Who: Kane Lewis, Charlotte Evans, and Simon Evans (NPC) What: Kane's retaliation doesn't go quite as planned. Where: The Evans cottage in Bath, England When: 3 AM, December 29th, 2010 Warnings: Violence, Kane, etc.
Charlotte went to bed early that night, knowing that sleep would evade her like it always did. But, surprisingly, it didn't. For the first time since she'd left the castle (or fled, rather), she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Even in her dreams she was relieved, but the solace was temporary. His words came back to haunt her soon enough, and then his face, and then everything she did wrong, everything...
"Stop whining." A hand on her throat, a harsh voice, a scratched and bloody face very close to hers – three things woke her simultaneously. Kane's hand, Kane's voice, Kane's face. So like Tristan's. This close, the resemblance was unmistakable and, strangely, the only thing she could concentrate on. It was almost comforting, to know her attacker. It kept her from panicking, at least for the moment. She knew him. She had known him. Maybe...
"Let go of me." Her voice was calm, cold, commanding, but he didn't listen to her. Instead, he merely smiled and tightened his grip, and appropriately, she began to panic. The Kane she knew was the one who heeded her every word; this wasn't him. This was the Kane who wanted to hurt his brother, possess her sister. Charlotte was the quickest way to both of them, wasn't she? That much she could detect in his disturbingly dead eyes. He was going to kill her. She broke. "Let go!"
"Shhhh," he whispered with a wicked smile, placing a finger over her lips. No, not a finger – it was too cold for that. A knife. "No, no. Don't fight, Charlotte. We don't have time for that. Which is unfortunate. I wish I had time to give you the attention you so justly deserve, but–"
"If you think–"
He laughed as her lip began to bleed. Her own fault. She didn't even notice. "But I'll make do." Pulling her upright by her neck, he let out a sigh, as if he truly regretted what he was doing, and Charlotte had to bite her bleeding lip to keep from whimpering. She had been wrong, she had been so wrong, there was no resemblance here, he was nothing like Tristan, nothing, so why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't he see that Kane was not his brother anymore? Why did she have to die to prove that she was right? Her thoughts were so panicked and disjointed that she almost missed what he was saying to her. Whispering, really. So soft, like he was telling her a secret...
"It's a pity, you know. You and Briar. You could've been so... beautiful. So perfect. But you chose this instead. Pathetic. Just like my brother. Such a pi–"
"Imperio." Charlotte could've cried at the sound of the quiet strength in her father's voice, but she held Kane's gaze instead, watching triumphantly as his eyes glazed over and his willpower left him. "Let go of my daughter." He did. "Walk away. Leave the way you came. Don't ever come back." He left as quick as a ghost, her father's wand leveled at him the entire time. Still, he didn't get very far – Charlotte lurched forward and grabbed him, then hissed in his ear, "If you ever come near me or anyone I love again, it'll take much more than a knife to stop me. I won't wait for Briar. I will kill you. Now you can go."
Charlotte forgot to breathe until she heard the sounds of the door shutting and her father uttering more spells, repairing whatever enchantments Kane had broken to reach her. Without really thinking about it, she stood up and walked to the bathroom, calmly examining herself in the mirror. Her neck was already bruised, and she touched a tentative finger to the cut on her lip and hissed. The bleeding had stopped, but she'd probably need stitches. His knife had been sharp...
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She jumped, but it was just her father, looking grave but still attempting to smile. He came over to her and inspected her wounds with a careful paternal eye, then wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "My brave girl. I'm so sorry, darling. I thought you'd be safe here."
Charlotte closed her eyes and breathed in shakily. "It's not your fault."
"You're going back to the castle tomorrow. No arguments."
"I... alright." She glanced up at him curiously. "You used an Unforgivable, but not..."
Simon Evans looked down on his youngest daughter, and it seemed to Charlotte that he aged nearly fifty years within only a few seconds. He kissed her forehead and answered quietly, "The two of us have had enough death in our lives, don't you think? Just this once, I thought it'd be nice to politely ask it to leave. Just this once."