𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter sixteen; Back to Scotland
" Is that what he believed? "

SEBASTIAN DE POITIERS had been carrying a weight on his shoulders, and when he saw Elspeth sitting in the infirmary, where he had once been laying, this weight multiplied.

"Elle. . ."

Despite herself, a smile graced her bruised features. She held out a hand, beckoning the man closer. He obliged, grabbing it as he sat beside her.

"Hello, Sebastian," She spoke quietly, "Did they hurt you at all?"

His throat was tight but he spoke despite it, "No, I'm alright."

"That's good news," Elspeth smiled, "I heard there's news from the Vatican-- Catherine asked that I rest and heal before I joined any activities."

"Mary and Francis are to be wed," Sebastian said, frowning as Elspeth grinned, "But. . . Henry wishes for her to lay claim to the English throne."

"Oh, Mary," Elspeth spoke sadly, sighing deeply, "I can only hope. . ."

Sebastian knitted his eyebrows as she trailed off.

"What's upsetting you?" Elspeth questioned, scooting closer to him.

He shook his head, holding her hand.

"Sebastian, if something is weighing on you, please," She urged, "Let me carry part of this weight for you."

And Sebastian sighed, casting his eyes down for a long moment before he spoke.

"I can't offer you anything more than you have now," Sebastian spoke quietly, "Not even protection, Elspeth."

"Those men were cruel and wild, like animals," Elspeth spoke strongly, "You cannot blame yourself for anything that happened-- and the worst didn't even come true, Sebastian."

"You don't understand."

He wanted to tell her. Tell her of his mother's wild plans, of her schemes, and how they would only continue to hurt Elspeth.

But he couldn't.

"Then tell me," She tried.

"You'll be marrying down," Sebastian tried, he tried in any way to persuade her-- he wasn't good enough. For a million reasons he wouldn't speak, but a million more he could. "I have nothing, I am nothing."

"You're the man that I am in love with," Elspeth persisted, her hand lingering on his cheek, "You have my heart. You have me. Forever, Sebastian."

He closed his eyes, whether in comfort or defeat or a twisted mixture of the two.

The last thing he wanted was to lose her. Especially because of his mother's wild imagination. He had put her in far too much danger-- the Pagans, the Italians-- so Sebastian De Poitiers decided if he couldn't convince her that he wasn't a good enough man, he would just have to become a better one.

For her. Because Elspeth deserved this, at least.

↬

"None of us will die. It's nonsense."

Elspeth lounged comfortably with her friends in the large window seat of Mary's bed chambers. The girl herself and Kenna had returned, telling them of Nostradamus's words only minutes prior.

"Nostradamus said I'd fall in love with a man with a white mark on his face," Greer continued, "That never happened."

"Have you fallen in love at all?" Lola questioned, "You disappear for hours, where do you go?"

Greer looked down.

"He said I'd never go home again," Aylee spoke quietly, "It haunts me, still."

"That was his intention," Greer said, "Nostradamus likes to scare people. He's the queen's watchdog."

"Well, we can't trust her," Lola said. "Maybe this is her last attempt to keep you from Francis."

"Or she was trying to keep me from Francis to save his life," Mary said. "I don't know if there's any truth to this prophecy, but. . . the Queen and Nostradamus seem to believe what he's saying."

"What do you believe?" Aylee asked, "You said you couldn't sleep for days after you saw Tomas' banner unfurl. And it was a dragon, as Nostradamus predicted."

"The lion and the dragon will fight on a field of poppies," Mary recited.

"The lion being the English that Tomas' soldiers sailed off to confront."

"Sailors. On the sea," Greer sighed, "So where was his field of poppies?"

"You're right," Mary agreed, "But. . . Tomas fought his real battle, the one he fought himself, in the forest."

"There were poppies everywhere at that time, all through the woods."

"Where Tomas was slain. By Francis. And Bash."

"Mary. . ." Elspeth spoke quietly, a chill running down her spine, "The lion isn't the English."

"What?"

"Sebastian. . . he chose a lion to represent himself. The lion was Sebastian, the dragon was Tomas. . . and they fought where poppies bloomed full. . ."

Elspeth's eyes were wide as Mary met hers.

Nostradamus had been right.

↬

Demetre had returned to the castle along with the king and every other able-bodied man that had departed, only to learn of the horrors that came in their absence. He'd been entirely unable to stop thinking of them, so much so he was becoming haunted by his own rogue imagination.

And Elspeth's silence did not help.

