Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Perchance to Dream (COMPLETE)	By : Khaleesi-Of-Dragons Category: S through Z > Sweeney Todd (Movie Only) > Sweeney Todd (Movie Only) Views: 1304 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Any and all songs used belong to their respective owners.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Elizabeth was slow to wake the next morning, the bed beneath her softer than any she's ever slept in before and she wasn't in a hurry to leave it before she had to. In fact, she only opened her eyes because of the sunlight filtering in through the window and onto her face. Scrunching her nose, she rolls onto her back and squints up at the ceiling above her head. There were no rodents or sickness here, not in a fine home like this one. Slowly, Elizabeth sits up in the bed, using the sheets to cover her body while she hunts around the room for her clothes. It wasn't long after she'd pulled her chemise over her head and was working on her corset when the door to the bedroom opened to reveal a rather disappointed-looking Beadle Bamford.
"The Judge said to see you out the back way," he informs her, watching intently as she continues to get dressed in the clothes she came there in last night.
"Why'd he let me stay," she asks, turning to face the rat when she had finished dressing. Bamford shrugs a shoulder, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he turns to lead the way downstairs. Elizabeth follows behind him at a languid pace, taking in all of the rich furnishings she never had a chance to see on the nights she was called for, the portraits of Edmund Turpin's ancestors staring down at her with sneers and loathing. It's not my fault your descendant is sick in his head, she thinks as she turns her face away from the paintings. Beadle and Elizabeth come to a stop just outside the study, Turpin and a young boy sending them a look before facing each other once more.
"A sailor," Turpin asks, seemingly continuing on from before they were interrupted.
"Yes, sir," the teen nods, accepting the small glass of alcohol from Turpin. There's no telling what's in there, Elizabeth herself had accepted a drink from the Judge on her first night in coming here and awoke hours later outside, covered in scrapes and bruises. "The Bountiful, out of Plymouth." The boy's voice is soft, hinting towards shyness or fear of the man in front of him. Elizabeth would have bet everything she owns that it was the latter.
"A sailor must know the ways of the world, yes?" Turpin turns and walks over to one of the bookcases that line the left wall of the study. "Must be practiced in the ways of the world. Would you say you're practiced, boy?"
"Sir?"
"Oh, yes. Such practices." The Judge runs his fingers across the spines of the books, books which Elizabeth knew contained strange acts one can perform in bed, acts which Turpin has studied for so many years that he had them memorized. Most were uncomfortable for the women involved, but Turpin seemed to love hurting the weaker sex, it made him feel stronger. "The geishas of Japan, the concubines of Siam, the catamites of Greece, the harlots of India." The whores of London. He looks at the boy again, gray eyes flicking towards Elizabeth for a moment before returning to the boy. "I have them all here. Drawings of them. Everything you've ever dreamed of doing with a woman." He pulls one of the books towards him, not yet taking it off the shelf. "Would you like to see?"
"I think there's been some mistake." The book is slid back into its place and Elizabeth tries to take a step back on instinct only to have the Beadle stop her with a hand on her back.
"I think not." He takes a few steps towards the boy, floorboards squeaking under his boots. "You gandered at my ward, Johanna. You gandered at her. Yes, sir, you gandered."
"I meant no harm," the boy says hurriedly, trying to diffuse the quickly escalating situation.
"Your meaning is immaterial." Turpin moves quickly, suddenly leaning over the boy's chair with his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly to keep the boy from fleeing. The sudden motion had Elizabeth jumping, but she doesn't move backwards for fear of what the Beadle might press into her back this time. "Mark me. If I see your face again on this street, you'll rue the day you were born." With a nod in Beadle's direction, Turpin steps away and allows the other man to forcefully remove the boy from the estate. "I have your master's payment, Elizabeth." She doesn't hesitate, already knowing that Turpin wouldn't touch her in broad daylight if he could avoid it. No, she belonged to his night world, the one where he is just another man and not a member of the higher society.
"My master would wish me to thank you, my lord," Elizabeth murmurs, giving a slight nod of her head after he pushes a small purse of money into her hand.
"Well, he would get nothing from me if the girl he sold was any less skilled." He gives Elizabeth a hint of a smile before gesturing with his arm in the direction Beadle and the boy had just went. "I trust I'll see you again soon?"
