TW: discussions of abuse & suicide

EVELYN "EVY" HERON had no idea what she was getting herself into when she aligned with the Peaky Blinders, but she knew that it could not be half as bad as what Evy had experienced running with her father.

She had heard stories about the Shelby clan - they were Romani after all. Rumors swirled about Thomas's cold, hardened exterior and Arthur's short-tempered nature, and the fact that they often killed men without mercy or a second chance. But she had never come face-to-face with them.

It was her mother, Ioana Lovell, that made sure Evy never encountered the lifestyle the Shelby's secured and that her father craved.

Her daughter's peace was Ioana's motivation, her reason for constant traveling across the rolling hills of England. They were tucked away in the safety of their encampments, hidden by tall woods and comforted by pluming smoke fires. All in the arms of Ioana's own kin.

Evy always remembered her mother a happy woman. She had a smile that would meet her brown eyes, that brightened her long, blonde hair and a laughter that was infections. Even with the bruises and cuts that ran up her arms and her slender neck, Ioana never broke. Her warmth filtered through, radiating a sharp aura that attracted more than just the physical world around her. At times, Evy could even see the wisps and apparitions of the spirits dancing alongside her wake, harnessing her energy to stay afloat on the other side.

But her light heart only went so far. Danior Heron had no room for free-spirits and lustful nature. He detested Ioana's lack of ambition, her comfortability with her own culture and the backlash they faced.

He had always wanted power, and when the Shelby's rose to the occasion to secure Birmingham, Danior was furious. They had been the first Romani clan to take on the vicious world by force, capturing it under their boots and rising within the ranks. He had blamed Evy's mother and her wildness for keeping him trapped, always on the move and forever transient.

Their relationship was becoming tumultuous, bound together only by their one child and lack of connections.

The abuse had been steady, appearing in spurts when Danior took to the bottle after Evy was born. But as time continued and their travels became more frequent, the anger followed in step. Emotional taunts turned to physical slaps, broken bottles into weapons of defense. Evy's first vivid memories of her father remained coaxed by outrages, the beatings and the screams still haunted her visions.

But it never reached Evy, not while her mother was around.

As a child, Evy never had her own bed. Because when the sun set behind the thick branches of the woods and her aunties huddled the children to their caravans, Ioana made sure Evy was secure and safe, locked away with her cousins as Danior ascended. Tucked into the mattress, Cousin Esmeralda by her side, Ioana would speak of foreign lands, lush with abundant rose bushes and birds that sang lullabies until they were both fast asleep.

It was then that Ioana's smile would drop, making her retreat from the sacred space of protection to her own sinful surroundings to face her husband's wrath.

Danior made sure to keep her mother miserable as punishment. Ioana, as strong as she was, couldn't take it anymore.

Evy remembered that day well. She had been reaching her teenage years but was still young enough to appreciate her mother's affections. The night had grown late, and her mother tired. She carted Evy and Esmeralda off to bed, recounting a story not of prosperous land but of love.

It was a story about a young woman who fell in love with a man whose strength was consuming, whose fierce determination allured her mind to the point of suffocation. The man had an eye for power, talked of wealth and fame at the tips of his fingers. It was intoxicating and blinding, but it came with a price. Violence and war followed them around every corner, friends turned to enemies, and death was a frequent visitor. Relief for the young woman came only in her dreams, so much so that she wished to sleep forever.

"This story is terrible," Emerald pointed out, giggling as she pulled the cotton blanket stiffly around her chin.

Her mother smiled, though this time it didn't reach her eyes. It was a sad smile that would imprint into Evy's mind for the rest of her life.

"Well," Ioana said, shifting her weight on the bed, "Just remember this then: Jekh dilo kerel but dile hai but dile keren dilimata."

One madman makes many madmen, and many madmen make madness.

Ioana left the caravan that night, never returning to tell more tales to her daughter. Instead, Ioana crossed the clearing and into the riverbank with Danior's pistol to search for the endless sleep she had been longing for so long. The spirits welcomed Ioana with open arms.

Danior made sure that the time for grief was fleeting, though in Evy's heart it would always be steady, rumbling with each pulse. She cried hard the first night, and it was then that she experienced her father's rage firsthand.

She had been punished for wanting her mother, and so soon after her death she had been forced to reconcile quietly.

Danior found celebration in his newfound freedom and thus Evy's introduction into the realm of gangsters began.

After ousting Ioana's family from his life, Danior secured his position to begin the takeover. It began slowly; her father and his kin began waging wars with neighboring families. Danior and his kin were ruthless, killing men and destroying their women. There was only one clan war that Danior lost in the early years, and it was by the Lees.

It was through this brutal war that Evelyn ended up pregnant by an unknown man with her son. She was only nineteen years old.

