Jasper went directly home after leaving Cecil McMillan's, and it seemed only now that he was certain Broderick would be brought back to him, the sound of the hard pound of his heart could clearly be heard in his ears. More anger than ever had enclosed around him the whole day, and now that he was finally returning home, he could feel absolutely every fiery pore of his skin burn with so much ire. The anger he felt for the world, for Broderick, and even for himself controlled the heat of the flame trapped inside his body, but now it was at last beginning to extinguish.
Once the coach came to a stop at the head of the pavement before the manor, the Master got down from inside and climbed the solid steps to the large, front doorway. Wade opened them for him, but he did not enter. "You go in," Jasper said instead. "I will await his return."
Wade looked out at the vastness of the land that expanded the northern scenery. The sun was still fairly high in the sky, and the puffy clouds from the days before were more spread out now, less gray than they'd been prior to the rain. It would be a little while until Broderick was taken from the jailhouse, but if Jasper wanted to wait, then Wade would not interfere with his decision.
After all, he was home now.
Once Wade disappeared inside, Jasper sat down at the top of the steps, hugging his arms around the bend of his knees, and he rested his chin atop them as well. He didn't know what the first thing was that he'd do when Broderick stood before him. Would he kiss the other man, embrace him, or slap him for being so ready to die? Jasper was glad Lucian was able to return to Simon, and he could say he was happy now that Cecil was going to make certain Broderick Thorne no longer had to serve his execution. But the absolute fear that had taken over his mind still dwelled inside him.
And such a feeling had been something Jasper never wanted to feel again. To think that the person you loved was going to die, it was not a pleasant thought in the least, and it disrupted the Master's heart that such a sensation had entered his life for a second time.
Now he could only wait, and the minutes that drifted into slow, antagonizing hours was on the verge of spiraling Jasper into insanity. He could not take waiting, it was something he had done for ten years: waited for the heartache he'd felt for Elijah to fade, waited until that promise of 'for now' was fulfilled, and now he was damned to wait yet again, but this time for something he knew was on its way in an arranged fashion.
Enable for Broderick's execution to be suspended and for him to be freed, Cecil McMillan had to go back into the courthouse and display yet another case, and while the city would more than likely view him as foolish for setting a known killer free, the process could be handed down by the judge's own decision.
As Jasper sat beneath the rays of the sun, he wondered what was going through Broderick's mind. Would Cecil tell him why he was being given another stand in court? The longer the Master waited, the more anxious he got. All he wanted was to see a horse-drawn transport being pulled up his path.
Merely watching the shadows grow longer as the sun made its descent, Jasper did not move from his spot, only looked behind him when he heard the door come open. Darcy and Juliette exited the manor, both dressed pretty in their respectable gowns, hair done up, and in their arms, they each held an alert little baby. Darcy took a seat beside her husband, their son cradled in her motherly arms as Eloise was comforted in Juliette's. The two women said nothing for a moment, just let the clouds pass overhead as they, too, watched the light of the day fade into the evening.
"He's coming back," Jasper said then, breaking the silence, yet his voice sounded awfully stoic as he spoke. "As I sat in on his trial, I recognized the judge as being one living upon the land I offered him years back. I told him I would put him and his family out on the streets if he did not free Broderick. Does that make me a horrible person?"
Always on Jasper's side and no one else's, Darcy shook her head. "Absolutely not," she said, "That makes you a smart man. You know you can use your resources against others. The judge would have been a fool not to abide by your demands."
The Master looked off to his right, a slim smile coming to his lips when he looked upon his daughter. She stared curiously at him and she giggled when he touched a mild finger to her cheek. "And I would use all I have to protect what we have here. Broderick is strong, and I have no doubt that he could fight for each of us, but it is my name that holds all of the influence. To keep us safe, that is my responsibility."
Suddenly Jasper found himself thanking the cruelty of a great majority of his past relatives, for they had been the ones to plant such fright into the name of Lancechester. His great grandfather, Kristian Lancechester, had been foreboding, cruel to all, and built a haunting image of himself from the slaughter of his entire staff, and the hatred he'd felt for the village that lived below his home. The man before him, Christopher Lancechester, had governed the deaths of pirates that dared to near the shores of the eastern seaboard. Bram Lancechester, the man before him, had been mostly known as Red Bram for the amount of blood that would stain his hands after tearing out the eyes of his enemies, and of course there were those who'd served in the Queen's council during her reign in 1558 to 1603, and then the bloodline of his family that had been nobles and knights during the prior reigns of the monarchs.
While there was resentment he felt towards his family, it was everyone who came before him that gave him the authority he had today, and he hoped as he looked upon his children, that they would not have to rely on the madness crafted by their surname. He hoped the world would not be so hostile in the years to come.
When Jasper looked from his children back out to the horizon, he witnessed as a coach pulled by two black horses began to approach the manor. "You two take the babies inside," he said, "I would like to have a word with him in private first."
