Bastian - Chapter 117 - For My Dear Lover

Sandrine looked out the window of Franz Klauswitz’s studio with interest. Located in an residential area near Boulevard Préve, the street was densely packed with clean, ornate town houses. The fact that many artists had found there footing here was all thanks to Franz.

“The door is open,” came the excited shout of Noah.

Frowning, Sandrine let the curtains fall back over the window and quietly ascended the stairs to the second floor. Noah stood waiting for her outside the door to the studio that now stood open. Although she found sneaking around someone’s house like a thief was reproachful, she couldn’t deny the fact that she was also a little excited.

“Ah, I knew you could do it,” Sandrine said with a smile.

When Sandrine had first asked to see Franz paintings, Noah had flat out refused. Betraying a friend like that was something he wouldn’t do. Sandrine knew he would come around eventually, if he truly valued and respected his friend so much, he would never have betrayed and spied in the first place. All it took was a little persuasion with a hefty pay out and Noah soon changed his mind.

“Franz won’t be returning for a while, he said he would be busy with some railway business, and the rest of the house went to some party at a college studio across town.”

Noah took the lead into the studio and when Sandrine crossed the threshold, she was surprised at how impressive the paintings were. It was impossible to pass them off as products of someone who considered painting a mere hobby.

“Seems Franz is a better painter than he is a businessman,” Sandrine said.

“He does have a fair bit of talent. Ah, here we are, the painting you want to see is just over here.”

Sandrine’s eyes went wide as Noah brought her attention to a painting partially obscured by a picturesque scene of the city.

Odette, Bastian’s wife, expressed in details precise enough to leave absolutely no doubt as to who it was. It was a grotesque sight that could not explain the artist’s passion for the model.

“See? I told you, didn’t I?” Noah said with a childish grin.

The naked form of Odette gazed out at Sandrine from the painting dreamily. Moonlight glistened off her pale skin, surrounded by a messy bed sheet and a cover that covered nothing. Sandrine burst into laughter, she couldn’t help herself, she was thinking about how Bastian was going to react, how much longer is he going to continue to waste his time on such an obscene woman?

Her father had advised her to come up with a fall back plan, just in case. It was alright for him, he had his guarantees even if the marriage doesn’t work out, so there was nothing to lose for him. That was her fathers way, always making decisions that protect his bottom line, but not for her.

Sandrine reaffirmed her determination to marry Bastian, even if it meant having to suffer through a second divorce, it didn’t matter to her. She would be content with the knowledge that she had finally fully possessed that man.

“When is the exhibition opening?” Sandrine asked, lost in thought.

“End of the year, at Linger Gallery.”

“You’ve rented a pretty nice place.”

“Well, thanks to Franz, yeah, we poor people would never be able to afford it otherwise.”

“Well then, shouldn’t we repay that kindness?” Sandrine said. She turned to face Noah with a mischievous look on her face, like a child that just came up with the best prank.

If Bastian wanted a formidable opponent, then she would become that for him, for her beloved Bastian, she was willing to be anything he wanted, no matter what.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Odette opened her eyes in time to watch the twilight of dawn play across her bedroom. Still wrapped in the lingering darkness, her room was as tranquil as a world submerged and the man sat on the end of bed blended with the serene landscape.

She changed her mind about getting up and clutched the covers around her tighter, holding her breath. Memories of last night swam through her head, of him towering over her as he came inside, desperate for the inception to take hold and when the deed was done, he folded her up nice and neatly in the blanket, looking like a carefully packed porcelain doll.

Why?

Amongst her consideration and doubt, Bastian, who had been looking out across the darkness of the room, rose from the bed. Odette looked at him with tired eyes, as if he held the only answer to all her questions.

Even in the gloom of dawn’s first light, partially concealed by shadow, Bastian exuded a presence. The harmony of his thick muscles, large frame and rigid form reminded her of the portrayals of ancient warriors in renaissance paintings. The scars he bore on his body were like desecrations to God’s perfect creation.

Was that the price of the title ‘hero?’

While Odette speculated and considered, Bastian grabbed his clothes and left the room without so much as a glance back at him. As his footsteps faded, Odette sat up. The dining table was still laid out from their midnight snacking.

Odette sat in her bed, watching the slow encroachment of the morning. Her condition had barely changed from yesterday, even after the consumption of food. In that moment of sadness and solidarity, the door opened to reveal Bastian’s return, this time fully dressed in a fresh uniform, like a knight donning his suit of armour before setting out on perilous quests.

He closed the door behind him and approached the bed. “I forgot to settle the bill,” he said, stopping just a step away from the bed.

Odette watched him with a composed expression on her face. Bastian retrieved his wallet from his coat pocket and with a generous smile, produced a thick stack of bank notes and Odette took them.

“Thank you,” she said calmly.

Accept it.

Her mind made the decision.

But..

Odette looked at the money feeling a pang of something in her heart, maybe loss or hesitance, whatever it was, it threatened to engulf her and suffocate her sense of certainty.She forced herself to remain calm, but her cheeks flushed red and betrayed her sense of shame.

Bastian looked down at her with a mocking glint in his eyes and tossed the money he had been clutching. The bills fluttered and then scattered onto the bed and the floor.

To him, Odette had always been like that, pretending to be flat out obedient, yet secretly clinging to her frail dignity. It was both pitiful but also admirable. He enjoyed trying to coax that humility out of her.

Bastian checked the time and turned to leave. As soon as his back was turned, Odette started picking up the money one by on , leaving no trace behind, diligently collecting the money from the space between the blankets, beneath the slippers, and even under his shadow. Only one small note remained on the tip of his boot.

Hesitating for a moment, Odette reached for that last remaining money. As she did so, Bastian sneered as he watched her hunched, barebacked figure, curled up at his feet, doubled over, hungry eyes counting, like she was some filthy beggar, or dirty courtesan.

Isabelle’s voice rang in his mind, shouting insults at Odette when she had gone wild at the ball in the Imperial Palace. Although the Princess was as incorrigible as she was immature, Bastian had to admit that the Princess was better than her.

“I will give you some more,” Bastian said, trying not to laugh at the sight of Odette, “and the more you work, the more I will give you.”

Bastian let four cheques flutter from his hands to the floor. It wasn’t difficult for Odette to work out what he meant by increased workload.

Feeling a deep sense of shame, Odette silently picked up the cheques. They were an amount that was far greater than any salary she had been paid before and as demeaning as it was, she had no reason not to accept his offer.

Bastian left the room without another word and once the door was closed behind him, Odette got up off the floor. She felt something crumble away in her heart, but she ignored it.

Putting the bundle of money away with the rest of her savings, got herself dressed, fixed her dishevelled hair and anticipated the knock at the door.

“Madam, are you awake?” Mollies voice called softly from the other side of her bedroom door. Right on time.