Havemercy Fic - Crossing the Line (6/28)
Title: Crossing The Line
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,217 for this chapter
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to the wonderful Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett, although there may be one or two of my own creation :)
Summary: When he decides to search for an art tutor, little does sixteen year old Etienne know that he's about to embark on an adventurous summer of maturity, secrets and self-discovery. However, he's not the only one in the family who's been hiding things, as Castle Nevers will never be the same again.
Author's Notes: Thanks once more to manyfacesofme22
( Previous Chapters)
Ethan
My recent portraits had been a great success, and I knew that I owed a part of that to Etienne. Whereas my critical eye had focussed only the small faults and flaws in my work, he praised them with a young zeal that reminded me once more of the beauty of art. I learnt to look at the whole picture again, and appreciate it for what it was, not to agonise over minute aspects that only I could care about. In short, he had awoken my passion for art.
In some ways he reminded me of myself, and the way he talked of art was like conversing with a mirror, only the reflection was twenty-five years younger. He was a breath of fresh air to the house, one that I feared was much needed, and I looked forward to his visits with an enthusiasm I hadn’t felt since before my wife died. He brought something alive in me that had gone with her.
Even greater, I knew, was his impact on Jude.
The boys seemed to spend all their time together, their banter filling all corners of the house as they fulfilled Jude’s chores, or splashing each other playfully when they were supposed to be washing the windows, or chatting idly whilst Etienne painted. I’d had to resort to banning Jude from the study more than once, just so that Etienne could concentrate properly on what he was working on.
He had made great progress, experimenting with different techniques and trying out new crafts. He’d never used oils or inks before, and practised using them with relish, the delight on his face when he saw the brightness of the ink reflected in his smile. I’d left the study one day when he was using charcoal and returned ten minutes later to find black smudges covering both his and Jude’s faces.
He’d almost scrubbed his face raw before he left that day. I overheard Jude asking him about the following morning.
“Your family don’t know you’re here, do they?”
There was a pause. “No,” Etienne had admitted. “They don’t think that art is a suitable subject for a boy to study.”
“But you carried on anyway?”
He hesitated. “I don’t see the harm it could do. As long as Mama and Papa don’t find out, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“My, my, lying to your parents? Such a bad influence,” Jude teased.
Etienne sighed. “I don’t like lying to them, but it’s the only way I could continue.”
I’d felt sorry for him, and wondered what kind of parents would stop their children from doing something that they liked. As long as it wasn’t dangerous - and art certainly wasn’t - parents should encourage their children and engaged their interests. I’d talked briefly to talk to Etienne about his parents after overhearing his conversation with Jude, but every time I mentioned them, he would tense up and give short answers, eager to change the topic. He eventually told me about his parents’ disapproval of his love of art, and although I didn’t like him coming here in secret, and I sincerely hoped that it would not one day get him in trouble, I couldn’t refuse his passion for it. I would not stop his lessons; I could only hope that things would be alright if he told them.
I’d been tutoring him for just over three weeks when he surprised me.
“My sister was asking about my absence yesterday, and I had to tell her the truth. Do you think she could visit?”
“Of course,” I replied. I hesitated. “She won’t…cause any problems for you, will she? Like your parents might?”
“Oh, no, she won’t. She’s interested in what I’m doing, that’s all.” The conviction in his voice was enough to soothe my worries, and a few days later, he arrived at his usual time with a young lady that was unmistakable as his sister.
“Hallo,” she introduced herself, “my name is Emilie.”
She was as pleasant as her brother, talking with Jude, Etienne and I in the study until lunchtime. She was greatly interested in my work, and gave a little squeal when she saw what Etienne had produced.
“They’re so good!” she gushed, beaming proudly at Etienne. He blushed and waved aside her praise. Jude watched their exchanges with a fond smile, and it was a look that I knew well. It was the same one that I used to use whenever I looked upon my wife. I followed his gaze, but couldn’t discern whether it was aimed at Etienne or Emilie. A small part of me hoped that it was aimed at Emilie, just so that his future would be easier. Another part suspected it was for Etienne.
