Come to me now again, release me from
this pain, everything my spirit longs
to have fulfilled, fulfill, and you
be my ally - Sappho

Clarke was alive and burning with purpose, and definitely in no mood to slow down or stop all together. However, her horse could only maintain the somewhat vicious pace she had set for her for so long, and descending from her saddle and seeing how exhausted Violet was, Clarke managed to feel remorseful. She felt especially badly knowing she would have pushed Violet still further if the terrain had been more agreeable or if they had been close to the estate. As it was, there was still half a days journey before her, and she was very fortuitous to not have been thrown a number of times during her mad dash to Alexandria.

She fed Violet an apple to atone for such negligence, hoping for forgiveness. Violet was a loyal creature when treated well but rather prickly when not; not unlike many humans.

"I'm sorry, Violet, truly," she said, hand to her snout. Violet huffed, then nudged her hands, as if simultaneously forgiving her and demanding more food. Clarke smiled and patted the side of her neck while she fed her her own apple. It seemed like an easy sacrifice to make as she was far too anxious to even consider eating herself, besides which, she would not be getting much farther without Violet's assistance.

After an hour or so of rest - in which Clarke was very thankful it was not particularly freezing today - they continued onwards. While moving much slower was not her ideal, it was in some respects better, as it afforded her the use of her hood, something that continuously blew from her head as she earlier galloped along. Still, by the time she reached the town a handful of miles away from Alexandria's estate, the sun had set and she was nearly frozen solid. She was also fairly well starving, so she brought Violet into the stables to be looked after while she went into the nearest pub to warm herself and gain nourishment for the possible trials ahead.

People turned to look at her as she pulled back her hood and made her way to the barkeep. The reason for their interest was threefold. In her haste to leave that morning, her hair had not been done up one iota and as such, it was wild and untamed. She was attired in men's clothing, so as to sit atop the saddle like a man and ride as fast as she dared. It was also a small village, so any strangers stuck out like a sore thumb, which coincidentally she literally had from rubbing against the reins for so long. She flexed her cold and cramped hands as she waited for the man to acknowledge her existence.

When he finally did, he gave her a funny look, as if wearing trousers was unspeakably distasteful. She half thought he would refuse her service but then she placed money on the counter and ordered herself some tea and soup, anything to help her warm up a little faster. As expected, he decided not to turn down the money and went to prepare her order. As it was being readied, she went to stand by the roaring fire. Apparently her appearance was sufficiently strange that no one dared bother her while she stood there, nor later while she scarfed down her bread and soup.

Reinvigorated, she reclaimed her horse (to the surprise of the stableboy) and headed back onto the main road. She glanced at the houses as she passed by, wondering which one was Costia's former home, wondering if Alexandria had ever visited her publicly, or how that relationship even came to pass. Then again, their own story was far more bizarre, so really it wasn't that hard to fathom.

She did not like travelling at nighttime, especially alone, but there was nothing for it. There was no way on God's (not so) green Earth that she would wait to see Alexandria in the morning. Besides, it was only just after dinner time. She would arrive at the estate in a couple of hours, so Clarke doubted very much that she would be disturbing her. At least in that regard.

The closer she became to the estate grounds, the more she began to doubt herself, and whether she really had the right to come here like this after being unceremoniously kicked out. Only the selfish urge to try one more time to persuade Alexandria away from a loveless marriage kept her going.

As she ascended the many stairs, she attempted to flatten her hair down a bit and give herself a slightly more civil look. When she was as ready as she was ever going to be, she knocked on the front door. A severe looking servant she vaguely recognized opened it shortly thereafter.

"Miss Griffin?" he said, completely unperturbed by her physical appearance and her manifestation at the estate. Clarke supposed such unruffling was a requirement of being the doorman.

"Good evening, sir. I would like to see the countess."

He said nothing for a few seconds and Clarke felt her stomach plummet as she contemplated the prospect that Alexandria wasn't even home. It had never occurred to her before that this might be the case, but with the wedding imminently looming, it was entirely possible that she had gone to stay somewhere closer to the venue in the city. But if that were the case, surely Roan would have informed her of this? Unless it happened after he left and she and Alexandria had passed like ships in the night. If that were so, this entire 'quest' had been for naught.

"I realize my being here at such a time unannounced is somewhat unorthodox, but I was hoping I might procure an audience all the same. If you would just let the countess know of my presence, I am sure she will agree to such a scheme."

