Disclaimer: The disclaimer ran away with the muse...i'm afraid i'll only miss one of them...

Shatter Star

Chapter 11

She could not fathom the appeal of being a courtesan.

Granted, she wasn't one. But even the act itself was so implicitly boring she wished she were still doing the household chores. It was not deemed proper for her to speak with servants. It was not considered moral for her to play – or even speak to Clive (not that she didn't). And god forbid she even suggest doing work to pass the time.

So what exactly drew perfectly capable women with hands and legs and brains into believing a life doing nothing but preening and washing and sitting around being available for the occasional visit from one specific man was a good one?

Nothing, by her estimation.

Although, AnnaMarie mused, she supposed actual courtesans did a little more with their specific men then she did with Remy.

Every time he visited her, he made an effort to actually spend the time, barely half a day went by without seeing him, and on those occasions, he generally had a gift for her.

She adored the gifts – they ranged from the exotic and expensive, to the petty and attentive. Chocolate in from France, the finest of English and Chinese teas, dresses in silk, velvet, and gossamer slashed with bolts of brightly coloured satin, Seed pearls or emerald or ruby and onyx sown in intricate patterns on the bodice, glistening like fruit split open. Diamonds to nestle in her hair and flash around her throat and wrist. And once, after an afternoon talking about their childhoods, a pocket sized book on Philosophers of ancient Greece.

But much as she adored the gifts – they were nothing to how she adored the man who brought them.

Anna was well aware she was running out of the precious reprieve Wanda had given her. Half a month already had been wasted to these days with Remy, and always Anna would tell herself that today she would confront Logan, find out the truth of her birth, and then Remy would appear with a velvet riding cape slashed with silk and lined in squirrel fur, and suddenly everything blew out of her mind.

It was stupid. She knew it. She hated it. But she could not seem to stop herself doing it.

She didn't to ask herself why, and she hated that too.

But more then that, she hated how Remy could only grab a few hours in a day to speak to her. She hated Henri, Mercy and Clive for escaping to Paris for a couple of months and leaving Remy with work she knew bored and tired him. She hated that he still slept away at night. She hated that she didn't want him too.

Every night he left her with a grin and a look of pure hunger. Every night she saw him glance toward the bed he'd left and disappear till the morning. Every morning the hunger would vanish back behind the cool, collected mask.

She wondered where he was sleeping. Wondered who he was sleeping with.

Anna leant back against the ancient oak and sighed. The Lebeau gardens were a beautiful sight, the acres of manicured grass balanced out by the wildness of swampland it connected onto, the trees and plants and bushes divided into sections of garden – none more beautiful then the little patch of wilderness that Rogue had found tucked away behind a stone wall and heavy wooden door.

Mattie had told her the garden had been built decades ago. She said that the owner of the house – the then King of thieves - had fallen in love with the Queen of assassins, who, though not strikingly beautiful, was quick and clever and gentle, sharp and intoxicating. In the dead of night he stole her away, and the Assassin king was outraged at the loss of his bride.

According to Mattie, the adulterous King and Queen were tried before an impartial Guild, and the Queen was told to return to her husband, who would commit her free spirit to a wing in his household where she would never be allowed to leave. The thief, unwilling to release her to this fate, built a secret garden for his love, and hid her there, visiting only when he had the chance.

Anna thought Mattie's tale was fanciful and romantic, but Mattie swore it was true.

"De wall was covered 'n ivy once" She said, "'e grew 't t' hide de door in case de assassins came lookin' f'r her. Of course, de assassin King was n't appeased, 'nd struck down 'is rival 'n anger. After 'e was dead dere was no one t' find de door – or 'ts key – 'nd no-one coul' do anyt'ing but whisper t' de Queen t'rough de cracks 'n de wall. 'f y' quiet, on a moonless nigh' y' c'n hear 'er, sobbing 'er poor broken heart away. Dat was de day de war started Rogue – Love began dis war, and nough' but love c'n end 't again."

Rogue's smile died as those words echoed round her head. Love will end the war. Love between the two royal children. Remy and Belle – destined to rule the guilds together, whilst she watched from the sidelines she'd been graced with as a first cousin. She had known Remy and Belle were to marry before she'd even ended up here by chance. But she also knew that neither was in love with the other, that they didn't even like each other.

Alliances between guilds were common – necessary even. But what if Remy and Belle decided not to marry? It was their lives after all; they were the ones that were stuck with each other for life, and that way….

…That way what? Remy would sweep her up into his arms and declare ever-lasting love? No. Not ever. Even if Remy and Belle did decided they weren't to marry – she and Joseph had both given their consent to their arrangement. Besides that, marriage to a minor assassin house was not on the cards for the adoptive son of Jean-Luc Lebeau….

