Hello again! I hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween and Thanksgiving! My costume was Kagome Higuarashi's school uniform from Inuyasha for Halloween, by the way. I love cos-play! Anyway…I wanted to wait till after the holidays to start to write and post this chapter. Much less chaotic that way! Sorry to those loyal few who follow this fic! ;)
Left off last time with Marie-Louise finding her father's file on Mireabeu…that George was supposed to know nothing about…What will happen? It's anyone's guess…
Disclaimer: See chapters one and two
Chapter 6: Verite Revelee
Marie-Louise ran in desperation, her heart pounding in her ears, cheeks terribly flushed red, and every exhausted muscle screaming at her to stop her pursuit.
But she had to find him---she had to find George---if Mireabeu was…
She swallowed---trying to wet her dry throat---and stopped her dark thoughts.
She had looked all over the North Wing of the Royal French Château---her fast pace undeterred---and saw no signs of him.
When she politely--- well more abruptly than polite---but she was filled with a dooming sense of urgency and had no time for chivalry---asked a palace vassal in passing where he made his last address, she had been told he was headed to the South Wing.
Without a second thought---or remark of gratitude towards the vassal---she made haste to the South Wing. Forgetting that the place she grew up in could be rather large and unforgiving to those in a hurry.
Trying not to think about how tired she was, she kept pace and only felt the sore souls of her feet pounding against the marble floor---each step taking her towards her Rose Knight.
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George had finally finished his round in the South Wing---it only felt like it took him forever. He sighed and slowly made his way over to the border between the North and South Wings.
He usually didn't mind the long stretches of the Château halls, the familiar monotony making him comfortable even as a child when others his age were afraid to get lost in such a place---he welcomed it. Today, however, it seemed to lull him into a day-dreamlike state.
He found himself thinking of her---again. Of her beauty, yes, but of late her unmistakable, continuous, and hidden fatigue that seemed to overtake her stress-ridden form.
He had often heard from other Knights in service to Neo-France that their charges had been reduced from a once prominent and life-full figure to a stress-worn and nearly unrecognizable persona afterward.
He prayed that their Princess kept smiling---her knee-weakening smile that could make a clouded gray day seem bright with her sunshine.
And if any of those thick nosed bureaucrats dared insult her…
George's gloved hand clenched despite himself.
They would receive a most unpleasant visit from George De'Sand.
Knowing he could do nothing till her return George sighed, letting out his some of his burning thoughts, and lifted his head---noticing he had reached the Border Garden. George took in the marvel before him….
Four, tall, Romanesque columns stood at the corners---making a slightly foreboding greeting to those who did not know their gentle bite. He stepped into the blue opaque stone depression with a slight step---echoes rolling across the surface in waves. At the Border Garden's center were three magnificent trees each with beautiful blooming flowers for the spring season. At their border, three benches of red wood carved with flowers resting on their shoulders stood meekly encircling their magnificence.
George bowed low in deep respect at the bow of each---remembering as he reached the one in the center what each stood for. On the left----that one was the tallest…and oldest. It's fire red petals fluttered proudly in the warm breeze---seemingly not afraid to hit the ground. This old tree had seen a lot---just as the living embodiment of it did---The King of Neo-France.
The last one on the right, George looked fondly upon. Marie-Louise was its heiress. Planted when she was born, the tree produced soft baby pink flowers. Though the smallest, when one would stand near it a sense of calm over took them and the fragrance would take homage in the weave of the visitors fabric for as long as they were within range of the Chateau. It was said that part the young Princess' warm heart and charm protected the heavy-hearted and the worn. George believed to be true the many nights he had spent under it's gentle embracing boughs.
The one that stopped many a visitor in their tracks including the Princess herself, was the center tree, the tree of the late Queen of Neo-France. When her grace had been alive, it bloomed pure and intoxicating white blossoms. The mere sight had been enough to take one's breath away. It enveloped all of the Queen's kindness, patience, and inner strength, but most of all her strong presence that was enough to make even the most hardened solider smile in deep respect.
He bowed once more to the center tree---in reverence to her departed spirit. The warm wind blew once more, but this time they sent chills crawling up George's spine.
It was an odd thing---perhaps some believed a bad presage of things to come that when the Queen had died the tree would no longer produce blossoms. It stayed barren, looking a picture of the dark that surrounded it from the winter of long ago that the Queen had passed on.
George gathered himself as best he could---and drew himself from the ominous figure and sat on the curved bench beneath the peaceful aura contradiction on the right. He looked up and his violet eyes were swimming in the falling pink petals and he was made sleepy from fragrance that filled him. He did a rare thing for a Rose Knight---he relaxed.
So rare was it that only seconds later he heard a sound that made him tense and stand with speed to wildly look around for the owner of the voice.
"Geoooo-r-gg-eee!!!!!!!!"
He saw her running towards him from the South Wing. Her face was pale, the rose of her cheeks missing from the run she must have taken with slight moisture running along her forehead.
He read fatigue in her sluggish movements, along with a thick wind of desperation that followed in her wake made his blood run cold. George swallowed as felt he stomach churn and gnaw at him from the inside carrying a premonition for the worst.
He hadn't remembered moving but he suddenly stood a good few feet in front of her---his violet eyes marked her with immense worry.
Marie-Louise had finally found George. She stumbled the last few feet to him---suddenly feeling all her weight married to gravity and have nerve enough to pull her to the ground. She felt his steady hands hold her gasping form.
