#duchebus

DUCHESS: The past few months had been tumultuous. Really, the past year had been a rocky one. So much had happened that Duchess was not sure that Swynlake was the place for her anymore. It had turned her into a woman that she didn’t recognize and one that she hadn't ever wanted to be. She’d hurt one of her dearest friends, had nearly destroyed a marriage that was just beginning to flourish. But out of everything had come Phoebus and he was a light in the dark. A light at the end of her long, long tunnel of suffering.

Where Thomas had left her reeling and feeling lost, Phoebus had swept her off of her feet. He was absolutely everything that she wanted in a man. And while he had kept his secrets and their relationship had started off rockier than she had wanted, it had been dealt with easily. Maturely. There was no screaming and yelling and crying. No immature displays of masculinity. Instead, he had given Duchess exactly what she wanted. A relationship that she could be proud of.

So much so that she had packed up everything in her home, had even put it on the market again, so that she could move with him to Denmark.

It was a terrifying thing to think about but it was always calmed with the thought that Phoebus had asked her to come with him because he could see their future. Just as brightly as she could it seemed. And regardless, she was ready to go. All her life all she had wanted was to be better than Adelaide. To do something that would make her parents as proud of her as they were of her older sister. She had her fashion empire, she had won a seat on the Board, and now-- Now she was going to start her biggest venture yet and for once all that mattered was the fact she was happy. So incredibly happy.

At least she was until her phone had rang and Phoebus’ voice reached her.

Fury fueled her as she made her way to the jail, ready to tear into anyone and everyone that got in her way.

“Where is he?” Her voice was shrill as she entered the police station, eyes blazing as she glared at every deputy there. It only took a few seconds before she was being ushered to where he was being held. Seeing him behind the bars only slightly dampened the fires of her rage. “What the bloody hell happened, Phoebus? What--- I thought it was supposed to be easy… How long until you are allowed to leave? They cannot just hold you here.”

PHOEBUS: Phoebus was defeated.

He knew this as he was handcuffed, as he was shoved unceremoniously into the back of the cop car.

The demon had gotten away with it. The bitch Mundus girl too.

His only comfort was that it was not his fault. The plan he had slaved over was excellent. If Merida had not surprised him--with her betrayal, with her curse--things would’ve been perfect. He could still see, in his mind’s eye, the flickering of Hades’ flame dying, the decision there in his eyes. He would have given himself up for Belle and after he was dead, there would have been nothing stopping him from finishing the rest.

But in this cursed town, it was the bad guys who won. Or, perhaps there was no such thing. This place was just full of vile blackness--no matter what Phoebus would have done, he could not have cured it from its evil.

These thoughts comforted him as he sat silently. He knew anything he said could be used against him. He was an officer, after all. And a Prince. They did not wag their tongues. Phoebus refused to do so. He sat stoic and silent.

Inside his jail cell, it was the same. Phoebus held his breath. Phoebus waited. When he got his phone call, he was almost surprised--but why would he be? The people here were idiots. Not that he was going to use his phone call for his parents, though he should. No, he needed to sit with the disappointment coursing through him for longer.

(And there was a part of him that feared his family would not fetch him. His disgrace once more, the final nail in his coffin. They could not stand to lose him, could they? Phoebus knew that they rather would than continue to be disgraced and embarrassed.)

In the echoes of the holding cells, Phoebus could hear Clemens’ laughter.

When Duchess arrived, that guilt dug itself deeper into his gut--and he wondered how long he would carry it.

For the record, it was not guilt at what he had done. Oh, no. If you thought that, you were very, very wrong. It was guilt at having been caught. Guilt of not ridding this town of those demons. Guilt at not fulfilling his promises to Duchess.

“It was Merida,” he snarled at once to Duchess, ignoring the way his face twinged from where Hades had punched him. He hoped she would not shy at the blood on his shirt as he came forwards, for it was not his.

“She’s a fucking werewolf. Apparently, a werewolf with a conscience.”

DUCHESS: Seeing Phoebus behind bars was--- She did not like it. It made her blood boil and part of her wanted to demand they let him out. There was no reason for him to be there. No reason for him to be held like some sort of criminal. She had no idea what he had done to warrant such treatment simply because she hadn’t asked but she was sure that all he was doing was getting rid of a threat that the entire town refused to deal with.

