Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9788873.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
  Fandom:
      Taboo_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      James_Delaney/Original_Character(s), James_Delaney/Zilpha_Geary, Lorna
      Bow/James_Delaney
  Character:
      James_Delaney, Zilpha_Geary, Lorna_Bow, Winter_(Taboo_TV_2017), Original
      Female_Character(s), Brace_(Taboo_TV_2017), helga_(Taboo_TV_2017), thorne
      geary, Cholmondeley_(Taboo_TV_2017)
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Unresolved_Sexual_Tension, Past_Sexual_Abuse,
      Taboo, Love_/_Hate, very_foolish_things, Spoilers, Angst, Slow_Burn,
      Dark, Resolved_Sexual_Tension, james_keziah_delaney_-_Freeform, Rough
      Sex, Manipulation
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-16 Updated: 2017-02-22 Chapters: 3/? Words: 3722
****** Very Foolish Things ******
by superb_mediocrity
Summary
     "Don't talk to me of sense Brace, because if it is you, I might
     believe it...
     ...and i have sworn to do very foolish things." -- James Delaney,
     1x1.
     From the moment James Delaney returns to London from Africa for his
     father's funeral, he finds himself at the center of attention. The
     subject of much interest and debate, he plans to take London by
     storm, but needs the help of a very particular crew to aid in
     achieving his goal while under the watchful eye of various opposing
     political powers. His every move is shrouded with anticipation, and
     no one he touches is spared. What makes Noemi any different?
     This is a fic featuring my original character, Noemi, and her
     dealings involving the mysterious Mr. James Keziah Delaney. It is
     based off of the TV series Taboo (2017).
Notes
     I would love constructive comments / criticism! This fic is going
     outside of my usual genre, so it will be interesting to see how I do!
     Thank YOU!
***** Chapter 1 *****
Falling asleep was difficult for Noemi.
Once vacated of its patrons, the brothel always seemed too empty, the thin
mattress she shared too large, and the sweaty, sex suffused air too cold.
She would often become restless, her muscles aching for movement, but a
ravenous, seizing fear would suddenly grip her by the throat and root her to
the bed; fixing her in place until the sharp spasms of pain pulsing through her
petrified muscles dulled, lulling her into a fitful sleep.
Last night had been no different; the jagged edges of light that struggled
through the window tickling her eyes awake with their elusiveness. Visions of
smoke and flame emerged as she followed the flickering flecks of shadow, their
potency dimming only with the arrival of a dusky gray glow over the harbor. As
the first flecks of orange appeared on the horizon, Noemi finally slid off to
sleep, the barren echo of silence resounding in her ears.
It was for this reason that she found herself particularly perturbed to be
awoken by the thundering roar of belligerent voices accompanied by the clumsy
scrape of a key being rather forcibly inserted into the brothel’s front door.
“Oi! What are you doing with the door? You want a bush you come through me.
That is private property.”
A low expression of sound beyond the large wooden barrier alerted Noemi to a
reply regarding her matron’s boisterous interrogation. Even in the vacuous
silence of early morning, Noemi could just barely make out a man’s entreating
response.
“Helga! It’s so good to see that you’re still working…even still alive. You
know that I lay with you when I was just a little boy?”
If her mistress responded, it was too quiet to hear, and subsequently Noemi was
deaf to the exchange between Helga and the intruder. Silence ensued, and for a
few precious moments, Noemi felt herself drift back towards oblivion, feeling
secure in the emerging light of dawn.
“This key? This is my father’s key. Horace Delaney, hmm?”
“Shit.”
“Yes, shit.” The abrupt words reverberated forcefully off of the chalky stone
walls. Curious about the intrusion, Noemi scrambled to her knees, and peaked
through the delicate lace fabric that sheltered her and Winter from view. She
arrived just in time to see a tall man in dark clothing burst through the door.
He entered the room with lumbering confidence, victory already written into his
heels as he swaggered over to the large bed in the center of the room, lifting
the curtain to reveal a tangle of naked bodies.
“Your father stopped coming. It was empty. It was wasted…so close to the
docks!”
Helga’s tone was contrite, resigned, and Noemi couldn't help but feel the
fraudulence in her remorse. Who has ever made Helga apologize?
