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Prologue

Hello, my darling doves

Suprise! The fanfiction began.

Before you dig into it… Yes, it is in a different timeline than the actual book, and not all things are same as in the book, but you will find out eventually:)

I hope you will like it and I’m always open to hear your opinions on it!

xoxo, Rosemary<3

warnings: none:) maybe alcohol use, but this is tsh so nobody really cares

summary: just some warming up

word count: 1.3k

Richard Papen, 1953

Some nights, I am still at that hotel. We all are. Charles with a gun in his hand, Camilla sobbing, Francis and I frozen, and Henry… Nearly smiling at the gun. The next events happened barely in a mere second. The screaming, the gunshots, the warm feeling in my stomach, the red wine and blood splashing. Henry lay dead on the floor, his pale face covered in blood. He was pronounced dead on the scene when the police arrived, while they were on their way Francis put a blanket on him, I don’t remember those moments very well. I only remember the blood on his face and his closed eyes. Francis was the only one who attended the funeral, I would have gone with him to Missouri, where he was getting buried, but I was laying in the hospital with a gunshot.

I never saw the twins ever again. Charles ran away and Camilla went silent. We nearly couldn’t care less about Charles after what he had done, but Camilla was a hard pill to swallow.

Me and Francis tried everything we could for a good while, brought her to the best psychiatrist, and we stayed with her patiently. Until she finally spoke to us again. But only a few words, she kindly asked us to leave her alone to deal with her grief, Henry or Charles, we never knew. We understood and left her alone like she asked. We tried our best to get our friend back and figured that she would contact us if she wanted to.

—

Me and Francis kept in touch over the years, calls and visits were engraved in our daily routines. He visited me in Chicago and I visited him in Boston. I analyzed literature and sometimes gave lessons in big named schools. Francis wrote detective books, he started writing them as a distraction and they blew up, people loved him. In the end, both of us were steady on our feet. I wasn’t in possession of a family fortune, but I became a bit wealthy myself.

However, there was one name we never dared to speak. Until today.

We were at Francis’s huge apartment, on the couch, whiskey in hand. We already drank a bottle of Irish whiskey. Suddenly he laughed to himself in a drunken manner. “What is it?” I laughed to myself too at his odd manner, the whiskey really managed to get in my head, I felt dizzy and floaty.

His laughing slowly went away and he stared at the maroon wall dreamily. “You know what I think about sometimes?” He looked at me with a sly foxy smile. “What if Henry never died?” I suddenly sat up and a little part of me was relieved that he said Henry’s name, he might have been drunk out of his mind but still. He knew Henry for a longer time than I did and his death was harder for him, he is also a sensitive fellow so that was not the greatest mix. I started snickering at his foolish question, but I stopped it when I saw his serious face, he was lost in thought.

“Francis? Where did this come from? We both watched him fall to the floor.” I tried studying his face, he wouldn’t look in my eyes.

“I know, I know. But those parts are so blurry, I barely remember how we got out of there. What do you remember from it?” He finally looked at me.

“Oh yeah, I remember every single little detail that happened. Especially the gunshot wound in my stomach and the blood oozing out of it!” He angered me a bit, the alcohol made the moment more dramatic than it actually was.

“Okay, I see your point…” He bit his lip, as if he was in distress. “What if he didn’t actually die? That was the last time we saw him and we got ushered out so quickly that we didn’t even register what hap—“

“Aren’t you a detective murder mystery writing novelist? Your mind is more creative day by day.” I point to his shelf, where he displayed the awards his books and stories won, in a joking manner. He was really good at what he was doing, no wonder everyone always begged for the new novel of his, even my students who I eventually taught from time to time.

He was not laughing, not appreciating my joke. I could see it in his eyes that he really was thinking. “Richard, have you ever seen him after that?”

“Weren’t you the one who sat through his whole funeral?!”

“It was a closed casket.” He shrugged.

“Closed casket?” I straightened up at the new information. “Didn’t he always say that he was going to have an open casket funeral?”

Francis’s eyes widened. “He did, because he wanted people to really see that all of us end up in the same way.” It was silent for a few minutes, until Francis turned to me. “Richard, if he could write his car to your name, then he could have had an open casket funeral. He wrote what he wanted for it when he was like sixteen, and the way he was looking at the gun?” We turned more serious by the second.

“Maybe he had a closed casket to spare Camilla?” I brought up my only explanation, but even I barely believed it.

