Middle of the end.
Sep. 13th, 2008 08:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faded_laceEverything same as before.
The sun was rising by the time Niles finally gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t changed, hadn’t even moved much since he woke up back at home, and only now that he was asleep was Dragomir able to hold him. Dragomir knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not after everything that had happened, but at least now he could hold on to Niles, reassure himself that Niles really was all right—physically, anyway.
If Julian hadn’t…if it had been Niles…Niles would have been the one who… Dragomir’s mind was still racing with all the possible outcomes; the what ifs and if onlys were always what kept him from sleeping. However, the fact of the matter was that Julian was dead and that he’d died to save Niles. And for that, Dragomir knew he owed Julian everything, but somehow he still couldn’t really bring himself to grieve. His relief and gratitude were still too overwhelming to really acknowledge Julian’s sacrifice. Besides, right now, Dragomir knew he had to concentrate on Niles and helping him to pull though.
Niles awoke slowly and in discrete sections; he became aware, first, of the sound of breathing, and then, after a while, the feeling of warm breath against his neck. His mind was blank, and he thought nothing as he continued to come into consciousness, feeling afternoon sun wash over his eyelids, smelling the familiar scent of home and of Dragomir. He felt nothing, and slowly, he let his eyes flutter open and drifted more into wakefulness. He was greeted with the sight of Dragomir, holding him close, a worried expression on his features, and then all of a sudden, everything came rushing back to him, and he dissolved into tears, falling forward into Dragomir, completely limp. It was all just too much, he couldn't even remember how he was feeling now, everything was all mixed up in his head and his heart, and he just cried, unable to do anything else.
Dragomir swallowed, unsure of what to say and whether anything he said could even make a difference. At least Niles wasn’t pushing him away…maybe just by holding him, Dragomir could help, even if it was only a little bit. “Niles…” Dragomir ventured after a moment or so, though he was still unsure of what exactly he should do. “It’s going to be all right… Julian…he…he wouldn’t want to see you cry…” Dragomir bit his lip and cast his glance down, wondering what right he really had to say anything about Julian.
At the mention of Julian, Niles began to cry harder, his body trembling as his sobs grew louder and harder, out of control. More than anything, now, he was left with the heavy feeling of guilt that Julian had died for him, and if it hadn't been for him, Julian would still be alive. If he had died, Julian would still be alive. Shaking against Dragomir's chest, he sniffed, finding his voice, though it wavered and cracked with his emotional fit. "If I had died... Julian... he'd still... I wish it had been me, instead of him!" Niles hated how people always got hurt because of him, Dragomir and Julian both, and the guilt was overwhelming, weighing heavily on his heart now that he would never even be able to apologize to Julian. He wished he could go back, he wished he could do it again and take the bullet instead, so that Julian would still have a chance to live.
“Don’t say that!” Dragomir said quickly, gripping Niles tightly as if afraid of Niles’s wish coming true and losing him forever. “If it had been you—Niles, if things had been different—!” Dragomir didn’t even want to continue. It was exactly what he’d been thinking about while Niles slept. If Julian hadn’t done what he had…if Niles hadn’t made it, Dragomir didn’t think he could have kept going. Niles was everything to him. Dragomir took a shaky breath and looked into Niles’s eyes carefully. “Me and Julian…we would have… Julian did what he did because he loved you. He wanted you to live. So don’t even think about that! I couldn’t imagine living without you, and I bet Julian felt the same.” Dragomir turned away, still chewing on his lip. “Niles…if you had died…” tears filled his eyes at the very thought of such an outcome. “We wouldn’t…Julian and I couldn’t have forgiven ourselves. Please don’t think about dying on me…and try and live for him.”
"Why?" Niles sobbed, the word falling from his lips even before he could think. "Why me? I don't want the people I care about to die!" He didn't even know what he was saying now, it was as if his words were bypassing his brain and coming straight from his heart. "I wish no one loved me again, like before... even if-- even if it was terrible, at least-- at least no one I loved died!" He was feeling dizzy again, nauseated, but he knew what he said was the truth. "I wish no one loved me!"
“Niles…” Dragomir gulped, “you don’t mean that…” he looked down and pulled Niles a little closer. “Even if that’s how you feel… I’m still going to love you. And I’m still here with you. I’m not going to die, so you have to stay alive and stay with me too, okay?” Dragomir looked back at Niles sniffed back his tears. “Please… I love you Niles… I know it’s difficult…but Julian didn’t give up his life so that you could wish you died instead. Julian wanted you to live, and I need you to keep going because I love you.”
Because I love you. That was what Julian had said, too, as to why he had taken the bullet... "Because I love you." The words made Niles' gut wrench and his heart knot, and he shook his head violently, pushing away from Dragomir and sitting up only to collapse against the headboard. "I don't want..." he choked, trembling weakly. "I don't want you to die... I don't want anything else to happen... because someone loves..." If love meant always making sacrifices, Niles couldn't stand the thought of Dragomir meeting Julian's fate, too. It was too terrible, and he collapsed back down into a heap on the bed, his sobs become almost shrieks of agony.
“Niles!” Dragomir sat up as well and moved next to Niles again, unwilling to allow him to withdraw completely as he had the day before. He couldn’t let Niles torture himself over what had happened…somehow he had to help him. “I’m not going to die.” Dragomir said firmly, raising his voice so that Niles could hear what he said and moving almost on top of him so that Niles would have to look at him. “It’s not going to happen—I’m never going to leave you.” Then, without thinking, Dragomir leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Niles’s lips, hoping that somehow, it would help Niles to believe him.
Niles' eyes widened when he felt Dragomir's lips against his own, and his tears slowed for a moment only to return full force a second later. Breaking the kiss, he collapsed forward into Dragomir's arms, sobs once again controlling his body. "Dragomir..." he gasped, clinging onto Dragomir as if his life depended on it, "I—I love you so much... please... don't ever leave me... I love you, Dragomir..." He realized now that, no matter what, Dragomir was what was most important to him, as were the other people he cared about, and if he was in the same situation as Julian had been, he would have given his life, just as Julian did, to save those he loved. "Dragomir..." he sobbed again, his voice muffled in Dragomir's clothes, "I love you..."
“I love you too,” Dragomir breathed, relived that Niles was back to himself. “I’m always going to be here for you, Niles.” He murmured, pulling Niles a little closer and placing a kiss on his head. “I…I know it’s difficult to accept…” Dragomir said after a moment, “but I think Julian wouldn’t want it any other way. And I…I’m just so glad that you’re safe. Niles…you mean everything to me.” Gently, Dragomir tilted Niles’s head up and placed another soft kiss to his lips lovingly.
Niles didn't want the kiss to end; for some reason, being with Dragomir was making him somehow feel more safe, more stable. The guilt, though still notably present, was fading from the front of his mind, and he was able to relax in Dragomir's embrace, his breath calming, his tears slowing. As they pulled apart, he looked up into Dragomir's eyes, sniffing and wiping at his face with his sleeves. "I... I'm going to live and be happy for Julian... but... but..." he looked down again, trying to fight back tears once more, though this time, they were quiet tears of sorrow. "But... I'm going to miss him so much... Dragomir... I can't believe he's gone..."
“Yeah…” Dragomir agreed. “I can’t believe it either…it’s just…” He looked down and bit his lip again, tightening his hold on Niles. “I just keep thinking that I could have lost you instead…” Dragomir looked up at Niles once again and smiled slightly. “I’m just so grateful…I can’t even…It just hasn’t sunk in that he’s gone.”
Niles gave up the fight, and tears streamed down his cheeks once more, soft but steady tears at the thought of his best friend and all the things they had done together and all the things they would never have the chance to do. "I... I really am grateful... I just wish... I wish there could have been some other way..." He swallowed, wiping at his eyes only to have more tears flow forth. "I just... I can't believe I didn't know... know that he... he was in love with me..." It really was a terrible burden to bear, knowing now how much grief he must have given Julian, how inconsiderate he was to his friend's feelings. Still, he knew the only thing he could do now would be to remember Julian and live his life to the fullest, because Julian had given his away for him...
Leaning back against Dragomir again, Niles hiccuped into his chest. "I... I guess I'll have to tell everyone... that he's gone..." He sniffed again, worrying just at the thought of it. How could he possibly say what had happened, how could he possibly tell of how brave Julian had been, how it had been all his fault that Julian was dead in the first place? "I'll have to tell Nicephore, and them..." Pulling back again, he looked up at Dragomir pathetically. "How am I going to do it, Dragomir?"
“I don’t know…I’ll go with you, though, if you want me to be there…” He offered, unsure of what he could really do to help other than offer his support. He felt…rather disconnected from all of them, but he definitely wanted to be available for Niles, and he was willing to do anything to help him get through. Still, while he wanted to help Niles, Dragomir couldn’t think about what was to be done for Julian, but rather only what could be done about his murderer. He narrowed his eyes and looked out across the room darkly, knowing he should mourn but finding it difficult. Niles was right, really…Julian shouldn’t have had to die, and for that, Donavan would have to pay.
"Maybe," Niles agreed, uncertain about the whole concept, uncertain if he'd really be able to do it. "I just wish... I just wish there had been some other way..." He was being stupid now, he knew; Julian was dead and there was nothing he could do about it now, but still, if he could somehow wish Julian back to life... but that was stupid to think about, too, and he knew it. He couldn't dwell on Julian's death, the best he could do would be to remember him and live for him. Still, he wished there was something he could do, something about the injustice of it all... but really, what could he do? So he cried into Dragomir's chest, because that seemed like the only course of action right now.
"Niles,” Dragomir said slowly, uncertain as to whether or not he really wanted to continue, unsure if now was really an appropriate time to even be thinking about revenge, “He should be avenged.” Dragomir said it, then looked away, chewing at his lip. “I should have been there with you both when…when it happened… And Donavan got away. I should have been able to kill him then. I wish I had killed him a long time ago…but I have to now. I hate that my involvement with him has hurt you so much…” Dragomir looked back at Niles and clasped him tightly. He would kill Donavan, one way or another.
Niles looked up at Dragomir blearily, sniffing. "Dragomir... I don't want you to get hurt..." he protested weakly, but even as he spoke, he lacked any conviction whatsoever. The truth of the matter was, he wanted Dragomir to kill Donavan, wanted it badly. Donavan had hurt Dragomir, had almost killed him, had killed Julian, and Niles couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't bear to see Donavan hurt anyone else he cared about. Dragomir killing Donavan would avenge Julian's death, and would make Niles feel so much better. Sniffing again, he pressed his face back against Dragomir's chest, clenching his jaw and nodding. "I know you can do it, Dragomir," he murmured, "I know you can."
