One: Repentance
There was no way to win her back. Jasper would have to prove, slow and steady, that his feelings for Eleanor were true and extended beyond princess-bodyguard obligation. Perhaps protecting her brother…or doing much of the leg work uncovering who killed the King would be a small step in the process.
Though Eleanor had made it abundantly clear that Jasper was no longer a welcomed ally (the reference to her mother's vagina being a deal breaker and all), Jasper continued to accompany the Princess on all her outings. The club smelled of sweat and smoke. Eleanor was high, her eyes were glazed over and her accent was thick and throaty. Jasper stayed close as she knocked back four shots and took a hit from some random stranger's cigarette. He witnessed her climb to the top, the ultimate peak of ecstasy. She held her arm in the air and her hair bounced and shrouded her face, hiding her true self for just a moment. She hopped about, smiling like a fool; able to forget that she was an addict, fatherless and illegitimate.
Suddenly the hold of ecstasy was released and Jasper helplessly watched her come barreling down from the high in the middle of gyrating bodies, who were oblivious to who she was and careless to her reasons for being there. She was a nobody to them. He assumed her expression was that of utter grief and exhaustion. She had slept a mere 10 hours this month and her slumped shoulders indicated that life and tragedy had finally overcome her. He watched Eleanor's hands flow through her hair, she wasn't about to give up this life; though it would seem she had reached her end.
Jasper followed her home, always a step behind, lurking in the shadows. He watched her slip into her bedroom. It was now or never. Jasper entered the Princess' room. He looked just as haggard as she felt. Eleanor had a line waiting, the white powder beckoning her towards oblivion. But Eleanor held his gaze, intrigued that she had failed at keeping him at a distance. He was the formidable type after all. Perhaps it was her turn to make him beg. And beg he did.
"I'm sorry." It was genuine and Eleanor's façade broke…inside. Outwardly, she was cold and steely. She refused to give in that easily. So, off he went. If he could have turned to her, unraveled the web and bring forth the truth about him and the Queen, if he thought it would make her trust him again, he would have gotten on his knees. But alas, Jasper sensed his prior indiscretion with the Queen was just an excuse in which to hide behind. He made her feel and Eleanor would scour the world for the one drug that would erase all o' that; even if it killed her.
The burn of snorting stung her eyes though a sense of relief flooded her veins; the numbness would follow suit. She gave herself 10 seconds, If she still felt the urge to chase after Jasper, drop the shenanigans, let her guard down, and be honest for once in her life, she would go. One, two, three...ten! She flung open the door ready to shout after him, stop him from leaving and beg him back into her bed.
"Beck!" It was disappointment, or subsequently the fogginess that started to overpower her, but he was not the expected suitor. Eleanor was skeptical of Beck's intentions. She may have been high, be she still had some wits about her. She would not invite him into her bed; she wanted to preserve Jasper's lingering scent. For now, however, Jasper would remain at a distance, maybe this was divine intervention; both needed space and what better way to torment than with a venomous love triangle?
