Hello everyone, and thank you for your patience! I know I said I would post it much earlier, and I'm sorry to have raised hopes. The truth is, as I wrote, I realize too many things were happening in the same chapter. It was heavy, all happening too fast, and I couldn't just stop at where I intended the chapter to end. It felt more logical to put the other events after.

From this moment, there were two ways I felt this could go. Now, here's the way I had chosen.

Here, I hope you will enjoy it!

...

Tara plantation, in the study, April 16th

"I saw her, Pa! I saw her by my window slip in to join that man in the warehouse! She ruined us! She did!"

Sitting on the couch, Gerald O'Hara listened to his daughter's prattle. He was smoking his pipe, and couldn't help the smile.

A quiet pride came over him.

Bah, his Puss had waited quite a long time, of course, she was taking things by herself to a new level! He could not blame her for that. She was a determinate one, his Katie Scarlett. Just like him. It was the O'Hara blood in her, that daring leap of faith to get what they wanted. Now, there was no turning back, and Rhett would have to submit to fate, and stop moping around.

Of course, that thing with the Hamilton boy was embarrassing. Yet, all would have to agree that Rhett was a better match than the boy.

His Sue was just jealous because so far she wasn't really successful with her only beau.

"Won't you punish her?" Suellen finally said, wondering with irritation if she had only been heard.

He blinked, then let out a sigh.

In his mind, the wedding bells were ringing. He would berate Scarlett for good forms, yes. Mrs. O'Hara would not like it, but it was the way things were, and she would have to agree with it.

"Punish? Yes, yes. I suppose I should. Now do go and brush your hair, or whatever you young ladies like to do. I want me daughters to be pretty for the event..."

"Event? What event?"

For the big wedding.

Suellen rolled her eyes.

"I'll tell Mother..."

"Now don't you go and talk to yer mother about it," He chided, putting his arm across her shoulders to guide her out of the room. "I'll handle it. You'll only worry her, and you know how sensitive and busy she is. Don't you worry your little head and hers for this little matter. Let yer Pa do his thing."

"Then nothing will be done," She muttered bitterly as she left the room with the door closing loudly.

He did not hear it. In fact, nothing, it seemed, could have deterred him. And when Pork announced his daughter's future groom, it was with enthusiasm he welcomed him, taking him in his arms like a son he would truly become, and inviting him to sit by his side on the sofa.

Rhett though seemed grave, and nervous. And dark.

Bah! Gerald dismissed. Of course he was! It was not every day one tied the knot!

"So, now you're here to claim your prize?" He jested.

Rhett's big hands fidgeted together, thumb against thumb.

"I have to stop her."

"That'd be obvious. You're quite late, me lad. Now, what do you have to say in defense?"

"Defense?" On his face, the black brows raised almost haughtily. "No defense, no."

"Attack then," Gerald grinned, pouring brandy to the both of them with good nature.

Yet, it did not seem to appease the young man in front of him, to the contrary. He frowned, examining his friend's face as one would gaze at a lunatic. A bit warily and worried.

"It's not a game, Gerald. By God, for once I'm trying to do the right thing..."

"And what could be stopping you?" He grinned, mimicked a deep thinking. "Oh... I see. "

"No you don't. You don't know… I took her, Gerald ! She came to me and I took her !"

Looking at him, at the violence in his eyes, the sudden pacing of one caged animal as he raised, Gerald felt uneasy. He paused.

"Well, I suppose young bloods are boiling…"

Rhett let out a sharp laugh, his hand gripping the glass jerking, spilling some of the drink on the carpet.

"Boiling? Yes, I suppose they are. Mine is, damn me, and now I'm tied. I can't get out. One would think I'd never get trapped like this, but I did. And the bitter thing is that I know she hadn't even thought of it! She came to me, Gerald! She came to me and I... I couldn't resist. You understand it, don't you?"

"I understand you've got a hanker for my Puss, which is not that grave..."

"Not that grave... Not that grave..." Rhett repeated, taken aback. "She loves Ashley Wilkes. Don't you know how painful it was, to see her that desperate that she would ask me to make love to her? To think that she may not think of me as she gave herself to me, to think that I could be any man!" He gulped. "And still, I craved it, and I hated myself to crave it so. She asked me to love her… I do love her, damn her. Damn me! What about me? She's under my skin, and I know I shouldn't have, for I took advantage of her youth, of her vulnerability, and she of mine, without knowing she did..."