“I won’t,” Dragomir assured with determination. “I think I wounded him… It shouldn’t be too hard. They have that kid locked up, so it’ll be fair.” Dragomir’s mind was already running through the details. This was better. This he could handle. Dragomir couldn’t mourn, but he could express his grief by taking out the man responsible for Julian’s death. “I know. I will kill him.”
Cecile stirred, feeling uncomfortable but warm, letting her eyes flutter open to be met with darkness. She began to roll over, but realized that she wasn't in her bed at all, but laying on the ground, fully clothed, with her head resting on something soft. Sitting up abruptly, she met with another set of eyes in the darkness, and started, before the electric lights were flipped on and she realized that she was staring back into the eyes of a military woman--Corinne.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Corinne offered with a half-smile. "I hope you were able to sleep well?"
Cecile stared back at her for a moment as everything that had happened the day previous flooded back to her mind. There had been an assassin. Lucette was dead. The country was in panic. She was hiding, Corinne was protecting her. She hadn't been able to sleep, had stayed awake, sick with worry, into the wee hours of the morning, until finally, resting in Corinne's lap, she had finally been able to get some rest. But now, remembering it all, she was overcome with grief again, and collapsed forward into Corinne, all in tears again.
"Shh," Corinne soothed comfortingly, rubbing the queen's back softly, "Everything will be all right. I'm here to protect you, and even as we speak, things are getting taken care of. I promise, we'll take down the bad people who tried to kill you."
"But who...? Why...? What's going on?" Cecile sobbed, confused and scared and feeling alone in the world without Lucette.
Corinne sighed, but she knew the queen had the right to know what was going on with her country, no matter how young and vulnerable she seemed. Pulling back to look Cecile in the eyes, she swallowed. "As we have discovered, the General Commandant has been planning to have you assassinated for some time now. He wants to seize control of the country, and with you out of the way, it would be easy for him."
Cecile paled, then shook her head, her tears coming back, harder. "No, no, no! That can't be! The Commandant--Algernon-- he... he cares about me! I know it! He would never do something like that to me! I-- I--" But even as it began to sink in, it began to make sense... His kindness may have been fake, and if so... if it was only for the sake of taking advantage of her... "Why, why, Corrine?! Why would he do this to me? I don't understand, I've never done anything to try to hurt anyone, never! I only want to help the people! So why?!" She was hysterical now, she didn't know what to do.
Carefully, gently, Corinne pulled the queen back into her arms again, holding her tightly, protectively, almost. "Don't let it hurt you, your majesty. Learn from it. Become stronger." Lessons she had learned when she was about the queen's age, lessons which she knew any woman in power had to learn. "Men will always try to take advantage of you, because they see you as weak, because you're a woman. Prove them wrong. Show them that you can make it, that you can persevere. The situation may look bad now, but you have so many options. You're alive, and I know you can be strong. So prove to the country that you deserve their love and respect, and I promise you, you'll earn it back."
Looking up into Corrine's eyes, Cecile felt her breath catch in her throat, and her tears stopped. Corinne was such a strong woman, so in control of her surroundings, and it seemed almost as if she knew everything. Her words were everything Cecile had always wanted to be, she had always dreamed of proving that women were strong by her own rule, but no matter how hard she tried, it was impossible. But now, listening to Corinne, it seemed like she really could achieve it, could accomplish her goals, and so she nodded, managing a small but determined smile. "Yes. I'll prove it to them, Corinne."
Corinne grinned back, putting a hand on the queen's shoulder. "I know you can."
Cecile hesitated. "But then... why are we hiding here? Why aren't we taking action?"
"It's a plan," Corinne explained. "Because even if you are strong, you still need to be strategic. When the Commandant steps forward to take control of the country, we'll call him on his plan and you'll reveal that you're alive. We'll send officials to investigate him straightaway, and you'll earn back the public's favour. For now, though, we just need to wait. I'll be informed when the Commandant makes his move."
Cecile nodded, in awe of Corinne's plan. "Wow... Corinne, you're just amazing." She wished there was a way she could repay Corinne for everything she had done... and then it came to her. With a smile, she took Corinne's hands in her own. "Corinne... once we're out of here, remind you to thank you properly."
Corinne smiled softly, touched. "Your Majesty, there's no need."
Cecile shook her head, blushing softly. "I insist... and please, Corinne, call me Cecile."
"All right," Corinne replied, still smiling, relenting with the young queen's request. "If you insist, Cecile."
Cecile grinned, and for the first time since everything in this mess had begun, she felt hopeful.
A small smirk resting happily on his lips, Algernon took a deep breath, then pushed the doors open and stepped out onto the balcony to an audience of hundreds, Perceval at his heels. This, he knew, was the moment of truth, this was the moment he had been waiting for all these years, and with that thought in mind, he let his eyes slide shut as he inhaled once more before putting on a charismatic smile and walking into place. As he moved towards the front of the balcony, the crowd grew noisier for a moment, then silent, and the smirk almost reappeared, but he held it back. Swallowing and taking a deep breath, and with a glance back to Perceval, whose beauty soothed his nerves infinitely, he began.
"My fellow citizens, as, I'm sure, you all know, a terrible tragedy occurred yesterday. A young boy, who we have discovered to be an agent of a Hispanian militant group, entered the royal palace and, somehow managing to pass security, assassinated the queen, our own Cecile Marie Beaumont, as she attended tea. In the face of this tragedy, I'm sure many of you are confused, concerned, and frightened, as would only be appropriate in this situation. However, I have stepped forward not to bemoan the death of our young, late monarch, but to offer the fine citizens of this country with a solution to what may seem like a problem with no answer. In the aftermath of this terrible catastrophe, I speak to you now to humbly offer my own services to this fine country and to its people as a new, more effective military ruler.
"I know this may seem outlandish or strange to many of you, but I beg of you, hear me out. For this past year, the country has undergone many struggles and hardships, but I am willing to step up, to spend tireless hours constructing plans to remedy these problems of which our dearly beloved late queen was not even aware. I, a citizen just as you are, understand your struggles, and in the wake of this calamity, I have set aside my own desires and needs in order to take into considerations the needs of the people, and I am ready to take control of this country and steer it safely through these recent turbulent waters. Even now, I have my subordinates looking into the Hispanian militant groups who had reason to assassinate the queen, and I have sent soldiers to guard our borders, to protect us from any underhanded and deceitful attack the Hispanians may have planned. I am doing everything within my control to keep this country from sinking into chaos, and to protect the lives of innocent citizens from any harm that may come.
"Of course, I implore you to trust me that my leadership will only be temporary, until the country has fully recovered once more from this terrible tragedy. My only desire is to help the people, and when I have fulfilled that task, I will once more step down into my exclusively military position. However, should the public wish me to stay on, if I should please the public in my rule, I will gladly continue in my current vein, when the time comes. But please, for the time being, I only ask you to bear with me, and to stay calm and fearless. I will protect this country with all of my abilities and resources, and I will restore it to its former glory, even as we all recover from our loss. Please, I beg you all to keep the late queen in your hearts as we all mourn her passing, but I ask you to make room for me, as well, and to trust me to carry this country into a brighter future."
With a confident sigh, Algernon finished his speech to a thunder of cries and applause, and, with a curt bow, turned back towards the door, waiting as Perceval held it open for him. Only once they were safely out of eye and earshot did he turn, his grin returning. "Well, Percy? What did you think? And, of course, what do you think they thought?" The cheering and applause of the crowd could still be heard from the outside at an almost alarming volume, but Algernon wanted to hear what Perceval had to say.
“It was beautiful,” Percy admitted tightly, his voice only just audible above the din of the crowd. “Truly compelling. They’ll all be terrified of the Hispanians now, but they have such a wise, benevolent leader to look to for reassurance...I’m quite certain not a single one of them will regret the death of the late royal scum.” His words were genuine, and yet…Perceval couldn’t help but be concerned. Algernon was willing to “spend tireless hours” and put aside his “desires and needs” in order to serve the country. He’d always known that things would change when Algernon at last had the position of power he’d worked so hard to obtain and rightfully deserved, but Perceval had never considered the possibility of certain sacrifices. Perceval pouted and moved to Algernon’s arm, clutching it in his own and looking up at Algernon pathetically. “Everything is set now, it’s all yours, Algernon.” He sighed, looking down. “How much do you think you’ll really need to give up now that you’re in control?”
"Excellent," Algernon replied with a smirk, pulling Perceval into a quick but demanding kiss before drawing back and looking into his eyes, only then registering his pouty expression and his last statement. "What's the matter, Percy?" he asked with a little laugh, kissing him again on the cheek, this time tenderly, in an almost completely out-of-character fashion. He was giddy now, what did it matter? He wanted to assure Perceval that he could rule a country and still have some free recreational time, too, and so he cupped Perceval's face gently, looking him in the eye with a smile. "No matter what demands I'm forced to meet, no matter what pleasures I'm forced to give up, I could never go on without you, Percy, and you know that." He pecked him on the lips again softly before pulling back and beginning to walk again towards his office, pulling Perceval along. "Come. Soon, we'll be very busy, so for now, why don't we celebrate?"
Perceval nodded, smiling gratefully as he treasured Algernon’s words and show of affection. “I’m so happy for you Algernon,” he cooed. A celebration certainly was in order, and, reassured, Perceval was very much looking forward to all that would soon be taking place. In fact, he noted, positively bubbling, under Algernon’s direction, things were bound to change for the better as far as the two of them were concerned. Modifications to the law could surely be made, and perhaps their love could be expressed openly. Perceval’s face flushed with excitement and looking up at Algernon, his heart skipped a beat. “I was needlessly concerned,” Perceval admitted. “I know you’ll do wonderful things for this country, and I’ll always be by your side, Algernon.”
Algernon smiled, pulling Perceval closer to him. "Wonderful," he murmured into Perceval's ear, nipping lightly. "I'm so lucky to have such a beautiful, dedicated, wonderful possession as you, Percy... I'm so lucky you're mine." He was very lucky, it seemed, right now, very lucky indeed, and he couldn't help but smile again as he led Perceval back to his office.