She was of course not sure at all about this, and clearly the servant agreed, if his skeptical expression was any indication. The man continued to stare at her and then stepped aside, letting her into the foyer and blessedly out of the cold. Without the sunshine, those last miles nearly chilled her as much as she previously was before the village.

"Please wait here, miss," he said, giving her a look that indicated she would be in for a scolding, or worse, if she disobeyed.

Using the mirror near at hand, she went to fix her appearance still further. Somehow she got dirt on her nose even though there was no dirt to be had outside. She peeled off a glove, licked her fingers and rubbed the unseemliness away. There was no need to pinch her cheeks for some colour, they already had quite enough as it was. Considering how pale her usual complexion was, it was entirely too much rouge and made her look like a clown. Clarke frowned into the mirror, disliking the crease that was produced down her forehead, and then decided to stop being so vain and focus on what was actually important.

However, she didn't have long to contemplate this before she heard multiple pairs of footsteps echoing along the corridor. Heart in her throat, she turned to greet her, but the words died in her throat when she saw that it was not Alexandria who had come. The bald man, Titus - looking even more severe than the doorman and his companion - came a little too close for comfort.

"She does not wish to see you," he said, a rather large amount of anger already brimming just beneath the surface.

He was intimidating, but Clarke's reaction was only to intimate back. She stood as tall as possible and said, "I would like to hear that from her."

Titus bristled at the obstinacy. "You will not be communicating with her in any fashion. You had best just leave."

"Does she even know that I'm here?" she fired back.

"No, and she won't know it," he said, voice beginning to shake with anger. "You will not have another opportunity to corrupt her mind."

Clarke was nearly as angry as he. She clenched her fists and seriously contemplated laying violent hands on him. "The only one corrupting her mind here is you!" she roared. "You twist every terrible thing that has ever happened to her for your own agenda! You made her hate herself! You made me hate myself! But you won't stand in our way again! I won't let you!"

"Keep your voice down," he warned waspishly.

"No! I will do no such th-"

Faster than she would have supposed possible, he shoved a handkerchief – one could only hope a clean one - into her mouth, spun her around and grabbed her roughly by both wrists. She mumbled indignantly as he marched her towards the front door, his thugs following just behind.

Once outside, he said in her ear, "There are two ways in which this can play out, Miss Griffin. You can either leave right now and never return, or you can suffer the wrath of God." He leaned her somewhat precariously over the top of the many icy stairs, his intent plain. "Choose wisely."

He fancied himself a vessel of God, yet he was clearly doing the work of the devil. Clarke squirmed against his iron grip. For an old man he was rather strong, and even the level of fury raging within her wasn't enough to break free. She was beyond angry, and yet, a small sliver of her mind was still functioning logically, and knew that he would push her down the stairs if she kept misbehaving, so she stopped attempting to extract herself from his grasp and mumbled incoherently.

"Will you leave and never return?" he queried.

She nodded once.

He righted her fully and turned her head to look at his thugs. "Know that if you are lying, Miss Griffin, this night will not end well for you." He handed her over to the other men, specifically the larger of the pair, the recent arrival. His eyes were cold and unfeeling and elicited a shiver down her spine. "See that she keeps to her word. And if she doesn't...you know what to do."

He nodded and took her firmly by the arm as they descended the stairs. She looked behind her to see Titus and the doorman watching her still. No doubt their eyes would stay on them until she was out of sight, carriage bound homeward. There was no conversation as her 'gentleman' escort was not inclined to talk and she was still gagged, uncomfortably so. They reached the stables before long. Alexandria did not make her stablehands stay outdoors in the winter time, so there was no one here presently to possibly bat an eye at a past visitor being so grossly mistreated.

Her captor grabbed a length of rope with his free hand and secured her wrists behind her person so she would not even be able to pull out the gag if she had the impulse. Then he led her to one of the smallest carriages and placed her inside. He moved his coat aside, revealing a sheathed knife. The threat was clear. Attempt anything foolhardy and your throat will be slit. Clarke would admit that she was feeling rather out of her element and scared, though not witless. He closed the door and proceeded to harness one horse and another to share the burden. Anyone with half a wit could see Violet was too exhausted for a return trip. Someone else would have to bring her back to London in the morning. With the horses secured, her captor took the drivers seat outside and slowly led them along the narrow lane until they gained access to the main entrance road towards the mansion, at which point, he took off with all haste.

