[Backpost: Calista & Jacques] Hellbound

[Jacques de Layne]

Set the second night after Marcel and Coretta's wedding.

I'd walked out of the ceremony, Maigrey on my arm and father behind us. Her touch burned. In fact, everything burned, my stomach felt tight and my throat tighter yet. Elua, the woman I would have married was beautiful, and young. And what now? What of my future?

I'd been silent in the carriage ride to the inn, gritting my teeth silently.

I'd been silent when Maigrey and father went to bed, too. I didn't care to know what ensued between them. Instead, I'd given word at the hostel that I had no intention of sleeping in, nor of being about the next day. The note said, simply, Father, I shall see you on the pier in two days.

I could not express more, really. Instead, I'd wandered in the streets of the City of Elua, until I'd found myself sitting in some tavern on Night's Doorstep, where I drank my anger quietly, until the sun rose. I walked again, then, or rather, stumbled, until I found a place by the temple of Eisheth, under a tree. There, I'd napped a little, woken by curious street children, just in time to wander back into the Artisan's district.

I ordered more to drink there. And I drank, and I drank. I wanted to find that feeling of light happiness that mead usually gave me. Instead, I only found more despair, and so I drank more, tasting my own tears mingled with the sickeningly sweet liquor.

[Calista nó Valerian]

In the midst of tragedy and despair, the city celebrated, not only the union of two, but the crowning of them as our King and Queen. It was bittersweet as all times like this are, but in the end, the daily lives of the royals mattered little to me. I was too far removed, and though I'd served more than once prince, I was naught more than a pretty to them, a good lay and an easily forgotten memory.

But, that was my life, and one I'd accepted long since. That I would never love I knew, but I did care for those who deserved such feelings, and even for some who didn't. Of late I'd found I cared more for Demetrius no Mandrake more than anyone before him, and I'd spent the night before with him, wrapped in his long arms, doing his bidding, seeking his favors, and feeling the gentle grace of his lips on my mouth. I was still riding on a high from it, but I needed to tamper it and quell it, and staying in Valerian wasn't doing it for me.

So it was that I set out, doing my best not to skip along in my girlish giddiness, looking for Elua knew what to distract me. I'd bought a silly little trinket I found pretty, a pin of an eagle, wings spread, head held aloft and defiant. I had it fastened to my dress even though I knew it didn't fit me right, but it was nice, and I didn't right care what anyone thought of me at the moment. Coming 'round a corner showed the Generous Patron to me, and I slipped in its doors, looking about curiously. It was fairly busy, which surprised me, and thus I took a seat at the bar near some sadly looking fellow, and ordered not a tea like I normally did, but a stout mug of ale.

[Jacques de Layne]

There was something soothing to the haze of drunkenness – something that made me feel alive and something that made me dead. I felt sick to my stomach, as if all the emotions of the past months wanted to expel themselves from my body through a retch that would flood the world with bile. Instead of emptying myself, though, I just drank more, and muttered to myself.

“Bloody bastard,” I said to myself under my breath, “could have been there myself – fucking the stepmother and getting rewarded for it. She's not even pretty. Stole my wife he did. My wife, my land, my throne, fuck, my throne, fuck, I could have been king.”

I'd never had such ambitions, but in the parlays that had preceded Maigrey and Marcel's debacle, I'd come to accept it, like a duty that had to be done. I would have given it my heart, my life for the country. Instead, Terre d'Ange was now cursed with a drunkard and a rake for a king. The thought horrified me, and I felt even more angry.

“And now I'm nothing,” I repeated to myself, and the words felt like a stinging dart pricking the very depth of my soul. A steward. A glorified servant, that was all I would be, thence. Confined to Layne, which I loved, but which I would forever see from afar, like a man who loves a married woman. “Nothing, nothing, Elua, I'm nothing now,” I said again, louder, and my face fell into my arms on the bar, and I cried.

