Chapter Text
Oxfordshire, England, 1587
Chloe could see the white wisps of breath even in the darkness of her room. She’d waken up from a horrible nightmare in which she had lost her head to the axeman. She blamed her father, of course, because he had been vividly describing the beheading of Mary, Queen of Scots, which he had been fortunate enough to witness during his travels.
When he’d described the event during dinner, Chloe’s stomach had roiled, and her mother had been quite right to tell him this was not an appropriate tale to be told in the presence of a five-year old little girl.
Her father had regarded Chloe for a long moment before deciding her mother was right.
Now, sitting at the edge of her bed, still breathing heavily, she too thought her mother had been right. She was about to lay down again when something strange piqued her attention. It sounded like… music.
Her mother sometimes played the harp, but not very well, and this was most assuredly not a harp. Chloe wasn’t sure why, but before she knew it, her little legs were carrying her down the stairs, careful not to wake up her parents or her nanny.
The front door was bolted, and too heavy for little Chloe to open anyway. The reading room window, on the other hand, was easy to unlock. It took some monumental effort, but eventually Chloe landed on the lawn, so focused on the music she still heard that she did not notice her broken nail, her skidded knee, or the fact that her nightgown had gotten caught while climbing through the window, and was now tattered and frayed at the bottom.
The woods had always scared her – even during daytime. Yet, following the music, Chloe marched through the bushes, and was soon surrounded on all sides by trees. She did not know why she kept following the music, or where she was going, and did not even think about how she’d ever get back.
Her feet were dirty and muddied, her once-white nightgown now smudged with greys and browns and greens. Her hair had come loose from her bun, flowing behind her freely, and repeatedly getting caught on thorny branches and brambles.
Still, Chloe walked on, unfazed, following the music further into the forest. Even though she couldn’t see two feet in front of her, Chloe felt like the music was leading her. To where she could not say, but never did she feel like she was lost.
That is, until she reached a clearing in the forest – quite deep in the forest – and the music suddenly ceased. Chloe looked around, as if suddenly waking up from a dream, wondering where she was and why she had come here. She had been vaguely aware of everything she did, yet now it all seemed stupendously silly.
Dangerous, even.
She felt tears prickling at her eyes. She wanted her mommy, her daddy, her nanny. Anyone. She would be lost in these woods forever, eaten by wolves or bears or witches! The first sob had just broken free when something rustled in the tree behind her, startling her into turning around.
There was a woman sitting in the tree, as if it was entirely ordinary for her to be doing so. What was even stranger is that the woman was not wearing a dress, but instead wore a man’s trousers and shirt, yet did not feel self-conscious at all.
“You should not be here,” the woman scowled, looking down at her.
Chloe, for all of her five-year-old bravado, put her hands on her hips and huffed. “I don’t want to be here!” she told the strange woman, who seemed a little younger than her mother, but not much.
“Then why are you here?” the brown-haired stranger asked, making no move to vacate the tree.
“I followed the music,” Chloe answered honestly, because why should she lie to this person?
“The… I see,” the woman hummed, after which she let out a deep, unladylike sigh. “You should not have been able to hear the music, little one.”
“Why?”
“Because it was not meant for you,” came the dismissive response.
“Why?” Chloe asked again.
“Because you’re too young to hear it,” the stranger in the tree tried to explain.
“Why?” Chloe repeated, not understanding any of this.
“Because… Because I say so!” the woman told her, quite meanly.
“I don’t like you,” Chloe decided out loud.
“I’m not particularly fond of you, either,” the woman told her sternly. “Now go on home, little bird,” she told her.
“I…” Chloe felt another sob building inside her. “I don’t know how…” she sniffled, making the woman roll her eyes – Chloe figured this woman never had a mother to teach her how a proper lady should behave – and huff out her breath.
After a long silence, the woman in the tree got to her feet. “Just… follow the music, little bird,” she told little Chloe. The girl was about to tell the strange woman that there was no music to follow when a harsh wind whipped around her, forcing her eyes closed against the stinging sand.
