A/N 100k views! I'm over the moon, thank you all so much. I'm literally updating this in the middle of a school assembly because I'm so excited! Hope you all enjoy, remember to vote and comment :)

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Evening fell like the first day of January; cold and silent, quiet and unassuming but deadly as a snakes bite. The room I stood in was dark and dismal, swooping ceilings and windows of Brobdingnagian proportions doing little to assuage my feelings of intense claustrophobia. Waves of fear rushed through me constantly, as familiar to me now as my heartbeat.

Compliance was not in my nature; never had been. Being seen and not heard was a foreign concept for me, the idea that I should sit down and shut up. Leaders were not gutless, nor easily controlled, and I was a trailblazer, a pioneer, stubborn and confrontational.

But tonight I sat still at the edge of a king-sized bed, staring out of the window into the eerie darkness, my body still like the oil paintings gathered together on the walls to weep at my unbounded misery.

For once the butler had strode in with an iPad and presented the live stream of Isla asleep on a cold stone floor in the dark, any intention of speaking up died on my lips as quickly as a candle snuffs in the wind. There was nothing I wouldn't do to save that girl.

Then, a rustle. I frowned. Elise and I had been separated, I assumed on different ends of the house, send away to separate chambers. My heart began to thud, panic settling in as I stood up and retreated into the shadows, blowing out the small candle on the nightstand. What little light that had been there vanished, and my eyes steadily adjusted to the dim moonlight as a figure appeared, ghostly and ethereal.

"Elise!" I hissed, running to the woman with tears in my eyes. According to the grandfather clock standing proudly in the corner of the room, visible to me just moments before the candle was extinguished, it had been a considerable amount of hours since I last saw the woman. But my arms wrapped around her like it had been a century.

"My beloved," she whispered forlornly, burying her face in my matted hair, breathing in my scent like it was the first time.

"How did you get in here!?" I exclaimed, pulling back from the hug with intense trepidation. The blonde stood far from the door and had a small, rather intricate candle holder in her hand, from which a small flame burned brightly.

"I lived here for a long time," Elise sighed, speaking in a hushed tone, her eyes darting occasionally from side to side, "One learns how to... escape the frivolous and wholly tedious expectations of married life."

"I'm sure it entailed more than just... frivolity, and dresses and crocheting."

"Perhaps," Elise's eyes darkened, "Perhaps it wasn't all parasols and candelabras. Nevertheless, I found my escapes within the walls. Hidden passages and rooms not yet discovered even now, strange and elfin and most importantly, empty."

"How did you know I would be here?"

Elise let out a short, quiet and abrasive laugh, not mocking but entirely unpleasant all the same, "This is where she always took them."

"What, Josephine? Took who?"

"Emma," she sighed, "I haven't long. We must formulate a plan and find out where my daughter is being held."

"I mean, yeah," I winced, "Obviously, but you can't say something like that and expect me not to want to know what you mean."

"Fine," Elise's eye twitched in a sign of irritation, her voice still low and steady, "This was Josephine's preferred bedroom for... Well, she often had female suitors, and this was the farthest room possible from Arthur. He knew, of course, but indiscretion was always advised and her behaviour has never been entirely approved of."

"And you know this... how?"

Elise blinked, "Women tend to gossip."

"I see," Deciding to brush over her unnatural behaviour, I glanced around the large room, still largely unable to make out its core features in the incessant darkness, "So, essentially, she's shoved me in her weird sex room. Great."

"Emma," Elise winced, "Darling, try not to be so crude. It really is rather uncouth."

"Well, y'know what's uncouth, Elise?"

"What, dear?"

"Kidnapping."

"Oh for goodness' sake-"

"Well, I'm just saying," I held up my hands innocently, "It's not the most refined thing, but that's just my opinion."

"You have been utterly unhelpful as always," Elise huffed, gathering up her skirt, "I shall see you when I am next able to."