A confident and calm expression on her face, Cecile swallowed her fears and took a deep breath, then pushed the glass doors open and stepped out onto the balcony to an audience of hundreds, Corinne at her heels. This, she knew, was the moment of truth, this was the moment in which she could either succeed or fail, and she knew, for her people, for Corinne, for Lucette, she had to succeed. As she moved towards the edge of the balcony, the crowd grew silent, as if only realizing now that she truly was alive. Swallowing and taking a deep breath, and with a glance back to Corinne, whose competence and belief in her soothed her nerves infinitely, she began.
"My most treasured and respected subjects... no, my fellow inhabitants of this fine country, I come before you today not as your Queen, not as one to rule over you, but as someone desperately and with all her heart concerned for the well being of this fine country. I must admit, for the past day, I have been dishonest. While you believed me to be deceased, I was very much alive, but please believe me when I say, I took no pleasure in deceiving my people. In fact, I was terrified, and mourning the loss of a very dear friend to me-- my double, and, more importantly, my very dear friend, Lucette Merril. In my place, she was assassinated, not by a Hispanian extremist, but by a member of the crime organization Berceuse Malhuereuse.
"I know this is not what you have been told by the General Commandant of the Gallian Armed Forced, Algernon Mauvais, but I beg you, hear my words. Algernon Mauvais is a traitor to this nation and to its people. He is a treasonous liar who spoke falsehoods to you in order to gain your trust, and he is a subversive and calculating man who cares nothing beyond his own personal gain. I myself was beguiled by his charismatic words, and so I can speak with confidence when I tell you: he is very talented at what he does, and you must see through his charms. It was he who planned my assassination, it was he who made connections with the Berceuse Malheureuse, it was he who sent the Hispanian child to take my life. He planned, in my death, to seize this country for his own, a crime for which he must be brought to justice.
"I understand that my words probably mean little to you, as the words of a Queen in a palace, as the words of a figurehead who must seem never to care for you. But please, I beg of you, even if only this once, place your trust in me. I know that, in the past, I may not have made the best of decisions, and I know in the past, my rule has been faulty. Because of my own bad judgment, a very dear friend to me is now dead, and I have only myself to blame. So please, if ever place your trust in me now, and look below the lacquered surface of general Algernon Mauvais to see what lies beneath that perfect smile. If you ever allow me to help you, take my hand now. I know that the past, both distant and recent, has been difficult, and I know I must be to blame for your suffering, but together, we can move towards a brighter future. So now, I do not demand as your sovereign but ask as your friend: please, allow me to help you."
She realized, as she concluded her speech, that there were hot tears now rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't care, because after a moment of silence, the crowd erupted into applause. A smile broke out onto her face, and she curtsied, deep, almost kneeling on the ground. "Thank you!" she sobbed, and though it couldn't be heard over the cheers, she didn't care. Grinning to Corinne, she turned and began back towards the door, taking Corinne's arm and feeling for the first time that she was worthy of it. She was confident now, she would do what was right. Lucette had not died for nothing.
“That lying—!” Perceval shrieked, stomping away from the crowd to where his automobile was waiting. He’d heard that something was taking place at the palace, but he’d never imagined that it would be this, that everything Algernon had worked for—that they’d dreamed of—all of it was destroyed by that witch! By the cheating royal scum who deserved nothing and somehow had everything, who had, in the span of just a few minutes of speaking, taken absolutely everything from Algernon. Perceval was red in the face and out of breath by the time he reached his automobile. Slamming his fist against it, he doubled over and, checking quickly over his shoulder that no one was around, he allowed the tears to flow. Bitter tears, and shaking with anger, he tore open the door and fell into the back seat. “Donavan!” he screamed, bending and crying into his lap. His hair fell into his face, and when he at last straightened to retrieve a scrap of paper, it had stuck to his tear-streaked face.
“Bastard—!” Perceval choked, scribbling out a message, not bothering to put it into code, not indulging in fancy language, and stumbled out of his automobile, scrambling around the side. He pulled his driver from his seat and pushed the letter into his hands. “You!” Perceval shouted, “take this to Donavan! You know where it is. Go! Now, damn you!” He slapped the man in the face with everything he had and watched as the man ran, tripping over himself looking back at his master. Perceval inhaled sharply through his teeth and sunk into the driver’s seat. He’d managed to stop crying, but Perceval could not dismiss the sinking feeling in his stomach, and no matter how hard he gripped the steering wheel as he drove back to headquarters, his hands still trembled with fear and anguish.
Dragomir didn’t know how to find Donavan, and that fact had always been the primary reason he’s never set out to kill him before. And it wasn’t as if he could simply search Donavan’s old haunts, either; Dragomir knew the places Donavan liked to hide were deep inside Berceuse Malheureuse territory, and while he could handle a few Berceuse Malheureuse, he couldn’t risk the possibility of becoming wounded before challenging Donavan.
Dragomir knew that in a fair fight, he had the strength to kill Donavan easily, and that Donavan was only still alive because their previous encounters had never been fair. Now however, with Donavan’s protégé imprisoned in the place, and because Dragomir was quite sure he’d wounded Donavan, his revenge was almost guaranteed. Of course, that was only assuming that he could find him.
For all seven years of his military service, there was just one secret about Donavan Dragomir had never disclosed. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that Donavan would not involve Dragomir’s family, so long as Dragomir never turned the military against Donavan’s father. Dragomir knew the two of them had a complicated history, one that resulted in the division of the Berceuse Malheureuse some years after Dragomir defected, but Dragomir also knew that Laurent D’Aubigne was one of the few people who could keep tabs on Donavan’s whereabouts.
The man who formerly held the entire Berceuse Malheureuse under his control was protected from military investigation by his distinguished status as an extremely wealthy noble from one of the oldest Gallian families, and, by putting his wealth into the right places, he’d avoided the prosecution his son had faced for crimes equally heinous. Furthermore, without Dragomir’s testimony, there was little to no evidence against the elder D’Aubigne, and as long as Dragomir’s family was in danger, Dragomir would never breathe a word about what he knew.
In this instance however, Dragomir was prepared to take a risk. If he could locate Donavan’s father and demand Donavan’s location, Dragomir was confident he could kill Donavan before he had a chance to lay a finger on his family. Laurent would have to be forced to cooperate, but the man was aged and likely to be unguarded, and Dragomir was prepared to do what he needed to get the man to talk.
Dragomir knew exactly where the D’Aubigne residence was located, and he was certain that there he would find Donavan’s father. Dragomir didn’t know how the servants would react to an intruder, so he withdrew his weapon and concealed it under his jacket as he approached. Strangely, no one appeared to meet him, as he would have assumed—surely the servants were used to receiving all kinds of guests for nefarious business affairs—but Dragomir did see the face of a servant appear in a second story window. Laurent would know he was coming.
“Donavan!” A maid gasped as the door was pushed open. Donavan sat up quickly and wiped the sleep from his eyes as a man he did not recognize burst into the room with the maid at his heels. Donavan reached over Faustino to the table, retrieving his pistol and wincing slightly at the sting in his shoulder.
“What the hell!” Donavan demanded. “Who let this trash in?” He glanced at his servant sharply, and she cowered, moving behind the door. He turned quickly back to the approaching man and cocked his pistol.
“Wait!” The man cried. “I have a message from Perceval Rousseau! It’s urgent!” He held out the paper in front of him, shaking, as if praying the thing shred could stay a bullet.
Faustino vaguely became aware of yelling, and, for a moment, was disoriented. When he blinked, however, he saw Donavan reaching for his gun, and instinctively did so too before remembering he was unarmed. Panicking, he looked around, and, realizing Donavan had the situation under control, looked to Donavan for any orders.
Donavan lowered his gun and stole a glance quickly at Faustino before holding out his other hand. “Bring it here.” He demanded gruffly. Having rested, the adrenaline had dissipated and left him sorer than before. He did not feel like betraying his injuries, especially since Perceval had sent a messenger he did not recognize. The man trudged forward obediently and lowered his eyes, offering the paper. Donavan ripped it from his fingers and unfolded the shred, simultaneously lifting his pistol and firing.
The man fell dead to the floor and Donavan’s eyes widened. The servant shrieked and he glared up at her. “Get out.” She hurried to obey and shut the door quickly behind her as Donavan crumbled the paper into a ball and dropped the weapon onto the bed. “The Queen’s alive.” He said blankly, still in shock.
Faustino's eyes widened, and he stared at Donavan for a moment. "But—but how...?" But then he realized: the double. After all that training, he must have mistaken them... Realizing the gravity of his mistake, he descended into tears, sobbing abysmally into his hands. He couldn't even bring himself to words; he was a failure, he had failed Donavan, and he hardly felt the desire even to continue to live.
Donavan swallowed and pulled Faustino into his arms soothingly. Perceval’s letter had been desperate, panicked, and angry; he’d accused Faustino of ruining everything and blamed Donavan for not doing anything to fix it. But Donavan knew that now there was nothing that could be done and that the mistake had been unavoidable. Obviously, the double had been sitting in for the Queen when they hadn’t expected and it was certainly not Faustino’s fault. “It’s okay…” Donavan murmured leaving a kiss on Faustino’s head and leaning into him softly. “It’s not your fault. We had bad information… We can work something out.”
Faustino shook his head, completely breaking down into his sobs. He had ruined everything, ruined everything for Donavan, and even after Donavan had come in to save him, even then, he let Donavan get hurt and wasn't any help at all. He was a terrible failure, and it seemed, all of a sudden, as if the world was closing in around him. Choking on his tears, he descended into a fit of coughing and doubled over, not able to bear the thought of looking Donavan in the eye after everything he had done.
“Faustino…” Donavan tilted his head up so that he could look him in the eyes and gently began wiping away his tears. “Don’t cry. It doesn’t matter to me. You did exactly what was expected of you. I don’t care if she’s still alive.” He smiled reassuringly. “As far as I’m concerned, that bitch can keep doing whatever she wants. We’ll stay together and we’ll be safe, regardless.” Donavan promised, pulling Faustino into his arms once again.
Faustino sniffed, looking back into Donavan's eyes pitifully. "You...you promise, Donavan...? You promise we'll always be together...?" Thoughts of his failure brought back memories of being trapped in that cold, dark dungeon, all alone, the promise of death on the horizon, and he shuddered reflexively. "I'm scared, Donavan... what if something bad happens to us because I failed?!" And then he was all in tears again.
“I promise.” Donavan said firmly. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, you know.” He felt Faustino tremble in his arms and held him a little closer, looking down gently into his eyes. “Don’t be scared. If anything happens, than I swear to you that we can make the best of it.”