A sudden thought made AnnaMarie sit up. Adoptive son? Rogue hadn't really thought much about Jean-Luc since he'd left, in her mind he was the fuzzy, murderous face she had imagined since her mother's accident, and she had never really questioned the fact that Remy had been adopted. But the similarities between Remy and his father were striking and definite, and more then a son trying to emulate the father he adored.

Perhaps he was Jean-Luc's son. A bastard perhaps? But then, there were hints that Jean-Luc had many Bastards, including a girl he kept in very nice accommodation further north. Why pretend that Remy was adopted? Besides that, she'd heard Henri talking about their mother. And, now that she thought about it, she had a vague recollection of Mattie telling Mercy how Clive was the spitting image of Remy when he was a baby.

But if Remy was Jean-Luc's, why would the guild carry on the farce that Remy had been adopted?

"Penny f'r y' t'oughts?"

Rogue jumped, then scowled, annoyed she'd been caught unawares as Remy sauntered across the cobbled path and lay on his side next to her, fixing her with an intense look and an aloof, wolfish grin.

"Y' look mighty guilty chere," he husked, eyes unconsciously trailing the curve of a curl that had escaped the mass atop her head, then leant in to whisper, "Wern' t'inkin' naughty t'oghts 'bout moi where y'?."

"You bet." Rogue teased, "Really naughty ones."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Oh yeah, Ah was jus' mentally plannin' on where ta hide th' body."

"Ouch, Cherie. What a sharp tongue y' have."

"Ya have no idea."

"Non," the other agreed, a playful glint dancing in his burning eyes, "But Remy sure woul' like to…"

Sighing heavily and rolling her eyes, Rogue leant back against the tree, watching the grass rippling in a warm wind that was light as a thief. Mid spring was always her favourite time of year. The perfect balance of the first flushes of new life merging with the promises of the vibrancy the summer brings.

"It's beautiful." She sighed wistfully, not realising the words were escaping her, "Ah could stay here forever."

"Y' coul', y' know." Remy's eyes were intense, sincere. " I'd like y' to."

Rogue turned away, unable to take the look he gave her. "'Nd what would happen t' meh when the new wife comes t' stay?"

She heard the hiss of air through teeth as his breath escaped him. "Oh, Chere -,"

"Ah'm not an idiot Remy. Ah've known ya were getting' married ta Belle since Ah got here. But it's time we were practical now, we've been dancing roun' each other like what we have has a future. But all we will ever have is these stolen moments. There ain' no future in what we have."

Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her to face him again. "I ain't de firs' man t' take a mistress Chere."

"Ah'm worth more then that Remy."

"I know." He husked, the twin red orbs boring into her, "I know."

A long moment passed, each of them acutely aware that the time they had was limited and precious, and when Rogue turned her head away, Remy slipped his arm about her, unwilling to let her go. The silence stretched between them, and Remy felt as if the rare treasure that he held slipped away from him more and more every second.

It made him feel sad, and unconsciously, he tightened his grip – pressing his nose into her hair and laying a kiss on her temple.

"O'course." He whispered, delighted at he shiver that she tried to hide, "I coul' jus' lock y' in here like de old Kings did."

He smiled at the sound of her laughter, and Rogue herself was grateful for his lightening the mood.

"Remy?" She breathed, and Gambit could hear the drowsiness in her voice.

"Hmm." He answered, subtly shifting his weight so he could see her face.

Green, green eyes looked up at him, "Wha' happened ta yoah parents?"

Remy tensed, ten thousand lies, dodges and bantering jokes springing to his tongue. And then he looked into the green, green eyes, and found himself speaking.

"Mon mere didn't wan' me. Jean-Luc did." A thousand memories of the mother who had despised him swam afore his eyes. Her giving Henri a present, her swooping Henri into a hug, laying a kiss on Henri's cheek, snapping her hand back before he could reach it…

"T' appease 'er, dey decided dat dey woul' tell ev'ryone I was adopted, even came up wit' dis story o' how I tried t' pick 'is pocket in de streets," he smiled, remembering the pride in his fathers voice as he told the other guild leaders of his new sons skill. Remembering the look in his father's eye when he returned from his first heist. Remembering the day his father had told his mother to keep a civil tongue when speaking to his son. Remembered the way Claudette wrinkled her nose like he was a bad smell she just couldn't get rid of…

He came back to earth to find Rogue staring at him in complete horror.

"Don' look at me like dat chere, not y'."

Her brow furrowed, lines marring her forehead, "Like what?" She breathed.

"Like 'm de most pitiful t'ing y' ever seen in y' life." He couldn't meet her eyes, managed a weak smile. "I get dat fr'm everyone else, but I don' wan' y't' look at me differen'…"

She hated the tears pooling in her eyes, knew he would hate them too, so willed them not to fall.