As there were only a few chores, and we had a visitor, I let the boys do what they wanted in the afternoon. Emilie had spotted the flowers in the garden, and asked to go and inspect them closer. The three of them traipsed outside, and I watched them from the kitchen window as I washed up.
Jude found two sticks on the ground and poked Etienne with one of them before giving him the other. I couldn’t hear the words exchanged between the two of them, but after a few more prods from Jude - and I would have to have a word with him about boundaries - Etienne started returning the jibes, the two of them brandishing the sticks as weapons and attacking with them like they were swords. Etienne took a few steps back, and I realised where he was heading.
“No!” I shouted, just as he took that final step and stumbled, falling into the pond. I rushed outside to where Jude was kneeling on the edge of the grass. Etienne was sitting in the shallow water, a look of surprise etched on his face. My eyes flew over his body, and I noted with relief that he seemed unharmed.
“Watch out, there’s a pond there,” said Jude cheerfully.
Emilie reached us from the far end of the garden, took one look at her brother, and laughed.
Etienne got up slowly, and Jude extended a hand to help him get out. He took it, though he didn’t really need to, and once he was on the grass he looked down at his wet, muddy clothes.
“We’ll leave them out to dry. Jude, can you lend him something to wear in the meantime?”
The boys took rather longer than I expected them to, and I was about to ask Emilie to find out where they’d gotten to when they reappeared, Etienne looking much drier in Jude’s clothes and his own wet ones hanging limply in his hands. I took them from him to hang out to dry in the garden, and declined their offer of joining them in showing Emilie around the village. They returned around an hour later, stopping only for Etienne to get changed back into his own clothes and to say goodbye, and Emilie thanking me for letting her stay the day.
“You like spending time with them, don’t you?” I asked Jude over dinner.
He nodded, smiling down at his plate, and my chest ached slightly. I hadn’t seen such a carefree smile on his face since before we’d moved here.
Next
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,217 for this chapter
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to the wonderful Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett, although there may be one or two of my own creation :)
Summary: When he decides to search for an art tutor, little does sixteen year old Etienne know that he's about to embark on an adventurous summer of maturity, secrets and self-discovery. However, he's not the only one in the family who's been hiding things, as Castle Nevers will never be the same again.
Author's Notes: Thanks once more to manyfacesofme22
( Previous Chapters)
Ethan
My recent portraits had been a great success, and I knew that I owed a part of that to Etienne. Whereas my critical eye had focussed only the small faults and flaws in my work, he praised them with a young zeal that reminded me once more of the beauty of art. I learnt to look at the whole picture again, and appreciate it for what it was, not to agonise over minute aspects that only I could care about. In short, he had awoken my passion for art.
In some ways he reminded me of myself, and the way he talked of art was like conversing with a mirror, only the reflection was twenty-five years younger. He was a breath of fresh air to the house, one that I feared was much needed, and I looked forward to his visits with an enthusiasm I hadn’t felt since before my wife died. He brought something alive in me that had gone with her.
Even greater, I knew, was his impact on Jude.
The boys seemed to spend all their time together, their banter filling all corners of the house as they fulfilled Jude’s chores, or splashing each other playfully when they were supposed to be washing the windows, or chatting idly whilst Etienne painted. I’d had to resort to banning Jude from the study more than once, just so that Etienne could concentrate properly on what he was working on.
He had made great progress, experimenting with different techniques and trying out new crafts. He’d never used oils or inks before, and practised using them with relish, the delight on his face when he saw the brightness of the ink reflected in his smile. I’d left the study one day when he was using charcoal and returned ten minutes later to find black smudges covering both his and Jude’s faces.
He’d almost scrubbed his face raw before he left that day. I overheard Jude asking him about the following morning.
“Your family don’t know you’re here, do they?”
There was a pause. “No,” Etienne had admitted. “They don’t think that art is a suitable subject for a boy to study.”
