Dreams for most people were nothing. Just a person with an overactive imagination, nothing from a dream ever meant anything.

Unless you were a child with gypsy blood running through your veins.

A child like Milly Dorothea Gold.

The Romany people; or rather just the Golds, had used dreams as a way of communicating with their passed loved ones and sometimes to see how certain things would plan out. But as fate was a fickle thing, these things didn't always work out in anyones favour. As the tides change with the moon, as do the ways things happen with each passing day.

This phenomenon in the shape of a dream had happened twice before, where her body would become overheated to a point of pure exhaustion and illness, where she would be cooped up in bed for days on end until something inside of her finally broke. Though, that night was rather different. It didn't start off like it usually would, she didn't come home from work a sweaty and blithering mess- no, she just returned with a splitting headache and an urge to shove fingers into peoples eyes if they made too much noise.

The violence wasn't necessarily unusual, she had always been a little more vicious than her siblings but they were always just idle threats. No one ever expected her to act upon them, and she hadn't— so far... but it was the tone of voice that she had used that made her sisters fearful.

When Milly had finally found moment where her brain was quiet and not even a mouse made a squeak, she found herself beginning to slowly drift off into a painless sleep...

Or so she thought.

Usually, the dreams she had were peaceful, of sunshine filled days and the feeling of sand between her feet but this? This was something else.

Something demonic.

Her eyes scanned the area, unable to focus on anything of use. The fields were bare, burnt and scorched ground surrounded her, the fires had been recent. The heat was fading, but still there.

The one thing that was still ablaze was a scarecrow, with a melting toy gun strapped to its chest. It reminded her somewhat of Thomas Shelby, the remnants of a black suit, eaten away by flames and the peaked hat that seemed to be relatively untouched—

Whatever had happened wasn't a warning for the Golds, but their momentary employers.

The absence of live brought dread to her, her body lurching forward without warning. As if someone had just barged past her- and they did.

A man with a hooked nose, and a funny looking hat. As she focused on the man, she hadn't noticed her surroundings change, no longer was she stood in a field, but rather a square.

A few abandoned stalls were still full of goods, meats- vegetables— it was all still there.

Another man came into view, but this one she recognised. It was Thomas, and he didn't look like he was ready for whatever was about to happen. She could see, and almost feel his anticipation for something bad- like the bad omen of death following men around like a bad habit.

She was the omen of death, but of course she didn't know it yet.

Before she could call out, gunfire cut her off- making her swallow her words and hide behind a wall. It was then, that the man with the hooked nose made sense. He was the man who had been tormenting the Shelby's for months. He was the one that Arthur Shelby had a bullet written for.

Luca Changretta seemed to feel a presence behind him the minute Milly stepped out from her spot, he spun on his heels, cocking the gun but saw nothing.

Instead of continuing to mess with a man who couldn't see her, she made her way up the rickety steps towards the occupied houses. As she peered through windows, she could see people cowering in the corners- innocent people fearing for their lives. Afraid of stray bullets that could shred through them like scissors to paper.

Thomas was where she hoped he'd be, in the enclosed stairwell- preparing himself with shotguns and... something else, not physical, but mental. It was- the first time she had ever seen something quite like it and she was momentarily dazed by the warm hues evaporating from him like water from a kettle.

"Thomas- what in the—" she was cut off by his head flying up, those piercing blue eyes staring right at her soul.

"The fuck are you doing here, Gold?! Tryna' get your tits blown off?" The Birmingham native chastised, stepping close- his first attempt to grab her arm failed.

Though he could hear and see her, he wasn't able to touch her. His hand flew through her as though it was running through water. The action was effortless, but the fear that contained those once angry blue eyes was almost comical.

The big, bad gangster- scared of a girl who he couldn't touch. Or, was he scared of the rumours he had heard about the Gold girl who could dream something so real, so vivid, that it became real?

"So it's true, then?" His accusing words hit her like a prodding finger to her chest.

Her shoulders shrugged. She wasn't sure what he had heard, nor the conclusion his mind had drawn up about things that were heard on the grapevines. Not agreeing nor disagreeing was the safer option.

"You just need to—" she cut herself off, or rather two bullets that blitzed through her stomach did.

No blood, no pain, it was as though it hadn't even happened.

The Milly that was in her cot was affected by the bullets, a shrill cry escaped her small body, causing Bonnie to run to her aid. When he arrived, he saw her curled up in a ball- arms crossed over her stomach. Her body radiating heat enough to warm up a whole house—

"She's fine, we just need to cool her—"
"Do no such thing! You could kill her." Esmeralda cut off her brother with her words, and a shove.

If anyone had done anything, something bad could've happened. It was best if they all let fate take its course, to avoid all the unnecessary touching and prodding.

"They're surrounding us, tell me— what do I do?" Thomas pleaded, though his voice remained stoic, borderline emotionless.

His eyes returned to their cold origins, and for a second she wondered if they had ever been warm.

