Author's note: Finally! Chapter 9 is here. The first warning is that there will be a lot of angst which might turn just a tad pathological, but nothing damaging so don't worry too much. By the way, the story will turn in that direction (with a few breaks here and there) from now on, just so you know. The second warning is that this chapter will involve some religious implications. These do not necessarily reflect my view. And just to clear up a small confusion, the master of the house is the Baron Leblanc, Dégel's and Unity's father. When I refer to either of the latter, it is usually as 'young master'. As usual, thank you all for reading and reviewing. Star-honey, welcome back. Seafox, you honoured me with your review – know that I am a fan of yours. Kenouki, Ale-chan, Aynslesa, Aletheia and all those who have read and supported me through this time, I am infinitely grateful to you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Chapter 9: Kinds of love

As Dégel rushed along the dark corridor, the candles trembled as the life of his father, one yet faded but merely flickering in the winter gale of age. One foot in front of another, he was unaware for how long he had been running, but still, he ran for the father who had never touched him on the head nor spoke to him in a manner other than formal. It was true, perhaps, that blood ran deeper than the surface, yet now that he was fearing for his father's life, the young man could spare no moment for the thought.

Dégel pushed his way in through the heavy oak door, his eyes momentarily blinded by the several dozens of candles lit. They wavered, then cleared, as the outlines of his brother's lean figure and his lustrous hair appeared from among the light.

'But gently, brother; father is resting. It has been dangerous, but all is well now.'

The dead weight lifted from him was so sudden that Dégel staggered, his back leaning against the closed door. There were a few maids, the trusty butler and the family's physician in the room, the latter tending to his father with a tensed expression. His brother Unity was standing beside the bed, his face haggard yet relief lit his eyes. Upon the bed lay his father, who looked as if he had aged a hundred years in that single day, but who was still breathing; Dégel could see it even from where he stood, and then breathing suddenly became easier. Regaining his breath, the young man approached the bed with silent steps.

'What is his condition?' He turned to address the physician.

'Stable, young master. He needs only to rest now.'

'There is no complication, is there?'

'None has manifested itself yet, but it would be wise to supervise the master for the following week or two. Though, I must warn you in advance that this kind of stroke usually results in paralysis, or partial blindness.'

Dégel's heart squeezed at the indication. It took a moment for him to calm himself, but in the end, as he took a glance at his brother, whose intent eyes were on him and who was shaking his head, the young man knew that though the situation might be dire, not all was lost. Their father survived the stroke, and all that he needed would be provided him. He turned again to the physician:

'And the cause?'

'Old age, the toll of his excessive studies, and the lack of exercise, young master, though I would not tell him in such words. Yet.'

'Much obliged. I thank you for helping my father through this crisis.' Dégel nodded his head in a gesture of gratitude, before motioning for his brother to follow him outside the room, letting their father have his much needed rest.

'Were you with him when he collapsed?' He asked Unity as they walked out the long way he had marched in.

'Thank the Lord that I was, or else his ailment would not have been discovered in time. He became excited during our talk, getting carried away by a new venture of business. Then he suddenly stopped; oh how terrible it was, brother, the way his face ticked, and his eyes widened, staring into nothing as if possessed by the devils, before falling upon the ground. In that moment I had wished you were with me. I was afraid he would not last the night, but the blessed Virgin Mary would see him well yet, which is a relief.'

'Yes, 'tis well. You and I shall take turn watching over him tonight. I apologise for not being home this afternoon.' Guilt started plaguing Dégel's mind, or what remained of it after witnessing his ailing father and hearing of what was to come. He truly was a terrible son, who could not even bring himself to love his own father. Dégel remembered when he was young, how angry he was at his father for introducing another woman into the household, and not before she had born him an illegitimate child, his half-sister Seraphina who was sweet as a rose, and who contained his childish tantrum; how cold he felt when the man visited him during his studies, even the disappointment that welled within him when all he received for earning the doctorate was a formal nod, absent the smile that should have been there. With the years, he grew to understand that in the end, his father did love him, the lofty love that only the nobles were capable of, one that was hard, lacking in warmth and bound in iron constraints. It was the kind of love manifested in high expectations, which was prone to disillusionment, an obsessive determination to arrange his son's life, and ample provision of wealth, which to him held little value. Yet still, it was love, one which despite its simplicity, Dégel himself had never been capable of returning. And still he cared, and worried. It was an odd thing, to feel detached and pressed with concern at the same time. Perhaps it was guilt, though it was equally probable that it was Dégel's own kind of love, reserved only for his father, whom he respected yet never held close.

