Early Spring, 1890 — Applegate House, Cotswolds

Ezra didn't really know whether or not dinner had gone well. He'd devoted too much attention to Rosalie to spare much for the rest of his family, and if dinner was going to be turbulent it wouldn't have been Rosie's fault. And to his family's credit, none of them had expressed any of their hesitations to him (he didn't think; sometimes it was hard, in his family, to know what people had really been saying if it different from what one heard), but he could tell there was reticence there. He didn't mind it, either; from an outside perspective, it was perfectly logical not to be too optimistic about the idea of him marrying, much less marrying for love. They wouldn't believe it until he'd gone and proven all of their doubts wrong, and he didn't mind. He was very ready to prove them all wrong.

He was ready to be married for dozens of reasons, really. He had a handful of them squirreled away in his room upstairs right now: gifts that he'd been picking out and custom-ordering for months, with the monogram of her married initials. Etiquette dictated he couldn't give them to her yet — only perishable gifts during an engagement, so as not to tempt fate — but he was brimming with excitement to show her everything he'd gotten for her and see what she thought. His favorite piece of the lot was a locket with a swirling R intertwined with an E and set with a pale opal. He'd glanced at her neck a few times during dinner when she was looking away, imagining how it would look when she wore it. Soon.

As soon as the dinner dishes were cleared away he made an excuse to draw her away from the rest of the group — an excuse that probably everyone at the table could see straight through, but which no one seemed inclined to protest with their wedding date looming so close. He took her hand and led her to the study, where ostensibly they were going to review a letter from the florist he'd received that day.

"I don't actually have a letter from the florist," he admitted when they'd drawn far enough into the room that he was no longer concerned about being overheard — the door was left ajar, for the sake of propriety, but he was not particularly worried about being interrupted so long as they weren't gone too long. "But I do have a pressing question. It's been on my mind since the second you showed up," he paused — ostensibly for dramatic effect, though he may have been too eager to add much drama to it before pressing on. "Can I kiss you?"

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Rosalie Hunniford

  

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Dinner had gone perfectly, or at least that was Rosie's impression of it. Ezra's siblings were a bit odd at times maybe, but such was the nature of the Applegate family. Their eccentricity had simply become just another factor that she'd come to love over the course of the past year. She even had one of his sister's paintings (purchased of course) displayed in her bedroom at home, such was the devotion she had to her future husband's family.

Rosie had caught onto the plan seconds before stepping into the study alone. All arrangements with the florist had been settled two weeks ago, and, barring some natural disaster, there was no true reason why the florist ought to have written now. Still, she went along easily, an excited grin on her face at the prospect of being alone with him for even a minute or two. After all, her mother wouldn't give them an endless amount of time alone. Rosie intended to use every second to the best of her ability.

"I know. All matters with the florist were settled. You'll have to cite some other issue next time - the honeymoon maybe." Rosie teased in a near whisper, her hand still warm in his own. They'd had a handful of moments like these since his proposal a few months ago (far too few for her liking, the wedding couldn't come soon enough) and Rosie was already taking a half step forward during his dramatic pause. "You may."

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stunning set by Lady <3

He did, tender and lingering. He dropped her hand so that he could use both of his to cup her face, and took care not to disturb her hair or any of her clothes as he leaned in to her. He didn't know that anyone cared what excuse he used, the florist or the honeymoon or something patently ridiculous, because everyone knew he'd just wanted a moment alone with her, but it was probably still not to intrude on their families' sensibilities too much by returning her disheveled.

"Soon I won't need any excuses at all," he pointed out with a wry smile — though he did make note of what she'd said about honeymoons, in case the opportunity arose again and he needed a convenient excuse. So many things locked behind the gate of soon. The gifts he had stashed away in his bedroom: soon. Kissing her without having to care whether he undid her hair: soon. Having as much time alone with her as he wanted: soon never, actually, because unless they were going to let him bring Rosalie into the Department of Mysteries with him and sit her down on a stool next to his for the entire workday, he didn't think he'd ever really have his fill of time with her. But they'd have enough time, enough for what mattered — and enough to keep his head clear. Even during their engagement, when they only saw each other during scheduled visits and she had to leave in a few scant hours, Ezra hardly ever saw shadows any more.