What on earth was wrong with her?! She was an assassin! She was strong, fearless. She had learnt to put her emotions into a secondary category – they were not as important as getting a job done. Emotions were hindrances – you suppress them, that's your job…

So why couldn't she seem to stop them now? Why was Remy's pain causing her so much agony? Why couldn't she even hide the effect?

A tiny voice whispered an answer she simply could not accept, and she buried it in a box in her head.

"Y' know," Remy breathed, "f'r so long, I bin an outsider, felt…secondary. But wit' you…s'like I don' care what dey t'ink, s'long as you…I dunno…"

"Maybe…" Anna breathed, feeling as though she were stepping over some dangerous lines, "Maybe it's because…Ah'm an outsider too…we match, fit together…"

His smile shone with hope so intense, it radiated from his dark, dark eyes. "Like a puzzle."

He looked so much like a child in that instant; she couldn't help but smile back. And for a second she forgot. Forgot who he was and what he stood for. She forgot that he was set to marry her cousin…

And then it all came crashing back.

She turned away, the hopelessness of her situation overwhelming her. What was she doing here? There was absolutely no proof Logan was her father, she had come across nothing to suggest that the guild had anything to do with her mothers death, and now she was here, she couldn't believe these people were capable of such an atrocity.

All she had were silly dreams and half—baked accusations. So why didn't she go home?

Remy Lebeau.

That's why.

She was in love with a man who didn't even know who she really was.

Belle always said she was stupid.

She was right.

For the first time in a long time, Anna Marie hung her head.

And wept.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

The silver haired man behind the desk crossed one long leg over the other, allowing his well built, lithe frame to fall back into the cushions and leather of the wing-backed seat.

Behind him, his platinum-haired sons stood at opposite ends of the room, eyeing their guest with twin dislike in their cool blue eyes. No more then two years apart in age, but as opposite as it was possible to be in every other way but one.

They looked like the powerful, calculating man in the chair, and were nothing like him at all.

The huge, barbaric man in the seat facing them chuckled to himself. How fitting that the man to value sons would find such disappointment in both of his.

The daughter was the child he should have kept.

The powerful man knew that now, the guest supposed. He saw himself in that woman his daughter had become. She could be cold, she could be calculating, she could have power indescribable.

She had her fathers' mind, she had her mothers' spirit, and she had the raw talent, ability and the capacity for cruelty both his sons lacked.

Provided that assassin had not corrupted her with the ideals of fairness and freedom.

"This is to be done with as little fuss as possible." The powerful man spoke in his heavy, gravely tone. "Her…disappearance is not to be marked as…unusual. Do you understand?"

The guest grinned, that appeared to be answer enough.

The powerful man steepled his fingers together, "I understand she has been…fraternizing with this…thief. If it is possible, I want you to make the assassins aware of that."

"You want it to look like the job was done by thieves; I'll let 'em sees me do it."

The powerful man gave a wry smile, "I need you to be…undetected, for as long as possible." He said in that slow, deliberate way of talking. "You must still have the trust of the guild, for those…other reasons we discussed."

"Lebeau an' his woman?"

Out the corner of his eye, The Guest saw the elder son flinch at his words, clench a fist at his side, drag a hissing breath through clenched teeth. The Guest was amused.

The father had noticed too. The Powerful Man was irked. He tilted his head back toward his guest. "Yes. Mr. Lebeau. But those plans are in waiting." The Powerful man rose. "I want to see if you are as good as you say you are first."

The Guest rose too, squaring his shoulders. "I decided what I want."

The Powerful man inclined a head, indicating The Guest to continue.

"I want Wolverine."

The other was not pleased by that, doubtless he had his own plans for that one. But after a moment he inclined his head. "Agreed."

The Powerful Man extended a hand, "Until next time then, Mr. Creed."

The Guest took it, "I guess so, Mr. Lensherr."

Behind them, his two sons looked away.

The elder for distaste of the whole meeting, and what it meant to one he'd pledged himself to.

And the younger out of total fear for the twin he hadn't seen in years, the other half of his soul.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Wow, this update is late…very, very late – but hey, it's an update…

Reading through this story, I am mortified to realise there are, rather significant plot holes, I can't apologise enough for that – I was a lot younger when I started this story, and had no conceivable idea of how the hell it was going to end.

I have never planned a story, I know that makes me a terrible author, but I seemed to be allergic to plans, every chapter is born out of how I feel like doing things that day.

I write, purely to write, for no other reason then that.

So, it is with a heavy heart I must beg the readers (that would be you) to please ignore the little (or large) mistakes. I do know where I'm going now, and the end may soon be in sight!

So now that's over with; Why don't you press that little button, it's calling you. And you know you wanna answer ;)