Chapter Text
The fanfiction you are just about to read is incredibly upsetting and disturbing for any and all audiences. I suggest turning back and choosing another story to read, one where orphans get to live happily ever after or reunite with their parents because this fanfiction will not include any of this.
The use of the word fanfiction in this context is misleading. Mostly due to the word fiction, which means it isn't real. But this very story is very much based off of a real story, which happened to real orphans in a real mansion.
This story begins with the Baudelaire children doing something no children their age should do, which is operating a vehicle without a permit. Especially a firetruck. And especially since Sunny Baudelaire, the youngest of the three, who also appeared to be a toddler at the time, was the one conducting the truck.
They’d been on the road for far too long now, escaping a vile village of foul devotees who had mistakenly framed them as murderers, which they were not, thank you very much.
“We’ve been driving for far too long, and we haven't seen a single building in sight.” Said Klaus as he looked out the window, trying to see if there was any hint of life in sight.
“No, we haven't. And the firetruck is running out of fuel. I can’t possibly invent a way for the truck to keep going with nothing nearby!” Violet said, staring at the dashboard of the car where the fuel meter was at its very last bar.
Klaus also turned and looked at the dashboard, before looking at his older sister, worried. “Well what can we do? We can’t possibly go out there and walk, we’ll die of dehydration!” He exclaimed.
“Way!” Sunny Baudelaire, the driver of the truck answered. And before Violet and Klaus could fully understand that she had meant “Look, there's a paved road over here,” Sunny had already turned the steering wheel so violently that Klaus and Violet went flying towards the window.
The two older Baudelaires sat back up, Violet pushing hair out of her face and Klaus readjusting his glasses. “Just because there’s a path, doesn't mean it's going to lead somewhere. It could be a dead end.” He pointed out.
“Or, with any luck, we could find somewhere safe to stay. Let's just hope something happens before the truck stops.” Violet said, biting her bottom lip worriedly.
When so many things went wrong again and again, it was hard to have hope. It was hard for the Baudelaires to have hope on finding a place to settle down for a while. To be somewhere with a guardian that wouldn't be murdered. Or to escape Count Olaf once and for all. But Violet Baudelaire still had hope that their luck could turn around, even if every other possibility worried her.
They continued to push the truck to its limit, but as the students of Prufrock Preparatory School would say, a dead horse cannot be beat. Though in this context, the expression is meant in a way that the horse, who is dead, cannot be pushed any further. And thus, the truck inevitably ran out of fuel.
The Baudelaire siblings all looked at each other, as though they were silently asking each other “What now? What do we do now that our way to escape has no fuel? What do we do now that we’re in the middle of nowhere, with no water or food?”
Violet then looked up, squinted, and pointed to something in the horizon. “Look, it's a building, I think.”
Klaus’ eyes squinted behind his glasses to get a better look at what Violet was pointing too. “I hope so. And I hope there's people in there.”
“Yes, people that didn't read the daily punctilio yet. We have to go and see.” Violet agreed.
The three children left the truck and did what no children their age and unsupervised should do, which is seek out buildings that they do not know. Especially when you are in the middle of nowhere and have very little resources.
There once was a time where I was in the middle of nowhere, stranded, with little to no resources. But of course, I will not talk about it. This is not my story. Do I look like Lemony Snicket to you?
“We’ve been driving for far too long, and now it feels like we’ve been walking since forever.” Klaus said, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.
Violet, who was carrying Sunny in her arms, did the same. “It only seems that way because we move much slower on foot than on wheels. But we’ll be there soon, I can feel it.”
The moment they had approached the building, however, something made them stop in their tracks and they hesitated to keep going.
The building itself was a wonderful mansion, tall and grand and gated. It was the kind of mansion that the Baudelaires would find on their street back when their own home hadn't been burnt to a crisp and neither had their parents. It was the kind of mansion Esme Squalor, Count Olaf’s terrible girlfriend, would have raved about being ‘in’.
The thing that had made them hesitant to continue wasn't the fact that this grand mansion happened to be in the middle of a desert. It was the big eye that decorated the top of the gate doors, an eye they had seen before on Count Olaf’s ankle. The eye they had also seen on Jacques Snicket’s ankle.
“Uh oh.” Sunny said, staring up at the eye warily, which here meant as though she was afraid the eye would jump out and bite her.
“Uh oh is right, Sunny. That's the same eye on Count Olaf’s ankle. What if this is his summer home?” Violet said to her siblings. Though she could hardly believe that this could be Count Olaf’s summer home as she had been in Count Olaf’s regular home before. It had been terrible, dirty, and nowhere near as wonderful as this mansion.
Klaus, however, took a step closer, analyzing the gate. “That eye doesn't necessarily mean something bad… Remember Jacques Snicket? He also had a tattoo like it on his ankle, and he was trying to help us.” He said."
“Well how would we know if this is a good eye or a bad eye?” Asked Violet.
“Well…” Klaus said, looking at the gate. He then traced a line in the golden pattern of the gate, an ‘S’ to be precise. “If I’m not wrong, this might be the kind of eye that we want.” He said, retracing the line for his sister's to see.
Kkaus then attempted to push the gate open, but it remained still, not budging a bit. “Locked.”
“Buzz.” Sunny then said, which her siblings understood as “Look at that doorbell there.” And before her siblings could think too hard about it, she leaned out as far as she could while in Violet’s arms and pressed the doorbell.
A short buzzing sound came from the speaker, before a voice spoke up. “…Yes..?”
The three siblings looked at one another, not knowing what to reply. And knowing that there could be not much time until the person inside the house decided to leave, they had to think of something quick.