She looked up at him---her muscles protesting even the smallest movement. A shaky breath filled her lungs, and before he could utter a word of concern for her well being she breathily uttered one word.
"Mireabeu...he's…." She gripped George's uniform tight in exhaustion and pain from the memories of the man that had plagued the people of Neo-France---and had nearly killed the one most precious to her.
Her head hung despite her efforts to keep exhaustion from taking over her, "…he's in Neo-France."
George wasn't quite sure he had heard her right---he couldn't have heard her right. The feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened and he had broken into a deep sweat…
He looked past Marie Louise, into the long stretching halls of nothingness---he could nearly make out an image he had been trying to erase but would never really fade.
Mireabeu…he was dead…
"Marie-Louise…" George was broken out of his own state of immense shock as he fought to keep her upright as she leaned further on him for support.
"I'm sorry George…" She speech was a heavy with fatigue. She berated herself that getting less than recommended hours of sleep combined with stress and physical activity in her state---was not the best idea she had had lately.
George's mind was whirling but he still managed to keep in mind that one of his duties to his country and himself---was to take care of the exhausted Princess in his arms. Focusing on her, he careful put an arm behind her and the dust full layers of her skirt and lifted her up bridal-style.
"W-wait George…what…" Marie-Louise put her arms around his neck to steady herself.
He didn't reply to her query and silently carried her over to the center bench that sat below her late mother's tree.
He placed her down, having her sit on the worn wood laden bench with care, and then kneeled before her to inspect her for anymore injuries she might have acquired.
Marie-Louise grabbed his hand as it brushed past her tousled curls. "George…" She began, and then swallowed---her throat was still dry. "Don't worry about me George…I'll be alright. A little fatigue never hurt anyone." She smiled against her own irony. She took hold of his already captured hand with her own and placed the crumbled document in his possession.
George looked at her with questions, but then resolve filled him. "Miss Marie Louise, I have to…"
"Take care of me?" She finished for him and looked down. "Monsieur De'Sand," She looked at him again, concentrating on his violet eyes. "As the Princess of Neo-France, I order you to go speak to my father. I've been a weight pulling you down before George; I won't do it again. Don't go against yourself just because of me."
Marie-Louise stood up fluidly showing strength---while still keeping a tight hold on his gloved hands. "And don't try to argue with me, I can see the turmoil written in your eyes, George. Go talk to my father."
George had done it again. He'd underestimated her. It still baffled him how she knew his feeling so well when he'd been trying his best to hide them. He knew what she had referred to when she had said she'd been a weight holding pulling him down.
She was referring to his fight with Monsieur Domon in the 13th tournament. To ensure France's victory, The King of Neo-France had disqualified him from the match. He remembered his fury at what his charge had done. In the end and for the better ironically, fury had consumed him, and he for a brief moment was no longer Neo-France's champion.
Marie-Louise had tried to stop him, reminding him of his honor for his country that he'd fought for so many times before, of the Princess he had defended in the past. He had struck out at her and his shouted words cut her---he fought for himself, and himself alone.
He wasn't so sure that fact held the truth it had before, as now he looked into her magnificent green orbs and found himself drawn in once more.
Tentatively, he gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek. His heart felt ready to explode when he felt his lips brush her velvet soft cheek. Though the kiss had lasted a mere second, he could still feel her warmth tingling on his lips as he pulled away.
Marie-Louise stood frozen, wrapped in warmth, and felt like she could fly from feeling so light headed. Her cheek felt cold from the absence of the warmth that once flooded it. She thought that oddly strange when she could feel the rest of her emit heat as a furnace would.
Her eyes sparkled slightly as she lightly hugged George around the waist. She pulled back just as quickly before he could respond to her embrace---the memory of keeping him tied down prevalent in flashing images across her mind.
She was keeping him here when he should be….
"No…I…George…" She tried to smile once more, but George could tell it was strained. "Please go…see my father."
George nodded his head slowly; knowing both that it was he had to do to ease his violent mixing emotions of dread and faint anger at her father as a man, and preserve Neo-France as a Knight.
He let go of her hands with slight regret and bowed low. His long waves of orange hair spun around him as he stood, turned, and ran off and out of her sight.
Marie-Louise felt herself shake violently---and the hard stone depression of the Border Garden hit her knees as she fell from exhaustion. Perhaps, she thought, she was just as bad as he was for hiding her true emotion from the person she least wanted to lie to.
She felt bitter tears fill her eyes and she lifted her head up to the sky to keep them from tainting the earth. The looming dark and bare branches of her mother's once bountiful tree felt as thought they were constricting her, making it hard to breath.
As the world began to blur from her pooled eyes, she spoke to these words to the ghostly crisp wind that wipped her hair around her.
"Pourquoi faises-le douleur meme….mere?"
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Wow…I didn't expect that chapter to be so heartfelt. Hope you guys liked it that way though! ;)
French Translation:
Verite Revelee: Truth Revealed
The last phrase in French that Marie-Louise utters means, "Why does it hurt so much, mother?" She's referring to the things that people do for eachother when they're in love. Hint: That will be one of the messages that's prevalent thoughout the story! ;)
Honestly, I'm not so sure that I said that right in French, but I captured the overall effect and I hope everyone likes it.
Till next time!
Emerald-Velvet-Touch