𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter seventy-five; A Guard's Duty
" We cannot expect them to stay the same forever. "

THE FOLLOWING MORNING was full of paperwork. It was sobering for Elspeth, to write letters and inform families of their deceased, to offer her condolences though she had never met the people she was writing to. Then to follow up the act of sending these off with searching through replacements for the guards.

  It made her sick, but she had to do it. Because Elspeth believed it was her duty. Not only because she was Lady Langlois, but because she was the one who had been there. Not Demetre. She had been head of house. She had been in charge the night they were killed. So it was her duty to notify their families and find replacements.

"Peter seems promising," Elspeth said, perking up as she read the paper, "Young, athletic; his father recently became ill, so he searches for a job to provide for his mother and younger siblings."

"How young?" Demetre questioned, peering up from his own paper, "I'll not choose anyone under twenty."

"He's twenty and one," Elspeth informed, "Why wouldn't you hire someone younger?"

"Because these men are to risk their lives," Demetre said, leaning back in his armchair, "I'll not ask a child to do that."

Elspeth pursed her lips, nodding understandingly as she sorted Peter's paper to the side.

"He should be the last one, then," She informed, clearing her throat, "I'll draft up--"

"I will draft up letters to them," Demetre said, standing, "You will take a break from all of this."

"Demetre. . ."

"Between planning for the Estate, the attack last night, and this, I can see it weighing on you," He said gently, rounding the desk and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Go. Take a walk with Hugo and Alex. See Mary. Or Kenna. Or Louis; spend time with your friends, Petal. You need it."

"Do you not?"

"I will rest when I am dead," Demetre said, with a hint of humor in his voice, "Truly, you've helped with the heaviest parts. This is easy. Which is why I want you to use it as a break from everything."

Elspeth sighed, knowing there was no use in arguing. Not when she wanted to see Mary, anyway.

"Alright," She said gently, "I'll see Mary. . . I may leave Alex and Hugo here. . . I do not know that she'll be relaxed with. . . unfamiliar men nearby."

"Of course," Demetre said without hesitation, "We have other eyes in the castle, and I have no doubt Hugo and Alex would be appreciative of the morning off. Go, I'll come find you later today."

Elspeth kissed him in passing, before departing from the study and straight out to find Mary Stuart.

Which proved to be a bit of a struggle; she wasn't at any of her usual spaces, but when Elspeth heard a servant whispering about the queen moving chambers, Elspeth's feet picked up.

"Elspeth."

"Mary," Elspeth breathed, entering the girl's old chambers, "I couldn't find you, I was worried."

"I'm alright."

Elspeth frowned at the words. Because Mary looked very far from alright. She was wearing another high-necked gown, and she was wringing her hands at her waist.

Not to mention the scene of a married woman moving back into her own chambers was a telltale sign.

"You cannot share what you saw last night--"

"Mary," Elspeth said softly, "We're friends, are we not?"

"We weren't. For a long while."

"We weren't," Elspeth whispered, "And though things may have changed, you must know in situations like this. . . I wouldn't turn my back on you."

"Does Demetre know?"

"Yes," Elspeth admitted, "Our wing was attacked. I recounted what happened, including my sending guards to you. And that I had been too late. . . he put the rest together on his own."

Mary glanced away, her hands tightening around themselves.

"Your wing was attacked?"

"Three of our guards were killed, none others were harmed," Elspeth informed, "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Mary turned back, her eyes meeting Elspeth's.

"I. . ."

"Think on it," Elspeth said after a moment, "Demetre will assist Francis in capturing the men. I will assist you in any way you need."

And Mary couldn't say anything. Because her throat was tight with emotion. Because Elspeth Liens had been just out of reach for so long, the idea that something this terrible was what brought her back made Mary's emotions rise even more than they already had.

"Oh, sorry," Elspeth mumbled, stepping out of the way as a new wave of servants entered with belongings, "Do you want me to grab you something to eat? I was about to head that way."

