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Blue Eyes

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Blue Eyes
January 2019


Paris 1231

~ My dearest brother,

a lot has happened since my last letter. The Comte du Maines has asked for my hand in marriage. We were introduced last summer while Maman and I stayed in Leuven. He is lord over 10,000 ha land, he's kind and well educated and he makes me laugh (which I deem more important than the acres). He is 20 years older than myself, but still good-looking with brown hair and hazel eyes. I can imagine spending the rest of my life at his side.

However, when I close my eyes at night, in my dreams I see the image of a man with blue eyes and I know him to be my true love. Although it is only a dream, I have never felt such closeness and overwhelming desire to be with this man through all eternity. I try to reach out for him, to get a clearer image and see more of him than those sad blue eyes. But he always slips away from me and all that remains when I wake up is a feeling of such overwhelming sorrow.

Oh mon frère, I'm at a loss of what to do. My heart tells me to turn Alexandre (the comte) down and wait for the man I truly love. Maman says this is nonsense, that I should not let this opportunity pass. I really like Alexandre, but can I be a good wife when I fancy another man with blue eyes in my dreams? Wouldn't I be unfaithful to my future husband when I consent to marry him although my heart is differently disposed? What if the man with blue eyes does exist and I will meet him one day? Is my dream perhaps a hint of fate that I should not comply with Maman's wishes?

I wish you were here to give me counsel.
Your petite Fleur

Nicolas lowered his hand holding the letter and stared into the fire in the hearth. He had hoped that he had erased all traces of Lacroix from Fleur's mind. Apparently he had not been successful. Changing one's memories was a skill he had learned only briefly before that fateful visit to Brabant and not yet fully mastered. What could he do to amend his failure from two years ago? For once he could not ask the one man for advice who would surely know best how to proceed. This was a matter of delicacy he had to resolve on his own.

"Nicolas?" a smooth voice roused him from his contemplations. "Is something amiss?"

Nicolas looked up to find these expressive blue eyes focused on him, a hint of concern reflected in them. He looked back to the letter in his hand, pondering if he should share its contents. "My sister is getting married," he eventually stated and shivered involuntarily as the warmth he usually found himself regarded with left those blue eyes to be replaced by a cold mask.

"Surely you aren't considering attending the nuptials?" Lacroix inquired in a tone that already imparted the impossibility of such a request.

Nicolas shook his head. "No, I severed my mortal bonds as you demanded. I shall not see her again in her lifetime. But I will compose a letter to convey my congratulations." He would dissuade her from lingering on an obvious figment of her imagination and gently remind her of her duty to produce an heir so that the house of Brabant continued on.

"Very well, you may do so after we've returned from tonight's feast. You must be hungry, the night awaits."

Nicolas nodded and rose from his seat.

"May I see her writing?" Lacroix held out his hand.

Nicolas shook his head and committed the letter to the flames.