She couldn't think of why he was asking her what to do, she hated guns- the mere thought of them angered her. But, she did have an advantage that no one else had. No one, but Thomas Shelby could see nor hear her.

"How did you know this was going to happen? You seem far too prepared." Milly countered.

Thomas nodded his head, loading the gun that was in his hand. To lie to a woman he wasn't sure how much she could see, could be a bad mistake, and mistakes cost lives. He remained quiet for a moment, enough time for Milly to look through the window- no one was there, but they were closing in.

"Polly arranged it. It was our idea from the beginning. Have them think that she's betrayed me, have my own family think that- and everything falls into my open hands. That was how I knew they'd follow me from the hospital. Which is why I chose to come here."

So she wasn't the only one who had done what they needed to do to survive, to barter with the upper echelons was a dangerous game, but if anyone was to do it-it'd be Polly Gray. In that moment, she finally knew why her father was so smitten with her- even if he hadn't done anything obvious for her to gain that idea.

"No more questions, Milly. You need to tell me what to do."

Since the screams had ceased, Esmeralda had taken up guard in Millys section. Her back rested against the cot that she slept in, a notebook in her hand and one of Millys broken pencils sat between her fingers.

Never had Esmeralda ever heard such fluent sentences coming from someone who was sound asleep, but it must've meant something. In what felt like only two minutes, she had mumbled 'Thomas' far too many times for anyone sane. Gun and bullet were the next two most popular words from her, so whatever it was- it was important.

"I think it's best if Nicolette and Josette ride to the Shelby's. Whatever-" she pointed to her sister, "this is, it involves them, too."

Aberama, was at first, reluctant to let his two youngest ride out to Watery Lane, but he knew the ramifications that could arise if they didn't listen to what floated out of Millys mouth. Instead of using his words, he motioned his head for the two to move from camp, Josette was the first on horseback, whilst Nicolette hung back for a moment.

"I'll be bringing her back some bread pudding, and custard if I can find any."

With that, the two were out of sight, all that could be heard was the heavy horse hooves against the solid ground. The waiting game had begun, against everyone's wishes.

Despite being a godless bunch, for the first time they all, including Aberama, prayed to a God they didn't believe in- for something, comfort maybe. For Bonnie, he wanted to swap places with his little sister, for Esmeralda, she wanted answers and Aberama wanted this all to end. He was reliving one of the worst times in his life and he wanted it to end.

The sooner, the better.

"Your instincts will lead you to victory, but be wary of those lurking behind the blue and beige."

Her statement had only lead to an onslaught of questions that flooded Thomas' mind, and he needed to focus. If he was to trust his instincts, he needed a clear mind.

Everything happened for a reason, both Milly and Thomas knew that.

"You're dying, aren't you?" Thomas asked, his voice low enough for no one but her to hear.

She laughed, one of those witches cackles, knowing full well that no one but the man with the troubled eyes would hear her. She wished she was, it would've been better what she was currently experiencing.

"No closer am I to death than I am to life, Thomas."

An illusive answer wasn't what she was going for, but she wasn't entirely sure. No one had ever been certain if they were dying, it wasn't an easily measurable feat, plus- who knew what tomorrow was to bring?

Before either of them knew it, the Italians were advancing and Thomas had a plan already in motion, but to be wary of the blue and beige was still a thought on his mind. Until it clicked.

As they had both ran through bed sheets, of various shades of blue and beige, he knew that was what he had to be wary of. It blocked not only his vision but Lucas too, if he timed it right- he'd be able to shoot at least one of them and make haste.

"On your left, you have—"

Milly was cut off by blue eyes glaring at her, cutting her soul into pieces.

"Such a sour git. I don't have to be helping you Thomas, but I feel as though you should be given a fair chance." Who was she kidding, she had an ulterior motive, always had done, this was just another way to secure what she wanted.

"Where the crimson flows, outshined by rubies and diamonds—" Milly continued, unable to stop the words from coming out of her mouth, "doe eyes open for the very first time."

It took a minute for Milly to realise what she had just said. Lizzie was pregnant, of course she was! Why else would she have been so motherly towards her, why—

"Shoot where you see no shadow and you will be victorious."

Slowly Thomas turned on his heels, and pointed a cocked gun towards her head. Before she had any time to react, a single shot was fired.

Shooting up out of the bed as though she had been electrocuted, Milly struggled to catch her breath. By the time she had, the dry heaving started. Esmeralda had jumped up off of the floor, positioning herself behind her little sister, pulling her hair away from her face.

As Bonnie walked in, Milly finally emptied the contents of her stomach all over his shoes. Though he didn't flinch, instead he shook his foot to the side and handed her a cup of water.

"Has she said anything yet?" Aberama asked, his two children that were conscious and not vacantly staring off into the distance shook their heads.

That had yet to come.

Within seconds the water was gone, the back of her hand used to wipe away the remnants. It took her a further five minutes before she started to talk, and talk was pushing it to its furthest limit.

"Shot— Tommy— he fucking shot me—"