(Sequel to Little Roe)
How will Thomas Shelby handle his Little Roe who is now turning into a bit of a trouble maker. With her mischief and getting into trouble which somehow she always finds a clever way to get out of it. After all their is a sayin...
(Roelynn's P.O.V.) The streets of Birmingham where alive with the constant hum of early morning commerce, the clattering of horse drawn carts, the shout of newspaper boys, and the low murmer of voices blending with the sound of distant factory machines. The early morning chill nipped at my skin as I led Blue-Eye through the bustling streets, the sound of hooves on cobblestones grounding me in the present. The city was waking up, just as I had, but my mind was far from the normal rhythm of the day. The blacksmith’s shop loomed ahead, and I felt a flicker of relief. Blue-Eye had grown older and more stiffer with days passing. So I knew her hooves needed to be kept in perfect condition. The clinking of metal against hoof echoed in the small, dimly lit blacksmith's shop as the farrier worked with practiced precision, carefully trimming Blue-Eye’s hooves. I stood by, my hands digging into my coat to retrieve some grain. "Always eager for food, aye?" I chuckled as I handed her the grain which she engulfed in one bite. The rhythmic sound of hammering was almost soothing. But then, something shifted. The noise outside grew louder for a moment, and then it quieted, as though the entire street collectively held its breath. A familiar, almost tangible presence filled the space. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. The steady clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones, the unmistakable rhythm of my father’s horse. My heart skipped, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I glanced toward the door of the shop, just in time to see him—bareback, as always—riding past with his usual unshakable grace. It wasn’t the fact that he was barebacked that caught my attention; it was the way he moved, the calculated control of his every action. His dark coat swirled in the wind, his posture perfect, as though he were a shadow drifting through the fog. He didn’t see me, didn’t even glance in my direction, but I felt that sharp awareness that only a father could have, as if he knew I was watching. I frowned, my fingers tightening on the reins instinctively. Where was he going? He was never one for unexplained outings. A glance at the farrier told me he hadn’t noticed anything unusual, too absorbed in his work. But the oddity of my father’s sudden ride tugged at something inside me, an itch that needed scratching. I had no right to follow him. None at all. He’d made it clear—made it more than clear—that I was to stay out of the Peaky Blinders’ affairs. He was the boss, the man everyone feared, but I was his daughter, and he’d always shielded me from his world. He didn’t want me tangled in the mess, didn’t want me to see the darkness he dealt in. But curiosity—the kind that burns deep and refuses to be smothered—drove me forward. I couldn’t stay still. Not now. Not with that strange, unsettling feeling still crawling under my skin. I had to know where he was going, what business he had out there, hidden in the winding streets of Birmingham. I looked down at Blue-Eye, who shifted impatiently beside me, as if she, too, knew something was amiss. Her soft snort broke me from my thoughts, and I glanced around, checking to make sure no one was paying attention to me. The farrier was still focused on his work, the flickering of the forge’s fire casting long shadows around us. I exhaled, glancing one more time at my father’s retreating figure. My heart raced, but I ignored it. He wouldn’t suspect a thing. I was just a shadow. Another observer. And shadows could be easily forgotten. "All finished, Miss Shelby". My head snapped to the farrier who patted Blue-eye on her rump as he finished up. I nodded a thank you and handed him the money owed. Then I nudged Blue-Eye gently, guiding her toward the alley that ran parallel to the street. The clatter of her hooves seemed to punctuate my racing thoughts, but I kept my pace slow, deliberately avoiding any sign of attention. My breath caught in my throat as I rounded a corner and watched my father disappear into the distance. There was no turning back now. I had to follow him, had to understand what secret path he was walking down. Even if it meant stepping into a world I knew better than to enter. I kept to the shadows, moving quietly, my eyes always on him. Something in my chest tightened with every step. My father’s world was a dangerous one, and yet, the pull of it was undeniable. I should’ve walked away. I knew I should’ve. But something made me follow him. Something made my heart race as I watched from behind the crowd, eyes locked on his figure. I couldn’t help but feel like I was on the edge of something dangerous, something that would pull me in whether I wanted it or not. Dad didn’t look around, didn’t falter in his pace. He was a man with a purpose, and nothing seemed to distract him. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, scanning the streets, missing nothing. And I—well, I was a shadow, a quiet observer, just barely keeping my distance. But then, as he made his way down the quieter streets, something changed. The usual hustle of the city fell away, replaced by an eerie silence. It was as if the very air had thickened, the world around us holding its breath. People cleared a path for him, heads ducking in a reverence that only someone like dad could command. I moved closer, my pulse quickening. And then, I saw her. She emerged from the shadows, her movements calculated, controlled. Slender, her coat dark against the pale morning light. I didn’t trust her. The air around her seemed thick with something I couldn’t quite name. Her presence was unsettling, but it was more than that. I shifted slightly, trying to get a better view, my heart skipping as my gaze dropped to the bundle she produced from beneath her coat. A rare item. I could tell by the way dad's eyes narrowed, by the way his posture change. He wasn’t just receiving a gift. He was making a deal. But what kind of deal? The woman moved closer to dad's horse, her fingers brushing against the animal’s flank, and I froze. She was holding something—powder, shimmering and delicate, a substance I had never seen before. My mind raced. What was it? And why did it feel like I was about to witness something that would change everything? I stayed hidden in the shadows, my pulse hammering in my throat as I watched the woman move closer to my father's horse. The air seemed to shift again, this time growing heavier, charged with a kind of eerie anticipation. My eyes were fixed on her every movement. She held the powder delicately. Then, in one swift motion, she raised her hand, bringing her hand close to the horse’s nostrils. The delicate powder shimmered under the dull morning light. It was red—bright, unmistakably vivid, and I knew exactly what it was. The powder trick. A well-known cheat used by the desperate, the gamblers who didn’t care about the cost as long as they won. She gently blew the fine red powder from her hand, and I watched, horrified, as the dust settled across the horse’s nostrils.
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The horse flinched at first, its body shifting slightly as the powder touched it. But then, it relaxed. Its eyes glazed over for a moment, as if it had slipped into some trance, ready to run faster, harder, without hesitation. I couldn’t breathe. My father sat there, watching. The way he satbon the horse, unmoving, taking in the scene with the kind of calm that came from years of knowing the price of power, made my stomach churn. The woman stepped back, the transaction were done. The horse stood there, its breathing shallow and rapid, already feeling the effects of the powder. I had seen enough. My father didn’t seem to notice I was still there, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet. I had to understand what kind of world he was part of.
(Tommy's P.O.V.) I turned the horse around to ride back through the streets. Until a sudden voice halted me in my tracks. "Why did you use the powder trick?". Instantly I knew who it was - Roelynn.