“Camilla is not as weak as you think, and Henry was or is not that soft to change what he always believed in for a girl.” My biggest problem was that he actually made some sense, there was something about what he had said.

“So, let me get this straight. Henry may be alive and we didn’t think of this for five years?” I scoffed and turned to Francis. I put my hands on both of his shoulders and sighed deeply, as if I was a father who is about to tell a life lesson to his child. “Look Francis, I know that this Henry being alive and well alternative is way more sweeter, but it is not the truth and not the one we live in.”

“I know, but what if—“ He tried to interrupt me.

“No, no more what if’s… Henry is dead. We watched him shoot himself in the head and drop to the floor. You sat through his funeral, closed casket or not, he was in there. He is gone, Francis. Fuck… I wish he wasn’t, I wish we found a better way to deal with everything going on without anyone dying. I wish that Charles never came in with a gun in hand…” He had tears in his eyes from my little speech, maybe I did too, but I needed him to open up his eyes and see our sad truth.

He smiled sadly, a fat tear running down his freckled cheek. “I wish for anything that could have kept our group together…” he said as he stared into the crunching fire in the fireplace. I believe that in that moment he tried really hard for the first time to accept what we came to.

“We’re here now. Maybe up there, Bunny could give that goddamn slap back to Henry and even bang him in the head with his stupid latin diary.” I nudged his shoulder, trying to ease the tension. What I didn’t expect was a proper laugh from him. Half a genuine laugh, half a grieving sob.

“Yeah, you’re right… Thank you, Richard. For everything.” He lifted his glass and we clicked them together.

“To new beginnings.”

“To new fucking beginnings.”

Hello!

Would you doves enjoy a Henry Winter fanfic that would be written in Richard Papen’s point of view?

I have this idea in my head and I am interested if you would like it.

xoxo, Rosemary <3

I am a HUGE Henry Winter apologist, still, I admit that he did awful things here and there.

BUT nobody, and I mean nobody, can tell me that the only reason he wanted Camilla, was to make Richard feel bad.

It is mentioned multiple times that he was always fond of Camilla and that she made him smile (bless her dear heart)

So, he may be cold and all, but he had true feelings for Camilla, and when she needed help, he was willing to do anything to protect her.

Case dismissed.

hey hey!! any new fics coming??

Hey hey!! Well, I have a few scenarios in mind, but I haven’t written a word.

Sorry for the answer, I promise I will drop something soon:)

xoxo my doves

Hello, doves!

I am a really big fan of 'the secret history' and Henry Winter. I noticed that there are not many writings about them, so I am here to change that.

I will mostly write about Henry, but you will occasionally see Francis, Camilla, and Richard too, especially if you request.

Pretty please, don't be shy and request your heart's wish, I would be very happy to read it and write it.

I never actually wrote on Tumblr, so expect me to be a bit clumsy with it :)

A bit of warning, this blog will contain major spoilers and smut.

I wish you all the joy,

xoxo, Rosemary <3

Chapter One

The first proper chapter!

As you could already see, this story plays in a different time, so don’t get upset at what the characters say or do.

Please please please tell me your opinions on it and most importantly, enjoy:)

warnings: mentions of murder, death faking, classic Henry Winter behaviour

summary: Henry is on his way to his new home and he reflects on the last couple of weeks.

word count: 2k

Prologue to this fanfiction

1948

He was a free man now, but at the same time he wasn’t.

At least the restless nights were over, he didn’t have to worry about the police coming any second to bust his door down and arrest him. Even though deep down he knew that his father would shoot anyone who dares to lay a hand on his son. But, the freedom he was always destined to live came with a price. He had to sooner or later, so it didn’t really matter anymore. He had his Hampden years as only his, as a brand new person, but after he should have graduated he was supposed to get back where he really belongs. He didn’t need a diploma, when you’re the son of one of the wealthiest and powerful man in the world, you need anything but a stupid diploma. He went there, purely because he wanted to. He wanted to be someone else for a while, he wanted to study languages and adore literature, art. He was lucky to find the people he called his friends, well, some of them were a burden. Bunny Corcoran made himself a burden and Charles Macaulay was born a burden. But Francis Abernathy and Richard Papen were good men with no bad intentions and he liked having them around. And then there was his little love, Camilla, he believes that he loves her, but then again he has absolutely no clue what love is, but his feelings for Camilla were the closests things to it. However, if he loved her, why did he leave her so easily? Wasn’t it supposed to be a hard choice choosing between her or his powerful freedom? The answer doesn’t even matter anymore, nothing that happened in those years and few months matters anymore. Things happened the way they happened and it is time for new beginnings. He was a brand new man, the one he was always supposed to be and the one he left behind is dead, at least to everyone else.

