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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years

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Red Right Hand X

—

The wind was cold and whipped painfully at her cheeks as she strode through the wild grasses and between the stones around her. The gravel crunched underfoot as the blonde woman made her way to the small, nondescript marker in the back corner of the yard.

Her father already stood before it, hands in his threadbare pockets and a scarf wrapped to cover the lower half of his face from the blistering cold wind.

Joanna barely restrained herself from running to him, but the overwhelming desire to clutch at the other was surrendered to immediately. She pressed her face into his chest, the scent of fire wood and horsehair flooding her reminding her of home, for a long moment as they just held each other.

“What’re we doin’ ‘ere, Joey darlin’?” “This is where we gain so much more than just than just ten percent, Da.”

The young girl pulled back from her father, brown eyes meeting hazel, and gave a shake of her head and pointed to the cold, solid ground.

“In there, there’s a treasure far of more worth for us than any horse takin’s.” “How do you know?” “Because the man on the stone is in London right now, on the Shadows payroll, instead of six feet down beneath us ‘ere.”

The possiblity had never crossed her mind that she might actually be able to uncover where the stolen weapons of the Faceless Shadows could be. She had felt her ears prick months ago at the idea the dark haired man had machine guns that were due to be sent to kill and stomp down her people, but she had simply thought it an interesting tidbit rather than something she could ever uncover. Ever take for her own.

However the previous afternoon she had been working through balancing the ledgers for the middle Visyak brother, somehow able to do the math quicker than the hot tempered man and possessing nicer hand writing as well, when the opportunity had presented itself.

“Jeffrey, how am I supposed ta help if I don’t know what half these numbers mean?” “Anything you don’t know, just ask.” “Okay, well firstly what is this ten pounds a week goin’ ta London for? It’s just left blank.”

Jeffrey had approached and leaned over her shoulder, hands pointing at the blank line above her own finger with a frown.

“Hmm, where’s it going in London?” “Somewhere in Crystal Palace.” “Oh, that’s for Amon-” “Amon? …didn’t he die a few months back?” “Smoke and mirrors, sweetie, just smoke and mirrors. A pelt of sheep’s brains and a convincing fall was all it needed and now Amon’s been in the city setting up for our next expansion.”

The man had paused in his speaking, drawing a drag from his smoke and flipping the pages back so he could point out the address and where the payments began immediately after the others death.

“Pretty sure we needed to up the price too, given he’s babysitting our sister in the city too.”

Joanna shook the memory from her head of the scared boy’s face when she first met him, and of the strangely sombre but not distraught way the youngest Shadow brother had behaved after his friends death. It had been too early to understand the nuances and she had not thought to revisit the matter once she understood Jackson further.

“So what are me and the boys due to be diggin’ up, Joey?” “Twenty six military machine guns and ammunitions.”

Her father stared at her at that, eyes boring into her as if trying to determine if she was lying, joking or speaking truthfully at that.

“How'dye know that? Who told you ‘bout there being guns down in this grave?” “I got told from th’ horses mouth itself that they had acquired some rattlers a few months ago. And found out ‘bout the faked death yesterday. ”

William Harvelle ran a hand over his hair several times as he looked between her and the soil, making the young woman shift uncomfortably. Perhaps she had over estimated her father’s hatred for those starting to invade their home, or his dedication to the cause. Or perhaps he doubted her honesty or fact finding.

Ducking her head, Joanna pulled her coat closer around herself as she moved to run a hand over the top of the tombstone with a pile of different rocks resting atop it.

“This could change everythin’ Da, if we can get them out of the country and back to Ireland and the army…” “We could also be arrested in this fuckin’ land and never see your Mam again.“

The comment about their yearly visits to the small graveyard in Cork made the girl shake her head.

“This is bigger than some fear, Da. Mam would understand.” “Understand she might, but Joey, she wouldn’t want ye throwin’ your life away gettin’ involved in what I’ve been doin’.”

It had been a long standing argument between father and daughter since the girl had lost her mother and then further still after the attack on the small community they had travelled in. William Harvelle may have been known in England as one of the finest horsebreeders in the isles, however back home he had a reputation for being able to source anything and everything, from clothing and potatoes to hand grenades and rifles. It was a reputation he had been fighting to avoid gifting to his headstrong daughter too.

“Da, you can’t shelter me forever. I’ve already seen too much a this world as you know… I’m not your little girl no more.” “Darlin’ girl, you will always be my little one. Growin’ up won’t change that one bit.” “Well you should still listen ta me. This could change everythin’.”

Joanna stared up at her father pleading with him to trust her. It would be bad enough their desecrating what appeared to be a grave site by exhuming the guns - if there was a real person in there, then the light of God was likely to turn it’s back on them soon enough.

“Da, this could change everythin’…” “Okay, Joey, okay.. I’ll get the boys ‘ere and we’ll start as tomorrow.” “Could… Could you bring one of 'em for me back at me flat before you move out?” “Why would'cha need a machine gun, darlin’?” “I don’t want ta leave them high 'nd dry since we’re takin’ the rest.”

She could feel her cheeks heating up as she requested the one to be left behind. She did not understand what made her ask, but the rumours of trouble between gangs starting up and the potential thought that the few men who’d treated her nicely may be outgunned when they lose their secret cache made her want to shudder.

Looking up into the thoughtful, and then knowing, look on her father’s face, Joanna could feel the judgement rolling off of him. The judgement for letting herself get caught up in feelings or thoughts that could derail everything. The judgement she’d directed at herself ever since the church a few months ago.

“Alright, my darlin’, I’ll leave them the one gun for that one, so long as you come to me when the fightin’ starts and come on home. We can always collect it again when we come back for the last payment.”

