”
4—Candy Canes
Walter Scott, patriarch of the Scott family, eyed the small wreath hanging on the wall with distaste. It was an imitation—Marianne’s allergies included evergreen—but the colors were unavoidable. Bright imitation berries were mingled with miniature candy canes and warm lights, the entire piece finished off with a vivid red bow.
“Sir?”
Roland’s voice broke him from his thoughts and Walter turned to the retainer, pushing aside his irritation with the season. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Scott is awaiting your presence in the breakfast room and Thomas would like to know if Miss Sparks will be joining you for the meal.” The manservant reported without missing a beat, any feelings he might have on the situation hidden with care behind a serene front.
Walter weighed his options for a brief moment. He had a certain ambiguity to the presence of his only grandchild, unable to decide his feeling until he actually saw her, but he knew Mari would want to see the child. “Inform Thomas to send Anne up for Miss Sparks and—my granddaughter. I’ll join my wife in the meantime.”
“Very well, sir.” Roland offered a brief bow and departed, disappearing into the depths of the substantial manor.
//
Jandy hadn’t expected the small, cherubic maid to tell them the morning meal would be served in the breakfast room. She sat, frozen, in the middle of brushing a squirming Adeline’s hair into two ponytails, while Anne smiled, the expression genuine.
“Shall I inform them you’ll be done with Miss Adeline shortly, ma’am?”
The inquiry kicked her brain back into gear and Jandy finished putting a rubber band into her niece’s fine hair. Adeline got to her feet with a couple of grunts and hurried off to where her pile of toys was waiting. Snorting her initial amusement, the trainer stood and faced Anne.
“Yes, please. Should I change into something more—formal?” Jandy hesitated, beginning to gesture to her jeans and her navy sweater that was nice but not formal, per say.
The maid shook her head almost before the question was out. “No, ma’am. You’ll be perfectly fitting in whatever you have. Miss Elinor tends to wear what she pleases when at Dunham Manor and you’re welcome to do the same.”
Not an amazing comfort, but Jandy would take it. Offering a smile in return, she replied, “Sounds good. We just need to put on some shoes and then would be grateful for a guide.”
“It would be my pleasure, Miss!” Anne was almost as bubbly as a happy Adeline.
//
“Miss Sparks and Miss Adeline, sir,” Thomas announced when Anne stepped to the side of the door, allowing Jandy a view of a rather formal, in her opinion, breakfast table, and its two occupants.
Charles’ father had a severe face, no doubt from his time in the Royal Navy and current role in England’s political fields. His steady gaze was assessing but gave nothing else away. Jandy got the feeling that she wouldn’t know what he thought of them unless Walter wanted her to.
It was easier to see her sister’s husband in his mother—there was warmth buried deep in the creases around her mouth and eyes. But she was similarly ambiguous to their arrival.
Adeline struggled to get out of her grasp and Jandy’s attention was diverted. A glance down at the baby revealed a creased brow and a pout at her failing escape attempts. Meltdown imminent, then.
“Sorry for our tardiness. Adeline’s not a fan of shoes,” Jandy greeted, tone light but careful. The progression of this conversation would set the tone of the next two weeks and she was hyperaware of that fact.
“That’s quite alright,” Marianne Scott lilted, rising a beat and leaving the table to approach the duo with an air of politeness that didn’t set well with Jandy. “This is her, then?”
The situation was surreal—introducing a grandmother to her first grandchild as if it were no more than a business negotiation. A certain amount of regret that the relationship was at this level weighed in her chest, but it was mingled with smoldering anger. They were the ones who’d cut ties because they didn’t agree with Charles marrying an American with nothing to her name but an associate’s degree.
Missing the first year and a half of Adeline’s life was on them, not on her.
Tightening her jaw, Jandy fixed a smile on her mouth. “Yes. This is Adeline. Adeline, can you say hello to Mrs. Scott?”
Marianne’s blue eyes flickered from her granddaughter, who clung to Jandelyn’s leg and hid in her pant, to the child’s guardian. Jandy stared back, unmoved. Your play, Grandma.
The older woman relented after a beat, sorrow ghosting through her eyes as she eased down to Adeline’s level. “It would be—my honor if she would know me as grandmother, Miss Sparks.”
Triumph flared for a brief moment, unavoidable. Jandy might’ve spent too much time in fights—both of the aggressive and professional variety—but they’d taught her valuable lessons. Put up a strong front and your opponent will think twice about attacking you head on.
Crouching down as well, Jandy patted Adeline’s back when she tried to press close, ducking her face away. “Come on, Dell, your grandma wants to say hi. Can you wave?” Her powers of persuasion weren’t usually up to snuff but Adeline was feeling obedient.
She didn’t quite make eye contact, but she peeked out from Jandy’s shoulder to the stranger smiling at her, one chubby hand uncurling in a flapping motion before she hid again.
As the only witness to the quiet moment, Jandy was surprised at the tears that filled Marianne’s eyes before she hurried to blink them away. Taking pity, she scooped up Adeline and stood, finding where Thomas had pulled a chair out.
Walter hadn’t moved from his position. Casting him a brief look, Jandy took her seat and deposited Adeline on her lap, almost immediately having to grab chubby hands that lunged for the chinaware on the table.
And that's all for now! I'm hoping to do some plinking tonight while watching Persuasion, so there could be a second post yet tonight.
You guys are awesome. Keep it up.
Ad astra per aspera.
To the stars, through difficulties.
