Bastian

According to the notice on the door of the chapel, the funeral was set to start at noon. Unhurriedly, Bastian pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and looked at his wristwatch. Fifteen minutes until the scheduled time.

The crows descended from the lofty sky, their wings gliding down to embrace the desolate cemetery.  Bastian looked up at the cathedral. Despite its crumbling appearance, it still held a certain elegant charm. Its grand past, coupled with its humble present only served to deepen the feeling of despair it gave off. It was certainly a fitting position to oversee the passing of a beggar.

The place looked absolutely deserted and Bastian wondered if Odette had done this on purpose to save spending a penny of his fortune. He flipped up the collar of his raincoat, the air was getting thick with dampness and it was going to rain at any second. He exhaled a thick stream of smoke, his eyes fixed on the chapel.

   Word of Duke Dyssen’s passing reached him almost as soon as he stepped foot on the docks. He was handed the obituary via telegram and he decided to grab the fastest staff car and make his way here. The telegram had come from Admiral Demel and clearly a directive from the Emperor.

Odette’s father passed away. It took awhile for Bastian to properly comprehend the news and on the journey up, he found he had to laugh. Duke Dyssen had shown unwavering consistency right until the last. 

   Bastian exhaled another puff of his cigarette, his cynicism fueled by the weed-covered cemeteries in the backdrop. Despite his passing having uprooted his plans, the inconvenience of it was negligible. The passage of events will ultimately remain unchanged, Bastian would just need to take a minor detour. Still, the thought of having to wade through unsavoury events again remained a burden.

   The emperor had bestowed upon his hero a reward of marriage with very little justification, but in the reality of it was mundane and inconsequential. Nothing had changed really. The fate of this bargain was sealed when the emperor arranged their union a repayment of a debt owed by the woman’s father.

   Where was the honour in have a wife of high-born lineage?

   Bastian rhythmically puffed on his cigarette and approached the chapel doors again. Memories of Lady Odette, who was only tolerated in higher circles because of her borrowed clothes, surfaced briefly before the dilapidated ruins. Had she hailed from a real imperial family, Duke Dyssen wouldn’t be sent away in such an undignified manner. 

The royal family no longer needed her.

 Faced with that evidence, Bastian found himself rather relaxed. Seeing the emperor urging him to act as her husband at the funeral, he seemed to regret leaving his niece in such a mess. It would make divorce much easier for him, so there’s no reason why he can’t be the emperor’s dog once more at this time.

He stepped into the role with full awareness. It was a strategic move in dealing with the emperor and its rewards were soon to materialize. It would also allow him the opportunity to question his recent doubts in his overseas service.

   Bastian tossed away the cigarette butt and replaced his cap on his head. His cold, thick and dark eyes mirrored the gray clouds pregnant with rain.

Letting out a smoky sigh, he made his way to the chapel entrance. Noontime had arrived,  the time had come for him to adopt the roll of grieving and supporting husband to a beggar princess.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

When the noon bell rang, the funeral ceremony began. Alma had been dozing off and was suddenly disturbed from her sleep by the sound.

   Odette shifted and adjusted so that she could provide a more comfortable support for the sleepy child. Satisfied, Alma murmured as she fell back asleep

Maximin sat behind them and watched. Alma was secure in Odette’s arms and showed no signs of ever falling off the bench. The child was quite fond of Odette, despite their not being related and the families not being that close.

   “Come here Alma, sit with Daddy.” The Count said, making his way around the bench so that he could take Alma, but when Alma stirred and realised what was going on, burrowed herself deeper into Odette’s arms.

   “It’s okay,” said Odette. I’ll hand her over to you when she fall asleep” her whisper blended harmoniously with the organ’s melodious tune.

   “Okay, I guess  I’ll trouble you in a bit,” he said, taking a seat next to Odette. It was considered a faux-pas, but it was better than having to disturb the ceremony with a screaming child. “I shouldn’t have brought her, please accept my apology, I wasn’t thinking.” 