Tucking her face into the warmth of her father’s jacket again to hide the pleased look on her face, Joanna nodded her agreement to his demands.

She did not need to remain to see the fall out between her Shadows and the others. She could not see the violence of mindless death here as well as at home, she could not face it again or her heart may just finally burst like her father’s had eight long years ago.

—

“Excuse me, sir, if ye could make your way out when you’ve finished your pint your next drinks’ll be on the ‘ouse…” “Sorry mister, but we’re closin’ early tonight…” “No more drinks tonight, Ash, you’ll have ta come back tomorrow night…”

The girl ran around the room, shooing off those who were not connected with the gathering that was forming at the small pub that evening. Michael had thought it best to gather all those who operated under the Shadows payroll together to speak the once on the coming storm. Jeffrey had the barmaid scare off those not involved as the strike of the hour approached, and followed her around handing out drinks to those who were arriving and would stay for the meeting.

As the clock struck ten that night, the final few men arrived slipping through the doors before the previous barman slid the locks in place on the doors. This meeting would not be interrupted and Michael was determined to ensure all knew the expectations of each before anyone would leave.

The tall blond made his way to the second stair towards the upper storage areas of the pub, empty glass left behind him on the bar counter to be refilled while he spoke. He waited for the room to fall quiet, the odd murmur and greeting still being made but not sufficient to distract from his words as he surveyed the group as a whole. It had taken many years, and they had lost many of their closest friends and supports in that time, for the Faceless Shadows to grow from five friends running amok on the streets of Birmingham at the turn of the century into an almost legitimate organisation. With those ranging from book keepers and enforcers, to those who simply shared information and look outs, to those that worked supporting the families of those they had lost, to those that worked in the barges, those that worked on the trains, those that worked in the police force, those that worked in the hospital, those that kept their hands clean and those that did not. Looking over the amassed number filling the bar as it was, Michael felt a small swell of pride at what he had created - and the dark gnawing of the hole deep inside him that could only be fed by creating more seemed to bite harder.

“Gents..” His voice was not particularly loud, however it managed to bounce around the room and draw the last voices to silence. Michael cleared his throat once before begining again. “Gents, this has been a long time coming and I appreciate every one of you for your unwavering support and loyalty these last years since we managed to return from that horrible business in France, in Germany, on the continent.”

He paused as a general round of cheers came to that, allowing the foot stomping and claps to die down before he continued.

“Since that time, we have built this organisation into a truly impressive being, stronger than any one individual, any one family, any one calling. We have joined together to start down this path towards history.” Michael rubbed his hands on the inside of his pockets as he spoke, the number of eyes upon him would be enough to make anyone nervous however he simply felt a numb, cold chill as he thought of the pain and suffering he was about to draw upon them all. “And some day shortly, that history will continue and grow further - first with the removal of our rivals here in Birmingham, and then the removal of our rivals through the North.”

“Fuck tha Black Eyes-” “-Bloody Catholic cunts-” “-down with the lot of ‘em-”

Various shouts interrupted his next part to the speech, a round of calls and jeers about the other factions bouncing about the room. He could see Jeffrey and his small group of enforcers throwing back shots as each person shouted an obscenity related to their rivals. He could see the tall blond police officer, the only one to appear from the force itself that night but in place to let the others in on the information afterwards, in the back corner beside the short dark haired barman sharing an impassive look between them. He could see the bright blue eyes of his boy crowding near the staircase itself, but he would not dwell long on the boy having snuck his way into the meeting just yet. He could see Jackson smoking by the door to the private back room, eyes unfocussed and simply staring rather than listening to the information that would only not surprise him.

“In the coming week, we must be prepared to do what must be done - we have heard talk that the Catholic bastards and the Black Eyes have joined forces to bring the fight to us. We knew there would be… retribution eventually from the move at Cheltenham, and especially after the death of the previous Catholic leader.” Michael let out a small sigh at that, eyes glazing over where he could see the blonde barmaid glaring back at him at that comment. There was no need for her resentment to still exist. “However, they have made a fatal flaw in their decisions, in bringing the fight to us. To our streets that we know and control. To our very doorstep.”

A round of cheers came up at that as well from those around his brother, while those who mostly operated the every day and less violent roles in the group shuffled uncomfortably. Michael knew the feeling, he had once been as uncomfortable with the violence necessary - but that was when he was still weak. Now, he and the Shadows would not show weakness in the face of danger.

“Those of you who do not need to participate, you will be told and your tasks will be to secure your houses, your neighbour’s houses, and your neighbour’s neighbours. When the trouble starts, majority of you will be operating as such - protecting yourself, yours and those beside you. This is the most we will ask of you, to ensure our city, our people, remain safe throughout.”

There was a hum of relief and appreciation that rippled across the crowd. A suggestion from his mother - to ensure that the general populace would not be impacted - in order to avoid issues afterwards with innocents being harmed seemed to resonate well.

“Those of you participating, you would know who you are and myself and the other boys will speak with you. They will come for us here, they will approach through the city and plan to circle us as a whole. We will have you in position from tonight onwards, and you will need to remain as such and prepared for any moment.” Michael sighed slightly as he thought over the number of coins it had taken to clear out the streets bordering the pub to be able to hide his men in plain sight. “Jeffrey will cover the tactical plans with each man once you are in place, but we expect to take them by surprise when they come. To fire upon them from before and behind as they attempt to dislodge us.”

Shifting his feet, Michael noticed movement from the corner of his eye and accepted the drink held out to him from the boy at his shoulder. Swirling the dark contents around the glass itself, he found himself staring back at the depths like they would give him the last words. A cough from somewhere, towards the side back of the room and a gesture from the cougher got him moving again. Holding the glass aloft, Michael raised the drink in a toast. “So men, let us drink to what our futures hold for us. To the success and glory we will meet. To-”

“To the Facelss fuckin’ Shadows.”