He'd greeted her cautiously, and at first glance she seemed. . . like nothing out of the ordinary. But the longer he sat, watching her paint, the longer Elspeth went without a word, the more she re-started her painting, he could see very plainly that she had been affected by the experience with the Count and his men.

"I'm not fond of seeing you like this."

"I can leave if you prefer."

"I never mind seeing you, Petal, I just. . ." Demetre sighed, "I shouldn't have left."

Elspeth set her paintbrush down gently, turning to face the man lounging in a plush armchair, rubbing his forehead with a hand, decorated in heavy golden rings.

"You had no choice-- please don't feel guilty, Sebastian already does," Elspeth sighed, "And he stayed, so there's no assurance that even if you had it would have changed a thing that happened."

"It would have."

He said it with such conviction that Elspeth believed it. This man, Lord Langlois, Slayer of The Grim, would have taken down every intruder if only for her.

She often forgot he was a fabled man, a hunter, not the docile, kind person that watched her paint for hours on end.

"I can't have both of you feeling this way," Elspeth spoke quietly, "Not when I've wound up fine."

"Is that what you told Sebastian?"

She furrowed her brows.

"Is that what he believed?"

"Demetre, what are you--"

"Guards flock to your room every night. You don't travel alone like you used to. Wherever you go, Sebastian or I am always close behind. You haven't dared to ride as of late. Yes, the worst did not happen, and I am happy for this, but, Elspeth. . . you are not unscathed, and you do not have to pretend like you are if you do not wish to."

Her brows furrowed as emotion bloomed in tears, unshed in her eyes. The woman shook her head slowly, before casting her gaze to the ground beside her, unable to watch his face morph into anything softer.

"Petal. . ."

"Thank you, Demetre."

His heart jumped at the softness of her voice.

"Of course, Elspeth."

And in the gentle melody of wind whispering past the castle windows, and the nearly silent footsteps of castle workers, as Elspeth Liens began swirling a paintbrush in already murky water, Demetre Langlois could have sworn this was the moment. The one where he knew he was entirely ruined, because he had never felt this way and was sure he'd never feel this way again, but this was the one woman he could never reach-- but this was shattered.

By a sharp scream.

Elspeth jolted in fear, turning wide-eyed to Demetre who quickly stood, in a very unfamiliar way, hand on the sword at his side already.

"Demetre--"

"Stay close behind, Petal," He instructed quietly, grabbing her arm gently, but surely, as he began inching out of the room. "It's alright."

She followed his instruction without a second thought.

Though, there were no intruders. There were no animals pretending to be men in the castle walls.

There was just a girl, on the stone floor, and a slowly growing pool of blood circling around her light blonde hair.

"Aylee!"

Demetre quickly followed as Elspeth rushed to her friend, the rest of the Scottish women not far behind.

"She must have fallen, we need to get Nostradamus," Elspeth said quickly, grabbing hold of Aylee's hand, smiling when the girl squeezed back weakly, "Lola--"

The girl shook her head.

Elspeth furrowed her brows, looking to Demetre whose eyes were already cast to the ground. She felt her heart pick up speed, looking around at all the sullen faces-- it wasn't over, was it? Aylee could be saved still, right? She was breathing, she would be fine, and Nostradamus would cure her.

"We found her like this," Lola spoke, snapping Elspeth back into reality as Mary and Francis rushed towards them, "They came to us looking for you."

Mary quickly joined the girls, cradling Aylee's face in her hands.

"He said I'd never go home again," Aylee spoke, her voice the most heartbreaking fear.

"Aylee, no. . ."

"Too much blood. . . shed for you," Aylee said shakily, "You-- we must. . . go home now."

And then Aylee's eyes closed for the last time, and Mary set her head gently pack on the floor, before standing, taking rapid steps away as she wiped the blood off of her hands onto her clean dress.

"You were sent from hell," Mary spoke, making Elspeth turn to see Nostradamus the center of Mary's attention, "You are the devil!"

"Come on, Petal."

Elspeth's frantic eyes met Demetre's soft ones, and she did nothing but allow him to help her up, and whisk her away from the body of a childhood friend.

She sat for a long while. Elspeth didn't remember who came and went, or when Demetre had brought her a drink, or when Sebastian had joined her.

"Ellie?"

The girl looked up, furrowing her brows.

"Mary is here," Sebastian said quietly, "Would you like me to stay?"

"That's alright," Elspeth whispered, "I'd like to speak with Mary if that's okay."

Sebastian nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before standing, and nodding to Mary before exiting the room.

The Queen entered slowly, taking a seat on the chaise across from Elspeth before saying the simplest words.

