❥ ¹⁵blood spread across the grass.. ꩜

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TW: this chapter contains death.

NINE MONTHS LATER.
November, 1920.

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MAGGIE HAD PREVIOUSLY SPENT, two nights at the Shelbourne Hotel in City Centre. Maggie was reluctant to leave Faye but Mick had promised her that he would find someone to look after her cat while she stayed in the Shelbourne — to her surprise, he actually had.

Mick was also staying in the city as well, though, Maggie was unsure of where. He did make sure to drop into her the previous night — even took her out for lunch on the first day she was there.

Currently, Maggie was walking down Sackville Street, on the complete opposite side of the city to where the Shelbourne Hotel was and closer to Croke Park. As the blonde woman walked past the General Post Office in the direction of the Liffey she couldn't help but notice the ruins it was in.

The reason for this was that Sackville Street had been shelled by the British army during the Easter rebellion of 1916, the General Post Office had been taken by the rebels and particularly targeted by the British army.

Half the street was blown up because of this and was simply left there to not be repaired. Maggie crossed over the O'Connell bridge that stretched over the River Liffey, she felt the chill of the winter setting in through her bones — in response she wrapped her coat around her more closely than before as an attempt to keep the cold breeze away.

Maggie had invited Mick to accompany her to the Dublin against Tipperary match in Croke Park but he had politely declined, his excuse being that he had business to take care of — Maggie had saw the disappointment in his eyes of not going to the match but she knew that he had to miss it because of 'the struggle for independence'.

Just then, a man cycled past her on a bicycle — the man she was just thinking about. "Michael!" She almost grinned at the sight of him, walking faster to keep up with him.

"Maggie, I've been cycling all around the city for you." He sighed, his voice serious and slightly shaky as he climbed off the bicycle. "Maggie, don't go to the match for the sake of my sanity and your safety." He warned her quietly, he grabbed her shoulders gently, his touch was harsh though — as if he was angry or worried.

Maggie's small grin melted off her face at his words, something in his words made her understand he wasn't joking. "What, why? What did you do? What happened, Mick?" She immediately began asking questions as to why he would say this.

"Maggie, I want you to listen to me very carefully and swear to me you're not telling a single soul of what I'm about to tell you." Mick ordered in that same grave voice, Maggie's hands began to shake. "Mick, you're scaring me, what did you do?" Maggie answered.

"Swear to me, Margaret!" He whisper-yelled, shaking her shoulders slightly. "I swear!" Maggie replied immediately, scared of what Mick was going to tell her and in reality — she wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

"If orders have been followed correctly, then six intelligence agents and two Auxiliary Forces should be shot dead and have been since the early hours of the morning." Mick told her in an extremely hushed voice, one she had to focus on really hard to understand what he said.

Maggie gasped at his words, quickly becoming upset but she not about to cause a scene in the middle of Dublin. Mick watched the colour drain from her face as quick as the blink of an eye, next thing he saw was her swatting his arm. "Jesus Christ, Mick." She sighed, feeling the urge to stomp her foot, a childish habit she had up until the age of seventeen — it was something Kitty used to tease her for while James would simply just chuckle at her.

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⏰ Last updated: Nov 24 ⏰

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