—

London from Crystal Palace was not like London from the Mayfair or the Savoy the few times she had ventured to the capital before. London from Crystal Palace was like living above everyone else - the highest place in the city and views that stretched on for miles. The palace itself shone brightly at the top of the road she was staying on.

Every morning she and her companion would walk along Chruch Road up to the Crystal Palace itself, around the grounds and then back to the small townhouse they were staying in. By the time they returned, the redhead girl who worked cleaning and preparing the house in the mornings would have breakfast sat on the small table in the main room of the house.

After breakfast, Shada would find herself curled up on the chaise before the front window with a book or a cross stitch, waiting for something, anything, to happen. The curly haired man would follow her into the room and sit quietly at the kitchen table. The few times she would look over at him throughout the morning, she would see the boy with his head buried in his hands or shaking to himself if a horn would blow outside or a car back fired down the road somewhere.

The afternoon would be spent in the small back courtyard when the sun was shining, the pair of them would have tea and scones or finger sandwiches. There was a small vegetable patch that the man would dig his hands in, muddy and brown by the end of the afternoon, and work the soil over ot tending the vegetables growing there. Shada would watch, relaxing back in the sunshine. If the afternoon was wet and raining, she would take a brolly and head to the main street nearby to stretch her feet alone for once. There was a small haberdashery, and a bakery with beautiful French-style pastries, that she would frequent. It gave her a brief window whereby she could pretend that she was back at home in Birmingham, princess of the underground and free as a bird.

She never made mention of the shadow that would follow her, lurking near the doorways when she entered the stores, and then setting off at ten paces behind her the whole way back home. She could pretend he was not following her like the lost puppy he was, that she was able to travel where she liked as she liked, and that her brother hadn’t commanded she be accompanied every where she went.

Nights would be a quiet affair, sitting nearby the fireplace, red wine in one hand and another book in the other. Sometimes she would talk the other into playing cards, sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table and the deck spread between them. Rumy, bridge and poker being her preferred games; though sometimes he would instruct her in a strange game which used the instructions card and Joker. Sometimes he would actually withdraw to his room and leave her to her reading and letter writing. Those nights she would work on letters to her brothers and mother, advising how her days were proceeding.

She would finally make herself ready for bed and leave to her bedroom around ten each night; however she never removed the outter dressing gown until well after two in the morning. Every night between her retreating to her room and that time of night, Shada would hear the door down the hallway creak open, feet thud heavily along the squeaky floorboards, and shuffle downstairs. It would take until almost one before the crying would begin, and once she would finish the last page of the chapter she was on, Shada would put her book away. She would pad her way downstairs, and talk the whimpering man back up to his room with half a bottle of whiskey to fall asleep with.

Sundays they would walk to the church rather than the palace, but otherwise the last two weeks had followed the same routine each day. It had become almost quaint to her the way that life had fallen into a domestic haze, whereby each day blended to the other. Before she knew it, three weeks had passed.

—

It was the boy’s seventeeth birthday. A brilliant year for some and a horrible year for others. Six years earlier and he would have been conscripted and sent to die in the muck, mud and cold of the fields of France.

When his own seventeenth had come, his mother had baked a cake so large he had not seen one to the same size since. His father had given him a pocket watch with his inital engraved elegantly on the outside. His younger brother had remained scarce - a true gift in that. His elder brother had treated him to a few rounds at the pub, Mott’s Moat, on Green Street. His friends had brought several nuibile and beautiful girls to dance and talk with them. One of the girls had let him do her in the bathroom stalls. One of the pub-goers had taken offence to something he had said and started a fist fight on the streets outside. All in all, he had had an amazing day for his own.

Jeffrey clapped his nephew on the shoulder as he brought him into the pub with a cheery wave towards the blonde behind the bar for bottles to be brought through. He thought he heard her mutter about his drinking the profit away, but thought nothing of it, the girl always complained. Ian looked around in surprise as he was guided towards the back private room, though that was not too surprising as he was rarely allowed to join his uncles in their meetings at The Fort. His grandma had only recently allowed him to join the Tuesday family meetings at home, and his father had refused him entry to the men’s meetings thus far.

“Come on kid, we’re going to get you right and sloshed before moving the party on.” Jeffrey crooned quietly, grabbing the bottle of whiskey slid through the cubby hole with a wink at the barmaid. Joanna was always so fun to flirt with, especially as she leant into the space to stare at the younger boy sitting awkwardly on one of the benches.

“What’re ye up to, Jeffrey?” “Why, sweetie, I’m taking my nephew out to celebrate his birthday.” “Oh? How old are ye, kiddo?” “Uh… seventeen ma’am.” “Barely still a kid then, aye. Not far off meself actually. Well, happy birthday and let me know if you boys need anythin’ else, Jeff.”

The girl’s friendly greeting and chat to the nervous kid made him want to smirk. It was clear she was bemused by his choice to bring the boy drinking, and the boy ws perplexed at not being ignored or spoken over the top of. Jeffrey grabbed the glasses left as well and poured the both of them a large pour of the drink.

“Well, there you have it Ian. Not much a kid any more. And part of that is what we’re going to get up to tonight.” “You know I have had whiskey before-” “Clearly. This is just to warm the both of us before we go visit some very friendly friends of mine.” “Friends?”

“Whores, Ian. We’re going to go give you a night you’re not going to forget…” Jeffrey let out a laugh as he clapped the boy on the back, downing his own drink before pouring his own and gesturing for the other to do the same with his. The boy coughed a bit as he swallowed, and then spluttered at his uncle’s words, blue eyes blown wide. “ I mean, unless we get through enough here. Then you may just end up forgetting it.”

