mikhail nikolaev ❄️ bucky barnes (wintersldr) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-08-13 23:21:00 |
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Though Lucy still had plenty of moments wherein she questioned everything she thought she knew about parenting, the times that she was able to carefully lay a sleeping Yuri down for bed without accidentally jostling him awake made her feel like she was an expert. If it weren't for the fact that doing a triumphant dance would almost certainly be counterproductive, she may have done just that where she stood in the dark of his nursery. Instead, she just leaned over and clicked on the nightlight and monitor, just in case he did wake up, brushed her fingers along his soft wisps of blonde hair, then backed out of the room as silent as she could manage. Yuri taken care of, she turned and walked down the hallway to the bedroom she shared with Mikhail, her every intention to change into pajamas to relax in until they retired to bed themselves. Instead, she had barely taken a step over the threshold and she found herself transported to France. Lucy could remember every terrible detail of what it had been to watch and feel Diane's life be drained away from her, all at Catherine's hands. She could hear Diane's gasps for breath, feel the struggle as she tried to fight the queen away. Barely a night went by that she wasn't revisited by some reminder of the horror, if not the memory itself. She had been trying desperately to forget it, to ignore and survive in denial as she focused on work, her fiancé, their family, and their friends. When she dove wholeheartedly into what it was to be Lucy Lyon, she could almost forget about how she moonlighted as Catherine de' Medici, even if sleep had become harder and more difficult to find. This memory was something new. Sebastian had figured out so much, just as he always did. It had become more difficult for Catherine to hide her deeds, both past and present, when those around her were becoming more wise to her ways. Perhaps this was overdue. Perhaps this was deserved. But as she felt his anger rolling off of him, then his fingers at her throat as he tried to do the very thing Catherine had indeed done to his mother, she couldn't help but beg. Maybe it was simply her own desire to live, but maybe there was also a shred of concern for the bastard child of her husband's that she'd never truly been able to fully accept into the fold of her children. Whatever the case, she still gasped out, "Bash -- think! I am -- the Regent -- of France!" Because, were he to kill her, it wouldn't matter what the boy claimed she'd done or how deserving the end had been. It would be his end, too. It wasn't until Catherine questioned whether his mother was even worth his own death that Bash let her go, only to further brandish his sword. As she struggled for breath, knowing that there had to have been bruises forming under the high collar of her gown, she felt true fear. He could end her life with the sword much easier than his bare hands, but instead he simply threw the weapon at her feet. "Since you are the real King of France, consider this my resignation as your deputy." Heart pounding, Catherine watched as Bash walked out of her quarters, closing her eyes for a moment to center herself, but opening them to find herself back in Lucy's tastefully decorated bedroom. For a moment, Lucy simply stared ahead, her heart rapid in her chest as she breathed deeply. It wasn't until her eyes focused and she realized that she was staring at her reflection in the full length mirror next to her closet that she was startled into the present. Taking a few tentative steps forward, she cringed as she straightened her neck. There, in the very place Bash's fingers had pressed to Catherine's pulse, were bruises. They wouldn't last. Those sorts of things never seemed to, at least they normally didn't. But that didn't keep her heart from aching, it didn't keep the emotions from rising in her chest and escaping in a soft gasp that could have just as easily been a sob. It was in that very moment that Lucy realized she couldn't do this -- not alone, not anymore. She had been carrying around every atrocious thing that Catherine did, refusing to talk about any of it with Annie, unless it was Annie herself that prompted the conversation. She didn't even talk to Mikhail about it outside of generalities, terrified that he might see her in a different light if he knew whose life she seemed to share. But as she stared at her reflection, all she felt was weariness. She was a strong woman, but maybe she needed to be just a little bit stronger and find someone to carry these burdens with her. With that thought in mind, she left the bedroom, not bothering to change into her pajamas as previously planned, and quietly descended the stairs. Once she was in the entrance to the living room, she hesitated just a second as she looked at Mikhail, sitting on the couch where she'd left him. It was just long enough for the thread that was holding her together to finally snap and the tears started. "I'm sorry," she managed, hand