After the war with the Lees was over, Ioana appeared in Evy's dream, warning her to leave and protect her unborn child.

Evy had welcomed her embrace, the woman's long blonde hair, looking almost white against her light dress as it cascaded over her bare shoulders.

"Wars are brewing," Ioana murmured, touching Evy's cheek. Her hand felt like rich velvet against her skin, causing a warmth to spread through face. She was heaven's angel, her guardian as Evy walked through life, "Prepare yourself. Your life will not be easy, but peace will come. I've seen it. There's a man...he is distant but willing."

"What kind of man?" Evy questioned. But Ioana only shook her head.

"Protect yourself," Ioana mused, her voice sounding like music in her ears, "Remember what I told you that night. Dile keren dilimata. Many madmen create madness."

"I won't forget," Evy replied, nodding as her mother disintegrated from her mind. She awoke the next morning, her cycle late and breasts swollen.

Her mother had always had a connection to the spirit realm, and it seemed that she was passing that burden onto her only child.

Protect yourself.

Evy began slowly plotting her plan to rid herself of her father. But when the Great War broke out shortly after, she found their entire world had changed even more so. Danior and his men had a new motivation: defeating the Germans. Her father and his men enlisted to fight, leaving Evy and a few remaining women behind.

James took his time coming into this world. Birthing him was as painful and slow as his conception, but perhaps he was already aware of the coming years. He didn't need to rush, because life was no longer kind. James's small body was so pure and innocent against the backdrop of a global war, which was brutally violent and unforgiving. Every part of her wished that her father would never return as she stared down at her son's amber eyes.

After little James' birth, she had promised herself that she would never let her son experience the pain and suffering she had endured growing up. No, James would be free and happy, taken care of in the way she wasn't.

Evy went four years without seeing or hearing from her father. It was the only time she had ever felt true peace, as she was free from his unwavering grasp and watchful eyes. She raised James to be kind and forgiving, friendly but strong enough to hold his own ground. He would be a leader, one that could show mercy but would one day kill when needed.

But despite all this, Evy was unable to uphold that promise she made to herself, and it nearly destroyed her every day.

Her father returned to the camp, but he was not the same man who had left. Whatever little kindness Danior had harbored prior to the war was gone. The man that returned was a hard shell, unemotional and cruel. He wished to inflict pain onto everything and everyone -- he wanted vengeance. The war had created a bigger monster. There were no more games, no more waging wars against clans. Danior wanted his hometown of Birmingham, and he would get it.

He turned to his daughter, using Evy the way that he used her mother to get out his anger and frustration. But she followed her mother's footsteps. She made sure his hands never struck her in front of little James.

But unlike her mother, Evy didn't scream. She didn't cry. No, with each blow, Evy digested those emotions and transformed them into motivation to break free. She knew in her soul that his day would come. Patience became her virtue.

Evy was planning her escape when she had gotten word that her father was waging a takedown against the Peaky Blinders. The declaration of the fight geared her to make the jump into the unknown.

When night fell, Evy packed her things, wrapping James's sleeping body around her own, tucking him tight against her skirts. She said goodbye to no one -- the only remnants she had been at the encampment was the indent of dirt on which she slept.

She told no one where she was going, but it didn't take her father long to find out. She discovered that many families refused to provide her sanctuary out of fear from her father, and in turn fed him information on where she was. Evy knew that the Lees were the only family that would provide her a safe space, but they had been impossible to track down. In fact, she was in search of the Lees when her father's men caught up to her and her son.

Oh, Evy fought hard that day. She channeled her mother's spirit then, lashing the men with her knife as they approached.

It was the hardest thing she had ever done. She left a few bruises and cuts that were deep enough to leave scares. They had threatened to do vile things to her in front of her son, but she knew it was all game. Despite bad blood, she knew her father would be furious if any of his men disrespected her in that way. Honor was still upheld, even now.

But one woman could not withstand five men. As she laid, battered and bruised on the harsh grass that yellowed under the hot sun, they revealed to her that Danior wanted James, and it was the only way for her to survive. James was his protege - his property. The family business was his destiny. If she didn't give him up, they would kill her, and her son would be left without a mother. Evy could not do that to him - she could not leave her child parentless like her mother did to her.

She had no choice but to give up her son in return for his safety.

She would never forget the way her son cried as they tore him from her arms. His screams would forever haunt her dreams, but as she had done so many times before, she bottled it close. She kept his cries close to her hear and she kept going. His cries continued to be vivid in her mind, even as his face faded from her memory.

Peace will come. I've seen it. There's a man...he is distant but willing.

The search began. She would find the man that her mother had prophesied so many years ago. The man who was distant but willing.

Then Evy would be reunited with her son.