![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
December 24th, 1981
It may have been Christmas, but all was not merry in the Kemp household. Despite the immaculate decorations provided by the help, and the happily twinkling lights, blinking inanely away without a care in the world, the Kemp Manor House seemed to be the very antithesis of 'merry'.
"Do you understand, Peter?" Klaus Kemp asked, leaning forward on the gigantic desk which took up a great deal of his large study. No amount of leaning forward could bring him any closer to the quivering 11-year-old sitting on the opposite side of the desk, but that didn't mean it didn't instill some sort of hard-won fear just by the small act of appearing as if he was closing in on the boy. Klaus had honed his intimidation techniques while working as a solicitor for years, not to mention his family life in Germany. Kempfs were bred to be intimidating. When Peter didn't answer, Klaus' lips firmed. "Peter Gabriel Kemp, do you understand what I'm telling you?!"
"Christ's sake, Klaus, don't shout at the boy." Louise said, her tiny mouth downturned with grief. "We've all had enough of misery."
Peter, his small hands clutching at the chair he was sitting in so tightly his knuckles were turning white, just nodded. He understood. They were telling him his sister would die. There was no hope left. She had leukaemia and she would die because there wasn't a suitable donor no matter where they looked. "Test me again." Peter said softly instead of answering Klaus' question. Answering his father meant it was really true, and Peter wouldn't have it. He wouldn't lose his favourite sister. "Please! Sir! Test me again!" Peter jumped off of his chair then, and he grasped the egde of Klaus' desk like a lifeline. "Please!"
"Sit down!" Klaus thundered, and Peter complied so quickly it actually looked like he'd been struck. He sat in the chair, his eyes open wide in fear and pain.
"Father, please! I-"
"Peter, your incessant whining isn't going to help matters!" Klaus growled. He couldn't bring himself to look at Peter, for fear he would see tears in his son's eyes. He couldn't stand to see the weakness there. To think that he had finally had a son, someone to inherit his family legacy, and he had been cursed with a weakling who cried at the drop of a hat. Klaus was content enough to drink his emotions away, just as his own father had done. It had served his father well. It served his younger brother Wolfgang well. Wolfgang was set to be the next head of the Kempf family and here Klaus was with his prized daughter, Margaret, dying, and all he had left was a harpy of a daughter named Elizabeth, and Peter who was more a girl than either of his sisters combined.
"Oh fuck the fuck off!" An angry Elizabeth shouted from the corner of the room where she'd been lurking since the beginning of this ridiculous excuse for a 'family meeting' which basically consisted of Klaus telling everyone that Margaret was dying and then shouting at them for having feelings. "Come on, Peter." Elizabeth charged forward, her fifteen-year-old body charged with anger. She grabbed Peter's arm and she practically dragged him off the chair and out of the room. Peter squeaked with worry that this father would punish him for something Liz was making him do, but he couldn't refuse her. Liz was more demanding even than Klaus was...
"Where are we going?" Peter asked as Elizabeth pulled him into the entrance hall of the grand house and then up the sweeping staircase to the second floor.
"To see Greta." Liz said, nearly losing her grip on Peter as she rounded the stairs. Peter managed to catch himself and not plummet to a messy death, but only just.
As they entered Margaret's room, their demeanors changed immediately. It was as if the anger drained out of Liz, and Peter's fear was silenced, though it didn't hide very far beneath the surface. Peter and Liz stood there, side by side, faced with the sight of their favourite sibling, their great peacemaker, lying in front of them her skin as pale as a ghost. Her beautiful hair was gone, and with it, the last of the vitality she had been so well known for. Still, she had a smile for her siblings affixed on her fourteen-year-old face. "Hi." She said weakly. "You look cheerful..." Even on her death bed, Margaret was still Margaret.
"The Grinch is dead set on stealing Christmas." Liz hissed. "Dancing sugarplums be damned, apparently." Liz leaned against the wall, her arms crossed in anger.
Margaret raised her eyebrows slightly, and her expression was weary but amused. "I see."
Peter forewent pleasantries and he simply climbed right up on Margaret's bed so he could curl up at her side. "I wanted to be tested again but Father said no..."
Margaret turned her head to the side so she could kiss her brother's hair. "That's because he knows the results won't change, Ace. He doesn't want you to go through the testing again when there's no point." For someone who was dying, Margaret was remarkably stoic. She had always been that way. She was logical and strong. She was the only one of Klaus' children who could see the man beneath the shell of ice he'd encased himself in. She could see what Klaus had said to Peter as the protection it really was, instead of the impatience Klaus wrapped it up in. She had her part to play and she would play it until she couldn't anymore. "But you're a king for trying."
Peter just broke down, sobbing into Margaret's shoulder. Elizabeth, who couldn't stand to see Peter hurting even if she was pissed off at Klaus, stepped forward as well, and she climbed up onto the bed beside him so he was lying in between his sisters, protected on both sides, like he had always been.
Soon enough, one of his sisters would be gone. Soon one side would be unprotected, open to attack. And it scared Peter more than he could ever explain.
