𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter sixty-six; The Truth Comes Out
" You were never supposed to carry the world on your back, only ever explore it. "

"I'VE NO INTEREST in your daughter's dowry."

Demetre was still attempting to get used to the kind expressions of Rowan and Malcolm. It almost unnerved him, and it didn't help that every time he looked at Rowan, he heard Elspeth's words of 'honey catches more flies than vinegar'.

"Of course," Malcolm said, shuffling his papers, "And yet, it will be transferred to you once the two of you are wed."

"Sir, I. . ."

"I understand you are the sole member of House Langlois," Malcolm stated, "I'm sure you are taken care of financially, Demetre. But listen, if you are with my Ellie because you love her, you understand her free spirit. Her determined nature."

Demetre only nodded.

"Then accept her dowry. Place it into a new account, one under your name," Malcolm continued, "But only have Elspeth withdraw or deposit funds into it."

"Her account?"

"Not legally," Malcolm shrugged, glancing at Rowan, "But in every other meaning. Yes."

"No bankers would question her?"

"I'm not sure how French bankers do business," Rowan laughed lightly, "But I've never had an issue with such a thing."

Demetre stared at them in awe and wonder.

"I wanted my wife to be with me because she wanted to," Malcolm said gently, "Not because she, and everything she owned, belonged to me. . . Of course, there will be things to be shared. But it hurts no one for women to posses their own property. Their own funds and lives. They, too, are people."

Demetre wondered why the world could not adopt that way of thinking. Perhaps men in power knew if given the same chances, they would all be outsmarted by the women who worked in the dark.

Even if he alone couldn't change the world, Demetre was glad Malcolm Liens was trying to change his small part of it.

"I couldn't agree more," Demetre finally said.

Malcom smiled, tidying up the paperwork and passing it over to Demetre.

"If you have any questions, please write us, but most information pertaining to Elspeth's dowry and the Duchy are enclosed here," Malcolm informed, looking to his wife, "We have one more thing to give you, Demetre."

Rowan moved quickly, crossing the room and opening a sideboard to collect a small package. She held it gently, with great care, before passing it to Demetre.

"A family heirloom," Rowan explained, "Of course, you may have your own ring you wish to give to Ellie, but now you've got options. This was my mother's before she passed; Hans wanted to saved for Elspeth's betrothed. He brought it when he travelled to France to meet that Sebastian boy, but he never could give it away. I suppose Hans knew before any of us did. Even the two of you."

Demetre felt his heart tighten, looking down at the small box. He cracked it open, and knew without a doubt it would be Elspeth's. It wasn't gaudy or obnoxious; but it was polished. Expensive.

A sturdy band engraved with swirling details all leading to a shimmering center set stone.

"I've known for quite a long time," Demetre said quietly, without much thought.

  Because loving Elspeth didn't require thought. In the same way breathing didn't. It came easy to Demetre. He took to it instantly.

  Some days he wondered if he was made for this. Not for her, but for loving her. If every hardship he had gone through, every nightmare and lonely night, was only ever meant to make him strong enough to protect her. Only to make his shadow taller enough to offer her shelter, too.

  If he was made into a monster so that the monster could care for her. So that the monster could understand her.

  "For what it's worth, Demetre, we will be honored to call you a son."

  Demetre's head snapped up at the word son. His eyes locking onto Malcolm and Rowan as the man wrapped an arm around his wife lovingly.

  Son.

  It made his chest ache and his throat burn.

  He hadn't been a son in over a decade.

  He had never been a son to be proud of.

  He'd hardly been a thing to be proud of.

  "And this isn't meant to be pressure," Rowan said quickly, noting Demetre's paling complexion, "Whenever the two of you agree to move forward with the courtship— we only wanted to give you the ring while you were here."

  "Of course," Malcolm said quickly, nodding along, "And we understand your wedding— whenever it is— will likely be in France, we've known to expect that since Ellie was chosen as Mary's lady."

  The overwhelming accommodation was suffocating Demetre.