“I’ve… I’ve had girls before, Uncle Jeff.” “Just Jeffrey now, Ian, you’re about to start joining the adults this year.” “Oh, yes, Jeffrey. I’ve… I had a girl I drove about if you know what I mean.” “Figured so, what with that pretty flop of hair on your head and your being a fucking Visyak. But tonight isn’t just about what’s between a ladies legs, boy, it’s about so so much more.” “Uh…”

The boy gulped down another three drinks in the next half hour as Jeffrey continued to pour them. Soon enough the bottle was empty and the elder found himself lurching to his feet with a laugh. “Come on, lets go get your dick wet.”

The flush on the boy’s face as they left at that made him laugh even more as Jeffrey guided the pair of them along the wet cobble streets. There was the scent of spices and chili in the air, the sound of squealing animals and the horrible chatter of the Chinese town laundry workers as they made their way towards the personal favourite whores of Jeffrey’s. The ladies were more beautiful than the other working girls around the city, and they poured top shelf spirits if you slipped them an extra coin or two.

Making their way down the back alley way towards the red lighted door, the old man in place as always out the front, Jeffrey could hear the young dark haired boy gulp as he adjusted his shirt and jacket. When the boy went to smooth down his hair, Jeffrey let out another laugh as he finished his cigarette. “Ian, boy, they don’t care what you look like. All that matters is what is in your pockets, and tonight? Your pockets are going to make them drool.”

“Sure thing Un- uh, Jeffrey.” “Thats right kid. And we’ll get you Cynthia if she’s free.. even if she’s not, we’ll get you Cynthia. Maybe June too. You like blondes or brunettes?” “Uh.. blondes?” “Good answer!”

Stubbing out his cigarette, Jeffrey reached into his pockt to withdraw the two coins for the entrance fee for the old man right before the door slammed open and into his side.

“Oi! You fucker!” “Oh, sorry si- huh, it’s you.”

The trio of men exiting drew up short, voice of the one apologising pulling up short as the lot got a good look at one another. Sargeant Sam Winchester, the giant dark haired man of the Birmingham police brigade, had pulled back from apologising as he held the door open for his companions to move through. His brother, Chief Inspector Dean Winchester, and their cousin, Constable Christian Campbell, exited through the door and drew to their full heights as they stood almost toe to toe with the dark haired Shadow and his confused looking nephew.

“Did you boys enjoy our last meeting?” “You mean watching your beaten ass get dragged through the pecinct? Yes, yes we did.” “Doesn’t seem very fitting of your office to admit it though.” “None of us have our badges on at the moment.”

Jeffrey found himself staring off against all three officers as Ian drew a step back at the approaching men. Three against one was not always the best odds, however as he ran an eye over the rumpled clothes and roughly smoothed hair, he figured he may just have more energy than the lot of them put together. Hand sliding into his pocket that held his razor blade, he watched carefully as the biggest threat of the three, the older Winchester, reached his own hand into a pocket for a weapon on too.

“Heard you boys all been having some extra padding to your pockets lately.” He found himself stating quietly but filled with humor as he flicked his eyes between the three and the door behind them. “Given where we’re meeting, I guess my sources are right. Enjoying working for that cocksucking angel-obsessed mess, Winchester? The poofy Scotsman, Campbell?” Jeffrey grinned wickedly as he spoke, shifting his feet backwards less to give ground and more to free space for himself. “Not sure what you’re doing though, little giant - which cock are you taking?”

All three men growled, the skinny Campbell one letting out a round of obscenities as the trio each removed knives and switch blades from their pockets. Jeffrey matched in kind with his own straight razor before a noise behind him caught all four men’s attention.

Ian was only two steps behind his uncle, staring between the four older men with a look somewhere between uncertainty and arrogance. His stance was not completely awful, nor was the positioning of his fists - not quite by his sides as if he was unprepared, but not quite forceful enough to instigate an attack.

“You gentlemen mind if I talk to my nephew before this begins - it is his birthday after all.” “Yeah, send the kid on his way, Shadow.”

“That’s for him to decide,” Jeffrey quipped back, turning to his nephew again. He ran an eye over the boy again before withdrawing a knife from in his boot. Twisting the blade over, he held the handle out to the younger boy. Ian’s eyes flickered between it, his uncle, the three out of uniform officers and the old man reclining on the bench beside him. “Ian, you’ve got three choices right now - you can be a boy, and run back home. You can be a man, pay the old geezer and go see Cynthia. Or, you can be a Shadow. Your choice.”

The boy’s eyes widened even further and Jeffrey abstractly wondered if he was part fish from the way his mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment. It was only a moment though, before the boy reached out for the handle with a firm nod of his head.

“I’m a fuckin’ Shadow, aren’t I?”

—

The only consistency she had been able to rely upon in the last month was the Tuesday Family Meeting. The three brother’s and her grandson all sat around the small table, talking shit and complaining about various aspects of the business as any other Tuesday would do. Eleanor was not buying the peaceful setting the group was attempting to deliver thought.

She had heard about Michael’s inspirational speech at The Fort after their last Tuesday meeting. Eleanor had been glad to hear from one of the ladies down the road who had heard it from her daughter who had heard it from her beau who worked on the barges for her boys’ that Michael had followed her instructions to position the safety of the city citizens as a high priority.