[Calista nó Valerian]

No sooner had my order for ale been ordered than the man next to me started mumbling to himself, and I gave him a sideways glance, unsure of how to react. I couldn't understand much, something about f -- ornicating, about stealing a wife? That made no sense, and even less yet that he could have become king. King of what? His home? Poor darling, someone must have taken his love and married her.

I felt bad instantly for him, and dropped my gaze, fingering the skirts covering my left thigh. My good mood didn't flee, but was more subdued, like a cloud over a sun, but the sun was still there, hiding. My ale delivered, I flashed a smile at the barkeep and lifted it to my lips, taking a little sip, something I knew Sinclair would mock me for if he ever saw me. Ale is not for sipping, Calista. If you're going to have an ale, you have to slurp it, and take it like a man.

Or something like that.

brushing a bit of foam from my upper lip, I was setting it down when the man spoke again, and again I looked at him out of reflex. Oh sweet Elua, his love had been stolen. Very quietly, ver tentatively, I reached out and touched his shoulder. "Monsieur," I said softly, my voice almost a whisper. "Monsieur, oh please don't cry, it'll be alright.."

[Jacques de Layne]

There was a voice – a quiet, sweet little voice, telling me the most inane thing.

It will be alright.

Of course it wouldn't. It couldn't. A man had been made king in my place, a man who was my brother, and who was more broken than I'd ever been. A king cannot be unmade – not without villainy, not without murder, not without death.

As much as I ached, I could not bear to think of it.

Blasted seven hells! I was loyal. Even hurt, broken, betrayed, empoverished and enslaved, I was loyal, still, to my king. To my brother.

“It'll never be alright,” I told the stranger without looking. “I won't hurt him.”

[Calista nó Valerian]

He didn't look at me, but neither did he pull away or slap at me. Emboldened just a little, I brushed my fingers over his shoulder in a soothing manner, much like I would a child in the nursery, tending to it when it cried, missing its mother.

"That just makes you the better man," I said softly. "It doesn't matter what anyone says; you're hurt, and you're not seeking retribution."

I wished I could do more for him, soothe him by taking away some of his pain, but I had little to go on to relate to. No one had ever asked to marry me, and I didn't ever see it happening, either. Prince Gratien had wanted to keep me for his mistress and I'd refused him. Demetrius cared for me, but his place is as Second of Mandrake, not wedding a little Valerian adept.

All I could offer him was care and tenderness, and hoped it would be enough. It wouldn't fix his problems, but mayhap I could make him feel a little better for a short time.

[Jacques de Layne]

The better man. What did that to do me, the better man? I might have been stouter and more stalwart. I might have been better suited for responsibility. That changed nothing to the fact that he was King and I was his steward. To my little brother. Whatever little pride I had was stung in the extreme.

“He's my bloody brother,” I roared, finally looking up at her, angry and irritated. “Would I seem to duel my bloody, filthy rake of a brother? Would I? He is my blood! Elua, who was it that worried for him when he slummed his life away? Who was it? And now – Elua – now...”

I slammed my fist onto the counter, and cried again, breaking down.

I couldnt' say it, could I. My brother the bloody, bollocks-filled King.

[Calista nó Valerian]

Oh the poor, poor thing. He bellowed at me and I jumped a little at the suddenness of it, but I took it in stride, not letting it affect me. I'd been yelled at, screamed at and slapped, knocked over and whipped by men and women both; it was a thing that I was numb to after a time, in the right circumstances. This man hurt, and I drank in his pain, hoping if I could take it away from him, mayhap he wouldn't feel it any more.

"Shh," I whispered softly, watching him, feeling horrible for him. When people were in a state like his, I'd discovered, they either wanted one of two very different things: Pity, or to be left alone. If it were the latter I suspected he would not have been here, talking to -- or yelling at -- me.. but neither did I think he wanted the sympathy to be flung in his face.