Darcy and Juliette pressed kisses to either side of the Master's cheeks and did as requested. Once he was alone again, he stood and crossed his arms as the coach drew nearer. A chill in the air was beginning to fall further over Banemount given the time of year, but most of his chill originated from the idea of standing face to face with Broderick yet again.
As if he were a small statue standing before his massive manor, Jasper didn't move until the dark brown crafted coach rolled up before the steps below.
The handler got down from on top and opened the door, and Broderick emerged from inside. Still dressed as he had been in his dark attire, black, curling hair to his broad shoulders, the man was the only one to step out and then the door to the coach was closed, and the handler climbed back up to start off again.
Jasper gazed down at the dark-haired man, a sort of coldness in his eyes. He breathed in, quiet relief filling his lungs like a spring breeze. He remained unmoved as Broderick began to climb the steps, and when they were face to face, the other man having stayed one step lower than the Master, he opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off on the spot when Jasper smacked a firm hand across his face.
Broderick was stunned by the quick slap, his cheek stinging, but he took the hit he felt was justified. He swallowed then and made to speak once more, but was stopped yet again by a second slap to the other cheek.
The Master's throat felt tight all over again, and his ocean gaze shimmered against the orange hue of the skyline. His hands stung from the slaps, and he had to hold himself back from doing it again.
Wishing this wasn't a moment he felt like crying, Jasper couldn't help it when the tears began to fall anyways, but these were not the same as the ones he'd released last night, or ever before in his life. Never had he cried tears of liberation, and yet, as he stood with Broderick before him, that was exactly how he felt. This was not sadness spewing from his heart, it was amnesty and contentment.
The next time Jasper raised his hands to Broderick, he cupped his face with both hands, and they were tender this time around. "You bastard," he said, "You complete and utter bastard."
Broderick took the final step up the stairs and took Jasper into his arms. He was not embraced in return, but that did not bother him. He simply held on to this beautiful man that encompassed his all. "I'm sorry," he said, able to feel the slight shivering of Jasper's body. "I'm sorry, Jasper. I will not ask for your forgiveness, but know I am truly regretful for what I have made you feel yet again."
Jasper's fingers closed into fists at the back of Broderick's black shirt, and he buried his nose into the chest he was embraced against. Looking up then, his tearful eyes were met by the passions of Broderick's, and he attempted to control the franticness of his breathing so he could speak. "Don't you ever," he said, "ever do that to me again, you hear me? I woke up and you weren't there. I woke up and you were gone, Broderick, gone from my side as you made to never come back."
"I'm sorry."
"Shut up," Jasper trembled, "I love you, Broderick, and I think you do not understand the full extent of what I mean when I say those words. I have my family, yes, I have Darcy and Juliette and Ava, my babies, but you are such a significant piece to that portrait, and just the notion, the tease of losing you fractured me like a stone dropped upon the surface of a mirror. You hurt me, Broderick."
The dark-haired man brought a mild hand to Jasper's face, touching his cheek so delicately, it was as though he were handling an glinting piece of reflection in his hand. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, lips so close to the Master's. "What do you want to hear?"
"Tell me you love me," Jasper said, his breaths coming out in tremors.
"I love you."
"Tell me you will stay with me."
"I will never leave your side again," Broderick touched their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing one another.
"Always?" Jasper inquired in a near whisper.
"Always," Broderick felt as the secure hold on him loosened, the fists at the back of his shirt becoming more at ease.
"I can't do that again, Broderick," Jasper expressed. "My body, my soul cannot take another loss, and I cannot be with someone who will do such a thing to me. What you did, I understand it, I do, but you mustn't leave me again. I don't want to be in love with someone who will rip themselves from my arms. You nearly tore me apart."
"But I am here now," Broderick said, tipping the Master's chin up so their eyes would meet. "And I am here to stay by your side. Forever, for eternity, always, Jasper, this place is where I will stay."
"Kiss me," Jasper's voice hardly sounded, but Broderick heard him nonetheless and fulfilled the plea. Their lips were brought together then, and Jasper basked in the evening wash of the world all around them. The passion that burned so brightly inside of him was the sun to a cloudless day, the rays of this internal sun filled his being with all the warmth in the world, and this warmth came with a name: Love. And it was a classification he knew so well. While it seemed no one could come forward to explain what exactly love was, Jasper was able to understand everything there was about the emotion that many people could claim to fully comprehend.
Love.
What was it in the simplest explanation?
That was what stopped anyone from discovering the truest meaning of it. There were no proper words, not a sentence, not a paragraph that could simply put love into a definition, and Jasper knew this. Love was not a bundle of words. Love had feelings, a voice, a face. Love walked and breathed, could hear and feel. Love was a living being and had a mind, was born and reborn over and over again, in different places, shapes, sizes, and colors. Love was...