Then in the early hours of Friday morning she had been woken up by the sound of Jeffrey and Ian crashing their way into the kitchen - bruised and bleeding on her lace doilies. They each still wore the marks of their escapades on the boy’s birthday, Jeffrey with a split lip, broken fingers and a gash across his eyebrow to jaw line, and Ian with two black eyes, a broken nose and having almost lost a tooth. She had heard there was an altercation with some off-duty officers from Robert, and barely restrained from choking her son for dragging the younger one into his fighting ways.

She had not heard Jackson being up to anything particularly concerning that week - however that barely meant anything, as her youngest was particularly skilled at hiding his trail and keeping things quiet. She had not heard of his spectacular find until he told her himself. That she had heard nothing did not settle her nerves.

“Well, if we are done here?” “Yes, about time we started work and got the doors open.”

The group moved about through the post-meeting routines, putting away dishes and leftovers into the pantry for use later in the week. If Shada had been there, she would have made up sandwiches for the lunch break then and there, but nobody wanted to step into the role. To admit they were missing one of their own.

As Jackson moved to the doors that separated the family quarters from business, there was a loud clink noise that froze all three of her sons. Turning around, Eleanor approached where her youngest had not moved the doors any further, staring at the floor in horror.

“What’s going on, Jacky?” “Ma, get Ian and get out of here now.” “What?” “Everyone get out now!”

The shouted instructions got all three sons to move immediately, the eldest grabbing his own boy’s shoulders as they sprinted towards the front door to the street. Eleanor looked in confusion as Jackson grabbed her arm and pulled her along himself as she stared at the silver metal pin on the floor. “Is… Is that-”

Her words were cut off as the family poured from the building, only to be chased by the licking flames as the building was engulfed in a loud bang and fire. The explosion sounded dreadful in her ears, noise ringing as she flung herself to the street beside the others. Hands over the back of her head, she tried to breathe, tried to be calm, tried to ignore the licking warmth that spread from where her door was.

Eleanor can’t find her way to the feet until Michael had his hands under her arms and was lifting her from the ground. Her legs seemed to shake and not want to work as her son wrapped her up in his arms. She could see the flames and smoke billowing out the open doorway and beginning to creep out of the upper windows all along the four joined and knocked together rowhouses that made up their home and head quarters.

“What..what happened?” Her voice quivered as she finally managed to support her own weight, hands digging harshly into Michael’s shirt as she stared at their home going up in flames and smoke. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“There was a grenade on the door handles, when Jackson opened the doors it pulled the pin, Ma. Someone broke into the work room while we were having out meeting.” “Must have been the Black Eyes - that is their type of move, to blow up women and children.”

The venom that came from Jeffrey’s voice as he joined his brother to explain would have made any weaker woman’s blood run cold, but instead, it fueld the flames boiling through Eleanor to match those destroying the home she had raised her children and grandchild in. The heat of her anger surging through her as she pulled out of the grip of her sons. Both men looked as furious as she did. Turning, Eleanor could see Jackson brushing the ash and soot off of Ian’s back and hair with a frown of his own.

As she brushed her own skirts off, Eleanor could hear the sound of voices calling and their neighbours pouring out of their own houses with buckets of water and hoses alike. The city and those that lived there pouring out to help their Shadows.

Even as buckets doused the flames, it could do nothing to the flames of war and vengence burning deep within the older woman. As she took up a bucket from the elderly lady next door, Eleanor threw the water over the burning wood of her front door thinking to herself that war had finally found its way to her doorstep.

—

Tuesday nights were usually relatively quiet, not being at the end of the work week for most to want to drown their sorrows or celebrate a week well completed, not being at the start of the week whereby drinking away the pain of work starting again. Tuesday nights were when she would usually play a round of cards against those two boxing organisers between pouring pints and shots, or she would go through the lines of the ledger reconciling the weekends book balance before Jeffrey could do it wrong.

She had been playing cards against Garth Fitzgerald IV and Ash Miles when the family of five had poured in - eyes fierce and fury clear on their faces. Joanna had moved to get to her feet before Jeffrey gave her a shake of the head and a wave of his hand to return to what she had been doing.

Looking at the two curious looks around the table with her, all three shared a shrug and continued their game of poker - small match sticks on the table for chips after the girl had accused them of trying to get free drinks five weeks previous. As they continued their game, Joanna found her eyes drawing to the closed private room more frequently than to the cards in her hand or on the table.

“Now, Beth, this isn’t fun.” “No fun at all.” “A distracted player just makes for bad sportsmanship after all-” “-which we would hate for you to accuse us of, sweetheart.”

Joanna rolled her eyes at the pair, glaring slightly at the blond taller one at the endearment. She had found both men to be exceptionally entertaining and relaxing to spend time with, though never when she was not on the clock. Nor would she get through a conversation without needing to shut down the flirty tone or comments from Ash at some point.

“Sorry then boys, I feel like I won’t be much fun to play against tonight-” “No I suppose not-” “-definitely not, what with the rumour of the morning-” “What rumour?” “Why, you didn’t hear it from us-” “-no, not from us. But there was a fire-” “-an explosion really, a bombing even if you like that word-” “-over at the Shadows headquarters. Whole place went up in smoke-” “-heard it was either the Catholics or Black Eyes, part of that whole… war they’re starting.”

“What…” The blonde’s eyes widened as the two talked back and forth, her eyes darting between them as they spoke before they'd even switched control of their sentences. Joanna's brow furrowed as she flicked her gaze yet again over to the private room as the door opened and the older woman of the group departed with some old, bushy bearded man with a hat still on inside. She caught a glimpse of the three brothers still remaining in the room as the door closed behind between them again.

"Huh, look at that. Looks like Michael finally gave his blessing." "About bloody time. That copper has been waiting six years now, almost seven by my count."

Joanna rolled her eyes at the back and forth as she pointed back at the table, "Get your heads back in the game while I get mine, would ye?"

