It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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THE DAYS WERE GETTING SHORTER, THE NIGHTS WERE GETTING COLDER. But it was different when she was next to Thomas, he was her warmth in the middle of the cold autumn night, and so was Mercy to him. She makes his whole world feel so right when it's wrong, she lights his entire life up even when it's dark. Mercedes de Silva was everything he needed, everything he could ask for, everything that makes him feel alive—what could even go wrong at this point? Love was not something they saw in their own parents, and they often wondered if it was truly worth sacrificing for or fighting for. But it only took one kiss and a meeting of their gazes for them to be prepared for the war that was to come.
An electrical jolt seeped through Mercy's body, eyes snapping open as beads of cold sweat were trickling down on both sides of her temple. Her heart was pounding frantically against its ribcage as if wanting to escape as she starkly remembered the cold metal grip of the gun she used to kill Jaime.
"Love?" Thomas asked, quickly awoken by her jerky movement and shaky breath. "You alright?" Mercy swallowed the dry lump on her throat as she stared at him, who's now turning on the switch of the lampshade. The dim light coming from it barely illuminated the dark room of Mercy, but enough for Thomas to see his woman.
Thomas pulled her closer, allowing Mercy to nestle the side of her face to his chest, her hand placed also on it. He was getting used to her nightmares everytime he would spend the night at her house, or the other way around. He caressed her knuckles, "Another nightmare?" he whispered and he immediately felt her nod.
His other hand was on her back, and chin placed right above her jet-black hair, "You want to tell me about it?" Mercy shook her head slowly, feeling the energy drained out of her body. Thomas understood it clearly that she didn't want to tell him the nightmares she'd been having again ever since they went to the auction house almost two weeks ago, after all, Thomas had the idea of what was it all about.
They lay in the warm, comfortable bed in silence, no one uttering a single word or noise except Mercy's unsteady breathing and the wind passing through the slight gap in the room's window, "I'm an evil woman, am I not?" she said in a soft tone as Thomas continues to draw circles on her back using his thumb.
"What makes you think so?" questioned the Shelby man.
There was a long pause after he spoke, it was as if Mercy was digging out the words in her mind "...Cause I killed a man and people died because of me," she answered, not bothering to look up at him. The rhythmic beating of his heart and breathing slowly calmed her down, it was melody to her ears—his touch felt like he was sticking back all of her broken pieces together.
Thomas let out a low sigh, "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Death was the payment for the acts of his wickedness, and you, my angel, only delivered it to him. He should've seen it coming," he replied, attempting to provide solace with his reasoning. Mercy just closed her eyes, now wrapping her hand on his waist.