When she opened them again, the woman was gone. Seconds later, the charming melody that had led her here could be heard again, coming from… the direction Chloe had come from.
It seemed to take forever for Chloe to make her way back from where she started. Yet, with the music spurring her on, leading her along the right path, Chloe felt peaceful, and unhurriedly trudged through the dark forest.
She was about to cry out when the music faded away again. She was still in the woods, and there was nothing but darkness around her, and without the music, the woods were scary and dangerous and there were wild animals that could come out to eat her at any moment.
She was about to cry out to the peculiar woman that had told her to follow the music in the first place, when she heard something.
“Chloe! Chloe can you hear me?” Moments later, she heard more voices echoing her name, and then there were lights in the distance, and she cried out in joy, relieved to be back in familiar surroundings.
“Over here! I’ve found her!” someone called, stomping towards her and easily lifting her small frame out of the mud. “Are you okay, little Miss Beale?”
She barely managed a nod, watching her father running towards her. He looked happy to see her, but he also looked livid.
When they reached their home, Chloe had thought up an elaborate cover story, about a man with a scar, who had taken her from her room and tossed her through the window of the reading room, dragging her off into the forest while he muttered to himself about Lord Beale and all his evil schemes.
Lord Beale had no reason to doubt his little girl, and the men of the village sought for days, wanting revenge on the man that had taken the Lord’s daughter from her room so audaciously. A passing vagrant was eventually found guilty, and everyone forgot about it again soon.
A few weeks later, Chloe too had forgotten all about the incident in the woods. She wouldn’t remember the woman for years to come, and if she sometimes heard a faintly familiar tune in her sleep, that was easily written off to piano lessons and choir practices.
--
Oxfordshire, England, 1607
Staring at the beautiful white dress, resting on the mannequin in the corner of her bedroom, Chloe wanted nothing more than to burn it to cinders. She detested the dress, and everything it represented. She had always wanted to marry, but never like this.
Certainly, Thomas – Tom for his friends – was a good match. He stood to inherit his father’s printing empire, and a sizeable fortune with it. He was good-looking, polite, and the kind of sophisticated you only found amongst high-society.
Chloe hated him with as much passion as she was supposed to love him.
They’d met three times, during which he had given no indication of being interested in anything other than her looks, and her ability to provide him with offspring. He made her skin crawl when, during a stroll in her father’s gardens, he’d made a grab for her backside, impeded as he was by her skirts.
And next week, she was to marry the man.
She was startled when she realized she was humming a long-familiar tune under her breath. Afraid of waking her parents, she silenced herself, idly wondering where the melody had come from. She couldn’t recall having played anything of the sort on the piano in the music room as of late, nor was it one of the songs church choir had performed.
She was so focused on the riddle, it took her a while to realize the haunting melody hadn’t stopped, even though she herself was now quiet. It sounded like it came from outside, a majestic combination of flute, piano, and something she could not quite place.
Pushing the curtain aside a smidge, she looked out to find the lawn empty. For a moment, she had thought Thomas might be serenading her – which was as humorous a thought as marrying him was a revolting one.
Yet the music did not let up, leading her to open her window. The melody did not grow any louder when she did, which was odd. It sounded like it came from right in front of her, yet at the same time it seemed to have traveled across such a vast distance, Chloe could not even fathom its age.
She only realized she was standing outside when she pushed the front door closed behind her. She shivered in the cool night air. Even in summer, nights were not warm enough for her to be traipsing around in her nightgown, barefoot as she was.
Feeling the grass and sand between her toes, she crossed the lawn swiftly, easily jumping over the fence her father had placed sometime during her childhood. She vaguely recalled there had been some incident, back then. People told her she’d been taken, and though she could not remember anything of the sort, it always rubbed her the wrong way when the story was told.