The trio continued their game, matches moving around the table with ease and jokes and stories of the recent history of Birmingham flowing from both men as they drank more and more.

It was another hour before the eldest and youngest Visyak both emerged and left the private room, father and son with the same cold set face as they exited the pub. Joanna lost that hand.

As it neared midnight, her fellow players finally stood up.

Garth gave her a wave as he headed to the door to the room himself, knocking and then smiling as the taller Shadow emerged with a grin.

"We've set up a match tonight, special circumstances for that asshole and a few of the, uh, gents he had a disagreement with to have a proper rematch." Ash remarked as he helped her clear off the table, even going so far as to help carry their empty glasses over to the bar. Joanna had thought she'd have made a friend in the leery man had they met under different circumstances. The taller blond bumped her chin with a fist gently as he drew her attention back from staring after her boss and Garth's leaving backs. "You going to be alright here alone tonight? Think you've got an almost empty house."

She followed the trail of his eyes over her shoulder to where the only remaining patron was turning to go back into the Shadows room.

"I'll be fine, thanks." "Don't say I didn't ask. He's got no where else to go so I'd imagine you're going to have a hard time getting home tonight, sweetheart."

Laughing the other off, Joanna sent him on his way as she rounded the bar to start stashing away elements for the night. No other patrons had entered the building, and as she withdrew the cash drawer, she locked the front entrance before moving to the back office and store room. It took her another half an hour before she had the cash stored away, the ledgers filled out for the night, and the back of the bar restocked and prepared for tomorrows opening. Jeffrey never bother to stay on top of things, but having watched Harry’s process originally, the blonde did not deviate from what was not broken.

As she finished up the last of her preparations, Joanna gave a sigh before finally approaching the closed door to the small private room the only other occupant was hidden behind. She knocked gently, and then just pushed her way inside at no response.

The sight that met her made her laugh. The dark haired man was laying across the top of three smaller tables pushed together. His suit jacket was off and bunched under his head as if to mimic a pillow, while the long grey jacket he almost always wore when he first entered the building was thrown over him like a blanket. His eyes were closed, and if it were not for the small twitch of his lips at her laughter, she would have believed him asleep.

Approaching the table, the blonde bent over the other, hovering closely to his face for a moment before she poked him in the cheek with a finger.

“Wha-” “Sorry, Jackson, bars closed. You’re goin’ ta have to pack up and go home.” “Can’t, Beth, got blown up.” “Hmm that’s unfortunate. Well, regardless you can’t stay ‘ere.” “You realise I own this place, right?” “Mayhaps, but you still can’t do that.” “Beth, you get going home. I’ll be fine here.”

Jackson finally sat up right as they talked, one hand rubbing over his mussled hair while he fought back a scowl at her continued teasing. She knew it was not the right time or the right way to be teasing him, but she could not help herself watching him struggle to hold back a growl.

“I don’t think so, Jackson.” Joanna said, leaning against the table next to him as she tilted her head as if thinking over his words and options. As he moved to stand, she found herself resting a hand over his with a small smile, her voice dropping quieter in the empty, silent pub. “I guess you’ll just have ta come home with me.”

There was a pause as they stared one another down, brown in blue, before the other matched her smile.

In moments they were out the door, locks in place behind them, and making their way along the dark stone streets of the city in companionable silence. Joanna could not hear if he spoke to her, the thrill bubbling in her making the thud of her heart beat flood through her ears. His hand kept brushing hers as they walked, occassionally she would reach out and tug him one way or the other towards the small rented flat she had taken all those months ago. Her lease was intended for two years, however she knew that after this week, she would be gone and the room back to vaccant again.

She held her finger to her lips as they entered the front foyer of the house block she was in, before leading the other up the stairs and into the two roomed flat. Her bathroom was small and functional - more than she was used to living out of the caravan with her parents her whole life before, and something she was truly going to miss - while the rest of the flat was made up of the one room. Small kitchenette with a stove and cold drawer, a tiny island of cupboards to make a work surface butted up against the end of her bed along one wall, while the small fire place and one large, comfortable yet worn chair sat beside it and her small closet. Other than that, she had nothing to make the space feel more homely, no pictures or artwork, no book shelves or vases of flowers. Nothing to draw the eye, to interest the mind, or to pack and take with her when she left aside from her clothes.

No one else had set foot in the flat since she had moved in. Her landlady did not visit, she had no friends to visit, and her father was on the move half the time she had been in the city once he felt comfortable that she was alright. Joanna was used to living only with the necessities and light for travel, however as she watched the dark haired Shadow look around her empty flat, she suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed. Like he could see how empty her life was by the emptiness of her flat.

“Can I fix you somethin’? Tea, somethin’ stronger?” “What are you having?” “I’ll be puttin’ the kettle on for a tea.” “Tea it is then. Would not want to give anyone the wrong idea.”

Joanna felt her cheeks flame as they talked, watching the other’s eyes flash to the one bed in the space and then back to her again. As he caught her eye, she found herself flushing more at the way the blues seemed to be swallowed by the black of his pupils in the low light. Flustered, the traveller turned to put together a pot of water on the small oven cooktop before moving to stoke the fire into life. Anything to keep her hands busy and her eyes off of his.

The man appeared to look around her room once more before gesturing at the lone arm chair in the room. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, be my guest.” “Your guest, yes. And where did you mean for your guest to sleep in your... quaint lodgings, Beth?” “Perhaps I did not intend for you to sleep.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, eyes widening slightly at the slight look of shock and then shifting into a look hotter than the fire she was prodding. Joanna felt the blush creep back on her face as she stood again, the other jumping to his feet in response out of good manners or out of something else, she could not be sure.