So, I took a chance. I reached and touched his hair, caressing it, knowing that even though I was a stranger, I cared. Very gently I brushed my fingers over his head, very softly did I make soothing sounds. Half of me wanted him to lay his head against my breast so I could coddle him properly, but I wasn't going to push him.. this was far, far more than I ever would do normally, but he was so broken, so despondent that I couldn't just leave him like that.

[Jacques de Layne]

I was pressing my forehead to the counter and crying – and the thoughts in my mind turned and turned.

Could I have done anything to avert this? Could I have been any other way, to prevent this... dunk from being the heir to the foremost comté in Eisande, betrothed to the Queen, into being the lowly steward of the same estate?

Already, I imagined it. Jacques, tending to the books. Jacques, talking to the peasants. Jacques, trying to settle disputes, but with only borrowed authority that would need a final seal. Jacques, the steward, the servant, the destitute. Jacques, forever obedient.

“I could have been King,” I rasped after a moment.

She was touching my hair, making soft sound, whoever she was, and after a moment, I flung my half-empty mug over the counter, and tried to stand.

“I'm sorry, Lady. I should not be such a disturbance.”

Rather, I should be dead. Wouldn't that fix it? It would. I couldn't stand to face the morrow.

[Calista nó Valerian]

He could have been King? It made no sense to me, but he was drunken and upset enough that I didn't pay too much attention to it. I smoothed his hair again, my fingers gentle, caressing across the silky strands before he sat back suddenly, thrusting his mug away and wobbling as if he wanted to stand. I jumped a little at the suddenness, my eyes trained up on him.

"If you were a disturbance, I wouldn't have remained sitting by you," I said softly, giving him a gentle, kindly smile. "Please.. let me walk with you wherever it is that you wish to go. We can talk, or walk in silence, whichever it is that pleases you."

I was worried, truth be, that something untoward would happen to him if he walked along. Elua knew that there were cutpurses, and he seemed unstable enough that I wasn't sure if he'd let them rob him blind or if he'd try doing something idiotically valiant.. like defend himself. He'd be easy picking. Very carefully, almost timidly so, I reached and took his hand up in mine, holding it gently between both my palms, fingers wrapping carefully around it.

[Jacques de Layne]

Was she an angel, come down to soothe my woes? She had every look of it, her face such a pure shape of empathy, and eyes like a deep pond. For a moment, I just blinked at her, eyes wide, tears streaming to the side.

“You don't understand,” I said again. “I have no where to go and nowhere to be, except to be a servant where I was raised to be the master.”

And again, I slumped onto my stool, my hand still in hers through some unexpected miracle which I could hardly explain.

“He fell in love with the wrong woman. He had to fall in love with the wrong woman. The one woman he couldn't have. The bastard. And it had to fall on me. Father could have done anything. Send him off to study in Tiberium, for all I know. He could have had a use for it. Put something in his drunkard's brain. But no. He took my life and gave it to him, instead. And I'd done nothing wrong.”

[Calista nó Valerian]

Oh, the poor darling! His brother had fallen in love with the woman this man adored - it must be that, else why would he be so terribly distraught? And to have his father side with his brother on the matter as well..

I squeezed his hand before caressing my fingers over it, hoping to soothe him, and I watched him with sympathy and empathy. "Then the woman is no true one at all, to encourage two brothers to compete for her affections. You poor thing."

Abandoning the caresses momentarily, I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed his knuckles."Take a walk with me, please? The fresh air may do you some good." I lowered his hand while talking, afraid of being too brash; it was too engrained in me to worry about being too forward that I thought I'd likely be like this the rest of my life. I held his hand, gentle still, all but ignoring the fresh ale sitting on the counter; this was much more important as far as I was concerned.

[Jacques de Layne]

I felt my mouth twist bitterly. If the Queen was untrue, then oh, how the country was in trouble. But the girl was wrong, of course.

“I dun wanna walk,” I said, much like a pouty toddler. “I wanna drink! Barkeep, more!”