'…Brother!'

'Yes?' Dégel was almost startled out of his thoughts. As he turned to his brother, he could see the concern in Unity's clear eyes. 'I apologise. You were saying?'

'I was asking where you have been this afternoon. Are you unwell? You have been most… distracted.'

'Indeed. And I apologise for it. I was at a friend's place this afternoon, when the butler's son ran to announce the bad news. And just now I was thinking about what a worthless son I am; truly, I am grateful to have you as my brother; I myself would never have been able to handle all this alone.'

To ease his mind, Dégel directed a small smile towards his brother, who returned in kind, his expression warm and open, before his brows steeled in a deep furrow. Unity laid a hand on his arm, and with a voice more serious than Dégel had ever heard him, told him these words: 'But come to my room, if only for a moment. I have a pressing matter to discuss with you, Dégel.'

'Can it not wait? I planned only to change before returning to father's side.' The abruptness of the request made Dégel uneasy; there was something unreadable in his brother's eyes, which Dégel admittedly had never been able to fully understand. The flash in Unity's icy blue eyes reminded him of wrath, yet the silent concern spoke to his heart. There was something sad and gentle about the gaze his brother was directing at him, yet at the same time, the steel within his stare unnerved him.

'But only for a moment. This discussion is in your best interests, whereas father has good ole' Krest to take care of him.'

Dégel's curiosity was piqued at the latter remark. He nodded his assent, before following his brother towards his study. Into the room, the gloom was palpable on the shadows thrown upon the walls, despite the lit candles. The crackling fire imposed upon his fraying nerves, and the intense heat within threatened to weaken Dégel's controls. It was a secluded space accompanied by volumes upon volumes of leather bound books not so unlike his own study, yet there was something about the place that brought unease to Dégel, as though it was a kind of premonition of something terrible yet to come.

'Come sit by the fire, brother, and we shall talk.'

Dégel did as told, but as he settled into the easy chair, an open volume upon the coffee table caught his eyes.

'The art of dueling, brother? I did not know you have such hobbies.' Dégel raised a brow at Unity, who merely smiled harmlessly as he closed the book and deftly moved it to the side.

'I do, as do we all; the only difference is that mine does not concern association with people below their statures.'

The smile dropped from his countenance, in its place a serious, but gentle expression, yet in that single moment, Dégel could feel his world turning upside down and a sudden cold that had nothing to do with the fire blazing at his side assaulting his senses as a spike to the heart. His heart stopped, and in that split second, he fancied he could see Kardia, his heart, his warmth, his light, his life, broken and bloody on the ground. He knew it was merely his imagination and his fear at the cataclysm caused by his brother's words, but it was all it took for Dégel to lose his calm, dread invading his senses, possessing his mind as despair clutched his consciousness. His eyes unfocused, Dégel looked to his brother, to see a hand extending to hold his own, though he could not even feel the touch, suddenly numb all over.

'Come, pray do not look at me with such eyes, brother, for you frighten me. I did not mean to startle you, of that you should be certain. No, brother, I only mean to have a serious discussion, to speak frankly and without intrigues. Stay, do not speak yet, but let me finish what I have to say,' A hand was held up as Dégel opened and closed his mouth mechanically, 'and we shall see your reasons for this folly that we both know is real. It is difficult for you to follow the heart, oh I know, dear Dégel, how painful it was for you to have loved and lost our sister Seraphina, a pain shared by all in the Leblanc family; yet for this one time I must entreat you, to immediately stop this unspeakable state of things, to severe any and all connections with that commoner. Have you no regard for your family, Dégel? Can you not think how devastated father will be if he finds out? And if the society does? Oh, there will be gossips, which pierce through walls and barriers as no great cannon had ever been capable of. Can you imagine the women laughing as they turn their unreturned affections for you into hatred, and their jealousy into venom? "But I have never imagined the young Baron Leblanc to be capable of such monstrous acts," they would say. Stay, brother, stay, and let me finish. They shall speak not of you, Dégel, but of the Baron Leblanc, of our family. I may be a disgrace, for I have no talents and am still more the burden, but I shall not bring shame to the family. You, Dégel, are our pride, the favoured son of the family, and I shall not let you commit such acts. I know, brother, that you think little of yourself; you cater to my whims, you obey father's demands, you tend to the family's investments though you yourself hold no interest anywhere out of the academia; and that's why I speak not of the consequences of this relationship to you yourself, for surely you have thought of more than I can ever suppose. And yet you discarded them, to throw yourself into this sin as a moth to flame despite your rationality. I have no word to reproach you with, for it is your life, but pray only think a little of the family's good name, of father, and of your brother who cannot bear to see you drawn into the swamp and unable to rescue his own brother. As you felt for me when I was ill, what shall become of me when you have ruined yourself with this foolishness of youth? I cannot lose my only brother; it pains me to have to imagine what might happen to you, should you persist on this course. Only imagine, brother, should I be "put to the question"(2) for the same crime against God you are now committing, what shall you feel? Add to that a hundred, a thousand times, and it shall be what I feel should you ruin yourself in the same way.'