Giving up, Faustino collapsed forward into Donavan's embrace, crying into his chest. "I'm sorry, Donavan," he choked out. "I love you..." Because that was the truth, and in the end, that was all he had to offer. In the aftermath of his tremendous failure, regardless of anything he had done or didn't do, he would always love Donavan with everything he had, and no matter what else happened, he would do whatever it took for Donavan.
“I love you too, Faustino. I’ll always love you.” He smiled truthfully and leaned back against the wall with Faustino still in his arms. “Everything will be all right.” As Donavan spoke, the door flew open once more and he stiffened, glaring up at the door where the maid had just reappeared. He considered shooting her for interrupting, but at the look on her face decided to hear her out.
“Someone’s here, sir! He’s looking for Laurent D’Aubigne, and even though I told him no one by that name lives here, he refused to wait outside.” The maid said hesitantly, flinching away from his cruel gaze. “He’s downstairs now, sir! We’re trying to tell him no one is home, but he just won’t leave! He’ll try to follow me, I’m sure!”
“Get down there and get whoever it is out of my house!” Donavan shouted. The woman jumped and hurried out of the room to obey his command, but Donavan couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He retrieved his gun and looked down at Faustino concernedly. “Get ready for anything, Faustino.”
Faustino stiffened and nodded, rolling over to retrieve the handgun he knew was in the bedside table. Stumbling to his feet and realizing he was somewhat lightheaded, he tried to get control of himself and held the gun firmly. He would protect Donavan now, he swore to himself. He had messed everything else up, but not now, not again. Whoever came in, when Donavan said the word, he would shoot, and shoot to kill. He wouldn't fail again, he would prove himself to Donavan. Donavan, after all, was the most important person in the world to him, and he had to do something to prove he was worthy, to earn Donavan's love.
Donavan followed Faustino to his feet and quickly moved across the room to a large bureau where he stored a vast collection of weapons. Arming himself with some of what remained after rescuing Faustino, he beckoned for Faustino to follow him out into the hall. There, he leaned over the banister hoping to catch a glimpse of the invader on the first floor. While he could see nothing, voices echoed up from below him and Donavan gripped the banister angrily.
“Out of my way!” Donavan heard Dragomir bellow. “I know he’s here.”
“Dragomir,” Donavan hissed, turning to Faustino. “We have to leave. Right now.” If Dragomir knew that Donavan had taken over the mansion, there was no telling how long they had before the entire military swarmed the place, and now that Algernon’s plan had failed—and in fact had failed because of them—Donavan knew that there was nothing Algernon would or could do to protect them, and Perceval certainly wouldn’t grant them asylum. “Grab what you can. We’re going out the window.”
Faustino, however, also heard the voice, and ground his teeth angrily. "No—Donavan—" His voice trembled with urgency and anger, and he swallowed, trying to get a hold of himself as his grip on his gun tightened. "I want to kill him. I want to kill Dragomir. If we just run away now, he'll—" He could feel his pulse coursing through his veins, and suddenly he was desperate, desperate to prove himself, to protect Donavan, to get rid of that piece of trash who had ruined Donavan's—and therefore his own—life. "Please, Donavan!" he almost cried, feeling as if he might die to run away now.
Donavan turned to Faustino, both surprised and angered by Faustino’s dissent. “No,” Donavan said tightly, “We are leaving. We’ll go where he can’t follow us.” Donavan narrowed his eyes and looked at Faustino once more before heading back toward the bedroom door. “I can’t let you fight him.”
The tone in Donavan's voice made Faustino's stomach clench and his heart hurt, and looking back at him, he suddenly felt lost and defenseless. Everything that he had been working so hard to build up for the past days, his protective barrier of "being a grown up" suddenly crumbled to pieces, as did his resolve, and he once more descended into tears. For the first time in so long, he felt without purpose, without direction. He could do nothing, and so he simply stood, arms hanging limply at his sides, and cried.
Donavan inhaled sharply and swung back around, kneeling hurriedly in front of Faustino. He hadn’t intended to make him cry—Donavan never wanted to make Faustino cry—but he had to make their situation clear and he had to do it fast enough so that they still had time to get out. “Faustino…” he said uneasily, taking Faustino’s hands into his own. He felt rotten for speaking so harshly to him, and yet, he didn’t really know what to do about it; they simply didn’t have time. “Faustino, we have to get away from here. Away from Dragomir.” He swallowed, thinking of how best to explain his urgency. “I want just as much as you to see him dead, but right now, I know that he could kill me. And if something happened to you, and I couldn’t help you, if anything happened at all, I would never be able to forgive myself.” He looked Faustino directly in the eyes and wiped away his tears gently with his thumb. “I love you Faustino, and that’s why I don’t want to take any risks. That’s why we need to get away.”
Faustino nodded quickly, wiping at his tears with the backs of his hands, feeling foolish and childish for crying that way. Donavan was right—Donavan, of course, was always right, and he couldn't waste any more time being a crybaby. Kissing Donavan quickly, he drew away and grabbed his rapier, holstering his gun and tucking his dagger away, under his belt. That, it seemed, was all for which he had time, because he could hear the footsteps getting louder now, and so he took Donavan's hand, looking up to him and sniffing away the last of his tears. "I'm ready, Donavan."
“Let’s go.” Donavan smiled with a nod, relived. He took Faustino by the hand and led him over to the bedroom window, which opened onto the pitched roof of the second story. They didn’t have time; Donavan could hear footsteps in the hall just beyond the shut door of the bedroom. They needed to get out, but Donavan couldn’t help but hesitate. He was nervous about escaping from the roof for the same reason he was nervous about standing his ground and fighting Dragomir. If Faustino slipped, if he himself slipped, Donavan wasn’t sure if he’d be strong enough in his injured state either one of them. “Be very careful,” Donavan said gravely, kneeling to lift Faustino onto the sill. He winced at the pain in his arm and shoulder and clenched his jaw to keep it from showing. “Try to work your way down by moving in a zigzag downward.” Donavan instructed as he, too, climbed out onto the steep incline. “Go slow. I’ve got an eye on the window.”
"O-okay..." Faustino replied, swallowing as he realized how scary it was to be climbing down the roof this way. Clinging onto the shingles, he inched in a downward diagonal, as Donavan had told him. He tried his hardest not to think about the ground; he hadn't been trained for something like this, and it was really terrifying. Remembering that Donavan had said to zigzag, he began to change directions, but his movement was too sharp and his hand slipped, breaking off a piece of the shingle so that he lost his balance and rocked backwards unsteadily, his footing slipping. Whimpering in fear, he watched the broken pieces fall down to the ground, and he almost screamed, but he knew he had to keep control of himself. Taking a deep breath, he swung his arm back up and this time successfully grasped the roofing, swallowing gratefully and slowly continuing.
Donavan’s breath caught in his throat when he heard the shingle break and Faustino’s sound of distress, and without thinking, he attempted to swing his weight around to catch Faustino. However, in letting go of the roof with one arm, a wave of pain swept through him and his bicep spasmed just under the shoulder wound. Gasping, Donavan looked over his shoulder down at Faustino, unable to help without losing his own balance. “Are you all right?” Donavan shuddered through his pain, relieved to see Faustino still clinging to the roof below him.
"Y-yeah," Faustino replied with an affirmative nod, but his voice was shaking, and though he was trying desperately to keep under control, his body was beginning to tremble, too, with exertion and with fear. "It's just—" he didn't want to say it, he had to be an adult, but yet, his will was breaking, no matter how hard he tried, and... "It's just that I'm frightened, Donavan..."
“I know…” Donavan agreed. His arms ached and the shoulder wound had opened again under its bandage. “We’re almost to the balcony.” Somehow, Donavan managed to say it almost cheerfully, as if to spur them both forward.
After several arduous minutes of climbing, they were both finally positioned over the balcony and Donavan let go, sliding easily down to the solid surface form which he could reach Faustino. His arms shook terribly just in lifting Faustino’s weight, and, after setting him down gently, Donavan folded them to give them a rest. “From here we can get to the fence and climb down that. We’re almost out.” They’d already endured one escape, and Donavan hated that this time they had to run from their own home and from Dragomir, no less.
Faustino nodded, going first towards the fence, as per Donavan's instructions. Carefully, he clung to the posts and lowered himself to the ground, but after the roof, the fence was a lot less intimidating, and so soon, he was jumping the last few feet to the ground, waiting for Donavan to follow and feeling his heart pounding in his chest, knowing that they were almost safe for sure.
Dragomir scrambled from room to room, desperately trying to locate Laurent D’Aubigne. He knew someone had to be home, or else one of the maids—whose companions he’d been forced to threaten at gun point to let him into the main part of the house—wouldn’t have run upstairs in such a hurry to presumably inform the master of the house that there was an intruder. Dragomir searched four rooms, all of which, strangely, were entirely empty of furnishings before he at last found himself in what he assumed was the master bedroom. Still, there was no one in sight and Dragomir was about to turn back in hopes of finding a study, or something, when he noted that the window was open.
On a whim, he jogged forward towards it to investigate, intending simply to check if there was a balcony, or anything like that, before moving on. Looking out across the yard, Dragomir could see nothing, but as his eyes wondered across the roof top, he noted several places where the shingles had been freshly ripped out of place. Suspicious, Dragomir climbed out onto the roof and stood, bracing himself against the wall and climbing slightly higher. It seemed ridiculous that someone would try to escape out such a window…and yet…
Dragomir spotted the two figures just as they were climbing down from the fence on the other side of the building. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took aim and fired at Donavan. His angle was bad, and so he wasn’t surprised when the shot missed; he took off running along the rooftop, desperate for a better shot, and watched, with growing anger and desperation as Donavan took hold of the little boy’s arm and took off running, getting further and further out of range.
Dragomir took another desperate shot, and in doing so, he lost his footing and dropped the weapon, scrambling to get hold of one of the shingles. He’d missed the shot, he knew it, and now there was no way he could catch up to them. Cursing, Dragomir reoriented himself and looked around for the dropped weapon, and upon seeing it on the balcony, eased his way down to retrieve it. Donavan was gone and he’d managed to break Esparanza out of prison. Dragomir holstered the weapon, and in his frustration turned and slammed his foot against the door. The old wood splintered, detaching from its ancient hinges, and Dragomir stormed inside. He’d already failed to kill Donavan so many times…and yet this time…Dragomir got the feeling he’d missed his final chance.
