Amor Vincit Omnia (✓)

♕ Chapter 13

After a fortnight of utter indifference on behalf of Julian, Freya had a sudden, heart-constricting flashback of the elder's funeral. She could not attend her mother's funeral, but was keenly aware of the general atmosphere.

What she failed to acknowledge at the time prior to the ceremony was that Julian had a tad too much glasses of whisky. He was not the typical knackered bloke, but the level of alcohol did unleash his wrath regarding his father. After the priest ended the prayers and invited the Duke to honour the elder's memory with a speech, Julian simply removed a mini-bottle of whisky from the inner pocket of his coat and dropped its content on the wood-sculpted coffin, stating in a tone that could have even set spirits free:

"Your pride spared me of the misery caused by our blood liaison. It is a merry day, father. Cheers as well."

Neither of the guests had the imprudence of speaking afterwards. A deadly silence – imagine the irony – was reinforced in the graveyard, making Freya doubt her ability to mould Julian. It seemed like he had not changed at all, if he were able to stain a man's death – despite the shared hatred.

He soon retreated to his office, locked the door and rested there for a couple of days before reconnecting with his peers. Those nights spent alone were not only dreadful for Freya, but also scattered with nightmares. It occured to the Duchess that her demons – the other ones, still unexpelled by Julian – withered only when sleeping next to her husband.

At the end of the grim fortnight, a new kind of storm consumed the grounds of the Duchy. Freya simply had enough of Julian's tantrums.

Twilight was settling in when the Duke entered the bedchamber while removing his tie. He did not even notice his wife leaning against the wall, her arms crossed tightly, her lips pursed in a thin line.

"May I have your attention, milord, or shall I make an appointment first?" Her bitter voice may not have been appropriate for a safe conversation, but her nerves were ceding as well and she needed as much comfort as she offered herself.

Julian heaved deeply, cursing his arrival. Why didn't he remain in his office?

"What?" His voice was neutral and he only half-heard his wife's protests. There was no need for losing his last ounce of sanity.

"Don't shut me down, you prick! I stood by your side in your darkest moments, and you never did the same! You caused my nightmares, you insensitive selfish wanker! I thought we would be each other's shelter, but apparently you had other plans!" Freya felt hot tears gliding down her cheeks as she gazed at Julian's back, who refused to return her scrutiny.

"You were not obliged to comfort me." The Duke retorted, his voice steel-toned.

"Well, excuse me for caring, alright? What can I do if I cannot control my heart? Yes, I care for you more than any of us could fathom, but don't I deserve at last a quarter of the empathy I gave you?! I had restless nights thinking about ending your misery, hours and hours of compiling methods of easing your pain. And you, what did you do? You took everything for granted, instead of appreciating me and returning my love!"

Apparently, Julian had enough as well. He spun on his heels, rushed to Freya and brutally cornered her. His touch did no physical harm, but her heart was already shattered to unretrievable pieces.

"Your love?! I told you I cannot return such emotions, I told you I cannot love you!"

"Fine, but at least be my friend! Friends mutually help each other, they don't sit around doing nothing and expecting everything! I needed you as well and you abandoned me! You left me all alone with my nightmares!"