"No, I'm alright. Thank you."

"I can stay with you a while longer, if you'd like?" Elspeth offered, her brows knitting.

"No, that's alright," Mary said tightly, her eyes burning with unshed tears, "I'm rather alright on my own."

"Okay," Elspeth said quietly, frowning, "I'll stop by again later if you'll be here?"

"I'm unsure."

"Okay," Elspeth whispered, "Mary, just. . . Know that I am here. Please."

"I know."

Elspeth nodded, wanting nothing more than to pull Mary into a hug. But she remained reserved, offering the woman a small smile, before departing from the room.

↬

Demetre Langlois had just finished up his three offer letters for the men he and Elspeth had chosen to replace the guards that had passed the night prior. He had also instructed the courier that they must be delivered with haste; the idea of a lean guard made Demetre's skin crawl in unease.

He knew he wouldn't sleep well until the new men were taken in, trained, and put into rotation.

"Lord Langlois," Hugo called, knocking on the door as he opened it, "Lady Kenna is requesting a meeting with you."

"I thought I told you and Alex to take the day off?" Demetre said, raising a brow.

"I have the day off," Hugo informed, "I didn't know that meant I had to leave the wing and ignore guards calling for someone to ask the Lord if they should allow a visitor."

"Touche," Demetre noted, "Alex is resting though, isn't he?"

"He's been out to a pub since he woke this morning," Hugo said tightly, "He believes Lady Elspeth to be disappointed with him."

"If I knew he'd be so emotional over her I'd never have assigned him to this position," Demetre sighed, rubbing his brow tensely, "See that he returns safely by nightfall?"

"Of course, my Lord," Hugo said, "And, um, the Lady Kenna?"

"Oh, yes, send her in," Demetre sighed, waving a hand, "She's a friend of Elspeth's."

"Not a friend of yours?"

"An ally, not quite a friend," Demetre said.

Hugo only gave him a knowing look before departing to fetch the visitor.

Demetre sighed, leaning back in the large chair. What could Kenna want that would warrant a visit to this wing of the castle? No one did business here. The only people that had ever approached the wing were those of the Royal family, or those seeking the spilling of blood.

But Kenna was neither. So Demetre wondered what it could be.

Not to mention the girl had never taken much interest in him outside of his relationship with Elspeth. Demetre didn't mind it, but it did make her visit all the stranger.

"Lord Langlois," Kenna entered quickly, shutting the door behind herself.

"Kenna," Demetre greeted, raising a brow, "You seem. . . out of breath."

"One of your men has been named and taken into custody."

Demetre's entire body went still. His blood ran cold.

He knew Francis was combing through people thoroughly, having each one interrogated until they at least named someone they knew as a Protestant. Taking each of those men to the cells to do the same.

So many had already been collected that there were lines of them in the courtyards, despite the winter chill approaching quickly.

And now, someone of House Langlois had been taken.

Demetre combed through his mind, his memories; he hadn't cared all too much, so he had never asked his men to announce their faiths. Never thought it would become an issue. And now he was trying to build a schedule of when he had seen his men last; which person could have been caught up in the sea of men being pushed into cells, slammed into shackles, tortured until speaking.

If Demetre knew one thing for certain, it was that no man or woman employed by him would ever dare cross House Langlois.

"Who?"

"A man named Alex--"

"Thank you," Demetre said, pushing himself to stand, attempting to form a plan as he moved, "I have another favor to ask of you."

Kenna furrowed her brows but nodded.

"Elspeth," Demetre continued, tossing his cloak over his shoulders, "She'll notice his absence. Alex is one of her personal guards; if she discovers where he is, she'll panic. With everything she has been subjected to, I'd rather she remain unaware that Alex sat in a cell for a few hours."

"You don't think she should know?"

