One year later
Thomas leaned casually against the dark mahogany doorframe, nodding a quiet farewell to the last of the party's revelers. Outside, the snow was falling softly over the cold, dark valleys of Wiltshire.
With a muted thud, he shut out the night, strolling down the long, panelled hallway toward the parlor. The house was peaceful now, a contended hush that echoed with the memory of joy and laughter. He crouched down slowly to stir the fire before settling down leisurely on the forest-green settee.
His hand reached up to his suit pocket.
Fawn's heart spiked softly as the gentle weight of his fingers brushed against the fabric, pinning her slightly against the warmth of his chest and filling her ears with the familiar thrum of his heart. Though exhausted from the night's commotion, she shifted to meet his touch, pressing her hand against the outline of his. Not a moment later, his long and powerful fingers dipped into the darkness, carefully gathering her up into his grasp.
Fawn sucked in a breath as his face came into view.
The sight still hadn't ceased to amaze her. It wasn't just the vastness of those thundercloud eyes, or the miracle of colour and light that danced in their endless depths. It was the warmth of their tenderness when they gazed upon her, as if nothing in the dazzling, candlelit room was as beautiful or as precious as herself.
"You're awake," he rumbled fondly. "Are you alright?"
She nodded her head, her heart swelling at his gentle concern. It had been her idea to hide in his pocket during the Christmas festivities. She wanted to be as close as possible to the excitement.
In fact, she had insisted on taking part in every Christmas tradition this year, her endless enthusiasm more than making up for lost time. She had nearly given Thomas a heart attack the first time she clambered up the branches of the Christmas tree, his hands grasping her to himself as she tried to tie ribbons to the outer boughs.
There had also been Christmas caroling, the sampling of endless sweets, and an unfortunate run-in with a wooden nutcracker. She had even tried her first glass of eggnog and rum, the warm spike of sweetness loosening her limbs until she stumbled into Thomas' plate of mashed potatoes. Much to his amusement.
But to finally be part of the master's Christmas revel...it was a dream come true.
"I was a bit scared at first..." she admitted, her tiny fingers trailing absentmindedly across his palm. "I've never seen so many of you together from so close. And your voices...stars above, you thunder like gods," she laughed incredulously. "But I trust you, Thomas. I knew I would be safe with you."
Thomas's chest clenched, his fingers aching to graze softly over her skin. So fragile and yet so fearless. His own little butterfly.
"You're always safe with me," he murmured.
Leaning over slowly, he set her carefully onto the floor where she would be free to stretch her limbs. Fawn peered up after him as the warmth of his hand retreated, her eyes glazed with unbridled affection.
He smiled softly. "Here," he motioned, pinching a small, present between his thumb and forefinger. "I forgot this one. Would you mind putting it beneath the tree?"
Fawn grasped the small, wrapped package to her chest, eagerly accepting the task. She knew he was humouring her, but something about the act still stirred her heart. Though he'd insisted countless times through her tears that he wanted nothing from her but her company, a small part of Fawn still felt the need to be useful to him...to justify his kindness to her.
"Do you think Walker suspects something yet?" she called out behind her as she strayed across the hardwood floor.
Thomas laughed deeply. "I suspect he suspects I've gone mad...what with the enormous dollhouse and all the tiny, handmade clothing." He paused. "But if so, he hasn't said a word. He's a good man, Walker. I suppose he's just happy to see me in good spirits again."
Fawn giggled to herself, coming to a stop before the towering Christmas tree. Stacks of presents were strewn beneath, tempting her infuriatingly with their mysterious brown paper and twine. She turned over the gift she held in her hands, shaking it slightly to her ear.
"Remember Fawn, no peeking," his voice echoed across the room.
Fawn glanced backward, startled by his uncanny knowing. He was busying himself with writing a Christmas card, his eyes fixed on his work.
She bit her lip, curiosity consuming her. Her borrowing instincts had dulled over the last few months; she no longer needed to remain hidden or scavenge for scraps of food. But she was still a borrower at heart...it wasn't in her nature to delay gratification. Trailing her hand over the wrapping, she began to peel it back with practiced silence.
Just one glimpse...
"Fawn!" he thundered. "What did I just say? No presents until Christmas day!"
She jolted sharply at his command, hiding the half-opened present behind her as she whipped around to face him.
One thing she had learned over the past year: despite his colossal size, he was unnervingly good at catching her off guard. It was truly a wonder she had managed to avoid his capture for as long as she did.
"I didn't touch anything" she blinked back at him innocently.
He placed his pen down upon the table with a heavy clink. "Is that so," he mused, his all-encompassing gaze sweeping over her. "Then where is the present I just gave you? Or did it simply vanish into thin air."
Fawn's stomach clenched, nerves fluttering in a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. He was so naturally frightening when he was serious...yet she couldn't help the rising fit of giggling that threatened to burst from her chest.
"Thomas you must be going mad" she rejoined tremulously. "Presents don't just disappear. Next thing we know, you'll be saying it was taken by tiny people living in the walls."
His breath gusted out into a halting laugh, as if in utter disbelief at her gall.
"You better be careful, Fawn. That is some very big talk for such a little thing."
Fawn's stomach swooped wildly at his threat. She couldn't help herself, the prolonged silence of the pocket and the pleasure of having him back to herself was loosening her tongue.
"Or perhaps there wasn't a present at all, Thomas. Perhaps you're just forgetting things in your old age."
Thomas' brow arched sharply, his mouth pulling up into a dangerous smile.
"Come to think of it," his spoke slowly, "I believe I did forget something. One of the ornaments for the tree." His tongue pressed into his cheek as he mulled her over, eyes all but devouring her.
She took a step backward, her pulse quickening.