A white hand found its way to Dégel's face, which must have felt as ice upon flesh, if the frost deep within his soul was a good indicator. Warm fingers passed across his cheeks and into his hair in a repeated gesture of gentle comfort, even as Unity's concerned gaze never left his face. Dégel knew that because he was still staring at his brother, his eyes wide yet unseeing, and all that he knew was that there was something very wrong, from the absence of intense heat of the hand, to its smooth, unblemished skin, to the icy blue that was too light to burn the deep sapphire in which he had become accustomed to drowning. Nonetheless, deeper than that, there was an icy spear impaling itself upon Dégel's heart. Ah, so Unity did despise him, after all, for who would not – he who had committed such carnality by his own will. His suppressed fear seized him, striking as a serpent lurking under the surface, for even though Dégel kept telling himself no one would know of his sin, because he would not let them, in the end, there was someone who knew after all; there was always someone who knew. Dégel was not ashamed of his love, for he was not ashamed of the only ray of light in his life, but only of his covetousness, and the candid words of his brother did but draw painful re-awareness to his mind, previously deliberately blinded with hope of anything but a dark future. How base it was of him, how despicable, to be so very selfish, to the point of disregarding his own family's good name for his own lust for that which he knew he could never have. He had failed to honour his father, and he had coveted. But oh, how it hurt to merely think of not being to see that one man once again, even on pain of bringing shame to his family. Dégel envied the ephemera, which lived for but a day, but how happy they were, buzzing about, singing, dancing, doing that which they loved during the sweet day of summer, upon the old oak, letting their life erupt into the magical pollen that added that genteel veil to the honeyed light. Were he an ephemeron and Kardia his sunlight! It would have been better for him to die than to let anyone know of his sin, and it would have been better still, to die while burning with everything he had, than to live deprived of sight, senses, and the world. When Samson had to choose, was it easy for him to turn away from the teachings of the Lord – and his Covenant – as Dégel had chosen to turn away from all that was good, and embrace that vice that was Delilah, as Dégel Kardia?(1) Yet if anything, it should have been the other way round, for he despised the society and the fetters in which he lived, while Kardia, for him, was all that he had ever wanted, really – warmth, candour, passion, life, freedom. Still, still, in the end, it hurt to be torn in two entirely opposite directions. Would it have been better, indeed, to have his eyes put out and die imprisoned, knowing that he had betrayed neither his beloved nor his family?

'… Know that I broach this subject not to hurt you, nor to reproach your choice, for I bear towards you neither spite nor malice. I love you, brother, as you have loved me. He who is your enemy, is my enemy, and he who tempts you into falling, shall be my greatest enemy. What I would not do to pull you out of this bottomless pit of quicksand!'

The words struck something within Dégel, and he leapt, startling his brother, whose hand was still hovering in the air. His lips trembled as blood fled his face, Dégel stood stunned before a terrified Unity. He stood as a mad man, his eyes wild, his whole body quaking even as the roaring fire threw dancing shadows upon his countenance, which had frozen into a terrible rigid mask of shock and fury. His brother stared at him as he would a predator, his hand retreating in slow motion, as though he was afraid to provoke Dégel, which probably he should not. Slowly, with great difficulty, he opened his mouth to utter words no louder than a whisper, yet those which rang in his ears as thunder: 'Then… The night of the banquet… The burglar… Did you…?'

