Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My name is Shadow. At least, that's what they all call me.

My real name is my little secret. No one knows it but me. None of my so called 'friends' know what my name is. Hell, none of them have even bothered to asked. I've lived with these people for almost three years now and they haven't bothered to ask me my name. How ignorant can one be?

Noah's Ark Circus.

An enchanting place full of excitement and illusion where death is defied and the itch for danger is satisfied; or rather, a place full of miserable old bastards and temperamental, foul-mouthed whores who can't seem to keep their nose out of your business.

It's my current home; my prison.

That is my life.

I'm an aerialist, you see. The ringleader claims that I'm one of the most popular acts in the whole show. I've never really seen what was so entertaining about my talent. In my opinion, it's quite dull in comparison to the other acts. It could be my appearance that's the most intriguing, I suppose.

I'm thirteen now, with ebony hair that reaches my waist and dull grey eyes that make my pale skin appear even paler. As for my costume, I wear a corseted dress with a billowing hem that reaches mid-thigh and a pair of stockings underneath - to preserve what little modesty I have left. I would prefer the skirt to be longer, but I don't really have the right to complain. I've seen the costumes that the other women wear. Let's just say they don't leave much to the imagination.

Anyway, I digress...

At the current moment in time, the circus is stationed in central London. Tonight is our first of many performances. I'm actually feeling a tad giddy. London is my home town. I was born and raised here, from what I was told. It's a beautiful city, thriving with life, but it's such a shame that I can't remember any of it. Having said that, I can't remember much at all after the incident. All that I know for definite is that, ever since then, I've been employed here. I can't exactly say I'm enjoying it. I want my old life back, whatever it was like. It couldn't be much worse than this, could it?

"Shadow, you're on in thirty!" A quiet voice rasped from my right, to which I nodded.

That was my cue, informing me that I have thirty seconds in order to prepare myself, not that I really need it.

You know, a lot can happen in thirty seconds.

A person can be strangled to death in thirty seconds.

A person, if sliced in the right place, can bleed out in thirty seconds.

A person can be ripped away from the safety of their home, only to never be seen again, in thirty seconds.

Alas, I have only thirty seconds, and I don't intend on wasting them.

Chapter Text

I peered out from behind the tent entrance as I stretched my muscles in preparation for the lift. There were a considerable amount of people here tonight. The tent was filled to the brim; a large crowd of finely dressed gentry and their accompanying ladies were taking their seats before the show began. I smiled to myself, noting the audience's glamorous appearances and the unmistakable accent that could be heard floating among the gentle murmur.

Ah, London. I've missed this place.

"Oi, Shadow! You ready yet?" I heard from afar.

I turned my head to take in the small form of Doll - the tightrope walker and the circus' crowning jewel - standing above me with a look of impatience on her face. Nodding my head, I pulled myself to my feet and took a few deep breaths, keeping my ear pinned for my cue. Despite my confidence, I was always a tad nervous before I performed. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy it; no, it was quite the opposite actually. I adored the thrill that performing gave me; the sense of pride and accomplishment when the audience's applause filled my ears; the weightless sensation as I glided through the air, feeling as free as a bird. I truly couldn't survive in this world without it, but regardless, the nerves constantly chewed away at me whenever I was forced to wait backstage. This time was no different.

"Shadow, you're on!"

Upon hearing my cue, I slipped out from behind the curtains, hiding myself in the shadows of the stage so I wouldn't tear the audience's focus away from Joker - who was still addressing the crowd by this point. My hands searched blindly for the strip of silk that I sought, until my fingertips brushed against the sleek material. Grabbing it firmly with both hands, I hoisted myself up, entwining my leg within to ensure that I wouldn't fall loose. Giving the sash a hearty tug to inform the stagehands I was secure, I felt myself being pulled off the ground, slowly and steadily. My body wobbled, but I found my balance almost instantly, this procedure being second nature to me. My ascent upwards slowed and eventually drew to a halt, and I was left suspended a good few feet off the ground. My stomach churned, and I risked a glance down to see my fellow performers dash onstage and fall in line with our ringleader, Joker. As the lights flashed on, illuminating our arena, I threw my head up, offering the most charming grin that I could muster. The audience clapped politely, likely eager to see the night's main events, and gentle accordion music began to play to set the atmosphere.

"And now," Joker began, dipping his voice low to entice our observers, "With a great broze from our fire breather, the show of the century shall begin!"

He gestured behind him as our beloved fire breather - fondly named Jumbo - appeared and took the stage by storm. Jumbo was a tall fellow - much taller than the average man - with a very sturdy frame. Muscle rippled from under his skin and this only made him appear all the more menacing, especially considering his fiery profession. Although, behind his frightening facade, he was really a gentle giant and everyone adored him - myself included.

With the audience's eyes trained on Jumbo and his great flurry of fire, I felt myself being lowered back to the safety of the tent floor. As the great inferno began to die out, I disentangled myself from the silk and slithered back behind stage so that Peter and Wendy could begin their routine.

Peter and Wendy were pestilent little beasts that existed solely to irritate everyone they deemed to be unworthy of their friendship. They were quite literally the devil's helpers and I avoided them like the plague. Given, I didn't hate them (it's too strong of a word) but they were undoubtedly my least favourite people at the circus; always creating havoc and sticking their noses where it really wasn't wanted. They were so grimly critical and always had something crude to say, more so to me than the others. Secretly, I think they knew how much they got on my nerves and taunted me anyway.

Brats.

The two separated and stood on either platform up in the rafters. Peter sat on his trapeze while Wendy hung from hers, swinging back and forth in perfect time. Despite how much I despised the pair, I would admit, they were quite talented.