It was only after she got over the shock of seeing him behind the bars that she registered the blood that coated his shirt and the cuts and bruises on his face. Hades had done this to him. All of this was Hades’ fault. If this stupid town had just locked him away when they’d found out about those damned hell hounds none of this would have happened. And now Phoebus was the one being locked away? Like he was some dangerous criminal?

“What do you mean Merida is a werewolf? What did she do?” If Merida had begun to work with Hades… She was as good as an enemy. Duchess would do whatever she had to ensure that her future was not destroyed because some little girl had decided to have a conscious. Hades was dangerous. There was ample proof of that. This should not have happened.

Carefully she reached through the bars, wanting to grab hold of Phoebus in an attempt to ground herself against the current of emotions she was feeling. Again she could feel everything she had worked for slipping through her fingers. Her future was supposed to be secured. They had made plans. They were supposed to be starting their life together in Denmark. It couldn’t end like this.

“What are we to do now? Tell me what I must do to get you out of here.”

PHOEBUS: Duchess reached for him and Phoebus almost wanted to pull away. Not because he did not want her to touch him, but because he was ashamed. They should be on the road by now. Their bags packed. They would stay at the castle whilst they chose a house to live in. And then, they would move in. The Tourney would be soon. If all went well, Phoebus’ family would be the new Kings. Which meant that he could take some time off hunting, to help his father begin to get everything in order.

Could be there whilst Duchess (with input from his mother, he was sure) set up their home.

He would propose, after a few months. They would get married. Have children. It was supposed to be a good life.

Hades and Merida had taken that away from him. He blamed Merida more than Hades, honestly. Hades was going to surrender. He’d seen it in his eyes. Hades defeated. He clung to that look, even if it was fruitless.

But the fight was extinguished. He knew he would not have another shot at Hades. The threat would not be eliminated. Even if he was acquitted (unlikely, unless he was tried elsewhere), he would not be able to come back to Swynlake without detection. He could send someone new in, but the baby would be born by then…and whatever curse that was bound to befall Swynlake would have already come to passed.

Now, he needed to think of this new future. To plan what he needed to do, in order to keep Duchess safe. In order to begin his plans anew.

So, he did not shrink from her grasp, though he wanted to. Instead, he reached forward to grasp her hand, lifting it to his lips.

“The Order has failsafes in place, in case of situations such as this. Do not worry, my love.” He went to touch her hand to his cheek, but remembered that he was still covered in Merida’s blood. So, instead, he took a single step closer. “I will get my revenge on that demon and that mutt.”

DUCHESS: She refused to cry. Even if her tears were only because she was so, so… angry. Angry at Hades for getting out of this. At Merida for being the cause of this downfall. Even slightly at Phoebus for allowing himself to get caught, for not being so totally diligent that he figured out that Merida was a werewolf. If he were not behind the bars, Duchess had a hard feeling that she would have slapped him. Which would have promptly been followed by those hot tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.

But no. Now she to pull herself together. Think of what exactly came next.

His parents would need to be contacted, a lawyer hired. They would need to push to get Phoebus out of Swynlake. There was no way that he’d be able to stay in the town. Any court here he was brought to would be biased. Hades had already won over so many people in the town. No, he needed to be taken elsewhere. That was the only way that they’d be able to have their future.

“I won’t let them get away with this. Either of them. Whatever you need from me, darling,” she promised as he stepped closer to her. Her fingers curled around his, wishing for a moment that she could press herself against him. Or that he could hold her at least one last time before the literal shit storm that was about to fall over them.

PHOEBUS: Duchess’ words made Phoebus’ heart clench two-fold.

First, he was touched that she was so fierce about the whole situation, vowing revenge. Her eyes flashed and his heart stirred. He’d always liked her best dressed in rage. The first time they’d slept together had been after she’d told off that awful woman and he had licked the rage off of her body, tasting it sweet and salty on his tongue. He had always wanted someone by his side who was just as ferociously dedicated to the cause as he was.

However, the idea of Duchess attempting revenge on that devil (perhaps the Devil made flesh and bone), clouded his heart with worry like a thunderstorm. She was not equipped to handle such things. Phoebus had not had a chance, once Merida turned on him. If he had been with someone else, perhaps he could have done it. Duchess on her own? Phoebus knew his darling was strong and fierce, but she was not a Prince.

And he did not want her hurt.