He stared out the window of his family’s private plane. His cigarette dangling from his lips mirrored his father, who sat in front of him, also with a burning cigarette between his lips. He was his father’s twin, the same pale skin, same big height and the same raven dark hair, but he got his bright eyes from his dear mother.

The stewardess, who was also the family’s maid, came in with a tray, two crystal glasses and a bottle of fine scotch. The silver haired woman poured both of them an inch.

“Laura, dear.” Henry’s father said “the boy had a hard time, don’t shy away with the scotch.”

“Yes, Mr.Sinclair.” She said as she poured a few more inches.

When she left the lounge of the plane, Henry reached forward and downed down his drink in one go, his father immediately went to pour him more. He was a ruthless and powerful man, so was his wife, Mrs.Sinclair. But they adored their only child and son, they did what they did not only to carry on their family’s name and reputation, but to give their son everything he could ever want. However, this life came with sacrifices, he would learn that soon enough.

“Look at me, son.” Mr.Sinclair said in a firm tone, so he did. “I know how hard this must be, I understand. Me and your mother will give you time to heal, but that comes with accepting what you have to do. You are the heir who will keep up the magnificent Sinclair name, you will get into business and you will do your duty with honor, like a good man.”

Henry nods slowly and takes a long drag from his cigarette. “I know, father. I had my fun and now it is time.”

“Very well, my son.” He suddenly snickered to himself. “Two murders, huh? Your heritage cannot be denied. However the ancient sex ritual was a new addition.”

Oh yes, when the events in Hampden heightened Henry went home for a weekend and told his parents everything, every single detail. With a life like theirs, there are not many things that can suprise them. They listened to everything and came up with a solution and a perfect plan that suggests a fake tragedy. It took careful and perfect planning.

He needed someone to snap, his first subject would have been Richard, but then Camilla called him in the middle of the night when Charles had hurt her. This version of the plan was better, he would provoke Charles until he did something stupid, he drove up to Francis’s country house on one weekend and put Francis’s aunts beretta in Charles’s room. He left the door open at the inn’s room and waited for Charles to come. The beretta had 2 bullets and the third would be a fake one that had piglet blood in it. He also gave a bit of drug to everyone without them noticing, he hid a bottle of whisky in Charles’s room with drugs mixed in it. Then the second Richard told him that he is there at the estate and drunk, he knew that the plan was on. He ordered room service and wine, when Camilla went to freshen up, he also put the drugs in her glass of wine. He hoped that Francis and Richard would show up desperate and shaken up, when they did he was pleased that they took big gulps from Camilla’s glass of wine, he needed everyone’s mind fuzzy. He paid attention to their body language that got more slumped by the minute. When Charles busted in the door, it was game time. He was confident, he was a Sinclair for fuck’s sake, he knew self defense like no one and he had reflexes as sharp as a knife, Charles was no competition. The first gunshot to the window and the second to poor Richard’s stomach, he held the gun in his hands now. There were heavy knocks on the door, it was time. He pulled the trigger, he felt the fake bullet hit his temple and explode with the pig blood, he dropped to the floor and tried to stay as still as he could. The others were too shocked and their heads fuzzy. He smiled smugly to himself when he felt the blanket on him, bless Francis. His father’s men came acting like the police and took him out of there, straight to the private plane.

“You will get over it.” His father interrupted his train of thought. “But, you have to know one thing and keep it in your head, always.”

“What is it?” He was desperate for some good advice.

“Henry Winter is dead, it is time for you to be who you really are supposed to be. Henry Sinclair.”

Henry smiled at that, he would never say it out loud but he felt better being Henry Sinclair, his true self.

Henry Winter was someone he used for his Hampden years, Winter was his mother’s maiden name and he put it to good use. He didn’t need anyone recognizing the Sinclair name.However, there was one thing he never planned. Falling in love with a certain twin blonde girl, if this meant falling in love, he wasn’t sure. He felt protective over her, wanted to protect her as long as he could. But how could he lay beside her at night knowing that he was going to leave her? He didn’t mean to hurt her, she was better off without him and Charles, he just hoped he stayed away from her.