In preparation for the next act, a small wheel was positioned centre stage, being handled by two brightly dressed ladies. One of our second-tier girls was brought onstage and tied down by all four limbs, spread in a seemingly uncomfortable position, and an apple was poised just above the crest of her head. This girl was one of those who had an unfortunately skimpy costume, appearing from afar as though she was only wearing lingerie.

By this point, I'd become accustomed to seeing scantily clad women in suggestive positions so, unlike my younger self, I was no longer shocked or revolted. That being said, I can't even imagine how scandalous this must be for the upper class members of the audience who daren't show the skin above their ankle. Nonetheless, the act made up for it. In spite of how risqué it may appear, the performance was always breathtaking in the greatest of ways. 

A handful of sharp knives were thrown at the wheel as it spun, missing the girl's skin by mere inches, drawing a collective gasp from the audience's lips. This was arguably the most dangerous act in the entire show. It made even me shudder at certain moments, and I'd seen this act be performed successfully hundreds of times. It was always fine. Dagger was a professional.

Our knife thrower, who'd been ironically named after the weapons he tossed, was a small man with a deadly aim. I'd never seen him do it in person, but Doll claimed that he could hit the bullseye of a target from up to twenty feet away. Personally I didn't believe her, but who was I to call her a liar? Like Jumbo, Dagger was another person who I could find myself getting along quite well with. He was cheeky and often made a hobby of teasing the cast's younger members. Even so, he was a friendly man with a great sense of humour - only when you weren't on the receiving end of one of his pranks.

Said man then threw the final knife to pierce the apple, which sat tantalisingly close to the girl's skull, before turning his head to face his audience. Being the charmer that he was, he flashed them a riveting wink before turning back and continued throwing the rest of the knives. The audience gasped and cheered in awe, watching wide-eyed with scarcely concealed amazement. I clapped along with them, however, my mind was elsewhere. Feeling a sense of giddiness strike me, I grinned, eagerly anticipating what was yet to come.

As the next act began, the lights dimmed and crowd fell silent, leaning forward in their seats with a sense of intrigue. In the darkness, all that could be heard was the sound of soft, melodious music and a low hissing. Mist flooded the stage and cast a green hue across the tent, making the performance all the more enthralling to watch.

Serpents coiled and slithered around the lithe form of our snake charmer as he stood, wearing nothing but a long green cloth around his nether regions. The creatures clung to his limbs, their coarse scales brushing against his tender skin, forked tongues flicking out to lick at the air before being retracted into a fanged maw. They curled and unfurled themselves, hissing in the direction of the crowd, rendering them speechless. Much like myself, the audience could do little more but gawk at his entrancing performance, even though my reason for staring was very different to theirs.

My sinful eyes wandered shamelessly across the man's exposed chest and I felt my cheeks heat up with shame. Even though I knew it was very indecent of me to be gawking at a partially nude man in the way I was, I just couldn't help myself. Fanning my face, I quickly banished all unholy thoughts, and prayed that no one noticed me leering. I was only thirteen, for Heaven's sake! Just how lecherous could I be?

Snake, like Dagger, was named after the creatures he so adored. He was really rather fascinating. He kept to himself most of the time; preferring the companionship of his snakes over humans. To say his behaviour was odd would be an understatement; he was queer, but he was interesting. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to call him a friend, seeing as he was hardly ever around to interact with, and holding a conversation with him was a rarity in itself - never mind frequent friendly exchanges. However, I could tolerate him, and I knew he could tolerate me (mostly because I respected his isolation and didn't bother to pester him). In fact, on one occasion, he'd willingly approached me with the news that one of his snakes had complimented my hair, before walking away and not speaking to me for the rest of that day. It was somewhat flattering.

Part of me still wasn't sure if he actually could speak to his snakes or whether he was just voicing his own thoughts whilst using them as a scapegoat should his opinion be rejected. Either way, there's no denying that he is genuinely gifted.

"And next, look above ye, ladies and gents! A death-defying tightrope walk by the circus princess, Doll!"

My allocated time slot was drawing very close and I took what little time I had to stretch out the unused muscles in my arms and legs, strengthening them for the strenuous activity I was soon to subject them to. Whilst doing so, I watched from behind the curtain as my closest friend began to make her way along the tightrope, which hung high above the unforgiving ground. I loathe to think what would happen if she fell.

As that perilous thought crossed my mind, a muscle in my upper leg twitched. I ignored it and chose to stretch it out even further, making myself wince in slight discomfort.

I had fallen once.

It was a bad accident, I'd been told. So bad, in fact, that I cant even recall the incident. Apparently, I'd lost my grip whilst performing and landed on my back, hitting my head - hard, mind you - and awkwardly twisting my right leg. During my recovery (months that I do unfortunately recall), it was agonising to move. The circus' doctor had said I was incredibly lucky. I could have completely shattered the bone from the height I'd fallen from and that would've left me unable to work. After a long and tiresome recovery, I eventually got back to work but that did not mean I was fully healed. Fortunately for me, the bone in my leg had only snapped - difficult to heal, but at least the bone was still functional, which I was immensely grateful for.

Although it had been years since the incident, I was still scarred by what occurred, both physically and mentally. Even though I'm unable to remember the event itself, my body definitely remembers; a muscle memory, so to speak. A twitch here; a spasm there. It serves no purpose other than to remind me of the whole ordeal, and I hate it. This, along with the puckered red scar that skirts down my inner thigh, is the reason why I've become the cynical person I am today.

I shook my head with a sigh, knowing it'd do me know good to rile myself up now, and glanced back at the young girl who now balanced on the rope. She raised her left leg high and bent it slightly at the knee. Lowering herself into the split position, Doll spread her arms at either side of her body to steady herself. Then, in one fluid movement, she bent her body back, gripped the rope and pushed her body up into a handstand. I allowed a little smirk to tug at my lips.