Coherent thoughts refused to form in his suddenly fevered mind, and the cold sting of terror was dislodged by a wave of terrible anger sweeping through the frozen plain of his mind, leaving him short of breath and overwhelmed with passion. On the other hand, his brother, too, had in that split second calmed himself with a cold wrath not unlike that possessing Dégel himself. From where he sat, Unity looked up at him with eyes now as cold as the icy colour of his irises, his shoulders squared, his knuckles white.

'It must be done. As I have said, and shall not hesitate to remind you again, brother, he who tempts you into falling shall be my greatest enemy, whom I shall seek to destroy.'

'And if I am the one at fault?'

'Then a sacrifice must be made so you can return to your right mind. The longer I wait, the deeper you sink. It must be now. Deny society if you must, deny your family, as you have done, and that is your love. This, brother, is my love for you.'

The table almost cracked under his hands as he slammed upon them with a strength he never knew he possessed, but cared not in that moment. Dégel could sense the rage rapidly taking over his mind, and in his peripheral vision he could already see the invasion of red. His brother was startled by his sudden outbreak, yet the steel remained in his eyes. They glared at each other, cold on cold, for perhaps after all it did run in the blood. There was suddenly something so very malignant, so very spiteful about the defiant way Unity lifted his chin, the way colour drained from his countenance, the way his thin lips flattened into a hard line even as Dégel did the same, that he found the last of his controls slipping. Abruptly turning on his heels, Dégel moved in long, purposeful strides that resembled a hasty escape, aiming solely for the door in order to think, just think about anything other than blood and violence.

'Wait, we are yet to…' The hand that reached out to him was swatted away with a slap that resounded in the sweltering quiet of the room, the sound ringing as music in his ears even as his brother's eyes flashed as those of an animal's.

'Do not touch me, brother. Know that I am aware of your affections for me, and that I appreciate it, or you would not have been my brother anymore.' Drawing in a breath, he turned to look at Unity with blazing eyes and all the restraints he could hold onto, lest he strike his own brother then and there. 'You overstepped your boundaries. If I am impure, they may excommunicate me; mon dieu! they may send me to the pyre if they so wish! I shall remove myself from the household, leave the country and live in exile for the rest of my life if that's what it takes to preserve the good name of the Leblanc family! Yet only remember this, brother, that should you attempt to harm that man again, for indeed it is my fault in seducing him, I who brings about his great fall, he who is more righteous than both you and I, and the entire nobility together, severing any bond you have with me shall be the least you have to worry about. Pray, do not make your own brother order house arrest on you!'

With that, he departed after throwing a silent 'I shall watch over father tonight. Alone.'