Klaus stepped up to what he assumed was the microphone and spoke. “Uhm… The world is quiet here.”
It was quiet on the other side, and finally a click told the children that the gate had been unlocked. Not wanting to dwell too much on what had just happened, the three young, unsupervised Baudelaire children walked past the gate, closing it behind them.
“I hope whoever’s inside that house is willing to let us stay while we figure out what to do next.” Violet said as they walked towards the mansion.
“And that they’re on our side.” Added Klaus.
“If they’re with V.F.D, they must be.” She said.
The path towards the house wasn't too long, unlike the path from Josephine Anwhistle’s home to the bottom of the mountain, or unlike the long staircase from the lobby to the penthouse of 667 Dark Avenue. It was short, and easy to get to what they hoped to be a temporary home.
The door opened before any of the Baudelaire children could. One the other side of the door was a young woman with long brown hair that reached past her back. She wore a lilac dress, layered with a lacey purple cardigan and with a bunch of jewels and bangles to accessorize.
If you’ve ever met anyone in your life, you know that meeting a stranger means seeing their features for the first time and finding them unfamiliar. If you have not, please let me know how comfortable one can be while living under a rock.
But this one stranger, the Baudelaires found, had a certain familiarity to her. Her eyes were a particular shade of grey that, in the right light, had a certain, unpleasant glint to them. So much that the Baudelaires wanted to ask to see her left ankle.
But, when meeting a stranger, you do not ask for them to show you their body, that would he inappropriate. You ask “What is your name?” or “How do you do?” or perhaps you introduce yourself, which is what Violet Baudelaire did.
“How do you do? My name is Violet Baudelaire and these are my siblings, Klaus and Sunny.” The eldest Baudelaire said. “We’ve been framed for a terrible murder and we need a place to lay low for a few days.”
The woman looked at them, her eyes wide with recognition, and some disbelief. “The Baudelaires?” She asked, taking the time to look at each and every one of them. “Right. My name is Meadow Snicket. It's very nice to meet you. Please, come in.” She said, moving to the side to let the children in.
But the children did not move. They only stared at her, then at each other. “Snicket? As in Jacques Snicket?” Klaus asked, looking back at her.
Meadow nodded. “Yes, my uncle. I’m surprised you know of him, he’s been busy with his taxi-driving business.” She said enthusiastically.
The Baudelaire children stared at each other once again. They were debating the obvious, which in this case meant that they wondered if it was in their best interest to tell this woman that her uncle was dead, and that they had been falsely accused of murdering him.
For the moment, they all decided to say nothing and entered the home.
They were lead further into the house and the Baudelaire children took the time to look around. Because for once, they knew that they had time before Olaf would ever find them. Before Olaf and his terrible troupe would figure out the twists and turns and roads that Sunny had driven on to lead them here.
The house was relatively clean. Mirrors and portraits lined the walls, most of them portraits of the woman that lead them through her home along with people they did not recognize. It all seemed homey, but also as though everything was placed there for a reason.
“Don’t worry Baudelaires, as long as you’re in this home, you’ll be safe.” Meadow said, looking back at them all while walking.
As though she could sense that the Baudelaires have heard those words far too many times before, and that those words had been proven wrong, she spoke again. “This house is far from most civilization. It's a very fortified domain, of the sorts.”
She lead the three children to a grand living room with, what looked to be like a pedestal in the center of the room. It could have competed with Esme Squalor’s living room if it had been more decorated.
The three children sat on the long couch, facing Meadow as she stared at them. “Could I get you something to drink? Something to eat.”
“Uhm- Water please.” Said the oldest Baudelaire.
“Water too, please.” Said the second.
“Carrot.” Said the third.
And with that, Meadow turned around and went to her kitchen, leaving the Baudelaires alone.
“We cannot tell her that Jacques Snicket is dead. If we do, she could believe that we were the ones to kill him.” Klaus whispered to his sisters.
“It seems unbelievable, we did tell her that we were framed for a murder we didn't do.” Violet whispered, looking at the doorway where Meadow had left before looking at her siblings again.
“Many things have happened to us that seem unbelievable, but they happened anyways. Besides, maybe they had a great relationship and she’d be too upset to see reason, people do that.” Klaus countered, holding his hands together.
“Disowned.” Sunny chimed in. Which, in this moment meant: “Or maybe they don’t have a good relationship and she won’t he too upset.”
Violet sighed, shaking her head. “No, Klaus is right. Perhaps we shouldn't say anything right now.”
Just as the Baudelaires had come to a conclusion, the door to the mansion opened. The three orphans froze, could it have been Count Olaf, having found them at last? Or the police who were still trying to find them, despite their innocence.
“I’m home.” An unfamiliar voice said from the foyer. “I was just out fighting a fire at the Academy. You wouldn't believe what goes on in this world.”
Meadow came back into the living room, not answering the man, but handing the two older Baudelaires a glass of water and Sunny a carrot. She seemed oblivious to their cautious faces.
The man with the voice finally entered the living room all while talking. “Have you seen the fire truck nearby? I almost thought your father came by to visit.” He then paused, seeing that they had company.
This particular stranger, this time, was completely unfamiliar to the Baudelaire children. He was around Meadow’s age, with black shaggy hair, sharp features, and he was wearing a quite fashionable turtleneck and a woollen coat.
“Oh. I didn't know we were having company.” He said, looking from the Baudelaires to Meadow.
Meadow only smiled at him. “Yes! Vane, these are the Baudelaires. They’ll be staying with us for a few days or a few weeks.” She said.
“The Baudelaires?” The man, Vane, said, looking at the Baudelaires once more. “How… Interesting.”