The swan and the Goldfinch | By : Madettica Category: Anita Blake > Threesomes Plus Views: 4110 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Most characters owned by Laurell K Hamilton, however Rose is all mine.*Disclaimer: I do not own or make any money off of this story. Stuff like that.
And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
These dreams in which i'm dying, Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles its a very very
Mad World, Mad World
-Donnie Darko end song :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She visibly stiffened at his words, her eyes lost their sparkle all within a bat of her silver lashes and her gaze narrowed considerably as she continued to return Jean Claude’s steady gaze. She shifted and slipped from his lap, she crawled between us, behind us, and came to perch upon a pile of pillows, her back against the massive ebon leather headboard she resumed that self-comforting hold upon herself as if she had lost her trust in us to comfort her.
“Well your private dicks didn’t do their research well enough then if you think Swan Davenport is my real name, because it’s not…. that’s not the name I was born with.”
She spat out, seething in her hatred more of the name then Jean-Claude’s investigating into her past it seemed. Jean-Claude and I both had turned to better watch her as she fumed, but I soon felt the urge to be closer to her, as if what she might soon divulge would need my physical closeness despite the fit she was in.
“Rose…Tell us...”
I commanded softly, an appeasement and an order all in the same breathe as I moved up beside her, buffering her body against the headboard with my arm stretched and curled around her. She sighed her surrender as she came to rest her head upon my chest, her hair a shinning satin blanket upon my bare flesh. My eyes lingered upon the scars that once were mine even as my mind tried to drive out the dark reality of where else her soft body was now ruined. I pulled her closer and bid Jean-Claude closer as she again sighed, but nonetheless began her tale.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Story now shifts to Rose’s POV, kind of a flash back as she tells her beginnings to Asher and JC, so basically an inner monologue even as she’s giving the straight facts to the guys ;)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first seven years of my life I grew up pretty content. I was, to my knowledge the youngest child and only daughter to a very well off Doctor and stay at home mother. I had an older brother, five years older than me, and he treated me like any other brother would his younger sister or so I gathered. It never really occurred to me that I didn’t look anything like my mother or father, with my mismatched eyes and fair complexion.
Even when I was very young, around three or four, Mother delighted in taking me to dance classes, ballet mostly. She drove me to be the best I could be, and even then a little further. I would practice and practice, hours on end in a room mother and father fixed up to be my own private studio in the house. Jared complained of course, he was always very angry with me. Even then, without being told I knew he was jealous, jealous because I got more attention, more things, just more than him. It wasn’t until I was nine, when I was the lead in our dance studio’s production of Swan Lake that I knew the full extent of Jared’s anger.
Mother and father had come back stage before the curtain went up. I was at the bar going through positions and Mother was going through her usual instructions, telling me not to forget, not to miss a step or a position, to tighten my spins and watch where my feet landed. She gushed to father in between orders about how wonderful that their little Swan was the Swan in Swan Lake. I must admit I was preening under their seeming praise, my ego inflated with what I thought were compliments.
As a stagehand announced five minutes until curtain went up I finally noticed Jared, glaring at me from the wall where he leaned. While mother and father went to go find seats Jared remained behind, his dark chestnut eyes burning a hole right through me as he walked up to me, his hands shoved deep within his jeans pockets, and hissed.
“Funny how a Swan is actually dancing in Swan Lake… you’re such a freak and don’t even know it.”
Now by the age of nine I was used to his name-calling and childish abuse, but something that night wouldn’t let me ignore him.
“Whatever…you’re just jealous because Mom and Dad are more proud of me tonight than they’ll ever, ever, in your whole stupid life, be of you!”
His face grew bright red and I was sure he was going to haul off and hit me, but to my surprise he simply gave me a very forced grin and spoke so low and sweet, as if he were talking to a baby, something so young that it wouldn’t understand his words, but maybe his tone would get the message across.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why you don’t look like anybody in our family? Your name isn’t what they thought was so fucking cute, you’re name isn’t special it’s what you are! A freak of nature, your REAL mother died when you were a baby and MY mom and dad wanted a pretty freak to show off so they picked you…”
I couldn’t respond, even if my brain had been working, because one of the dance instructors ushered me into place on stage. I was shell shocked, my mind raced around in vicious circles even as I simply went through the motions of the recital. How could he say such cruel things? And even if they weren’t true how could he have come up with such a bizarre tale? Sure they kind of taught us about swanmanes and lycanthropes in school, not much really, but we knew what they were. A teacher had even been dismissed from the private school I went to because the administrators had discovered she was one, a lycan.