Denying her offer of tea, the stranger and her mistress circled each other,
neither bothering to monitor the gradual increase in volume that soon had all
of Helga’s whores staring unabashedly from their beds as they considered the
proceedings.
“Do you want a fuck?
“No. I want my family offices back.”
Family offices? Noemi stilled as she listened, the red dredges of her damnable
curiosity creeping up to stain her ears as she briefly studied the supreme
object of her interest—the supposed heir of the old man Delaney. Helga cursed
in German, the hard consonants garbled by anger and frustration.
“How much do you make here?”
Such a strange question. Noemi was enthralled as she watched Helga’s shrewd
eyes examine their guest, his expectant silence making Noemi’s heart flutter
with excitement.
“With the workers in the yard and the boats that moor at the wharf, we make ten
pounds a day. I can give you five, and whatever you like. Boys, girls, suck,
fuck...”
Noemi couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped upon hearing Helga’s offer, and
was even more shocked to find herself the new subject of his unwavering
attention as a pair a cloudy eyes caught sight of her own. Noemi passed several
moments of painful scrutiny as he regarded her in silence; embarrassment at
being caught eavesdropping rendering her motionless, frozen beneath his icy
glare.
“You have two hours to get out.”
Noemi shivered as he spoke, the jarring lilt of his speech liberating her from
the perpetual punishment of his gaze.
“You say I took your cherry?”
Helga’s response was a desperate one; flustered. Everything, from her tone of
voice to body language, was oozing tepid sensuality. It was clear to Noemi that
she was talking now to buy time, to postpone the inevitable, and Noemi was sure
that if it was obvious to her, then Helga’s intentions would be perfectly
transparent to their guest. A shadow darkening her already dim view, Noemi
watched as the somber Delaney turned back to Helga, only bothering to grunt in
answer to her query.
“Mm.”
Closing the short distance between them, Helga murmured sweetly in response to
his rumblings; her tone developing a slight maternal inflection. “Where have
you been little boy?” Reaching out, she attempted to trace the jagged trench
that marred the area just below his left eye, but her hand was swallowed by his
own as he deflected her attentions.
“I’ve been in the world.”
The stranger’s icy tone sent shrieking pangs of unease coursing through the
girl, and for a moment she wondered if perhaps this was all part of some
nightmare; a malicious trick of her imagination caused by a lack of sleep.
However, even as her hope was born, it died under the crushing disapproval of
his gaze as her mistress whispered something almost completely inaudible,
grabbing him stiffly by the collar.
“…they’re not very good men, you understand?”
“Mm.”
“They have rocks for hearts. They have knives and ropes…” She clutched his coat
like a lifeline, the bony white blunts of her knuckles peeking through that
distinctively grimy layer of salt and brine that cover the bodies of all those
who live at the Wapping Wall. Even for all of her misguided flirtations,
however, Helga was nothing if not the image of confidence as she purred yet
again, softly in his ear.
“…if you have any sense—“
Her advice was interrupted by the screech of wood against stone and a clatter
as several dishes and baubles fell to floor, shattered to dust.
“People who do not know me soon come to understand that I do not have any
sense!”
His tone was cold, his words deliberate, and there was no doubt in Noemi’s mind
that he meant exactly what he said. A sudden, warm pressure at her side alerted
the girl to Winter’s presence, and crouching together in the sheltering dark of
their lofted sanctuary, they listened eagerly for the man’s next words.
“Now, please do not misunderstand the situation. You send me twelve men, I will
return you twelve sets of testicles in a bag, and we can watch your little
whores devour them together. Before I chop off your trotters. And boil them. ”
He included the last addition with a flourish of his hand; a series of
deliberate wags as he flaunted a thick iron key underneath Helga’s nose.
“Two hours” he repeated, holding two fingers up to emphasize his point.
Noemi and Winter watched breathlessly as he turned away from his audience; a
greedy curiosity giving them the courage to peak their heads out of the thin
curtains in order to watch the solemn figure make his exit. The man had almost
reached the door when Helga’s sputtering cackle stopped him in his tracks.
“You, I remember you. I remember you! Heard the stories…If I give you a girl, I
will never see her again…”
Noemi felt her throat constrict as her heart danced sporadically in her chest.
What could she mean by that?
His response was immediate, curt, and completely unblemished by emotion.