Doll was good. Exceptionally good. I was proud of her.

The crowd seemed to agree too by the volume of their applause, with some even giving her a standing ovation.

As Doll finished her routine and exited the stage, giving me a hearty slap on the back and wishing me luck as she passed, I stood and dusted off my skirts, checking myself for any noticeable flaws in my appearance.

I waited patiently for them to set up my apparatus, brushing off any lasting worries and mentally preparing myself. On my cue, I made my way on to centre stage and, once more, wrapped one leg and one arm around the stand of silk. The stagehands pulled me up so I was a lot higher than I was before - level to the rafters. With one last wary glance towards the ground, I began my routine.

Joker then began to introduce me, an amused tone to his voice. "And now, Ladies and Gents, an exhilarating performance from our aerialist. With moves so sudden and so precise, thee'll find thee'selves wondering whether this beauty is actually human!"

He laughed at his own joke and honestly, if I hadn't been so focused on my balance, I would've rolled my eyes. How hackneyed. 

Paying no mind to Joker or whatever was happening below me, I put all my focus on my act, swinging my body this way and swaying it that way, enjoying the thrill of it all. Adrenaline coursed through me and I proceeded to pour my heart and soul into my routine. This was my home town. These were my people. Being in London was the closest I'd ever be to finding a sense of belonging and I was determined to make the most of it. I gave it my everything.

Coming to the end of my time slot, I finished my act as smoothly as I could, part of me not wanting it to end. I was lowered slowly to the ground, at which point I turned to the audience and took my bow, basking in the applause they gave me. Smiling, I made my way offstage and slipped behind the curtain, heading over to Doll. She gave me a cheery thumbs up and a pat on the back as I sat beside her, soothing my sore muscles and wiping the sweat from my forehead. We both looked towards the stagehands, who were now dismantling my silk and setting up for the next act. We only had one act left to go.

Beast.

"Last but not least, the star of our troupe!" Joker said as our tiger, Betty, bounded across the stage and leapt through a ring of fire, following a sharp lash of the whip on the floor.

Once again, I was watching from behind the curtain with a small frown on my face. I didn't particularly like this act. It wasn't because it was necessarily bad but rather I hated it for its discrimination (some may say abuse) against the animals we kept here. But, having nothing better to do, I sat and watched.

Betty then let out a booming roar and laid submissively at her trainer's feet.

"I bring 'ee the famous tamer of wild cats - Beast!"

Placing her prosthesis leg onto Betty's back, Beast raised her head high as the crowd applauded her. My frown deepened. Beast wasn't my favourite person at the circus. In fact, I would say I hated her if the word itself wasn't so strong. She was always so uptight about everything; playing the part of a snobby primadonna. Beast was also very defensive, being known to overreact in various situations, which often resulted in a few minor injuries. The fact she always carries around a whip makes this prospect scarier and that's why we all try so hard to not piss her off. That's easier said than done though. She's a very sensitive woman and far too easily offended. Fortunately for me, I've never been on the end of that whip.

"We'd love some audience participation for this act. Are there any volunteers?" Joker asked, glancing around at the audience, who all seemed a tad unsure.

I peered my head more around the edge of the curtain to get a better look at which brave soul would actually volunteer to perform in an act containing a wild animal. No one budged at first but, after a few more bouts of encouragement from Joker, a tall man dressed in a black tailcoat stood. Looking the man up and down, I cocked a brow.

A gentry? He certainly wears the clothes of one. No, never mind. That's a butler. I've seen far too many of those blasted tails and ties to be able to tell the difference between a master and his servant.

"Oh, what's this? This gent in the tailcoat sure looks eager!" Joker pointed out as he gestured for the man to come forward with his prosthetic hand. "Please come on stage, sir!"

The audience clapped for his courage and I joined in. I didn't think anyone would actually dare. Londoners really are cowards; too afraid of getting dirt on their blazers or their petticoats!

Seemingly encouraged by the crowd's enthusiasm, the man stepped forward and made his way toward the stage, deftly stepping over the barriers that were positioned between us and the audience with those long legs of his

"Now, if you'll just lie down here--" Joker was abruptly cut off as the man completely blanked him and stepped past him, headed towards Betty.

I furrowed my brows slightly. What exactly was he was doing?

From my angle, I could see him better now. Yes, he was definitely a butler, judging by the gloves on his hands and the thin chain of a pocket watch that dangled from his waistcoat pocket. He was dressed explicably sharp. I couldn't say the same about his thinking, however.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he waltzed up to Betty - both Joker and Beast did absolutely nothing to stop this, mind you - and knelt down, cupping her face in his hands. I openly gaped, praying that my eyes were deceiving me.

Was he suicidal or just plain stupid? I don't think the imbecile realised that this was a tiger, not some sort of wide-eyed puppy.

"Ah, what lovely round eyes you have! Such soft ears." He praised in a soft tone, a pleasant smile on his face.

The entire audience gasped and I followed suit, cupping a hand over my mouth and shaking my head in utter disbelief.

He must be delusional. Or insane. Perhaps both.

Why is no one stopping this? This was Beast's tiger. Why wasn't she doing anything? Don't just stand there, idiot! I swear, if she doesn't compose herself and control her tiger, I'll get out there and do it myself!

"I've never seen such vivid stripes!" The butler sighed as he stroked Betty's cheeks, causing her to growl lowly. "They're positively adorable!"

I glanced back over to the two on stage. They looked as though they were in a state of catatonic shock. I'm not surprised. I probably looked the same.