Broderick Thorne.
And it had so many other names in other parts of the world, did not reside in just one single place, but, right now, as it stood before him, love was a man with jade green eyes, jet black, curly hair, was a man that stood taller than him with a voice both husky in the morning, and evenly tuned during the day, and his embrace was what held the Master together when the cracks in his frame felt weak.
When the kiss was broken, Jasper opened his eyes to the wonderful face of this man who defined love in front of him.
"Come," Broderick stepped around him, taking the Master's hand to direct him inside. "I don't want you to catch a chill out here."
With his hand held behind Broderick as he followed, Jasper went along into the manor, and the doors were shut once they entered. Without a word, the dark-haired man led them to the stairs and they went ahead up to the third floor together.
There was no disturbance to come from anyone, and once they reached the chamber room they called their own, Jasper entered first and Broderick latched the door. "You must tell me," the dark-haired man said, "How did you convince Judge Cecil to suspend my execution? When he retrieved me from my cell, the first thought I had was that he was sending me away early, but then he proclaimed my sentence revoked and sent me on my way. He told me to thank you."
In the front half of the bedroom, Jasper neared a large, squared window with a seat below it and sat down. The thick, dark blue curtains were opened halfway, and the light from the sun was beginning to fade, draining the evening out for night as the stars began to appear one distant shine at a time.
"For years," Jasper started, "I loathed the family I was born into, particularly my father's half more than anything, but I've come to appreciate the name. The fear and wealth behind it allowed me to free you. I'm sure if I were not part of the bloodline that holds such history, you would still be gone from me."
"You bought my freedom from the gallows?" Broderick asked, taking a seat in front of Jasper.
The Master sighed, "I made what threats I needed to, may have offered promises in return for your well-being. I would have destroyed his life if you had been killed. Perchance, I am not so far off from my father and the men that came ahead of me."
Broderick placed a hand upon Jasper's knee, "I am very aware of the stories that secrete from your family name, but I assure you, Jasper, that you are the furthest form of any of your grandfathers. There is a passion for life in your veins. But, most of all, you are Jasper Lancechester, the first and only unique creation all your own. This life you have is yours to outline, to sketch every page of it. Whether you prefer to keep the pages blank, or to fill them with vibrancy and color, that is a choice for you to make, and I will be here to witness every second of your brilliant artistry."
Unable to help himself, Jasper sprung forward and tucked himself into the embrace that was ready to receive him. He felt so light and at ease, and the flood of fervor that rushed like rapid currents through him cleansed every corner of his heart. And, suddenly, it was as though Jasper could not remember what it was like to feel the torture and heartache he'd agonized within for years. It was there, would always be there, but the form that had constantly raked at his mind vanished into thin air.
At last, he was released.
"Thank you, Jasper," Broderick said then, and the Master remained there against him. "Thank you for saving my life. And not just from the execution at Castle Lancaster. I want to thank you for coming into my life even while we did not know the full extent of what such a meeting would bring. Thank you for not turning away from me when I seemed resistant, for kissing me that night, laughing with me and showing me your love. Thank you for bringing me back to life after so many years of solitude and anguish."
Without words, Jasper merely closed his eyes and kissed Broderick once more, their intertwined shadows cast against the floor until they disappeared completely with the downfall of the sun. Night was upon them now, and the stars splayed about the sky were an exquisite arrangement of fireflies displayed from what seemed like the heavens.
"Jasper..." Broderick stole his lips away.
The Master looked up at him, eyes appearing as polished sapphires from the zealous adoration overflowing within him. "Yes, Broderick?" he answered.
"There is something I want you to know."
"What is it?"
"Do you remember the first night I played the piano for you?"
Jasper nodded, leaning into Broderick's chest when the other man leaned back against the wall of the window seat. "I remember it very well," he said. "You played a beautiful rendition of Für Elise."
"I fell in love with you that night," he disclosed, and the Master looked up at him, astonished by the admittance. Broderick went on, "It was your laughter that struck me, and when I looked upon your smiling face, I knew right then I was in love with you."
A smile adorned Jasper's face and he wanted to speak, but his throat was so constricted that any word he tried to utter would not make it pass his lips. Instead, he lunged for Broderick and held fast, remembering the instant he knew he'd fallen for the other man. Back then, Jasper had been so frightened of the budding of another love, but he'd wanted to feel and experience it more than anything, and he was happy that Broderick had suppressed his qualms about it. Without such guidance, Jasper was sure he would have backed down.
Yet, here he was this time around, so loved and in love, venerated, and unblemished from the wounds of his past. Instead, Broderick Thorne had come along to house and tame the flame that was Jasper Lancechester, and as he now urged himself to seize these moments he was granted, the Master felt nothing more than release from such a shrinking devastation.
Now, it seemed, the wait wouldn't be so bad after all.