Her bonnet caught on a low-hanging tree, ending up in a muddy pool behind her. Chloe continued on unfazed, barely taking the time to wipe her fiery red hair from her face. With every step she took, deeper into the forest, she felt her mind becoming clearer.
After five minutes of walking, now quite deeper in the forest than she thought she had ever been, she started remembering a night similar to this one, so very, very long ago. She hadn’t been taken, she now knew. She’d set off into the forest of her own accord. Following the music, the same music she was following now.
She also remembered making up the story about the man who took her, her father believing her implicitly, and the innocent man that had been sentenced for the crime she had made up.
Anything that happened in between entering the forest, and exiting it, however, was still foggy.
Reaching a clearing, Chloe stopped dead in her tracks, looking up at the moon above, clear and bright, wondering what in tarnation she was doing in the middle of a god-forsaken forest far past midnight.
“Hello, little bird,” an amused voice sounded from behind her, and instantly, Chloe recalled the stranger she had met before. Surely enough, turning around, she found the same brunette, looking exactly the same as she had twenty years ago, sitting in the tree. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she smiled down at her.
Mirroring her actions from twenty years ago unknowingly, Chloe put her hands on her hips. “I thought you didn’t like me?” she questioned, eyes narrowed.
The woman shrugged. “You were a little whiny, that much is true.”
“I was five,” Chloe responded indignantly.
“Which is why you weren’t supposed to be here, then,” the woman in the tree nodded solemnly. “You’re much less whiny now.”
“I should hope so,” Chloe scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Who are you, anyway?”
The woman pursed her lips, seeming in thought for a moment. “That… is a very complicated question. Can’t we start off with something simpler?”
“What am I doing here?” Chloe tried.
“Well, you sure know how to pick them,” the brunette smirked – actually smirked – at her.
“Okay, how about this… Were you making the music that led me here?”
“Yes,” the brunette answered immediately. “Though I wasn’t certain it would lead you here.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s complicated,” the woman said again. “Music… serves a purpose. It’s not just entertainment, but something far more… primal. The fact you heard my song, and followed it here… it means something.”
Chloe sighed, rolling her eyes – a habit she now finally knew the origins of – figuring there was not much use for ladylike mannerisms in the middle of the forest. “I repeat, what does that even mean?!”
“I’m not entirely certain,” the woman admitted, looking as perplexed by that as Chloe felt. “I was very surprised when you showed up here, twenty years ago. Today, strangely enough, not so much. I had a feeling we’d see each other again, little bird.”
Chloe looked the woman up and down. “I’m pretty sure I’m taller than you are,” she muttered dryly. “Why didn’t you grow?”
“Excuse me?” the woman in the three asked, clearly affronted.
“I just mean- You look exactly how I remember you.”
The woman rolled her eyes at Chloe, as if it was a really dumb question. The redhead was fairly certain it wasn’t, though. “Yeah, well, it’s only been twenty years,” she murmured from on high. Looking down again, her smile morphed into something sly. “You’ve changed plenty, though.”
“Yes, it has been twenty years,” Chloe quipped back, smiling as the woman laughed freely. “Still don’t know why I’m here, though?”
The woman got up, standing on the branch, which didn’t even seem to be weighed down by the person. “Well, I’ve been playing my song steadily for the past fifteen years. As to why you’ve heard it tonight-“
“I heard it before,” Chloe interrupted, realizing that strange melody had lingered in the back of her mind for as long as she could remember. She’d heard it, before, in the minutes after waking up, or right before going to bed. “I just thought I had imagined it.”
“Like I was saying,” the woman smirked down at her. “As to why you’ve heard it tonight, and came out here… I can only guess this is a… Hm… a crossroads of sorts.”
“I… don’t understand,” Chloe admitted, watching the woman’s smirk turn into a more genuine smile.
“Tell me, little bird, is there something happening in your life at the moment? Something big, something you’re maybe not happy about?”
Chloe’s mind flashed to the dress in her bedroom, the impending wedding, Thomas and his grabby hands.
