When we were younger my brother and I had shared a bedroom, until mother passed away last winter. I still remember it like it was yesterday….
Mother had always been a staunch royalist, just like the rest of the village, but with her it was a fanatic sort of loyalty. As I'd mentioned before her father had been a personal guard for the old Polish Pretender, the father-in-law of Louis XV, as had Grandpa. Both men had been close friends during the war of the Polish succession and when they been retired after years of loyal service Grandfather had merely asked for the money to set up a tavern, but Mother's father had asked for a letter of recommendation for any son he would have, a bold request for a career sargent, but considering he'd saved the duke's life both during the war and after the war during a hunting trip the duke was more than happy to comply.
Gramps had kept it close his entire life waiting for the day he could give it to his son to use for his military career, but six daughters later and the dream was passed to a grandson. As mother was the eldest she received the letter as part of her inheritance. When we were born it became her life-long dream to see us as officers in the king's army. When the king had been deposed and later executed it had crushed her heart.
After father's actions leading that raid on the Jacobins, she'd kept hope in her heart that one of the coalitions would manage to beat back the Revolutionaries and restore the monarchy. But as several coalitions were thrown back her spirits began to wane.
When me and Gaston were seventeen personal tragedy struck. Father had caught some horrible fever that had left him bedridden, a bed he would never leave.
Something had broken in mother that day and from then on she'd merely...existed. Meanwhile Gaston and I had to try and scramble to manage the tavern while being barely grown men. Through the entire thing Gaston had worked like a damn hero, serving drinks, acting as a bouncer, leading men in songs and encouraging them to party it up which meant even more drinking.
Meanwhile I'd had to take over managing the finances. This had been mother's job but after father…. To my eternal gratitude Laurette had also stepped in to help, Gaston had never noticed but considering he'd work night and day as the front man while Laurette gave me a real crash course on how to manage the books, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Her selfless act had ended the slight grudge we'd mutually held against each other after that incident in the book-shop.
Sure she always said it was really for Gaston, but I could tell it was more for his ears than mine. Claudette had also been supportive, she'd volunteered to take care of mother while me, Gaston and her sisters handled the ground floor. Mother wasn't catatonic, but she seemed so lost that she wouldn't take care of herself unless someone reminded her. Claudette, commanding Claudette, used to guiding her sisters along, was that someone.
In the midst of all this madness Paulette also stepped in, bringing in enough food to feed us several times over every couple of days. If it wasn't for her me and Gaston would have likely collapsed from hunger at some point as we barely remembered to eat let alone cook anything.
It had been those insane several months that had solidified my...well I guess you could call it affections, for Claudette. While Laurette was still a bit standoffish and Paulette was focused on Gaston and feeding us. It had been Claudette of all people to comfort me one evening as I was heading up for bed and she was heading down after getting my mother to bed herself.
We'd met each other at the top of the stairs, she had just closed my pa...mother's bedroom door. We made eye contact and I was at a loss for words for a moment, then I said. "Well...how is she?" My voice trying not to crack.
"She's...about the same, no better, no worse," she answered. Her eyes looked me over and concern was obvious on her face.
"What about you Pierre? How are you?" She asked in return.
"Well...about as well as I can...considering the circumstances." I said, fighting back tears. I hadn't wept much when my grandparents died in my old life, somewhat more when my aunt passed not too long before the transfer...but this...this was a new type of hell. I still remembered Tom's father and I'd never forget him. But Jacques LeGume was the man I had called father for seventeen years, and despite my early efforts to the contrary had been father in my heart of hearts for a long while. Jacques had taught me to read (French), Jacques had tossed me in the air like I was a toy when I was five again and just enjoying being a kid. Jacques had comforted me when I'd come to him crushed about how all three of the du Rhin sisters had stonewalled me in favor of Gaston. Jacques had been a good father, a loving father, he'd been a barrel of laughs and was the life of the party. Gaston had gotten that joyful charisma from him in spades and both of us had his massive strength.
Jacques had been a town hero for years always using his great strength to help people out whenever they needed him and Gaston and I had followed in his footsteps. Right before the fever had hit a storm had knocked over a tree onto a roof of a farmhouse which had pinned a child underneath. When father had heard the news he'd come out immediately through the torrential rain and in feat of strength that people still talked about had lifted one end of the tree clean over his head and allowing the child to escape.
