I remember losing hope

Geralt Manchette having a busy schedule, afforded Claude the freedoms to usually do what she wanted, at least on most days. As long as she also completed whatever task that had been asked of her, for fear of igniting his ire and temper.

She hadn’t planned on telling him about the wedding of one Lucien Beauvais and Maeve Valathrian. Maeve was a nobody where Geralt was concerned, and Lucien was only minor nobility, compared to the rank of Duke and Duchess that the Manchettes had. However, upon learning of the wedding, Geralt somehow managed to get his hands on the guest list and decided that there would be some people there that Geralt wanted spied upon.

It wasn’t the life she’d imagined for herself, sure growing up as a child she knew that one day she would probably have to marry someone she didn’t love, but then there was school and meeting one Rene Louis Dumont. For a brief time in her life she truly believed she was going to get her happy ending, but oh how wrong she was.

She’d seen the guest list, she knew he might be there. Though she wasn’t sure how she felt about that, she wasn’t just there to congratulate the happy couple but to spy on another family and plant something on their persons that would be incriminating. Seeing her former lover could complicate things, but on the other hand, oh how badly she wanted to see Rene. Sure he hadn’t stopped the wedding to Geralt, but time hadn’t closed that wound and deep down her heart still beat in tune to his. She imagined it always would, until her heart stopped beating.

She wore her pink outfit, she hadn’t worn it in awhile. The miscarriage she’d had a year earlier was still a fresh wound that Geralt liked to pick at, a wound that had spread through the rumour mill like wild fire. A Duchess that couldn’t give her Duke an heir, what good was she. When she got at the place where the wedding was taking place, she showed her invitation to the men at the door and went in.

The wedding was nice, though Rene’s presence there made it hard for her to focus. All she could think about was how her wedding had gone. How she’d stood in the back and waited and waited and even caused her wedding to delay because she kept hoping that Rene would show up and whisk her away. The whisking never came, but sitting there now it felt like a fresh wound being open up. How could she not be with him, how could the world be so cruel.

Once the ceremony was done and everyone moved to the reception area, Claude initially did a round of the room, and then found herself sitting back in an out of the way corner. From there she had a good vantage of the family she was there to spy on, and for the moment her attention was on that and not Rene.

There was no escaping this day. His absence would not go unnoticed, and he and the groom had a well-established friendship and history.

Though not part of the groom’s party, Rene’s part in helping Lucian reach this point was invaluable. The two families had become close, their alignment through adversary had solidified both houses' futures, though Rene’s was still undecided until his brother produced an heir.

This was not the way he would have hoped to attend, though. On his arm, hung no-one. He came alone and while he dressed appropriately, there was still that air of books and chalk dust about him. These days he spent the majority of his time behind closed doors and shutter windows, pondering over equations that few would even have the ability to comprehend their intention.

The fact she would be there, within a hair's breadth, had anxiety spiking that he arrived with the last few guests simply so he could find exactly where she sat. The sight of the dress had paused his gait, startled by her beauty that he forgot himself and where they were. Once sat, and the ceremony on course, he could feel her eyes on him for Rene couldn’t help but spare her the same attention. His heart ached more and more with every breath taken as the Chantry service drew on and eventually closed.

Escaping to the gardens while the rest filtered into the reception, Rene attempted to collect himself. His pipe brimmed into life, lips sucking in the tobacco in an attempt to steady his nerves before returning. Picking up a glass of whisky, Rene’s hazel eyes roamed the room, his path taking him on a meandering path to her corner. Even if he had wanted to avoid her, his body refused to divert its chosen path.

He would not surprise her, it was not the setting for such a prank, nor would convention allow it. Instead, he paused a short distance from her, allowing her to reject his invitation. Yet between the plague of thoughts buzzing around and his body riddled with uncertainty, his words, greeting became jumbled. [color=#44b8ff]“You look beautifuller.” [/color]

A thousand emotions threatened to come to the surface. Of course she’d known there was a chance they might see each other, might even talk, but no matter how many times she tried to imagine all the scenarios, she still wasn’t quite prepared when Rene did make his way over to her and speak. In some ways he looked just the same he had that fateful day they’d found out that they found out Claude’s family had called off the engagement. Maybe a bit more tired, was he taking care of himself, probably not.

