marquisvincentdegramont

[marquisvincentdegramont]

Avantika wearing SIMONE ROCHA – Polyesterzine

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

beach read by emily henry

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏𝕍: 𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @kavalyera for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent makes his case to retain control of the Myrmidons.

TW: minor character death, discussion of slavery

The sun had not yet found the time to bleach away the final traces of the crimson pool that had darkened the Castel Sant’Angelo’s bridge four days ago. Not that there was any red clinging to the cobblestones. It was, rather, a little shinier, a little cleaner, where Santino D’Antonio’s body had lain, in contrast to the surrounding stones. No other evidence remained under the golden glow of mid-morning, and in the distance, commuter traffic played an indifferent hum, hardly knowing how the underworld held its breath.

The Marquis toed at that polished spot before taking his seat at the black marble conference table that had been hauled out to the midway point of the bridge. Chidi took up a stand behind him, feet planted and hands clasped, his steady presence backing up his Marquis in every way possible. He could almost feel Vincent buzzing with nerves, longing to expel them in some biting way. “You know, all the cleansers my people use at cultural sites are approved for historical preservation,” said Vincent to Sr. D’Antonio conversationally. They’d both been careful to arrive a few minutes early. “Such as those which lift the grime from the surface of oil paintings. Nothing harsh enough to bite into the stone. Conservation is of the utmost importance in such cases, don’t you think?”

“That ‘grime’ was my son.”

“How true. That absolute smear of grime was your son.” Chidi had to stifle a laugh.

But The Harbinger tapped his watch meaningfully, as distant bells began to chime. “Gentlemen. The clock tolls nine. The time has come to present the case. But first, Sr. D’Antonio, please remind all present of the terms by which the Marquis must abide, should the ruling be cast in your favor.”

With his eyes narrowed in open contempt: “The Marquis must surrender forty percent of the Myrmidon army to the High Table at large.”

“Very well. And the Marquis? If you are acquitted?”

He shrugged. “Sr. D’Antonio has slandered myself and my family. He will die.”

From their seat beside The Harbinger, The Adjudicator nodded evenly. “I accept these terms on behalf of the High Table.”

“Wait – “

“Do you withdraw your claims, Sr. D’Antonio?” they asked.

Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat. “…No.”

“Very well,” said The Harbinger. “Sr. D’Antonio, please present your case.”

Giovanni had selected legal representation in the form of some droning bureaucrat Chidi had never seen before, who laid out the same points Giovanni had stated a few days ago. He used more words and examples but not, to Chidi’s mind, any more persuasive force. But then, Chidi was only halfway listening. Without turning his head, he’d focused his attention on the long parade of armored cars filing into the Castel’s parking lot, and grey-suited figures climbing out of each one, settling into formation at the end of the bridge.

The plaintiffs certainly did turn their heads. Their own cars were blocked in, and the entire entrance surrounded. Vincent’s people had closed off the street for several blocks in advance of the operation. By the time the second squad took up position, Giovanni’s representative faltered mid-sentence and Giovanni himself demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”

“They’re my witnesses,” said Vincent. “Please, do go on.” He gave the prosecutor the kind of encouraging smile typically offered to precocious elementary students in the midst of rehearsing for a school play. The man stuttered indignantly for a moment, but there was little he could do except oblige.

Chidi looked down at his charge. Vincent sat with studied grace, shoulders squared and legs crossed, face impassible, silver strands glittering through the pale blue of his blazer like shooting stars at noon in a cloudless sky. Impossibly beautiful. He’d had so little time to share happiness with this perfect man, and now it was all threatened…his nerves strained so taut with sympathy for Vincent that time itself seemed to distort. Had thirty minutes really not passed yet? Or were ten minutes passing each time he blinked? Either way, the moment approached. The prosecution would end, and Vincent would make his stand.