There was bemused blinking, but I paid well, and a mug was dropped on the counter, sploshing onto my sleeve. I honored him with a grunt, and groaned, “And something for the lady, whatever she wants.”

I blinked at her, then, and said, “She's nice.”

And with that, everything around me was black.

[Calista nó Valerian]

He pouted, and I quite literally expected him to stick his lower lip out as well, but instead he turned and demanded more drink. Surely he wouldn't receive one, not with the way he was acting and the fact that he was so obviously dr--

The drink plunked down, and I bit back a sigh, the barkeep saved from my disapproving glare only because the man before me labeled me as nice... and then passed out.

No sooner did his head hit the counter and his body begin to slump sideways towards me than I gasped, my hands shooting out to help push him back onto his stool. Once satisfied he wouldn't topple over again, I scowled at the man behind the counter - a very fierce expression for me at least. Condemning the man burned my tongue, but instead of saying the words I wanted to, I instead asked for water. Cold water.

It took but a moment more, and deftly I slid the mans drink away from him, telling the barkeep to take it and my ale away and disperse of them. Once gone, I began the sluggish process of trying to gently shake the man away, urging him with the sound of my voice; he needed to go home, or at least to a rented room. "Monsieur, please, wake up!" A little cold water, cupped in my hand and splashed on his face, then wiped off carefully by my fingers as I continued to vocally urge him.

[Jacques de Layne]

There was the sudden feeling of coldness and wetness, and my eyes opened, first a tiny slit to let in the light, then wider.

Ah, the nice woman. And my head hurt, Elua.

I forced myself up, forced my eyes open, tried to somehow find some manner of countenance. She was beautiful. Delicate like a dark flower. Ah, a night-blooming flower. Maybe she was an adept, who knew? I'd not been enough up the hill to tell.

“I'm so sorry,” I said as I pressed my palm into my forehead. “-- too much to drink. I'm so sorry, m'lady.”

[Calista nó Valerian]

He came to, slowly, rousing from his sudden sleep much more languidly than he'd fallen into it. I gave him a gentle smile as I drew a rag the barkeep had given me over his face, wiping away the water I'd splashed on with infinate care.

"It's alright, truly... it sounds like you've been through many hardships. Let me help you home.. I couldn't bear to know I abandoned anyone like this."

I had naught a carriage nor a horse, but I did have legs, and though I'd been born without much of the thirst for learning, Shemhazai had blessed me with patience. The smile on my face kind, I brushed the cloth over his cheek again, gentle, a shade off of feather-light.

[Jacques de Layne]

She was touching my face with a cool cloth, and that woke me up, just as much as her words did, and after a moment, fully awake (but with the mother of all migraines), I reached for her wrist, to stop her.

“No, not home,” I said slowly. “I don't really have one anymore. You see, they took it away and gave it to my wayward brother, so that he would stop coveting my father's wife. Better yet, they gave him the throne of Terre d'Ange and the woman who was to be my wife.”

I looked at her, then realized I'd said all this aloud, and let out a curse.

[Calista nó Valerian]

His hand enveloped my wrist, but it wasn't an angry action, and I paused immediately, deferring to him without a second thought. I held still for as long as he kept my wrist, not pulling away, but when he spoke.. My eyes widened, and I gasped.

This was our new Kings brother? I knew little of the new addition to the royal family, including the state of his family.. little chance of I ever having need to know such things as it were, not unless they contracted me. And to stumble across him.. Oh the poor thing! A few mumbles arose from next to us, and a glance showed eyes were turning towards u.. no, not us, towards him.

"A room, then, my lord?" I asked softly, giving him his due title now that I knew who he was, at least roughly. I still didn't know his name, nor did he know mine, but in the light of things it didn't really matter. "I don't know if I'd suggest here, though..." I added just as quietly, not quiet darting any looks around, but my eyes flickered up to his in meaning.

[Jacques de Layne]

Oh, but the way she looked up at me – did I instill fear in her, or was it something else. She was beautiful, I noticed, suddenly. For a moment I just looked at her eyes, and traced the shape of her lips with mine.