"You don't know how much you meant to me," he said, leaning in to kiss her again.

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She never felt as cherished as she did in Ezra's loving embrace. Her family was loving, of course, but never like this. They'd never possessed the ability to make her feel as though she was the singlemost focus of their affections. Her fiance was so kind and charming and loving, and these last few weeks before the wedding were sure to be the longest of her life.

Despite longing for more (more friction, more warmth on her skin, more) Rosie kept her touch light on his waist. She didn't fist his jacket or grab his lapels, she couldn't. Not when the wrinkles would be noted within seconds by her mother. (Rosie had made that mistake the third time Ezra had ever kissed her and the lecture she'd received that night still made her hears ring.)

"I do, Ezra, because you mean just as much to me." Rosie promised, pulling away from the kiss so he might see the sincerity in her expression. "I love you."

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stunning set by Lady <3

"I couldn't possibly," Ezra responded, unthinking. He had said it because he was sure it was true — it was quite impossible to believe that he meant as much to Rosalie as she did to him, given the circumstances — but after the words hit the air he worried that he risked sounding condescending. It wasn't that he doubted her sincerity, of course, or that he was worried she didn't love him — he was quite sure she did. It was just that he hadn't been hyperbolic when he'd said a second ago that she didn't know how much she meant to him, because there was no way she could possibly have known. And he couldn't tell her, not straight out, but now he worried that if he didn't offer her some explanation she was going to find his response to her I love you rather odd.

He moved to take her hands in his, hesitant for a moment as he considered. What explanation could he offer her? Even if he could come right out and say the truth he didn't know that he would have; at best it would have worried her, at worst it would make him sound crazy. But maybe he could talk his way around-and-out of the slight blunder here, without ever saying it directly. Maybe (he thought wryly) if he sounded sufficiently metaphorical about it all, he'd even get some points for being romantic.

"Something I ought to tell you," he began, after deciding to take the plunge. "My life before you was... different. Difficult. You changed everything for me, Rosalie, and you couldn't possibly know because I've never been able to tell you." He paused, trying to gauge her reaction.

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I couldn't possibly.

Rosie pulled back from his embrace instantly, her brows furrowed in confusion at his response to what she thought was a shared sentiment. It wasn't even the first time she'd said as much. Ezra had known she loved him since just before he proposed, for Rosalie simply couldn't contain what she felt for him a moment longer. And, in the months since his proposal, he'd said it just as often to her. For him to say something other than 'I love you too' was so intensely out of character that she nearly pulled away from his touch completely.

Nearly.

But then, he continued speaking and her confusion only mounted. "Something I ought to tell you," he began, leaving what felt like years between this and his next statement for Rosie to begin thinking the worse. Only, it was the worst, because suddenly Ezra was speaking of confessions and absolutely everything other than how he loved her too. "I haven't known how to tell you, Rosalie. I wanted to, you couldn't possibly know how much I have wanted to tell you." He said.

Her hands became clammy in his as she struggled to comprehend what was happening. "What - what are you saying?"

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   Ezra Applegate

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stunning set by Lady <3

Ezra noted the shift in her expression, but he couldn't blame her for being wary when he'd just told her there was something he'd never felt able to speak to her about before. Even if he was telling her she had changed everything for the better, it still had to be jarring to hear there were something he considered a secret even from her. Of course she would be nervous about whatever he said next.