"Whenever you wish, my lord, as always." Elizabeth hurries out of the room without looking back, stuffing the purse down the front of her dress so that it's less likely to be stolen on the walk back to her master.
"Miss Elizabeth," the Beadle says as she walk past him out the servant's door, closing it once she was outside and he realized she wasn't going to acknowledge him. Elizabeth kneels on the ground next to the boy, his blonde hair hanging in his face as he tries to get up by himself.
"Easy now, dear. He may not look like much, but the Beadle can put a grown man down with that walking stick of his." She rests a hand on the boy's back, gently urging him to lie back down for a moment. "Here, let's wipe that blood off." She pulls out her frayed handkerchief, using it to wipe the crimson off the boy's face.
"Thank you, ma'am," he says, coughing a little in pain. "I'm Anthony Hope." Elizabeth smiles down at him kindly, stuffing the handkerchief back up her sleeve with the though to wash it later.
"And I'm Elizabeth Banner, at least, I think that's my last name." She's had trouble remembering little things like that after a particularly brutal beating in the workhouse, but she was certain, because of the initials on her handkerchief, that her last name started with a B. "Alright, let's see if we can't get you back up on your feet, Mister Hope."
"Please," he says with a grunt as he and Elizabeth struggle to get him back up," call me Anthony." Elizabeth smiles again, dusting off his clothes and giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
"Hopefully I'll see you again, Anthony."

Toby looks up when the door of the carriage opens, his shoulders relaxing when he recognizes the faint cursing as Elizabeth's. For a moment he'd feared it was Pirelli, coming back early in a rage to strike out at Toby or worse. But it's his Elizabeth and he knows he's usually safe while she's around to keep Pirelli's hand at bay. "Toby," she smiles when she finally gets her shoe unstuck and makes it all the way inside the carriage," how was your night?"
"No worse than normal," he shrugs, taking another bite from his breakfast.
"Is that all he gave you, then?" Toby nods, holding out the slice of bread for her to take a bite out of only for her to shake her head. "I'll get us out of here one day and then we'll have good food."
"I know, I know." He's heard this talk since they were bought by Pirelli and he still found it amazing that she could daydream about something so fanciful. "We'll live in a nice house with all the food we can eat." He rolls his eyes, finishing off the bread and sitting back against the wall. Elizabeth sits on the ground next to him, her legs stretched out in front of her and her dark eyes staring ahead of them at nothing. "Did you get the money from that Judge?"
"Mm-hm." she gives a nod, not really paying attention to anything as she pictured what her dream house looks like. She'd explained it to him before, the cheery wallpaper and nice wooden furnishings. Sometimes he heard her talking in her sleep, always going on about some man that she never remembered while awake. He'd asked about it before and all she said was that she remembered a glint of silver in sunlight and the smell of fancy cologne. Maybe he was from her old life; could be the man that gave her that old handkerchief with EB sewn into the corner in bright yellow thread. A half-hour later, the carriage door is opened again and Pirelli marches inside, dressed in his usual garish, peacock blue outfit and top hat. Elizabeth jumps when the door slams shut, standing quickly upon seeing Pirelli and nearly stumbling on the skirts of her dress.
"I trust you were paid well since he kept you all night," Pirelli questions as he sits on his cot in the corner. Elizabeth pulls a small purse out of the bodice of her dress, dropping it into Pirelli's outstretched hand and waiting beside the bed to receive her own payment. "It's certainly heavier than usual." The fake Italian dumps the purse's contents out onto the cot, more there than what they usually make in a month. "I ran into the Beadle earlier on my way back, he carried a compliment from Judge Turpin. I don' know what you're doin' up in that fancy house, but keep doin' it." He stuffs the money into his own purse, throwing the other at Elizabeth to do away with. "Toby, you go out tomorrow mornin' and sell more of the elixir. Know that if you don't sell more than fifteen bottles by the afternoon that I'll beat you bloody."
"Yes, Signor," Toby nods obediently.
"Why are you still standin' there? Go sit down before I make you!" Elizabeth flinches at the harsh tone, sitting back down beside Toby with her head lowered. She should've known better than to expect money for what she did, but he supposed it was part of her fantasy.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Perchance to Dream (COMPLETE)