“You heard right. Be punctual.”
***** Damnation *****
Chapter Summary
     "I like to see what lies beneath."
     James Keziah Delaney, 1x2
Chapter Notes
     I love feedback! Feel free to leave comments / kudos!
“Tell me again.”
Crouching low in the dark, Noemi made to confront her companion, her efforts
futile beneath the velvet viscosity that blanketed them from above. A curse
bubbling in her throat, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her right ear,
replacing the hollow left by the blunted cigar that now rested between the
crooked upturn of her lips. The vigorous strike of a match on stone cut through
the clutter of commerce from the docks nearby, and Noemi took a few long drags
from the stub, watching as the spark set her comrade’s face aglow in dim red
flame.
Noemi tossed the butt to the ground with a frustrated sigh and grabbed the
other girl by the chin, tugging sharply so that their eyes met. There was only
silence as they both waited, each expecting the other to break the spell of
buzzing tension. Their stubborn exchange was interrupted, however, by a
screaming burst of wind that clawed through the harbor, slashing the pair with
its salty daggers. Icy whispers soon filled Noemi’s ears, their hissing wail
chilling her to her core.
Practiced arms tangled themselves around Winter’s frame, mechanical in their
protection. Pressing the child against the sheltering hollow of her body, Noemi
took the brunt of the assault, wondering frantically if Winter also heard the
hollow voices that hung on the dredges of the wind. A final shiver pricked at
her neck as the gale passed on, but her instinctual unease was quashed by the
distant thud of heavy boots.
Noemi shuddered, desperation evident in the tremble of her voice. “What are you
to tell him!”
Winter’s dark gaze met her own, her eyes impassive as she regarded her shaking
friend.
“I tell him that Mistress Helga gave information to a man with a silver tooth.
I say that he means to do him harm, and the mistress knew it.”
“And?” Noemi adjusted the stiff brim of a dark hat, sweeping away the salty
grime that had been carried in by the wind.
“And…” Winter rolled her eyes as she rehearsed, warranting a gentle pinch from
Noemi. “I tell him where the boat is moored.”
“Good girl.” Slapping the hat onto Winter’s head, Noemi signaled towards the
approaching crunch of boots; shooing Winter from the spot where they hid just
as a determined James Delaney passed by. Once she was sure that Winter had his
attention, Noemi snuck away, tucking her chin in towards her chest as she
disappeared into the shadows to wait as Winter completed her errand.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
She could see the fire from the docks, the hazy flame no more than a glow on
the horizon as a fog settled on the river. Inhaling deeply, Noemi sputtered as
thick threads of smoke from the burning ruin pressed against her lungs,
tightening around the gurgling lump that threatened to asphyxiate her with its
unwavering density. Slipping her bare feet to and fro in the murky shallows,
Noemi rocked with the swell of the water, captivated by the white froth that
patterned the spiraling channels following her naked ankles.
“Do you think everyone is naked in Africa?”
Noemi’s barking laugh was carried by the slapping waves, and she beamed at
Winter’s sincerity. “Why don’t you ask your new friend?”
“I already did. He didn’t tell me anything.”
The pair sat in silence for a while, watching the hazy silhouettes of ships
traversing the river in the distance. Frantic shouts coming from the glowing
center of the water alerted the girls to the desperate efforts of the dockhands
to douse the raging beacon of flame that refused to drown in the salty brine.
“I think he’s dangerous.” Winter’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Noemi
struggled briefly to hear her.
Me too, she wanted to reply, but something within her barred the words from
leaving her mouth, rendering her mute in pensive reflection as she gazed out at
the flames that brightened their foggy town.
“He promised to take me to America.”
Winter’s eyes were bright and eager, and Noemi’s breath caught in her chest.
She imagined a primal place, a land of dark, lush forests, and heaving, painted
bodies that gyrated suggestively in the firelight. The idea made her body ache,
and something wild deep within her claimed momentary possession of her
faculties. In a moment of desperate determination, she grabbed Winter’s hand
and squeezed it gently as she focused on the brightening sky, resolved to see
for herself the distant world that danced so elusively in her imagination.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The following night found Noemi fluttering busily about the brothel’s kitchen
serving the bouts of newly grounded shipping crews that crowded the docks.