"Now, pup, you're making it too hard a deed..." Gerald tried to reply, barely processing the words that had been spoken. "Now what are you saying, that you…"

"Too hard? Blast, Gerald! I'm telling you I made love to your daughter, and that's your reaction? You should be putting a gun on me and leading me to the altar! You should..."

"We're between civilized persons, aren't we?" Said father said quietly, examining the man in front of him, for once wondering if he had not been too hasty in his judgment. Before dismissing it in a shrug. Of course, he had been right! "And I've had the inkling it might come to that. Would have been blind not to. In fact, I just thought you might have taken action much sooner."

He put down the glass on the table, gazing for a moment at the carpet with a fond smile.

"I always knew you'd be right for that, and for Tara, and if it had to come to that..."

Rhett stared at him, bewildered.

"Tara? I don't want that farm."

Something shattered in the room.

"Farm?"

Gerald swelled with refrained anger, then swelled off.

The boy did not know what he was talking about. And he was refusing Tara, his dream come true, that haven he built for himself and his folks?

Rhett was still that. A boy, quite spoiled too. He never had to build anything of his own hands, never had to try to earn his way of life like Gerald did.

"Farms can't survive to the war," Rhett continued, as if nothing had happened. Quickly, hurriedly, a series of words that seemed to have been repeated over and over. "I'll leave her to England, she'd be safe there. You'd better follow too, if you know what's good for you..."

Gerald's ears fumed.

England? He would dare to leave HIS Katie Scarlett there? She who was the delight of the County? His pride and joy, only bare second to Tara and Mrs. O'Hara?

The anger swelled back again, red and furious. Red anger with dark fear. His own Katie Scarlett, so far from him already, and still farther away in the future.

That man was but an Orangeman, after all. He had forgotten about it. No decency under these pleasant manners. He had been lured. And now...

Now, it exploded.

No, he could not allow it. He would not!

"You go too fast, me boy," He seethed. "I never said I would permit it."

"What?"

He had tried to be understanding. He still tried to. Yet, understanding under the strength of his emotions became a cold condescension, so much that in the heat of the moment, he almost forgot how enthusiastic he had been minutes before about the subject. It felt like an earthquake had shaken the house to the core, the roof and colons falling to pieces from the strength of it. He was trying to gather it all, but his rage made him focus on the cause of that catastrophe with the vicious fear of à threatened animal.

Being of a simple mind, he only thought that once he had wanted it, yet now he did not want it, and that all ties could not make him bend his decision once he had taken it.

He tried to be soft. He really tried to. He let out a sharp breath, trying to regain his composure. Then, he almost regretted his early enthusiasm. But how to go back with dignity?

"It's no use, me boy. She made her choice, and so did you. Another time, I would have urged you to, and kicked you for good measure," In fact, he almost did. "Yet, now, Rhett's previous words came to him, and he used them. They were comfortable and steady. "Yet, now I see if she marries you, she will not be welcomed anywhere. Her mother is right. Scarlett is young, and, if you're right, the days ahead of us will be dark, and you will not always be there. You admitted so yourself. You cannot want her to live like that, waiting for you as you go from place to place, without being able to take her. Yet, it's not only my choice, and I see it clear, lad. You would grow to resent one another, and I don't want my daughter to be miserable."

"Miserable," Rhett repeated, then shook his head. No, it had to be a joke. It had to be. "I wonder who's the miserable one out of the two. Why did she have to come to me? Why did she have to ask me that? She asked me... She said she wanted to know... She talked to me about the women I've met... Oh damn, what twisted idea must have come to her head? I've pushed her, and pushed her to learn, and to experience... Is this how it plays on me? She uses me to experience it? I suppose the idea of doing it with a skilled lover, one she knows might be reassuring for her cold mind, a cold and precious mind... Yet how it turned on me!" He gasped. "And what if... What if she used me to use it on another? No, no... I can't let that happen... I wouldn't bear it!"

Now that was enough! Gerald thought.