Slowly pushing myself up from my sitting position on the floor, I stood to get a better view of the whole scene. The butler went on caressing Betty, inspecting her claws and commenting on how long they had gotten. At this, I couldn't help but release a long, nervous sigh.

Lord have mercy! Did he think this was some kind of domesticated kitten he could pet and pamper to his liking? Yes, Betty was tame, but only to a certain limit. Touching a tiger's face is practically begging for death. They won't tolerate unwanted contact.

This was not going to end well.

It seemed that by the time the man had begun to prod her paws, Betty had had enough, her patience wearing thin. Before anyone could make a move to stop it, she leapt forward onto the man's shoulders, latching her teeth onto his head. The whole audience erupted into screams and even I let out a small cry of surprise. The others around me bustled about, unsure of what to do. I simply stood and stared, not believing what I was seeing.

Well, that's just brilliant! Our first performance here in London and he has to show up and get himself mauled alive on stage! This is terrible for business. I hope there isn't a lot of blood; I don't want to have to clean all that up.

Beast appeared to have finally snapped out of her shock and circled the whip around her head before lashing it out in the direction of the tiger. "Betty, let go of 'im!"

Before the end could make contact, however, the man reached behind him and grabbed the tail of the whip, something that made my breath hitch in my throat.

How was that possible? How can he even move? He should be bleeding out right about now, writhing in agony, screaming until his vocal chords turned raw. His head is trapped in a tiger's jaw, teeth buried into his skull. I hadn't had the unfortunate pleasure of having my head chewed on by Betty but I can guarantee that that isn't as painless as he's making it out to be.

The tail of the whip curled once or twice around the man's outstretched palm and he slowly retracted his head from Betty's maw as she released him.

"She hasn't done anything wrong." He stated calmly, gazing at Betty with amorous eyes as she growled at him, not reciprocating his affections. "I was so overcome by her charm that I behaved rudely, that's all."

Beast's jaw slackened and I followed suit, feeling beyond baffled by the man's behaviour. For a moment, I considered whether I had passed out from exhaustion and was dreaming this whole scenario, but that theory was quickly proven wrong when I pinched my upper arm and flinched.

"Oh and, may I add, indiscriminate whipping isn't enough to train her properly." He said with a small smile, dropping the whip to the floor.

Well, at least he had some sense left in that thick skull of his. He may agree with my views on the treatment of our animals, but that doesn't mean I forgive him for ruining our show.

Beast's reaction was priceless to say the least. Her face flushed in rage as her eyes narrowed into slits. Typically, I would've found her anger amusing but now wasn't really an appropriate time for humour.

As soon as we thought the situation was back in our hands, Betty suddenly jumped up and bit down onto the back of the butler's head once more. The crowd let out another chorus of screams as Beast began spitting useless commands at her tiger - who chose to ignore her. At long last, Joker intervened but didn't help the situation much as he began arguing with Beast, who claimed she couldn't do anything without her whip. This petty argument went on for what seemed like eternity before I sighed and trailed out of the tent, my head hung low in embarrassment. So much for a good show.

After the disasterous fiasco had concluded and the audience had dispersed, I found myself back in my tent, which I shared with Doll. I suppose this is why she's the closest to me here. Although we are both first string members, Doll is afraid of sleeping alone and therefore asked me if I wanted to share a room when I first joined. I, being only ten years old and not familiar to my surroundings, said yes and we've been tent mates ever since.

With a long and tired sigh, I began to lazily untie the laces of my boots and slip them off, humming a tune to myself quietly. After both boots had been removed and placed neatly under my bed, I began to unclip my stockings. The left one came off easily enough, and I discarded it haphazardly. However, as I began work on the right stocking, I felt a warm substance coat my hand and I stopped. Confused as to what it was, I held my hand up to my face and was instantly filled with a sense of dread as I stared at the crimson that stained my pale skin.

Oh Hell!

Christ, I hadn't even felt it rip! How long had it been open? A torrent of thoughts flooded my mind, but I didn't waste time pondering on them. I needed to stop the bleeding before it got any worse.

My eyes scanned the room rapidly before I saw what I was looking for - a makeshift bandage! A small fleeting sense of hope rushing through me, I limped over to my bed, deftly applying pressure to the large gash on my thigh. With a bloodied hand, I snatched my nightgown - my only nightgown. It was a big sacrifice but I supposed it wouldn't effect me much. I shared my tent with a girl, and it was Doll - of all people. She was most definitely not prude. It didn't matter if she could see my legs.

Removing my hand off my scar for a brief second, I wasted no time in tearing off the bottom of the nightdress and hastily wrapped it tightly around my upper leg, before running off to find Doc. I hoped for my sake that he was in the infirmary.

As I ran, people looked at me strangely, most likely due to my constant tripping, bare legs and the long white strip of cotton dangling from around my thigh. My heart was beginning to pound and I navigated my way through the maze of tents, finally arriving at the infirmary. Panting due to the exertion, I looked down and saw a faint crimson hue seeping through the bandage. Increasing my speed, I finally made it to the infirmary and threw open the flaps of the tent. I saw four people inside:

Joker. Dagger. Good 'ol Doc himself. And, of course, him. The suicidal butler. Lovely!

Upon my entry, all four pairs of eyes fell upon my panting form as I motioned to my bleeding leg. Seeing this, Doc abandoned his last patient, whom he didn't seem too concerned about, (I mean, why wouldn't he be? The man should rightfully be dead by now; not a concern at all) and gestured for me to sit on the nearby table. I struggled slightly but managed to hoist myself up as Doc wheeled himself over, unwrapping the gauze I made.

He maintained a calm exterior, but there was panic in his eyes, which only made me panic too.