Idly, she noted the newcomers were dripping with the distinct odor of stale
isolation brought about by weeks at sea, the stench peppered with the heady
fragrance of sex. Armed with full plates and flagons of ale, Noemi rushed from
table to table, beads of perspiration clinging appealingly to the gentle curves
of her bosom.
A sudden flood of red spread across the aging yellow fabric of the girl’s
blouse, unfurling so that it covered entirely the raised peaks of her breasts
with its pungent sanguinity. Greedy hands groped at her, and more crimson
liquid spilled from a goblet held by a rather squat customer with pockmarks and
menacing gray eyes. Lips struck her own, tasting overwhelmingly of wine, and
then she was falling, coming to crash onto the welcoming lap of another, larger
man. She protested as strong arms reached around her, holding her imprisoned in
a stiff embrace. Her refusals, however, were met with laughter as the first man
reached under her apron, vigorously pinching the fleshy mound at the apex of
her thighs.
Struggling violently, Noemi shoved against her imprisoner, who set her free
with a loud guffaw. Spittle flew from his decaying maw, striking Noemi’s cheek
and making her gag. Tasting metal, the girl swayed as a dizzying repulsion
unsettled her stomach and made her want to retch. The world seeming to shift
precariously, and she stumbled out of the brothel and down a back ally;
desperate for air. Once outside, she walked aimlessly, a tickling urge
encouraging her deep into darkened alleys that joined the docks. A sudden
tumble of motion caught her attention as she wandered, and she quickly sank
into the shadows; bearing witness to a rapid succession of movement so
effortlessly efficient it would have passed unnoticed had Noemi not been there
to see it herself.
There was a solid thump as a shrouded figure fell motionless onto the pavement.
Noemi’s heart stopped as the victor stood over his victim, swaying a little
before falling into crumpled heap. A shuddering sigh reached her ears just as
she noticed the silvery glint of metal protruding from the winners abdomen. In
a rush of blind adrenaline, Noemi crossed the darkened street, bypassing the
motionless heap that obstructed her goal, and knelt by the injured person,
shocked to see the unconscious face of James Delaney.
For a moment, she was unable to move, paralyzed by the thought of him waking up
to discover that she had seen the aftermath of his little tussle in the dark.
Would he want to kill her too? A gruff moan from Delaney called the girl back
to the situation at hand, and without allowing herself to think about what she
was doing, she grabbed the shaft of the dagger that was lodged inside of him
and yanked, pressing his head to her chest in order to muffle his unconscious
groans of protest as the blade exited his body. Biting her lip, Noemi pushed
against the wound, attempting to keep the crimson warmth from leaving his body,
but her efforts were futile, and bright gushes of red oozed between her
fingers.
In a fit of desperation, Noemi began to slap Delaney, hoping pain would wake
him up. She accompanied her abuses with gentle murmurs, inviting him back to
consciousness, and was pleased by his sputtering protestations as she wrapped
his heavy arm around her shoulders. Supporting as much of his weight as she
could, she ordered the dazed man to walk, explaining that they needed to find
help, but he remained unresponsive.
She had almost managed to drag him the length of the ally when Delaney lashed
out in a sudden, violent fit. Wrenching his arm from her shoulder, he pushed
Noemi away from him; his frenzied eyes scanning the empty dark. With a muffled
howl, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around her throat, cutting off her
air supply. Choking, Noemi clawed at his fingers, hands, and arms—desperate to
stop him in any way.
Just as she was almost overcome by those flashing pinpricks of light that
signal unconsciousness, an idea came to her mind unbidden, a parcel of sound
exploding from her lips with desperate abandon and causing her attacker to drop
her immediately. He seemed confused for a moment, his unseeing eyes tinged with
blatant incredulity as he regarded her gasping form. Before he could grab her
again, however, Noemi disappeared into the long shadows of the docks, fear
yapping at her heels. As she hurried away, Noemi swore she could hear the
prickle of whispers teasing her ears, their breezy rumors accompanying the
unmistakable saunter of James Delaney as he hastened away from the docks,
rivulets of blood dribbling down his chin and blackening his shirt.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     "You don't speak, but you do have answers. You do."
     --James Keziah Delaney, Taboo (2017), 1x3
Chapter Notes
     I thrive on feedback! Let me know how I'm doing!!