Phoebus stepped closer and slipped his free hand through the bars to touch her cheek. “You must promise me that you will not attempt revenge alone, my love. He is powerful. More powerful than anything I have ever come across. I would hate to see you hurt because of me.”

DUCHESS: She understood why he did not want her going after Hades. It was the same reason she had been wary about him going after the demon. But she was not weak and she was not foolish enough to go after Hades alone. And she would not go after him in the same way that Phoebus had. Even though she was still quite fuzzy on the details of his exact plan, she still knew that it was more than likely termination. Duchess didn’t want him to die, though. She wanted him to suffer like she no doubt would with Phoebus gone and their town no longer safe from Hades and his demons.

Still, she nodded as his hand rested against her cheek. There was no denying that she would miss his touch, would miss his presence all together. It would not be long, though, is what she told herself as she leaned into that soft touch for a long moment before taking his hand in hers.

“You know I would not go after him alone,” she all but whispered, wishing once more that there were not bars between them. She wanted one last embrace, a chance to memorize his particular musk to memory before he was shipped off to some other holding cell away from Swynlake.

Easily she pressed her lips to his knuckles with a soft sigh. “I will not go after him but I will not make things easy for him.” She vowed this to him because Hades did not deserve to go about acting like a victim or garnering sympathy from the town. “When this whole mess is dealt with there will be more information on him. More of his weaknesses will be known. And that disgusting wolf will be of no concern. There will be no one to stop you from doing what need be done.”

PHOEBUS: Phoebus smiled as she kissed his hand. If only he could reach through these bars. If only he could bend them out of the way and go to her. If only there was someone on this police force that he could bribe to open the door. He wouldn’t even run (though, he would like to, if he could bribe them to let him go, he’d take it.) No, really all he wanted was to hold Duchess. To kiss her. To tell her that everything was going to be alright.

He did believe everything would be alright. Truly.

And he believed even more strongly than that in Duchess. She was a powerful, strong, elegant woman. There would be no one else that he would want by his side through this.

His hand lifted to touch her cheek, then her golden-spun hair, soft as silk. He imagined it was what the hair of Aphrodite might feel like. He would claim perhaps even softer, but he was no fool, he knew the myths. (Not that he believed in those gods, he believed in his God that would not let this injustice go unpunished.)

“Your strength gives me strength,” he told her. It was true too.

He stepped closer to the bars, drawing her closer too. He kissed her through them, just once, just softly. The kiss a promise.

PHOEBUS: Ah, the Winter’s Ball.

The tradition. The glam. The frivolity.

It was everything that the Order of the Prince wanted to emulate.

Phoebus normally found it dreadfully boring. Sure, he liked a good party, but he knew these were the types of events where even he had to be on his best behavior. When he’d been younger, he’d tripped over himself like an overgrown pup, excited to meet all the pretty girls and feel them up in corridors...erm, dance with them…

Anyway, as he had gotten older, everyone had paired off and it had led to a rather boring procession. Of course, he danced with his mother and his sister and his little niece. Occasionally, he managed a dance with Olivia. (That was always the highlight of the night.)

But now, he was here with Duchess on his arm. Who looked more beautiful than any of the Order women. Was smarter too. Independent. And looked absolutely gorgeous in her dress, which he was sure would be the talk of the ball, if they weren’t the talk of the ball themselves.

See, you weren’t supposed to bring someone who wasn’t your betrothed with you to one of these, if they were outside the Order. Phoebus didn’t really care. He trusted Duchess and that was all that mattered to him. Also...he hadn’t exactly told his family. Which was going to be hilarious, for they were going to have to just grin and bare it. It would be unseemly to yell at their only adult son, the only remaining male heir of age, in front of the whole Order.

They stood outside of the Guild Hall doors now, people sweeping in and out around them. Though located in the theatre district of London, no one paid them a passing glance in their formal wear. Hiding in plain sight, as the Order was wont to do.

Phoebus turned to Duchess before entering and smiled lightly at her. “Are you ready? I’ve got to find my mother first and say hello. Tradition,” he explained with a little roll of his eyes.

DUCHESS: She had been surprised when Phoebus had invited her to the Winter’s Ball. There was still so little she knew about the Order of the Prince. Just what Phoebus had told her. She’d tried to do her own research but there hadn’t been much. Just stories that changed and twisted and contradicted with every other source. It was infuriating.

