#freid

“It’s alright, there is no need to rise. Your well-being comes first,” signalling his arrival, the Duke's dark timbering voice seemed to stop Ditoa's hands.

“How are you feeling? Has the doctor been here yet?” Marlene shook her head a little under the Duke’s worried gaze.

“He is supposed to come soon. But Her Highness said a doctor is not necessary,” said Ditoa.

“Marlene is my precious wife. If the doctor sees you, and says it’s nothing serious, then that’s fine. For now, however, please let him examine you.”

“Yes,” Marlene said meekly. What Aston said about the Duke was not superficial, he was truly a wonderful person. His personality was genuinely noble, earning him the deep loyalty of his retainers. And his rule was kind, earning him the love of his people, as Marlene noticed herself. On first sight, he seemed rough and blunt, but the kindness and care for others immediately softened Marlene’s anxious and tense heart.

To Marlene’s astonishment, the Duke did not ask her hand upon King Aston’s recommendation, it was the wish of the Duke himself.

“But you hadn’t even met me!” At that moment, embarrassment started to show on the Duke’s face, peeking even through his stern, thick beard.

“Your portrait was enough to steal my heart away. I shamelessly collected every rumor I could about you among the folk.”

“Oh my…!” Marlene’s eyes went round. Blood rose into Duke’s dark face as he looked at Marlene with sincere eyes.

“The more I heard the more I knew you were the only one for me.” The Duke held Marlene’s hand softly. “I am not planning to do anything you would not want. But you should know that it was me who wanted you to come here more than anyone.”

“You are too kind to me.” Bowing her head, Marlene could not stop the tears from overflowing.

There are so many kinds of people, she thought leaning on the Duke’s arm. She was born into a royal family, into a mold she could not bend nor break, like many people around her. That’s why the meeting with Allen was a shock.

Looking back on her relationship with the knight, it had been her first contact with the real world, which unfortunately never had a chance to go beyond a short introduction. She never expected it to happen again, but now, there was another man who had the power to overwhelm Marlene by his heartfelt affection.

“I am a lucky woman,” mused Marlene, honestly.

The Duke held her close with the gentle force of his arms. “Those words make me really happy.” Marlene buried her face in his warm chest, thinking.

Could it be that the fate was kind to me, after all?

As the Duke held her tightly, his beard scratched Marlene’s face. “Ah!” she squealed. “What’s wrong?” Startled, the Duke released Marlene to look at her face.

“It’s prickly!” Marlene blushed, blinking the last of her tears away before smiling. The Duke chuckled brightly.

Spending time like this, just the two of them, Marlene got to know the other side of the Duke. This one was rich in expression, unlike the stern face he usually wore in public.

His close retainers seemed to notice this change, too, as they smiled and gave warm looks to Marlene as well.

And yet…

Today, Marlene found it difficult to look the Duke in the face. It was because she knew the true reason behind her current illness.

Once the doctor examines me, everyone else will know, too. Marlene thought as she listened under her covers to the sound of the Duke’s fading steps as he walked away. It was only a few days ago that she noticed the changes in her body.

A child, the result of that time… Marlene intuitively knew.

Allen’s child. From the date, there was no mistake. It should have felt good to have something connecting her to someone, whom she once believed to be the love of her life. And one part of her was truly happy. But now, she was the Duchess [1] of Freid.

Giving birth to a child that does not share the Duke’s blood, was that something that could ever be forgiven?

It’s just me who knows.

Only Marlene knew the truth. Nobody, not even the doctor could know the father of a child which was not born yet.

The Duke would be overjoyed to hear the news. Could she not also come to believe that the child was his? The Duke would not doubt her for a second, would he?

It will be alright. Marlene thought. I alone will carry the burden.

Except…

The Duke’s sincerity and Allen’s unawareness made Marlene hesitate.

I may say I’ll carry the burden, but am I not just trying to escape the hardest part? Marlene asked herself.

I don’t want to lose his love.

But would she be able to continue accepting the Duke’s pure love while hiding such an important lie in the pit of her belly? Wouldn’t it mean betraying him twice fold?

Marlene lied back, gently stroking her stomach. She could feel nothing yet. But there were sure signs of a new life growing there.

Marlene shook her head gently.

I don’t need anything else but this.

Her breath got calm as she caressed her belly slowly.

End of Chapter.

---------------

He felt well and truly pitiful. How could he live like this, unable to handle something so mundane?

Now that he could breathe again and his tears had been dried, he could almost think normally again. But what could he do? Cyrus was struggling to give him an answer as well, but seeing his wide eyes tugged at his heartstrings. He still held Jackon in his arms, lightly rubbing up and down his back.

“Hey, wait,” he finally broke the silence, leaning his head against Jackson’s. “Have you tried finding a new hobby? Just something to take your mind off things.” Wow, now that he said that it sounded much lamer than he thought.

“A hobby?” Jackson blinked, his eyes still red.

“Yeah, like,” Cyrus paused, trying to find where he was going with this. “Like art, or dancing--wait…” The immediate realization hit him, but it was too late to take it back.

“Dancing does sound nice.” Jackson looked up at him, sniffling quietly and trying to compose himself.

“You know, you don’t have to-” Cyrus muttered, trying to remedy his perceived mistake, but was cut off.

“I think that may work. Dancing, that is.” Jackson’s face seemed to soften right away, and that normal Jackson tone to his voice was returning.