"Counting down the seconds," I responded dryly, but as Elise lifted the tapestry hung upon the wall to reveal a small and narrow passageway I stepped forward, "Be safe," I whispered, gently cupping her face in my hands as she looked at me in surprise. Placing a gentle kiss upon her lips, I stepped back so far as to be able to silently weep, hidden by the first layers of darkness not quite touched upon by her candle.

"I love you, Emma," Elise intoned, her voice gentle and laced with a touch of despair.

"I love you too, Elise," I responded sorrowfully, and then she was gone, the tapestry falling back into place almost as if it had never been moved.

The nightstand revealed a small packet of matches, and I took it upon myself to light every stump, every candelabra, every wick I could possibly locate until I stood in the middle of a burning room, shadows dancing fleetingly across my face as I took in my surroundings. A splendid and elaborate bedstead with richly-embroidered hangings and fine linen sheets freshly ironed and prepped although so far all I had seen was a singular butler in this house. Red and gold surrounded me in a sickening and wholly unnecessary display of splendid wealth, the carpet following the theme, stretching along towards a private staircase. It twisted away and out of sight, but on further inspection led to a hidden bathroom in a turret, round walls encapsulating a roll-top bath.

Part of me was furious, furious that I could possibly entertain the idea of all of this luxury when Isla was alone and scared in the dark. But I was miserable, dejected and despondent; my nails were chewed to the skin, my eyes bleary and wide, my lips dry and trembling. The concept of sleep felt strange and half-forgotten, and the nausea of an intense hungover still settled comfortably in my stomach alongside the burning intensity of insatiable hunger. I hadn't eaten all day.

Leaving my clothes on the bed, I ran myself a bath, slipping gently into the water; gentle and warm, just how I liked it. For a moment, I lay back and closed my eyes; I was not here, and I was not in Braemore. Nothing surrounded me except soft, scented water drifting over me like clouds.

I had only been in the bath for ten minutes when a sound travelled up the stairs. My heart began to pound, knowing it was Elise. Stepping out of the bath, I wrapped a towel around my body, my hair dry for there had been no shampoo to wash it with.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, however, I found the very last person I had been expecting.

Leaning languidly against the carved wooden poster of my bed, Josephine regarded me with a sultry stare, a grin spreading across her face as her eyes slowly raked down my body before dragging them back up to where they met my glare.

"How did you get in?" I stammered angrily, pulling the towel as tight as possible, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"I live here, pet," Josephine rolled her eyes lazily, "I used a key."

"Oh," I blinked, "Right, well. Can I help you with anything or can you leave me in peace?"

"Now, why would I leave you in peace," She purred, sauntering forward, "When teasing you is far, far more fun?"

"Well," I frowned, going crosseyed as I watched her reach down to play with a strand of my hair, "That doesn't sound like much fun, I mean, when I think of fun I sort of imagine roller coasters, puppies, maybe nightclubs. You don't really seem like a nightclub girl, though," I rambled nervously, "I get more... underground BDSM club vibes."

Josephine paused, her eyes meeting mine, and she looked rather amused, "Is that so?"

"Er, well," I backtracked, "I didn't mean it quite like that, I just -"

"Hush," Josephine stepped closer, her breath gently tickling my nose as she regarded me once over with a preoccupied expression, "If that's what you think of me, my darling, then that's what you'll get."

--

The room was damp, dark and disappointingly unimpressive.

Perhaps it was rather rash of me to think that my ex-husband's family home had improved it's decor over the years; for he still clashed his Edwardian furniture with his Victorian, and in this bedchamber alone a red-brick fireplace lay next to a green lacquered secretaire cabinet. Even at Christmas, that colour combination was just ghastly.

Everything I looked at was distinctly unimpressive. The attractive Louis XV style rosewood bonheur du jour was utterly ruined by the most unflattering yellow flowered vase, complete with the most egregious flowers evidently chosen by Arthur himself.

