Je ne regrette rien (Lucien)

[Marielle Mercier]

As trading ships went, the Sidonie was on the smaller side, but she gained in speed what she lacked in size. Land had been sighted a short while earlier. Inside the captain's cabin, Marielle Mercier changed from her tunic and breeches into garb more fitting the eldest daughter of Aubin Mercier. Her fingers worked swiftly to replait her hair in its customary braided coronet, then fastened her earrings (emeralds, the only piece of jewelry she typically wore). A knock sounded at the door. “Who is it?” she called, tying off the bodice of her dress. Unlike noblewomen, her merchant's gown laced up the front, the better to suit her more independent lifestyle. It was a deep blue, like the nearly-black color of the ocean far out to sea, and had the effect of making her seem more serious. Or least so she hoped. This was her first true command.

"Vespasien," came the answer at the door. Marielle suppressed an eye roll. While she’d left her twin brother behind in Zallia, her parents had insisted that her distant cousin Vespasien Gagnon accompany her as first mate. Everyone on the Rue Berchand knew that the two were intended for each other. Marielle, though being on the cusp of her twentieth birthday, was not yet ready to settle down. Besides, the thought of arriving in Mar'vol sent little shivers down her spine. She had not forgotten her last visit… Vespasien’s voice interrupted her brief reverie. "We’re about to dock."

"I'll be out in a moment," she said, checking herself one last time in the small mirror. It felt constricting to don the heavy layers expected of a proper young woman after weeks at sea. One could hardly command a ship in skirts! And one could hardly conduct trade on land in breeches, if one were a woman. With a sigh, she made her way out on deck to stand beside the first mate. Her sailors threw thick, twisted ropes down to the waiting dockhands and in a trice they were moored and the gangplank lowered.

As much as she might like, Marielle could not rush off as she wished. First, the ship's cargo had to be unloaded and accounted for. That didn't mean she couldn’t send the Sidonie's cabin boy off to the forge with a message for the blacksmith. "Tell him the captain of the Sidonie will be by shortly to discuss the fence commissioned by the Merciers." She wondered if Lucien would know it was she, for she'd kept her own name out of it and the Sidonie was a new addition to the Mercier fleet. She hummed a little as she checked to make sure every bolt of cloth made it to the warehouse and was duly secured for the night. The sun had begun to dip by the time she was finished – about mid-afternoon, nearing evening. "Vespasien, I'm off to the forge," she told her first mate. "The price was never settled, so I may be a while."

"I shall accompany you," he said with a gallant smile.

She shook her head. "It's best if I go alone. Make certain the ship is secured for the night and you may do as you like for the evening."

It was clear he didn't like the idea of letting her go off alone in a strange town, but he nodded reluctantly as she walked off. It had been months since she'd visited the port, but she remembered every step of the way as if it were yesterday…

[tag: Lucien]

[Lucien Leroux]

It was a typical day at the forge. Nothing unsual, nothing exciting, not even a new sword to forge. All Lucien was left with were new bars for a public prison. How very intriguing… should I forge them wrong so they break and the culprits escape? At least that’d be SOME fun around here…
Mario, one of his closest friends, looked up from his work with a lopsided smirk, guessing his friend’s mood as it was mirroring his own. ‘What are you dreaming about, Roux? A glorious past or a bright future, in the arms of some willing lady?’
Lucien had to grin, momentarily resting his heavy hammer and moving a hand over his forehead to keep the sweat from dripping into his eyes, making them sting. “Whatever, Mar. Anything that keeps me from thinking of the dull present. Prison bars, pleaaaseee…”

Now the third young man in the forge finally lifted his head from an intricate carving he was making into the blade of a sword, and joined in the banter. ‘Well, if you are bored, ragazzi, why not try to relieve your boredom with a little excercize?’ With that he swiftly moved to his feet, took the sword with the unfinished carvings and thrust it out at his friends ‘En guarde!’.
Jumping backwards, Lucien let go a disbelieving laugh. “Scipio! If the old man comes in there’ll be hell to pay!” ‘Awww come ON, Roux, if the cat’s away the mice will play’, the other young man just laughed his concern off. ‘That’s how it’s always been, now get yourself some blades, you two!’

Lucien gave in and quickly armed himself, and for a while the smithy echoed with laughter, shouts and the clinging of steel on steel, instead of the deeper banging by hammers on their anvils. The three men were chasing each other throughout the main smithy with the flaming forge, the storage room as well as their little recreation study, soon sweating with the effort that added to the already blazing heat. Who knows how long they would have kept up this game, but just as Lucien disarmed Mario with a skilled flicker of the wrist and a loud, triumphant “Ha!”, they were interrupted by a tentative clearing of the throat and when they all let their arms drop and looked around, slightly bedraggled, they were faced with a young boy, clothed like your typical sailor, who stared at them like he’d just walked into an assembly of ghosts.