It may have been Christmas, but all was not merry in the Kemp household. Despite the immaculate decorations provided by the help, and the happily twinkling lights, blinking inanely away without a care in the world, the Kemp Manor House seemed to be the very antithesis of 'merry'.
"Do you understand, Peter?" Klaus Kemp asked, leaning forward on the gigantic desk which took up a great deal of his large study. No amount of leaning forward could bring him any closer to the quivering 11-year-old sitting on the opposite side of the desk, but that didn't mean it didn't instill some sort of hard-won fear just by the small act of appearing as if he was closing in on the boy. Klaus had honed his intimidation techniques while working as a solicitor for years, not to mention his family life in Germany. Kempfs were bred to be intimidating. When Peter didn't answer, Klaus' lips firmed. "Peter Gabriel Kemp, do you understand what I'm telling you?!"
"Christ's sake, Klaus, don't shout at the boy." Louise said, her tiny mouth downturned with grief. "We've all had enough of misery."
Peter, his small hands clutching at the chair he was sitting in so tightly his knuckles were turning white, just nodded. He understood. They were telling him his sister would die. There was no hope left. She had leukaemia and she would die because there wasn't a suitable donor no matter where they looked. "Test me again." Peter said softly instead of answering Klaus' question. Answering his father meant it was really true, and Peter wouldn't have it. He wouldn't lose his favourite sister. "Please! Sir! Test me again!" Peter jumped off of his chair then, and he grasped the egde of Klaus' desk like a lifeline. "Please!"
"Sit down!" Klaus thundered, and Peter complied so quickly it actually looked like he'd been struck. He sat in the chair, his eyes open wide in fear and pain.
"Father, please! I-"
"Peter, your incessant whining isn't going to help matters!" Klaus growled. He couldn't bring himself to look at Peter, for fear he would see tears in his son's eyes. He couldn't stand to see the weakness there. To think that he had finally had a son, someone to inherit his family legacy, and he had been cursed with a weakling who cried at the drop of a hat. Klaus was content enough to drink his emotions away, just as his own father had done. It had served his father well. It served his younger brother Wolfgang well. Wolfgang was set to be the next head of the Kempf family and here Klaus was with his prized daughter, Margaret, dying, and all he had left was a harpy of a daughter named Elizabeth, and Peter who was more a girl than either of his sisters combined.
"Oh fuck the fuck off!" An angry Elizabeth shouted from the corner of the room where she'd been lurking since the beginning of this ridiculous excuse for a 'family meeting' which basically consisted of Klaus telling everyone that Margaret was dying and then shouting at them for having feelings. "Come on, Peter." Elizabeth charged forward, her fifteen-year-old body charged with anger. She grabbed Peter's arm and she practically dragged him off the chair and out of the room. Peter squeaked with worry that this father would punish him for something Liz was making him do, but he couldn't refuse her. Liz was more demanding even than Klaus was...
"Where are we going?" Peter asked as Elizabeth pulled him into the entrance hall of the grand house and then up the sweeping staircase to the second floor.
"To see Greta." Liz said, nearly losing her grip on Peter as she rounded the stairs. Peter managed to catch himself and not plummet to a messy death, but only just.
As they entered Margaret's room, their demeanors changed immediately. It was as if the anger drained out of Liz, and Peter's fear was silenced, though it didn't hide very far beneath the surface. Peter and Liz stood there, side by side, faced with the sight of their favourite sibling, their great peacemaker, lying in front of them her skin as pale as a ghost. Her beautiful hair was gone, and with it, the last of the vitality she had been so well known for. Still, she had a smile for her siblings affixed on her fourteen-year-old face. "Hi." She said weakly. "You look cheerful..." Even on her death bed, Margaret was still Margaret.
"The Grinch is dead set on stealing Christmas." Liz hissed. "Dancing sugarplums be damned, apparently." Liz leaned against the wall, her arms crossed in anger.
Margaret raised her eyebrows slightly, and her expression was weary but amused. "I see."
Peter forewent pleasantries and he simply climbed right up on Margaret's bed so he could curl up at her side. "I wanted to be tested again but Father said no..."
Margaret turned her head to the side so she could kiss her brother's hair. "That's because he knows the results won't change, Ace. He doesn't want you to go through the testing again when there's no point." For someone who was dying, Margaret was remarkably stoic. She had always been that way. She was logical and strong. She was the only one of Klaus' children who could see the man beneath the shell of ice he'd encased himself in. She could see what Klaus had said to Peter as the protection it really was, instead of the impatience Klaus wrapped it up in. She had her part to play and she would play it until she couldn't anymore. "But you're a king for trying."
Peter just broke down, sobbing into Margaret's shoulder. Elizabeth, who couldn't stand to see Peter hurting even if she was pissed off at Klaus, stepped forward as well, and she climbed up onto the bed beside him so he was lying in between his sisters, protected on both sides, like he had always been.
Soon enough, one of his sisters would be gone. Soon one side would be unprotected, open to attack. And it scared Peter more than he could ever explain.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}