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A Letter
Title: A Letter
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Penny Dreadful, I just play with them for fun.
Fandom: Penny Dreadful
Rating: R
Category: Angst/drama
Summary: An unsent letter from Vanessa to Mina
Dear Mina,
There are things that are so important for me to say to you, but they are also the things you can never know. I want you to know that I never wanted you fiancée with the mustaches, but then I must tell you who it really, only, ever was. Him.
I remember that he always smelled cologne and clean linen and spices that belonged to sundrenched lands far away and he folded me into his arms like I belonged there as much as you did. My father smelled of old papers and iron and he never touched me, not even to spank me when I had been naughty. When we were really young I had this daydream that my father and your mother would die, from what was never really clear or even important, and then he and my mother would get married and we would all belong together. You never had that thought, I am sure, you loved both your parents.
I never told you that I saw them in the garden. I never told you of the fire that slowly started to burn that day. I think he knew I was there.
That night, the night before your wedding when I wandered through the corridors of your home, it was him I wanted to find. It had to be that night because there would be no other nights. The next day you would be married and gone to a new home and I would never sleep under his roof again. Would not see him as often again and never as close, because you would be gone. And I would only be the neighbour’s unmarried daughter. The odd one that no suitable young man seemed to be comfortable with. So I walked through the house, knowing that he would be there, that he would meet me and he would see me, really see me. See how I burned.
It was to be, I felt it so strongly, my destiny, if you want. Unavoidable. But the corridors lay empty and I walked and walked, desperation growing and the fire as well. It was all there was, desperation and fire, but I know it is no excuse. I didn’t care for your fiancée. I certainly didn’t want hím. Not really. But he was there and I saw desire in his eyes. Such as it was. It was enough right then. Not after, not ever after. After there were only regrets and searing shame.
I hope that whatever it is that holds you never treat you with a riding crop. You were always so delicate and you bruised so easily. Not I. I knew I needed it when I saw it in a shop window. Slim and black and I went straight in and bought it. For days I held it in my hands at night, turning it around and imagine how it would feel. Fire and need, all over again. I don’t walk corridors aimlessly anymore, I walk straight to the doors and knock.
He was surprised the first time I came. His eyebrows snapped together, but I just walked into his room and gave him the crop. I didn’t say anything, I just leaned over his desk and waited, almost sure that he would grip my arm and throw me out again. I didn’t talk and he didn’t talk. Then he pushed me further down, a hand heavy on the small of my back and my nightgown hitched up around my waist. Cool air on bare skin and then heat and pain as the first stroke came.
It hurts, Mina, it hurts a lot. I don’t want to move, but my body reacts anyway and try to writhe away, but his hand holds me still. Part of me wants to beg him to stop, but I don’t. I have earned this. I need this. Pain in precise, steady strokes that washes over me. There is just me and him and the pain and nothing else. When you bear what I bear every day, a few moments of nothing else is bliss.
Not until it was over I realised how aroused I was. I could hear myself breathing and I could hear him breathe as hard and I wondered if he felt the same. I will never know, because he stepped away and I stood up, legs shaking. He gave me the crop back and I left. That was all that happened. That is the only thing that happens.
I’m calm after. The turmoil inside me is lulled into an almost sleep. I return to my chamber and is gifted with a night or two of undisturbed sleep. Then, slowly, slowly, everything seeps back inside my mind were it grow and ache until I can’t stand it anymore. It is then that I find myself standing outside his door again and he always lets me in. We deal with our guilt together, like two sides of a coin. I haven’t asked if he can sleep without dreams for a while as well, but I think so. Yes, I rather think so.
All my love,
Vanessa
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from Penny Dreadful, I just play with them for fun.
Fandom: Penny Dreadful
Rating: R
Category: Angst/drama
Summary: An unsent letter from Vanessa to Mina
Dear Mina,
There are things that are so important for me to say to you, but they are also the things you can never know. I want you to know that I never wanted you fiancée with the mustaches, but then I must tell you who it really, only, ever was. Him.
I remember that he always smelled cologne and clean linen and spices that belonged to sundrenched lands far away and he folded me into his arms like I belonged there as much as you did. My father smelled of old papers and iron and he never touched me, not even to spank me when I had been naughty. When we were really young I had this daydream that my father and your mother would die, from what was never really clear or even important, and then he and my mother would get married and we would all belong together. You never had that thought, I am sure, you loved both your parents.
I never told you that I saw them in the garden. I never told you of the fire that slowly started to burn that day. I think he knew I was there.
That night, the night before your wedding when I wandered through the corridors of your home, it was him I wanted to find. It had to be that night because there would be no other nights. The next day you would be married and gone to a new home and I would never sleep under his roof again. Would not see him as often again and never as close, because you would be gone. And I would only be the neighbour’s unmarried daughter. The odd one that no suitable young man seemed to be comfortable with. So I walked through the house, knowing that he would be there, that he would meet me and he would see me, really see me. See how I burned.
It was to be, I felt it so strongly, my destiny, if you want. Unavoidable. But the corridors lay empty and I walked and walked, desperation growing and the fire as well. It was all there was, desperation and fire, but I know it is no excuse. I didn’t care for your fiancée. I certainly didn’t want hím. Not really. But he was there and I saw desire in his eyes. Such as it was. It was enough right then. Not after, not ever after. After there were only regrets and searing shame.
I hope that whatever it is that holds you never treat you with a riding crop. You were always so delicate and you bruised so easily. Not I. I knew I needed it when I saw it in a shop window. Slim and black and I went straight in and bought it. For days I held it in my hands at night, turning it around and imagine how it would feel. Fire and need, all over again. I don’t walk corridors aimlessly anymore, I walk straight to the doors and knock.
He was surprised the first time I came. His eyebrows snapped together, but I just walked into his room and gave him the crop. I didn’t say anything, I just leaned over his desk and waited, almost sure that he would grip my arm and throw me out again. I didn’t talk and he didn’t talk. Then he pushed me further down, a hand heavy on the small of my back and my nightgown hitched up around my waist. Cool air on bare skin and then heat and pain as the first stroke came.
It hurts, Mina, it hurts a lot. I don’t want to move, but my body reacts anyway and try to writhe away, but his hand holds me still. Part of me wants to beg him to stop, but I don’t. I have earned this. I need this. Pain in precise, steady strokes that washes over me. There is just me and him and the pain and nothing else. When you bear what I bear every day, a few moments of nothing else is bliss.
Not until it was over I realised how aroused I was. I could hear myself breathing and I could hear him breathe as hard and I wondered if he felt the same. I will never know, because he stepped away and I stood up, legs shaking. He gave me the crop back and I left. That was all that happened. That is the only thing that happens.
I’m calm after. The turmoil inside me is lulled into an almost sleep. I return to my chamber and is gifted with a night or two of undisturbed sleep. Then, slowly, slowly, everything seeps back inside my mind were it grow and ache until I can’t stand it anymore. It is then that I find myself standing outside his door again and he always lets me in. We deal with our guilt together, like two sides of a coin. I haven’t asked if he can sleep without dreams for a while as well, but I think so. Yes, I rather think so.
All my love,
Vanessa