sabrina. peaky blinders

𝑇𝑒𝑛

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𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑒𝑛: 𝐴 𝑠𝑎𝑑 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦

The rain was heavy against the stained glass of the windows in the Garrison. The rhythmic sound was loud against the thin walls. It matched with the sound a scraping door from the front of the pub.

Sabrina walked to the front of the bar, her broom in hand. She was working alone and the dark nights had always seemed to frighten her. With the wooden stick gripped hard, she peered around the door, watching. She exhaled deeply, upon seeing a familiar face in the door way.

Tommy walked slowly toward the bar, coughing as he threw down his cap to the nearest round table.

"We're closed, Tommy." She stated with a shout, as she finally came to stand behind the bar peering down at him. "You scared me."

"I need a drink." He said, walking up to the bar and grabbing the leftover whiskey, settling down on the table he had claimed.

He was in full view now. His expression was stern yet peaceful, careless yet conflicted. It wasn't a look that she was used to seeing on him, no matter what had happened. His callused hands reached to wipe the hair from his eyes that had been flattened by a mixture of rain and sweat. If anything, he looked ill.

"Should I go?" She asked.

"Pay me with your company." He said with a sigh, as he finally chucked himself onto the seat, his hands finding his face like a magnet. "Where's Harry and Grace?"

"They took the night off." She replied, before rounding the bar and sitting down in front of him. "What's happened Tommy?"

"I just shot my horse." He said bluntly, staring back at her with wide, peering eyes, a trace of a sad smirk on his lips.

"Did he look at you the wrong way?" She said, immediately regretting it straight after.

"No one looks at Thomas Shelby the wrong way." He said seriously, his stare not wavering. He paused, silent, before continuing. "Never got used to seeing a horse die."

His grief held a strong gravity weighing him to the chair. His shoulders sagged and eyelids dropped. Tommy looked up at her expectantly with his brow raised, waiting for the conversation to be changed.

It was a few long minutes before Sabrina could bring herself to speak. "I haven't got a dress."

"Why not?" He attempted to smile back at her.

"A pretty dress doesn't come cheap." She replied, leaning back in her seat.

"Bet Paris taught you that."

"Funny how France told us different things, isn't it." He blinked, gulping down the rest of the whiskey, leaving his hand free to run through his mop of hair, distressed.

"Two pounds." He finally said, but Sabrina cut him off with a smile.

"I want three."

"Alright. Buy a red one." He said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk and raised brow, yet again.

"Why red?"

"It's the only colour I don't dislike." He began, before saying quickly, "It's John's favourite colour."

"You were taught books." He breathed out. "Tell me a story."

"Happy or sad?" She asked.

"Sad." He muttered, a distance look in his glassy eyes.

"Alright." She said, as she glanced down.

"There once was a lion, the fiercest lion of all the land that he roamed freely. The lion had no weaknesses, not one tooth blunter than a sword and not one paw weaker than the strength of a thousand of his kind." She began.

It was a fable that she had learned when she first arrived in Paris. Sabrina didn't know why she had thought of it, it wasn't the saddest of stories that she had read. But she felt, somehow, that it was fitting.

"But one day, the lion happened to lay his old eyes upon a fair maiden, her hair golden and features petite. Like every aspect of his being, his passion for her grew violent."

In the young woman's place, she pictured Grace, her charming smile and gentle characteristics. Sabrina wondered why. What had prompted these pictures?

"The lion's love for the girl lead him to declaring himself to her father, demanding her hand in marriage. Her father recollected, complying, scared to provoke the great lion's rage.  But told him that the marriage would only occur upon certain conditions, considering the girl was young and tender." She continued, glancing up at him as he watched her with careful eyes.

"He must let his teeth be plucked out one by one and his claws cut off, in order not to hurt her, nor frighten her with the appearance of them. Too smitten with the blonde angel, the lion dared not hesitate, but was soon deprived of his teeth and claws. Mercy was placed in the hands of the family and yet when he bowed his head at their knees, they laughed and jeered, for the lion had lost his roar. The father set upon him with his club, beating him hit after the other, until his golden mane was matted with blood. And as the murder was carried out, the young maiden had lost her tenderness, instead laughing at the poor lions as he wheezed his dying breath, lacking a roar."

They sat in silence for a while, Tommy's eyes still glossed over.

"What does it mean?"

"Never let misplaced love blind you." She said, and he smiled nodding his head, letting out a sigh. "They'll break your heart."

He shook his head, staring straight. His voice was nothing more than a whisper. "Already broken."

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The italics are not my own story- it's a fable called the lion in love