"I'm leaving, and I want you to come with me."

"Leaving?"

"I'm leaving France."

And then Mary explained it all. The prophecies, Aylee's death, and Francis's if she was to marry him. How she loved Francis, so much, that she would leave only to save his life. That she had told their friends, and they agreed it would be easier for Mary to leave on her own.

"But I believe you are more homesick now than I."

Elspeth nodded, wringing her hands.

"It would be too obvious," Elspeth said quietly, "You could leave, say you no longer wish for this alliance. . ."

Elspeth sighed deeply, attempting to center herself.

"To save Francis, you must not marry," Elspeth breathed out, "You cannot go with a company or it will be too suspicious; I will remain behind, we will follow you soon enough, but not now."

Mary nodded, holding Elspeth's hand tightly.

"But you need help," Elspeth said quietly, "You are strong, Mary, but traveling to Scotland on your own. . ."

"I know. . ."

And then Elspeth Liens had the idea that would cause the beginning of the end.

"You must take someone who knows how to survive, in the wilderness, and among the people," Elspeth said quietly, "Someone who could remain in Scotland so as to not face the wrath of the king."

Mary furrowed her brows as Elspeth stood, placing her hand on her heart for a long moment, closing her eyes as if she was asking God himself for counsel on the matter.

"Sebastian will go with you."

"Elle, I could not ask-"

"You two will go ahead, we will follow soon after," Elspeth nodded, "Sebastian and I could remain together, Francis would live, and you will reign-- it's the best way. The only way. Unless Sebastian and I remain here all our lives."

Mary's eyes softened, joining Elspeth and grabbing the woman's hand in her own.

"You will face backlash," Mary said softly, "Your fiance leaving with me will cause talk; others may think you were involved in our leaving. . ."

"I can handle it, Mary."

Mary's lips pressed together in an unreadable expression. But, after only a moment, she tugged Elspeth into a tight hug.

"Keep yourself safe," Mary whispered, holding in her emotions for now, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you even more," Elspeth laughed, tears brimming as she pulled away, "I can send a message to Hans, it will be encrypted so no one but he can read it, he might be able to meet you at the borders."

"Thank you."

"Of course," Elspeth said, and she meant it, "Anything for my friend."

↬

It was early the next morning, Elspeth's emotions were weighing heavily on her, and she wandered the French castle without a destination in mind. Perhaps she would find Demetre, though she didn't feel quite like painting.

She supposed she could go in search of Kenna, though this was becoming increasingly difficult since her newest title.

In the end, Elspeth opted for a lazy stroll around the castle. Who she truly wished to find was long gone by now, and she felt unsure of what her daily activities would consist of until she departed to Scotland as well.

Of course, Elspeth should have known she wouldn't attain peace and quiet today, as the first person that found her was Francis.

"Elspeth!"

The woman paused, turning to face the dauphin running hurriedly down the halls.

"Mary's gone."

Her heart sank.

Of course, Elspeth knew. She knew where Mary was and why she'd gone and why she'd chosen not to speak to Francis about it beforehand.

But Elspeth could not smother the guilt that bloomed from his pained expression.

"And my brother is, too," Francis mumbled almost bitterly.

"They must have gone for a ride--"

"They're gone, Elspeth."

She stood there, unable to form another lie. His eyes bored into her own, perhaps searching for any emotion to show she was just as shaken as he.

And, perhaps her guilt manifested as sadness because before she knew it, Francis was hugging her.

And as Francis held Elspeth tightly, he couldn't help but recall his mother's words only minutes prior.

↬

"The smart choice is to let her make that decision," Catherine said tightly, "You can have another wife-- What of Elspeth?"

"What of Elspeth?" Francis rivaled, "What are you implying, that I marry the woman my brother loves?"

"She is not the one he left with."

Francis shook his head.

"Francis, think reasonably, Elspeth would make a fine wife, she has a rich family, a respected one in Scotland. She is well-mannered and well-tempered, she has been prepared for nobility her entire life, skillful, beautiful, she is a perfect fit."

"But I do not love her, mother, I--"

"You could grow to love her."

"She deserves a man who already does," Francis said surely, "Not one whose heart belongs to another."

"It seems that is already what she has, Francis."

↬

And even though Francis remained steadfast in his refusal to even propose the thought to Elspeth, he couldn't help but hug her a little tighter.

How could Sebastian leave her? A woman he was engaged to for nothing other than love, a woman who was kind as well as smart. And on top of it all, how could Sebastian leave with Mary?

Once again, Francis thought, he and Elspeth found themselves in all too similar situations.