In her mind she was thinking, ‘it’s you, it’ll always be you’, but then her wedding flashed through her mind. She’d stayed outside the ceremony longer than she was supposed, before making her entrance as the blushing bride. Hoping above all hopes that Rene would appear and whisk her away, despite everything that was going on, that he would find SOME way to get to her, but that moment hadn’t come, so she was left with just walking down the aisle to a doomed fate with a terrible man.

She tried to compose herself, flashed a smile, taking her eyes off the family she was there to spy on for just a few moments. What did she even say to the man who still made her heart leap and flutter, even after all this time, what could she possibly say. She cleared her throat, tipped her head and smiled warmly.

Dear Rene, you are too kind. You look, tired? She wanted to ask him if he was getting enough sleep, wanted to ask him if he was taking care of himself. She worried, she would always worry and always want to take care of him. Their souls were intwined in a way that would never untangle, no matter how much time passed or how awful life was to them.

He cringed at his own words. All the intellect in the world and he struggled with the common tongue? Ridiculous. Yet it was what she did to him. She was always the variable he could never fully discover, only that its value to him was immeasurable and priceless.

Fate was a cruel mistress, though. The accusations laid at his family's feet were not easily brushed aside. Investigations were needed, proof that it was all a falsehood laid at the right feet before they could reclaim what was rightfully theirs. In the midst of this he had been sent elsewhere, as bitter penance. Only when he returned some months later that he’d understood how he’d been out-calculated.

Manchette had played the game and, with Rene’s inaction, won the prize of Ettie’s hand.

What followed had been weeks and months understanding this shadow opponent. Her safety was Rene’s concern, yet his current resources were nill to offer any intervention or rescue. With having to bide his time, depression would set in and while he maintained a careful ear to the ground, he wasn’t privy to every detail.

Her question about his appearance caused him to chuckle. His gaze shifted, nervous with what he might find in those reflecting back. His held shame, remorse. Sad, but there was always a sadness to them as he pondered the endless questions of mathematics. [color=#44b8ff]“You know my habits, Ettie. A busy mind never truly rests. Now that I’ve regained my grasp over the common tongue, how did you find the happy couple?”[/color]

Claude had imagined a very different life once upon a time, a home of warmth and love with the man she loved dearly. They’d always complimented each other so well. Her strengths complimented his weaknesses and vice versa. She had won such an unimaginable prize by being engaged to the man she loved, and that prize had been stripped unmercifully from her grasp.

She tipped her head as he spoke, not entirely listening to his words, but listening to the things he wasn’t sayin in between the lines. Did she suspect there was more to things than what he was saying, yes, but was she in the place to pursue, sadly not. She wanted to reach out a hand to stroke the side of his face, but did she dare. Could she trust that there was no one at the wedding that might see and report back to her husband. Not enough to give into her desires. So instead she simply spoke.

And you know how I feel about them, your mind is nothing without your body that drives it. And what a beautiful mind it was, his dashing looks only surpassed by the intelligence of that mind. However, what good was an intelligent mind when the body betrayed it. She stiffened slightly at the comment about the happy couple. It hadn’t been easy sitting through such a wedding, one where it wasn’t arranged and both parties were delirious about being together. She tried to push those thoughts out of her mind, but it wasn’t easy when faced with the man she had truly wished to marry.

I wonder if they know just how lucky they are. I suspect Lucien has an inkling, though his family were always kinder about matters of the heart than some families. Not that she didn’t believe they knew they were lucky in general for having found each other, but the sting of them getting to choose was a deep one. If anyone else had asked her that, she would have smiled and made some sort of typical response, but it was Rene asking that question and in the moment she found herself answering more truthfully than she would have liked, but he had that effect on her.

As spares, they were allowed certain freedoms in their youth. To study, travel and enjoy the gift of being young, foolish, but not dangerously so. Rene’s mood could dip, where coaxing him out of his study only happened when his two best friends camped out with him, the encroaching company forcing him out back into reality. Her ways were always more successful. The flow between them almost symbiotic in its dance.