Added to that the new status of her and Phoebus’ relationship and it was very safe to say that the normally very well put together designer was in a state of panic. Not that that could be seen if you looked at her. As usual she was a picture of confidence. Inside, her mind was a tornado of thought. So many questions that she felt she couldn’t ask, situations that could happen, and what if’s twirled around mind. Sooner or later it would quiet down; more than likely once they were in the midst of mingling and more in her element.

She watched as people milled about, amazed how not one single passerby stopped to question the people standing around in such attire. Her own dress, while simple and understated, was not one that would be seen just out on the streets of London; even if they were in the theatre district.

Phoebus easily and quickly brought her out of her thoughts, his voice causing her gaze to return to him. His mother. Duchess had not yet gotten that far in her spiralling thought process but now that it was there she couldn’t help the way her stomach clenched. Very rarely had she ever had to meet parents as a significant other. Most of her relationships either fizzled before that point or she already knew the parents.

“Who am I to argue tradition,” she returned his smile easily. “Shall we?”

PHOEBUS: This was a very big deal.

Which meant that Phoebus was acting like it was not a big deal at all. In fact, he didn’t think it was, not really. The Order was who made it into a big deal. They were the ones with the rules that said so. Phoebus just happened to...follow those rules. Which was why he thought the same way. He had never done this before. Taken someone to meet his parents. Well, when he had been younger and a rapscallion, he had brought girls to these events just to be scandalous.

He had never done it seriously.

But, here they were.

It was a good thing if Duchess was nervous that she was doing a good job masking it. Her nerves would certainly make his own worse. She was calm, however, and it calmed him.

“We shall,” he said, offering his elbow to her before stepping forwards into the building that had been owned by the Order for generations.

It opened into a hallway, people mingling, but Phoebus ignored them--heading right for the ballroom at the end of the hall. He knew that his mother would be more likely to be mingling inside, as she always arrived to these events promptly. Unlike him.

“That is the King of the Order. Not a real king. Title only. This year is the melee to change the family. I will be fighting for my family and I have a very good feeling about it,” he murmured to her as they walked, his eyes still scanning the crowd.

“Ah! My little far-darter,” came a cooing voice and Phoebus turned just before his mother reached up to tug him down by the shirt and kiss both of his cheeks. “And who is this, you rascal?” His mother said, pushing him away and zeroing in on Duchess. “Could it be that LaBlanc woman I’ve heard so much about?” Her expression was assessing, but not negative nor positive.

“Duchess, meet my mother--Lady Sorcha de Chateaupers. Mother, this is Duchess. My date.”

DUCHESS: This was a daunting feat that left Duchess feeling so out of her depth. While she was known to be charming and alluring, it was all a facade for the public. A way to keep her life as private as possible.  But this was her private life. She was very much smitten with Phoebus and after the rather frank discussion about his dalliances with other women, she was sure he felt completely the same. Being allowed to see this part of his life, to actively participate in it, was surreal and terrifying. Too far out of the unknown.

She took his arm without pause, gliding along beside him. Inside the building she could see the heads turn towards them, hear the whispers. This must be as new to them as it was to her. At least she was making an entrance. Her head was held a bit higher, her gaze staying ahead of them. It only faltered when Phoebus pointed out the ‘King’ of the Order and even then she assessed the man quickly before turning back to look at Phoebus. “Winning would make you king, non?” She asked with a raised brow. The term sounded almost silly on her tongue. Though she couldn’t deny that Phoebus already held a somewhat regal air that would allow that title to fit him quite nicely. (And if there was a part of her that wondered if that would make her Queen, she didn’t speak of it. Simply squashed it down with the other questions she had.)

In what felt like no time at all, they were approached and as Duchess had turned to admire the great ballroom she couldn’t help but feel a small chill. There was absolutely no turning back now.

A small smile tucked itself into the corner of her lips as his mother greeted him. For the briefest of moments she wished her family was the same, but just like her previous thoughts it was whisked away to the farthest reaches of her mind. All too quickly, however, the attention was turned to her.

Duchess knew the look the woman wore well. She was being appraised much like she had done to various runway shows before. To be the object of that appraisal was nerve wracking. Her heart beat out a staccato sort of sound in her chest, rattling her rib cage as she held her breath. Said breath wasn’t released until her name fell from Phoebus’ lips.

