love knows no bounds | thomas shelby

amidst the rose thorns

".. and give him peace.. amen."

it was a somber day at the graveyard as family and friends of freddie thorne stood silently near his freshly dug grave. the sky above was a dull shade of gray, with thick, heavy clouds hanging low, threatening rain but never releasing a drop. the cold air cut through the cemetery like a sharpened blade, biting into every exposed piece of skin. each breath came out in small puffs of steam, visible reminders of the frigid temperature that gripped the mourners as they stood around freddie's grave.

freddie's final resting place lay beneath a blanket of earth, and around it, there were no bright flowers, no burst of color to soften the scene. only the deep red of roses on distant graves stood out against the otherwise monochrome landscape.

eveline stood tall next to arthur, just behind thomas.

she wore a black dress that seemed to have been crafted for her, with the delicate lace and silk fitting perfectly to her figure. the material hugged her waist, cinched by a narrow velvet belt. the high neckline, adorned with intricate embroidery, rises just below her chin. her long sleeves clung closely to her arms, the fine lace panels whispering against her skin with every slight movement. her dark brunette hair had been styled into soft, meticulous finger waves, framing her face.

atop her head, a small black pillbox hat rested, its sheer veil cascading delicately over her face. as the wind gently tugged at the edges of the veil, eveline remained still, poised in the biting cold, with her eyes fixed forward on freddie's grave.

freddie thorne, the war veteran who had fought shoulder to shoulder with thomas shelby, succumbed to the spanish influenza, a virus as relentless as any battlefield he had ever seen.

the flu, merciless and swift, was claiming millions of lives. it spread from city to city, seeping into every corner of society, sparing neither the weak nor the strong. hospitals were overflowing with the sick and dying, their beds full and hallways packed.

freddie was just another victim in the long line of those stricken by the disease. no amount of strength, no history of surviving the horrors of war could save him from the fate that had befallen so many others.

it was not bullets or bombs that claimed freddie thorne, but a silent killer that swept through the world with cold efficiency.

eveline glanced up at ada, standing across from her with karl in her arms. dressed in all black, ada's face was pale, and eveline could see her blinking rapidly in attempt to push back the tears that threatened to fall. her throat moved as she swallowed her pain. yet ada stood tall despite the weight of grief pressing down on her.

eveline's gaze then shifted to karl, who no longer resembled the tiny baby they had cooed over months ago. he sat upright in ada's arms, his small hands playing with the neckline of her dress. his soft head of hair catched against the chilly wind.

eveline's heart ached as she watched them. ada, so young, had barely had time to call freddie her husband before he was taken from her. now she was left to raise their child alone. eveline ward could not imagine the depth of ada's pain, and how it must feel to stand at her husband's grave, with her son in her arms.

little karl, too young to ever remember his father, would grow up only hearing stories of freddie.

ward's chest tightened as she thought about that, about how unfair it was that karl would never get to look up to his father, to learn from him, to share moments together. 

the boy's tiny hands continued to tug at his mother's dress, unaware of the sorrow around him.

the youngest shelby daughter was strong, but no one should have to bear such a heavy burden.