"I think Alex will be home soon enough that there is no use putting more on my w-- on Elspeth's plate," Demetre said, correcting himself quickly enough that he hoped Kenna wouldn't question it. "If I send her out with only Hugo she'll pry. But if a friend of hers requests. . . lunch with her company, then she'll be none the wiser."

Kenna shifted as Demetre opened the door.

"Kenna, I've no plans to make it a habit of lying to her," He said honestly, "Nor do I wish to involve you in these sorts of affairs in the future. I know the two of you have always been close friends, and it may unnerve you to lie to her, but please believe me when I say I only have her best interest at heart. She has been through terror after terror and the last thing I want is her believing we are not safe even inside the castle."

Kenna nodded, following Demetre out of the study and down the hallway quickly.

"You truly love her, don't you?"

"Do I have to scream it from the tower for people to start believing me?" Demetre asked genuinely, looking to Kenna who cracked a smile.

"It would be a good start."

Demetre scoffed, glancing at her again.

"Why tell me about Alex?"

"Because he's at Elspeth's side quite often," Kenna informed, "And I know Ellie well enough to know she can't be near someone for more than a day without making a friend out of them."

"She's done just that."

"Of course she has," Kenna nodded, "So that's why I told you. Because Alex is your man, but I knew it would be Elspeth that would be hurt if he froze out in that courtyard, waiting to be questioned."

And for the first time, Demetre understood just a little bit what it meant to have a friend.

Kenna split off about halfway to the throne room. Presumably to find Elspeth and keep her busy whilst Demetre retrieved Alex as quickly as possible.

He felt his heart beating. His blood rushed. Demetre wasn't sure the last time he had been so worried about a soul other than Elspeth. Or why he was so worried over Alex.

Perhaps because he was the youngest man in his guard. Or because Elspeth had taken a liking to him and Hugo.

Or it was because the Monster of France wasn't a monster at all, and cared about a man younger than himself, sitting in the cold when he was innocent of anything nefarious.

"One of my men has been lumped into a cell," Demetre announced as he entered the room, "I realize it must have been a mistake."

Francis glanced up, waving off the man he was speaking to as Demetre closed in.

"He was named by--"

"I was unaware of his faith," Demetre said, his resolve tightening quickly, "Alex was on duty during the attack. Guarding Elspeth personally; he was uninvolved."

Demetre halted in front of Francis, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, shoulders square and regal. It was enough for Francis to understand that Demetre had not come here as his advisor or childhood friend. He had approached the King as Lord Langlois.

"He will be questioned alongside the rest of them."

Demetre raised a brow, his anger bubbling up. That fickle temper he had tried so hard to hide away, to stick in the darkest recess of his mind; anger did little but worsen his reputation. Hurt both him and his wife.

But he couldn't contain it. Not now, not here. Not with someone's life on the line.

"Francis, I fear you've mistaken my words for a question," He said, "You will release Alex into my custody. He is a part of House Langlois, Your Majesty, and we handle our own affairs, as you are well aware."

Francis raised a brow, eyes settling on Demetre.

"We were attacked. You were attacked. You know how it felt to return hearing what had transpired; how it felt to rush to the woman you love, not knowing what had become of them."

"I will personally find the assassins that came after your wife," Demetre said lowly, "But you will release Alex, or I will do it myself."

"Don't do this."

"It is you that's doing this to us, Francis."

Francis faltered for a second, but Demetre caught it.

"Not even Henry dared involve himself in Langlois House business," Demetre continued, "Before or after it was passed to me. We serve you, and yet we remain our own council. Do you wish to break that now? When it is you and I who rule these respective powers?"

Demetre felt something cold creep into his anger. Something ugly and unfamiliar and. . . freezing. It made his skin crawl and some sort of lump form in his chest.

Because he remembered, even as a younger man, having hope. Not hope for a bright future or a wife, no, these things he had never expected.