“A pleasure, Lady Sorcha,” Duchess bowed her head towards the woman, her nerves skillfully hidden away. Mothers were like predators. They could smell fear and Duchess refused to give that to the woman. “I do hope all you have heard has been good things.”

PHOEBUS: Well, she’d used his mother’s title. That was sure to earn her some points. Though, Phoebus had a feeling his mother was simply putting on a show. She had been wanting him to settle down for a very long time now. And with someone as beautiful and accomplished as Duchess? With so many connections and influence?

She really was the complete package, and his mother should know that.

Still, Phoebus reached over to give Duchess’ hand in the crook of his elbow a little squeeze, though to the outside it would look as if Phoebus was simply resting it there.

“Oh, of course, my dear. I don’t know what there would be bad to say!” His mother smiled then, looking much more warm. “We will have lots to talk about, I’m a bit of an artist myself.”

“Duchess is also a businesswoman, mother,” interjected Phoebus.

“Ach, I know. Beauty and brains? I wouldn’t have any less for my Phoebus. I don’t think he’d have any less for himself, though the last girl he’d brought was a bimbo if she was anything.”

“Mother, that was eight years ago,” Phoebus protested, his cheeks coloring a bit.

“Well, you shouldn’t have brought her at all.” She sniffed and her expression turned a little harder towards Duchess. “I am sure this one has a proper head on her shoulders, though, don’t you, my dear?”

DUCHESS: Phoebus’ mother turned to her fully and Duchess would have wilted under that assessing gaze if she were a lesser woman. As it was, she didn’t feel the need to. Instead met it with a smile of her own as she gave a soft laugh. It was a quiet relief that the woman had not heard bad things about her. After all, the rumor mill was always churning against her. Tabloids trying to do anything they could to dig up dirt on the elusive Duchess LaBlanc.

Still, she was grateful for Phoebus’ gentle touch.

“Oui,” she spoke quickly, interest painting it’s way onto her words. She hadn’t known that his mother had an interest in art. In fact there was not much that she knew about his mother. Nothing at all could have prepared her for this meeting. Something she would have to chide Phoebus about later in private. “Do you paint?” She found herself asking, wanting to know more about her. The Order was still a confusing thing to her. It’s purpose was clear but the role of each member was still something unknown to her. Were the women of the Order simply there for decoration? Or was there more to it? She had a feeling that if she was able to please Lady Sorcha she would have a better in on everything to do with The Order.

As Lady Sorcha continued, Duchess couldn’t help but chuckle oh so softly.

“I can assure you, I am no bimbo.” Duchess sobered quickly as that harsh gaze was once again turned towards her. The fact that she needed to assert that was almost an insult. Duchess kept her remark to herself only because she knew that his mother was feeling her out. “And I do not mean to brag but if my business is anything to go by, I can also assure you that I have quite the head on my shoulders. Good enough to keep Phoebus in line, should he need it. Though, I can safely say that he has been nothing but a perfect gentleman since I’ve known him.”

PHOEBUS: “Of course he has been.” Sorcha reached out to pat her son’s chest fondly. “But, I’m sure you could handle him otherwise,” she added, giving Duchess an appraising glance.

“I’m standing right here,” Phoebus said with a little huff--if only to make his mother chuckle at him.

His father appeared through the crowd just then, weaving his way towards his wife and son--whom he had not seen in several months.

“Phoebus!” his father greeted in a gruff voice, reaching out to shake his son’s hand. “And who might this lovely woman be? Surely not our Phoebus’ date!” It was said jovially but Phoebus heard the words beneath: that better not be Phoebus’ date.

“Silas, stop it. This is Duchess LaBlanc,” Sorcha introduced, “Duchess--this is my husband, Silas.”

“A pleasure.” Silas’ blue eyes twinkled but Phoebus knew better. There was a calculation to his gaze. Not that Phoebus cared, he would be with Duchess either way, because that was the kind of person Phoebus was. He didn’t care to listen to an old man’s opinions about who he should or should not be with. The Order had always been stifling that way. Phoebus agreed with their mission, but he did not agree with their traditions.

“And how are you finding our little gathering, then?” Phoebus’ father asked, but Phoebus knew what he was really asking: how do you feel about the Order?

