Bodyguard 9

With dialogue from @the_realSammyP

Looking back, Alexa would always remember her seventeenth birthday better than her eighteenth. By eighteen it was hard to focus on anything, much less attention from those in court who wanted her attention to mock, flirt or be seen with her. By eighteen she had gained, with Chevalier, object-status. By eighteen Chevalier had replaced Emily as Bodyguard nine. La Chanson was louder now, becoming insistent. Distracting. She loved Chevalier, of course she loved him - she’d been climbing the seven foot automaton since she could climb. He’d been present her whole life, there the day she was born. He was, in every sense of the word: family. Just as she would do anything for Grandmère, Maman ou Papa, so too would she do anything for Chevalier. 

She loved him, so she’d only run away from him a few times - a few dozen at most. With Emily gone, she’d just wanted to be alone. Unlike Emily though, or any of the others, Chevalier hadn’t chased or hunted her, or even seemed to be concerned when she hid from him. No, the most frustrating thing about Chevalier was that he always seemed to know where she was going, even when she did not. There were days she would disappear across the city, only to be drawn to a temple and…there was Chevalier, sitting outside, seemingly unconcerned by those around trying not to look at him. Sullenly turning a corner, she would be approaching the gentle sound of a flautist and there would be Chevalier, dropping coins in a hat. Swing between trees closer to home (very much forbidden these days - she was grateful he never told Maman) and he would be sitting in a clearing nearby, patiently waiting for her to decide she was ready to talk to him.

He wasn’t Emily, but she loved him. So one day she simply sat beside him on a low wall outside the bounds of home, bells pealing in the distance, and sighed. The Song had taken up permanent residence and hummed to the sound of the wind in nearby trees.

“Chevalier,” she began. He tilted a white masked face toward her but said nothing. “How do you know?” The mask didn’t change, but in the time it took him to respond and the further tilt of his head, she could tell he was amused. A cluster of boys her age looked on appraisingly, but her attention was on Chevalier, and she noticed nothing.

“You bear a remarkable resemblance to your Grandmère,” he intoned. One of the young men leaned against a nearby wall. Chevalier likely noted his distance and intent. Alexandrie noticed nothing of the sort.

“Did she come here?” Alexa looked out, looking at the architecture, enjoying the acoustics of the space. The boy, seeing his chance, flexed. Alexa smiled faintly at him and looked away. Victory. For him, anyway.

“Your Grandmère loves nature and music. She has been to all the same places you run to.” Alexandrie frowned at that.

“All of them?”

“Yes, she used to climb that tree. Why do you think it is there?” Alexandrie had heard so many stories about Grandmère’s travels, about the adventures she’d had. She had rarely been told, or asked for that matter, about things back home.

“I didn’t know she was the reason it’s there.” She thought for a moment, her gaze drifting off across the square. The boy moved closer. Alexa frowned slightly. He moved back.

“When she got back, after… and La Chanson was gone… how did she manage?” The masked automaton dipped his head slightly, almost but not quite nodding.

“It was… difficult. Your Grandpère helped a lot.” Her frown deepened and she clasped one hand in the other, worrying at a nail.

“What if…what if she didn’t have Grandpère. Do you think she would have been alright? If she hadn’t met him?”

"I don't know. After your Grandmère returned home for good things were... hard... for her. She hid it well, but we, her friends, could tell. I didn't know what to do. It was like she was slowly sinking into a pit and all I could do was slow the decent, but no matter what I tried, I could not help her out of the pit.

But then your Grandpère came into her life. I was wary of him at first. Many people were interested in your Grandmère for her wealth or her status or her fame. But he was different. He didn't care about any of that. It was… it was like he got into the pit with her and just stayed there until she was ready to come out. So I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't met your Grandpère and to be honest, to this day I am grateful I did not have to find out."

Alexandrie sat in silence for a long time thinking about this. Everyday La Chanson made her more aware of the bounds of the city. Every day it felt a little smaller, as if it was closing in on her - or perhaps she was outgrowing it.

If - when she left, she could not guarantee she would return, but if - if she did, and she failed in what La Chanson asked, she could also not guarantee she would have someone like Grandpère who would sit in the pit with her.

These were the days before she knew Chevalier would come with her. So she said nothing in reply to his words, instead taking his hand. The boy knew better than to try his luck. Perhaps another day.

“I’d like to go home now, please.”