Joker and Dagger began acting up, asking if I was alright and huddling around me like flustered hens. I ignored them, brushing away their comments. Instead, I found myself locking eyes with the butler, who was staring right back at me. Unlike the other men, the look in his eyes was not one of concern, like you'd expect to see when witnessing another in distress. It was one of curiosity. It seemed as though he was staring right through me, noting my every move and reaction - almost like he was analysing me. With a shudder, I turned my head away to focus on Doc.

"When did this happen, Shadow?" He asked as he cleaned the wound using a small vial of rubbing alcohol and a cloth. 

"I wish I knew." I replied, face twisting at the burning sensation. "There was no pain, so I only just noticed it now. I have no idea how long it's been bleeding for."

He took my words into consideration and glanced at my injury before replying. "Luckily for you, not very long. Nonetheless, we have to get you sown back up."

I nodded, giving my consent, as I lifted my skirts as high as I dared to with four grown men in the room, to give Doc a better view of what he's actually stitching up. As Doc wheeled himself away to sterilise a needle, an irritatingly familiar voice piped up.

"How did she originally get this scar?" The butler asked, making me grind my teeth together in annoyance.

Goodness, what a nosy bastard! Why would he ask that? It's none of his business and in any case, there's no chance I'm sharing information like that with a stranger.

Upon seeing my reluctance to reply, Joker (oh so kindly) answered for me. "Shadow had an accident a few years ago. She fell from a height and snapped the bone in 'er leg. Quite a scare that was. She was only ten, poor lass. We thought she'd die right there and then!" He explained, earning him a very nasty look from me - one that said I was not amused.

I did not have much time to glower as the sharp needle tore its way through my tender skin, making me cry out. My nails clawed at the table as stinging pain racked my entire body. Needless to say, it was humiliating for others to see me in such a state, yelping like a kicked dog. I had a half mind to ask them to leave but another cry was ripped from my throat as the needle hit a nerve. Doc muttered a brief apology before continuing. I was forced to bite back a curse, not wanting to offend my dear doctor or startle the poor gentleman standing in the corner with my improper use of language. Instead, I shut my eyes firmly, praying for it to be over and trying my hardest not to cry in front of so many people (including the stranger that sat before me, whom I really did not appreciate being here). After several more minutes of agonising pain had passed, Doc knotted the final stitch and it was over.

I released a sigh of relief as I opened my eyes again, hastily wiping any tears that managed to leak out during the ordeal. Joker and Dagger were giving me sympathetic looks, both of which I didn't return. With a solemn gaze, looked down at my sore leg, lightly rubbing the red skin around the stitches. Doc slapped my hand away.

"Be careful, girl! You don't want to open it again, do you?" He snapped, giving me a stern look.

Embarrassed at being scolded like a child, I shook my head in the negative and stared at the ground instead.

"Now, I don't think you're in a critical condition so I won't keep you bedridden. However, you won't be performing for a few weeks--"

"What?!" I yelled, eyes widening.

Despite the fact that I hated my life at the circus, performing gave me a fleeting sense of freedom and cheered me up. It is probably one of the only reasons that I don't make a hasty move and flee the circus during the night. He can't take that away from me!

Apparently he could. "Calm yourself, Shadow. Think rationally now--"

"I am thinking rationally, thank you very much. I knew I wouldn't be able to perform but I thought it'd only be for a few nights, not a few weeks. Please Doc, I have to. Who's going to take my place in the show? There's too much spare time being wasted if I don't perform! The others don't have the time to extend their routines and--"

"Shadow!" Joker yelled, genuinely frightening me, making me face him.

I then realised there were others in the room and my face flushed in embarrassment at my sudden outburst.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." I apologised with a low grumble. "I suppose I can survive a few weeks. Will I still be able to watch the performances, at least?" I begged.

"Perhaps." He drawled out, raising a hand to his chin in thought. "It depends on how well you heal. If it's as successful as last time, I may allow you."

That was not the outcome I wanted, but it could suffice for now. At least I can get some entertainment.

Offering the man a smile, I bowed my head, "Thank you, Doc."

The man gave me a gentle pat on the head before turning back to the butler. "I apologise sir, I'll get back to you now."

"No, please, I understand the young lady's needs were greater than mine."

I blinked in surprise. Young lady? Well that's something I don't hear everyday. How flattering.

"You are too kind, sir." Doc replied while I scoffed, earning me a warning look from Joker.

After a few minutes of thorough inspection, Doc lifted his hands away from the man's head and asked, "Did you really get bitten by a tiger? I don't see any wound."

The man sat back up straight and replied, smiling like a fool. "Just an affectionate nip."

Both Joker and Dagger pulled odd expressions and I'm almost sure I looked the same. Mhm, yes, very affectionate. If that's what the man considered to be affectionate, then I'm afraid his love life is nothing short of absuive.

Joker clapped his hands. "Thank God for that! I was terrified the troupe leader'd kill me for letting a customer get hurt."

"You aren't the leader?" The man frowned, turning to look at him with a scarcely concealed look of interest in his eyes.

Joker shrugged. "I'm more or less the hired replacement. The real one's scary." He joked, earning a playful slap on the back from Dagger.

Then, a muffled voice coming from the threshold of the tent tore through the air. I recognised the voice as Beast's. "Doc, would you take a look at my leg--" Her eyes landed on the butler, and she scowled.

I chuckled lowly under my breath. Oh, yes. What excellent timing! This was not going to end well for Mr Curious. Ah, and would you look at that, Beast has her whip with her. How convenient.

"Miss!" Dagger said fondly as Beast practically stormed into the tent.

"You!" She suddenly screamed, practically burning holes into our guest's back.

"I'm here for my leg, too! Yet more proof of the red thread of destiny between--" Dagger began, slowly advancing towards Beast with a smile on his face, before dropping into an overly dramatic kneeling position that could rival any stage actor's.

