The Guardian of Halloween [A Disney Fanfic]

𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔗𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢 [𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 2]

☆.｡.:* 🕷️ *:.｡.☆

The Evil Stepfather [Lord Tremaine] x fem! reader

☆.｡.:* 🕷️ *:.｡.☆

La Toussaint had arrived in Paris, and with it had come the scent of chrysanthemums mingling with the fresh foggy morning breeze. It had rained the night before, washing the streets clean of muck and pinning the warm amber leaves to the cobblestones where they lay as if they had been placed there for the celebration of the holiday.

And though Y/N had no one to mourn, she made her way to the graveyard with a book, taking a seat on one of the empty benches and watching the families as they mulled about, lying out brilliant coloured chrysanthemums for those in their lives who had passed on. As she watched, Y/N thought of her mother. She was all Y/N had to mourn. She had no brothers or sisters, no extended family, and though she couldn't see her father anymore in person, she knew he was still watching over her from the stars. She didn't even have any grandparents to mourn, as they had joined the stars before her birth. Watching the families lay flowers down for their family members was as close as Y/N was going to get to mourning her mother with flowers.

"Are you all right, mademoiselle?"

Y/N stilled at the sudden voice, hastily wiping away tears that she hadn't known had fallen. "Yes, I-I'm all right." She turned to thank the stranger, but her words died on her tongue. It was him. The stranger she had danced with a few days earlier on an empty stage. He was here, in Paris, in the graveyard. A basket of chrysanthemums was dangling from one arm, the other occupied with holding his cane. She felt like voicing her surprise at seeing the man or voicing her recognition was a little brash so she shut her mouth and turned back to the graveyard, her hands fidgeting and her fingers dancing across the cover of her book.

"May I join you?"

Y/N nodded, attempting to keep the stiffness out of her movements. She didn't dislike the man at all, but all she could think about was the way they had danced. A rather intimate dance for the time, touching each other in places that would have gossipers spreading news like wildfire across Paris. Nothing that crossed the line but enough passion that both their reputations would be tarnished. But the man hadn't said anything about it, so Y/N decided to force the night from her mind and pretend as if she didn't know him.

"Do you not have anyone to mourn today, mademoiselle," the man asked, taking a seat beside Y/N. "I was sure that a young lady such as yourself would spend today with your family, remembering grandparents and the like."

Y/N turned to the man. "No one here for me to miss anyway. My family is all..." She paused for a moment. "Elsewhere." She turned back to the graveyard, smiling when she noticed a young family making their way toward a barren gravestone, baskets full of fresh chrysanthemums ready to lay down in honour of their dead. A young boy was among them, carrying a bouquet of orange flowers, dressed in his Sunday best. Y/N wondered who they were mourning. Most likely a grandparent or such.

"If you don't mind me asking," Y/N said after a moment, turning back toward the man. She waited for him to consent to her asking a question. No doubt he already knew what she was going to ask, what with such heavy thoughts lingering around the graveyard. "Who did you bring chrysanthemums for?" She nodded to the basket of chrysanthemums at his feet.

"My late wives," the man answered. He had a fond smile on his face as he spoke. "The first passed five years ago and the second three years ago and I have been trying to raise my daughters and son by myself ever since." He sighed, his hands working their way around the top of his cane. "There is only so much a father can do for three young children. They have no female presence in their life and I fear what that may do to them."