Chapter Text
Fate is a funny thing; fate can mean a lot to different people. Destiny, for one, the way someone believes something happened for a reason. Religious fate for another, the way someone believes that there is a higher power out there. Perhaps there is some truth to fate, reincarnation, the thought of a superior power controlling it all, or maybe, just maybe, there was a higher power that gave two star-crossed lovers a choice. Maybe this higher power being knew they would choose the lives of humans over their own, or how miracles so powerful that no one even knew it happened before it even happened, so powerful that even the divine entity couldn’t notice. All that remains of those two lovers is the love they shared, so much love that it could transcend lifetimes. Always destined to meet again, no matter where or when they are.
———
February 5, 1978
It was a cold and cloudy afternoon when a baby girl was born, her eyes bright as the blue sky on a clear day. Some of the baby's hair is already growing on top of the newborn baby was golden hair as if the heavens graced the girl with a kiss on the crown of her head. The girl did not cry or fuss, but only reached towards her mother.
“Oh, love, she’s beautiful,” A man said as he handed his daughter over to his wife. “What are we going to name her?”
The woman took her baby close and smiled tiredly. “Hmm, she’s going to be a brave, smart, and strong girl, I feel it,” She spoke so softly, her voice spoke of so much motherly love. “What about Angela? After your great-grandmother,”
The father smiled brightly and nodded his head as he reached out to look at his small, beautiful daughter and wife. “It’s perfect love, Angela Zara Fell, it’s perfect,” The new father said, testing how the name sounded out loud. The man hugged his wife and pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, “You did amazing. Love rest now,“ The father spoke to his wife as he took his daughter back into his arms to let his wife rest. He looked back at his daughter and smiled.
———
April 18, 1978
In the U.K., it was rare to get a clear, warm day; it wasn’t too hot nor too cold. It was in the early hours of the morning when a baby girl was born with a full head of auburn hair, which was more on the reddish side of the spectrum than brown. The baby cried out from leaving the warmth of her mother. She wanted to go back.
“Damn, she vera’ took after ye dinnae she?” A man raised his voice, spoke with a Scottish accent as he talked, and he peered over his newly born daughter wrapped up in blankets as his wife held her.
“Well, your genetics clearly dinnae show through, aye? Besides, your hair is an ugly blonde colur,” The woman spoke her voice thick with a Scottish accent, the same with her husband, her hair red as fire as she held her daughter. “She’s just a wee thing, isn’t she? I think she’s a Chloey,”
“Oi I don’t even get a word in for our daughter’s name? Like Chloe?” The man spoke out, a little annoyed at this.
“DON'T Oi me! I'm the one who birthed her!” The mother spoke up a little aggressively towards this. After all, she just gave birth to their daughter; surely that gives her the right to name the child? “It’s Chloe-Y! With a y!” The woman said louder than was needed, causing the baby to cry. “Ah, look at what you did! Making her cry!”
“Wot I did!? You be the one yelling now!” The man spoke to his wife, taking his daughter from her hold, trying to quiet her as she opened her eyes; they were so striking. “Oi look at her eyes, they're amber,” The father said as he carefully moved the baby to show his wife, as the baby fussed.
“Bloody hell, her eyes are almost yellow, how can that be? I've got hazel eyes, and you got the same.” The mother was shocked by the eyes of her newly born daughter, they were almost yellow but with a more golden color.
“Ye dinnae knew, but she’s just a wee thing, but I know she's gonna be a fierce girl when she’s older,” The man spoke as he rocked his daughter to quiet down. He looked towards his wife, she gently nodded her head and pulled the blankets of the hospital cot a little higher to sleep.
———
The Fell family is a middle-class family, but even then, they weren’t that well off. Both parents of Angela Zara Fell always worked; they never knew when to stop working, always working overtime, even if it was unpaid. Poor little Angela, their daughter, always waited patiently for her parents; of course, they were loving and caring, and showed up when it mattered. Her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Tracy, is known as Madame Tracy on Thursdays. Unknown to Angela and to her parents, Madame Tracy used to participate in “adult” activities but stopped when the Fell family asked her to watch over little Angela while they worked. Mrs. Tracy gladly agreed to help watch over darling Angela.
Angela when she was younger, often begged Mrs. Tracy to take her to the local bookshop, in which Mrs. Tracy often let her go because across the street she would visit a man by the name of Shadwell, who worked at a vintage hunting store, she often brought him some homemade sweets and food as Angela wandered around the little bookshop as the owner often helped her pick out books. At a young age, she found out she loved to read, to get lost in whatever fantasy world, learn about history and historical figures, and to read about anything as long as it was interesting. It helped her fill the void of her parents always working.
“Mr. M, do you have Alice Through the Needle's Eye in yet?” A six-year-old Angela Fell asked the bookshop owner who was behind the counter. Angela couldn’t remember his name but knew it was an odd one; the man was older with white facial hair and wrinkles. He often had an almost mean resting look on his face, but smiled brightly when he saw Angela.