And I didn't even know her name.

“Who are you?” I asked, and then, realizing the inanity of the question, I pressed my hand to my forehead. “No, I mean, what's your name. But also who are you, if you want.”

A pause, then.

“I guess we're doing this all wrong. I'm Jacques. Leave the house name out for now. You figured it out already, didn't you?”

[Calista nó Valerian]

He watched me as I surely watched him for that scarce moment before I recollected myself, and I colored under the sudden scrutiny of his eyes, something I'd been free from before now. His question and subsequent palming of his forehead allowed me to relax a little, and I gave him a gentle smile. He didn't seem inclined to go anywhere, and so I gave over on it, and with a graceful, small twist of my wrist, I freed myself from his grasp, albeit gently.

"It would have been difficult for me not to have, my Lord," I replied, the smile on my mouth growing a little. "But I can pretend not to know, if it helps. I'm Calista nó Valerian," I replied smoothly, and it felt.. right. For the first time in a decade I thought about what it would have been like to give the surname I was born with, but it wasn't who I was. I was a Valerian, cast off by her family eleven years back, and I didn't look back. "As for who I am.. I'm just a girl tonight. I was out shopping a bit, and stopped in here to get a drink before heading back to my House. I don't mind staying, though," I replied, hoping he didn't think I was anxious to leave. My little speech, too, was more than I normally said, especially to people I didn't know, (and to brothers of the King!), but something in him, in the way he looked so sad, so lost, brought it out of me.

[Jacques de Layne]

Her hand free, I put mine on the counter, and sighed, and gestured for water. An adept – I'd been bawling at an adept, and who knew now what rumors would crawl through Mont-Nuit. Ah. Did I care? Yes, of course. Angry as I was about what had happened, Marcel's name did not deserve to be dragged in mud. I sighed.

“You don't have to stay, Calista no Valerian, regardless of who I am,” I said hoarsely. “Don't feel obligated, and don't pity me. I'll be fine.”

Eventually. I had no idea when that would be. The thought of taking up the mantle of the steward to my own birthright made me sick in the pit of my belly.

[Calista nó Valerian]

He sighed and turned away from me, and I wasn't sure whether he was dismissing me or was trying to give me the option of leaving. Either way I didn't like it, and my brows dropped in a soft frown, though he didn't see it, not having turned away from me as he did.

"I don't feel obligated," I said, somewhat upset with his change in attitude towards me. He was like quicksilver, always changing, and I didn't know what to expect next. "And with all due respect, monsieur, I was trying to help before I knew your surname... but if you prefer I leave, I.."

My voice trailed off, and I bit my lower lip, my cheeks flaming. For a horrific moment I was frozen, my words playing over in my head, before I immediately dropped my gaze to my lap, pulling a couple of small coins out of my purse to pay for my mostly untouched ale. Gods, what was wrong with me tonight? He wished me gone, and leave I would, my emotions conflicting, but the hint taken.

[Jacques de Layne]

I might not have seen her face, but one isn't groomed to run the largest estate in Eisande without knowing when someone is upset, if only by tone. I sighed and rubbed my face, then reached for her wrist.

“I don't want you to feel forced,” I said, and it was an effort to speak slowly, quietly, because my tongue felt a bit too thick, “but the company is welcomed.”

A pause, then, and I said, a bit quieter yet, “Would you say a room at Valerian would do?”

Elua, I could afford it. I never went. But it seemed it might do me good, this night.

[Calista nó Valerian]

I saw him move out of the corner of my eye as I sat the coins on the counter, but before I could even stand my wrist was caught up in his hand again, freezing me where I sat. He was drunk, but making an effort to either sober up or sound more sober; either way his words worked. I watched his face as my blush slowly went away, and tentatively I reached across my body, putting my free hand over his hand where it held my opposite wrist, gently and soothingly covering it.

"I don't feel forced," I said, quite softly. "And I don't feel obligated."