covering her face as though she could hide the sudden expression of emotion. And then, before she really knew what she was doing, Lucy hurried forward, giving no real warning as she slid into Mikhail's lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as her face pressed to his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she repeated, months of repressed emotions making it hard for her to do anything else. As soon as Mikhail heard Lucy come back into the living room, he’d looked up at her with a teasing grin on his face to make some comment about her quick change, but the smile quickly fell and was replaced with heartbreaking worry as he took in the tears in her eyes. And then she was in his arms and he wasted no time wrapping her in them, still careful about the strength behind his hold. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” he said quietly, gliding one hand over her back as the other came up to brush her hair back off her face, his thumb wiping at the tears that splashed down over her cheek. That was when his eyes found the bruises on her neck and his blood ran cold. “Baby, what happened?” Trying desperately to calm herself, Lucy clung to some of the very real reminders that kept her rooted in this life. Mikhail's aftershave, the familiar sound of his voice, the comfort and security that she felt only in his arms. Though her eyes closed as his fingers pulled back her hair and she knew he saw the aftermath of Bash's attempt on Catherine's life, she forced herself to take slower breaths, willed her heart to stop beating so damn hard. She was only moderately successful but, by the time she opened her eyes again, she could do it without falling into another bout of hysterics. "It was a dream. Nightmare, really," she murmured, her voice a bit raw. Lucy wasn't sure if it was from the crying or her mind convincing herself that the damage Bash had done was real. "Her step-son tried to kill her, but not -- not for anything she didn't deserve." Lucy's gaze dropped, unable to meet Mikhail's eye in that moment. She lifted one of her hands, gingerly touching her neck. "He didn't actually do it, but..." She shook her head, letting the words fade out. Mikhail reached up and wrapped his fingers around hers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t know the exact details of her dreams, but he thought that maybe the two of them were cut from the same cloth for more reasons that one. He recognized the guilt in the way her eyes wouldn’t meet his, the shame in the slump of her shoulders, and he knew how heavy both of those emotions were because Bucky had carried them, too. Was still carrying them. He ached for her, this strong, intelligent, beautiful woman who he was sure would never deserve these dreams or whatever consequences lay in them. “Whether she deserved it, or not,” Mikhail said, now pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “you don’t.” And then, hesitating because he didn’t know if she needed him to press the issue, or just hold her while she cried, he said, “Talk me through it, Luc. You don’t have to suffer her memories alone.” For as right as Lucy knew Mikhail was, it was hard for her logical mind to penetrate the wave that her emotions were riding. She tried desperately to remember that she wasn't Catherine and that the other woman's actions against the people that Lucy loved weren't her actions, but the line so often felt blurred. It was too easy to recognize the similarities between herself and the queen, their drive, passion, and fierce love for their family. The similarities were so striking that it made Lucy wonder what it said about her if Catherine could also do so many cruel things, too. "She killed his mother," Lucy murmured, head tipping forward to rest on Mikhail's shoulder. It was twofold; she got the comfort of being closer to him, while also making it impossible for her to actually look at him. Her eyes closed again as she continued. "His mother -- Diane, her name was -- was Catherine's husband's mistress. They had the one son together, but he kept making princes and princesses with Catherine, too. Diane killed their twins when they were just infants, because she was so jealous of Catherine and Henry." She paused, drawing in a deep breath before she went on. "For years, Catherine thought that one of her daughters had done it and it caused this terrible rift between them. She tried to kill her daughter for it, even. She didn't, but when she found out what Diane did, she -- she killed her instead." Lucy curled in closer to Mikhail, opening her eyes to let silent tears fall down her cheeks. "I remember all of it, Mikhail. I keep -- dreaming about it, for weeks now." Something gripped his heart when Mikhail realized that Lucy had been shouldering these dreams alone for so long. He couldn’t say anything considering he was much the same when it came to trying to hold in all of the bad things he remembered, but he still wished he’d somehow known that he needed to be there for her. Still, he wasn’t entirely sure he could blame Catherine for what she’d done to this other woman. “I don’t know