Jacques was a larger than life man and it had been like a lightning bolt out of the clear blue sky when he'd taken ill almost immediately after and died less than a week later. His great strength gone almost overnight. But through all of it he was nothing but smiles even at the very end and he said his good-byes to all of us before taking his last rites. He'd passed away as the sun was shining and I swore I saw a flurry of the whitest feathers I'd ever seen in my life flutter by the window when he passed.
"Pierre?" Claudette asked me again, seeing the obvious pain on my face. I kept it up for a moment longer, then sobbed, "Oh God, Why?!" and collapsed to my knees, my big frame wracking with sobs. White hot tears escaped from the corner of my eyes.
Suddenly slender arms wrapped around my head and pressed me close to a warm chest. I heard a female voice humming a soothing lullaby many mothers in our village sang to their children and my head was slowly rocked back and forth.
Thinking mother had come out of her fugue I relaxed and just cried, I wasn't one to loudly bawl, but my body continued to wrack with sobs. When I looked up through my tear blurred vision I was surprised that it was Claudette, not mother, who was still in her room, who'd been comforting me this entire time. Once I'd figured out my predicament I simply stared. Claudette smiled and kissed me on the forehead, "Feeling better?"
Voice rough from crying I said, "A little...thank-you…."
Stroking my hair she smiled again and helped me up to my feet and led me to me and Gaston's room. "Good-night Pierre."
"G-good-night, "I said, my heart still beating hard from her closeness as well as the kiss she gave me. I had no idea if that kiss was merely one soul comforting another or maybe the hope of something else, but either way it gave me comfort in one of the blackest days of my life.
Shaking out of the memories that had sprung up my brother was completely silent as we made our way through the tavern and up the stairs to his bedroom. The upper floor of the tavern had five rooms, two were used by me and my brother, the other three were rooms for customers or travelers that needed to spend somewhere for the night before moving on.
I got my brother sitting in a chair by the bed. Making sure he wasn't going to fall over I said, "Alright, don't move."
He just sat there unspeaking, but his eyes followed me as I left the room to get some water and a clean rag and some bandages. After so many bar fights I'd gotten skilled at the sort of first aid needed after such fracases. When I returned, my brother hadn't moved.
Sighing I took the cloth, soaked it and began cleaning his face, wiping the blood from his busted lips and nose. As I worked I kept silent before finally speaking. "You know you brought this on yourself."
Gaston didn't say anything, he just stared forward, I knew he conscious so I just continued. "I'm just glad this didn't end with you being badly hurt, or worse."
That prompted a response, "Rich you to say that considering you're the one who did this to me. A bit hopo-, hyper-, happy-"
"Hypocritical, of me," I finished for him.
He glared at me for a moment then noded, "Yes, that's what I meant."
"Considering you would have gotten killed I think a busted face and being scared by sad Thierry is a good exchange." I answered, wringing out the rag before starting again.
He kept silent for a moment before saying, "I could have taken the Beast."
"Sure you could have, barreling in there with just a bow and your hunting knife. Didn't even bring your gun. Just taking on a magical monster in a magical castle that's its home turf with who knows what else. Real brillant there brother." I answered.
Grabbing hold of his face I continued, "And that monster was the Dauphin under a curse." I then turned his head back and forth to make sure I hadn't missed anything.
Satisfied I continued, "Alright your face is cleaned up, let's get you out of those wet clothes, need to wrap your ribs anyway."
Moving quickly I helped my brother out of his clothes, wincing a bit at seeing the bruising he took from my beating. Looking back I wasn't proud of what I did, but I understood it was the only way to stop my brother's madness.
I quickly wrapped the bandages around his torso and then helped him into some dry clothes. "Right then let's head down to the big Oak. Think you can handle it."
Gaston gave me a look that could have either melted steel or frozen the heart of a star and quickly strode out the door. His face never gave a sign of any pain but I could see from his stiff and ramrod gait that he was actually in a great deal of pain. I sighed and followed after him, closing the door as I did.