As soon as they started to move, Clarke began to work on loosening her restraints. They were very tight and there was no way to slip her hands out, so she looked around her enclosure for something to cut through the rope. Eventually she made due with the edge of the windowsill. It was very awkward to reach in her cramped position, and was difficult to maintain her balance. It took ages to wear the rope down to such an extent so as to weaken and break the bond. When it finally snapped, she was glad for the gag in her mouth as her cry of success would have been loud enough to give herself away.

Now came the tricky part.

She would have to jump off of the carriage while it was moving at a good clip, and avoid being seen by her escort as she did so. The instant relief that was supplied from the gag removal helped her confidence immeasurably and she prepared herself for what she had to do. Clarke waited until they were on a decent sized bend, that way she would disappear from sight much faster than if it were a straight run. As well, this tactic would hopefully ensure her driver would be much more preoccupied with navigation than he would be with glancing behind.

She took a deep breath and opened the carriage door. As hoped for, her captors eyes were on the barely illuminated road ahead. Very carefully she shimmied onto the side of the vehicle so that she could close the door quietly behind her. If she left it swinging wide open, she might as well have screamed while she was at it. Finally, she just let go, landed on the compact and hard snow and barely managing to stifle a groan as she rolled away some distance. She picked herself up as soon as she could, pleased to note that the carriage had continued on around the bend, her driver none the wiser. Of course, he would eventually have to stop, at which point he would notice her disappearance. In the meantime, she took a moment to try and collect her bearings and figure out where exactly she was in proximity to the mansion. She thought perhaps they were only about an hour away at this point, but it was fairly hard to tell at night time with no light source besides the partially obscured moon. It would take her at least twice as long to reclaim that distance on foot, but Clarke was very determined and headed back, quite glad she could run freely in her trousers.

After about a half an hour of jogging, she considered attempting to cut through the forest instead of staying to the main road. A short deliberation told her that was a foolhardy action. The snow would most assuredly be too deep and impede her movements too much, besides which, she would probably trip on something and sprain the same ankle again. And there was no one here to pick her up this time. How bizarre that she could jump off of a moving carriage and remain unharmed, yet injure herself while falling down a slight hill.

At any rate, Clarke was thankful for her relatively good fitness acquired from near daily walks of some miles. Otherwise, she would have needed to come to a complete halt a number of times on her way back to the mansion. Still, she was quite out of breath and frozen again upon her arrival some distance outside of the enormous building. As she reclaimed her breath, she scouted out the vicinity. There did not appear to be anyone watching, which was all she could have hoped for.

Clarke's main mission was to locate Alexandria, but she also needed to be cautious and remain out of sight. The level of Titus' influence was uncertain. The only person she trusted was Alexandria. Which was perhaps unwise in and of itself considering her treatment when she was last here. She cursed herself for not bringing any kind of defensive weapon with her. Had she known just how dangerous this whole affair would become, she surely would have borrowed her grandfathers revolver from the war.

Trying to secure access through the front entrance again would be the epitome of idiocy. Probably any ground level entrances would be being watched just in case. There was a balcony Clarke remembered seeing Alexandria stand in once. She decided that was her best bet for getting in, and with any luck, her target would also be present, though she was certainly not counting on such a stroke of luck.

Creeping low, she kept out of sight of the darkened windows until she was underneath the balcony in question. There was no tree she could use. Being winter, there were no vines to climb. There was no ladder to be had and she couldn't recall seeing one in the stables either. The only thing available to her was slight indentations in the wall. It was incredibly stupid to attempt to climb it this way, at night, when it was icy, when she had little skill in such an arena, but she was going to attempt it anyway. The carriage escape had gone well. Perhaps she would not break her neck here either? It wasn't that high. Only about twenty feet up. Simple.

A harrowing climb later, in which she nearly lost her grip five times, she hoisted herself over the ledge and onto the balcony. There were glass doors directly in front of her, and if anyone had been standing right there, she would have been immediately found out. There wasn't anyone that she could see, but the room was pitch dark except for the moonbeam provided by the doors. The doors weren't locked so she was able to get inside without smashing one and possibly alerting violent people to her presence. There was a large bed here, of an incredibly elaborate design. Something befitting a countess. Clarke had never been in Alexandria's room and the urge to explore was strong, but it wasn't where her focus needed to lie.

She knew Alexandria rarely slept, so the obvious place to look was her study on the floor beneath this room. Before she left the finely furnished bedroom, she had the presence of mind to grab a suitable weapon. It was the same cane she had used while indisposed during her stay here. The dragon-headed aid had belonged to Alexandria's father. It had served her well once before, so perhaps it would again. Mind you, she was quite desirous to avoid an altercation all together. Clarke didn't wish to hurt anyone, but if they attempted to stop her again from seeing Alexandria, she would.