His mother joined them in the lounge, as he walked beside her son she caressed his dark hair and she sat beside her husband.

“It will get easier, honey. I know your heart aches for that blonde girl twin, she will get over it too. Just like your friends. What matters is that the plan went perfectly, and now we have you here with us.”

She threw back a few inches of her husband’s scotch and smiled at her family.

“Paris will wash all your troubles away. You will see the wonderful business of our family, get to know some new friends, join us to magnificent balls and parties.” She smirked at him slyly, he knew that smile of hers, he knew what was coming. “And who knows? You might meet a nice sweetheart and hold her close to your heart.”

“Paris does show you true love, son.” His father says and puts his hands on his mother’s, his fingertips touching her wedding band.

“Yeah, sure. I am fine by myself, thank you.” Henry rolled his eyes, the scotch in his head brought out his attitude. His parents shared a knowing look.

There was a heavy silence now, all three of them lost in their own thoughts. Until Laura, their maid, came in and informed them of their schedule.

“The pilot just announced that the plane will land in an hour, a driver will be waiting at the airport and he will be taking you to your apartment.”

“Actually, Laura,” said Mr.Sinclair. “Henry will be taken to his own apartment.” He wrote an address on a piece of paper and gave it to the maid. “Get another driver and give him the address. Thank you, Laura.”

The maid left and Henry gave a peek to his parents who were already looking at him with smug smiles.

“Thank you, father, mother.” He really was grateful, what he needed was his own space, alone with his thoughts. All he wanted was to finally sleep some and then have some good old silence. Which he could never have, his head and brain were always running and thinking. He needed a good book to concentrate on, or maybe if he emptied his mind down to his diary, he could feel relieved. Or perhaps, if only he had Camilla by his side, he could put his stress somewhere else… Whatever, he should just get himself together and flip the page.

“You will feel much better when we arrive.” Mrs.Sinclair stood up and started to leave the lounge. “I will sort the luggages for the landing.” And with that, she left. Leaving father and son, alone.

“There is more to life than books and ancient languages, Henry. Until you settle down, there are always good ways to cope with stress. Like… Beautiful women, eager to please.” Here we go…

“You kn—“ he tried interrupting.

“I know, I know. Not my business, you have your own private life and I know it. But, so you know. The building we own, where you will live in the apartment, has a little section for pleasure. If you want anything or anyone, pick up the phone and you shall have it. So you know.”

“Alright. I will think about it.” He won’t.

Don’t you get him wrong, he liked to have sex. He liked being inside of a woman, feeling her warmth everywhere and holding her close. He liked seeing pleasure consume her body and seeing it on her face. While he was in Hampden he always found a nice girl to fuck, he didn’t use women, he gave them all the pleasure they could want and he put their pleasure in front of his, always. But he was dead to the one woman he felt really hungry for, some whore or anyone for that matter will not do the job. Right now, he just wanted to get to the place he will call his home and rest for a while.

But for now, he can at least close his eyes knowing that Henry Winter is dead, he can now focus on one thing and one thing only.

Being his true self, Henry Sinclair.

When are new fanfics coming? 🤓

Now:))

heyo! if your taking requests, may i request a male y/n x henry? i got some prompts if you'd like to take em! -hunting/picnic date - insomnia night at the farm house (that of course turns into something more than staying up late) - motel holiday (1. yes the motel is one of them moist crusty ones and 2. bunny probably will be there being the annoying third wheel) -risky poker game and or chess (if yk u yk) if you refuse the male y/n thats perfectly fine you can use the prompts for anything!

Hiii, I said once that I do not write male!y/n, but the fact that you took time to give me really good prompts made me change my mind! :)

It might take me quite some time, sorry about that, but I will try my best:))

Thank you🫶

I feel like we don’t talk about this moment enough.

LIKE TINY-TINY BABY (a grown cold manipulative man over six feet with broad shoulders) WAS HUNGRY:c

Imagine him just eating his little soup and pie🤏 (and Richard with his little omelet is also adorable)

My man needed a full few course meal to confess a murder

I love him.

Hey doves! :)

I would be happy to write for TSH characters again now that fall has taken over this goddamn summer.

And I also decided that I want to practice my writing and dedicate more time to it.

But, I am so out of inspiration and I am asking for your help.

All I need is for you to write to me what you would love to read from me! Please please, request something that you have been searching for (scenarios with certain tsh characters, etc.).

I would be very grateful if you did:))

xoxo, Rosemary<3