“Maybe we should have something else, while waiting for the water to boil.” “Maybe we should.”

Joanna looked up at the other, suddenly closer in the small room than she had felt they should be but whether it was her moving to him or him moving to her she could not say. They were magnetic, opposites drawing into one another and unable to stay away. And then her hands were on him, fingers in hair and lips on lips, drawing him in, drinking him in, drowing in him.

The moment was fleeting, but followed by more as he held her tightly in return, arms around her waist or her jaw. As she pressed into him and drew him into her, feet shuffling in a twisted dance through the room until the back of her legs found the edge of the bed. Until they were laying against eachother, exploring one another through fabric, and then through skin as layers slid from them both.

Pulling back to breathe, Joanna heard the other sigh against her neck, lips trailing kisses along the white expanse. The name she was wearing like a mask, the name that burned for her to hear like this. She jerked back a bit, hands grasping his face with care as she stared into the liquid fire looking back at her.

“Not Beth...” “What?” “Joanna. My first name’s Joanna.” “...Joanna?” “I’m in hidin’ remember.”

She thought for a moment that it would stop there. That revealling she had hidden her name from him would break the spell hathat was holding them in this space, in this time, in this feeling. That he would pull away like he should have months ago.

Instead, the Shadow whispered her name to himself, thumb stroking across her cheekbone as he looked into her eyes. Whispered her name three times, as if tasting it for the first time; before he nodded and leant back in for her mouth. The next moment he was at her neck again, her name rolling from his lips against her skin making her flush.

The tea was forgotten from that point on. Hands ran across planes of skin untouched and unloved on both for some time, wiping away the pain or isolation that coated each of them as they explored eachother.

His fingers had glanced over the scarring on her stomach - the one eternal remnant of what drove her to where she was now before the attack. The burns left behind from the fire that had stolen her mother from her eight years earlier. The fire whereby the two travellers had been caught in the middle of a gun fight between the rebel forces and Englands soliders, bullets tearing through Joanna’s shoulder and her mother’s stomach and lungs, before they had hidden themselves in a building. A building that was eventually set alight without their knowledge and the burning rafter that had fallen across the both of them painfully, before the mother pushed her daughter from beneath it to escape. The rafter that had continued to smoulder and smoke, drawing away the mother’s breath as the twelve year old had struggled to drag the dying woman free. His touch smoothed away the marks for her, replacing it with soft skin and warmth she could not really feel any more.

Her hands had circled the stab wound in his side, the bullet hole in his arm and the tight knots of muscle in his neck from the weight of the world above him.

Wiping away those pains and memories alike, they shed those pasts together as if anew, before they joined together. Joanna found herself gasping and close to crying as they moved as one, hands grasping his hair and back as she fought to forge the memory in her mind. Where the other was able to let go and open themselves to the moment, she found herself regretting the moment immediately. Not for the act itself, but for the finality of it. This would not happen again, this would never be repeated once he knew the truth of what she had done.

And as they clung to eachother after, kisses and gasps together, she could feel the battered and scarred cracks on her heart tear open again, unseen and unknown, as she lay her head against his chest for the rest of the night.

---

#AU stories #peakyverse fic

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saltxiron · 6 years

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The Ironborn are rapists in canon. What are Asha's opinions on consent. Does it bother her, does she take no issue with it, has she ever engaged in it? Also we see in the show that Yara/Asha makes port and her entire crew is in a whore house. Do you think they actually paid the people there or did they pay the iron price or were the people so scared they were just like "yo this one is on us."

Hey! Thanks for this question @wxldchxld! It’s a great one and I feel like it is not really explored too much. TW: RAPE, TW: RAPE MENTION, TW: VICTIM BLAMING, TW: VICTIM SHAMING

TLDR: Asha is anti rape with some problematic elements

Asha at her core is actually very anti-rape I believe, though she does have some internalized misogynistic views about consent because of her culture and because of the family dynamic in which she was raised. This is manifested differently in the book vs. the show. When I roleplay, I take from both the show and the books so I’ll talk a little bit about her outlook in both.

From what we are told in the books about Asha as a child- she says she played with dolls AND axes and that her mother “raised her to be bold,” I think she was a child similar to Arya- but luckily born into a family that allowed her to be who she was. However, they only allowed this because it is only traditionally masculine traits that are valued in the Ironborn culture. The Ironborn culture is incredibly misogynistic, but not in the way the Greenlanders are. Women are allowed to break the gender mold as long as they are behaving as men would. As Theon says in ACOK, “There were women on the Iron Islands—not many, but a few—who crewed the longships along with their men, and it was said that salt and sea changed them, gave them a man’s appetites.” Such women are still considered beneath men, but they are considered better than other women it seems. So, in a way, the Ironborn culture is better than Westeros when it comes to gender nonconformity- but it is a very narrow definition of gender nonconformity. The Ironborn seem to be okay with gender nonconformity ONLY when the nonconformity is a woman exhibiting what they consider to be masculine traits. If a man exhibits feminine traits, the Ironborn shun them. This is shown by the way they treat Theon as less even before his abuse and mutilation. So because of her culture, Asha would have learned to accentuate her “masculine” traits and downplay her “feminine” ones in order to be successful.

IN THE BOOKS, Asha is a child of war who witnesses her two elder brothers killed and her younger brother essentially kidnapped. The defeat was a crushing blow for both of her parents- Balon and Alannys. Alannys had a breakdown after losing her sons and Balon raised Asha as his heir. So suddenly her father was encouraging her to be like a son to him as her mother’s sanity slowly deteriorated because of the loss of her sons. What Asha learned from that is that the only way she could gain love from her parents was through becoming a son to them. I also think that witnessing the deterioration of her mother made her terrified of being put into a traditionally feminine role. Her mother was this strong, Ironborn woman who raised her to be bold- but the grief at losing her children broke her. I think Asha internalized that as “traditional roles for women such as motherhood will break your spirit and that loving people too much will make you weak.” I think that she then carries those ideas over to her view of rape.