  He didn't know how to exist in this. It took him weeks to grow accustomed to Elspeth's comfort, even just as a friend, but now, an outpouring of openness rendered him speechless.

  Demetre was comfortable with Fraser and Douglas arguing. With them rejecting the mere idea of him marrying Elspeth. He knew how to cope, how to act, how to compartmentalize.

  He had no idea what to do here.

↬

The living room had gotten far less stuffy once unspoken words had finally been shared.

Douglas had found a bottle of scotch, Fraser had lost his overcoat, and Elspeth kicked her feet up across the sofa.

Things were looser.

"What is your home like, Fraser?"

The man sipped his drink, glancing at Elspeth as she picked at the dirt on her gown.

"Why don't you care to ask Douglas the same?"

"Because I've been to Douglas's home," Elspeth retorted, turning her head to face Fraser, "I visited him in Paris."

"True story, brother," Douglas pointed, "It was a grand time-- you should visit as well. I'll show you the same hospitality as Elspeth, swear it."

"I doubt I'd enjoy that," Fraser sighed, "My home is quiet."

"Quiet?"

"Closed off from main roads. We have an expanse of land to ourselves. I have a garden."

"A garden?" Elspeth raised a brow.

"Like. . ." Douglas attempted to stifle a laugh, "With vegetables?"

"Yes," Fraser said dully, "With vegetables. We have chickens, as well. My wife has a dog."

"Will we ever meet this wife of yours?" Douglas sighed, "I mean, truly, Fraser, how do we know if she exists at all?"

"You must take my word for it, I suppose."

"Perhaps she's a criminal on the run," Elspeth whispered to Douglas.

"Or hideous."

Elspeth smacked his arm, and Douglas winced.

"Or, she's a recluse," Douglas attempted again.

"She is my wife. Take care of your speech," Fraser said, clearing growing tense.

"Alright, well. . . what's she look like?" Elspeth said, sitting upright, "Her hair color, the color of her eyes. . . something. Anything."

Elspeth propped her chin on her fist, leaning forward eagerly.

Maybe it was the scotch, or Fraser's strange nostalgia in the moment, but his face softened, glancing away from his siblings.

"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is earthy and strong. Her hair is dark, the tightest curls you'd ever imagine, each one a spiral spring. Her eyes are rich and brown, like scotch when the sun beams through it. . . her skin is honeyed and golden. Warm and deep. If she told me one day she was a forest nymph from a fairytale, I would believe her."

  "I thought I was meant to be the poet, brother."

  Elspeth smacked Douglas's arm again, and the man winced but sealed his lips.

"She sounds beautiful," Elspeth said gently.

"She is," Fraser agreed quietly, "I feel as though I'm dreaming when I wake to her beside me."

"And her name?"

"Willow."

"Like the tree?"

Fraser glared at Douglas.

"I only wonder why we couldn't meet her," Douglas admitted, "She sounds perfectly normal."

Fraser stared for a moment, before turning away from them.

"Some things are better left unsaid, little brother."

"As a poet and a gossip, I strongly disagree," Douglas said pointedly, "I mean, it's not as if she's some traitor to the country, right?"

Fraser did not say anything. He stared out of the window unflinchingly.

"We're not a very judgemental family," Douglas muttered, "Not much would have us upset. . . Unless you're embarrassed of us."

"I could never be," Fraser said softly, "I am more proud to be a Liens than anything else."

Douglas opened his mouth to argue, but Elspeth rested a hand on his arm as she stood.

"You know what I think is interesting," Elspeth said casually, "You spoke about soul ties, Fraser."

"Hm."

"Did you know pagans have a tradition when they are wed, where they bind their hands together with ribbon or cord?"

Fraser's shoulders tensed just barely.

"And where are you learning of paganism, Elspeth?" He said tightly, "You shouldn't meddle with such things."

"Being a lady of the court gives me far too much time to hear such gossip," She said easily, "I wonder if soul ties are also a pagan belief."

Of course, Elspeth Liens would never dream of telling her brother about the Blood Wood and what transpired inside of it. She'd never admit that she had gone hunting for the Blood Cult, or that being engaged to Sebastian meant learning more than she expected to about the different kinds of paganism and their beliefs.