"It's hard to explain," he said, drawing his lower lip under his teeth for a second. "But it's nothing like that, nothing to worry about. Not anymore. It's — before I met you I had all these —" This wasn't going to work; not metaphorical enough to have any hope of being understood. "It's like — I think I was dying up until the day I met you," he said in a rush. "Not all the time, not every day, but it was always there always in the back of my mind, even when — when —" He broke off, looking briefly frustrated. Speaking around it was harder than anticipated. "What I'm trying to say is you saved me. I'm on solid ground because of you. I've got a future because of you. And that's not why I love you but it's why I said you can't know what you mean to me, because I — without you there is no me."

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   Rosalie Hunniford

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Rosie felt too exposed under his intense gaze. What felt loving and warm only minutes ago was quickly becoming something entirely unknown to her. Ezra's entire body language had shifted too. Rosie's mouth dipped into a frown - when had he ever bit his lip like that? How had he changed so drastically in what felt like seconds?

And then - then he began speaking and it was as though Rosie was having a nightmare she couldn't wake from.

"It's hard to explain. But it isn't anything we can't work past, nothing we couldn't survive. My family - I had an older brother, did you know that?" Rosie didn't, she hadn't ever thought to suspect there's to be another sibling beyond those she'd met. "He died because he was cursed. We - my family is cursed." Horror now replaced any look of confusion, her ears began to ring. "It takes the firstborn son, the curse. Not all of the children, not any daughters. But a son, always the firstborn son."

Sometime during his explanation, Rosie's hands fell limply to her sides. A son - her son would die and Ezra, knowing her history - knowing how horrific it was to watch her parents grieve - was ... what? Beseeching her to be okay with experiencing a similar loss? Her hears roared, drowning out anything else he said as she was transported back to the cemetery. Back to watching her only brother's coffin descend into the ground.

Her hands tremble even when the slap echoes throughout the study. "How - how could you?" Rosie shouted. The ring was off her finger now - the same ring she'd worn with such pride and adoration- and hurled at his head. "How could you?!" She cried again. Ezra knew - he knew - what losing her brother had done to her, and still he pursued her knowing this. Knowing she'd have to suffer through the same tragic loss as her parents.

Rosie felt as though the very air had been sucked from the room, her chest constricted with screams she couldn't unleash, until finally she sobbed, "I have to go."

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stunning set by Lady <3

The words were all out of his mouth before he realized she wasn't hearing them. Even before she reacted, that much was obvious. The trepidation on her features a moment ago made sense, but the look of horror now didn't. Fuck, he thought desperately, wondering what he'd said that had been a touch too far. But he didn't actually know how to talk around the curse, didn't know where the limitations were and how to work past them, because he hadn't needed to talk to anyone about it in years. He had his game, he was managing, and the rest of his family was managing, too. Why bother trying to figure out precisely what could and couldn't be said?

He opened his mouth to try and backpedal, and that was when she slapped him. His shock was so complete it took a second to recover enough to even look at her again. Finding the right words under these circumstances was impossible. Fuck, what had she heard? Not nonsense, that was certain. She wouldn't have had a reaction this extreme if the curse had only jumbled what he'd been meaning to say. He wouldn't have expected her to have a reaction this extreme to anything, so he really didn't know how to process this.

This isn't really happening, he thought, with sudden certainty. He didn't really know that people didn't hear him when he talked about the curse; he only knew based on the evidence at hand that he'd never been able to communicate with anyone about it. Maybe his words came across just fine — maybe it was his perception that was off. That made sense — more sense than Rosie, his darling Rosie, raising her voice or hitting him or scrambling to get the ring off her finger. The curse was doing this, somehow. It wanted him to panic. It wanted him to do something he'd regret. It was showing him what it thought would drive him to do something regrettable, and somewhere on the other side of this fog Rosie was probably watching him with empathetic, concerned eyes, still holding his hand.

Ezra took a breath — slightly shuddery, for all that he tried to keep it steady. Rosalie was there, on the other side of it. This wasn't real.

"I love you," he said, shutting his eyes against the image of her turning towards the door. "I love you so much. I couldn't do this without you."