     <3 thanks for reading :)
All across Wapping Wall reverberated the cries of carrion birds as they sought
their prey in the gray foggy dawn. If the inhabitants of the area noticed,
however, they ignored the creatures’ desperate shrieking, choosing instead to
focus on the delicate workings of life rather than worry about the disposal of
another of the innumerable dead that washed up on shore with the tide.
A momentary glimmer of light signaled Noemi to the dazzling reflection stemming
from an exposed silver tooth. The skinny girl crouched over the corpse for a
long while, inhaling the stench of fish and decay. She savored the odor,
letting it fill her head and satiate some deep urge within her that seemed to
pump directly along the bloody route to her heart. To Noemi, there seemed to be
something attractive about the darkness that blotted the world; something that
drew her in and held her close, captivating her with its putrid mystery.
Taking the tiny dagger that she hid in her boot, she sliced the graying flesh
of the man and marveled at the slow coagulation of blackened blood. She became
momentarily concerned upon seeing that middle of him was gone, however; all of
his guts pressed neatly against the walls of skin. Noemi stared at the space
where she knew the heart should be, and was greeted by an empty shell.
Something inside her triggered then, and flashes of the night before darkened
her perception of the present. Suddenly, she was blind—falling into an abyss of
memory that left her shaking in the muddy waste that sheltered the dead man’s
carcass.
–Slick, icy hands clawed at her throat, painting smears of blood on her neck.
She began panting, gasping for air. She could taste the hollow metallicity of
asphyxiation coating her tongue, leaving it thick and heavy in her mouth. Her
sight started to fade, and Noemi focused on the thick rivers of red that coated
her attackers’ lips and trickled down his chin before she lashed out—screaming
something that she had heard in her nightmares—
The girl shivered, barely recovered from the attack of recollection when harsh
rivers of sound flooded her ears once more, and a new barrage of memories
emerged, accompanied now by shivering whispers that had all but lost any
meaning to her unaccustomed ears.
Demonio.
…una amenaza para todos nosotros… ¿qué hacemos si escap—?
¡Cállate ya! Podría oírnos…
Noemi shook the voices from her head. She could only understood bits and pieces
of them now, the twisted language starting to scramble and fade with the
passing of every year she spent on London’s rocky shore. Glancing again at the
lifeless form that splashed against the muddy pillars of the docks, Noemi
considered the myriad of possible things that could have happened to this poor
man—but deep in her heart she knew what she had seen...
As if it were occurring in front of her, she relived the moment she witnessed
James Delaney’s darkened shadow blot out the dim glow emitted by the lamp at
the end of the street. Frantic and bright, Delaney’s teeth had gleamed in the
light, enhanced by the bloody shine that dripped so prettily onto the dusty
street below... Noemi gasped for air as she felt the tendrils of memory tighten
their hold around her, suffocating her just as Delaney had meant to the
previous night, but a child’s eager voice shattered the memories.
“The fishes ate his heart out!”
“Maybe the fishes, maybe not.” Noemi swallowed the perverse smile that tugged
at the corners of her mouth. “And the silver tooth is mine.”
It could make a nice peace offering, Noemi hoped. It would show that she didn’t
have any intention of spilling his secret. And quite the secret it was, too. A
wicked satisfaction warmed her chest, and another feeling she couldn’t quite
understand began to blossom within her. Besides, there was something that she
wanted from him; something only he could offer her—America.
Even the distant idea of it sent shivers down her neck. Winter and Noemi had
been planning such an escape for years; stealing purses and saving penny after
penny as they idly dreamed for their turn to jump onto one of the sloops that
continuously poured into the harbor.
Taking the soiled blade, Noemi lay the tip between the dead man’s teeth, gently
pressing until the silver tooth popped into her waiting hand.
“Check his pockets, boys. After that, start ahead on our normal business; I
hear there’s t’ be a grand crowd gathered tonight at Covent Garden.”
The children regarded her with greedy eyes before they began rifling through
the corpses’ waterlogged pockets. As they disturbed the body, Noemi again
noticed faint twinges of rot tinting the breeze. With a heavy sigh, she turned
to Winter, nodding that she should take over directing their little band of
larks. She was eager to confront the carnivorous beast, James Delaney, before
he had the chance to eat her heart, too.
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