  She had truly never heard the term 'soul tie' before, but it seemed to fit all too snugly into the other concepts of the religion.

"I'm unsure. We are all Catholic, after all."

But Elspeth Liens was beginning to put things together she had never thought about before.

"I've met Protestants in France," Elspeth said, "Never thought of them differently."

"Me, too," Douglas said, surprising both siblings, "Things are turning sour in Paris. . . the religious scuffle that is happening in horrible."

Fraser turned a soft surprise on his features.

"Turning away from our faith--"

"I'm not," Douglas said quickly, "I just. . . Perhaps it's our parents. But I can't seem to care about what or how my neighbors worship. I only care for their conversation, and when they deliver me leftovers."

"I agree, for the most part," Elspeth said, cracking a smile, "I can't say my neighbors spare me leftovers, but, regardless. . ."

Douglas laughed, shaking his head.

And then he looked to Fraser, who appeared as though he was about to explode.

"Are you alright?"

"She's not Catholic. That's why."

"What--"

"Willow. My wife. She's not Catholic. That's why I gave up knighthood. That's why we moved out into the countryside, why I declined the title of Duke and Duchess for both of us. I love her, and I wanted to protect her."

"Fraser--"

"I thought you would hate me for it."

Elspeth stood as Douglas did, swarming Fraser as he choked on his own emotions.

Elspeth couldn't remember the last time she saw Fraser cry. If she had ever seen him cry. But here he was now.

And he was letting them hug him. Letting his siblings bear his troubles along with him.

"I never told Hans," He admitted through tears, "He never met her, because I was too much of a coward. Too scared."

"Fraser—"

  "My entire life, I have been praised for my honor. My honesty, my calculations— I was meant to be noble. To be level-headed—"

  Elspeth hugged him tighter as another sob ripped through Fraser Liens.
  
  "You were only ever meant to be Fraser," Elspeth said softly, "You were never supposed to carry the world on your back, only ever explore it."

  Fraser relaxed into his siblings arms as he cried.

  "I never told Hans my poetry was failing," Douglas said after a moment, "Too scared to disappoint him."

  Fraser glanced up, his shock-filled eyes were rimmed with red puffy skin.

  "I thought you had sold copies of your poetry collections?"

  "Not a single one."

  Douglas smiled sadly.

  Fraser tugged his brother into another tight hug and Elspeth stood back to watch.

There would be many things she'd never be able to tell Hans. For starters, that she would be marrying Demetre.

He would never get to sit with her husband or attend her wedding. He would never meet her children or see her return to Scotland.

But Elspeth realized she might have stayed in France if Hans was alive.

She might not have felt that ache to return home. That necessity to visit the house she was born in.

Fraser may never have admitted why he'd distanced himself. Douglas would've never told the truth about his poetry.

And the three of them would not have ever grown closer.

Elspeth would forever have a hole in her heart because Hans Liens had died too young.

But she would not let her other brothers become lost because of it.

"We should visit him."

Fraser and Douglas turned to Elspeth at her soft words, and perhaps for the first time saw the girl behind the rebellion.

A girl few had seen indeed.

The youngest Liens. Elspeth, darling daughter, with unruly blonde locks and permanently flushed cheeks. Her lips were downturned, arms hugging herself, but she looked at peace. Sad, but not lost.

"I haven't been," Elspeth continued, "Demetre and I went to the orchard but I couldn't. Not yet."

Douglas stepped forward, outstretching a hand.

"Together?"

Elspeth twisted her lips to the side, nodding as her heart ached terribly in her chest.

She accepted Douglas's hand, beckoning Fraser over as well. The man obeyed, wrapping a gentle arm around his sister's shoulders.

They knew where Hans would be, though none had been yet. It was where every Liens had been buried as long as the Dukedom had been theirs. In a grand cemetery, just beyond the orchard, hidden in flowers and towering willow trees.

And so they went.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
Demetre's interaction with healthy
parents makes me heart BREAK