The sun was rising by the time Niles finally gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t changed, hadn’t even moved much since he woke up back at home, and only now that he was asleep was Dragomir able to hold him. Dragomir knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not after everything that had happened, but at least now he could hold on to Niles, reassure himself that Niles really was all right—physically, anyway.
If Julian hadn’t…if it had been Niles…Niles would have been the one who… Dragomir’s mind was still racing with all the possible outcomes; the what ifs and if onlys were always what kept him from sleeping. However, the fact of the matter was that Julian was dead and that he’d died to save Niles. And for that, Dragomir knew he owed Julian everything, but somehow he still couldn’t really bring himself to grieve. His relief and gratitude were still too overwhelming to really acknowledge Julian’s sacrifice. Besides, right now, Dragomir knew he had to concentrate on Niles and helping him to pull though.
Niles awoke slowly and in discrete sections; he became aware, first, of the sound of breathing, and then, after a while, the feeling of warm breath against his neck. His mind was blank, and he thought nothing as he continued to come into consciousness, feeling afternoon sun wash over his eyelids, smelling the familiar scent of home and of Dragomir. He felt nothing, and slowly, he let his eyes flutter open and drifted more into wakefulness. He was greeted with the sight of Dragomir, holding him close, a worried expression on his features, and then all of a sudden, everything came rushing back to him, and he dissolved into tears, falling forward into Dragomir, completely limp. It was all just too much, he couldn't even remember how he was feeling now, everything was all mixed up in his head and his heart, and he just cried, unable to do anything else.
Dragomir swallowed, unsure of what to say and whether anything he said could even make a difference. At least Niles wasn’t pushing him away…maybe just by holding him, Dragomir could help, even if it was only a little bit. “Niles…” Dragomir ventured after a moment or so, though he was still unsure of what exactly he should do. “It’s going to be all right… Julian…he…he wouldn’t want to see you cry…” Dragomir bit his lip and cast his glance down, wondering what right he really had to say anything about Julian.
At the mention of Julian, Niles began to cry harder, his body trembling as his sobs grew louder and harder, out of control. More than anything, now, he was left with the heavy feeling of guilt that Julian had died for him, and if it hadn't been for him, Julian would still be alive. If he had died, Julian would still be alive. Shaking against Dragomir's chest, he sniffed, finding his voice, though it wavered and cracked with his emotional fit. "If I had died... Julian... he'd still... I wish it had been me, instead of him!" Niles hated how people always got hurt because of him, Dragomir and Julian both, and the guilt was overwhelming, weighing heavily on his heart now that he would never even be able to apologize to Julian. He wished he could go back, he wished he could do it again and take the bullet instead, so that Julian would still have a chance to live.
“Don’t say that!” Dragomir said quickly, gripping Niles tightly as if afraid of Niles’s wish coming true and losing him forever. “If it had been you—Niles, if things had been different—!” Dragomir didn’t even want to continue. It was exactly what he’d been thinking about while Niles slept. If Julian hadn’t done what he had…if Niles hadn’t made it, Dragomir didn’t think he could have kept going. Niles was everything to him. Dragomir took a shaky breath and looked into Niles’s eyes carefully. “Me and Julian…we would have… Julian did what he did because he loved you. He wanted you to live. So don’t even think about that! I couldn’t imagine living without you, and I bet Julian felt the same.” Dragomir turned away, still chewing on his lip. “Niles…if you had died…” tears filled his eyes at the very thought of such an outcome. “We wouldn’t…Julian and I couldn’t have forgiven ourselves. Please don’t think about dying on me…and try and live for him.”
"Why?" Niles sobbed, the word falling from his lips even before he could think. "Why me? I don't want the people I care about to die!" He didn't even know what he was saying now, it was as if his words were bypassing his brain and coming straight from his heart. "I wish no one loved me again, like before... even if-- even if it was terrible, at least-- at least no one I loved died!" He was feeling dizzy again, nauseated, but he knew what he said was the truth. "I wish no one loved me!"
“Niles…” Dragomir gulped, “you don’t mean that…” he looked down and pulled Niles a little closer. “Even if that’s how you feel… I’m still going to love you. And I’m still here with you. I’m not going to die, so you have to stay alive and stay with me too, okay?” Dragomir looked back at Niles sniffed back his tears. “Please… I love you Niles… I know it’s difficult…but Julian didn’t give up his life so that you could wish you died instead. Julian wanted you to live, and I need you to keep going because I love you.”
Because I love you. That was what Julian had said, too, as to why he had taken the bullet... "Because I love you." The words made Niles' gut wrench and his heart knot, and he shook his head violently, pushing away from Dragomir and sitting up only to collapse against the headboard. "I don't want..." he choked, trembling weakly. "I don't want you to die... I don't want anything else to happen... because someone loves..." If love meant always making sacrifices, Niles couldn't stand the thought of Dragomir meeting Julian's fate, too. It was too terrible, and he collapsed back down into a heap on the bed, his sobs become almost shrieks of agony.
“Niles!” Dragomir sat up as well and moved next to Niles again, unwilling to allow him to withdraw completely as he had the day before. He couldn’t let Niles torture himself over what had happened…somehow he had to help him. “I’m not going to die.” Dragomir said firmly, raising his voice so that Niles could hear what he said and moving almost on top of him so that Niles would have to look at him. “It’s not going to happen—I’m never going to leave you.” Then, without thinking, Dragomir leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Niles’s lips, hoping that somehow, it would help Niles to believe him.
Niles' eyes widened when he felt Dragomir's lips against his own, and his tears slowed for a moment only to return full force a second later. Breaking the kiss, he collapsed forward into Dragomir's arms, sobs once again controlling his body. "Dragomir..." he gasped, clinging onto Dragomir as if his life depended on it, "I—I love you so much... please... don't ever leave me... I love you, Dragomir..." He realized now that, no matter what, Dragomir was what was most important to him, as were the other people he cared about, and if he was in the same situation as Julian had been, he would have given his life, just as Julian did, to save those he loved. "Dragomir..." he sobbed again, his voice muffled in Dragomir's clothes, "I love you..."
“I love you too,” Dragomir breathed, relived that Niles was back to himself. “I’m always going to be here for you, Niles.” He murmured, pulling Niles a little closer and placing a kiss on his head. “I…I know it’s difficult to accept…” Dragomir said after a moment, “but I think Julian wouldn’t want it any other way. And I…I’m just so glad that you’re safe. Niles…you mean everything to me.” Gently, Dragomir tilted Niles’s head up and placed another soft kiss to his lips lovingly.
Niles didn't want the kiss to end; for some reason, being with Dragomir was making him somehow feel more safe, more stable. The guilt, though still notably present, was fading from the front of his mind, and he was able to relax in Dragomir's embrace, his breath calming, his tears slowing. As they pulled apart, he looked up into Dragomir's eyes, sniffing and wiping at his face with his sleeves. "I... I'm going to live and be happy for Julian... but... but..." he looked down again, trying to fight back tears once more, though this time, they were quiet tears of sorrow. "But... I'm going to miss him so much... Dragomir... I can't believe he's gone..."
“Yeah…” Dragomir agreed. “I can’t believe it either…it’s just…” He looked down and bit his lip again, tightening his hold on Niles. “I just keep thinking that I could have lost you instead…” Dragomir looked up at Niles once again and smiled slightly. “I’m just so grateful…I can’t even…It just hasn’t sunk in that he’s gone.”
Niles gave up the fight, and tears streamed down his cheeks once more, soft but steady tears at the thought of his best friend and all the things they had done together and all the things they would never have the chance to do. "I... I really am grateful... I just wish... I wish there could have been some other way..." He swallowed, wiping at his eyes only to have more tears flow forth. "I just... I can't believe I didn't know... know that he... he was in love with me..." It really was a terrible burden to bear, knowing now how much grief he must have given Julian, how inconsiderate he was to his friend's feelings. Still, he knew the only thing he could do now would be to remember Julian and live his life to the fullest, because Julian had given his away for him...
Leaning back against Dragomir again, Niles hiccuped into his chest. "I... I guess I'll have to tell everyone... that he's gone..." He sniffed again, worrying just at the thought of it. How could he possibly say what had happened, how could he possibly tell of how brave Julian had been, how it had been all his fault that Julian was dead in the first place? "I'll have to tell Nicephore, and them..." Pulling back again, he looked up at Dragomir pathetically. "How am I going to do it, Dragomir?"
“I don’t know…I’ll go with you, though, if you want me to be there…” He offered, unsure of what he could really do to help other than offer his support. He felt…rather disconnected from all of them, but he definitely wanted to be available for Niles, and he was willing to do anything to help him get through. Still, while he wanted to help Niles, Dragomir couldn’t think about what was to be done for Julian, but rather only what could be done about his murderer. He narrowed his eyes and looked out across the room darkly, knowing he should mourn but finding it difficult. Niles was right, really…Julian shouldn’t have had to die, and for that, Donavan would have to pay.
"Maybe," Niles agreed, uncertain about the whole concept, uncertain if he'd really be able to do it. "I just wish... I just wish there had been some other way..." He was being stupid now, he knew; Julian was dead and there was nothing he could do about it now, but still, if he could somehow wish Julian back to life... but that was stupid to think about, too, and he knew it. He couldn't dwell on Julian's death, the best he could do would be to remember him and live for him. Still, he wished there was something he could do, something about the injustice of it all... but really, what could he do? So he cried into Dragomir's chest, because that seemed like the only course of action right now.
"Niles,” Dragomir said slowly, uncertain as to whether or not he really wanted to continue, unsure if now was really an appropriate time to even be thinking about revenge, “He should be avenged.” Dragomir said it, then looked away, chewing at his lip. “I should have been there with you both when…when it happened… And Donavan got away. I should have been able to kill him then. I wish I had killed him a long time ago…but I have to now. I hate that my involvement with him has hurt you so much…” Dragomir looked back at Niles and clasped him tightly. He would kill Donavan, one way or another.
Niles looked up at Dragomir blearily, sniffing. "Dragomir... I don't want you to get hurt..." he protested weakly, but even as he spoke, he lacked any conviction whatsoever. The truth of the matter was, he wanted Dragomir to kill Donavan, wanted it badly. Donavan had hurt Dragomir, had almost killed him, had killed Julian, and Niles couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't bear to see Donavan hurt anyone else he cared about. Dragomir killing Donavan would avenge Julian's death, and would make Niles feel so much better. Sniffing again, he pressed his face back against Dragomir's chest, clenching his jaw and nodding. "I know you can do it, Dragomir," he murmured, "I know you can."