"Get out, boy," His booming voice raised such as he, hot and fiery, in one terrible fit of temper that made him red as the clay of Tara, his blue eyes popping out in contrast with a light his ancestors would have thought coming from a Leprechaun about to lose his gold. "You've insulted me and me daughter more than enough, and I won't stand for it. If you knew her that much, you'd know she would not give herself to any other man! And to England? To that damn country? Over my dead body! I'd better see her dead than go there!"

His gaze went to the window, up to the glaring sun that raised, up to the warehouses where already the people of Tara were walking to, singing and joking, and relieved by the lack of Wilkerson who had been dismissed by Mrs. O'Hara the day before. Up there to a girl sleeping on a bed of cotton, with one coat and one word that might not be fulfilled. His fist clenched, remembering, the delirious joy of coming together, the tender slumber taking the two, and the dread afterwards. She'd be safe in the storage, he thought. Best not to trouble her sleep. Best not to disturb that dream... But now it was shattering, and feet begged to be taken back to it.

He shook his head. He needed to take the control back.

"You… You should be asking me to do the right thing, not going away."

"And the right thing at the moment is not you marrying her. You are not right for her now. You're not right for anyone. You... defiler of daughters! Corruptor of innocence!"

Rhett paled, something alight in his eyes dangerous and dark, like an animal cornered and enraged. His strong body appeared wounded and vulnerable for a moment, before it straightened and tensed like a bow. A corner of his mouth went down, the other up in a biting lopsided grin that frightened by its asymmetry. It came to the rogue's lips, showing teeth like one would show weapons. A mixture of threatened and threatening, with a tinge of ironic, biting fatality one would have when facing something they already knew would happen.

"Corruptor of innocence... Yes, these words are familiar... I suppose I am... My father would agree with you," He said quietly. "But I'll come back. I will. And when I do, I'll get what's mine."

This is the devil, Gerald thought. I've invited the devil to my home, and he will take everything from me.

Not if he had something to say! Not if he had a living breath in his body!

"Get out!" Gerald bellowed. "Else I'll shoot you! I will!"

The smile widened, almost amused by such threat as Rhett turned a last time, halfway to the door. Gerald's blood boiled.

"Pork, get me me gun!"

The gun was already loaded, and the Irishman looked up in bewilderment at Pork, whose usual placid dark eyes bore now a fiery expression. For once, a question came to his head. What if he did not come to his fortune alone, by sheer luck and cunnings?

It happened in one second, maybe two. But it was enough. For as soon as they turned back, the door of the room closed with a furious bang.

And they stared for a moment

"Yes, go, cowarrd! Gobshite! " Gerald finally shouted, his fist raised high as he threw his glass against the door. "Go with the... with the... the bleedin' state of ye!"

"Mistah Gerald... Scarlett..."

That's when he remembered. He winced. Then recovered. His chest puffed in self outrage. Of course, he had thought of Scarlett! How could anyone doubt it?

Such thought exacerbated the natural concern and anger that would have naturally burned from his entire being by its own. Now, it heightened even more, and the tone became sharp and with a thick layer of accent. It was only after a moment that it came to him.

"Scarlett... Someone get Scarlett outta it! Go, Pork, ye lazy hole. Twould not be done all by meself!"

He waved his arms with needless reels, and Pork left the room, and shouted orders.

Thank God Mrs. O'Hara had raised early, and was gone in her charities, Gerald thought. Thank God...

He paced, and paced, yet the same thoughts came to him over and over.

"He took her... He took Scarlett..."

He paused.

"In my cotton warehouse?"

The vein in his temple almost burst.

He was in such a state of temper, he completely blacked out, he wouldn't remember a thing after that. It was only when throwing a lighting match in one blood-stained bale of cotton he ever knew he had been running to the storage and rummaging to find it.

And when the flame raised, he stared at it, dumb and fascinating, the cotton browning then disappearing in front of him. Red. Red like fire, like blood, like anger... Red like him...

"Mistah Gerald!"

"Pa!"

There, he saw Pork taking him by the arm, shouting, and Scarlett, crying as women tried to force her out.

Then, the smoke blinded him, heavy and hot on him, taking over his nose and mouth, gathering in his throat.

"Get out! Get out!"

Yet, once he was out, the fire called to him once more and with a wrathful roar, he tried to run back to it, ignoring the slaves trying to put it out.

No, it should not be put out!

"What are you doing?" Scarlett cried. "Pa! Stop it!"

