Passion for War

Chapter 7:

Fitz:

Entering the pub I am greeted by the stench of booze and a loud crowd circulating someone playing a piano. Drunk and still holding their half-empty cups they sing along to an old sailor's song about his wife. The song was sung by sailors every time they missed their home for too long after having been out at sea for months, even years. It was never heard by their wives given the words they would sing so it was always a secret song.

The place is quite nice, everything seems to be of the best quality London has to offer, which makes me question how he got it to look this good. I am visiting an old friend from a few years back. Hunter Kingsley, I knew him in the First World War. We both drafted and fought in the war but it is a time I choose to forget. Today I am here for his help.

As I get closer to the crowd I find him sitting at the piano playing the music. His voice is horrible but he is fully aware of that. Eventually, I catch his attention but he continues. I'll wait, I have time.

I take a seat in the far back of the pub and patiently wait for him to finish his little show. I'm visiting him today in hopes that he can help me figure out what is wrong with Madeleine and how to fix her. Yesterday after our argument she was left heartbroken by my words. I did feel a tinge of guilt but I wasn't wrong in what I said. I wanted to apologise to her but she was with Thea so I decided to take the day and leave the house for some air. Her presence is suffocating in a good way. All I want to do is be near her. I have experienced these strange feelings towards her for quite some time. Even before, when I met her for the first time. I was captivated by her, she looked so fragile but the closer I got to her the more I realised that her rose had many thorns. She reminded me of a white rose, so pure and stood out from the rest but each encounter led to her being tainted in some way. I never felt guilty for it, her heartbreaks her tears and her frustrations towards what I had dragged her into, never affected me. Even when I tricked her into kissing me and taking the opportunity to dig into her head, I never felt guilty for it. When she finally found the will to hurt me, I felt a sense of pride. She was able to do something that she knew would hurt her. Madeleine is a loving and gentle woman but she is also strong, curious and persistent. Ever since I met her, I had this need to bring her into my world and experience it with me. After everything she went through, I don't regret dragging her with me. I knew then that I would protect her if it got too out of hand or if she couldn't handle it. Even though she feels as though she is breaking and falling apart, she is handling it better than I could ever have thought.

I admit that I have grown an attachment to this woman, one I may never be able to understand. This attachment goes further than the mate bond we share, I find a sense of peace in her turmoil. Knowing she needs me brings me peace because I know that I can protect her in the end.

However I have been frustrated these past couple of months, I have no idea how to help her in this and it bugs me.

Eventually, the song ends and the crowd breaks apart as people go to their respective seats. Henry stands and makes his way towards my table.

"I thought we agreed to never cross paths," he says, his Irish accent thick. "Well unfortunately circumstances bring me to your doorstep." he waves a hand at the bartender to bring drinks. I suppose it will help, this might take a while.

"Fuck me, that is a lot," he says after hearing the whole story, he takes another gulp of his drink, mine untouched. "So what do you want from me?" I grin at his puzzled look. Henry is a skilled gifted, he practises all sorts of magic ranging from dark and so on. He's skilled in it all. "You knew Irene very well-" "No," he says, shaking his head, his hair falling over his eyes. I sigh as I wait for him to explain. "That woman was as mental as Jack," he says before sitting back and finishing his drink. Jack the Ripper, London's most feared serial killer and the one that was never identified. Of course we know what he looks like and who he is but we would never disclose such information. He had a thing for women and loved killing prostitutes, I was never interested in why. "She was the one that did this to her." He shakes his head again. "Your power was equal to hers, why the sudden fear?" I ask grinning as he glares at me. Henry and Irene were known as the two most powerful magic wielders in our time. "Her magic is probably as chaotic as her." he snorts before grazing a hand over his beard. "I seem to remember you being the most chaotic during the war," I say, playing with the candle at the centre of the table. "Not as mentally unstable as you were." He fires back. I clear my throat changing the subject, no need to dwindle on the past.