“I won’t,” Dragomir assured with determination. “I think I wounded him… It shouldn’t be too hard. They have that kid locked up, so it’ll be fair.” Dragomir’s mind was already running through the details. This was better. This he could handle. Dragomir couldn’t mourn, but he could express his grief by taking out the man responsible for Julian’s death. “I know. I will kill him.”
Cecile stirred, feeling uncomfortable but warm, letting her eyes flutter open to be met with darkness. She began to roll over, but realized that she wasn't in her bed at all, but laying on the ground, fully clothed, with her head resting on something soft. Sitting up abruptly, she met with another set of eyes in the darkness, and started, before the electric lights were flipped on and she realized that she was staring back into the eyes of a military woman--Corinne.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Corinne offered with a half-smile. "I hope you were able to sleep well?"
Cecile stared back at her for a moment as everything that had happened the day previous flooded back to her mind. There had been an assassin. Lucette was dead. The country was in panic. She was hiding, Corinne was protecting her. She hadn't been able to sleep, had stayed awake, sick with worry, into the wee hours of the morning, until finally, resting in Corinne's lap, she had finally been able to get some rest. But now, remembering it all, she was overcome with grief again, and collapsed forward into Corinne, all in tears again.
"Shh," Corinne soothed comfortingly, rubbing the queen's back softly, "Everything will be all right. I'm here to protect you, and even as we speak, things are getting taken care of. I promise, we'll take down the bad people who tried to kill you."
"But who...? Why...? What's going on?" Cecile sobbed, confused and scared and feeling alone in the world without Lucette.
Corinne sighed, but she knew the queen had the right to know what was going on with her country, no matter how young and vulnerable she seemed. Pulling back to look Cecile in the eyes, she swallowed. "As we have discovered, the General Commandant has been planning to have you assassinated for some time now. He wants to seize control of the country, and with you out of the way, it would be easy for him."
Cecile paled, then shook her head, her tears coming back, harder. "No, no, no! That can't be! The Commandant--Algernon-- he... he cares about me! I know it! He would never do something like that to me! I-- I--" But even as it began to sink in, it began to make sense... His kindness may have been fake, and if so... if it was only for the sake of taking advantage of her... "Why, why, Corrine?! Why would he do this to me? I don't understand, I've never done anything to try to hurt anyone, never! I only want to help the people! So why?!" She was hysterical now, she didn't know what to do.
Carefully, gently, Corinne pulled the queen back into her arms again, holding her tightly, protectively, almost. "Don't let it hurt you, your majesty. Learn from it. Become stronger." Lessons she had learned when she was about the queen's age, lessons which she knew any woman in power had to learn. "Men will always try to take advantage of you, because they see you as weak, because you're a woman. Prove them wrong. Show them that you can make it, that you can persevere. The situation may look bad now, but you have so many options. You're alive, and I know you can be strong. So prove to the country that you deserve their love and respect, and I promise you, you'll earn it back."
Looking up into Corrine's eyes, Cecile felt her breath catch in her throat, and her tears stopped. Corinne was such a strong woman, so in control of her surroundings, and it seemed almost as if she knew everything. Her words were everything Cecile had always wanted to be, she had always dreamed of proving that women were strong by her own rule, but no matter how hard she tried, it was impossible. But now, listening to Corinne, it seemed like she really could achieve it, could accomplish her goals, and so she nodded, managing a small but determined smile. "Yes. I'll prove it to them, Corinne."
Corinne grinned back, putting a hand on the queen's shoulder. "I know you can."
Cecile hesitated. "But then... why are we hiding here? Why aren't we taking action?"
"It's a plan," Corinne explained. "Because even if you are strong, you still need to be strategic. When the Commandant steps forward to take control of the country, we'll call him on his plan and you'll reveal that you're alive. We'll send officials to investigate him straightaway, and you'll earn back the public's favour. For now, though, we just need to wait. I'll be informed when the Commandant makes his move."
Cecile nodded, in awe of Corinne's plan. "Wow... Corinne, you're just amazing." She wished there was a way she could repay Corinne for everything she had done... and then it came to her. With a smile, she took Corinne's hands in her own. "Corinne... once we're out of here, remind you to thank you properly."
Corinne smiled softly, touched. "Your Majesty, there's no need."
Cecile shook her head, blushing softly. "I insist... and please, Corinne, call me Cecile."
"All right," Corinne replied, still smiling, relenting with the young queen's request. "If you insist, Cecile."
Cecile grinned, and for the first time since everything in this mess had begun, she felt hopeful.
A small smirk resting happily on his lips, Algernon took a deep breath, then pushed the doors open and stepped out onto the balcony to an audience of hundreds, Perceval at his heels. This, he knew, was the moment of truth, this was the moment he had been waiting for all these years, and with that thought in mind, he let his eyes slide shut as he inhaled once more before putting on a charismatic smile and walking into place. As he moved towards the front of the balcony, the crowd grew noisier for a moment, then silent, and the smirk almost reappeared, but he held it back. Swallowing and taking a deep breath, and with a glance back to Perceval, whose beauty soothed his nerves infinitely, he began.
"My fellow citizens, as, I'm sure, you all know, a terrible tragedy occurred yesterday. A young boy, who we have discovered to be an agent of a Hispanian militant group, entered the royal palace and, somehow managing to pass security, assassinated the queen, our own Cecile Marie Beaumont, as she attended tea. In the face of this tragedy, I'm sure many of you are confused, concerned, and frightened, as would only be appropriate in this situation. However, I have stepped forward not to bemoan the death of our young, late monarch, but to offer the fine citizens of this country with a solution to what may seem like a problem with no answer. In the aftermath of this terrible catastrophe, I speak to you now to humbly offer my own services to this fine country and to its people as a new, more effective military ruler.
"I know this may seem outlandish or strange to many of you, but I beg of you, hear me out. For this past year, the country has undergone many struggles and hardships, but I am willing to step up, to spend tireless hours constructing plans to remedy these problems of which our dearly beloved late queen was not even aware. I, a citizen just as you are, understand your struggles, and in the wake of this calamity, I have set aside my own desires and needs in order to take into considerations the needs of the people, and I am ready to take control of this country and steer it safely through these recent turbulent waters. Even now, I have my subordinates looking into the Hispanian militant groups who had reason to assassinate the queen, and I have sent soldiers to guard our borders, to protect us from any underhanded and deceitful attack the Hispanians may have planned. I am doing everything within my control to keep this country from sinking into chaos, and to protect the lives of innocent citizens from any harm that may come.
"Of course, I implore you to trust me that my leadership will only be temporary, until the country has fully recovered once more from this terrible tragedy. My only desire is to help the people, and when I have fulfilled that task, I will once more step down into my exclusively military position. However, should the public wish me to stay on, if I should please the public in my rule, I will gladly continue in my current vein, when the time comes. But please, for the time being, I only ask you to bear with me, and to stay calm and fearless. I will protect this country with all of my abilities and resources, and I will restore it to its former glory, even as we all recover from our loss. Please, I beg you all to keep the late queen in your hearts as we all mourn her passing, but I ask you to make room for me, as well, and to trust me to carry this country into a brighter future."
With a confident sigh, Algernon finished his speech to a thunder of cries and applause, and, with a curt bow, turned back towards the door, waiting as Perceval held it open for him. Only once they were safely out of eye and earshot did he turn, his grin returning. "Well, Percy? What did you think? And, of course, what do you think they thought?" The cheering and applause of the crowd could still be heard from the outside at an almost alarming volume, but Algernon wanted to hear what Perceval had to say.
“It was beautiful,” Percy admitted tightly, his voice only just audible above the din of the crowd. “Truly compelling. They’ll all be terrified of the Hispanians now, but they have such a wise, benevolent leader to look to for reassurance...I’m quite certain not a single one of them will regret the death of the late royal scum.” His words were genuine, and yet…Perceval couldn’t help but be concerned. Algernon was willing to “spend tireless hours” and put aside his “desires and needs” in order to serve the country. He’d always known that things would change when Algernon at last had the position of power he’d worked so hard to obtain and rightfully deserved, but Perceval had never considered the possibility of certain sacrifices. Perceval pouted and moved to Algernon’s arm, clutching it in his own and looking up at Algernon pathetically. “Everything is set now, it’s all yours, Algernon.” He sighed, looking down. “How much do you think you’ll really need to give up now that you’re in control?”
"Excellent," Algernon replied with a smirk, pulling Perceval into a quick but demanding kiss before drawing back and looking into his eyes, only then registering his pouty expression and his last statement. "What's the matter, Percy?" he asked with a little laugh, kissing him again on the cheek, this time tenderly, in an almost completely out-of-character fashion. He was giddy now, what did it matter? He wanted to assure Perceval that he could rule a country and still have some free recreational time, too, and so he cupped Perceval's face gently, looking him in the eye with a smile. "No matter what demands I'm forced to meet, no matter what pleasures I'm forced to give up, I could never go on without you, Percy, and you know that." He pecked him on the lips again softly before pulling back and beginning to walk again towards his office, pulling Perceval along. "Come. Soon, we'll be very busy, so for now, why don't we celebrate?"
Perceval nodded, smiling gratefully as he treasured Algernon’s words and show of affection. “I’m so happy for you Algernon,” he cooed. A celebration certainly was in order, and, reassured, Perceval was very much looking forward to all that would soon be taking place. In fact, he noted, positively bubbling, under Algernon’s direction, things were bound to change for the better as far as the two of them were concerned. Modifications to the law could surely be made, and perhaps their love could be expressed openly. Perceval’s face flushed with excitement and looking up at Algernon, his heart skipped a beat. “I was needlessly concerned,” Perceval admitted. “I know you’ll do wonderful things for this country, and I’ll always be by your side, Algernon.”
Algernon smiled, pulling Perceval closer to him. "Wonderful," he murmured into Perceval's ear, nipping lightly. "I'm so lucky to have such a beautiful, dedicated, wonderful possession as you, Percy... I'm so lucky you're mine." He was very lucky, it seemed, right now, very lucky indeed, and he couldn't help but smile again as he led Perceval back to his office.