And then he was standing up, the moment had come, and Chidi felt like his own knees might buckle. Only focusing on Vincent’s body, the every rise and fall of his chest, kept Chidi upright. He’s here in front of me. We’re okay, nothing bad has happened yet. We can win this. And either way…we’re together. Vincent shot him an almost imperceptible glance and both men felt the same surge of confidence. For once, Vincent didn’t have to face his battles alone. If you only knew what it means to me to be here for you in a moment like this, sir…

“Well.” Vincent broke into a slow clap. “That was very entertaining. But I notice that we haven’t heard from a single Myrmidon. It’s their lives in question, no? And the last thing I would want is for any Myrmidon to feel like a slave. Because, as we’ve discussed, Sr. D’Antonio, we all know what that feels like. So, let’s have the conversation.” He turned to the crowd, from which a young, low-ranking Myrmidon was running up with a microphone. “Thank you,” said Vincent, glowing with magnanimity, his honeyed voice now flowing across the crowd even to the far end of the parking lot.

“My friends. My siblings. My children.” Vincent paced from one railing to the other, slow and pondering, forcing the plaintiffs’ necks to crane after him. “Every one of you has someone you care for deeply. My father called them ‘leashes.’ And they are. To love is to be bound. But it is a grave misunderstanding to think that this binding comes from any external threat. In my short time in leadership, I have learned that every person’s desires carry the leash. No one else can do so. You want what’s best for the people you love. And you want what’s best for yourselves. That’s what rules you, not me. So I happen to offer myself as a path to a better life. That’s all. And I want to clarify, above all, that if you don’t take it, fine. I won’t kill you and I won’t kill anybody you love. I don’t need to. Regret will kill you. The world will kill you. Maybe even your wrongs against me will end up killing you. You spill a High Table secret, you piss off the people who care for me with your blatant disrespect, you cross me myself, and I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you. I don’t want things to be that way.”

Hundreds of eyes followed him, some lighting with hope, some unreadable, some internally seething. But none moved. How surreal, Chidi thought. If they all mutinied at once, they could kill Vincent and Chidi both. But they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about this choice. You could try to find a ‘normal life,’ you who have already been cast out once before…”

“Or you could stay. I protect you from your own kings and presidents. I treat you like my own family, because you are loyal to me. Do you want to be a citizen of the United States, of Russia, of China, of Afghanistan, of Chile, of all the so-called governments who try to govern us out of existence and fail, who promise so little, just a peaceful life, and don’t even deliver on that, no matter how loyal you are? Do you want to live under the High Table at large, which demands fealty regardless, from every living person, no matter whether you are aware of it or not? Or do you want to live under the Gramont branch, where your needs will be looked after and all that is expected of you in return is the fulfillment of your own greatness? Yes, sometimes, that will include acting as a soldier, as every citizen is asked to do. But I, personally, will protect you against petty disputes because no one kills our own, even in revenge. I will see that you get justice for the grievances against you, because our boot is on their throat and not the other way around. I will always put a roof over your head, and most likely, it will be richer than anything the world’s most promising financiers could earn for themselves in a whole lifetime. I will clothe you and feed you with exactly as much decadence as befits any servant of mine. I will give to you what you need to be the peak performers in the entire world. I will take care of you when you are sick – no fees, no questions asked, just care. I will honor you in your old age and memorialize you when you die. And yes, most importantly, I will do the same for the person you love most. Because love is the true motivator. We are a family. We are a sick fucking family who will kill and die and live for each other, and no one will ever understand us, and no one will ever stand against us.”

“Now, my children: you are going to walk past me one by one. And either you will kiss the ring of your parrain [godfather], with The Adjudicator and Harbinger as witnesses, thereby acknowledging that you understand yourself to be a free citizen, swearing to serve me for the benefits I offer…Or you will pass me by, and we’ll be nothing to each other. You’re free! You’ve always been free. Do what you want to do.”

Chidi was the first, of course. Leaving his mark before anyone else could touch that malleable fleck of gold. Taking Vincent’s hand to his lips and bowing low, looking up at his chosen master through the bars of his own lashes, and reading there the gratitude, the wonder, the benevolence, which ignited in response. The love answering to love.

