Chapter 28 – Testimony's

Synopsis: Blanchefleur was known for her flexible fuse. Lengthened in times of struggle, but it could be drastically reduced in the face of overt disrespect. Fenora's challenging of her leadership has led to the latter. While everything hangs on the testimony of a little girl, Blanchefleur stews in her anger. Will it act as the energy she needs to come out on top, or will another, far more serious outcome result?

Warning: This story is intended for mature audiences only and is not appropriate for minors. This story will have very triggering subject matter throughout. Individual trigger warnings will be placed with chapters when appropriate. Any feedback is really appreciated.

Triggers for this chapter: vivid descriptions of anger, mild violence, description of flesh and bones.

The blonde girl picked at some loose skin around her tiny fingernails before interlocking her hands.

It was as if she wanted to testify to God himself rather than men and women around her.

Blanchefleur snorted at the girl's devout posture.

Remember this girl, you are standing before ME.

While the girls' lips were moving, her words did not reach Blanchefleur's ears.

For their canals were blocked out any sound by a swelling anger.

Birthed from the sheer insolence of this faction.

Oh, how she would cherish cutting them down with every demeaning adjective known to man.

Starting with Fenora.

Blanchefleur narrowed her eyes at her, who seemed to be hanging on every word the girl had to say.

For a woman such a modest background, Fenora possessed an impressive vocabulary.

Those unfamiliar with higher vernacular would still feel the venom of Blanchefleur's words.

Good!

And as Fenora succumbed to her own stupidity, the humiliation would transcend into the hearts and minds of her faction members.

She would never be able to fully protect them if Blanchefleur deemed punishment was in order.

After all, they were openly going against the order she had put literal blood, sweat, and tears into building.

They would all suffer from their adopted leaders' failures!

Foolish actions when their real leader was standing before them.

Their true mother!

Who possessed far finer intellect.

Fairer judgement!

I even possess a far finer cloth!

Blanchefleur clenched her fists.

After all I have seen you conquer. What I have admired. You. Choose. Her?!

She checked on the girl. She was still going on while Ubba knelt down to her height, patiently listening.

I wonder… who does this girl choose?

The girl should be thankful Blanchefleur chose not to interrupt her account, for it might be one of the best weapons against Fenora's treachery.

Blanchefleur further graced the girl by pacing back and forth, giving her as much time as she needed.

The fact such a puny child had the potential power to bring Fenora down made Blanchefleur let out a chiding chuckle.

She scratched her chin.

No. This was not enough.

Simply not enough.

A flood of molten anger seared through Blanchefleur's veins as she glowered at the faction members who had failed to retreat.

She wanted – no – needed to fill them with a whole sense of unholy dread.

Blanchefleur licked her lips and placed one hand on the center of her heart, stroking it tenderly.

Oh… it wouldn't hurt to let it out for a minute or two…

Her chest expanded and heaved up and down slowly, whirling around like gusts of wind caught in a cave.

Pounding on her bones enough to provide ample force for Blanchefleur's rib cage expand past its usual bounds.

It was time for La Bête present itself.

This forced her way into Blanchefleur as Melodie was ripped out of her.

Called to Blanchefleur, gifting her its power.

It lacked the very concept of a master, let alone giving thought to obeying Blanchefleur as one.

Only a temporary aide to help her one day realize her legacy.

But she had pinned it down just enough to appreciate its energy and decided to avenge her family.

Her chest heaved up and down slowly as it continued to expand. The winds intensified in tempo and force.

The La Bête kicked to the winds pace as they tempted it to fully realize its torturous fantasies.

The force of such an awakening would make any regular person faint.

But Blanchefleur was far than petty soul.

A ferocious creature she harbored with affectionate care, albeit while keeping it leashed tight enough to control it.

She knew letting it roam free without restriction was far too dangerous.

Just as it had taken time for Blanchefleur to climb the family's' ranks and build her true family, it took an enormous effort to build the intricate system she used to effectively harness her La Bête's power.

She had woven intricate reigns akin to a spider's web, their strands attached to each and every claw of La Bête.

She had made a cushy cage for it to nestle in out of her very bones and flesh.

It appreciated being able to rest by one of its favorite playthings – Blanchefleur's heart – when it was not called upon.

Promising it would rise to the occasion to slay those who stood in Blanchefleur's way.

A grotesque rearrangement at first glance, one few in this world could muster.

And few should.

Blanchefleur knew she was one of the few who possessed the strength and fortitude to carry on.

Blanchefleur turned her attention to Melisendre.

Her closest companion would never agree, but she should consider herself lucky to have seen it for the first time on that fateful night she had attempted to rescue Blanchefleur.

Many would call this power a curse.

At best, it was mistaken for a necessary evil, like Truman.

Blanchefleur called it her darkest companion.

The bravest of the faction members finally frozen in terror, sensing La Bête's presence.

I brought you into this world we created. And I can most certainly banish you from it!

"La Mère des Bâtards!" Ubba yelled to get her attention. His loud voice interrupted La Bête's drumming enough to get Blanchefleur's attention.

She hadn't noticed a decent amount of time had passed; the girl being long done speaking her piece.

Melisendre shook Blanchefleur's shoulder hoping to jostle La Bête back in its cage for good.

Ubba was visibly frustrated at Blanchefleur more than anyone which she took as a sign the girls' story had worked in their favor.

But she had to reassert her presence in another way, for now at least.

Blanchefleur tucked her La Bête into its cage with a sharp inhale through her nose.

It growled, baring its endless rows of teeth eager to rip into flesh, refusing to comply.

