The Iron Queen: Six Feet Under

Section III: Rich Catholics

CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, IMPLIED VIOLENCE, SLIGHTLY SEXUAL THEMES, IMPLIED SEXUAL THEMES

Section III: Rich Catholics

Mercedes Kingsley

"They weren't going to take you, you know? It was all a ploy to make Hawkscliffe go willingly," I said, glancing over to the horrified Howard sitting next to me.

"What?" he asked, his sad, grey eyes turning glossy.

"But you needn't worry, they haven't hurt him."

"How do you know?!"

"I'll explain it at the trial."

"The trial?"

"Well of course, the trial. The trial we will have when we return to England. The trial that will condemn all these barbarians and their accomplices to hang from a rope."

"So we'll be able to go home?"

"Some of us."

He gave me another horrified look, running his hands through his curly, black hair, he sighed. Between the thick, jet-coloured strands, I swear I could see some white and grey poke through.

"You needn't worry," I told him.

"How can I not?"

"Good question."

He let out a slight chuckle and leaned his head back to the wall. A concerned look adorned his face, but it was soon met with one of confusion. A stream of different emotions seems to always flood his face. I'll admit that I would pay to be able to look through that man's head, even if it would only be just this once.

I started to see why people call me a know-it-all behind my back. I have no quarrel with that, as I do know it all. Not exactly 'it all', but quite close. Only a fool would believe that they know everything there is to know. The only reason I did not tell Mr Howard why I knew what I know, was because I had seen enough of his character to know that he would not understand; he was simply too innocent. Also, because if anyone with half a brain listened in on our conversation, I would be dead meat. Sure, I had a desperate death wish, but hanging by order of the crown wasn't the way I wished to go.

Section III.I

Carlisle Hawkscliffe did not return during the voyage, but I could only see that as a positive thing; since the brutes on this ship were preoccupied spending their nights with Carlisle, they had not returned to take another one of us. I did not waste my time feeling sorry for the poor blonde, as I knew he wasn't being hurt. Hurt in the eyes of English law? Yes. Hurt in the eyes of the purely physical? No. Hurt in the eyes of the purely psychological? Probably. But Carlisle was a strong man; I knew he had been treated worse before, he would most definitely recover. I could not say the same for poor Charles who was shivering beside me.

The journey did not last longer than the men had led us to expect, yet half of the people in this room had gone barking mad as soon as they lost their sense of time. Luckily enough for me, Charles had only gone slightly insane; I could live with that.

We both knew that it was not proper for us to acknowledge each other by our Christian names, however, considering our current situation, we let proper be damned. It was more me having to convince him to call me Mercedes than the opposite; names had never been my strong suit so I always called people by their first names, also, it leads people to believe that I am their best friend, which I use to my advantage.