Sins of the Father | Sebastian x OFC (Caroline Rookwood) | Ominis x Garreth

Great Expectations

Caroline

**

Despite the drawn curtains and the warmth and embrace of her sheets, Caroline's eyes fluttered open at the honking seagulls outside her window. She groaned, burrowing further under her covers for comfort. It was not often she opted to lie in during the morning, but she was never excited for the holidays. Especially when Victor Rookwood had left in the early hours of Christmas Eve for an important business meeting.

And he had not returned since.

While her mama was hopeful as she adjusted the ribbons adorning the trees and garlands strewn around the villa, Caroline was not. When she was young, she would wake to the sound of honking seagulls, and the singing and hums of Vincent, her mama, and Tessie. Every morning she had a slight hope in her heart that 'day' would be the day her father would return to celebrate with them. And every morning for the past eight years, Caroline would wake up to disappointment. Because it was likely that Victor Rookwood would not return until after the new year.

'This' had become normal.

Her feelings had dulled at each open of her doors—at each glance at the lone Christmas tree in their library, at each unwrapped box of presents, and at each empty seat next to her mama.

But hope had not crumbled into complete disappointment Christmas morning—hope had found a way to hold her hand.

Caroline pouted, pulling back the covers to stare at the small box sitting by her wand on her bedside table—Sebastian's present. She had opened the box on a whim the night prior, distraught Victor had not yet returned home and had spent the night tossing and turning with Sebastian's present in hand.

Her fingers slipped over her sheets, reaching for his letter.

'I cannot in good conscience leave you alone without some form of my company, so please accept this sickle to bear all your thoughts until we meet again. Do Have a Happy Christmas, Caroline—and if you should find yourself in a precarious situation, I hope you shall hold this and ask yourself—what would Sebastian Sallow do?'

Caroline smiled at the cheek and charm of his words before shifting to sit, stretch, and untangle herself from the robes she had forgotten to shuck the night prior. Her feet padded along the warm rug as she reached her window to open the curtains, hand hovering along the fabric as the light caught the delicate metal, shaped to fit perfectly around her hand, held together by a single coin.

It was an old coin—well traveled through circulation, its face scratched with the marks of use, scuffed by dirt and all matters of life before it found its way into Sebastian's hands. It was not, however, the years' worth of stories etched into the metal that caught Caroline's eye but the faint engraving in the center bearing the initials "S.S.".

It certainly was far better than his Ever Ink etched on her hand—she thought with a smile, throwing open the window to breathe in the morning air. The villa wasn't the same—it wasn't Feldcroft. It was crisp, but not chilly. Salty but without the faint smell of grass. Warm without the scent of fire and woodsmoke. And at the sound of a soft knock at her door, she leaned against the windowsill—at odds with throwing the door open to find disappointment and an apologetic Tessie and her mama or climbing back into bed.

She hummed—tracing the curve of the "S.S." on the sickle—what would Sebastian Sallow do?

**

Sebastian Sallow would pout, hunch his shoulders, and shift his feet, often, with a frown—she thought. He did so when he was looking for forgiveness—especially at the loss of a page of her notes somewhere within his many textbooks or forgotten within the pages of a library book. Or at the occasional spill of his ever ink on Anne's essays. Or waking Ominis well before an 'allowable' hour.