Like always, the brown haired Zallian was the first to find his wit again. “Close your mouth, boy, there’s a carriage coming. What can we help you with?”
The boy straightened his shoulders and trotted out his message, curt and clear. “I am here to tell you that the captain of the Sidonie will be here shortly to discuss with you the terms of the iron fence the Mercier’s ordered”
Lucien’s heart missed a beat. Mercier?! That could only mean—
Mario interrupted him in mid-thought, whistling lowly. “Mercier, wasn’t there once that feisty—“ Lucien cut him off with a curt movement of the hand and Mario, surprised as he was, obeyed.
His thoughts were still racing at thrice the speed. Of course he remembered, how could he not! The bargain about the iron fence had been a mere sidenote to him in favor of what had really mattered between Marielle Mercier and him. But apparently the order had not been forgotten, and now they had sent someone to retrieve it. The captain he had said… Marielle had dreamt about her own captaincy back then… could it be SHE would be coming?

“Who’s commanding the—“ he started to say, only to realize that the boy had seen his tasked as ended and had not stuck around to wait until Lucien had his thoughts sorted out.
So all he could do now was wait.

[Marielle Mercier]

Walking along the streets of Mar’vol, Marielle’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to her last visit there. Only a few months ago she’d made landfall on these same docks on board her father’s old ship, the Aurore, leading her first trade mission alongside her twin brother, Marius. She’d been the one truly in charge that time, though her brother (heir to the family business someday) had been assigned equal responsibility. He and Vespasien had proceeded to get soused and hadn’t even noticed Marielle’s little excursion off the ship and her return sometime around dawn. She’d worn sailor’s garb, tucking her dark hair under a cap, to make certain of her subterfuge, but neither her brother nor her cousin had been any the wiser. Only her cousin Jeanne, safe at home in Zallia, knew that she’d met someone in Mar’vol, although the details of such liaison had been kept deliberately vague. Jeanne had a tendency to run her mouth at times and Marielle didn’t want her future in the business to be compromised by her prattling on.

Now she’d been given a command of her, a true command like those of her brother and uncles. Of course, the Sidonie was a smaller ship, but she was new (or at least newly painted) and, most importantly, all hers. Aboard ship all saluted their captain, though some might grumble behind her back about taking orders from a woman. She was grateful for Vespasien’s steadfast respect for her command, however. When a man as burly and manly as him took orders from the petite woman without qualm, it set a good example for the rest of the crew. He wouldn’t be so bad to marry, eventually, she mused. He was handsome enough and respected her desire to be a merchant and sail the seas like the men in her family. But right now she was young and unattached and rather in mind of a quite different young man.

The acrid scent of burned hair and hot metal filled the air as she entered the smithing district of the city. Clustered together, they created a veritable furnace despite the slight chill in the air by the sea. At least she could blame the sudden flush of her cheeks at another memory on the heat of the forge…

She found the forge in question with little difficulty, pausing outside for a moment to collect herself. Her fingertips were still inky from initially the account books and signing the dock orders, much to her chagrin. Still, it was merely the sign that she was a woman who knew how to read and write and had occasion to actually do so in the course of her daily life. She wondered if Lucien would be surprised to learn she’d acquired a ship all her own (well, it belonged to the Mercier merchant company, but she captained it). Or if Lucien would even still be here… It had been months, after all. Would he remember her, even? Or was she just one girl from one night in a thousand?

She licked her lips, tasting the salt that permeated the sea air, and smoothed her skirts. She was a Mercier and the first woman in the family to captain a ship of her own. Who cared if Lucien LeRoux were here or not, and if his memories of that night were as vivid as her own? Steeled by these thoughts, she stepped into the shop, her eyes adjusting from the light outside to the dance of fire within. “I’m here to see about a fence,” Marielle said, her Marvollian clear enough, though marked by her Zallian accent. Despite her thought just a moment before, her eyes scanned the interior of the smithy for his face…

[Lucien Leroux]

Patience was a virtue. A virtue and a challenge. Normally Lucien was the most patient guy on earth if it came to winning girls over. That again required them actually being there. He liked waiting for them to come around, but he hated waiting FOR them. And not knowing IF they even would come was the worst case imaginable. Then again, why was he making such a fuss? Alright, he had enjoyed the short time with this girl and he still held her in fond memory, but that was about it. It could be her walking through that door any second, or it could be someone else of the large Mercier family and if it wasn’t her he would not go drown himself in the harbor.

