Delphine St. Clair

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The gnawing in his chest had been asphyxiating from the very moment he’d caught word that they’d lost her. People could argue his guilt so far as his ex-wife, his son, and even Emily were concerned… but not this time. The Russians might’ve delivered Elaina to them looking for an reaction, but they didn’t have to answer it like that, and if he’d just taken a moment to fucking think instead of letting himself be consumed by a rare display of emotion, the situation would never have escalated to the point where Aurélie had been taken from them.

That blood was as much on his hands as the Russians’.

And for that he would never forgive himself.

It felt a lot like he was trapped inside a tiny room. No windows, no door, nothing at all. The world around him ceased to exist the way it had done before, he was so consumed by grief. Everything he’d refused to feel for all these years had finally punched through the barrier he’d built in his mind to lock it out, and he still didn’t know, didn’t honestly believe he had the means to cope with it. Every movement was muscle memory. Everything else reflexive. Going through the fucking motions, because it all just had a little less meaning, now.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t heard her behind him until she spoke.

And the quiver in her voice brought him straight back to a reality he wanted no part of.

It was undoubtedly hurting her to see him like this, in the same way it was hurting him to see her pain. He felt it too because he loved her. Her suffering was his suffering, and it was only compounded by the fact he had undoubtedly contributed to it. Had no real way to fix it, no matter how ready he was to put himself on the line to try. And so he paused adjusting the jacket that sat atop broad shoulders. Took a quiet breath to steel himself before he made his way back to her.

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Varden understood that feeling well. The constant, numbing fear that he would have to put somebody else he loved in the ground soon enough. 

When he approached her, his hands cupped her face; only for a moment, though, before he puled her into an embrace. All he wanted to do was say I’m sorry, but he couldn’t. If he said the words aloud, it was an admission of guilt, and there was no coming back from that. No way he could reason with himself. 

Justify standing in front of her at all. 

“I love you. I don’t deserve you right now, but I love you, Delphine, and I will always come back. I’m not leaving you. And you’re not leaving me, either.”

.

It was a strange feeling, to care about someone’s well-being as much as her own. No, she had never been a complete psycho, she didn’t enjoy torturing people for sport, and getting creative in all the ways on how to murder their enemies, but Delphine had always put Delphine first. Her goals and her agenda always took priority with little to no regard to other people’s feelings, she didn’t much care for some of the moral red lines that her cousin had tried to uphol. Hell, Delphine would have actual children desposed of if it fit her agenda.

With Varden though, it was different.

There was no well-being of Delphine withouth the well-being of Varden. There was no happiness for Delphine without his. In some way, perhaps this was selfish as well - Varden was not only the kind of man she needed, but the kind of man she wanted. The only one she actually wanted to stay in her life, forever. The only one whose absence could hurt her.

The words that intended to comfort her had actually brought her to tears. The tratcherous drop had escaped her, leaving a trail on her cheeks. “I don’t know why you love me. I don’t have Emily’s kindness or Marine’s maternal instincts,” she quickly wiped away her tears, finding strength again. “But I am glad you do and I am counting on that love to keep you tethered, to want to be around for a long, long time. Whatever you need, you have my support.”

 If something happened to you, it would break me, she thought to herself, but didn’t say out loud. She couldn’t put even more pressure on someone who seemed to be carried the world on his shoulders.

@delphine-st-clair​ Dated: 3/5/23. Location: The Empire Hotel.

What the French had done was unforgivable. 

They mourned the loss of a leader whilst glossing over the fact she would’ve still been with them if they hadn’t shit the bed quite so publicly. It might’ve been the Russians who had started the shooting, the ones who’d hung the near-dead Commandant like a butchered animal for all to see, but it was her men who had escalated the situation to the point where the Vorshevskys felt cornered enough to snap. And now he was gone.

It wasn’t the time or the place. Konstantin deserved everything coming his way, but in that moment, the French had been no better than their enemy; arrogant, reckless, and irrational. All for a few lower level Russian brutes. Was it worth it?

The Rutherford had grieved so intensely in the weeks that’d followed, now she didn’t feel much of anything at all. Anger was the only thing that scratched the numbed surface, and when her eyes met the blonde from across the room, it peaked so brutally, she’d almost turned on her heels and left. Lara would do whatever it took to make sure the Russians paid for what they’d taken. But so would she.

All that was stopping her from calling Medea was that she needed the French for this.

And they needed her, too. Delphine knew it.

“I have terms.”

Neither of them trusted the other. 

It’s why Delphine had chosen this particular venue - she knew Lara wouldn’t turn her brother’s hotel in a crime scene, and Lara would know Delphine wouldn’t risk walking into the very heart of Rutherford territory having a murderous agenda.

The mutual benefits that their partnership could bring though outweighed the lack of trust.

The Rutherfords may have not had as much magnitude when it came to running a criminal empire as the French or Russians, but they had one thing that neither of them had as quite the same level - influence. The Rutherford’s had the entire scene of London’s political and social power in their back pockets and for what’s about to come, Delphine needed just that.