DUCHESS: For a moment, as Phoebus’ father approached, Duchess was speechless. The man was, in a word, handsome. Of course it went much deeper than that. There was something about his presence. It demanded to be noticed, commanded Duchess’ attention even as she hung off of his son’s arm. Maybe that was what Phoebus would look like when he was older. The hair that he’d clearly gotten from his mother would turn a lovely shade of white and he’d grow some black in there for that lovely salt and pepper look. He’d be so dashing; even more dashing than he was at the moment.

Not long after he announced his presence, Sorcha introduced her to him and Duchess had the good sense to at least incline her head at him as she offered a kind smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, Silas.” Even his name felt handsome rolling of her tongue. Rich and decadent. And she only hoped that she could make as good an impression on him as she did with Lady Sorcha.

His question caught her off guard just a bit. If anyone were to ask that question, Duchess thought it would be his mother. After all, it was a question Duchess would have asked because that sort of thing was important to her. What people thought of her events often reflected what they thought of her and— oh. There it was. The secret question hidden within the other question.

“Well,” she started slowly as she looked around at the people that were beginning to mill about more. “From what I have seen this is all very lovely. While the events in Swynlake are nice. It’s more satisfying to be in a more familiar space.” She gave him a smile as she leaned into Phoebus just slightly. “This is the type of soirée I would prefer to associate myself with.”

PHOEBUS: Silas chuckled heartily at Duchess’ answer, his eyes twinkling.

“Yes, well, you fit in wonderfully, my darling,” Silas complimented, his eyes trailing up and down Duchess’ frame.

“Silas,” Sorcha said with a smile of her own, leaning in to take his elbow. “Let’s leave the children alone to have their fun.”

“Yes, dear.” Silas smiled at his wife, touching her cheek for a moment before turning back to Phoebus and Duchess. “Have a good time. Duchess, I hope we will be seeing more of you in the future. Phoebus needs a woman like you to keep him in order.”

Phoebus rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Good-bye, Da.”

With another chuckle, Phoebus’ parents moved off. They were still getting curious glances from other members of the Order, though Phoebus knew that a few of them were jealous women--Phoebus now taken and Duchess looking ever so beautiful He put a hand on the small of her back. “Well, that went much better than last time. Not that I am surprised.”

And he wasn’t. Before, Phoebus had been trying to get under his father’s skin. Show him that if he did not think him better than Clemens, then Phoebus really would be the worst son imaginable. Now that Clemens was gone, Phoebus was trying to temper his ways. Also, he did find this life suited Duchess. He wanted to shower her in gifts of jewels and smithery. She would look beautiful against the wild sea of Denmark, where he hoped they could make a home.

“Would you like to dance, my love? Show off that beautiful dress of yours?”

DUCHESS: Duchess caught the look that Silas gave her but she ignored it purely in favor of basking in his approval. It had seemed that she had gained the approval of both of his parents and it was a good feeling. One that made her feel light and airy; giddy even. “Thank you, Silas,” she smiled at him, nodding her head at him. “I hope to come to more of these. They are certainly enjoyable.”

And it was all true. So far from what she had seen Duchess was very much enjoying herself. The Order was not some stuffy institution to be trapped in. From what she had seen it was a place where like minded people could come together and celebrate beautiful things, all while making the world they lived in a safer place. It was a place she would be able to find her place in easily.

She was stuck in her thoughts, watching as people danced and mingled and interacted. So much so that when Phoebus addressed her again she nearly startled. Instead, though, she turned towards him with somewhat of a smirk on her lips. Oh did she love the chance to show off. And from the looks she had garnered from some of the women (and their counterparts) there was already some jealousy in the room.

“Mmm, maybe show off the woman on your arm. Have I snagged the most eligible bachelor?” She smirked as they moved towards the dance floor.

PHOEBUS: Phoebus hoped that Duchess could attend more of these as well. His mind spun with all the possibilities. It spooled out a thread--

One day, soon, Phoebus as King, Duchess by his side.

A year from now, perhaps, a wedding (the Order had very specific courtship rituals and whilst Phoebus had never been interested in marrying within the Order (besides one), he would want to honor those rituals.)

A year after that, a baby. A boy first, and then a girl--and after that, as many as Duchess would want. He had always wanted a big family. Duchess would be a wonderful mother and they would raise strong sons who would keep their seat as King for longer than any family that had come before him.

Years from now, he and Duchess would retire by the seaside--their children grown, the castle theirs. Duchess would still do her fashion. Phoebus would write his demon encyclopedia for young hunters.

It would be a good life.

But first, a dance.