But he had expected the day that Francis would be king. The day Demetre wouldn't have to survive Henry anymore. He dreamed of a day when his friend would be on the throne Henry once sat upon because it would surely be better. It would be peace, and comradery; they would help each other.

Francis would never cast him out into the woods.

But now, staring into Francis's eyes, Demetre swore he was a child again. And it was not Francis, but it was Henry, staring down at him, telling him about the Grim.

That it wasn't Francis refusing to free his man, but it was Henry shoving him into the back of a carriage.

The cold was biting but the castle was warm.

"He will be questioned. Along with every other person that was named in every questioning--"

"Torture. You mean to torture a man that is just barely twenty and two," Demetre said, his voice raising, slowly filling the room, "A man who is entirely innocent, who endured the attack both Mary and Elspeth did, the same attack we were not present for because we were finishing your business! Cleaning up your mess!"

"You were not so sure it was my mess the night it emerged," Francis said, equally as serious, but far quieter. "You were ready to get on that horse yourself, Demetre, but I didn't let you--"

"You should have," Demetre all but roared, "It wouldn't have ruined me the same way it now ruins you."

Francis's anger briefly dissipated. He stared into the roiling fury of Demetre Langlois, and suddenly, they were just Francis and Demetre again. Friends. Brothers.

"Perhaps," Francis said quieter, "Perhaps it would've ruined you differently."

It was Demetre's turn to falter. To pause, for his anger to go out like the tide, leaving room for other thoughts, more coherent emotions.

They were both angry. At the situation. At themselves. At Henry. And yet they stood here, hurling harmful words at each other.

"I can't free him," Francis said, almost as if it was an apology.

Demetre's face fell flat, taking a step back.

"You are King. You can do as you please."

Demetre wondered if this was how Elspeth had felt. Watching Mary slip into someone she no longer knew. A person growing to fit the crown they were born to.

The coldness, that bite of winter, it was reminiscent of the snowy Blood Wood Demetre had been thrown into. But not because the forest itself had been cold.

Because he had been sad.

Just as he was now.

Before either man could say another thing, the doors flung open again. And it wasn't a guard, or Sebastian with more to report, or even a servant.

It was Elspeth Liens.

"Kenna!"

And Kenna was on her heels.

"I'm sorry," Kenna said quickly, noting Demetre's not-so-subtle frustration rise, "I didn't--"

Guards hurried in behind them, rattling off apologies for letting the girl barge in, but Francis only raised a hand, making them still in their places.

"Where is he?" Elspeth said, halting mere feet from Demetre and Francis, "Where is Alex?"

It was then the men noticed Elspeth Liens wasn't her normal shade of pink anger. She wasn't clad in battle armor, prepared to fight off injustice with a raising voice and stony expression.

Elspeth Liens was crying.

"Petal--"

"Do not speak as if you didn't try to bide my time and keep this from me," Elspeth raised her voice, pointing a finger at Demetre, "The last time I spoke to Alex was arguing, and I cannot bear the idea that those memories are what he's living in, sitting in that dingy cell."

"He was named by the other men," Francis urged, "He must be questioned, Elspeth, you know why better than anyone--"

"Alex was inside my chambers during the attack."

The room stilled.

"What?"

Elspeth brushed off Demetre's deep voice, the word that settled over all of them.

"Even so, we cannot be sure he didn't have involvement in letting the assassins inside the castle prior to--"

"He was at my side the entire day," Elspeth continued, refusing to shrink despite the tears running down her cheeks, "And when the fighting started, he was already in my chambers. He had no involvement, and if anything comes up, it is my head you can have alongside his."

"Elspeth," Demetre said quietly, approaching his wife quickly.

She only stared at Francis. Her gaze didn't falter once, not even as Demetre grabbed her arm gently, or Kenna closed in on the conversation.

"I don't want your head," Francis said quietly, his resolve softening for the first time that day, "You are innocent. You were attacked."

"But I would wager my life on his innocence. That is how sure I am of it."