“Now that is the look of a woman needing help,” the brunette smiled gently.
She might have considered it strange, this sudden urge to unload on this woman, who had apparently been sitting in that tree for twenty years. Might have, had she not been forced to bottle her feelings up, push it all down lest a wrong word slip past her lips and upset her parents, who had worked so hard for this union, and who wanted it to be so.
“I am to be married next week,” Chloe huffed.
“Congratulations?” the brunette offered meekly.
“No!” Chloe practically yelled. “He is a swine. He leers at every woman he comes across, always peering down my bosom when he thinks I am not paying attention. He touches me inappropriately, drinks too much, eats like a hog, freely talks of other women when spending time with me! He is positively horrid!”
“Sounds like it,” the woman in the tree nodded. “Although I can’t blame him ogling you, or getting handsy. You are a very fine-“
“Do not even finish that sentence, or I will climb that tree and kick you out of it,” Chloe warned.
“Feisty,” the other woman laughed. “But I would never condone such behaviour. I take it your parents arranged this union?”
Chloe merely nodded, uncertain as to why she was even speaking of this.
The woman standing on the tree branch was silent for a long time, fiddling with a silver ring on her finger, before pulling it from her digit. “Catch,” she said, throwing the piece of jewellery down.
Chloe did catch it, finding it to be a silver ring, with a small pitch-black stone set in its centre. It looked positively ancient. “I know now why you came here tonight,” the woman told her, forcing Chloe’s attention back to her. “There are two paths open to you from here on out. Either you go about your life, marry the man of your nightmares, and live your life the way it is supposed to be lived…”
“Or?” Chloe asked, hesitantly.
“Or, you wear my ring,” the brunette responded, sounding as hesitant as Chloe. “In which case your marriage will not come to pass. Whatever is in store for you in the future, should you choose this path, I cannot say. Time will tell.”
Chloe looked back down at the ring, weighing her options. Anything had to be better than marrying Thomas, she figured, but this was some strange scene she found herself in. “How will your ring make a difference?”
“It just will,” the shorter woman told her, awkwardly shuffling her foot over the tree’s bark.
“You’re… you’re not human, are you?” Chloe asked, already knowing the answer, even though it was completely absurd.
In the blink of an eye, the woman was gone, and Chloe instinctively knew her to be standing behind her. Turning around confirmed this, the woman standing about three feet away, now level with Chloe. “Told you I was taller,” she smiled.
“Whatever,” the smaller woman scoffed. “I’m older. Much, much older.”
“I figured as much,” Chloe nodded with a sigh. “So not human, then.”
“Not human,” the other woman confirmed solemnly.
Fiddling with the ring in her hands, Chloe considered everything she’d learned tonight. “Before I make a decision… Can you at least tell me your name?”
The brunette smiled, taking a wavering step towards her. “Beca.”
“Beca,” Chloe repeated. “Well then, Beca,” she continued, before slipping the ring over her finger. “I hope you know what you’re talking about.”
--
The following morning, Chloe remembered everything vividly. She was still coming to terms with everything that had transpired when she and her parents noticed the commotion on the square ahead of them.
They found a crowd of angry villagers, jeering and yelling at Chloe’s fiancée, who sported a bruised eye, as well as several missing teeth and a bloodied nose. “Whatever is going on here!?” Lord Beale barked, drawing everyone’s attention to them. “Thomas, boy, who did this?”
“That would be me, Jonathan,” the church leader muttered, stepping forward with a bandaged hand. “After I found that boy with his head under my wife’s skirts this morning.”
Chloe gasped in shock, because even she had not expected such behaviour from the man she was supposed to marry. Her shock grew far greater, though, when her father too took a swing at the man, hitting him straight across the face. “I cannot believe we let you near our daughter,” he spat. “Come, Chloe, we will find you a more suitable match.”
Following her parents demurely, Chloe could not help the gentle smile overtaking her features as she twisted the ring on her finger a few times.
“Thank you, Beca,” she whispered to herself.