The tension of her upper body caused him to take a step forward, the distance still respectful to onlookers despite his arm almost brushing against hers. Even in this corner, watching the rest of the room, Rene wasn’t sure they were entirely unobserved. He wouldn’t risk implicating her in anything that could come back to harm her on the return to Manchette. [color=#44b8ff]“Well, my mind has been heavy… mistakes and… missing variables entirely will do that.” [/color]

To dissuade his hands from reaching out, Rene took a deep sip of his drink, swapping it out with his pipe and cradling the bell. The entire ceremony had been a bitter blow, every word and gesture uttered a stab to his body while his mind replaced bride and groom with others. In a way he was grateful for her coming, the dress distracted him from succomming to complete madness. 

[color=#44b8ff]“I… believe so,” [/color]a small smile crept along his lips. [color=#44b8ff]“And Lucian’s position should only strengthen in time… hopefully. They at least have a fully reforged Dumont ally this time around.”[/color] Maker, he had missed this. Their game of hidden meanings, false and truth playing out simultaneously. [color=#44b8ff]“I’m still rather rusty… as you can tell by my colouring, social events are still not to my tastes.” [/color]

Claude’s attention was torn, and her feelings chaotic. There was a large part of her that wanted to reach out and embrace Rene, as if the last years hadn’t happened, as if Geralt might not have a spy watching her at the reception. Of course, there was another part of her, that feared her husband, that also kept an eye on the family she was there to spy on and plant something on their persons. She was sure Rene would notice she also had her attention on someone else, but Rene was her weakness and she struggled to mask her intentions around him.

As he spoke the words about his mind being heavy, she focused back on him and tipped her head every so slightly. She struggled to continue a smile, her mouth twitching, as she struggled not to frown.

Mistakes have a way of doing that, if only life’s mistakes were as easy to fix as a miscalculated math problem. She wasn’t really talking about mistakes per se, not the kind people made at least, but the kind life made when it contrived to ruin families and separate two lovers. She nodded to his remark about Lucien. It was heartening to know the Dumont family had bounced back, if only she had done so.

Speaking of bouncing back, Geralt was not at all happy about that in regards to both the Dumont family and the now growing Beauvais family. Two families hurt by that man, well perhaps he hadn’t as directly hurt the Beauvais family, but he also wasn’t blameless where the LaRues had been concerned that had taken everything from Lucien, that he had only recently gotten back. She knew Geralt was planning things, but she wasn’t privy to his plans where it concerned people she knew so well.

Remember that philosophy class we snuck into that one time, you me and Paolo? I remember the professor saying that, To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.? That Professor had quite a few things to say, it’s funny the things we remember years later. Of course, that quote wasn’t really the quote she wanted Rene to remember. No, in fact there was one about being prepared for hard times ahead that the trio had laughed and joked about. That was the quote she wished him to remember, her way of giving him a warning without actually saying the words.

He wasn’t naive. Geralt had a reputation. Not one that came with his title and position, public and open, no. He had another one known to the darker underbelly. And now he had a wife who could be used to spread his web of influence and choking control. He had smelled it the minute she began fighting with herself, just as he did.

He couldn’t help himself though, scoffing,[color=#44b8ff] “Ignoring the game entirely is not going to win me any chess matches. Now, if I had a chance of a rematch, I’d fight tooth and nail for my queen, but alas, time-magic is fickle and… unreliable.”[/color]

There was no doubt his father and brothers return had ruffled the feathers, soured the taste of victory. Geralt had done well to cover his tracks, enough that suspicion would never fall at his doorstep too far removed from anything to truly stick. No. If Rene and Lucien were to try and take down Geralt they would have to be smarter about it. Dig deeper. Yet he wasn’t wholly thinking about that currently, not with her standing so close to him, her scent mixed with the perfume he was too intimately familiar with drifting over.

Her words were not missed though, but with them came a small flash of memory. His head tilted curiously.[color=#44b8ff] “I remember another story about that professor. A closet and the third floor.”[/color] Rene waited a moment, knowing she’d understand his meaning, before dipping his upper body. His voice lowered so only she could hear, [color=#44b8ff]“Fifteen minutes, that’s how long you have to shake your shadow.”[/color] Any longer would impact what privacy they would have, neither could be away from this reception for long.

Claude was tired of playing the game, tired of it all. After the last miscarriage she wasn’t sure how she was going to go on. As badly as she didn’t want to have Geralt’s child, the miscarriages were weighing heavily on her.