I think that Asha has internalized the Ironborn view of rape in that she feels that if you are raped, it means you are weak or allowed yourself to be vulnerable. An internalized victim blaming view. So she uses her privilege as Balon’s daughter to make herself as strong and untouchable as she can. She turns down marriage, she captains her own ship. Instead of being a victim of rape, she leads the rapers herself. It’s kind of fucked up in a way. But even with all of this, she is seen to understand that she herself- a great Ironborn warrior- was lucky not to be raped by Stannis’ men in A Dance with Dragons.

And at the same time, she is constantly expressing concern for other woman in spite of her internalized victim blaming. There are a number of instances where she brings up the feelings of other women to the misogynistic men around her as if they should be given equal consideration to theirs. When Theon says he won’t visit Alannys until there is peace, she counters that his visit would bring Alannys peace. And then during her negotiation with Victarion she calls him out on the “honor killing” of his wife after Euron raped her. As Victarion is going on about how he had to murder her for honor and how grieved he is over it, Asha responds saying, “I am sorry for you. And more sorry for her.”

Through Asha’s POV chapters we get the feeling that even though she is is completely accepted as Ironborn and exemplifies their best aspects, she is nonetheless very different from the typical Ironborn. Her relationship with Alys the She-Bear shows this well. Whereas the other Ironborn characters take pride in their raiding and raping, Asha seems to realize how much damage that has actually caused when Alys tells her, “every child on Bear Island learns to fear krakens rising from the sea.” Then there is also the fact that she is the only one at the Queensmoot Kingsmoot that is offering peace instead of more war and who wants to make alliances with the Northmen in order to acquire the land they need. So even though she is not standing up to the rape culture of her people directly, Asha plays the long game and her plans would cut down on raping and pillaging considerably.

As for whether or not she has actually engaged in rape herself, I would say definitely not in the book. However, she does allow it to happen when leading raids. I think that can be assumed since there is no mention of her preventing or punishing her men for rape, the way Theon did at Winterfell. So while she doesn’t condone it, she allows it to happen in order to keep her men loyal to her and as a war strategy. Which is problematic as fuck but also somewhat understandable in her situation.

IN THE SHOW, Asha seems to have internalized her culture even more. Or it may only seem that way because we don’t have her POV chapters to know her inner thoughts and her role in the series is seen mostly through the POV of Theon. But this could also be because their mother is mentioned only once, and is otherwise completely absent from the show. Asha also does not come into contact with Alys Mormont in the show or her Uncle who advised her that “It’s LAND we need not crowns.” Those key elements are missing and so Asha comes off as much more Ironborn in every way. Yet at the same time, she defies her father to attempt to rescue Theon who has been tortured, mutilated, and raped. She also quickly agrees with Daenerys that there will be no more raping or reaving, after like a second of hesitation. (Personally, I think she should have secured some land from Daenerys in exchange for joining forces with her but that’s just me lol- then again, I am also baffled that the show didn’t include Asha’s call for peace, trade, and alliance with the North in the Kingsmoot scene because to me that was the most revealing thing in the book about both the Greyjoy siblings- Even though Asha had a good relationship with Balon as opposed to Theon, both of them went against their own ideas to please him. Once he died, she could act on her ideas for strategy to make the Ironborn stronger- which actually went really well with Theon’s own original alliance with Robb Stark.)

All that being said, in the show, Asha may have engaged in rape. I say may because I’m not sure if that was D&D’s intention. But in the show the woman Asha is with in the brothel in Braavos has a tattooed tear on her face along with all the other women which may mean that she is actually a slave to that brothel- something that this article explored. Personally, though, I don’t think D&D meant it to be rape- they are really clumsy when it comes to this kind of thing- remember when they made a consensual act between Cersei and Jaimie look exactly like a rape haha. Ughhhh. But I could be totally wrong. I prefer to look at it as they are at a regular brothel where the women are not sex slaves but I also choose to ignore the show canon of Asha’s speech for the Kingsmoot because it was so opposite to the progressive, strategic character in the book- none of this is on Gemma though- she was amazing in both scenes.

As to your question about them playing the Iron price I think that it was either they paid for them like regular clients or the brothels themselves did say “This is on us,” because of their reputation. I think the Ironborn do actually pay for a lot more things than they say they do as long as they are not actively pillaging or reaving. I think to some of the Ironborn, the Old Way of paying the Iron Price for everything is absolutely true- like with Balon and Euron. But I think that Asha’s generation (like Tris, Qarl etc) have a lot more nuance and are more open to things changing.

#wxldchxld #tw rape #tw rape mention #tw mutilation #tw victim blaming #tw victim shaming #long post #this took years off of my life to write haha #but thank you for the question!#I just hope I was able to articulate it well #META║▌ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᴵˢ ᴰᴱᴬᴰ ᴹᴬᵞ ᴺᴱᵛᴱᴿ ᴰᴵᴱ⚔️#HEADCANON║▌ᴺᴼ ᶠᴵᴳᴴᵀ ᴵˢ ᴴᴼᴾᴱᴸᴱˢˢ ᵀᴵᴸ ᴵᵀ ᴴᴬˢ ᴮᴱᴱᴺ ᶠᴼᵁᴳᴴᵀ⚔️#ASHA 🗡️ᴵᴿᴼᴺ ᵛᴱᴵᴺᴱᴰ

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