He froze, half animal, half human. His wrath left the burning warehouse, to turn toward the real threat to his mind.

No, that was not his daughter. Not his Puss. This woman, he knew nothing of her. She was a bad woman, disloyal and debauched, like bad women could be.

"Huair!"He roared, pointing. "Scarleeh fer yer mah fer havin' ye! Scarleeeh fer yer mah!"

He let out a last cry of anger that raised as the smoke above the warehouse, a deep and angry grey that turned softer. He fell on his knees, his head lowered, defeated. The fire was extinguished, in and out.

"How could you, Scarlett?" He cried with a voice he did not recognize. A broken voice, when he had thought himself all rage. "Have ye not thought at all ?

A breeze came grazing her nightgown as she stared at him, and he saw her heart in her eyes. A call to understand that he wanted to ignore, but that shook him to the core.

"I wanted to have something of him. Something that I would call my own," Her voice was frail and soft. Looking at her, so pale and vulnerable, hearing her, vulnerable, yet with a clearness that made him realize she did not regret it, his anger faded away. "I love him, Pa... And he will come back. He will! He wrote so, even if I said... Oh, Pa!"

He faltered at such a declaration. Then all came back at him. No, he was not angry for what she had done. He understood it. He was angry, and sad that it did not come as they wished. His knees gave in.

She had given herself to him... And yet, he could not blame her for that. No, he could not.

"As did I..."

He had been the son he never had.

Scarlett threw her arms around him, her petite form clinging to him as when she was a child.

"Oh, Pa..." She whimpered. "You've burnt an entire storage."

He cursed.

"Damn you, Rhett Butler!"

….

Tara Plantation, April 20th 1861

"I have to tell you... Oh, how ashamed I am, to have such a sister!" Suellen's shrill voice echoed in the room as Scarlett quietly opened the door. The younger girl was leaning close to Charles with an ingenue posture, hands gathered together as if for a prayer. A ingenue pause that was ruined if one took notice of the vicious glint in her eyes, the eagerness in the tone and the obvious wish to get one of her sister's beaus. To Scarlett, every gesture seemed grotesque, especially as one little hand came to the lips in affected shock, which only accentuated in fact the importance of the gossip that was about to be uttered. "She gave herself to another! And none other than..."

There, Scarlett could not bear any more of it. Her hand had clenched, white as boiled bones, and everything seemed exacerbated. "Hush your mouth, Suellen."

For one moment, she forgot the Hamiltons siblings to whom such speech was directed, and almost went up and slapped Suellen. Yet, there was no denying anymore the two, the boy trying to keep the straight pose of a soldier being called for duty while listening to one shocking truth, and the girl trying to conceal something in her hand as she saw her friend. An envelope. A letter, perhaps.

Charles was the one to break it.

"Is that true?"

Scarlett opened her mouth, closed it. For a moment, she gazed haggardly, the words she had practiced forgotten in the heavy atmosphere. They were all staring at her, and the triumph in Suellen's eyes was too much to bear. It was Charles that uttered the words, and the softness of it troubled her more than any angry accusation would have done.

Besides her brother, Melanie straightened and walked firmly.

"Oh, Scarlett!" She cried as she took Scarlett fiercely into her frail arms. "You are such a passionate creature. And he too! I should have seen it coming. But in the selfish joy of thinking of yourself as my sister... Oh, forgive me for having been so selfish! I've been a terrible friend!"

"That's why I wanted to see you," She said softly, patting Melly's back before softly pushing her away. Somehow, she found some strength she thought she didn't have. She looked at Charles and pondered what would be the most efficient strategy. Yet, looking into his soft brown eyes, the same as Melly's, her will weakened for a moment, before it came back to her with a force. No, there was no way out of it. She'd have to be honest. She owed it to Melly at least. And if he was Melly's brother, then certainly, it was the best she could use. "I'll not force you to keep your engagement to me. It wouldn't be right for me to ask you that, with respect to Melly and our friendship. You are such a good brother to her, and I don't want to be the one to jeopardize your bond."

"Then don't. Don't break your engagement to me," He put a knee down and looked at her with a fervor that broke her heart. "When you came to me, you told me I could never be more than a brother to you, and that I did not have to expect anything more from you. You were firm about that, and I accepted. I accepted because I'd rather be the husband of one fiery damsel in distress than the miserable husband of Honey Wilkes. I am a man of my words, Miss O'Hara. Let me be the one you need."