"I am… sorry. I lost myself… for a moment," she said. As she struggled against the la Bête her eyes bulged so far out of her sockets she felt as if they were on the verge of popping out.

"Did you hear what Mabee asked?" Melisendre asked.

Blanchefleur cocked her head at Melisendre.

"Who?" She asked, confused.

"Mabee here has a question for you," Ubba said, furrowing his brow and motioning to the little girl.

The blonde girl named "Mabee" was fearful of having so much attention on her.

Even the promise that no harm would come to her could not make up for how petrified she was of her true mother.

She probably felt she was promised her demise right here and now more than anything.

"Erm, yes. What is it"? Blanchefleur asked, patting a cough out of her neck.

"What is an election?" Mabee asked, meekly.

Blanchefleur raised her eyebrows.

She possesses an odd name and odd question. What the hell is going on?!

"An election is when a group decides who leads them from a group of select candidates. The people vote, and whoever receives the most is 'elected' or becomes the leader. Which is how I came to power, not because of who my birth parents were," she said hurriedly.

Ubba relaxed his forehead, but he showed no appreciation for her contribution, probably thinking of it as merely adequate.

"That is what Swayne meant before the fight, Mabee. With what he took issue with Ceolbert's coming to be an aethling as opposed to your true mother becoming La Mère des Bâtards" he said.

Despite his speech being far gentler than Blanchefleur's, Mabee still looked nervous as she twiddled a lock of her blonde hair.

Ubba nodded at the girl respectfully and stood up, turning his attention back to Fenora. "Do you trust one of your own to corroborate my truth of what occurred? Ceolbert was cordial, not combative. Swayne was manic and unreasonable. My brother Ivarr had to stop him," Ubba challenged her.

"Ivarr, the scary one," Mabee said, affirming something with herself.

This time her short haired companion did not hesitate to smack the side of her head to silence her.

Blanchefleur found no humor in the childish behavior, shuffling her feet anxiously. Her muscles wrenched closed against La Bête's tantrum.

Fenora acknowledged Ubba by closing her eyes. "Mabee is a good one. One we can trust," she said.

Though this went against Fenora's wishes that Swayne be exonerated, she had at last conceded who was in the wrong.

Who required justice, and that it was rightfully delivered.

"So. Swayne has not been entirely truthful," Fenora said with a tired shrug. "What would you have me do?"

"Clean his wounds," Blanchefleur ordered. "Have someone else to tend to him, Oversee your faction as you should. Show me your efforts as you adhere to this alliance. And perhaps you will be shown the peace promised by King Ceowulf."

That La Bête had wasted enough air. The best thing the dead wretch could serve as was a

Fenora bowed her head in reluctant respect.

"See what your fires can do, Fenora? See why you must be careful when they're unleashed?" Blanchefleur spat at her, struggling to keep her composure.

Fenora rose her head and met Blanchefleur eyes, stoically. "We will show you, La Mère des Bâtards. As you promise to show us."

Think Blanchefleur, think!

A realization swept over her just now, one so powerful it finally shut the la Bête away.

"Sowing seeds," Blanchefleur said.

Fenora blinked. "What?"

"I cannot sow seeds of that promise if you uproot them like this, Fenora. Your anger… destroys them," Blanchefleur said. Her voice nearly tripped over the awkward turn of words.

As if she had to labor each word out of her mouth like the steps needed on a mountain trek.

The clashing energies within her were taking its toll. Unable to compose an eloquent speech before, one of fire and destruction. Now one of peace and construction.

This is becoming too much... merde. MERDE!

"I have had enough of this!" Ubba said, placing his hands on his hips. His knuckled grinded against his leather tunic loudly.

His terseness did not give Blanchefleur any other option.

With a silently agreed goodbye made between everyone Blanchefleur nearly ran out of the house.

Her scarf did little to protect her eyes from the stinging afternoon light,

Melisendre brushed past her and promptly mounted her steed. Huffing and puffing loudly as she too tried to compose herself.

"Where do you suppose you're going?" Ubba asked.

"As you have had enough of this, Ubba Ragnarsson, I have as well," Melisendre said, her voice choking back tears. Gruffly cracking the reigns, she sent her horse into a flurried sprint.

A puff of dirt kicked up from the steeds' hooves blew in Blanchefleur's face, nearly blinding her.

Thankfully Ubba did not insist on pursuing her.

Perhaps he was afraid of lose the privilege of visiting her bed chamber. Or he saw little threat in an upset Madame.

Oh, if you only knew, Ubba.

Before Blanchefleur could steady herself on anything, Ubba grabbed the back of her neck and forced her to face him.

She didn't bother to resist as it was the only support she could hope for at this moment.

His gray eyes had a storm brewing within them.

His God of Thunder lending him his power to assert his dominance.

"What in the name of Loki was that?!" Ubba demanded.

Blanchefleur gulped down a lump in her throat. "Addressing insubordination," she said.

"That was an inconsistent drabbling of a deranged lunatic! You hear me! Deranged!" Ubba retorted. "First you dawn the energy of Fenrir himself. Then you talk of sowing seeds?!"

He threw her to the ground. Landing awkwardly on her hip she let out of a great OOMPH!

"If that was a testimony of your ability to rule, La Mère des Bâtards, then Mercia has much more to fear that I thought," he said.

Blanchefleur sighed, her hip aching from the sudden impact.

"I know… Ubba Ragnarsson… on that… we are agreed…" she said.

She stood up and went to her stead, walking like a soldier that had escaped a great battle.

Exhausted. Parched.

But her distorted senses had her make no effort to address them.

All she could do was move.

Move back to Repton.

Move back to her chambers.

Move… Somewhere. Anywhere but here.