For a long time after that, Dégel did not know what he was doing. He was in a waking dream, where everything moved strangely in front of his eyes in distorted blurs, as floating blobs of colours disembodied from matter. Thoughts raced by his mind in whirlwinds, pulling him into indescribable excitement at one time, and pitch black depression another. He remained confused for however long that it lasted, and could not remember anything that happened to him during that period of blackout; only fleeting ideas of bright summer days, a child with brilliant blue eyes, an even smaller child who clung to his legs, the mother he had never met, the vague sight of white beard during a fever induced sleep, a scarlet scarf around a smile that lit a grey day golden, remained. With feeble consciousness at long last, Dégel found himself pacing the length of a room he did not remember entering, the terrified eyes of a lone maid upon him as though she was imprisoned with a caged beast, which, the young man absently mused, was perhaps not that far from the truth after all. Upon the bed in the middle of the room lay the outlines of a withered old man, his brows white and his eyes sunken. Dégel remembered this man was one of those few he had loved from a distance, obeying and fulfilling his duties, but which love suddenly brought weighing weariness upon his being. Dégel wondered what it would be like to be his father but for a day, to know what the old man was thinking when he looked at his sons with that distanced grey gaze of his, to feel what he was feeling when neither of his sons loved him the way normal sons loved their fathers, and now to see how he would react to his son's betrayal. Or, perhaps, he did not know what a 'normal' love was from the beginning; ice had run in Dégel's blood, and then Unity's; how could it not have been in his father's in the first place? His thoughts drifted away from the cold of his father to the warmth of his sister Seraphina, whose smile was a spring breeze and whose eyes shamed even the brightest of stars. Ah, what would she have thought of her brother's choice, he wondered. Slowly, as with a mad man, a wry smile bloomed upon his dry lips. Maybe the maid had seen the glint of insanity in his eyes, for she abruptly scampered out of the room without being ordered to. All very well, for he would have the space for himself to think. He was thinking… What was he thinking? Dégel scolded himself for his absent-mindedness. Suddenly he stopped in the middle of his pacing, his eyes intently on the smouldering embers in the now dark fireplace. Was Unity's hatred for his lover like those embers? Dégel remembered he was a sweet child, and even now still that child to Dégel himself. How the little puppy he had come to adore became the man he was, Dégel could never comprehend; yet he knew that his brother was dangerous, for his cunning seemed to have been inherited from their father. Would he attempt on Kardia's life again? Dégel scowled darkly at the prospect of what he might do should that happen and harshly pushed the possibilities out of his head, for in that single moment, he had abruptly felt weariness overcoming him in the form of unstoppable shivering. Hence, it was, though for but a while more, comforting to know his words had served their purpose. Regardless, in the end, Unity loved him, that much he knew, a thousand, a million times more than Dégel could understand. Dégel loved his family, his brother in particular, and he loved that one man whose flame had burnt a trail into his frozen heart still more. What was he to do, then, as his brother so hated the man he loved? Was his love all a crafty lie Dégel had built to fool himself, that he must betray his family for a single man, or betray that man whose heart he could never fathom for his family? Dégel became confused and angry at the mere thought. A wretched thing, it all was! He was angry at the world, at his family, at himself, and even at that one man whom he could not bring himself to hate. What was the matter with him and Kardia? Or was it a matter with mankind in general? Wretches, that they were. Were he Ganymede and Kardia the great eagle! But what would they have done had they had an eternity to themselves. Nay, Kardia was still suffering; he hurt with each draw of his breath. Could Dégel not take that, too, upon himself? To plant a demon rose within his own lungs and in exchange have that man healthy but for another day? Or if not, then perhaps in pain Kardia would not have to be alone. The morbid thought pleased Dégel, for what better way to resolve this conflict than to not choose at all. Ah, but that would be bad, for Kardia was life itself, that which Dégel had forever been admiring. Better not to taint such brilliance with his own morbid thoughts; Kardia would never have approved anyway. Dégel fancied he saw his own reflection in the glass window, against the velvety drop of the night sky, his eyes bloodshot and his cheeks flushing high with a fever matching that of his lover. He touched a hand to his forehead, and his hand felt as ice, while his forehead as fire. Releasing a chuckle that sounded almost like a gasp for air, he looked out of the window, where pristine flakes of snow were lazily circling each other in their merry waltz accompanied by the night gale, where the stars were bright upon the night sky and things were quiet within the dead of the night.

'So tell me, dear sister, what is to be done?'

And then he had to stifle a laugh with mirth he knew not form whence, for perhaps from the beginning, he had already known the answer. Foolish, ungrateful, immoral, diabolical; that was what his love was, the love that cut better than a knife, bound tighter than a chain, and consumed more than hellfire. It was the love that pushed him further each moment into depravity, until all that he could think of was mid-night coloured hair and lop-sided grins, himself, his family, and everything else literally damned. Or perhaps it was Dégel himself who had elected to forfeit his own reason when he had first laid eyes upon that little flower stand, where Kardia had stood surrounded by all that was beautiful, a crown of gold upon his head and the rainbows his carriage. Dégel wondered why the Lord created such a creature as he was, one which hesitated not in turning away from his own family and one which violated the laws laid by He Himself with delight. It was a paradox that amused one, for it was not within the light of the Lord that he had found peace, but in the darkness of the Devil that his sun had found him. Dégel wanted to laugh at the thought. His cheek was suddenly hot, before freezing cold, and Dégel extended a hand he could not even feel to wipe at the wetness.

'Ah, I laughed so hard I cried. So tell me, why is it red?'(3)

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Note: these explanations may kill some of your better emotions as you read the story, as they did with me when I put them down. Nonetheless, I feel that some explanations are wanting for the more obscure citations I made. Hence, please read at your own discretion.

(1) There are various interpretations of the story of Samson and Delilah, but according to what I learnt, he too is to be reproached for turning against God and marrying a vicious woman, i.e. Delilah. It was because he chose to do that that he was in the wrong.

(2) i.e. subjected to the Inquisition (Spanish, Portuguese, German, etc.)

(3) Haemolacria, in case you were wondering.