A confident and calm expression on her face, Cecile swallowed her fears and took a deep breath, then pushed the glass doors open and stepped out onto the balcony to an audience of hundreds, Corinne at her heels. This, she knew, was the moment of truth, this was the moment in which she could either succeed or fail, and she knew, for her people, for Corinne, for Lucette, she had to succeed. As she moved towards the edge of the balcony, the crowd grew silent, as if only realizing now that she truly was alive. Swallowing and taking a deep breath, and with a glance back to Corinne, whose competence and belief in her soothed her nerves infinitely, she began.
"My most treasured and respected subjects... no, my fellow inhabitants of this fine country, I come before you today not as your Queen, not as one to rule over you, but as someone desperately and with all her heart concerned for the well being of this fine country. I must admit, for the past day, I have been dishonest. While you believed me to be deceased, I was very much alive, but please believe me when I say, I took no pleasure in deceiving my people. In fact, I was terrified, and mourning the loss of a very dear friend to me-- my double, and, more importantly, my very dear friend, Lucette Merril. In my place, she was assassinated, not by a Hispanian extremist, but by a member of the crime organization Berceuse Malhuereuse.
"I know this is not what you have been told by the General Commandant of the Gallian Armed Forced, Algernon Mauvais, but I beg you, hear my words. Algernon Mauvais is a traitor to this nation and to its people. He is a treasonous liar who spoke falsehoods to you in order to gain your trust, and he is a subversive and calculating man who cares nothing beyond his own personal gain. I myself was beguiled by his charismatic words, and so I can speak with confidence when I tell you: he is very talented at what he does, and you must see through his charms. It was he who planned my assassination, it was he who made connections with the Berceuse Malheureuse, it was he who sent the Hispanian child to take my life. He planned, in my death, to seize this country for his own, a crime for which he must be brought to justice.
"I understand that my words probably mean little to you, as the words of a Queen in a palace, as the words of a figurehead who must seem never to care for you. But please, I beg of you, even if only this once, place your trust in me. I know that, in the past, I may not have made the best of decisions, and I know in the past, my rule has been faulty. Because of my own bad judgment, a very dear friend to me is now dead, and I have only myself to blame. So please, if ever place your trust in me now, and look below the lacquered surface of general Algernon Mauvais to see what lies beneath that perfect smile. If you ever allow me to help you, take my hand now. I know that the past, both distant and recent, has been difficult, and I know I must be to blame for your suffering, but together, we can move towards a brighter future. So now, I do not demand as your sovereign but ask as your friend: please, allow me to help you."
She realized, as she concluded her speech, that there were hot tears now rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't care, because after a moment of silence, the crowd erupted into applause. A smile broke out onto her face, and she curtsied, deep, almost kneeling on the ground. "Thank you!" she sobbed, and though it couldn't be heard over the cheers, she didn't care. Grinning to Corinne, she turned and began back towards the door, taking Corinne's arm and feeling for the first time that she was worthy of it. She was confident now, she would do what was right. Lucette had not died for nothing.
“That lying—!” Perceval shrieked, stomping away from the crowd to where his automobile was waiting. He’d heard that something was taking place at the palace, but he’d never imagined that it would be this, that everything Algernon had worked for—that they’d dreamed of—all of it was destroyed by that witch! By the cheating royal scum who deserved nothing and somehow had everything, who had, in the span of just a few minutes of speaking, taken absolutely everything from Algernon. Perceval was red in the face and out of breath by the time he reached his automobile. Slamming his fist against it, he doubled over and, checking quickly over his shoulder that no one was around, he allowed the tears to flow. Bitter tears, and shaking with anger, he tore open the door and fell into the back seat. “Donavan!” he screamed, bending and crying into his lap. His hair fell into his face, and when he at last straightened to retrieve a scrap of paper, it had stuck to his tear-streaked face.
“Bastard—!” Perceval choked, scribbling out a message, not bothering to put it into code, not indulging in fancy language, and stumbled out of his automobile, scrambling around the side. He pulled his driver from his seat and pushed the letter into his hands. “You!” Perceval shouted, “take this to Donavan! You know where it is. Go! Now, damn you!” He slapped the man in the face with everything he had and watched as the man ran, tripping over himself looking back at his master. Perceval inhaled sharply through his teeth and sunk into the driver’s seat. He’d managed to stop crying, but Perceval could not dismiss the sinking feeling in his stomach, and no matter how hard he gripped the steering wheel as he drove back to headquarters, his hands still trembled with fear and anguish.
Dragomir didn’t know how to find Donavan, and that fact had always been the primary reason he’s never set out to kill him before. And it wasn’t as if he could simply search Donavan’s old haunts, either; Dragomir knew the places Donavan liked to hide were deep inside Berceuse Malheureuse territory, and while he could handle a few Berceuse Malheureuse, he couldn’t risk the possibility of becoming wounded before challenging Donavan.
Dragomir knew that in a fair fight, he had the strength to kill Donavan easily, and that Donavan was only still alive because their previous encounters had never been fair. Now however, with Donavan’s protégé imprisoned in the place, and because Dragomir was quite sure he’d wounded Donavan, his revenge was almost guaranteed. Of course, that was only assuming that he could find him.
For all seven years of his military service, there was just one secret about Donavan Dragomir had never disclosed. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that Donavan would not involve Dragomir’s family, so long as Dragomir never turned the military against Donavan’s father. Dragomir knew the two of them had a complicated history, one that resulted in the division of the Berceuse Malheureuse some years after Dragomir defected, but Dragomir also knew that Laurent D’Aubigne was one of the few people who could keep tabs on Donavan’s whereabouts.
The man who formerly held the entire Berceuse Malheureuse under his control was protected from military investigation by his distinguished status as an extremely wealthy noble from one of the oldest Gallian families, and, by putting his wealth into the right places, he’d avoided the prosecution his son had faced for crimes equally heinous. Furthermore, without Dragomir’s testimony, there was little to no evidence against the elder D’Aubigne, and as long as Dragomir’s family was in danger, Dragomir would never breathe a word about what he knew.
In this instance however, Dragomir was prepared to take a risk. If he could locate Donavan’s father and demand Donavan’s location, Dragomir was confident he could kill Donavan before he had a chance to lay a finger on his family. Laurent would have to be forced to cooperate, but the man was aged and likely to be unguarded, and Dragomir was prepared to do what he needed to get the man to talk.
Dragomir knew exactly where the D’Aubigne residence was located, and he was certain that there he would find Donavan’s father. Dragomir didn’t know how the servants would react to an intruder, so he withdrew his weapon and concealed it under his jacket as he approached. Strangely, no one appeared to meet him, as he would have assumed—surely the servants were used to receiving all kinds of guests for nefarious business affairs—but Dragomir did see the face of a servant appear in a second story window. Laurent would know he was coming.
“Donavan!” A maid gasped as the door was pushed open. Donavan sat up quickly and wiped the sleep from his eyes as a man he did not recognize burst into the room with the maid at his heels. Donavan reached over Faustino to the table, retrieving his pistol and wincing slightly at the sting in his shoulder.
“What the hell!” Donavan demanded. “Who let this trash in?” He glanced at his servant sharply, and she cowered, moving behind the door. He turned quickly back to the approaching man and cocked his pistol.
“Wait!” The man cried. “I have a message from Perceval Rousseau! It’s urgent!” He held out the paper in front of him, shaking, as if praying the thing shred could stay a bullet.
Faustino vaguely became aware of yelling, and, for a moment, was disoriented. When he blinked, however, he saw Donavan reaching for his gun, and instinctively did so too before remembering he was unarmed. Panicking, he looked around, and, realizing Donavan had the situation under control, looked to Donavan for any orders.
Donavan lowered his gun and stole a glance quickly at Faustino before holding out his other hand. “Bring it here.” He demanded gruffly. Having rested, the adrenaline had dissipated and left him sorer than before. He did not feel like betraying his injuries, especially since Perceval had sent a messenger he did not recognize. The man trudged forward obediently and lowered his eyes, offering the paper. Donavan ripped it from his fingers and unfolded the shred, simultaneously lifting his pistol and firing.
The man fell dead to the floor and Donavan’s eyes widened. The servant shrieked and he glared up at her. “Get out.” She hurried to obey and shut the door quickly behind her as Donavan crumbled the paper into a ball and dropped the weapon onto the bed. “The Queen’s alive.” He said blankly, still in shock.
Faustino's eyes widened, and he stared at Donavan for a moment. "But—but how...?" But then he realized: the double. After all that training, he must have mistaken them... Realizing the gravity of his mistake, he descended into tears, sobbing abysmally into his hands. He couldn't even bring himself to words; he was a failure, he had failed Donavan, and he hardly felt the desire even to continue to live.
Donavan swallowed and pulled Faustino into his arms soothingly. Perceval’s letter had been desperate, panicked, and angry; he’d accused Faustino of ruining everything and blamed Donavan for not doing anything to fix it. But Donavan knew that now there was nothing that could be done and that the mistake had been unavoidable. Obviously, the double had been sitting in for the Queen when they hadn’t expected and it was certainly not Faustino’s fault. “It’s okay…” Donavan murmured leaving a kiss on Faustino’s head and leaning into him softly. “It’s not your fault. We had bad information… We can work something out.”
Faustino shook his head, completely breaking down into his sobs. He had ruined everything, ruined everything for Donavan, and even after Donavan had come in to save him, even then, he let Donavan get hurt and wasn't any help at all. He was a terrible failure, and it seemed, all of a sudden, as if the world was closing in around him. Choking on his tears, he descended into a fit of coughing and doubled over, not able to bear the thought of looking Donavan in the eye after everything he had done.
“Faustino…” Donavan tilted his head up so that he could look him in the eyes and gently began wiping away his tears. “Don’t cry. It doesn’t matter to me. You did exactly what was expected of you. I don’t care if she’s still alive.” He smiled reassuringly. “As far as I’m concerned, that bitch can keep doing whatever she wants. We’ll stay together and we’ll be safe, regardless.” Donavan promised, pulling Faustino into his arms once again.
Faustino sniffed, looking back into Donavan's eyes pitifully. "You...you promise, Donavan...? You promise we'll always be together...?" Thoughts of his failure brought back memories of being trapped in that cold, dark dungeon, all alone, the promise of death on the horizon, and he shuddered reflexively. "I'm scared, Donavan... what if something bad happens to us because I failed?!" And then he was all in tears again.
“I promise.” Donavan said firmly. “I wouldn’t want it any other way, you know.” He felt Faustino tremble in his arms and held him a little closer, looking down gently into his eyes. “Don’t be scared. If anything happens, than I swear to you that we can make the best of it.”