Most of the servants were already in their basement quarters, and therefore the hallways were mostly clear. So it was that she had a rather easy go of reaching the study. Even before she opened the door, she knew she would not find Alexandria here. All previous visits had showcased an impressive glow for a multitude of candles. There was nary a light to be seen. Still, she had to be certain and she opened the door to confirm her suspicions. No one was here. In fact, from what she could tell (using the light in the hallway), it was in the exact same condition it had been in since their devastating confrontation, as if no one had even entered the room since then.

The grandfather clock she had passed earlier told her it was nearly midnight. If Alexandria wasn't here or her bedroom, that meant she could be literally anywhere in the mansion. And as has been previously established, the mansion was quite large. Clarke thought a moment longer and decided to check the parlour room next. There were a number of bookshelves there, and she assumed Alexandria liked to read when not entertaining.

The parlour room was on the main floor, so that is where she headed next. However, before she made it to the staircase, she heard a noise. It was distant, but it was there. Something told her to move towards the noise rather than away from it. The closer she got, the more distinct it became, and Clarke recognized it as the sound of someone crying. She also realized she had unwittingly ventured into the wing of the mansion Alexandria had avoided during her tour. The one where her entire family had eventually succumbed to their illness.

Curiously, the sound all but vanished when she drew near. A faint flicker of light directed her to the precise room the crying was emanating from. Clarke edged up to the partially opened door and peeked inside. A woman in a robe was on their knees, long hair down, arms and face pressed to the top of a bed, sobbing for all their worth, but now stifling the sound. This was clearly a very vulnerable, intimate moment for Alexandria, and Clarke felt odd about intruding, but it was anyone's guess when she would stop crying. Besides which, her heart ached at the sight of Alexandria so in despair. She could not have stopped herself from going to her, even had she tried.

Silently she moved to her side, and knelt beside her, resting the cane flat as she did so. Clarke placed a hand to her shuddering shoulder, which startled Alexandria a great deal, but nothing in comparison to her wide eyed gaze at discovering the source of her disturbance.

"Clarke?" her voice cracked.

Alexandria reached out and touched her face, fingers trembling. She gasped at the contact. "I thought you were an apparition come to torment me further. But you're real. You're really here," she murmured in awe, as her woebegone eyes scanned her face.

"I am," replied Clarke, voice almost as heavy with emotion as Alexandria's.

Alexandria dropped her hand, glancing away, looking ashamed. "Why? I treated you abominably."

"You know why," said Clarke, placing a hand overtop hers. She had removed her gloves just as soon as they had regained feeling, and now they were a decent temperature, though not as warm as they should be.

When Alexandria dared to make eye contact again, Clarke smiled gently. Alexandria looked very much like she wanted to embrace her but didn't believe she had the right. Clarke took the initiative and drew her into yet another hug in which she could feel the softness of Alexandria's body even through her coat. Tonight however, she was not aroused by the sensation of their bodies pressing together, and only wished to provide comfort to the girl who had lost everything.

She stroked her back and Alexandria clung to her tighter, crying softly against her shoulder. Even after the tears ceased, she continued to hold Alexandria for some time, enjoying the intimacy of the moment, of how wonderful she smelled, of simply being in her presence.

Clarke reluctantly pulled back to cup her face. "What happened to them...it wasn't your fault, Alexandria. I need you to believe that."

Pain flashed across her face, then slowly dissolved into nothingness. She nodded at Clarke. They simply stayed that way staring at one another like they used to, and then Alexandria's gaze lowered down to her lips, and Clarke decided it was now or never. Her heart beat like charging horse hooves as she did the thing she had wanted to do for quite awhile. Kissing Alexandria was not at all like kissing Roan. It had been pleasantly enjoyable with Roan, but with Alexandria...Clarke finally understood what Octavia had been going on about when she kissed Lincoln. Kissing Alexandria sent her senses spiralling out of control, soaring to new heights. Kissing Alexandria was as close to divinity as she was likely to get while hopelessly Earthbound. In her elevated mind, there were no doubts left as to whether or not this was the correct path for her to follow.

When they eventually parted, panting - more from emotion than for want of lack of air - Clarke could see that Alexandria believed very much the same thing. She was looking at her like she was heaven sent and Clarke had never felt more desirable and at peace with the world. Arms on each others shoulders, they leaned their foreheads together, as if to steady one another both physically and mentally. Secretly, they smiled, knowing whatever happened next, this perfect moment could never be taken away from them.