“But you carried on anyway?”
He hesitated. “I don’t see the harm it could do. As long as Mama and Papa don’t find out, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“My, my, lying to your parents? Such a bad influence,” Jude teased.
Etienne sighed. “I don’t like lying to them, but it’s the only way I could continue.”
I’d felt sorry for him, and wondered what kind of parents would stop their children from doing something that they liked. As long as it wasn’t dangerous - and art certainly wasn’t - parents should encourage their children and engaged their interests. I’d talked briefly to talk to Etienne about his parents after overhearing his conversation with Jude, but every time I mentioned them, he would tense up and give short answers, eager to change the topic. He eventually told me about his parents’ disapproval of his love of art, and although I didn’t like him coming here in secret, and I sincerely hoped that it would not one day get him in trouble, I couldn’t refuse his passion for it. I would not stop his lessons; I could only hope that things would be alright if he told them.
I’d been tutoring him for just over three weeks when he surprised me.
“My sister was asking about my absence yesterday, and I had to tell her the truth. Do you think she could visit?”
“Of course,” I replied. I hesitated. “She won’t…cause any problems for you, will she? Like your parents might?”
“Oh, no, she won’t. She’s interested in what I’m doing, that’s all.” The conviction in his voice was enough to soothe my worries, and a few days later, he arrived at his usual time with a young lady that was unmistakable as his sister.
“Hallo,” she introduced herself, “my name is Emilie.”
She was as pleasant as her brother, talking with Jude, Etienne and I in the study until lunchtime. She was greatly interested in my work, and gave a little squeal when she saw what Etienne had produced.
“They’re so good!” she gushed, beaming proudly at Etienne. He blushed and waved aside her praise. Jude watched their exchanges with a fond smile, and it was a look that I knew well. It was the same one that I used to use whenever I looked upon my wife. I followed his gaze, but couldn’t discern whether it was aimed at Etienne or Emilie. A small part of me hoped that it was aimed at Emilie, just so that his future would be easier. Another part suspected it was for Etienne.
As there were only a few chores, and we had a visitor, I let the boys do what they wanted in the afternoon. Emilie had spotted the flowers in the garden, and asked to go and inspect them closer. The three of them traipsed outside, and I watched them from the kitchen window as I washed up.
Jude found two sticks on the ground and poked Etienne with one of them before giving him the other. I couldn’t hear the words exchanged between the two of them, but after a few more prods from Jude - and I would have to have a word with him about boundaries - Etienne started returning the jibes, the two of them brandishing the sticks as weapons and attacking with them like they were swords. Etienne took a few steps back, and I realised where he was heading.
“No!” I shouted, just as he took that final step and stumbled, falling into the pond. I rushed outside to where Jude was kneeling on the edge of the grass. Etienne was sitting in the shallow water, a look of surprise etched on his face. My eyes flew over his body, and I noted with relief that he seemed unharmed.
“Watch out, there’s a pond there,” said Jude cheerfully.
Emilie reached us from the far end of the garden, took one look at her brother, and laughed.
Etienne got up slowly, and Jude extended a hand to help him get out. He took it, though he didn’t really need to, and once he was on the grass he looked down at his wet, muddy clothes.
“We’ll leave them out to dry. Jude, can you lend him something to wear in the meantime?”
The boys took rather longer than I expected them to, and I was about to ask Emilie to find out where they’d gotten to when they reappeared, Etienne looking much drier in Jude’s clothes and his own wet ones hanging limply in his hands. I took them from him to hang out to dry in the garden, and declined their offer of joining them in showing Emilie around the village. They returned around an hour later, stopping only for Etienne to get changed back into his own clothes and to say goodbye, and Emilie thanking me for letting her stay the day.
“You like spending time with them, don’t you?” I asked Jude over dinner.
He nodded, smiling down at his plate, and my chest ached slightly. I hadn’t seen such a carefree smile on his face since before we’d moved here.
Next