Your child goes missing. Not long after, a Russian doll awaits you on your doorstep. Within the doll is a farewell letter.
1874, Harry and Louis have a son named Othello. They lose him soon after.
Book III of the Steampunk Trilogy.
Set in Victorian...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Art above: Louis and Harry in the art style of Tim Burton.
This is a phone lockscreen, if you'd like it just send me a message and I'll send it to you (for free obvs).
Also sorry for the slow update, Wattpad has been having problems lately and I didn't want my book to get deleted (again)
With love, Lucy X
***
The Brothel where Louis had grown up, tucked away in the middle of a no man's land, built on the wasteland of dead plants and dried mud like a colossal prison, stood far too firmly, far too proudly, and there was no doubt that once you were to enter a place like this, you'd leave with turbulent memories lodged in the back of your mind. Hanji jumped down from the carriage, his feet causing a cloud of dried soil to burst around him, and he looked at the building that awaited in the distance. Even from afar, the Brothel held its power. It loomed over Hanji, reduced him to nothing, and there was nothing to make him doubt that this building reminded him of his parents. He had not, in a long time, felt so insignificant as when he stared at that building. Alongside it, as he had stood alongside his brothers and sisters, he was nothing. He was but a mere speck of dust to be brushed aside and forgotten, or the first drop of rain that would be frowned upon. That was what he had been before he'd found Louis. Before Louis, he'd been unimportant, forgotten, and an outcast.
Niall's hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Hanji turned his eyes up to him, seeing a faded smile ghosting across the Irishman's face. There was heartbreak there, the feeling of something similar to the ostracism in Hanji's heart, and Hanji saw it, but was unsure of what it meant. She did not quite understand that the Engineer saw himself in that building. For him, at the very least, that building in the wasteland called out for forgiveness through the smoke that poured from the chimney. It cried and wailed and begged to be noticed in a world where everything else had vanished. And although reeds were not growing around it, and there was no blanket nor note attached to the crooked fence that protected it, Niall could see a baby there, buried and forgotten by the edge of the waters, crying and wailing and begging to be noticed in a world where everything had vanished. This was déjà-vu. This was something that both Niall and Hanji had seen before, and had Louis not come into their lives through some strange and amazing turn of events, then they'd have still been as alone as the Brothel was.
The little Steampunk from the Underground had been portrayed as a joke, as an air-headed brat who'd flounce around in a corset, laugh and chatter and flirt with anyone that crossed his path. He had been made out as a thief by many, as a saviour to some, or as whore with a body that he knew too well how to use. The Rogue from the Underground had been named many things, labelled by people who did not know him as much as they thought, but to those who'd stop and listen to his heart, those who had the chance to discover this young boy's wonders, those were the people who would say, 'Alois Frei is a King. A King too foolish and wise to understand defeat.'