The weight that sat on both of their shoulder was crushing, but as much as she couldn’t stand the brunette sat across her, Delphine could recognise that Lara Rutherford was a worthy foe. 

“What are your terms?” she asked, the eye contact between the two - the tension could’ve been cut with a knife.

 This conversation had the ability to define the entire course of this war. Now was not the time to engage antagonising each other - which on a regular day was Delphine’s source of entertainment, but not now.

Delphine: See me when you have time?

Delphine: I guess this happens when you decide to employee brainless animals - you can't control them.

Delphine: Because I saw you at least /try/ to mitigate the situation, I'll give you the courtesy of telling you that our deal is off. Your scum of the Earth soldiers have left us no choice, the original plan is no longer beneficial for me. She is of value to me now.

Emilia: Oui, I will take care of that with Lisette.

Delphine: Could you please take care of the funeral arrangements in Paris? My mother can help from there.

Delphine: It would be too much for Adrienne, and neither myself nor Oliver can focus on that right now.

Emilia: I love you. Odd time to say it, but I want you to know it.

Emilia: I put an offer in a new place. If it goes through, I'll send you and Varden the address.

Emilia: I'll be safe, I mean it.

Delphine: That's good news.

Delphine: Actually, there is something you could help with.

Delphine: Can you keep Adrienne company together with Lisette?

“I love you, and I won’t try to stop you, but please remind yourself that I’m waiting for you every night to come home. Please don’t make me loose someone I love again. I don’t have many left.”

As she watched him put on his jacket, about to leave house, Delphine’s voice cracked. He was seeing her at her most vulnerable, and he would be the only person to witness it, but Delphine didn’t have it in her to not say what was on her mind. 

“Your gun is on the kitchen counter. I had Nico bring the ammo. Give them hell.”

Emilia: Mom is here. She will be here for the next two weeks.

Emilia: Let me know if you need anything.

Delphine: Thank you.

Cassie: I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times already, and I know first hand that sorry doesn't bring people back, but know that I am.

Cassie: We need to talk.

Delphine: Thank you, Cassie. I appreciate you reaching out.

Delphine: She had a lot of nice things to say about you.

Lara: Whatever you need, it's yours.

Lara: If I can give it, I will.

Delphine: Meet me at your brother's hotel.

The second she saw the state Elaina was in, Delphine knew, there was no containing of the situation, there was no room for rational thinking. There was no force in nature that could stop the avalanche of anger. The cold-hearted leader in her wanted to command her people to stay put, but she was not delusional enough to ask for something that was quite simply, impossible. 

As much as lots of people in the organisation adored Elaina, this wasn’t just about her. This was about Fran, Dan, Noa, Marine, Marcel, Varden’s son, Maya, the attempt on Aurélie, Yves, Varden... This was about the bottled up misery, pain, suffering and loss that her people have endured since they’ve come to London and it was all about to unravel... tonight. 

She followed  Aurélie’s gaze and got the idea who exactly her cousin was looking for. Delphine gave her an acknowledging look and stayed behind, consulting the security how to mitigate the situation as much as it was possible. The night was about to descent into a bigger chaos, and she felt a crushing weigh of dreadful anticipation of what would happen next. 

There would be death - there was no doubt about that - her only worry was which bodies would fall before the night was over.

“Follow Aurélie,” she instructed two of her men pinnned to her side, “I’ll be fine, Oliver and Thierry can protect me,” even though the other St. Clair had bodyguards trailing her already, she seemed to be headed towards the thick of it, and she could use the extra set of bodyguards than Delphine did in this moment. 

Her eyes looked for Konstantin, in desperate hopes he’d also willing to do something, anything, and just about when she clocked him and decided to take the risk to leave the safe corner and approach him, he barked the order to silence them all.

Until it was no longer enough.

Her instinct was to run after her men, to find Varden, Aurélie, Yves, Jean but she had be the designated survivor. Executives never boarded the same plane in case of a crash. She tood next to her car, her expression barely betraying the inner hellscape of emotions.

“Delphine, we shoud leave now...” one of her bodyguards she’d sent after Aurélie had come rushing back and opened the door of her car, without looking in her eyes.

“No, I need to make sure Aurélie and Varden are safe, we’ll wait.”

“Delphine...”

“What?” The Frenchwoman barked, her patience quickly evaporating.

“There is something you should know...”

All she could hear after the news was delivered to her was ringing and buzzing. Her entire body was shaking - out of anger, grief, fear, confusion. It was a rare moment of utter lack of composure the St. Clair woman was known for. She felt the loss physically, an invisible hand grabbing her heart and crushing her chest. It was a familiar feeling, the one she’d felt when she had been told that Margaux had been killed. 

This was a point of no return.

Delphine now had become the last St. Clair standing in the French Organisation and the realisation of her mortality had fully dawned on her.