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly as he talked about defending his Queen. Though she managed to keep her face more or less impassive. Perhaps she could have fought harder against it all as well, but then she’d also worried about what fighting it might have done to her family. Would a spurned Geralt have gone after them like he’s helped go after so many families over the years.

Claude was doing her best to smile only when it felt appropriate, and then not too much because she didn’t want the spy to think she was having too good of a time standing here speaking with her ex. So she made her reactions look, formal and stiff. As if it were simply her being polite for the sake of Maeve and Lucien’s wedding.

She didn’t comment on the chess subject, she knew what he meant, but she had no words with which to add any value to his remarks. She simply tipped her head. At his next words she knew all too well what he meant, but she realised if she were going to get rid of the spy that was looking after her, whomever they were, that they would perhaps need a bit of a show. She suddenly furrowed her brow at his words, a deep steadying breath.

How dare you bring that up! You know very well how I feel, as well as how I’ll never feel again about such matters. You are despicable! With that, she slapped him, as hard as possible. the slap rang out a bit even with the music that was going on. then she turned and walked away from the corner of the room where they were standing, and across the dancefloor, narrowly avoiding a couple dancing as she did so. Then started putting a plan in motion that should hopefully shake her shadow so that she could get to the meeting spot at the appointed time.

She could keep her guard a spotless state of calm, but Rene could sense the cracks underneath the polished surface. He could always tell when things began to weigh on her, a crease in her smile, a line in her speech just that second off. Too many small details for him not to notice how tired she was pretending.

The slap was a certain shock to the system. His head turned with the moment, wide-eyed and causing his drink to fly out of his hand. He dare not look at her directly, eyes finding her shoes while she yelled her cutting words. Only he felt no sting from their seemingly sharp stabs. Somewhere, an Amateur Dramatics tutor was turning in his grave. Fortunately, the sting and heat from her hand prevented a chuckle falling, but before his eyes had moved from the floor she was gone, leaving him alone in a corner with a number of guests watching with a mixture of stares and glares.

Rene played his part, awkwardly and visibly shrinking and finding an opposite route to flee the ballroom. A  bottle of wine was grabbed on the way out, hands busily attempting to uncork it while he stomped away. Weddings. They brought out all manner of drama, no? His mind turned, body twisted through passages, using other rooms as shortcuts before finding his path to their meeting place void of life.

He’d make it to the ‘closet’ first, pulling the shutters closed and rounding the small sitting room to light a few candles in lieu of the shuttered natural light. The snug was a room between rooms, perhaps in the past it had been where Lucian’s father had smoked cigars with his friends, Rene couldn’t remember. Not at the moment did he care to. It had provided a small opportunity for… things to be made clear. His unchanged feelings and desires among them.

Ditching her shadow hadn’t been easy, especially since at first she hadn’t even been sure who her shadow was out of the guests and servants that dotted the ballroom. Fortunately she apparently knew the layout better than them, so she was able to cut through rooms and passages that most guests probably didn’t even know existed.

Her heart was racing, to be in a room alone with Rene once more. To not have to watch her every word for fear of who might be watching. They probably wouldn’t have that long, but even two minutes, alone with the man she still loved, would be better than nothing at all.

When she finally got to the room in question, she paused and gave it a minute. Looking up and down the hall, just in case the shadow had returned. When she was sufficiently satisfied there was no longer a tail, she took a deep steadying breath and opened the door, entering the room.

She almost felt like she had back when they’d first realised they had feelings for one another. That sort of giddy, fresh, new love sort of feeling. Of course, this time it was also mixed with danger and sadness. As soon as her eyes laid on him, she did her best to remain composed. Then whispered two little words.

Mon coeur…. She laid her right hand over her heart, as if perhaps the pressure of her hand would stop it from racing. Rene was her heart, the words she had whispered, probably barely audible.

The bottle lay atop the table and each pass of his pacing it craved to be opened. The minutes ticked by achingly slow and when she finally made her way through the door, a double take was needed. She spoke, his grin flashed, not quite sure because of the cues of her body, the tone or her choice of words.