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   Rosalie Hunniford

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She didn't stop to consider what those sitting in the parlor would make of the sudden shouting. Nor did she intend to even retrieve her mother before leaving. They all undoubtedly heard her through the open door, they all knew by now that something had gone horribly and terribly wrong.

It was his plea that forced her to stop running. It was his promise of love - the same one she had hoped to hear only a few minutes ago - that had her pausing in the doorway. This was her Ezra - her prince, her dream husband. This was the man she had envisioned such a beautiful future with. But only if she could stomach the too heavy weight of her mourning dress. Only if she could continue to stand with the burden of a tiny coffin on her shoulders.

Rosie turned back to look at him once - just once. She knew in that glimpse that she would sacrifice everything for him if he only asked one more time. She would soldier through loss and somehow manage to carry on as though she was alright with this all if it meant she had him on her side. Rosie would do anything for him- anything.

She opened her mouth to demand another explanation, for details of this curse that plagued him, only for her mother to have suddenly appeared in the doorway. And, just like that, the single flame of hope that they could somehow reconcile this was extinguished. Just like that, the sobbing girl was escorted to the carriage in her mother's caring embrace.

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stunning set by Lady <3

He had his eyes closed as he spoke, and when he didn't hear her respond for a beat he wondered if this had somehow disrupted whatever the curse was doing — was the real Rosalie watching him quietly? Or was she saying something that he still couldn't hear, because the curse was blocking things out? Silence was preferable to hearing her yell at him, he decided. Silence was preferable to noise. But then the silence was disrupted by the noise of someone else, and he couldn't help but open his eyes in surprise — just in time to see her mother in the doorway, before the two of them bustled away. The look in her eyes in that moment would stay with him long after she left.

That's not real, he told himself as he stood in the now-empty room. He had to keep reminding himself of it, because it felt real, watching her leave — real and heart-wrenching. But that was by design; that was the curse trying to drive him away from someone who would want to listen, to empathize, to help him. Rosalie was here. He had to get through to the other side of this, and then he'd see her again. The shouting, her departure, the sight of her ring on the floor at his feet — none of that was real.

I wish I could feel her hand in mine, he thought. He was still convinced it was there, despite the evidence of his senses, but it was hard to feel it.

"I love you," he said quietly, to the empty air where he supposed Rosalie probably still was. "I know I already said that, and I know you probably want to know about — everything else. You want to hear about the curse and what it means, but — but it's hard to talk about, and none of that really matters anymore. The thing that matters, the only thing that matters, is that I love you, and you saved me. It's all behind me now," he said, trying to inject a note of certainty in his voice that was hard to sincerely feel when he still couldn't feel her hand in his, and when he was still picturing the expression on her imagined-face when her mother had rushed her out the door. "It's all behind us now."

He waited. The silence did not surprise him, but as it stretched on it did worry him. How long after having aggravated the curse did he need to wait until his senses would reset? This felt — abnormally long. It had always been limited to a comment or two before.

Eventually he reached out to where he had hoped she was, pawing uselessly at the empty air once, twice. He looked towards the door and nearly cried out in shock as a shadow flitted across the threshold just beyond it. He hadn't seen shadows that close since —

Ezra looked down at the ground, where the ring still glinted in the same place it had fallen on the carpet. Too consistent for a hallucination, he thought, the tone of the observation somehow clinically detached and mournful at once. I should have known. If I'd imagined it the ring would have moved when I looked down again.

He knelt and picked the ring up gingerly, as though he were worried it would break if he handled it too roughly. But it was solid between his fingertips. He could hear people talking in the dining room — he didn't know how long they had been talking, and their voices were too low to pick out any specific phrases, but he knew at once they were talking about him. There was something in the tone, hushed in a way that normal after-dinner chatter wasn't. They were talking about how his fiancee had just left him. They had all seen it happen. He reached up to touch his cheek where she'd slapped him, and his skin stung to the touch.

I can't do this without you, he thought wildly, fiercely, miserably.

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   Rosalie Hunniford

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