The Moon's Guardian: The Secret of Moon Acre x reader

Chapter 1

I spent months researching all words I wasn't sure were used in the 1840s so yea. I aslo read a few older books for this. It was torture but I did it for you. This story has taken me over a year to complete and I just want to say thank you for reading this it means a lot. This movie has always been close to my heart, Dakota Blue Richards was the one that made me realize I liked girls and Robin was what made me realize I was bi, haha. I really wanted this to be perfect because I know fanfic's about this Movie are not being made as much because it's so old. I hope you enjoy it. ;)

I stand at the edge of my father's freshly dug grave, the depressing atmosphere enveloping the cemetery. The priest, performs the final rites. "Colonel George Herbert Merryweather... ashes to ashes... dust to dust. In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection into eternal life. What the Lord giveth, he also taketh away. The fever of life is over," his words echo, carrying the weight of finality. I steal a glance at my younger sister, tears welling in her eyes, and gently lean towards her. "Hey, it will be okay," I whisper, attempting to offer solace amidst her grief. Miss Heliotrope, our governess, taps me on the shoulder, silently urging me to remain composed. I turn my attention back to the grave.

A flicker of movement catches my peripheral vision, diverting my attention from the proceedings. I shift my gaze and spot a boy standing nearby, his face partially obscured by a cloth covering his nose. Curiosity flickers within me, momentarily distracting me. However, I quickly refocus my attention, keeping my gaze fixed on my father's final resting place. The funeral concludes, and as I glance back, the boy has disappeared, leaving a lingering sense of curiosity. 

We board a carriage, Maria, Miss Heliotrope, and I, heading towards the building where our father's will is to be read. The lawyer begins. "Ah, the Merryweathers," he intones, preparing to read the will.

"This is the last will and testament of Colonel Herbert Merryweather of London." Miss Heliotrope's gaze fixates on the lawyer, her voice trembling with disbelief. "He... he... lost it all?" she questions, seeking confirmation. The lawyer solemnly nods, confirming the devastating truth. "Including the house?" Miss Heliotrope presses, her voice filled with a mix of despair and incredulity. Once again, the lawyer nods, further confirming our family's destitution. A mix of frustration and resignation wells up within me, and I scoff, bitterness seeping into my voice. "Of course. Of course he did," I mutter, my words laced with a sense of bitter acceptance. Maria, overwhelmed by emotions, raises her voice, her anger tinged with desperation. "No! No, Papa can't have been in London. Why, he wrote to me and said that he was coming home. He wouldn't arrive and not..." Her voice trails off, shattered by the harsh reality.

The lawyer then presents Maria with a book, "Ah, well, your father did leave you this book... as your inheritance," he reveals, offering a small glimmer of consolation amidst the overwhelming loss. Maria accepts the book, titled The Ancient Chronicles of Moonacre Valley. Despite the passage of time, the book remains impeccably preserved, its aged leather cover unblemished. As you run your fingers along its edges, you feel the delicate touch of pearls, meticulously encrusted within the surface, their lustrous sheen mirroring the moon's gentle glow. Every inch of the book is adorned with intricate gold detailing, meticulously crafted by skilled hands long ago. Golden filigree dances along the borders. We leave the lawyer's office, returning to the carriage that will carry us back home. As we embark on the journey, I sit in silence, gazing out of the window, my mind filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Fatigue weighs heavily upon me as we arrive home. I walk to my room, seeking solace within the familiar confines of my personal sanctuary. I change into a dressing gown, the weight of the day still lingering upon me. My eyes drift towards Maria, her presence a comforting reassurance amidst the turmoil. Miss Heliotrope enters the room, her kind intentions overshadowed by the weight of the situation. "I know this is hard, but, you know, I'm sure that your father did... did love you," she offers, her words tinged with a mix of sympathy and consolation. Rolling my eyes, I turn away, seeking respite in the solitude of my bed. "He... he just... And, you know, everybody does have to go out on their own at some point in their lives and..." Miss Heliotrope's well-intentioned words are interrupted by Maria, her voice filled with a determination to project strength. "Miss Heliotrope, I'm fine! Really," Maria interjects, her words a gentle but firm assertion of her emotional state. As Miss Heliotrope exits the room, I catch her murmurs to herself, a quiet reassurance amid her own uncertainties. "Yes. Mm-hm. Mm-hm," she mumbles, her voice carrying a mix of empathy and contemplation.