From where I sat, I rolled my eyes. Lovesick sweetheart. It made me retch.

"You're that dapper freak!" Beast yelled angrily, pointing a accusational finger at the man in question. "What the hell are you doing here? You completely wrecked my show--"

"Beast!" Doc suddenly cried out, making everyone go silent. "You can't speak like that to a guest. This isn't his fault; it's yours for not being able to control Betty."

I side glanced to my coworker and saw her face visibly darken at the accusation. "But he walked up to her without--"

"No buts! You're a proffesional, aren't you?" Doc intercepted, now pointing at her as she hunched her back, accepting defeat.

Doc sighed and looked down while saying. "You'll be retraining Betty after this, Beast. Is that clear?"

Beast looked down at the floor, disappointed, and nodded grimly. She turned to go place herself on Doc's table before coming face to face with me. She glared at me, making me bit the inside of my cheek as to not laugh at her mad expression. I did end up smirking a tad though. That made her narrow her eyes at me.

My my, if looks could kill.

"Shadow? What are you here for anyway? You don't have a prosthesis." She spat, clearly very pissed at me - for reasons unknown.

My God. What did I do? Was she seriously directing his anger at me now?

"Well spotted." I said, slowly shuffling off the table and placing each foot on the floor, being extremely gentle with my right leg as to not injure myself further. "I may not have a prosthesis but I am here for my leg either way."

As I said this, I gently hitched up the bottom of my dress to reveal my newly sown stitches. Her expression softened slightly - just slightly - and she crossed her arms. "You alright?" She asked, recieveing a passive huff from myself.

"I've had worse."

She nodded her head and dropped her gaze, her sympathy for me reaching its limits. Beast then took my place on the table and lifted her left leg onto it, revealing the ceramic that mimicked skin.

"Is that a prosthesis?" The butler asked, lowering his coat to the floor and standing up beside Joker, leaning in with intrigue.

"We're a bit of an irregular bunch here." Joker stated, trying to get his words around explaining our odd scenario. "We're a gathering place for people with certain problems. I'm missing an arm myself, but the Doc got me this fine replacement." He stretched out his prosthetic hand, gesturing to it.

"So, you make the protheses for this circus, sir?" The man inquired further, eager to know more.

I tilted my head, becoming increasingly suspcious. Now, I fully understand he's probably trying to make light conversation, but why would he need to know that? Better yet, why wouldn't he just leave? He's had his inspection and he's (miraculously) fine. What reason would he have to stay, willingly associating himself with the lower class? That's not very befitting of someone of his status, and I'm sure he has better things to be doing.

"More or less. It's a demanding job. I do everything from carving the parts to final fitting." Doc explained.

The other man crouched down beside him and inspected Beast's prosthetic leg. "Carving them? Are they wooden, then?" He asked.

Doc shook his head. "No, ceramic."

"Ceramic?"

"One wouldn't think they'd be suitable for fake limbs, but I use special material so they're light and sturdy." Doc told him, holding up Beast's leg for our guest to get a better view of.

Much to the surprise of everyone, he reached out and grabbed her leg. "I see." He hummed. "They're quite smooth to the touch." He expressed, cradling her foot in a delicate grip.

"Aren't they? I use spherical parts in the joints, for nice fluid movement." Doc explained as the man slid his hand further up Beast's leg, ignorant to the passionate ramblings of the doctor.

"This is truly fine work, sir." He praised, running his hand further along Beast's inner thigh (who was quickly flushing under the attention). Suddenly, his brows knitting together, and he hummed in confusion, peering closer at whatever it was that caught his intrigue.

Whether it was intentional or not, he moved his head directly into the view of Beast's crotch. The woman released an audible gasp and leapt back, blood flooding her cheeks until they flashed a fiery rouge. Cruelly, I began to snigger, relishing in the discomfort of my coworker. My amusement didn't last long though, when the stranger promptly asked, "What's this seal?"

Everything went silent. Myself and my coworkers exchanged looks, mine of confusion and theirs of immense and ultimate dread.

Beast's shrill cry of anger ripped through the silence like a bolt of lightning as she kicked down towards the man. "What on earth are you doing, you lecher?"

The man's smirk was hard to miss, and his smug tone was mirrored through his voice. "Oh, I do beg your pardon." He easily dodged Beast's kick. "You didn't strike me as modest enough to be embarrassed by such trifles."

I snorted, despite the circumstance, but Beast could find no humour in her humiliation. Her eyes twitched and before anyone of us could move an inch to pull the pair apart, her whip was in her hand and snapped to attention. Flinching at the sound, my body jerked back out of harm's way, quickly realising how out of hand this scenario was getting. Suddenly, I felt very sorry for our guest. Betty's jaw would likely be a safe haven in comparison for what was about to come.

He woke the Beast. Quite literally.

I manoeuvred myself to the side, hanging close to the exit of the tent as Beast repeatedly lashed her whip in the direction of the man, who was gliding from side to side as though this was child's play - all the while keeping an amused expression plastered on his face. Dagger and Doc went up in arms, yelling at the woman to cease whilst Joker and I stood in silence, observing with cautious eyes.

Doc was more concerned that Beast would damage something in her haste to maim our guest (clearly his priorities weren't very organised), but Dagger...

"How dare you lay a hand on my lady's fair and tender skin!" The youth screamed, shaking with rage. "I haven't even had the chance to touch it yet!"

I barely managed to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Oh, here he goes! Honestly, Dagger has to be the most melodramatic person I've ever met. Really, he should leave the circus and go join a theatre! His talents are wasted here.