Carefully, slowly I brought my wrist up towards my mouth, my hand moving over his as I bent my head, and I kissed his knuckles gently, softly, before my eyes swept up to look at him again. "You don't need to contract me, my Lord... I'm free, fully marqued."

My smile grew a little, it was such a thrill still to say it. I was free! "If... If I might be so bold..." Elua, I was no good with this. "..we could find a place that is neither yours nor mine? To talk, if you'd like," I added, coloring a little more again.

[Jacques de Layne]

I must have stared at her a good long while.

To talk. She wanted to talk.

“I don't want to talk,” I groaned. “I have nothing helpful to say.”

It was true – and besides, I felt uncomfotable airing out more dirty Layne laundry, now that my name was out – I'd given out more information than I should have already. This was only going to get worse.

[Calista nó Valerian]

The longer he stared at me, the more of a fool I felt, and the more it was beginning to anger me. I'd gone out of my way to help him, and though I didn't expect a thanks or recognition, neither did I appreciate being treated like a.. like a piece of property available for the taking. I didn't necessarily mean we had to talk, but.. Oh Elua what a twisted triangle. My face reddened again, and I sat back away from his hand, though I didn't pull out of his grip.

"I didn't precisely mean talk," I whispered, dropping my eyes away, embarrassed. Oh Naamah, guide me. I brought my gaze back to his again, a hairs breadth away from plucking my wrist out of his grasp and fleeing.

[Jacques de Layne]

I blinked at her again, I'd barely heard her words, and had no idea how to respond.

“Calista no Valerian,” I said, and leaned closer, reaching to grapple with her arm, because she was becoming irritating. “If you want something, bloody say it. I dont' have time or any desire for riddles. You're beautiful. I want you. Will you have me?”

I almost wanted to just crush her lips with mine and bury myself in oblivion, but suddenly I found myself just staring at her, wanting her, and unable to move. I wanted to be sure she wanted this.

Not this. Me.

[Calista nó Valerian]

He leaned in, catching my arm up in his hand now, and I very nearly leaned back away... except for that pull, for the allure of having him get angry with me, short with me, and bluntly saying he wanted me - and yet he didn't just take me.

That was the deciding factor two fold over in my life. From the first, it is why I was at Valerian and not at Eglantine, where I otherwise would have spent my life, and it was why I found myself nodding, a smile flickering to my mouth. "To Valerian," I said, not bothering to clarify why I'd not said it outright. I didn't quite think he cared, and my decision was made; I would submit to him, and become his outlet for at least the night. Taking my purse up in my hand, I shifted a little to signal I was ready, but I couldn't hop down, not without it becoming incredibly awkward physically given the way he held my arm. I wondered then what his mouth tasted like, and just how he wished to extract his sorrow from my body.

I had a feeling I wouldn't soon forget this night.

[Jacques de Layne]

Oh, good. I was – more relieved than I wanted to show, really. And so I released her, threw money at the barkeep, likely more than was owed for us both, and offered her my arm.

“Good,” I said. “I'll take care of the carriage.”

I was thinking of this with no small amount of concern. She'd likely find me terribly boring, by comparison to her more experienced patrons.

[Calista nó Valerian]

My decision to submit to him made, I found almost a weight lifted from my shoulders. I was free, it was delicious and gratifying to think and say it, but confronted with a peer it was utterly terrifying. How did I fit in? How was I supposed to react? My life was that of an adept, and if Valerian ever threw me out for one reason or another, I wasn't completely sure I would be able to cope with the outside world. I wasn't easily changeable like others. In the assignation room, yes, but in my life? Terrifying.. terrifying.

Free from his grip, I watched him toss coins at the barkeep without seeming to even look at what they were, and automatically hold his arm out for me. My smile flashed a little as I stepped down off my barstool and took his arm, straying close to him, but not attached to his hip. "Thankfully it's not too far," I offered quietly, darting a glance up to him with a gentle smile.