She trembled. I'll come back, he had written. I'll come back.

She was his, he had claimed her as his. She could still feel his warm arms around her, an imprint she thought would never fade from her skin. He would come back.

Yet, so far, he had not.

"And if someone came to claim me?" She answered with a trembling voice.

"I'll step away."

"And... if there's a child?" She fidgeted.

To be honest, she had never intended for it to go so far. In fact, that part had never been explained to her, though she had caught some hints in ribald discussions, and allusions of her mother, who talked of a duty that had to be born quietly, but never explained what it was. She wanted his kisses, and she wanted his embrace, and when she got it, there was something more, something she couldn't stop. Something she did not want to stop. It took her all over, her body reacting to every caress, every kiss, and demanding more, more, more... And when he made her a woman, she realized he was as bound to her as she was to him and there was no turning back. It was something that came naturally, so naturally that she was perplexed that no shame came to her at this, only the vexation of it being discovered so soon. And in fact, how could she feel ashamed over something that brought her that much pleasure?

Just the memory of it made her shiver.

She was not a good girl, that she knew. No lady should feel like this. Yet, she had long given up on that fantasy. She was no girl anymore.

"Then, I'll be the proud father of one incredible woman's son. If you'll have me."

She gaped, suddenly coming back to reality.

"You would do that?"

"That's how much I respect you."

"No, please hear what I have to say…" She had told him that day, she remembered. "I will accept it if you promise never to expect me to have any other feelings or behaviors than that of a sister, and to protect me, always, as a brother would."

This sounded too good to be true. Yet, she had to try. She might have no other choice.

"I'll have you."

He smiled brightly, and she felt her heart squeezing in guilt.

They were too good for her. And yet, she was willing to use them all the same. She had no other choice.

"So this is it, then? She won't be punished for what she did?"

Scarlett blinked, then sighed. Of course, Suellen wouldn't leave it alone!

"Could you please let me with my sister?" She asked softly.

Yet, the soft expression faded as the Hamiltons nodded and left, and Suellen stepped back warily.

"If you think..."

"Hush, Suellen," She said sharply as she came to her. "And before you shout it out to everyone, be conscious of it: a girl's tarnished reputation is not only her own. It impacts the whole family."

"That's your problem." Her sister said defiantly, almost naggingly.

Scarlett's eyes narrowed. Could she be that foolish?

"It's yours too. Do you think Frank Kennedy would marry you if your sister were a fallen woman?"

The younger girl faltered.

"He..."

"Think a little!"

Suellen let out a cry of frustration and stamped her foot. There, she seemed so young, younger than her fifteen years.

"It's so unfair!"

"Life is unfair," Scarlett thought. One dreamed, yet all dreams were meant to fail.

"One tries to do the good thing, and you, you just ruin it all!" Suellen cried. "And yet, everything is handed to you! The dresses, the boys, all! You even have Grandfather's support! And you're not punished, despite all of your wrongs! Just like that bad influence you have over Melanie Hamilton! Do you realize you're separating the two families on your own? Why, India Wilkes had to slip a letter to me, hoping to get to her!"

"Because you think it's easy, being me?" Scarlett raised her voice. "Oh, Suellen, could you be anything else but petty and uptight? No, certainly you have to be another thing than that!"

"I'm not. I'm not!" Suellen cried. "And even if I was, it is all your fault! Why does everything have to be about you? Why not me? I could be so much better than you! I'm not like you!"

"Fiddle-dee-dee, you're certainly not proving it to me !" She raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Then, what are you?"

Her sister paled, then faltered. Her mouth opened, closed, and repeated again. Yet, Scarlett was in no mood to be patient to such girl.

"No, don't answer! Great balls of fire, I don't care!"

And with that said, her vexation was expressed, and she felt the satisfaction of having the last word as she left the scene.

Yet, the satisfaction was short-lived. She had left one problem in the room, yet now another araised, in the form of the gentle Melly who was resting on a bench.

"Melly..." She whispered, before coming to her. "Melly, you're pale! Why were you waiting?"

And are you aware I couldn't have done it without you? Was the thing that came to her mind. But she dismissed it quickly. No, it was Melly that needed help, not her!

The young woman's body trembled and trembled until it seemed she would break.

"Oh, Scarlett... I can't go back... I can't..."

Her head shook from right to left as Scarlett tried to soothe her. She put her hands on her shoulders and sat by her side.

"Oh, Melly, where is Charles? He should have stayed..."

"Charles offered to pick me a glass of water..."

Melanie dropped her head on Scarlett's lap and sighed. On her hand was still gripping an opened letter.

"Read it," She said. "Please, read and understand. I can't go back, darling. Please, don't let me... Let me stay."

At first reading, it seemed there was nothing but the dull and uninteresting little marks of politeness of India Wilkes. But as she read it for the second time, she realized the subtle pressure in it.

Oh, the miserable Wilkes! They were trying to make Melanie feel guilty to get her back!

But not on Scarlett's watch!

Of course, Melly would stay!

….

Clayton County, April 30th

There, the big day had arrived, yet it came with more whispers about the war than about the actual subject of it. The rebellion, far from being repressed by President Lincoln's call, grew more and more. On the 19th, a blockade against the Confederate states had been declared, yet the Confederates grinned and laughed. Why, as if it could stop them!

And there, Scarlett waited for the end of her grooming, her heart beating as time passed. Yet, she could not sleep. She could not eat.

Her blood was late by two days.

I'll come back, he had written.

Scarlett looked at the image the mirror reflected her, and failed to recognize herself. Why, she seemed so dull and sad and weary!

She flushed. She couldn't allow herself to look like that!

"Now, mah lamb, don't cry..." Mammy said softly after the last stroke. "It's as it should be. Yer Ma too struggled. Love comes and goes. But dere's a man who'll stay..."

Scarlett pondered over the words, yet could not entirely believe it.

Mammy sighed, then seemed to give it up, finally allowing Pansy and Cheyenne for the more delicate parts of the grooming.

And when it was done, there, she was satisfied. At least up to a point.

"Bonjour, Scarlett..."

She froze, then turned back, apprehensive.

"Grand-père?"

"Did you really think I would let you do such a thing without doing anything?"

Pierre Robillard was leaning with an affected lazy grin on the threshold. There, she realized there was more gray hair on his head, and the lion's wrinkle had creased since the last time she had seen him.

She paused, then turned back to the mirror to the fixing of possible erring strands.

"Now, you foolish girl, what are you doing?"

She scowled, black brows gathering in an angry arch as her lips pursed.

"Like mother, like daughter. I'm deciding my life."

He stared, dumbfounded. A sudden paleness came to him, before he recovered. Yet, there was an urgency in his voice, like that of a man who once had lost everything, and now risking losing it all over again.

"Scarlett..."

She faltered.

"Oh, Grand-Père... Do not ask me to choose. I love you, I do. But these are my roots."

"Your roots are also in France, don't forget it."

"They are yours, not mine."

"They are yours too." He retorted. "Come with me, now. You wanted to make your point, and I bow to that. Now, don't you go marry a silly boy just to prove your point."

She shook her head. If only it was that easy!

"I can't. Oh, Grand-Père, I can't," She pleaded, hoping to make him understand. "There's no other way for me, now."

He stared at her.

"Are you..." His brow wrinkled. "With that little boy? Scarlett..."

"Not him!" She snapped fiercely.

He examined her, then let out a snort, which evolved into full laughter. She took umbrage to that.

"Well, had I known it..." He said between two fits. "Tu sais bien assurer tes arrières, ma fille!"

He laughed some more. Then sighed.

"Ma chère fille, you just made my day. Just for that, I'd be quite tempted to put it to Mr. Butler senior's face. He who once begged me to consider marrying your Rhett to Ellen! Wanting to unite both families by marriage ! He and his foolish honor, thinking he would erase one generation of piracy and accede to nobility with it! He'd choke if only he knew! Who knows if it'd be the only the only young boy that comes from his lineage, with the way he handles his other sons and daughter!"

She blinked.

"What?"

Mother, with Rhett? Now, that was just a nightmare.

"It's alright. Fine, Scarlett. Mon petit chat," He said with amused tenderness. "You may have your way."

Her eyes softened.

"Thank y-"

"At one condition."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, it was too good to be true."

"I'll make him my heir. With all that it includes: schooling, travels, tout ce qui touche aux bonnes manières, etc.." His hand waved in one circular way, like a mill's tourniquet under an eager wind. "But now, it seems there's a way for both of us to use one another."

"Fiddle-dee-dee! What makes you think it'd be a boy?"

"Eh bien, if that's a girl, that'd be even funnier. And bit more difficult, maybe, but certainly funnier. I failed with you, perhaps this one may do the trick. Jamais deux sans trois, après tout."

"You did not fail with me," She retorted. "You're just angry because you did not get what you wanted. Mauvais perdant."

He chuckled and she stomped her foot.

"And what do I gain for that?"

"Other than your child being my heir?" He let out a bemused smile.

"You need a heir. I don't need my child to be yours."

"My, Scarlett, you're becoming hard in bargaining. Good. What do you suggest?"

"Some favors, that you would grant me in time."

"Some? You better come out with a number." He said crossing his arms nonchalantly, yet his eyes speculative. "I'll say one."

"Five."

"Two."

"Six."

"Now, you're being ridiculous," He snorted. "How about three? I'll be your very own Genie."

She gave him a little smile.

"I like the idea."

"Of course, ma petite rusée."

She looked at him and realized suddenly that the deal was more of an act. He had wanted to grant her what she wanted from the first; Her shoulders relaxed, and her heart swelled pleasantly.

Dear, dear Grand-Père! He wouldn't want to appear to give in to her easily, yet he cared for her.

"But of course, as my heir, he would have one thing to do, and you too, as his mother."

"Which is?" She huffed, disappointed with the foolish hope he would not ask anything.

He grinned. "To go to France with me when I say it. For the protection of our interests, of course."

From her lips came laughter. She accepted his arm when he presented it to her. "You never give up when you have an idea in mind, do you?"

"Jamais," Pierre Robillard retorted, before whispering softly to her ear. "Très belle, ma chère... Tu ressembles tellement à ta grand-mère..."

She almost snorted. She did not want to be compared with anyone else.

She had her mother's wedding dress, and her fate as well, it seemed.

No. Not quite that. Rhett was alive. Rhett was alive, and he would come! She had promised Melly, poor Melly who was still incapacitated and resting, to recall everything to her afterward.

Yet, when Rhett would come, that promise would go unfulfilled... She pursed her lips.

Bah, she shrugged. She'd think of it another time. Rhett will come. It was just like him to wait for the last moment.

She repeated that in her mind as she walked up the aisle, the end of it blurry and grey. She was aware of every sound though. Every whisper. Every footstep, trying to discern his. Her heart beat as she thought she heard it.

He'll come, she thought as the priest began to talk.

He'll come, she mouthed as the usual question was uttered.

He'll come, she whispered as the ring was put on her finger.

He'll come, she almost screamed as they left the church. Charles looked at her gently, and patted her hand.

And he... did not. She bit her lip. She did not cry. She would not.

She closed her eyes and let it pass. As she opened them again, they became cloudy and weary. She would not be able in later years to recall which person greeted her that day, nor what words were shared. She only replied numbly, letting Charles do most of the talking.

It was only when she sat in her childhood room, clad in a thin nightgown, almost alike to the one she had worn that night that she realized what had happened.

She was married. Married! And to the wrong man! And now... now...

Now was the wedding night.

Charles may be a boy, but all boys and men were the same. They would get what should be theirs by right. Promise or not.

She trembled and paced, before recovering. She was Scarlett O'Hara. She would not cry, she would not falter.

She would jump out of the window, escape in the wild, and disappear from the world.

She knew Tara like her own body, after all. Surely, she could find some hide where nobody would find her and all would mourn her presence?

"No need to come to that," Came a soft voice as she gripped on the handle of the window, her knee on the sill.

She froze and slowly faced

Charles put his sword on the bed, between their two sides and smiled kindly.

"I'm a man of my words."

She stared back, perplexed, as he crept under the bedsheets and turned to the other side, blowing the candles. She kept looking then, her nerves prickling down her skin, waiting, dreading that he might turn back, as any man would, to claim his right.

But he didn't.

And as he let out a first snore, she finally allowed herself to relax and come to her side of the bed.

Her heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes. Yet, sleep wouldn't come.

She was a little piqued.