He lingered, to be sure that no onlooker could mistake such devotion for mere discharge of duty. And then he took his place on the other side of the bridge and turned back, facing down the whole of the Myrmidon army, daring any of them to reject the man for whom he had just shown such affection. They’d have to stand right next to him afterwards. Come challenge the Marquis’ most loyal guard dog. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. Maybe not today, not in front of the judges, but one day, and you know it. Love itself has granted me the power.

So they filed on, through the crystalline autumn sunshine, by the dozens and then the hundreds. The day wore on. And they kissed Vincent, and kissed him, and kissed him. A whole army showered him with kisses while he smiled on them. Chidi made them do it, without saying a word.

It was afternoon by the time the whole affair came to a close. Vincent was sweaty and his hair spray had begun to wilt under the heat, but he was beaming. Not one person had passed him by. He sank back into his chair, sighing. “I rest my case.” Only Chidi could see how earnestly he was smiling, or make out the note of restrained buoyancy he held down at the bottom of his voice. Oh Vincent…have we made you emotional?

Again, their eyes caught across the crowd. Both were sparkling.

The Adjudicator, who had long ago shed their heavy black coat and gloves, rose with both draped neatly over their arm. “Impressive. I’ll begin by stating that anyone who can command such loyalty is an asset to the High Table. This has been instructive in understanding why the Myrmidons function so formidably. More to the point, it has been instructive on the topic of their employment and its true nature. I can now confidently offer a ruling. The Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont is acquitted.”

For the second time, Giovanni interrupted in protest. “You can’t be serious! This is entirely outside the spirit of the law. Surely you of all people understand that these traditions were set forth to preserve the integrity of the High Table as a whole, and all its constituents.”

From the end of the bridge, Chidi watched Vincent’s figure turn on him coldly. “I would remind you of what you told me just three days ago: that when business was good for my family, it was always good for yours, and good for the Table. The Gramont seat is by far the highest earning. I would even go so far as to say we’ve personally bankrolled your operation in the Netherlands. Nobody, Sr. D’Antonio, wants the Myrmidons eradicated. Rather, it is you who put a personal vendetta above the good of the Table. And no one, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, is above the Table.”

“But this is a farce! These people have no choice, they – “

The Adjudicator quickly put a stop to the squabbling. “Silence. The spirit of the law is not in question. The letter is. If the letter doesn’t match the spirit, that is to be brought to the attention of the Elder through the proper channels (though of course, the Marquis speaks quite rightly in suggesting that the Elder has little reason to wish for the Myrmidons’ dispersal). For the time being, the letter of the law is fully intact. The Myrmidons have every right to leave without facing any immediate deaths as retaliation, either their own or their loved ones’, so I consider this matter settled. Let the decision be carried out.”

He fell into confusion then, as fundamentally confused men do when their luck has run out, shouting desperate things that all ran together. But the Myrmidons had already closed around him – the Marquis’ personal detail specifically, with Chidi among them, in a tight circle of grey suits and one blue. A dozen guns fired at once into the chest of the man who had tried to interpose between Vincent and those who ought to adore him. Tomorrow, the stones of the Castel Sant’Angelo bridge would be even more thoroughly polished.

They walked away with shoulders nearly touching and not caring that the whole army might see how close they stood. Who could call open affection anything but a strength after it granted Vincent such a victory? Vincent wiped some thousand kisses off his ring with a handkerchief and whispered, “Quand nous serons seuls, toi et toi seul l'embrasserez à nouveau. Compris? [When we’re alone, you and you only will kiss it again. Understood?]”

“Oui, Maître. [Yes, Master.]”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One | Two...I've had this saved for so long that I truly can't find its source anymore, I'm sorry. But I think it was from Pinterest.

[marquisvincentdegramont]

Vampy Lip; {Credit}

[marquisvincentdegramont]

Victor’s dead. Everything’s got a price.