"Would you wager Mary's?"

It was a cheap attack and they both knew it.

"He was with me the entire day," Elspeth said, deathly quiet, "He is one of my personal guards. I trust him with my life every day I live in this castle. I trust him implicitly, Francis. I won't let him die out there in the cold, shackled like a prisoner, just because he is of a different faith than you or I. Would you? Would you truly condemn him because he has attended a Protestant service instead of Mass? Tell me now, so that I know what kind of King I am living under, and what kind of man I call my friend."

And perhaps something in her words struck Francis. Or her determination despite her tears. Perhaps it was that Elspeth had been his friend, long before she had a reason to be. Or that she had been Mary's friend once. Perhaps it was his emotions, or hers, or something else entirely, but suddenly Francis was waving a hand. He was whispering to a guard. He was speaking without hearing his own words.

Suddenly, men were set to free Alex.

"Go," Francis said, nodding to Elspeth, "He will be freed."

Elspeth didn't say thank you. She didn't so much as acknowledge his words past following the guard he had spoken to.

And she didn't regard Demetre either.

But that did little to deter him.

The man followed her, as she followed the guard. Like a looming shadow, Demetre walked so closely behind Elspeth that the front of his cloak occasionally brushed the back of hers.

He didn't falter, only walked in stride with her. Through the castle and out of the doors, down the stairs, and around archways until they entered a wide courtyard, filled with freezing prisoners, shackled together.

He followed as she broke away from the guard, rushing across the courtyard to the familiar man, curled into himself. Demetre stood as Elspeth crouched, unhooking her cloak and swinging it over Alex's shoulders.

Demetre loomed as the guard unlocked Alex's bindings. He only stepped forward as Elspeth tried to help Alex up.

In one swift move, Demetre's cloak, the cloak of the Grim, was resting around Elspeth's shoulders. She glanced up at him, and just from his eyes, Elspeth knew he was far away. Somewhere dark and concerning, and yet he still cared.

He cared in tying the cloak around her. He cared in bending down to lift Alex.

The walk back to the Langlois wing was silent.

The guards at the front were in a flurry at their approach, and once Hugo saw them it was all over. He was in a whirlwind, shouting orders as Demetre entered a guest chamber, placing the man on the neatly made bed.

There was hot food, blankets, steaming cups-- Alex was being swaddled like an infant and he was barely coherent past his chattering lips.

But the first thing he breathed out was an apology.

"What are you sorry for, son?" Hugo said, pressing the back of his hand to Alex's forehead as he lifted a cup to his lips, "I am sorry-- you shouldn't have been taken into that--"

"I'm sorry," Alex repeated, lifting his eyes, "Lady Elspeth."

She let out a sad sigh, tightening Demetre's cloak around her body. She left her husband's comfort, to take a seat on the bed beside Hugo.

"Oh, Alex," She breathed out, a lump rising in her throat, "You've done nothing wrong. You are only ever trying to serve House Langlois to the best of your abilities. Whether it be obeying orders from Lord Langlois, or protecting me-- and you do a wonderful job. I am lucky to have you and Hugo at my side."

Elspeth forced a wobbly smile as she felt her eyes burn, nodding assuringly as Alex took a sip of the warm liquid.

"And yet, I have failed you," He said, "I am so terribly sorry, Lady Elspeth."

She pursed her lips, nearly reaching out to grab his hand but stopping herself before she could.

Elspeth hadn't been able to place it for a good long while. Everyone else had made sense. Kenna was her best friend; the sister she never had. Francis had become a close friend, Sebastian as well. Louis, Greer, even Catherine; they had been, or had become, a tightly woven circle around Elspeth.

Hugo had been included for a long time. And at some point, Alex had become interwoven in that net of friends and family, but Elspeth never quite knew where to place him.

But the moment she heard that he had been arrested for questioning in the plot that Alex himself had tried to fight against, Elspeth realized her new title came with much more than anticipated.