"Thomas...why are you looking at me like that."
He ignored her fear, his mouth twitching with withheld amusement. "Yes, I'm quite sure of it now," he hummed. "You know the one. It's a tiny thing. Long, dark hair. Like an angel, but without wings. It's always turning up in places it isn't meant to be."
Fawn's stomach pitched as she took another stumbling step backward. "Thomas don't you dare..."
His face broke into a positively devilish smile.
"Ah." he rumbled menacingly. "There it is."
Fawn squeaked as he leapt up from the sofa with an ungodly thunder, his colossal body descending over her as if the sky itself was falling. She tumbled onto her behind as she tried to run, managing to scramble a few feet back before his powerful hand cupped around her: a living wall, teasing her for her pitiful attempt to flee. He chuckled quietly as he corralled her in, making sure she understood the full helplessness of her position before he plucked her up leisurely.
Fawn sucked in a sharp breath, her heart soaring into her throat with a flutter of excitement and fear.
"Let me go," she gasped, struggling weakly against his powerful fingers. "You...you...great big beast!"
His stormy eyes darkened, a glint of playfulness streaking through them.
"Beast? Now, now little one...that's no way to speak to the master of the house," he tsked. "Especially not when you're so...helpless."
Fawn's heart stuttered madly at his words, the world tumbling away below her as he stood up to his full height. Holding her up before his face, he tilted her this way and that under his lazy contemplation. A delicious warmth unfurled in her stomach.
"Such a pretty little trinket," he purred, his thumb grazing possessively over her cheek, then down her body. A positively electric thrill leapt up her spine.
"Now," he uttered, pretending to scan the tree. "Where should I put you..."
Fawn's breathless pleas were ignored, the master paying her no heed as he strolled up to the tree. Lifting her even higher, his hand strayed over several spots as he teased her mercilessly.
"Perhaps I'll put you right here in the center," he muttered to himself, "where I can admire you."
"No, please," she stammered, her doe-like eyes beseeching him.
"No?" he drawled. "Hmm...perhaps you're right. I think I know a better use for you."
Fawn's heart catapulted as he lifted her to his face, his proud lips drawing toward her so slowly that her body ached. Her eyes fluttered shut, a slight gasp escaping her as his lips pressed flush against her, then over her trembling body. Every nerve in Fawn's core sparked wildly, the warmth in her chest igniting into a roaring blaze. Her chestnut hair billowed out around her as he pulled softly away, his stormy eyes looking down upon her with a fondness that was almost unbearable.
"Yes, I think I'll keep you after all," he rumbled.
Fawn's stomach swooped so wildly that she nearly swooned. One short year ago, those words would have sent a stab of pure terror to her heart. Now there was nothing she could have wanted more.
With a few more gentle, teasing words, Thomas made his way back to the settee, reclining leisurely over the soft velvet as he released Fawn carefully onto his chest. She settled into her favourite place, curling up in the dip where his neckline cut away. Pressing her head to his skin, she let the familiar sound of his heartbeat wash over her. Between the warmth of his body and the hearth's low glow, Fawn could feel her eyes growing heavy. She fidgeted slightly every few minutes, to keep herself awake.
"Why don't we turn in for the night," his deep voice tremored through her. "The sooner you sleep, the sooner it'll be Christmas morning."
Fawn shook her head drowsily. "Not yet. I want to look at the tree a little longer."
He huffed softly. "It'll be here tomorrow, Fawn. I promise you. Besides, you can barely keep your eyes open..."
She stifled a yawn. "I don't know what you mean..." she mumbled. I'm not even tired."
Her response earned her a light chuckle. "Stubborn little thing," he muttered.
They lapsed into silence for a while, Thomas breaking the stillness in a low whisper.
"I should bring you to London next Christmas," he ventured. "I think you would love it there. The entire city embraces the festivities. Stores and squares, market stalls and streets, all decorated in yuletide cheer. You wouldn't believe the size of some of the Christmas trees - "
He trailed off as he glanced downward at the small girl. Her eyes were shut, her beautiful face smooth and peaceful in her slumber. Thomas watched in wonder as her chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm, her body impossibly delicate. He lay his hand over her, his thumb stroking softly down her back. He laughed quietly to himself. "Not even tired, indeed."
She made a small sound of contentedness at his touch, curling closer into the curve of his palm.
Thomas heart clenched at the small movement. He didn't know through what wild miracle he had managed to earn her unguarded trust...her fearless devotion. But he did know that he would do everything in his power to protect her, to make certain she would never feel unloved and unworthy again.
After all, he himself knew the great weight of loneliness. She had saved him, given him back his happiness, his purpose. And to think, it all started with a single silk stocking and a simple Christmas wish.
Shaking his head incredulously, Thomas settled into the settee, his thoughts lost in the dying embers of the hearth. Above, the decorations on the mantlepiece glistened in the low light, the photograph of his family standing proudly in the center. And beside it: a small creased note, smoothed out and framed in gilded glass.
May the joy of the yuletide season be always in your heart.
Happy Christmas and lots of love,
xx F.B.
The End.
***
Author's Notes
Well everyone, that concludes The Stocking! A bittersweet moment for me, but I'm glad I was able to give these two the happiness they deserve. In this universe at least.
I decided to write this short because I needed a break from the mental exhaustion of The Godking. I'm proud I managed to complete it by the deadline, even if this chapter my most self-indulgent one yet (sometimes we all just need some heartwarming fluff - I know I do.)
If you've enjoyed this story, and my writing, please consider gifting a small amount to help me keep it up. Ko-fi is a fantastic platform that helps independent artists for the price of just a cup of coffee. And thank you so much to those who have given in the past. You are amazing.
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xx Rory