The lovestruck fool then ripped out a handful of his knives and threw them towards our guest - who, once again, easily dodged them. In fact, he did more than just dodge. Incredibly, he managed to launch himself off the ground - somehow managing to jump high enough to stand on the railings above us - and stood there with perfect balance. In my bafflement, I could only stare, mouth agape.

Well, I must say, this is turning into quite the performance.

"To be precise, I didn't actually touch her skin," The butler pointed out. "But I do seem to have touched a nerve."

Dagger was only getting more and more riled up, his fingers twitching as he reached for another handfuls of his knives. I leapt forward, clutching Dagger's hand with my own.

"Enough of this, man! You're going to get us all killed if you keep this up. Please, just calm down!" I all but begged, holding steadfast despite the older man's attempts to throw me off. 

It seemed that my pleas had fallen upon deaf ears, but thankfully, Doc intercepted, finally realising the severity of this situation. "Dagger, stop this! You'll shred the tent!"

Aghast, I whipped my head towards him. That was his main concern?

"I don't care about the bloody tent! Miss Beast's honour is more important."

I very nearly scoffed at how ridiculous that statement was. We were far from the richest people on Earth, only getting a certain amount of money to fund our business, so a tent (particularly one of this size) was really important. But, go ahead! I'm sure the troupe leader would love to hear news of how you ripped apart one of his tents for the sake of honour.

Tossing me aside, Dagger propelled his knives at the man at a breakneck speed. The chances of him being able to maintain his balance and avoid being stabbed were slim. To my amazement, however, at the last possible moment, the man managed to secure each and every knife in a firm grip between his knuckles, saving himself from a rather bloody end.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn't seeing things. At this stage, it wouldn't come as a surprise if this was all one bizarre dream induced by my blood loss. I could only hope that was the case.

Out of nowhere, the crack of a whip reverberated through the tent, interrupting my trail of thought and snapping me back to the harsh reality.

"Don't get cocky, bastard!" Beast warned, coiling the end of her whip like a viper, prepared to strike once more.

Fortunately, before anymore melodramatics could ensure, Joker stepped in, a menacing glare on his painted features. It was a warning, and served its purpose well, as Beast visibly cowered. Like flipping a switch, Joker reverted back to his happy-go-lucky facade, offering the woman a bouquet of flowers that popped up out of the end of his cane, smiling brightly.

"All right, that's enough everyone." He stated cheerfully, earning him a string of protests from our childish coworker. Personally, I could only breathe a sigh of relief.

"Here, Beast," Joker comforted. "Don't be so scratchy."

"But he dared to--"

"Now, now. It's such an 'ansome leg, I can understand why he'd want to touch it." Joker replied, gently rubbing Beast's leg, making Beast blush slightly (either from the soft caress or the indirect scolding, I couldn't care to tell). "Take these flowers and cheer up."

She did so, pushing the redhead away in spite. The butler, who'd now found his way back to solid ground, placed all the knives in his palms and offered them to Dagger who reluctantly took them back, rage leaking from his pores.

"That was mighty athletic, sir!" Joked praised our guest. "I reckon I'd hire 'ee!"

That comment appeared to pique the other's interest, and he lunged forward. "Is that true?" He asked, his tone conveying nothing but dead seriousness.

I pursed my lips slightly, back straightening stiffly. What exactly was he trying to do here?

Joker let out a confused noise and stepped back, only to be followed by the taller gentleman. "Truth be told, my current master is so spoiled. I'm quite disgusted with him, in fact." He revealed to us, confirming my hypothesis that he was indeed a servant.

Joker raised a brow. "Master? I took 'ee for a gentry, dressed up so fine."

"Me, gentry? Hardly." He replied, placing a hand on his chest, smiling, humble as ever. "I am merely one hell of a butler."

. . .

Alright. That was oddly patriotic. 'One hell of a butler' - what an odd expression.

"Now, I'll inquire again, was that true? If so, I'd very much like to join you."

I directed my gaze towards my ringleader, my eyes beeseching him to use his common sense and realise how shady this man was acting. What he was doing was beyond strange, far fetched even. Who in their right mind would genuinely consider hiring someone so odd? A well-dressed, oddly mannered, proven suicidal butler abandons his (assumedly) wealthy master in a heartbeat to join a measly circus. Yes, let's hire him, by all means. He's not suspicious whatsoever.

Much to my distaste, Joker was actually considering this. "You're not having me on, are 'ee?"

"Joker!" I snapped, my voice coming out as somewhat strained. Joker raised a swift hand to silence me, and I obliged him, unwillingly so.

"I never jest." The man replied somewhat earnestly.

There was a momentary pause before the ringleader began to guffaw, the sound streaking through the silence.

"Lord, that's funny!" He chuckled while patting his hands on the man's shoulders. "All right, me 'ansome. Sure, join us anytime."

The occupants of the tent erupted in protest.

"What? Joker, you can't do that! We don't even know him." I argued, no longer paying any mind to the butler's sensitivities and if I was insulting him.

Beast (for once) helped me stand my ground and stepped forward, Dagger shadowing her. "She's, right Joker. You can't just decide that."

The redhead raised both hands in defence, grinning back at us. "But he's got such talent."

I shook my head lowly and faced the other way, seething with frustration. I could feel the butler's gaze on my back and I turned my head to openly glare at him. He didn't appear to be phased by this. Instead, he huffed out a quiet laugh and spoke out once more.

"Pardon me." He began politely, still firmly sticking to his butler role, despite his eagerness to leave the career. "There's actually another person I'd like to introduce to you."

Oh, so now he can bring along friends? We may be short handed here at the circus but we definitely aren't that desperate for new employees.

"If he's anything like 'ee, it should be fine." Joker consented. "But I reckon we'll 'ave an entry test."