She was responsible for people. For their lives and deaths.

Elspeth had never been responsible for much before. The youngest child, the only daughter; there was no expectation to make a name for herself, to prove she could hold a higher title, because she was never forced to.

But now, here she sat, responsible for every person House Langlois employed. And soon, she would be responsible for an entire Duchy.

"Rest, Alex," She said quietly, offering him another weak smile, "Rest knowing I hold no anger toward you. I never did."

Elspeth gave him a soft nod, before standing and retreating to the dark shadow of Demetre.

He said nothing, still. Demetre only wrapped an arm around her, and gently guided her out of the room, his hand slipping down to the divot of her waist, walking her out in front of him.

She let him lead. For the first time surrendered to his demeanor; to the looming quiet man that had been called so cruel, sometimes only because he was reserved.

Demetre leaned over her, gently pushing open the door to his chambers, and guiding her inside. Elspeth took a couple of steps into the room, her mind swirling too quickly for her to hold onto anything in particular.

Demetre closed the door behind them. He toed off his boots, before gently taking the cloak from Elspeth's shoulders and hanging it by the door. She glanced up as the weight left and he turned to face her again.

He looked tired and wary. As if his indifference was hiding a storm of his own.

She looked at him with her own exhaustion. Hopeless and hopeful at the same time; angry and pleased.

"Alex was in your chambers?"

"When the intruders entered the wing, yes," Elspeth said quietly as he took slow, deliberate steps toward her, "He woke me to tell me of the attack. Stayed inside at the door, while Hugo stayed outside."

He halted centimeters from her, his presence engulfing her whole. But it wasn't threatening or angry. It was warm. Comforting. Like being wrapped up in the feeling of home; despite his clear distaste of the information, the idea of anyone else in Elspeth's chambers, he lifted a hand and cradled her jaw, running his thumb over the soft skin of her face.

"My emotions triumph over my mind every day," Elspeth said softly, "I fear someday soon, it will cost. Perhaps it already has."

"Burying them away is what will cost," He said thickly.

"I shouldn't have been so hard on Alex," She said quietly, "I shouldn't have. . . I don't know. . ."

"Tell me."

Elspeth lifted her hand, holding Demetre's wrist tightly.

"Will we become changed here, too?" She asked, "I know I am not the same as I arrived. But I do not wish. . . I do not wish to become someone you can't recognize."

"You will never be," He said, his brow pinching in concern, "Petal, what are you on about?"

"I have watched someone I have known since a child become a stranger," Elspeth whispered, "I. . . am caught between wanting to rekindle a friendship, or remember why it changed in the first place."

"Mary didn't want to see you?"

"She didn't turn me away," Elspeth said, her eyes burning unshed tears, "I know she is going through something. . . unspeakably horrible. I. . . I don't harbor any resentment toward her for not wishing for my company in this time, but, Demetre, I. . . It is unsettling knowing that we stand somewhere entirely different now. That she is my queen more than she is my friend. I hardly know. . . how to act. . ."

"I felt the same way about Francis today," Demetre admitted quietly, "He is changed, too. Changing, at the very least."

"We cannot expect them to stay the same forever."

"No," He agreed, wiping the first tear that ran down Elspeth's cheek, "But we cannot stay the same either."

Perhaps that was it. The truth that both of them had skated around for too long.

They were two creatures of comfort. Of habit and consistency, stuck in their ways. Elspeth to her rebellion, Demetre to his mask. And no matter how much they protested, the world continued to change. To throw them off balance, to toss a new challenge their way.

But in the end, it never mattered how long spring protested. Because the first frost always came.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
AHHHHHH THE PROPHECY FROM TTPD
IS DEMETRE'S THEME SONG OH MY GOD
this literally just clicked as i was writing this
chapter and I need all of you to know asap
because it's like. hits the nail on the head.