After the recital was over I was still in a daze, but I let my mother do her rounds with me, talking with the other girl’s mothers, collecting the compliments about how beautiful and talented her daughter was, how graceful, how agile…Slowly it began to sink in, this was how it had always been, mother showing me off, but not me as I knew me, but as something supernatural, a pretty object to admire. I broke away from mother mid sentence as someone was going on about how pretty I was turning out. I pushed through the crowd, tears blinding my vision; somehow I finally found my father and threw myself at him. I didn’t care if I was making a scene; I clung to him tightly, crying my heart out against his suit jacket as I wailed.
“Daddy, Jared said I’m a swanmane, that I’m not really your daughter, please tell me he’s lying please”
Eerily the entire room, which had only a moment before been a riot of talking, was now silent. Well all quiet except for the noise of my mother finding Jared and the resounding slap she laid across his face. Much to my horror, instead of the reassuring “yes he’s lying sweetie” I was scooped up into my father’s arms and carried outside and put into the family car.
Once inside the car, the man who I had always thought of as my father explained to me the cruel facts of my reality. My birth mother had in fact been a swanmane. The authorities that were in charge of my mother’s case weren’t sure who my father had been, but they assumed from my physical features and the way my mother had simply let herself waste away after my birth, that my father was a faerie of some kind. Faerie struck or something they had deemed the cause of her death.
I cried for what seemed like hours afterwards, even after I was reassured that the chances of me inheriting the swanmane curse from my mother was slim, even after my mother and Jared climbed into the car in silence and we headed back home. They all left me alone once we got back to the house, and I was almost grateful for that as I spent most of the rest of that night curled around the toilet, unable to keep anything in any longer, I had made myself so upset that I was physically sick with my sadness and anger.
My life was so very different at the Davenport house after that. Swan Lake was the last time I ever danced. I flat refused to dance after that night. I stayed clear of Jared and he gave me the same courtesy. Mother tried to find other ways to show me off, piano lessons were her first attempt, but when I became good enough to perform in front of others I up and quit. I became almost violently angry when she tried to enter me in a beauty contest, but that was her last attempt I had to endure. Father, well he withdrew from the family altogether, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen coming.
It was hard living in that house with the anger and animosity so thick you could shovel it if you wanted. Then one day after school, when I was only fifteen and just beginning to blossom into womanhood, something happened that made up my mind for me about what I should do.
I had just come back inside from swimming in the pool in our back yard, my long wet hair wrapped up turban style in a bath towel and another towel wrapped around my chest. My bare feet, still damp from my swim, slapped against the chill of the downstairs tile as I made my way to the kitchen to grab a snack before I headed up to my room to watch TV.
Jared and two of his slacker friends were visiting for the weekend from college, free loading off the food and alcohol stocked in the house. Mother was off on one of her weekend spa retreats and Dad had disappeared off to the golfing greens again. Which left me to push my way through the three inebriated losers who seemed to think that they had claims to the kitchen and all within it.
“Stuck up freak bitch…..”
One of them sneered loud enough so that I heard. I knew better than that, I was not so easily baited anymore; high school had numbed me to such pettiness. Mentally I shrugged off the comment and opened the fridge in search of something to eat.
When they realized the taunt went unnoticed by brother added ever so helpfully.
“Nah, she’s not a bitch….that’s a dog, man don’t you know she’s a fucking bird….”
It went over well with his buddies, their laughter eating at me as I grabbed a soda and an apple. As I closed the fridge and began upstairs to my room with my food one of Jared’s friends began to light a cigarette and my spine stiffened as I turned to face him. How dare he, this wasn’t his house and Dad hated the smell of smoke.
“Take it outside asshole or I’m telling my Dad, then all of you won’t have any place
close to campus to freeload off of.”
The one that had been lighting up simply finished what he had begun and took a long slow drag off of it before blowing the smoke in my face. His face tightened as he looked at me, as if I was something less than human, something so disgusting it pained him.
“You think you’re so fucking special don’t you? So pretty and magical, end all fucking be all aren’t you? You know my girlfriend of two years left me for one of you freaks….:”
His words may have been slurred by beer, but the hate was so very real. I should have left well enough alone, should have went straight to my room without another glance back, but I couldn’t let the racist bastard have the last word no matter how hard I tried to bite my tongue before the words escaped.
“Maybe your dick was too small for her…”
And before I could say another word, before I could move or scream, the bastard had reached out with his burning cigarette and burned by arm. The flesh seared beneath the smoldering butt, sending jolts of pain up the rest of my arm and across my chest. It took me a split second for my brain to register that he had actually done such a monstrous thing, that split second for the pain to become real. And then I really did scream, Lord how I screamed.
While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo