"You don't need princes to save you. I don't have a lot of patience for stories in which women are rescued by men." --- Neil Gaiman, The Sleeper And The Spindle

13 novembre 1803
Roma, Italie

Dearest Journal-Friend,

I often write my secrets in these envelopes, slid in between the pages of my journal. They all look the same, crimson red parchment thicker than average, folded into an envelope and sealed with a wax seal. It is a black rose, something that has come to be my personal insignia.

In these envelopes, I write things I wish to tuck away. It is not for my safety. I know that if anyone ever found and read my journal, I should be imprisoned and killed. During my short life, I have committed crimes and had crimes committed against me. I have killed, and I have died.

I am but a small girl who was meant to live in a beautiful palace with an old but agreeable husband and play cards and have dresses made to show off my figure most scandalously. The worst I ever imagined doing to anyone was disappointing my father, earning the disfavour of the King, or perhaps taking a lover out of fun and curiosity.

Only a decade since my people began to be murdered, and those responsible then were murdered by others, and a vicious cycle began that led us to a short little man who not only wants France and Italy and the Holy Church itself. He wishes to take the aristocracy of Europe, our lands, our memories, our traditions, and make it as if we are a relic of something outdated. He wishes to erase my childhood, my Maman and Papa, just as he wishes to do to Madame Royale and le Comte d'Artois and those who survive. We are not many, but we are strong and proud.

Not so many of us survive still. Those who do, we are in exile throughout the continent, finding refuge in the strangest of places.

Only a decade has passed since la Reine, the woman I admired only second to my own Maman, was taken from this world. I have lost everything and yet I live in comfort and peace and my greatest fear is a trivial one. I fear my husband's affair with Madame de Roussel will leave me unloved, cast aside, and neglected.

Antonio hoped I should grow to love him, but I cannot love a man who openly loves other women just as much and does not have the dignity to deny it. Lucretia tells me not to be foolish, that this is how men are and always have been, from the many Rois of the past to the peasant men selling produce. It is how her father was, and how my father was, and the only reason women behave any differently---if they do at all--- is because of the children. 

Everyone says what I was made to believe about the world is a lie, a guide for how humans ought to behave. The reality is very different and always has been. I never knew the French culture was open and even embraced debauchery and deceit and all manner of things I should blush to write, until the Roi and Reine came to power. Like me, they were very young and did not understand much of the world they were told was theirs. It took years before la Reine gave birth to a Dauphin, but this was not her fault.

We do not know the world until it is explained to us, at least the secret parts.

Both Lucretia and Antonio tell me jealousy is a small and belittling emotion and ask why do  I not embrace my own freedom. I do not think I even know how. When you are not born with freedom and not permitted to live with it, freedom is an overwhelming and sometimes foreign concept. I fight for it so hard people end up dead and then I've no idea what to do with my newfound independence

Since Antonio shows no remorse or shame for whatever he does with Madame de Roussel and claims it is necessary for immortals to live in communities and not pairs of two never separated, I decided I should do as they advised and take a lover of my own.

I do not know whether it was his choice, my husband's suggestion, or simply out of a sense of revenge, but it was the Duc Orlando who asked me to supper in his chambers last night. The note was charming and so was the bracelet that accompanied the sweet words, a golden thing made in the shape of roses and vines, decorated with small rubies.

I do know that when men send words of flattery with expensive trinkets, having supper in his private chambers means something else entirely. He must know I still cannot stand the taste of food. I never did love it much, but since the change, it has become repugnant.

When I saw the note, the first thought in my mind was that he must know I am like his brother, and does not mind. I thought perhaps he even found it alluring.

I sent a note back, agreeing to the meeting, wondering why a man with a beautiful French wife should want another, especially one who appears like a child in comparison.

Madame de Roussel is voluptuous without being fat, charming without being vain, worldly without seeming low-brow. To tell the truth, I do understand why all men seem to desire her. I am not only jealous that she has captured my husband's attention, but that she lives as she chooses. She has little regard for convention, even going so far as to say convention and prudishness is what got us into this mess, the aristocracy of France and Spain, the religious families of Italy, the old-fashioned morality of La Reine's Austrian upbringing.

She is telling my husband there are other ways to live and now, I know she is showing him this. I can only imagine the look on her face when she discovered he had already found another way to live, and it is not what she meant at all.

Duc Orlando is a charming man, one who blushes when he is forward and stutters over his own sentences. He is nothing at all like his brother and I can see why, were he allowed to choose, he would not have chosen the very liberal French wife he has. When I thanked him for the gift, he kissed my hand gently and said I should always wear gold and diamonds and settle for nothing less. He also remarked on my hands being cold and how he intended to send me a pretty pair of gloves so I did not freeze going to the opera in the winter.

He must know I am like his brother, yet the topic did not come up. He asked me in a very straightforward manner if I had ever taken a lover before, just for my own amusement. There was a light in his eye when I said no, as if he had acquired some valuable object. I laughed and asked what was so pleasing about that. He said, "It is very hard to please a woman who has already done everything." I sat on his lap and sipped my cognac as he talked about his wife and how she'd lived as an artist's model in Paris before it was discovered she was from a line that went all the way back to the days of Madame Pompadour.

The world was fascinated by her scandal and her talk of modern things and equality, but at the same time shocked. Orlando told me he understood that, and wasn't certain how to respond. He said he often felt the presence of demons and endless corruption everywhere, and didn't think he should live to see the day when order and proper decorum was part of the country once again.

It seems that Madame de Roussel has a particular disliking for the Catholic Church, something to do with it destroying her family. It is quite the irony that it is the one place that sought her out and offered her sanctuary. She needn't even be pious, she only has to pretend like the rest of us. Orlando said it infuriated him that she behaved as if doing so were asking a great sacrifice.

He is fond of me simply because the powers that be married him to a former whore, no matter how close to the Royal Family she is. In contrast, he thinks me a lady, but I murmured to him that he should not try to woo me because a lady would never take her husband's brother as a lover.

Orlando laughed, and responded that many grand ladies, even rulers of countries, did much worse. The difference is that those with propriety behave discretely, and his wife certainly does not. He fears she is coaxing my husband into behaving in shocking and indecent ways just to cause scandal, because she enjoys the attention. I do not disagree, but he has more to lose. He is not a human, no matter how impeccably he masquerades as one. If he is found out, he endangers us both. 

I liked the way Orlando gave me a reassuring smile and told me it would be alright, although we both agreed his scandalous new wife must be managed somehow. I shall figure out something. I am good at dealing with problems. I think it something I learned from Maman, how to remain calm and practical. I was surprised when at the end of the evening, he let me go with nothing more than a kiss and a few tender touches of affection. He was not displeased, though, and asked if he might see me again soon. My eyes must have looked surprised, but he said, "You are a lady, Eleonore. Your body is lovely, but your heart and soul are worth so much more. I desire them all, in due time."

There is nothing so scandalous about this that it is worthy of a red envelope, but as I was leaving his chambers to return to mine, the hand of the Cardinale grabbed me by the arm and guided me to his office. 

There was this feeling of being frozen in fear, but I quickly explained how nothing improper had occurred and I had only had dinner with my husband's brother.

He smiled, and said, "Calm yourself, Signora, I mean no harm to you. In fact, you may be infinitely useful. You are a delightfully charming creature. I hope that does not lead you down the road to sin."

For a moment, I almost expected him to pull me onto his lap himself, a thought which now makes me giggle. Instead, he spoke to me about spending more time with the Duc Orlando and learning about his wife as well. "The thing that will bring down our cause quickly, my dear, are traitors. We have those who pretend to be exiled Royalists and honourable Catholics but are in truth, neither. In fact, there may be spies who use their charms to feed information to the unholy regime. We would like you to use your own charms to our advantage, Signorina."

This is the first time I have ever been hired to be a spy, my beloved Journal-Friend. I have this suspicion it is something I might be good at being, for I am by nature friendly but always private about myself and my business. Maman would not have me be any other way. She made sure I was brought up knowing about politics and diplomacy as if I were a boy, but gave me lessons in etiquette and charm much like all girls my age were given. Did she do that because she saw this in me, a small seed of something dark that would feed my ambition?

A better person should have refused. There are times it is not in someone's best interests to be the better person. I am starting to think this is one of the things my Maman knew and understood well. Perhaps it is why people feared her.

I like the Duc Orlando and he finds me appealing. If the Cardinale wants to know what I learn about him and the Madame de Roussel, I see no harm.  Women here do not have their own fortunes. As is the way everywhere, what belongs to a woman belongs to her husband.

When the Cardinale asked what I wanted for my loyalty, I replied I offered loyalty because it was right to do so. It was then I thought to ask for my own money and property to be signed over to me. "It is not much, but it is all that is left of my family." I explained this well, and it sounded fair and harmless.

Men do not know what Lucretia taught me, that a woman could secretly become the wealthiest person on the planet. The trick is to make one's fortune into jewels, things that can always be claimed for sentiment or as merely ornamental. Between that and the money stashed away from what I could bear to part with from Versailles, I should want for nothing if things go wrong.

I wonder why the Cardinale should want to know things about Orlando. He is a sweet man. If anything, it's my own husband who is the unfortunately malleable one. Not all who have royal blood are loyal to the idea of putting the House Of Bourbon back on the French throne. I hope Madame de Roussel has not become the one drop of discord that poisons the well.

I am not sure why, but it pleased me that Orlando he used my true name, not the Italian pronunciation. When someone does not call me Eleni, I worry I am not liked, but coming from him it felt like home.

There is the possibility he might be trying to manipulate me to help me solve the issue with Madame de Roussel. Though,  even if he were, the most I can do is speak with Antonio about keeping us out of the public eye and remembering the masquerade comes first. Without it, the Pope himself will have us all burned.

I left feeling young and giddy, as I did back in my days at Court when a young man would compliment me and make me feel special. Perhaps that is all he wanted to make me feel, to remind me I am not so old and my life is hardly over. In fact, it is just beginning. 

My youth may have been rudely interrupted and starting over in exile and in hiding is a challenge, and a husband is no secret to my happiness, I am learning. Yet, I have freedom and once I learn exactly what that means for me, I think I shall be very happy indeed.

I am not beloved as you are, my loyal Journal-Friend, and yet I am happy.

Your always loving and shockingly independent,

Eleni

November 20th, 2015
Aubrey Parish, Louisiana

Marius notices that whatever might be going on at any given time in Aubrey Parish, it's easy to find a place that's cloaked in secrecy. While Emmaline takes off all the time, heading to explore the forests and the secrecy, Marius finds comfort in the hotel. Kayla adjusted the rooms so now he sleeps in the overly feminine and large purple room, the one with a door that locks, a fireplace, and a ladder leading up to one of the large windows.

Marius enjoys the sounds of the city, enjoys sleeping in the bed that once belonged to her. Sometimes, he lies on the bed listening to the sounds of the Parish, and something wafts through the window to remind him of her. He may have hurt her by not being the kind of man to make decisions controlled by lust and impetuousness, but he certainly feels those things. She is temptation personified, and she haunts him. It brings him more joy than anything else in his world at the moment. Nights grow long and lonely and he finds himself crying her name in need, as if she can hear him.

He always does, even remembering her face in exquisite detail when her name is mentioned. It offends Emmaline. It insults her and breaks her heart, but he can't help the way he feels or the way his body reacts. I am not a cruel man, Marius mumbles to himself. It sometimes seems that way, even to his own eyes, but he has always tried to do what was right.

It is not his fault he does not love Emmaline the way the young girl would force him to if she had such powers, and it is not his fault he never loved Emma's mother. He paid the price for his selfishness, a lifetime on his own. He lived an entire lifetime waiting for a bride he knew wasn't made for him.

It comforts him to think the match didn't take, not because he did not honour the traditions of his people, but because Emmaline was his daughter. No goddess could be that depraved, even if things were done that way centuries ago. The only explanation is that the truth was well-hidden. Emmaline was destined to rule, just like her mother before her. Emma's mother chose a different path, lived as a rogue and embraced destruction to avoid responsibility. Marius wonders if he's done the same.

Emmaline did nothing wrong. She stepped into her mother's shoes, as was expected of her. Even if a blood test said she and Marius were not related, he would not suddenly want her or his culture back. He was made with an ability to lead men, not wolves. Marius was no Alpha, no matter what Emmaline wanted to mold him into. An Alpha would not be scared to death of a woman barely over one hundred pounds. An Alpha would not torment himself over how to make things right with Emmaline and Eleni both.

The caution with which Marius lived his life made it obvious he was no Alpha, yet he would not be ordered around by those who thought they had a right to determine his future.

He'd planned to find Eleni at Mudbugs, to bring flowers, to make an elaborate gesture to show her how sorry he was for hurting her. He would explain everything if he had to, he didn't care. Eleni's forgiveness, her friendship, and her affection meant the world to him.

Marius tried, and he lost his nerve, and he resolved to try again. He felt Emmaline's anger, cold and threatening, and it pulled him back every time. When they were given to one another, they were united by a mental link, one that had always made him restrained. He'd lived as a bachelor for almost seventeen years to avoid causing Emmaline pain and trauma. It would hurt them both, but if he chose someone else, the link would break. The thing that made her look at him though wronged and obsessed eyes would disappear, and she'd see him as he was. The link had become one-sided since Eleni.

He knew Eleni had powers he couldn't understand when he no longer heard Emmaline's voice, when his words were bold enough to invite Eleni to his room. She'd broken the link, but never shown up.

It was almost as if she knew, and that's when Marius grew suspicious of Eleni. He spent much of his time trying to determine how suspicious Eleni was of him.

The fact the link had broken for him but not for Emmaline was almost perfect in the timing of her arrival. He wondered---well, Marius wondered a lot of things, but he was in no position to ask questions or demand answers. It was almost in punishment that Emmaline stripped him of his ability to say no, to stand up to her. Emmaline did not have the power Eleni did, but she was strong and proud in her own right.

His hand trembles as he decides it's been a while. It's been long enough, and even though it's 11:30 in the evening, he pulls out his phone to give Eleni a call. He has something he needs to chat about with her, and more than that, he is anxious to hear the sound of her voice again. He imagines her in her bed, and his body shivers, before a white flash of lightning zaps at his mind. 

No, it tells him. Focus.

A feeling akin to something where love, nervousness, and arousal meet as he hears the strong but lilting voice, with its light accent behind the words. Marius pictures Eleni as she picks up the phone with a little smile and says, "Hello?"

The image is erased quickly, a blinding and searing hot light poking at his brain instead.

Fighting the pain, he still smiles when he hears Eleni answer the phone. It could be heard in his cheerful tone, which is the epitome of what he wishes he could feel. The fact that none of it is real is like a knife poking his heart.

The days when this kind of frivolity were possible were some of his happiest. He hopes Eleni knows how much good she had done for a man who'd never felt completely happy in his lifetime.  "Oh good! You're not pretending to not be there today?" He imagines the way her eyes dance as he teases, knowing full well the number of times Eleni's phone didn't pick up for his call. "How are you doing? It's Marius, by the way. I mean, in case caller ID didn't pick my number up or something."

Marius is acutely aware of sounding like a teenage boy with a crush who forgets how words are supposed to operate when she's around. His cheeks turn light pink, but he is overjoyed by how she responds to his cheerful and familiar voice. Maybe she can't help it, he grins broadly, his mind strutting around.

This time, when the white hot light zaps him, it barely registers. The beauty of her voice brings tears to his eyes. It should not have to end like this.  "Ah, no, I do quite remember you! You're wrong, though, I do not pretend to not be here. I get terrible service by the water." He can hear that her voice is hushed, the tone as if there is someone nearby. The jealous part of the Navy man wants to ask her who is there and why someone else was with her instead of him.

He can't, though. He is the one who pulled away. "I have been quite well." Eleni's voice murmurs at the phone, the formality hiding any touch of emotion. "How have you been, Marius? Our paths have not crossed in some time. I sometimes miss those very simple days of passing each other in a hotel lobby. I didn't think moving a few blocks would mean losing your friendship and company."

Marius chuckles. but there is only awkward silence as he considers how best to say what he needs to say. The thought of the words tears at his heart and leaves him breathless. This is what's right for her, he tries to convince himself. There is no way not to hurt her.

His body trembles against the bed, tears springing to his eyes. The facade of the gentlemanly officer who always does the right thing is gone now. When he speaks, he sounds like the barefoot country boy by the river who'd never even know someone like Eleni. "Yeah, about that. Eleni, it's why I wanted to call ya. I realised I've kind of been avoiding you since we last talked and that's not really all that fair to you. I know I probably hurt you and I'm real sorry for that. You have to know I'd never want to hurt you."

Her voice sounds a lot like a blade being sharpened. "That's very nice, Marius. However, for someone who doesn't wish to hurt me, you're remarkably good at it." He works to hold back the tears. Marius has an idea of what Eleni is, and prepared himself for virtually any reaction. He realises he hadn't, because the coldness in her voice cuts through him.

"I just wanted to say nothing was yer fault. It's not like you know what happened that night or nothing or why I didn't see you the next day. I imagine you waiting for me never passin' by and Eleni, it breaks my heart. That's kind of why I'm calling now." Marius was not making much progress with saying what he wanted to say and Eleni's cold, empty silence on the other end of the phone is not encouraging.

Marius gathers his courage and continues, stumbling over words. "I ...uh... well." He clears his throat. "I got to thinking about how things have been going with us. I know I haven't been right to ya, Eleni, not since the start. I wanted to apologise for acting like a horny sailor on leave around ya sometimes." Marius fidgets, his toes moving around in his sock.

"I guess I acted like that mosta the time, and it's not me. I feel kinda ashamed. Ya deserve something better than that and I know if things were different I'd give ya the kind of life meant for classy ladies like you. It all changed, Eleni, but not cause of you. You see, I got a kid, and...well, that's the simple answer for what happened."

Marius closes his eyes, feeling his head and heart hammering in unison. "I'm don't think I can take this thing any further with ya, Eleni, and that's why I haven't come round. Least not right now. I got my shop and my daughter to think of and well... I guess that's why I haven't come by sooner. I didn't think it'd be right to do that to you. I don't want ya to think bout me as someone you regret meetin'. My heart's been broken as it is."

It isn't the first time Marius has had to tell a woman no. It's the hardest, because he doesn't want to. It's harder knowing Eleni will hate him, but she'll hate herself more. He sounded like a bumbling idiot, but he wasn't. He'd done his research, talked to Caimbria at the Occult Shoppe. "La Morte Enchantee, that's how the legends go." The woman had spoken crisply in her maternal Haitian-style French. "Boy, you'd best avoid those kind. Land sirens, they are, stealin' your heart and body. One day, you plain disappear and she's moved on."

Marius didn't believe that about Eleni, but it fit together. He'd never met anyone so charming and hard to resist in his life. Even now, part of him would rather die than have this conversation.

There is only the sound of silence as Eleni listens to Marius go on and on. She pauses a moment, and replies, her tone emotionless and flat, "I am a bit confused about you, I suppose. Are you trying to tell me you find me uninteresting or unattractive, suddenly? Are you apologising because you think I believed you cared for me when all you wanted was sex? I'll let you in on a secret, Marius. All most men want from me is sex. I haven't been naive enough to think one cared in a long time."

Marius laughs softly but without joy. It kills him to let her think he was like every other man in the world. It was also the easiest for her to understand and accept. "No, hon, that would be a flat lie. I find ya pretty interesting and attractive alright, but I've got to be a bit more responsible these days. It's a small town and I just know news of her dad getting around would really upset my kid. I've never been that kinda man, Eleni. When I invite a woman home I end up wantin' ta marry her. I can't keep it casual like you. I hope you understand. I just can't be doing that kind of thing now with my kid in town. I'd like to stay in touch and keep being friends and all."

Eleni says little in response to this, and her indifference tears at him. When she finally speaks, her voice is not the Eleni he knows. She is devoid of warmth or passion or anything at all. "I am sorry to hear of your desires for the future, but as you wish. I have never been one to pursue anything that is not wanted. For the record, Marius, you are not the noble knight on a white horse you believe yourself to be. You are unmarried and have a child, which means you were "that kind of man" at least once."

Marius can hear Eleni's head shaking. He can see the look of anger and disgust in her eyes and he has never felt less worthy of his existence than he does in this moment. "You simply couldn't admit you didn't want me so you took off. You're also wrong to assume I'd have treated you like a lady having a secret affair with the stable boy. I could have cared for you. Truth be known, I did. Fortunately, emotions are fleeting things. Is that all, Marius?"

He is afraid that if he hangs up the phone, he'll never hear her voice again. Marius couldn't help but hate himself for her the pain he'd caused her and Emmaline and everyone. He didn't want it to be true, but it is for the best that he keeps a distance. He would rather see her alive and despising him than having to see her head underneath a tree somewhere. This conversation would save her life. It is possibly too late for him, but he loves her. She doesn't need to get dragged into his family drama.

If you love something, set it free. His own voice plays over and over in his head.

As much as Eleni doesn't sound like Eleni anymore, Marius is stung by the way he sounds like a young man he hasn't been in many years. "Hey, Eleni. Please don't hate me or nothin'. I'm sorry 'bout all this. I know it sucks. I ain't too happy 'bout it either. Don't think I'm over here doing cartwheels or nothing. I hope I can make it up to ya as a friend though. Maybe dinner on me or something?"

Marius cringes as she suddenly sounds even more cold and distant. She gives the clear impression she has removed any attachment to the situation from her world. "Oh, I have no idea what you think, mon petit cheri. I suppose I really never will. I obviously mistook your interest for something other than it was. I do apologise for such. I am fortunate, Marius, in that I have little need for friends and the means to buy my own dinner."

He is losing the battle to keep tears from falling. He knows that he'd just burned a bridge, and it was the bridge that led him to the one person in the Parish who made him care too much. A part of him hoped that being honest and upfront before things got too far might let them stay friends. In reality, he didn't know if he could handle being friends with Eleni. He only knew that when her voice disappeared, his heart would break. After this, he would never be the same.

"Women like that, they love and hate strong an' in the same way. They ain't got it figured out that passion ain't bad. It just be that too much destroys 'em. "  Marius hears Caimbria's voice, the warning bell it carries. It makes him feel some relief that Eleni wouldn't be so cold if she didn't have feelings for him.

His voice stumbles, uncertain how to continue, but wanting her to keep talking. "Right. I guess I knew that. Maybe let me know if you want to meet for coffee sometime..." He trails off, the disappointment in his voice clear. He wasn't trying to sever contact but just stepping back to a more comfortable space. In his mind, there was a space where he could figure out how to keep everyone safe and happy and he could still see Eleni's smile every now and then. Maybe he just didn't communicate that very well. There wasn't really a rewind button for life. "Take care, Miss Eleni." he said, wishing instead he could tell her how much she meant to him and how empty his life would be without her. He can't, so if there was nothing else he'd disconnect the call.

The little sigh in Eleni's melodic, detached tone is the only crack in her armour. It is the first indication of feeling, and it lights up his heart with hope. It does not matter that her words are spoken with a painful formality. "We could perhaps meet for coffee sometime, yes. I know we're both quite busy, but it would be pleasant. Perhaps now you might stop avoiding me."

There is a pause, and Eleni sighs again. It is evident to him that she is hurt. Still speaking in a hushed tone, she replies, "I am sorry I gave you the wrong impression. You are suddenly uncomfortable being around me and need to care less for me when I did not even know you cared too much to begin with."

Her voice is a silent pause, almost invisible. "I have never had anyone...tell me such a thing before. I am not quite sure how to process that. I know it isn't a happy feeling. It is more like---betrayal.  Anyhow, I'm certain we'll see one another around".  Her words have a finality in them, and Marius feels about five years old, not wanting to be left alone.

Marius is happy she can't see him at the moment. She'd see through him, and feel the tightness in his chest that makes it hard to breathe. He struggles, though, determined to make the conversation as casual as possible. It's not like we were planning happily ever after, he tells himself. We didn't even sleep together or go on a proper date. How is this so intense?

Marius clears his throat nervously. "Just so you know, Eleni, if it were my choice... I'd choose very differently." The blinding flash of light hits his brain and his head hurts too much to do this anymore, but he can't stop listening to her voice. "If it weren't for my kid and mistakes I made in my past, this call would have been to ask if I could come over. I don't come over to visit women just for that, Eleni. It's because I care. I think you're a beautiful woman, and I really enjoy your charm and wit." He stops, not wanting to flatter her, but to be as honest as possible under the circumstances.

"Eleni---don't think I don't wish I were the kind of man who could just hang out with you and have some fun together. I'm not that, though, and that sucks. I'm not in a place right now I can do anything more, either, and that sucks worse. I didn't think it right to lead you on, thinking this between us could turn into more. And that ain't because I wouldn't love for it to. Maybe you could handle just a friend with benefits. I can't, though, and ain't for lack of wishin'." He sighed heavily, "I still haven't figured out how to be a normal guy without the Navy, Eleni. Sometimes I think I gotta go back, 'cause it's the only place right for me."

Eleni's voice almost softens, because this time when she lets out her little sigh, he hears sadness. "It is a pity, then, that you chose this call for other purposes. But we all do what we must, yes? You've done nothing to lead me on. You made no promises. I was never certain you'd come by or if I should let you in if you did. I did rather think we were on the same page, with the flirting and the interest and all that hardly matters now. It turns out, we were not. I can only blame myself for assuming anything I should not have."

The artfully-created facade moves away from Eleni's voice. Marius feels his own heart ache, knowing her face is as beautiful as always, even showing sadness and vulnerability. He wants to hold her and to remind her it will be alright, but he doesn't know that himself. Her almost-whisper continues. "I suppose it is what I liked about you, that you seemed different somehow, more thoughtful. I liked how maybe you saw more in me than a fun romp in the hay or a pretty face to take to a party. I should not wish to disturb that part of you that is good and decent. You know where and how to reach me if you ever wish to talk or have coffee together." Beyond the formal and almost cold words that indicate she already views him in the past tense, Marius knows Eleni is struggling to be kind.

It's because she loves me, too. Her kindness is the most painful weapon yet, and Marius doesn't want to think anymore.

Marius ponders her response for a moment and then says, "We were...a lot more, Eleni. I don't know how or why, but.." He trails off, realising he makes little sense. "I mean, you didn't misread my interest. Honestly, I'm still interested but I was taught to put my family first. That's what I have to do here. I'm sorry that means we can't see how far this would go. You have no idea how sorry, Eleni."

He is starting to feel like a cliched break-up scene in a movie, drawing out the unnecessary just to keep her talking. Marius knows it might be the last time he'll hear her voice, and he doesn't want it to end. "Who knows what will happen in the future? I called for this chat because I didn't want to lose our friendship in the meantime. Don't take it to mean anything more than that cause it don't. It ain't some kind of rejection. I'll be calling soon for coffee, if you'll let me?"

Eleni's voice chuckles lightly, and replies without affect, "Apologies are hardly necessary. Some things are not meant to be explored. Some interests are simply that. Not every man and woman who like one another are a love affair for the ages, so this too shall pass."  Her voice pauses, and he notes how silent it is when she does. Most people, he can hear the sound of movement or breathing into the phone. Eleni is simply there one moment and gone the next.

"I hope you take care of yourself. Indeed, we shall keep in touch. Au revoir et je t'aime, cheri."  The sudden click of the phone means Eleni is gone. He doesn't speak French, and has little idea what her last words were, but his heart begins stabbing itself inside his chest. He lies perfectly still, aware of how dizzy and broken he feels.

"Are you happy now? I have to go. I feel like I'm having a heart attack." His vision is blurred, and he doesn't know if it's the tears or something terrible happening to him.

Emmaline shakes her head, taking the phone from his hand and throwing it on the bed. "I'm not happy, but it's a decent start. You've got to stop telling people I'm your kid, though. Otherwise, it's fucking creepy when we have our wedding." Emma's smile is cold as she looks down at Marius, who is handcuffed to the bed with his feet tied together in the room that once was Eleni's.

Marius tries to avoid her gaze. It is a reminder that she can control him, taunt him. "You don't think this is a fucking picnic for me, do you? We're bonded. I still feel you. How do you think I feel, knowing how much you're suffering because you love someone else when I lived my whole life building my world around you? When you hurt, I hurt. It fucking sucks because you'd never hurt this way for me. Not yet, anyway." 

He closes his eyes, still trying to cling to the loving sounds of Eleni's voice. "What did she say, before she hung up?"

Emmaline's laughter rings against his ears, cold and taunting. "Are you sure you really want to know? Sometimes it's better to forget."

Marius keeps feeling his heart pounding, his breath like gasps. "Emma, please. She didn't deserve that, the way I just hurt her. If you feel what I'm feeling, you know I feel like I'm going to die. My heart, Emma. It's literally killing me." The room spins around and around. "I at least deserve to know if she hates me."

Emma's response is a girlish giggle. She sits on the bed, near him. "It's funny how men in handcuffs are strangely exciting. I mean, I'm not Eleni. I don't know the first thing about what to do with that stuff. I see why she's into it though." 

Marius tries to reach for water, his chest growing tighter when the cuffs push into his wrists. "Emma. If you can feel what I feel, you know I need help. Call 911. Please, Emma, I need help. I need to know what she said."

Emmaline looks deeply into Marius' eyes, and her cold face gives him a smile. "Most people say "literally" when they don't mean it. In your case, though, you used it correctly. You are literally dying of a broken heart. How poetic is that? The perfect demise for the sort of man who'd throw over an innocent girl who'd waited her whole life for him for a vampire who'd kill him one day. Better me than her, right?"

Marius struggles in earnest, unable to lift his head, but screaming for help towards the open window. Eleni always kept it that way so he did too. Emma's hand eventually clamps over his mouth. "I'm sure you know that our people hate silver about as much as vampires hate being set on fire."

He tries to watch as her hands move in the air in front of him. There are so many, but they all have pristine white driving gloves. "The handcuffs.." He gasps, feeling only the sound of his own heartbeat. "I did what you wanted. Eleni. Emmaline. I was a good person.."

Marius can't keep thoughts in his head anymore, just occasionally screaming to anyone to come save him. His voice is weaker than she knows. "Yes, Marius. Father. Whatever I should call my soon dearly departed Judas, it's silver poisoning from a pair of handcuffs. It's an unusual and slow way to die, I'll admit, but hard to trace."

He doesn't respond. Emmaline says, completely devoid of emotion. "Yes. You did what I asked. The last memory she'll have of you is knowing you didn't really love her. She and I will have something in common." She shakes her head, almost looking sad. "I'll keep my promise. I won't harm her. When she meets her demise, it will be her own making."

Marius mumbles something as Emmaline laughs, almost bitterly, removing the handcuffs from the barely conscious man. Even with his last gasps for breath, he's still trying to ask what Eleni said before hanging up.

He can see the fury in Emma's face. "The last thing she said was 'Goodbye, and I love you'. For a killer, she's strangely emotional. She probably would have made the better wife, but she'd also have killed you. You made the right choice."

"Eleni..." His lips make the syllables, knowing the only thing he can do is make sure Emmaline feels every bit of his suffering.

All five versions of her blurred face seem to feel nothing. "I let you say goodbye to the only person left for you to love. That is more kindness than you've ever shown me."

The last thing he feels is being untied, and the blurred figure of Emmaline jumping out of the window. Unable to see, breathe, or feel anything but his own heartbeat, he tries to reach for the phone. After pulling the blanket toward him, he presses the screen, redialing the last number.

His mind fills with prayers for Eleni to pick up, the gasping becoming weaker and weaker. She does not answer, but he notices she has managed to change her voicemail. He hears the melodic, lilting voice in a cold and angry state.

"You have reached the voicemail of Eleni, who thinks Marius can suck it. She is currently learning the emotion known as "rejection" and does not accept the existence of said emotion in her world."

A little smile forms on his lips. No matter what happens, nothing can ever break her spirit. He is glad even he couldn't do that. 

"Eleni, I'm sorry. Please please help me. In your hotel. Need you. If you can't find me in time, just know I love you too. Always did. Never stopped."

Marius never hangs up. He still won't let go of her voice, not ever.

His breathing slows to a non-existent crawl and eventually his body stops moving.

Eleni is there beside him as he fades far from the world of Aubrey Parish, and at long last, he is happy.