[color=#c10300]“L’amour de ma vie..”[/color] he replied, taking a few steps towards her, a hand outstretched with hope. Hope… that he was right, there was still that glimmer of ‘them’ even if she was wed to another and he, left behind, alone and shunned by many. Rene cared little for the politics of things, the veiled friendships built on practised smiles and backhanded deals. There were greater questions to ask, pursuits to be made than who was on top, which spoke of the wheel reigned supreme.

Yet this inaction and disdain had cost him everything he wanted and was beginning to tear apart his dear one. He hoped she’d take his hand, to pull her immediately into his arm for the deepest, tightest hold he could reasonably allow. Their shadows would remerge, too soon for them both, but that was the cost of the game. Stolen moments where masks could be lowered, lovers could embrace, the space she had filled once before and no-one could replace in his lifetime.

He’d plant a soft kiss to her forehead, relishing in the bliss of merely holding her.[color=#c10300] “We haven’t long… a  half hour maybe, but gods is that even a sin. I have so many apologies to make, ma vie.”[/color]

Claude yearned for Rene’s touch, not realising just quite how badly until that moment. How long had it been? She wasn’t even sure any more, only that it felt like she had lived many lifetimes since they’d last been together and happy. She smiled, and it was genuine, but her heart felt like it was being ripped in two. She knew this moment would end, and she would go back to being on egg shells, married too a man who would never love her like Rene did. She wasn’t even sure if Geralt was capable of such love.

She took his hand, chills running down her spine as she did so, and more chills running through her as he kissed her forehead. She could fear tears welling up, so she struggled to contain them. She didn’t want what precious moments she had with Rene to be wasted by crying herself into a puddle.

A half hour, five minutes, I’ll take anything we can get. I feel I should also apologise. I shouldn’t have married him, but if I hadn’t he would have ruined my family, and he could have easily done it too. Truth be told as much as I wished for you to whisk me away on the day of my wedding, I fear I would not have had the courage to leave with you. Not with the lives of my family at stake. Everything came down to Geralt Manchette, he had reveled in ruining all their lives. He was despicable, without an ounce of redeeming qualities.

Arms around her shifted, one firmly holding her to him as the other reached to gently cup her cheek, thumb caressing her cheek. Adoring eyes took her face in, consumed by it while her voice filled his ears. A flash of apology flitted through his gaze but it returned to it’s previous state of awe. She truly was the most perfect creature to him, his true companion, investigating the mysteries of life with him.

And Manchette ruined it, yet their fire was never completely smothered.

[color=#c10300]“It only makes me love you all the more Ettie. I had to do the same. Our weakness was not accounting for his depravity at all. We were both fooled, both made to suffer, but you most of all.” [/color]His eyes hardened, a rare anger pushed forth. [color=#c10300]“He uses you, like a pawn, or a brood mare not as an equal. I cannot bear it, I will not.”[/color] Yet he was not a man of the Game, not entirely.

Mica. Mica could help me, the idle thought echoed in his mind. His arm tightened around her waist, shifting them around so he could seat her on the tables edge. Rene pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling her scent.[color=#c10300] “We are not helpless, ma vie. Let me kiss you, promise you, that I will have you by my side.” [/color]

Rene’s touch, his closeness, enveloping her both mind, body and soul. It felt like cool salve being laid upon a burn. She had been miserable for so long, she could barely remember the last time her and Rene had been this close, had touched, had kissed. Distant memories flooded back as she stood there in his arms. It pushed all the darkness of Geralt away from her soul, and for the first time in a long time she felt something she’d nearly forgotten even existed, hope.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted…. She said as she leaned up to kiss him. It was like fireworks going off, reminding her she was in fact actually alive. She had felt dead for so long, especially considering the miscarriages. She was doing all she could to hold back a flood of tears. Geralt only kissed her when he wanted to be spiteful, he didn’t even kiss when he took her. He wanted an heir but thus far she’d been unable to give him that.

I’m not sure how much longer I can…… Outsmarting Geralt wouldn’t be easy, and the way she acted at the moment made it clear there was a lot that she wasn’t saying. Something that Rene would most assuredly pick up on. Everything was weighing on her, not just how Geralt was with her, or the miscarriages, but the things that Geralt made her do for him, some that went well beyond simple spying.