Chapter Text
For the majority of her life, Annabel Lee longed for the brief moments she could find herself completely alone.
Having spent her late childhood and early teenage years overwhelmed with private tutoring for the most varied subjects, from exact sciences to the guidelines of being a perfect housewife, only to enter an endless journey to find a gentleman who would give the latter skills a thoughtful consideration while the former would cause nothing more than a short laugh, Annabel had grown fond of any given time she could keep herself from hearing the conceited voices.
Alone, Annabel could ponder her own thoughts, be they pleasant or not. Today, they had certainly taken a discouraging route. It was a rather cold september night, much similar to how she felt inside her heart. Tonight was to be her last social season event before it became too hard to have people of the high society accepting their invitations, which only meant her father was desperate enough to throw his precious daughter in the arms of masculine figures who seemed not so appealing. Not that Annabel found any masculine figure appealing, but her waterfall of options had become as thin as the drip of a sink. Now, anyone with all five senses intact and a considerable amount of wealth was a good option, little did their actions or beliefs matter at this point.
Her father’s impatience was also the reason a gathering as such was being held past the traditional months of the year.
‘You cannot possibly expect us to wait for another half a year to resume our search. It is simply not an option, Annabel. Your childhood has passed, enough games of chess have been played, costing us perfect candidates when you were of appropriate age. I shall prepare a winter gala if I must, but you will wear a white dress by spring.’
She has always been lonely in the deepest of senses, but ever since arriving in New England her ways of diverting from the feeling have been non-existent. Before, she had friends to talk to over tea, familiar locations she was welcome to escape to, enough power to safely find people as herself and more than the necessary money to restrain whoever might do so much as think about creating a scene about it.
It all vanished. Now, in this place, she had neither the knowledge nor the time of day to gather it, as her father grew stricter about what she was allowed to do, where and most importantly, with whom.
She had become nothing more than a bird in a cage. A beautiful, desirable, elegant bird, but nonetheless banned from living as it would make its heart happy. She couldn’t help but reflect about what her image must entail for those who watch from afar. A perfect girl. The most adequate future woman. An acceptable wife, as long as she remains inside the cage for little more time than several years after her death. That shall suffice all the expectations.
A boring, stupid, useless life.
For some reason, the thought made her mind wander to an old memory. Something she has long ago discovered.
Months ago, their family had in fact received a proposition of help by people of high importance, upon the purpose of their arrival being made public, in exchange for help with a situation related to a woman in their household. However, her father decided it was best to not form alliances at the time, uttering it would be clever to not play favorites before knowing more about the families. Annabel thought it irrelevant, what would have actually mattered was to meander as soon as possible, be the people honest or not. In fact, Annabel much preferred if they lied as much as herself.
As it was later revealed in one of the first events they attended, a lady who used to be close to the family explained they had been in ruins since the death of their oldest son, and were now in desperate need of a company to their… problematic daughter, who was bound to a wheelchair and a twisted mind. It was not an information that had reached her father’s ears, as it took Annabel the longest of time to happen upon someone who knew the family closely from before their social disappearance and even longer to watch her drink enough wine to speak, hence her decision to keep it to herself, as usual. Knowledge was everything.
Annabel thought it was a shame, she could have made good use of the distraction and the information it might have provided, no matter if it was a fool’s errant, it seemed entertaining to make acquaintance with a woman in such a situation. As famous as the family was, it seemed as if their will to maintain the woman away, heaven knows where, worked in their favor, as people seemed to either not know about her or pretend they didn’t.
The forgotten ones always appreciate company, and usually reward their listeners with a great amount of talking, which was just what Annabel had needed at the time.
Annabel was not quite certain why the information passed through her mind as she was dragged along the ball room, numbly being introduced to several gentlemen. Their list of acceptance had been so low in importance in comparison to their usual circle, not even her father was feeling sympathy towards the men who were not wed.
There were widowers with age to replace her grandfather, businessmen with rumor to be in hopeless debts, lying through their teeth in hopes to exploit Annabel’s wealth, and to Annabel, the worst, which was the one who had almost fitted her father’s requirements, only to finish his discourse with a disapproving remark about boats and how this sort of vehicle is not trustworthy.
The irony of her father being acceptive of rude and shortsighted men but refusing to be future relatives with a person who showed a slight dislike towards boats was not lost on Annabel. It made her want to cry, instead, she gave her father a fake laugh of agreement and sighed in relief.
