𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄.
chapter fifty- five; The Duke Of Bourbon
" I, too, think I will be a terrible Duchess. . . But who would I be if I did not at least try? "

  THE FESTIVITIES HAD begun indoors as well. Elspeth had never before attended a coronation, so her awe was evident as they wandered the castle, every corner decorated, each square inch covered in nobles and royals from all around Europe.

  "Nearly every titled man we've passed has glared at either me or you," Elspeth spoke quietly, attempting to keep her smile even, "Have you really denied every one of their daughters and sisters?"

  Demetre glanced lazily around, spotting sparse French noblemen doing exactly as Elspeth had said.

  "Probably," He sighed, "And each one is only angry because they wished to be a part of House Langlois. Because they cared for a title, favor with the king, riches, glory. . ."

  Demetre glanced at Elspeth as they approached the doorway to the throne room.

  "I intended for House Langlois to end with me. To become nothing but a fable, long after I am in the ground. . . But perhaps a better future is ahead for it. A future where House Langlois is known for its kindness. For art and poetry. Where it is known for the members that have joined and built it better, instead of the blood-stained history it has always held."

  She looked up at him and smiled so tenderly, that Demetre felt his heart sputter at the sight.

  Elspeth Liens was the past, present, and future. She was France and Scotland. Both the canvases she painted and the swords she wielded. She was everything he had ever dreamed of and hardly believed existed.

  She was everything to Demetre Langlois. They would soon watch his childhood friend be crowned King, and rule the land they were born into, but Demetre knew the only crown that mattered was Elspeth, for she had been the ruler of his heart since the day he set eyes on her.

  So he lifted a hand and rested it on her own, leading the woman through the crowd and into that grandiose room. They took their places in the audience, closer than any two unmarried people should be, and watched as a small parade of people entered, lead only by Francis and Mary.

  Francis approached the throne first, becoming bestowed with the holdings of a king, before a crown was placed gently on his bed of curls. He stood slowly, before taking a seat on the largest throne that had, mere weeks ago, belonged to his father.

  "Long live the king!"

  Mary approached next, kneeling at the steps before a matching crown was placed atop her head.

  She took the throne beside Francis just as the church bell tolled.

  "Long live the queen!"

  Applause scattered as flower petals were released, raining down on the King and Queen of France and their subjects.

↬

  It was the following morning when Demetre finally caught Francis on his own.

  "Ah, my most trusted advisor."

  "We can speak on your diplomacy and claiming of Lola's child later, if you so wish," Demetre said, Francis wincing as he did, "I came to you on a private matter, Francis."

  The man furrowed his brows, waving off the guards that surrounded him.

  "What is it?" He asked though he didn't give Demetre the chance to respond, "I've been thinking of you, don't worry, I intend to bestow a higher title-- I know you denied everyone my father offered but. . .  this one comes without strings, Demetre. I was thinking Duke of Bourbon, yes?"

  Demetre's mouth opened and closed three times.

  "I know it's a lot to take in-- think on it?"

  "I will consider it," Demetre breathed, "I'll give you an answer within the day."

  "You deserve it," Francis said earnestly, clapping a hand on the man's shoulder, "Now, I believe my mother has already started with preparing for the christening so--"

  "Go," Demetre breathed out a laugh, "The one thing I will not advise on is your relationships with the women closest to you."

  Francis rolled his eyes, patting the man's shoulder in passing.

  Demetre blew out a long breath, shaking his head.

  Duke of Bourbon.

  He had to find Elspeth immediately.

  As expected, she was in her art wing.

  Today, Elspeth had even dared to stare at an empty canvas on her easel. She had still not painted since the news of Hans, and yet, she remained in the wing as she always had.

  Though when Demetre entered in a bit of a flustered state, Elspeth ditched her easel instantly.

  "Are you alright, Demetre?"

The man did not respond. He closed the door gently behind him, before taking a seat on the chaise in the room.

Elspeth approached the man as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

  "Did it go that poorly?" She attempted to tease lightly.

  "I hardly got a chance to tell him," Demetre admitted, looking to her with a quite shaken expression. "He was more focused on. . . well, Francis has offered to raise my station. Offer is a kind term really, he's. . . insisted on it."

"Is that not a joyous thing?" Elspeth questioned, "Rising ranks— that's wonderful, right?"

"He wants me to become a Duke, Elspeth."

Elspeth's furrowed her brows at his shock, joining the man.

"I'd. . . be responsible for a duchy," He continued, "For people, their safety, security— livelihoods, Elspeth."

"Is that such a terrible thing?"

He looked at her, shaking his head.

"I am no leader," Demetre whispered, "No man to look up to."

"Yet, people do," Elspeth said softly, "You are kind and brave, and fair."

"I am cruel."

"You have never been to me."

"You are one of a kind, Elspeth Liens."

She twisted her lips to the side, standing with a sigh.

"You know," Elspeth said, "My father is a Duke."

"I know-- Are you suggesting I ask him for advice?"

"No," Elspeth hummed, "The title was to be passed down to Hans. . . He would have been wonderful."

Demetre frowned as she hesitated for a moment.

"And then, second in line, was Fraser," She continued, "But, he's declined— off in the countryside with his wife and children, living a simple life."

Elspeth turned to him finally, her shoulder squared.

"Douglas has written me many letters on the matter," She said, "He believes that position would not be suited to his ways. That it should be passed on to someone else."

  Demetre's lips parted as Elspeth gave him a sad smile.

  "I, too, think I will be a terrible Duchess," Elspeth whispered, "But who would I be if I did not at least try?"

↬

"I decline the title of Duke of Bourbon."

Francis raised an eyebrow at Demetre's strong entrance.

"Demetre, I know you have fought every noble title, but this one—"

"I decline," Demetre repeated sharply, eyeing others in the room, "A word in private?"

Francis sighed as he agreed, waving off the others as he stepped down from the throne to meet Demetre.

"Demetre, you can't—"

"I appreciate everything you have done for me, Francis, as a friend and a king," Demetre said honestly, "But I cannot accept this title."

"Why not?"

"Because I intend to marry a woman who could not hold the title alongside mine."

Francis's jaw dropped.

"You intend to marry—?"

"I do."

Francis nodded, eyeing the man for a moment.

"Elspeth?"

"Who else?"

He had surrendered that truth long ago. The feelings and all that came with them.

"You intend to marry her?"

"I only want for such," He said quietly, "Nothing more. Not a title, or riches, or glory. Only her, Francis."

  And Francis smiled, despite the matters he was dealing with between his mother, Mary, and Lola. He smiled and brought his friend into a brotherly embrace.

  "You have my blessing. As your king and your friend."

  And Demetre couldn't help but smile as well.

  "You deserve this, Demetre."

  This time, those words did not fill him with dread. Even though he was well aware marrying Elspeth would bestow the same title Francis had attempted to give him. Even though he knew many more trials would soon face them, even though he knew it would never be easy.

  It would always be worth it. 

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
they just make me so happy