Multi-Fandom One Shots

New Things (Dahlia)

Days were calm in the woods. You and your partner were oddly similar in your enjoyment of quiet. It was strange. But, then, so was she. She kept insisting she'd been the mind behind your beloved England's Witchcraft Act 1735. You told her that was 90 years ago. She insisted. So round and round you went.

You and she ventured to town together, needing to collect some more useful food ingredients and you needed lavender seeds, the last harvest producing far too little for your liking. The people of the town watched you dismount your horse wagon with disdain as always. They not only viewed it as wrong for you, a woman, to drive a wagon, but that the both of you were women. They regarded you as spinsters to ignore your obvious connection.

Frankly, the two of you ignored your connection as well. She was only interested in you as you were a fellow witch and she'd needed a place to stay. She broke away from you and your shopping to get her own ingredients, for whatever locator spell she felt she needed. She was going with old magic as well. It was richer and stronger than anything you could manage, but that might have just been her.

The sun was high in the sky by the time you were finished and you wandered about to find Dahlia by a blank book. Upon approaching her, you found there were dots risen from the parchment.

"What is this?" Dahlia breathed, sensing your presence.

You stepped even closer, reaching her personal space as you felt the bumps. "Some French inventor designed a book for the blind."

She turned to you in awe.

You stared back at her, not understanding why she was so amazed. This had been around for at least a decade. Grabbing it, you turned to the market-owner. "And another!" you shouted to her, holding up the book. All you were gathering was brought together and you paid with the coins in your purse.

"Did you just purchase that for me?"

"Can we go?" you asked, facing her.

"Yes."

"Yes!" you answered, holding the basket you brought and loaded your items down with to her. The pair of you returned to your wagon, making the trek through the wood's trail, finding your hidden cottage easily. You dismounted again, taking the horse to be pinned with his sister while your companion took your commodities inside. You set the wagon on its stand before following. "I will tend to the garden today." You stretched, taking your scarf off. "Do you feel up to making dinner?"

The brunette in the kitchen didn't move.

"Dahlia?" you called, stepping up to her.

She turned to you, a strange look in her eye. It made you pause in oblivious confusion. She stepped up to you and took your hand. "Thank you."

You bend away in more confusion. "For...?"

Dahlia smiled more freely than you'd ever seen her expressions go. The ends of her eyes creased, her cheekbones bulging, her eyes lit up, and her lips pressed together, rising on one side. She laughed. "Showing me more than what I've ever been given." She took your hands, hers wrinkled and calloused from centuries, if she was to be believed, of witch-work.

"Then I'm afraid you've had a very poor sampling of loved ones."

Another laugh and one of her hands left yours to cup your face, leaning forward. She pressed her lips against yours for a brief moment. Smiling widely, she pulled back, hand traveling from your cheek to the underside of your jaw. "Does this mean you believe me?" she asked.

You laughed. "You're certainly more powerful than any witch I've ever encountered."

Her cheerful smile curved into a smirk, eyes dancing with devilish intent. "You have no idea, my dear," she promised.