The lads didn’t help him with this subject in the slightest, for as soon as the boy was gone, Mario wouldn’t be silenced any longer, and he and Scipio kept on prattling about the fun night they had had in the Floundred Barrel, reminded him painfully about the Dare he had been given by her, chatting up an ugly sailor, or how they almost had lost their good graces with the landlord of the tavern.
Lucien didn’t need the reminder. And he also didn’t need their nosy questions. For days or even weeks after his amorous adventure they had practically pestered him with questions about what had happened after they had left. But frankly, Lucien Leroux might be a scoundrel, but he did never kiss and tell. It was a question about guarding honor, his own and the one of the lady in question. Now those questions were renewed of course.

‘Would give my left hand for knowing what passed between you two’ Scipio mused with a telltaling smirk while still working on the blade carving. ‘You know, it’s not fair: scooping up the bets but never giving us any proof you truly succeeded.’
Lucien returned the smirk, but he was firm on the subject and would always stay firm. “I already told you all I will ever give away: That she returned to her ship at dawn. End of story!”
Mario clearly wanted to add something, but in this very moment, the door opened and a slender figure stepped over the threshold, like everyone not used to the heat in the smithy drawing back just the slightest bit. The room was not brightly lit by the forge, and Lucien’s face, farthest away from it, was concealed in shadows for the time being. He on the other hand could see very well and so he recognized her at once.

Marielle Mercier, in the flesh, had come to bargain for the iron fence. She looked very serious and collected in her formal attire, a buttoned up dress that was black or deep blue, difficult to tell in the firelight, and her hair wound up in a braided crown around her head. Very different from what he remembered her as, but he also remebered that she could doff this serious attitude and live on her passions if she trusted someone completely. And somehow he had earned her trust. The lads, recognizing her as well, kept respectfully silent and left the honor of addressing to their unelected leader.
Stepping forward, his face lighting up in his usual charming smile, Lucien approached Marielle and extended both hands in a welcoming gesture. “Well, indeed, if it isn’t Captain Marielle Mercier, coming all the way from lovely Zallia. Welcome to Mar’vol… again”, he finished with a little wink.

Oh yes, he had deliberately chosen to call her on her newly assumed title, acknowledging it and wanting to please her at the same time. This might just settle the perfect athmosphere for both a friendly reunion and a succesful bargain.

[Marielle Mercier]

There was going into a situation blind and then there was actually entering a dim smithy from the light of day. It rendered Marielle almost worse than blind, for in addition to not seeing, she was repulsed by the heavy heat from the forge itself. All she could see was the glow of red and dark shapes in the gloom for the first few moments. Her chin rose a little in defiance of her temporary disability, turning her head as though she were taking in the room and not merely pretending to. Weakness in a merchant was a fatal foible, as least so far as trade was concerned, and to be a woman merchant set her at an immediate disadvantage where the perception of her weakness was concerned. At least she had the Mercier name to carve a path for her in Mar’vol.

The fires of the forge crackled, but there was no other sound. All activity had ceased with her entrance, and all conversation as well, if there was any in a forge, loud as the work could be. She gripped her skirts for reassurance and also to keep from fiddling with her hair or earrings, a nervous habit and a terribly obvious tell that she was striving to break herself of. It also served to dry her damp palms, a sure sign of anxiety. It seemed an eternity before someone stepped forward to take charge.

And it was Lucien! Her heart skipped a beat in spite of herself and she smiled in reply, able only to temper what would have been a broad grin into something more proper to the occasion. He knew of her captaincy already; had the cabin boy told him or was it merely conjecture on his part? Gossip flew fast in a port city, but she didn’t think so highly of herself as to believe her name was of importance to anyone outside the merchant community. She extended her hand for a merchant’s handshake, friendly, but proper all the same. If she wasn’t mistaken (and with her light-addled eyes only now adjusting, it was possible), she thought she spied some of the friends he’d introduced her to on that night months ago.

“I did say au revoir, not adieu, did I not?” Marielle replied, her dark eyes dancing with delight. She felt a thrill in his presence that she’d never felt in Vespasien’s. Certainly, their brief liaison had been unwise and ill-fated, but… she could not find it in herself to regret a single moment of it. She’d imagined their reunion a thousand times in the intervening months. Some were a sequel to their night at the Floundered Barrel. Others, in her more sensible hours, saw him forgetting her entirely or taken up with some other girl. At least he remembered her and fondly, it seemed. Whether they would take up where they had left off… well, that remained to be seen as well.