“Oh! My best customer! But sorry, Miss Fell, but I was barely able to put in an order for the books a week ago. They should be delivered soon,” The bookshop owner spoke to the six-year-old Angela. She was messing with her golden ringlet curls. “But I’ll let you borrow a book meanwhile as they ship,” The older man said, coming from behind the counter, reaching over to a nearby shelf.
It was Anne of Green Gables, Angela happily took the book, for Angela, being a six-year-old girl, was highly proficient in reading, but she often liked Mrs. Tracy reading to her when it was a longer book, much like the one that Mr. M just gave her. “Really!? You’ll let me borrow this one?”
The man smiled and went back behind the counter. “Of course, I think you’ll love the book,” He watched Angela smile brightly as she nodded her head enthusiastically.
“Thank you, Mr. M!” Angela said, her little voice filled with joy as she ran out of the bookshop, being careful as she crossed the street to where Mrs. Tracy was to show her the book Mr. M had just let her borrow.
———
The Anthony family moved to London when Chloey was at the bright age of four, when both her parents were offered very high positions in the company they both worked in. The family became a middle-class family higher up in the middle-class scale. Chloey’s parents were always out of the country, halfway across the world doing god knows what, but they made money, and that’s what mattered to them. Chloey lived in comfort, a nice house in London, but hardly saw her parents. They, of course, didn’t leave her completely alone: a nanny, a few house cleaners, money for food, toys, necessities, etc. Chloey knew her parents cared about her, just not enough to attend birthdays, school plays, and parent meetings, which were all the things that they missed, but that normal parents would have remembered. For Chloey’s sixth birthday, her parents couldn’t make it, so they tried to make it up to her by getting her a puppy, a small black Labrador retriever. Of course, Chloey was over the moon about the puppy and named him Bentley, and often played and took him on walks with her nanny three steps behind her and Bentley. Chloey could go wherever and whenever she wanted, and she did. Most outlookers would assume that Chloey was spoiled beyond a normal child her age, but often found herself at old stores selling antiques, family-owned stores, thrift stores, and what Chloey loved the most, her absolute store, possibly the best store known in Britain (to a six-year-old Chloey) was this old family-owned record shop owned by the Service family.
“Ah! My favorite little redheaded music listener! A young man spoke from behind the counter. It was the son of the woman who originally started the record shop. The young man never minded that Chloey brought her puppy into the shop with her; he found it adorable how she would take the puppy everywhere she went. Besides, how could you be mad at the two of them?
“Hi, Mr. Service! Got anything neew?”
Chloey spoke as she stood on her tiptoes at the strangely high store counter. Her auburn hair was a wavy mess, but somehow looked neat for a young girl. Chloey loved coming to “The Small Back Room,” which was a type of shop that was warm and inviting with a lot of life and people.
The young Service man laughed at the girl’s curiosity, and he took a look at the shelf behind him. He grabbed a small rectangular square. “I was going through some boxes and found something you might like,” He handed the small cassette box to Chloey and gestured towards one of the listening booths towards the back of the shop.
Chloey smiled so brightly and grabbed the cassette and ran towards the listening booth, leaving Bentley with Service as the little puppy lay down and waited for Chloey to return. The box read out on the side, “A Night At The Opera -Queen.” Chloey hurriedly inserted the cassette into the player. Her eyes briefly looked over the record player, which was on top of the console that housed the cassette player. She plugged the headphones into the player. “Death on Two Legs” played through the headphones; it was pure magic to Chloey, and she felt her chest flutter in joy. The piano and what Chloey presumed was bass playing sounded so addictive; the vocals felt real. Even if Chloey didn’t suffer the same struggles or pain that was sung in the song, a six-year-old Chloey knew what was happening in the song. Her parents were oddly similar to what the song was talking about; no, she wasn’t being abused, just neglected, but Chloey felt so connected to the song. The rest of the songs that were played were just as great, beautiful, and each song Chloey wanted to hear more of. Just as the last few riffs of “God Save the Queen” played, she stood there in disbelief. In all honesty, Queen felt like the holy grail of music that Chloey had ever heard, the best of the best. Chloey took out the cassette and gently placed it back into its box. A knock was at the booth door.
“I really didn’t think you would listen to the whole thing as soon as I gave it to you, bloody brilliant, isn’t it?” Service said as Chloey opened the booth, she was grinning ear to ear. Service brought over Bentley, who was at Chloey’s feet.
“Brilliant!? It’s bloody madly brilliant! How much do I owe you?” Chloey happily spoke as she searched her little pockets for two pence in her pocket.
“It’s on me, consider it a very late birthday gift,” Service admitted to the girl. Chloey looked like she could explode from joy. She hugged Service’s legs and smiled brightly at him.
“Thank you, thank you!” Chloey babbled on as she picked up Bentley’s leash, and she continued to thank Service. Chloey placed the cassette box into the front pocket of her overalls, which she wore over a yellow shirt, with her auburn hair fizzled out in wild directions. “Queen is bloody amazing!” Chloey added as she ran out of the record shop. She ran over to a nearby shop where her nanny was shopping for the week and was blabbing on about the new cassette in her pocket and how amazing it was.