if this makes you feel better, or not, but I wouldn’t think twice about taking out anyone who hurt Yuri,” he said. “We both remember doing terrible things, Luc, but I’m not sure I could add what she did to the woman who killed her babies to her list of sins.” Still, regardless of whether it was justified, or under exceptional circumstances, or any other variation of excuse, Mikhail knew how the memory of taking someone’s life haunted a person. He couldn’t take that away from his fiancee, no matter how much he wished he could. “What can I do for you, Luc? Anything you need, I’ll do it,” he said, pressing another soft kiss to her temple. Everything Mikhail said rang true to Lucy. The sometimes overwhelming love and protectiveness that she felt for Yuri was something she knew she had in common with Catherine. Were someone to have harmed her son in any way, she would have gone to the ends of the Earth to hunt them down. It wasn't the drive behind killing Diane that was haunting her, but the actions itself. Lucy had never wanted to know what it felt like to hold someone's life in her hands and now she did. They may have been Catherine's hands, but how different was that, really? Lucy released a slow breath as she began to loosen her grip around Mikhail and backed up just enough to actually meet his gaze. It was still tentative at first, but something more than all out avoidance. "I don't know. Listening to me helps," she admitted, lifting her hand to press curious fingers to the raw skin at her neck, testing the bruises to see if they had faded yet. She winced -- no, they had not. Thinking of them again, Lucy hesitated, battling an internal war with herself. With a deep inhale, she said slowly, "Someone in town is dreaming about her stepson. What if they find out, Mikhail? Catherine has done so much to him already. What if this is one terrible thing too many for them to forgive?" Mikhail ran his hand over her hair and tried to consider how best to answer her questions. It was a difficult situation to be in, knowing that you were responsible for someone’s greatest pain in another life and feeling the guilt and weight of it despite knowing that you weren’t the one who did it. “I can’t speak to how they’ll feel if or when they find out, but I do know that all you can do is respect however they feel,” he said quietly, brow knitting. These weren’t the words he wanted to say to her, but they were honest and he would never lie to her, no matter how hard the truth could be. “I was, am, very fortunate that Eli doesn’t hate me for what Bucky did to Tony’s parents but maybe he would have been justified in feeling it if he had. But one thing I do know for absolute certain, Luc, is that you have at least one person who will be here with you through it, whatever happens. And if this person really knows you, I really think they’ll realize that you’re worth being forgiven for whatever she’s done.” Though a very real part of Lucy was skeptical over whether or not Bash would be able to forgive her should he ever reach this point in whatever timeline their dreams seemed to be walking, she did her best to dismiss it and instead focus on what hope Mikhail was able to give her. For as real as all of this felt to each and every one of them, she was able to separate Annie and Bash from Mary and, well, Bash. Their actions against Catherine hardly seemed to compare to everything that woman put them through, but they were her friends here, in Dunhaven, long before French court entered their lives. Lucy drew in a long breath, raising both of her hands to frame Mikhail's face. Her right thumb ran over his cheekbone. "I love you," she said, voice quiet. "And I'm pretty bloody lucky that you're the person who will be with me through all this." Mikhail pressed a kiss to the tip of Lucy’s nose. “We’re partners through whatever life throws at us, Luc,” he said, letting his forehead rest against hers. “I don’t need to wait until our wedding day to swear that to you,” he said. “Whatever happens with the person you’re sharing dreams with, you will never do it alone. I will never abandon you in any of the ways Henry did. I’ll protect you and our family always.” Mikhail's words settled in Lucy's heart, softening the cracks that weeks and months and even years of these dreams had created. Ever since she had allowed herself to accept her feelings, there had never been a doubt in her mind that Mikhail was her forever. He was nothing like the man that Catherine had been legally bound to. He was loving and kind to her. He was a warm and affectionate father with their son. She trusted him, completely and utterly. She never had to wonder if his actions held ulterior motives or when the other shoe would drop. They both had their pasts, but their present and future together was not one she would ever question; if she would have, she wouldn't have accepted the ring that sat on her left hand right then. Lucy moved, circling her arms loosely around Mikhail's neck before she kissed him, soft and gentle. "I'd never doubt it, love," she murmured, forehead pressed to his once more. "Not for one second." |