The Legacy of Maisie -- Lorien Legacies Fanfiction

Part 4 | Chapter Thirteen

Sam and I walk out into the living room with our arms around each other's shoulders and see Marina and Eight on the couch, cuddled against each other, watching a movie. I notice a DVD case on the table that reads Pirates of the Carribean: On Stranger Tides. A mermaid with a beautiful red tail swims across the screen, bringing a young sailor with her. Marina nuzzles closer to Eight. They adjust their grip on each other's hands.

My eyes dart to auburn hair sitting beside them. Green eyes turn to face me. "Great movie, huh?" his tanned lips say.

My eyes go wide at the boy in my nightmares. A sharp inhale makes its way into my lungs.

"What?" Sam asks, quickly. "What is it?"

But I blink and Warner is gone.

I clear my throat. "Nothing, just thought I saw something."

Sam's eyes linger on me, his lips parted slightly. "Al-alright then."

We continue into the kitchen. Malcolm and Ella sit across from each other at the table, so absorbed in their conversation that they don't notice when we enter. Five peaks over the fridge door, but soon resumes rummaging through it when he identifies us.

"Are you hungry?" Sam questions. "I can make you something or-"

"Sam, I am perfectly capable... of..." I trail off, my eyebrows knitting together, my mouth opening.

Sam's gaze follows mine. He squints his eyes, tilting his head, trying to see what I am seeing. "Um, May, that's the stove... and, uh, the oven," he states, hesitantly.

I close my eyes for a few seconds, then open them again. Warner is still standing there, leaning his hand on one of the rings. He gives me this smirk that I just want to rip off his face.

"You're dead," I say to him, my eyes grey slits.

"Well, I'm right here, now aren't I, darling?" he replies.

"May? Are you okay?" Sam asks in an urgent tone.

"No, you're not," I say, coldly.

"Try me," he pushes, his voice low.

I take a step forward, slipping out of Sam's arms. "You're... not... real," I say, my voice a growl.

"Yeah, just like you're not a red-head and Sammy here doesn't have blue eyes," he taunts.

Sam puts his hand on my shoulder. "May, what's going on?"

I shake him off, taking another step forward. "Just... get out of my head."

"Like your memories were taken out of your head?" he suggests followed by an open-mouthed sneer. "Because Beloved Leader would be more than happy to do it again. After all, the files of your memories were destroyed during the attack on Deluce."

"That's what you want me to think," I retort.

"No, I am somewhat controlled by Beloved Leader. Not just you," he informs me.

"Listen here, you bastard," I spit at him. "Get off the bloody hob. Get out of this bloody penthouse. Get out of my bloody head. And get your disgusting self away from me!"

He's silent as I stare daggers at him.

"Was that supposed to be a threat?" he finally asks.

"Well, it wasn't a bloody invitation," I snap.

"Okay, alright. I get it. You're an angry Brit," he mocks me.

I purse my lips, narrowing my eyes further at him.