What Is A Legacy

Chapter One

Axelle was a suspicious person, always has been, always will be, but when their brother calls, they answer, no questions asked. That is precisely why Axelle was at a bar in the dead of night, in an unfamiliar part of Paris. The wind was howling outside, and Axelle could hear the rain pelting against the cobbled streets. At the moment, Axelle was composing depressing melodies and lyrics in their head, the rhythmic beating of the rain punctuating the darkness of their thoughts. They'd recently composed a letter, one meant to spare the legacy of the person they held most dear. Of course, it would rip their own legacy to shreds, destroying any hope of respect. It was not yet sent or published; it would only be made public after Axelle's death, or if certain circumstances were to occur.

A loud creak brought Axelle from their clouded mind, the music of their subconscious fading into the background of their thoughts as the pub's door opened. In walked the man who'd called Axelle here in the first place: Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Rich Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette Marquis de Lafayette. He immediately found Axelle's lone figure. They were hard to miss, even in the crowded bar. They sat alone, with a single cup of ale that had hardly been touched, wearing all black aside from their navy blue coat and gold pocket watch. Their hair was tied tightly back, away from their structured face. The candlelight bounced off their high cheekbones and sharp jawline, making their skin glow faintly golden. Their dark eyes held a cold, calculating gaze that pierced through the night in an intimidating fashion. They watched as Lafayette entered the decrepit bar, a sly grin stretching across their thin lips.

Lafayette approached Axelle's table with a wide smile, "Axelle, it's so wonderful to see you!"

His accent was thick, and his pronunciation was so downright hilarious that it caused Axelle to laugh. Unlike Axelle—who had learned English from a young age and had visited the colonies many times—Lafayette's English was rather dreadful and quite unpracticed.

"Why are you speaking English Marie?" Axelle asked with a small chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

Lafayette frowned at the use of his first name, but answered, "I'm—how you say—practicing. I wish to help the colonies win their independence. That is why I asked you here."

"Marie, you're an adult, you don't need my permission for this sort of thing," Axelle said, frowning.

"Axelle, you're my twin, my older si—" Lafayette began.

"Don't call me that," Axelle snapped, a bit more harshly than they'd intended, "Not here. You don't know who might be listening, who might overhear."

"Apologies," Laf muttered, "I just did not want to leave without saying anything."

"Of course," Axelle agreed, "I'll miss you."

They didn't mention it at the time, but they'd already sent several letters to General Washington. They did not want to break Laf's heart by saying they'd be going to war as well. No matter how ruthless and harsh and cunning Axelle was in nature, they would never put Lafayette through that pain. They were to overprotective of loved ones to do anything of the sort. So, of course, Axelle just allowed him the courtesy of a 'goodbye drink'.

Once he left, Axelle stood, paid for their drinks, and walked out into the pouring rain. They looked to the sky for a moment, closing their eyes. Just as the feeling of tranquility washed over them, they brushed it aside and began walking home.

By the time Axelle got home it was well past midnight, but that didn't go to bed. They didn't want to wake Cerys. When Axelle had said they'd be going to war, Cerys had screamed and cried, and it was overall a huge mess. So, trying to be as quiet as possible, Axelle took off their jacket and boots and padded across the entry hall in their wet socks. They paused on their way to the couch to gaze at the beautiful piano in the sitting room. They smiled fondly and approached the instrument, sitting down and beginning to quietly play the melody they'd composed in the pub.

"Drink up baby, stay up all night.
The things you could do
You won't, but you might.
The potential you'll be, that you'll never see.
The promises you'll only make

Drink up with me now,
And forget all about
The pressure of days,
And do what I say.
And I'll make you okay
And drive them away
The images stuck in your head

The people you've been before
That you don't want around anymore.
Or they'd push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still.

Drink up baby,
Look at the stars.
I'll kiss you again, between the bars.
Where I'm seeing you there
With your hands in the air.
You're waiting to finally be caught.

Drink up one more time,
And I'll make you mine. 
I'll keep you apart,
Deep in my heart.
Separate from the rest,
Where I like you the best
And keep all the thing you forgot.

The people you've been before
That you don't want around anymore.
Or they'd push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still."

Axelle stopped singing for a moment, allowing the piano to to all the work. It echoed softly  around the room, managing to convey to desperation and sadness that Axelle could not put into words.  It wasn't until the last verse of the song that the true emotion came out in Axelle's voice. The usually smooth and perfect voice cracked on the last note of the song, overcome by the sheer number of contradicting emotions.

"The people you've been before
That you don't want around anymore.
Or they'd push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still. Oh. . ."

Axelle sat back in silence for a moment, allowing themself this one moment of weakness. They were just about to retire for the evening, when they heard faint sobbing from the kitchen.