”I see you have found out my good fortune,” Marielle said, a little chagrined that she hadn’t gotten to surprise him herself. Still, it was bad business to drop in on people unannounced and although the master blacksmith appeared to be absent, she would have been remiss not to send word ahead regardless. ”I hope I find you in good health as well, Lucien?” It was a far cry from what she really wanted to ask: have you found someone else? have you thought of me half as much as I’ve thought of you? But she was toeing the line as it was, using his first name instead of a title. Perhaps later, outside of this place of business she might be able to convey her true feelings, but she valued her place in the company far more than any youthful yearnings of her heart.

[Lucien Leroux]

Ah, her smile! He had to admit, her had truly missed that. No one he had ever met, be they ladies or common wenches had such a variety of smiles than this Zallian Merchant lady. Right now she was still reserved, not as open as she had been on their night out, but then again, she had been always able to keep business and personal affairs apart. Almost always… He denied himself a smirk as he took her hand, gripping it firmly first, but then once again lifting it to his face, only aspirating a galant kiss on the back this time, chivalrous but not quite as insinuating as he had done on their first meeting. That part was through, he didn’t need to win her over anymore, he already had.

“Indeed you said so, ma chère, and I should have guessed you would stay true to your word, honorable woman that you are”, he commented and only provided the word ‘honorable’ with a slight teasing emphasize. If he had his lucky day, she would blush at memories only them could share, making her slightly less the honorable maiden.
She spoke about him knowing she was a captain, and this time he couldn’t keep the usual sassy grin off his face. Knowing her, she might even be a little crestfallen she could not drop the news ‘casually’ now, but then again, he had only striked lucky, and that was what he told her in the end.

“Eh bien”, he started, slipping into more Zallian expressions by habit, as always happened with her around, “your messenger told me the captain of the Sidonie would be arriving here shortly, so when you stepped through the door there was only two possibilities: Either you tied up and gagged your brother to take his place or you were in fact the captain of this ship.” He winked. “Now please don’t tell me it’s the first option! It might spoil my fond memories of you!”
Fond memories? Should he have said that? Hm… well it all still belonged to his cheek-and-charm act, right? A little flattery never went amiss… not even if it was tainted with sheer honesty.

Her next question took some time to elaborate, though usually Lucien would have answered with a quick and meaningless ‘fine’. But oddly enough it made him think. Well, how was he indeed? Good health? Definitely! He was vigorous and energetic as ever, never being ill for a single day, apart from some hangovers that simply came with the job description. Not as a blacksmith of course, but as the womanizer and unelected leader of ‘La cricca’ that he was. The past month had seen many ebrious and amorous nights come and go, but on the rare occasions Lucien allowed himself to think in such patterns, he had to admit that the night he had spent with Marielle ranked very high amongst all those.
In the end he chose to tell her at least part of the truth. “Oh, I’m as fit as ever, Mario over there just got a glimpse of that”, he jaffed which earned him a sour look from his companion. “But not much has been happening around here, so I’m slightly bored… and hoping you might relieve me of this boredom – bringing business into town of course”, he finished with yet another wink.

Oh yes, he was bold, but Lucien Leroux was not known to mince matters. However, he, too, could separate business from fun and so this was as far as he would go. Insinuations, quick savings and all that to tease her, but as long as his master could come back any minute, he might better not be found flirting on the job. He valued and loved being a blacksmith’s apprentice too much to risk that.

[Marielle Mercier]

To her embarrassment, Marielle blushed when his lips brushed the back of her hand. Luckily her face was already flushed from the heat of the forge, so there was no one but herself to know her girlish reaction to his gesture. And she’d been expecting it, too! No one in Zallia she’d met was a charmer in quite the way Lucien Leroux managed to be. Perhaps it was a harmonious mix of his Zallian blood and Marvollian upbringing that captivated her so. Even when he let go of her hand, she still felt the ghost of its touch. Ah! what had she been thinking, coming back here like this? It would have been safer to ask for a different port for the Sidonie to call on. And yet, her heart thrilled at the peril it was in.

Her lips pressed together nigh imperceptibly at his teasing words, the color in her cheeks remaining. It wasn’t that she was displeased, but she railed against the feelings he was able to produce in her with a mere sly glance and clever caress of a word. It wasn’t fair. With Vespasien she was completely in charge of herself, but with Lucien… well, it seemed there was more than one captain aboard this ship.