It had been hours since the beginning of the party. Her mask was on the verge of slipping. Her smiles wouldn’t reach her eyes, a fact unnoticeable by most but her father. It was incredible how keen he had grown on noticing minor details through her expressions.
Sometimes, all it took was looking at the floor for slightly longer for him to reprimand her for being unpolite. Or, on his worst days, accuse her of much more terrible things than a common inattentiveness.
A shiver passed through Annabel’s spine. She no longer could fathom if staying within this house was truly a less degrading situation than dealing with a stranger’s unknown quirks. There had been a time when he and Annabel were a team. He would be amused by the fact no man on this earth would have intelligence enough to defy his own daughter, unfortunately, it had been long ago, too long, right after...
She needed to go out of the room, immediately. She could normally face this by playing her own mind games, but she did not have an opening for that anymore. The insincerity inside the walls was suffocating, even for her. She darted her eyes around the salon in search of an excuse good enough to make her father trust her to be alone.
That is when Annabel saw someone.
The world went as still as a statue, no sound could be heard despite the room being full of people. The presence caused such an impact Annabel’s mouth opened slightly. How could someone achieve to have eyes as bright as the seas at midday, but maintain an intensity as deep as if it were nighttime?
There was not a hair on Annabel’s arms, legs and neck who didn’t react to the stranger she spotted. Not only that, but her breath almost got caught up inside her throat.
Who is this?
The question repeatedly hammered Annabel’s head while her mind scanned the list of names on the paper her father had given her during the week. ‘Study your target, make it a game if you please, if that shall finally keep your mind on what is of urgency.’
Then it came over her as if lighting had struck her heart.
Vandernacht.
But it wasn’t solely from the confirmation of presence list that the name held a space in Annabel’s mind. It was from another paper, months old, thrown away with merely a quick read. But it could not be. It could simply not be. The family had not once been present at their parties, despite being invited. Annabel’s guess was they didn’t have interest in her beyond the aid they wished to gain. It had never been of any alarm to her, as they did not have a son anymore, so her social season could not mean less after having their letter unanswered. They didn’t have a son. Only a daughter.
A daughter who was said to be incapable of leaving a wheelchair. Nonetheless, there she was, standing and walking as Jesus supposedly did after the third day of death. Truth be told, she had the support of a cane, but her image was so full of health it cost Annabel to believe people considered her as dead as her brother.
‘Is this really her? Am I being foolish? It could be anyone else from the family.’
If it was indeed her, she was most certainly not dead, in fact, her incredibly lively blue eyes were staring directly at Annabel’s rose gaze. Having catched Annabel’s rather long inspection, the figure gave the most unholy smirk followed by a wink Annabel had ever been a victim of. It was a first occurrence, but the blond could feel her blood creeping over her face. Heat was not something she was used to feeling, but under the unyielding stare of an ocean, not only did her body warm up, but another new reaction took place – Annabel lost a staring contest. Her eyes could not bear to maintain the connection with such an intense glare. And so, her own eyes fell, breaking what felt like minutes - except it should not have been more than seconds - of interaction.
But to no salvation, as all it did was make Annabel’s stare change focus and land upon the garments of the dead-girl-walking with more attention. She was wearing an overcoat and bowtie, both red, a traditional closed white shirt and-
Sit-ups. The figure was dressed in red sit-ups and black social boots.
The stranger might as well take her to the altar this instant, because not a soul would question if it was a man. The only reason Annabel was not fooled was the knowledge about the family’s reality. No one else could’ve recognized them, as the list was further away from merited families. Her head felt light, and she dared dart her eyes back up to take in something other than Annabel’s brand-new definition of the color of the sky.
Taking in all the features, she noticed the hair was short and there seemed to be no pattern to the cut. The black hair had specific locks which were completely white, to Annabel’s shock. It made curiosity build inside her, since she knew the person on the other side of the room must not be much older than herself, only a few years at most.
The presence of her felt as if contradiction itself had taken human form.
The blond wanted to ask all the questions the english language allowed to be created, then, she would use all the languages she was tutored in, learn all the other ones left in the world, and might invent one herself if the day came when the dark-haired would not have a new question to respond.
If it was who Annabel believed, how did she manage to leave behind her madness title, how on earth could she wear clothes as a man in public, what was it about her that gave Annabel a new sense of purpose for this night, and, probably most importantly, why the devil was she walking in Annabel’s direction.