However, it would have been a lie if I was to say I was surprised at the tasteless decorations. Arthur seemed to have scorched any evidence of my living here long ago, and with that went any artistic changes I had made. He had even had the hallways returned to their original lime wallpaper, covering up the wonderful alabaster colour I had replaced it with.

Josephine Elderflower's touch lived through the stately home too. The Manor had never been this dark, never been this eerie. Every room I went to was shrouded with a mist of dire helplessness, to a suffocating and wholly unwelcome extent.

The only light in the cesspool of nightmares was Emma. It always had been and it always would be. Never in my life had I ever met someone so utterly disarming in so many ways, be it her sharp wit or kind smile or bright eyes. Everything about the woman was magical, in a way you only really experienced once in a lifetime.

I felt like such a fool, smiling broadly into the murky gloom as I thought of her, so I headed over to the wooden panelled walls to pay Emma a visit once again.

Truth be told, I was feeling rather afraid, and needed the comfort she would always provide. Pressing my ear against the wall as I rapped my knuckle lightly, I shuddered at the contact of my shoulder against the mahogany, still in the black Givenchy dress I had made for me. If I had known now what was going to happen, I would have chosen a far more appropriate outfit, although it was a relief that I had enough bobby pins to style my hair into an updo. Alas, that was not the case, and my bare feet padded against the freezing floor, having slipped off my uncomfortable heels long ago. A panel swung open to reveal a set of steps down which I descended. Rather silly, them separating us by floors; it was quite impudent to assume that I would not find a way to reach my lover even if it involved mild effort on my part.

Reaching Emma's room, I pulled back the tapestry to find a scene that made my heart stop dead in my chest.

Emma. Josephine. A tangle of limbs, hair, a hand stroking a bare thigh. Lustful eyes, biting lips; everything looked blurry as I retreated slowly into the shadows.

"There's just something about you I can't escape, Emma," Josephine salaciously hissed, moving to press her thigh between my partners leg as Emma threw her head back and groaned. My heart wished desperately for it to be an erroneous assumption but my eyes knew the truth, watched the truth unfold right in front of me. My fists clenched so tightly I began to sway, desperate to leave and desperate to stay, to see just how far things would go.

And then Emma dragged a hand slowly up the arm of my ex-husband's sister and unhooked her bra strap, and I knew I had seen enough.

How do you even begin to describe the feeling of being betrayed by the one person you trusted implicitly? My heart pounded painfully as I ran back to my room.

I supposed Emma would know the answer to that question, for she had experienced it no less than twenty years ago, when I left her alone at one of the lowest points in her life. Perhaps this was inevitable; perhaps this was her revenge, perhaps she was stringing me along this whole time only to wait for the climax, for it to all come crashing down and her to reveal she never loved me, never forgave me, that it was all an elaborate plan to deceive me. Perhaps she had been in cahoots with the Elderflowers this entire time.

No. No, that surely wasn't it. Emma was stubborn, headstrong and obstinate but she didn't have a single bad bone in her body and that was what I found so utterly magnetic. Evidently I wasn't the only one drawn to that.

In that moment, as I returned to my dark corner of hell and shut the wooden panel, I lost a piece of me I realised I could never get back. Perhaps it was my last glimmer of hope, or maybe it was my last shred of fear. Either way, a resolve settled in my gut and I knew that I needed to get out of here immediately.

I had lost Emma and I wasn't going to lose Isla too.

Loosening my hair with a shake, I pulled two bobby pins out and began to slowly bend them into a specific shape, cursing as my fingers slowly turned red in pain. I had held off from doing this before, as I had wanted to discuss with Emma what the plan was. Now, though, there was nothing to stop me from searching for my daughter. Bending the first bobby pin near the fulcrum, I stuck it at the bottom of the keyhole, sliding the second, pick-shaped hair grip into the top of the keyhole. I was incredibly lucky that the lock was so old and outdated, for it was easy to push each pin out of the way.

The locking cylinder turned and the door opened with a click and a groan.

I entered the hallway with intense trepidation, terrified and utterly heartbroken.