Burying my head in my hands, I sighed, grumbling and muttering obscenities under my breath. Oh, he has got to be joking! This is stupid.

"Very well. I'll come back tomorrow with him then." He promised as he bowed respectively. "Thank you for all your help today."

"Anytime." I drawled, sarcasm dripping from my lips like venom, the edges of my mouth curling into a blatantly fake smile.

Beast humphed from beside me and, for once, I actually empathised with her annoyance. The man slipped through the folds of the tent, taking his leave. Good riddance, I thought.

"Oh, sir!" Joker piped up. "Wouldn't you rather have an escort?"

Good God! Just let him leave already. His presence alone is vexing me beyond my limits.

"Oh, don't worry, there's no need to show me out." The man smiled as he disappeared into the night, my eyes glaring daggers into the back of his skull.

As soon as I was confident he was out of earshot, I whisked my head around to face my ringleader, eyes ablaze. "Are you really sure that was such a clever move, Joker? We know nothing about this man. Well, other than the fact he's a complete moron and enjoys sticking his large nose into other people's business." I paused, the hint of a smirk on my face. "And tigers' mouths, apparently."

Joker looked to me and sighed. "Maybe. Maybe not. Ah well, it's done now. Cheer up, lass. Don't be so sour just because 'ee knows about thee's little accident."

A snarl corrupted my features as soon as those words left his lips. "Care to repeat that?" I dared him.

He knew for a fact that I loathed the sight of my scar and I hated people knowing about it even more. I hardly remember what happened in the first place - or anything that occurred beforehand - so how can I even be sure that the story I've been told is what actually happened? I can't, and that's precisely the reason that I don't want others to know, especially when I don't even know if there's any truth behind the essence of my story.

"Shadow, calm yourself." Doc began, drawing my attention to him. "It's all in the past now. And in any case, if that man does start working with us, he will have a right to know."

"I'm well aware of that! The fact is that Joker told him with no restraint - before he was even offered the job, mind you - as if it was nothing but a funny tale told in a pub. He didn't pay any mind to how I might've felt, or even bothered to consider the reason why I didn't want to to say anything in the first place." I snapped, my patience finally meeting its mark. "It's my story. Mine. I, and I alone, will decide who has the right to hear it."

Before any of the others could voice another sweet nothing to calm my temper, I stormed out - oblivious of the fact I shouldn't really be running in my condition - and headed straight to my tent; my safe place. Tears stung my eyes as I darted past the handful of employees still active and slid by many colourful tents before coming upon my own. Slipping through the tent's opening, I sunk to the cold dust floor and curled up into myself, releasing a quiet sob. My shoulders beginning to shake, I wrapped my arms around my torso and properly cried for the first time in a while. I felt absolutely pathetic and my shame was only deepened when a certain someone alerted me to their presence. 

"Shadow?" Doll asked me wearily, sitting up in her bed. "You alrigh'? Where'd you go? I didn't see you when I came in."

I scowled and turned my head away, quickly wiping away the moisture on my cheeks. "I'm fine," I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. "Just go back to sleep."

"It don't sound like yer fine. What's wrong?" She pressed, now crawling out of bed to join me on the floor.

"Really, its nothing Doll. Go back to sleep." I whined, burying my head in my hands, muffling the sound.

She cautiously shuffled over to me and sat down next to me, putting an arm over me and leaning on my shoulder. Sighing at her persistence and my uncontrollable outburst, I relaxed into the touch and rested my head on top of Doll's, still sniffling every now and then. I could only imagine how childish this must've looked. Although, in that moment, it made me feel protected; almost like I was embracing a younger sister - which is silly because I'm actually the older one here. It was a sense of affection that I wasn't accustomed to, but it wasn't unwelcome.

"My scar opened up." I told her solemnly, subconsciously placing my hand on the spot where my thigh was still throbbing.

She pulled away from the embrace and sent me an alarmed look, yanking my leg into her line of sight to inspect my injury, pestering over me like a flustered mother. Chuckling, I shoved her back.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. I always am fine." I replied with a halfhearted smile, wiping away any stray tears. "You know, we should go to bed otherwise I'm going to end up falling asleep on the floor like this."

"I don't care," She replied in a tired voice, making me still. "Yer my best friend. D'you know that?"

The laugh that followed was humourless, drier than the bread we ate on a morning. "Oh, I'm your best friend? I thought that honour would be for Wendy, or Jumbo even."

"Naw, its you." She said, an impish grin on her face, suddenly tugging me into another tight hug. "Believe what you want, Your Majesty, but I think of you as my best friend here."

The nickname didn't slip past me, and I smiled fondly. When I first arrived here, Doll decided to christen me with an affectionate label that only she would refer to me by. Because of my apparent posh tone and uppity behaviour, she started calling me endearing titles, suited only for those of the highest ranks in society, such as Your Majesty or Princess. I found it absolutely preposterous. I may have had a rather softer accent than those here and finer choice of dialect, but in no way was I uppity.

In spite, I decided to bless her with a mocking nickname as well, one that I personally found quite hilarious.

"Oh really, Freckles?" I countered, poking her cheeks. "Even with the way I treat you and the others? I'm a horrible friend."

"Yes, you! I'll admit, you do treat us like dirt most of the time, but you think we care? We've been treated worse. You're a pain in the arse but we still love you like a sister." She said warmly, pecking my cheek like a sibling would do.

I flinched from the foreign contact and tried to pull away, to no avail. Freckles was abnormally strong for a young girl, and her muscular arms wrapped around me almost painfully. With nothing else to do, I stared, unmoving, at the tent wall before me in absolute horror.

Oh God. They think of me as a sister?

Damn you, Freckles. Don't give me a reason to stay here.