Giving up, Faustino collapsed forward into Donavan's embrace, crying into his chest. "I'm sorry, Donavan," he choked out. "I love you..." Because that was the truth, and in the end, that was all he had to offer. In the aftermath of his tremendous failure, regardless of anything he had done or didn't do, he would always love Donavan with everything he had, and no matter what else happened, he would do whatever it took for Donavan.
“I love you too, Faustino. I’ll always love you.” He smiled truthfully and leaned back against the wall with Faustino still in his arms. “Everything will be all right.” As Donavan spoke, the door flew open once more and he stiffened, glaring up at the door where the maid had just reappeared. He considered shooting her for interrupting, but at the look on her face decided to hear her out.
“Someone’s here, sir! He’s looking for Laurent D’Aubigne, and even though I told him no one by that name lives here, he refused to wait outside.” The maid said hesitantly, flinching away from his cruel gaze. “He’s downstairs now, sir! We’re trying to tell him no one is home, but he just won’t leave! He’ll try to follow me, I’m sure!”
“Get down there and get whoever it is out of my house!” Donavan shouted. The woman jumped and hurried out of the room to obey his command, but Donavan couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He retrieved his gun and looked down at Faustino concernedly. “Get ready for anything, Faustino.”
Faustino stiffened and nodded, rolling over to retrieve the handgun he knew was in the bedside table. Stumbling to his feet and realizing he was somewhat lightheaded, he tried to get control of himself and held the gun firmly. He would protect Donavan now, he swore to himself. He had messed everything else up, but not now, not again. Whoever came in, when Donavan said the word, he would shoot, and shoot to kill. He wouldn't fail again, he would prove himself to Donavan. Donavan, after all, was the most important person in the world to him, and he had to do something to prove he was worthy, to earn Donavan's love.
Donavan followed Faustino to his feet and quickly moved across the room to a large bureau where he stored a vast collection of weapons. Arming himself with some of what remained after rescuing Faustino, he beckoned for Faustino to follow him out into the hall. There, he leaned over the banister hoping to catch a glimpse of the invader on the first floor. While he could see nothing, voices echoed up from below him and Donavan gripped the banister angrily.
“Out of my way!” Donavan heard Dragomir bellow. “I know he’s here.”
“Dragomir,” Donavan hissed, turning to Faustino. “We have to leave. Right now.” If Dragomir knew that Donavan had taken over the mansion, there was no telling how long they had before the entire military swarmed the place, and now that Algernon’s plan had failed—and in fact had failed because of them—Donavan knew that there was nothing Algernon would or could do to protect them, and Perceval certainly wouldn’t grant them asylum. “Grab what you can. We’re going out the window.”
Faustino, however, also heard the voice, and ground his teeth angrily. "No—Donavan—" His voice trembled with urgency and anger, and he swallowed, trying to get a hold of himself as his grip on his gun tightened. "I want to kill him. I want to kill Dragomir. If we just run away now, he'll—" He could feel his pulse coursing through his veins, and suddenly he was desperate, desperate to prove himself, to protect Donavan, to get rid of that piece of trash who had ruined Donavan's—and therefore his own—life. "Please, Donavan!" he almost cried, feeling as if he might die to run away now.
Donavan turned to Faustino, both surprised and angered by Faustino’s dissent. “No,” Donavan said tightly, “We are leaving. We’ll go where he can’t follow us.” Donavan narrowed his eyes and looked at Faustino once more before heading back toward the bedroom door. “I can’t let you fight him.”
The tone in Donavan's voice made Faustino's stomach clench and his heart hurt, and looking back at him, he suddenly felt lost and defenseless. Everything that he had been working so hard to build up for the past days, his protective barrier of "being a grown up" suddenly crumbled to pieces, as did his resolve, and he once more descended into tears. For the first time in so long, he felt without purpose, without direction. He could do nothing, and so he simply stood, arms hanging limply at his sides, and cried.
Donavan inhaled sharply and swung back around, kneeling hurriedly in front of Faustino. He hadn’t intended to make him cry—Donavan never wanted to make Faustino cry—but he had to make their situation clear and he had to do it fast enough so that they still had time to get out. “Faustino…” he said uneasily, taking Faustino’s hands into his own. He felt rotten for speaking so harshly to him, and yet, he didn’t really know what to do about it; they simply didn’t have time. “Faustino, we have to get away from here. Away from Dragomir.” He swallowed, thinking of how best to explain his urgency. “I want just as much as you to see him dead, but right now, I know that he could kill me. And if something happened to you, and I couldn’t help you, if anything happened at all, I would never be able to forgive myself.” He looked Faustino directly in the eyes and wiped away his tears gently with his thumb. “I love you Faustino, and that’s why I don’t want to take any risks. That’s why we need to get away.”
Faustino nodded quickly, wiping at his tears with the backs of his hands, feeling foolish and childish for crying that way. Donavan was right—Donavan, of course, was always right, and he couldn't waste any more time being a crybaby. Kissing Donavan quickly, he drew away and grabbed his rapier, holstering his gun and tucking his dagger away, under his belt. That, it seemed, was all for which he had time, because he could hear the footsteps getting louder now, and so he took Donavan's hand, looking up to him and sniffing away the last of his tears. "I'm ready, Donavan."
“Let’s go.” Donavan smiled with a nod, relived. He took Faustino by the hand and led him over to the bedroom window, which opened onto the pitched roof of the second story. They didn’t have time; Donavan could hear footsteps in the hall just beyond the shut door of the bedroom. They needed to get out, but Donavan couldn’t help but hesitate. He was nervous about escaping from the roof for the same reason he was nervous about standing his ground and fighting Dragomir. If Faustino slipped, if he himself slipped, Donavan wasn’t sure if he’d be strong enough in his injured state either one of them. “Be very careful,” Donavan said gravely, kneeling to lift Faustino onto the sill. He winced at the pain in his arm and shoulder and clenched his jaw to keep it from showing. “Try to work your way down by moving in a zigzag downward.” Donavan instructed as he, too, climbed out onto the steep incline. “Go slow. I’ve got an eye on the window.”
"O-okay..." Faustino replied, swallowing as he realized how scary it was to be climbing down the roof this way. Clinging onto the shingles, he inched in a downward diagonal, as Donavan had told him. He tried his hardest not to think about the ground; he hadn't been trained for something like this, and it was really terrifying. Remembering that Donavan had said to zigzag, he began to change directions, but his movement was too sharp and his hand slipped, breaking off a piece of the shingle so that he lost his balance and rocked backwards unsteadily, his footing slipping. Whimpering in fear, he watched the broken pieces fall down to the ground, and he almost screamed, but he knew he had to keep control of himself. Taking a deep breath, he swung his arm back up and this time successfully grasped the roofing, swallowing gratefully and slowly continuing.
Donavan’s breath caught in his throat when he heard the shingle break and Faustino’s sound of distress, and without thinking, he attempted to swing his weight around to catch Faustino. However, in letting go of the roof with one arm, a wave of pain swept through him and his bicep spasmed just under the shoulder wound. Gasping, Donavan looked over his shoulder down at Faustino, unable to help without losing his own balance. “Are you all right?” Donavan shuddered through his pain, relieved to see Faustino still clinging to the roof below him.
"Y-yeah," Faustino replied with an affirmative nod, but his voice was shaking, and though he was trying desperately to keep under control, his body was beginning to tremble, too, with exertion and with fear. "It's just—" he didn't want to say it, he had to be an adult, but yet, his will was breaking, no matter how hard he tried, and... "It's just that I'm frightened, Donavan..."
“I know…” Donavan agreed. His arms ached and the shoulder wound had opened again under its bandage. “We’re almost to the balcony.” Somehow, Donavan managed to say it almost cheerfully, as if to spur them both forward.
After several arduous minutes of climbing, they were both finally positioned over the balcony and Donavan let go, sliding easily down to the solid surface form which he could reach Faustino. His arms shook terribly just in lifting Faustino’s weight, and, after setting him down gently, Donavan folded them to give them a rest. “From here we can get to the fence and climb down that. We’re almost out.” They’d already endured one escape, and Donavan hated that this time they had to run from their own home and from Dragomir, no less.
Faustino nodded, going first towards the fence, as per Donavan's instructions. Carefully, he clung to the posts and lowered himself to the ground, but after the roof, the fence was a lot less intimidating, and so soon, he was jumping the last few feet to the ground, waiting for Donavan to follow and feeling his heart pounding in his chest, knowing that they were almost safe for sure.
Dragomir scrambled from room to room, desperately trying to locate Laurent D’Aubigne. He knew someone had to be home, or else one of the maids—whose companions he’d been forced to threaten at gun point to let him into the main part of the house—wouldn’t have run upstairs in such a hurry to presumably inform the master of the house that there was an intruder. Dragomir searched four rooms, all of which, strangely, were entirely empty of furnishings before he at last found himself in what he assumed was the master bedroom. Still, there was no one in sight and Dragomir was about to turn back in hopes of finding a study, or something, when he noted that the window was open.
On a whim, he jogged forward towards it to investigate, intending simply to check if there was a balcony, or anything like that, before moving on. Looking out across the yard, Dragomir could see nothing, but as his eyes wondered across the roof top, he noted several places where the shingles had been freshly ripped out of place. Suspicious, Dragomir climbed out onto the roof and stood, bracing himself against the wall and climbing slightly higher. It seemed ridiculous that someone would try to escape out such a window…and yet…
Dragomir spotted the two figures just as they were climbing down from the fence on the other side of the building. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took aim and fired at Donavan. His angle was bad, and so he wasn’t surprised when the shot missed; he took off running along the rooftop, desperate for a better shot, and watched, with growing anger and desperation as Donavan took hold of the little boy’s arm and took off running, getting further and further out of range.
Dragomir took another desperate shot, and in doing so, he lost his footing and dropped the weapon, scrambling to get hold of one of the shingles. He’d missed the shot, he knew it, and now there was no way he could catch up to them. Cursing, Dragomir reoriented himself and looked around for the dropped weapon, and upon seeing it on the balcony, eased his way down to retrieve it. Donavan was gone and he’d managed to break Esparanza out of prison. Dragomir holstered the weapon, and in his frustration turned and slammed his foot against the door. The old wood splintered, detaching from its ancient hinges, and Dragomir stormed inside. He’d already failed to kill Donavan so many times…and yet this time…Dragomir got the feeling he’d missed his final chance.