"Clarke," breathed out Alexandria, "what are we going to do now?"

"Whatever we want. Nothing shall stop us now. Not your engagement, nor Titus nor anyone else."

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I should never have agreed to that arrangement. But you were hesitating to accept Roan's proposal and I knew I wasn't strong enough to refuse you should you inexplicably reciprocate my feelings."

"Inexplicably?" wondered Clarke. She pulled back enough to look into her eyes. "You sell yourself woefully short, Alexandria. You are incredibly talented," she kissed her nose, "and beautiful," she kissed her cheek, "and kind," she kissed her other cheek, thinking of her donations and attention to the orphanage.

"Kind? I think n-"

Clarke kissed her forehead. "And human." She smirked at her. "Though I wondered if perhaps you were a spirit of the woods the first time we met."

Alexandria smiled slightly at that. "You did?"

Clarke nodded and wrapped her arms around her neck. "And I was also very desirous to find you again. You struck quite the chord within me, Alexandria."

"As did you, Clarke," she muttered before bringing their lips together again and sinking into the pleasure such physical contact afforded them. Hands on her waist, Alexandria then pulled her into a standing position. They had been kneeling for quite some time on the cold hard floor and the pain of such a position had finally made itself known through the haze of their blissful interactions. Whereas their previous kiss had been mostly respectful, this one was not. Alexandria deepened the kiss to such an extent that Clarke mimicked her actions from her dream and moaned. This area of the mansion was frigid from lack of fires, but Clarke was quite warm within the confines of her wool coat.

She unbuttoned her jacket and awkwardly shook out of it as they continued to kiss fervently. However, when she attempted to slip the robe from Alexandria's shoulders, she was stopped with a hand to her wrist. "Not here," Alexandria whispered against her lips, rubbing her nose against hers.

Understanding came to her gradually, as well as the silliness of her actions. Titus and his men still needed to be dealt with. Now was hardly the time to lose herself in Alexandria's earthly delights.

Clarke pulled further away and thought of how best to tell her that her loyal advisor – or spiritual leader or whatever his purpose truly was - had threatened her life. Her consternation must have made itself apparent, for Alexandria likewise frowned and placed a hand to the side of her face, caressing it softly.

"Clarke?"

Suddenly Clarke was afraid of their altercation playing out poorly, so she clasped Alexandria's hand against her face and blurted, "Come away with me to Paris. Tonight."

Alexandria raised both eyebrows, then chuckled, then frowned again. "As much as I enjoy your spontaneity, Clarke, I can't help but feel as though you are keeping something from me." She brought her knuckles to her lips briefly. "Please know that you can tell me anything."

"I do know that," said Clarke, worrying her lip. Alexandria continued to gaze at her steadfastly and there was no possibility of refusal. With slumped shoulders and a sigh, she informed her of her eventful night. Alexandria's posture became stiffer and stiffer with the telling, she worked her jaw too and fro in great agitation, and her breathing became almost as erratic as when they were kissing. In short, she was very angry.

"That flapdoodle, pigeon-livered bastard!*" she exclaimed so darkly as to be almost unrecognizable. "If he thinks that he can simply do as he pleases without consequence, he is very much mistaken!"

Alexandria turned to leave but Clarke grabbed her hand. "Please, let us just go!"

Alexandria glared at her, though Clarke knew the severe look was not really meant for her. "He assaulted you, Clarke...threatened your life," she said dangerously quiet, nostrils flaring. "I will not let that stand."

Alexandria stormed away from her and she dashed to keep up. "If you must do this, at least take a moment to compose yourself so that we may come up with a plan of action together!"

"I do not need a plan of action," returned Alexandria obstinately. "He is my servant and he will do as I say. They all will!"

Her arrogance was irritating to say the least but hardly surprising given her state of mind. Further entreaties proved just as fruitless so they fell into a tense silence. On the ground floor, Alexandria barked at a stray servant extinguishing the last of the lights to bring Titus to her in the parlour room.

It wasn't long before he made himself known. He bristled when he saw Clarke. Alexandria redirected his attention back to herself.

"Yes, she is still alive, Titus."

Rather than quail under her thorny gaze and tone, he simply moved further into the room, positioning himself a few feet in front of his mistress. The fact that he was so unmoved by her obvious wrath only served to fuel a greater sense of impending doom for Clarke.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" demanded Alexandria. "How do you possibly justify such heinous acts?"