Marielle gave him a wry look at his explanation of his knowledge. At least the cabin boy had kept his mouth shut. She had an amusing retort on her lips up until his last sentence. Fond memories? Was he playing the flatterer or was that as sincere as she hoped it was? If they’d been talking about merchandise she would have know instantly, but when it came to matters of the heart, Marielle felt half-blind. “If it were the first, I shouldn’t tell you for fear of his untimely liberation,” she said, whatever cleverness she’d been about to say having deserted her mind. “So I shall say it’s the second and leave you to decide if your memories are truly spoiled or non.”

She raised an eyebrow, schooling her lips to remain dryly amused instead of the foolish grin they so wanted to form. “I see,” Marielle said, for want of a better reply. Despite what her heart (and body) wanted, she couldn’t let herself act like the fool in public, not while discussing business matters. Not in the forge, at least. ”Speaking of business, I presume your master is gone for the day?” It was nearly the end of the work day, time for people to be going home or other places for supper. It wouldn’t be out of the question for her to go to dinner with a blacksmith’s apprentice, would it? She couldn’t tell if matters stood the same or differently between them in the forced propriety of the forge.

The real question was, of course, did she want to pick up where they’d left off or no? Months had passed and she still felt conflicted about the answer. The ambitious part of her said that she was lucky to have gotten away with her previous escapade and shouldn’t tempt fate any farther. After all, if she wanted a dalliance, Vespasien was handsome, available, and wouldn’t invite any opprobrium if word got out. On the other hand… the heart wants what the heart wants and right now Marielle wanted Lucien with every fiber of her being. It was a disease, she’d told herself, but she’d been unable to find its cure as of yet. And now it reared its head again, brilliant and toxic and exciting all at once.

[Lucien Leroux]

Too bad the heat of the smithy was affecting her so much already, there was no certainty if the blush on her face had intensified in any way, though Lucien liked to think he had seen her face darken a bit. At least her other body language was showing clearly that she had been affected by his words, but almost to a dangerous amount. He didn’t like the direction her frown and her thin lips were going. Lucien might not know this girl for long but he already knew when to tread carefully and lay low a little. Marielle Mercier was a delicate flower, still struggling with what (he believed) she wanted and what she ought to do. His view on that was obviously bias so he could offer no real help on the matter. She would have to decide for herself how far she wanted to go this time. And he would let her decide. He valued her enough to grant her this kind of freedom.

Lucien threw his head back and laughed at her comment about her brother. Oh that was priceless! And a perfect opportunity to corner her a little yet again.
”What, you would honestly think I would trade your, pardonne-moi, stupid brother’s freedom for the pleasure of your company?” In a perfect show of letdown he puckered up his face in a pout and sniffed indignantly. “Que l’horreur, that wounds me! Deep inside!” He finished off his performance with dramatically putting a hand on his chest where his heart lied, while Scipio and Marco roared with laughter. ‘What hurts there, your heart? Or a bit further down my friend?’ Scipio jested, but a LOOK from Lucien made him shut up and actually blush. “Don’t forget the company we are in”, Lucien reminded him with a frown, then bowed into Marielle’s direction. “Pardonne-nous, ma chère."

Matters returned to business again, and Marielle, with her smart mind, pointed something out that had been in the back of Lucien’s mind, though never really thought out. Indeed, it was late, and the blacksmith had said he would return well in time before evening. He hadn’t, which didn’t have to mean something bad though. He might have been held up by a customer, or by other things. One thing Lucien shared with his master was talkativeness. He might have simply stood on the marketplace for two hours and completely forgot the time.
“He said he would return before we closed down for the day, but knowing him that might have been simply prevented by other circumstances”, he explained to Marielle with a carefree smile, the outline of a plan forming in the back of his mind. “We could finish for the day on our own and he wouldn’t be mad at us. So… if you want to be on the safe side, this fence business might better wait until tomorrow.”

Now of course he had to make sure she wouldn’t leave. Soon it would be time for supper, and being still foreign here, Marielle certainly had no other places to go than her ship.
He had to tread carefully with his suggestion. She might get it wrong… or exactly right for that matter. Lucien DID want to be alone with her again, and the reason was obvious. She was a woman, he was a man.
“What’s on your mind for the rest of your evening?” he decided to go at it directly. “Are you hungry?” Gladly the lads were wise enough not to call him out on the – this time even unintended – double meaning of the last word. They might be rascals, but they knew better than to spoil his game, valueing their friendship too high.