Odette gave Maximin a little smile,”No, I’m glad I have Alma. I’m also grateful for your consideration.”

   It didn’t seem right that Maximin was sitting next to Odette when Tira was condemned to the back benches just because she was an illegitimate child. Odette tried to convince the church to let Tira sit with her, but they refused to break with custom. Tira was humble in accepting the reality of the situation, she seemed a little relieved not to associate herself with Duke Dyssen.

   That left Odette to sit at the front of the ceremony alone, guarding the empty seats as the lone heir. If it had not been for Alma, who was practically Odette’s shadow at this point, it might have been a much colder ordeal.

   “It seems the stubborn young lady has finally fallen asleep, I’ll take her back now,” Maximin said.

   Odette very carefully shifted the small bundle of Alma into her fathers arms. She murmured a little, but did not wake from her sleep.

   It was at that moment that the doors of the chapel opened and a tall man in a naval uniform stood at the threshold. 

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

The pipe organ stopped its sonorous droll and the whole chapel looked to see Bastian making his way down the aisle.

   He strode as if he didn’t have a care in the world, taking in the shabby chapel interior, which was a little more well kept than he would have thought, given the state of the exterior and stopped at the coffin to pay his respects. He could smell the abundance of lilies before he saw them flooded in the coffin with the deceased Duke.

Duke Dyssen lay peacefully in the center, his figure looking better than Bastian had seen in ages. What pleased Bastian most was the absence of his boisterous voice that had once tormented him—was now silenced for eternity.

   “I’m Bastian Klauswitz, I’m sorry for my tardiness,” Bastian excused himself to the priest, who just looked at him.

   “You are Lady Odette’s husband? We are just glad that you could make it,” the priest said with a benevolent smile, giving him the lily for the offering.

   The mournful organ continued its hymnal as Bastian placed the flower before Duke Dyssen’s portrait. Odette felt the scene was like a surreal dream until he turned his gaze to her seat.

Bastian turned his attention to towards the family’ seat and Their eyes met briefly in the soft, flickering candlelight. Odette held her breath and her hands together.  Bastian’s face looked sharper and tougher, reflecting the last two years of his journey with mature features. His fair sun-kissed skin and serene eyes serve as a testament to the obvious change.

   My husband is back? But how? Odette said to herself.

   It took awhile for Odette to work up the courage to look at her husband’s face. She remained transfixed on the gold buttons, engraved with the naval insignia upon their domed surface. When there was no other way to deny the fact that Bastian was really here, she looked up into his face.

   She had been transfixed on this moment for a long time, wondering what it would be like to see Bastian again after so long. She had made numerous assumptions about what he would do or say to her, but the result was always the same: hatred and contempt. She humbly prepared herself to accept it, but the confusion caused by him was like the calm surface of a lake, getting deeper and deeper.

   Odette stared into his clear blue eyes, which could not discern any emotions, she rose from her seat and turned to face him. Without saying a single thing, Bastian only giving her a silent salute, Odette reciprocated with a curtsey. It was hard to identify any signs of surprise or embarrassment in either of them.

   Bastian looked passed Odette to the man that had the audacity to sit in his seat and recalled the name of a botanist that was raising his child on his own, Maximin von Xanders. 

He was still holding a sleeping girl in his arms. He recalled that he was one of Odette’s new friends named in the detective’s reports he had read. The friendship must be greater than he had initially guessed, for him to so brazenly break common courtesy.

   Bastian returned his cynical eye to Odette. She was a very wicked woman, already looking for the next man to leech off of. His snide thoughts slipped from his mind as Odette lifted her mourning vail, slowly revealing a slender neck, plump, sorrowful lips and the cutest little nose. The fire burning in his mind quenched.

   Odette rested the vail over her hat and she looked up at the cross hanging in front of the stain glassed window, above where her father lay. Bastian was willing to face those mournful, turquoise eyes, it was a reunion that was more than than expected.