"There is no need for justification," he replied. "I answer to a higher power than that of yourself. I do as the Lord wills."

Alexandria gripped the back of a chair. Her knuckles were white from the exertion.

"You threatened an innocent girls life! How on earth is that the will of the Lord?!"

"Innocent?" he sneered, his sight landing on Clarke again. "I think not. She is a snake in the grass, a temptress, leading you astray once more." He glanced back at Alexandria. "If your feelings for her were not blinding you so, you would be able to see that I am only doing what is best for your soul. Just as I have always done."

Clarke thought she understood his meaning plainly. That he had interfered with Alexandria's previous relationship with Costia. Apparently Alexandria was not so lost to her rage that she too could fathom his meaning. She stepped around the chair and stood within arms reach, though she kept her arms behind her back in a very reminiscent manner to dealing with herself.

"What did you do?" exhaled Alexandria, in a useless effort to calm herself. "Speak truly."

"After I learned of your...dalliance with that country girl, I prayed for guidance, and the answer was clear. I spoke to Costia at length and made her see the error of her ways. Then I paid a man to propose to her, and she readily accepted. She knew what must be done to save her soul. I only wish that you could as well."

Alexandria's whole body was vibrating with rage and emotion. Clarke had never seen someone more angry in her entire life. It was a testament to Alexandria's willpower that she was not throttling the man. In that moment she was actually a bit fearful of the countess. And yet Titus remained completely unaffected.

"You dared to interfere in my affairs?! You dare to continue to interfere! Such insolence and betrayal will not be borne!" She pointed towards the side of the mansion. "Get out!"

"I cannot leave until you have renounced the snake."

"Do not call her that!" snarled Alexandria, grabbing his lapels and yanking him forward so that they were practically nose to nose. "Clarke is not going anywhere unless she should wish it!"

"Then I am afraid I must take matters into my own hands," he said solemnly, effortlessly breaking free from her grasp and spinning her around to restrain her that way, much as he had done to Clarke.

"Let her go!" yelled Clarke, surging forward, cursing herself for forgetting to bring the cane with her. She settled for picking up the chair Alexandria had been using to anchor herself. This she attempted to swing at Titus's back, but he turned with Alexandria, nearly causing Clarke to hit her instead. A moment later the doorman had appeared out of nowhere and knocked her to the ground. They struggled there for a time until she managed to bite his hand, drawing blood. He groaned in pain but she did not take pity on him and instead stood up and kicked him in the head, effectively rendering him unconscious.

Both Titus and Alexandria were looking at her a little uncertainly, as if not expecting such savagery from such a young woman. Alexandria however, overcame her surprise much faster than Titus and took a page out of Clarke's book and backwards headbutt the man. His grip lessened enough that she was able to manoeuvre herself away. Clarke then grabbed the sideways chair and smashed it across his back and head and he dropped like a sack of stones. She tossed aside the bits of wood that had broken off in her hands and brought Alexandria into a secure embrace.

"Clarke, that was amazing," murmured Alexandria.

"Consider the favour returned," she replied a bit shakily, hardly believing she had done any of that by herself. The day had been very long and the night had been very trying, and yet she was hardly tired. How could she be when she was in Alexandria's arms? "Your well being is my primary concern."

Alexandria pulled away from her in order to take her hands and beam at her. She was clearly about to kiss her when a couple of other servants garbed in sleepwear hurried into the room, stopping dead in their tracks when they saw the carnage.

"Mistress?" said one of them timidly, gawking at the display before them.

Without glancing away from Clarke for one instant, she said, "See that Titus, Samuel and Quint's things are collected. They are dismissed from my employ and are never to set foot on the Woods grounds again. If any of them prove difficult to evacuate, simply shoot them."

"Mistress?" wondered the poor woman, even more wide-eyed than before.

Alexandria held back a smirk as she continued, "Send someone into town. Ask for Sergeant Miller. He will assist your efforts without fail. In the meantime, see that Titus and Samuel are secured within this room. When Quint arrives, likewise do the same. Use as many men as is necessary to ensure your own safety."

Clarke looked towards the two servants. "Be careful, he had a knife."

Alexandria then took her out of the room and began leading her back up the stairs.

"Where are we going?" asked Clarke.

"Paris, of course," came the immediate reply. "We had better get packing."

*A cowardly asshole who can't get it up

Titus is such a prick. It's amazing how wrong I got his character in First Cut is the Deepest.

So I guess I'm continuing this in Paris...though I COULD just leave it as is.