“Are you sure it isn’t too, erm, girly for you?” Cyrus was already feeling the regret. Dancing. Was that really the best he could do?

“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” Jackson’s tone was more confident.

“Well, if it works for you, it works for me.” His cheek rested on top of the other man’s head. He still had his concerns, to tell the truth, but how could he voice him when he seemed so intent on this? Maybe he had done something right. Hopefully it wasn't a mistake after all.

~~~

The next week, Jackson had appeared in the studio, dancing shoes in hand and nerves frazzled. At the moment, he was as anxious as ever; what if he was bad at it? What if he fell on his face in front of everyone? But he had come this far to Cyrus’s aunt’s studio, and backing out now was hardly an option. Pulling his slippers on, he took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

Cyrus was right in one regard: he was the only man in the room. But that was really the last of his concerns; what was more worrying was that he was easily the least experienced dancer in the room. Celine would call out steps in French, and Jackson would do his best to mimic the motions of the other dancers. The sheer amount of focus this required! In addition to following the other dancers, he would also somehow need to focus on pointing his feet and holding his hands in just the right position.

He was left humbled and exhausted. But in a way, it had worked.  As much as he struggled to keep up, he was too busy to even remember his anxious thoughts. Cyrus would be glad to hear this, he thought. But perhaps it would be better if he had something to show for it.

~~~

With Celine’s (surprisingly enthusiastic) permission, Cyrus stood in the empty studio. Dance classes had already ended for the day, and he was going to take the chance to train. Here he could take as much time as he needed to finally perfect his dancing.

What to work on first, perhaps his pirouettes? Those were what he struggled with the most, after all. So he carefully extended his leg behind him, knees bent, arms perfectly prepped for a turn…

And he stumbled.

Well, this was a good start.

Perhaps if he tried tightening his core… He took a deep breath, trying the turn again. Less wobbling this time, at least. He focused intently on the wall, quickly turning his head back as he pushed himself up into the turn.

Was this really working? His pirouettes were hardly perfect, but most of the wobbling had stopped. Was this really paying off?

Again and again he practiced the turn, until he found himself getting dizzy. He stood for a moment, his head spinning and his breath ragged. Was he doing better? It was still hard to tell, but in a way he was on cloud nine. Exhausted and sore, yes, but this was somehow the best he had felt in ages. To think that, all this time while he was practicing and wearing himself down, he had no worries or problems beyond how to fix this blasted turn. As strange as it felt to say this about training alone in the studio at night, he felt happy.

But now he had something new to work towards, and he couldn't afford to slack off.

~~~

“So it’s working out well, right? Not too girly or anything?” Cyrus asked, a bit of hesitance in his voice. This was his dumb suggestion, after all, and he didn't want his dumb suggestion making things worse for Jackson.

Jackson, on the other hand, seemed to be beaming. “Should I show off just how well it has been going?”

“By all means.” Cyrus sat back a little a little, eyes intently focused on his lover as he got up. Jackson carefully positioned himself in the middle of the studio, facing away from Cyrus. Then the music started: to Cyrus’s shock, not something classical, but instead Death of a Bachelor.

“Huh, what’s thi-” Cyrus’s remark was cut short by Jackson springing to life. He seemed as if he was one with the music, his every small movement matching up with the steady beat of the song, smooth and slow. He almost seemed to be floating just above the floor.

And then the music suddenly picked up.

Jackson kicked his leg high up into the air, bending his back until his leg almost formed a straight line with the other, and just as effortlessly it feel back down and he resumed his dance. Cyrus didn't even know Jackson could do that. But before the shock of that impressive move had even worn off, Jackson had already moved on to a turn, spinning around in such a graceful manner. And the jumps! It seemed so natural to him, as if he had been able to fly since he was born and this was as easy as breathing. It was as if he had somehow become another instrument in the song, willed forward by its tempo.

The song slowed again, and so did his motions, light and weightless. He gracefully stepped forward, sliding down to one knee in front of Cyrus. He had stopped trying to hide the fact that his jaw had dropped. Jackson caught his breath, smiling back up at Cyrus.

“Well?”

“Holy shit.” Cyrus was still struggling to pick up his jaw from the floor. “You’ve really only been working on this for that long?”

Cyrus shifted off his knee, sitting himself next to Cyrus again. “I wanted to show you something good,” he said, completely cavalier. Cyrus had to wonder if he realized just what he looked like out there. “Does that answer your question?”

Cyrus nodded, bewildered. “How much work did it take to do that? You know, that thing-”

Jackson chuckled a bit. “That I’m keeping secret. But did you like it, is the real question.”

“How could I not?” Cyrus scooted closer to Jackson, taking the other man into his arm. The look on his face wasn't just because he was distracted by his legs, that much was for sure.

This earned another brilliant smile from Jackson. “So you don't regret it after all, do you?”

Cyrus looked weary, but he held Jackson a little tighter. “Listen, I was so worried dragging you into this whole girly mess-”

“Do you really think I would have minded?” Jackson’s voice was as smooth as honey. Damn this man for being so charming. “I don’t worry about that, not with you, nor with myself. And I have no intention of starting, either.”

Cyrus swore he could feel his heart melt. He didn't even realize that was possible. “You… I really do love you.”

He could have sworn that Jackson’s laugh was pure gold. He rested his head against Cyrus’a chest.