no mother, no bride, we are empire ⇢ eurydice & larissa [jb]
Jun 14, 2023 14:15:06 GMT -5
Post by napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Jun 14, 2023 14:15:06 GMT -5
In the span of her ruling, Eurydice had learnt that empires did not arise in one day.
They were not built within weeks, months, or even years. The most formidable empires took ages to build, demanding the added sacrifice of blood, sweat, and tears. In her case, grief also seemed to serve as a favored token, as the district flourished greatly from Eurydice immersing herself in her mayoral work and turning her back to everything else. She was constructing an empire, brick by solid brick. The rest be damned. Lennon could coddle her children and if they were in need of extra gentleness, she would order them several ostrich feather beds.
She needed to build an empire for them.
For all of them, each and every single one of the Le Rouxes, because she had lost too many of her own young to just sit idly by as the Capitol stole from them in clear view, felling one lion after the next with little remorse.
But John had too many wives to occupy himself with, Isaiah had his beloved library to wither away in, and so it was up to her again to bring up the rear. To carry the brunt of all and reach for their glory again, as was their birthright. She was a woman building an empire to crush another. She was a mother tallying every loss she had suffered.
She couldn’t do it all alone, though, and that was why a smile crept across her lips the moment Larissa volunteered. Echo was meant to, but Eurydice liked her more as leverage over a certain sewer rat that she mistakenly bestowed the Le Roux name upon. Another debt to collect.
Eurydice didn’t visit the room where Larissa was put. Instead, she had her chaperoned by a dozen of peacekeepers into the mayor’s chambers, all under careful surveillance to adhere to Capitol protocol.
She nodded at her niece from behind a large mahogany desk once she entered.
“Perfect presentation on stage, Lars,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Your father must be proud.” John had a lot of that—pride. She could sense some of the same thing in Larissa, steeped within her very being, but perhaps that was where the similarities ceased. The girl was not hollow gold. She carried herself as if an invisible sword was forever present in her grasp, and looked as if every moment could be hers to seize. For a split second, it reminded Eurydice awfully of Emerson, of Silk.
She pushed those thoughts aside. “Are you scared?” Eurydice asked. “Your brother –” she couldn’t hide the disdain in her voice then, “– lacked fear. He was always so confident. Emerson, too. And,” a hitch, a crack, “Emmett. Silk. They all buried their fears. But what you must understand is that fear can be a powerful tool in your arsenal.”
A pause. She reached out across the table tentatively and took Larissa’s hands in hers, locking their gazes together. “To be a Le Roux is to command fear, both yours and others’,” she rasped. “Be afraid, but make others feel it tenfold, Larissa.” Make them scared, make them cower. With claws and teeth, a Le Roux at its most ferocious was a scarlet tide, a golden massacre. They could paint the town red with blood instead of banners.
“Win for us,” she said, leaning back.
“Win for us and I’ll hand District One over to you, with all its coffers filled.”
Call it a passing of the crown, the keys to her empire.
They were not built within weeks, months, or even years. The most formidable empires took ages to build, demanding the added sacrifice of blood, sweat, and tears. In her case, grief also seemed to serve as a favored token, as the district flourished greatly from Eurydice immersing herself in her mayoral work and turning her back to everything else. She was constructing an empire, brick by solid brick. The rest be damned. Lennon could coddle her children and if they were in need of extra gentleness, she would order them several ostrich feather beds.
She needed to build an empire for them.
For all of them, each and every single one of the Le Rouxes, because she had lost too many of her own young to just sit idly by as the Capitol stole from them in clear view, felling one lion after the next with little remorse.
But John had too many wives to occupy himself with, Isaiah had his beloved library to wither away in, and so it was up to her again to bring up the rear. To carry the brunt of all and reach for their glory again, as was their birthright. She was a woman building an empire to crush another. She was a mother tallying every loss she had suffered.
She couldn’t do it all alone, though, and that was why a smile crept across her lips the moment Larissa volunteered. Echo was meant to, but Eurydice liked her more as leverage over a certain sewer rat that she mistakenly bestowed the Le Roux name upon. Another debt to collect.
Eurydice didn’t visit the room where Larissa was put. Instead, she had her chaperoned by a dozen of peacekeepers into the mayor’s chambers, all under careful surveillance to adhere to Capitol protocol.
She nodded at her niece from behind a large mahogany desk once she entered.
“Perfect presentation on stage, Lars,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Your father must be proud.” John had a lot of that—pride. She could sense some of the same thing in Larissa, steeped within her very being, but perhaps that was where the similarities ceased. The girl was not hollow gold. She carried herself as if an invisible sword was forever present in her grasp, and looked as if every moment could be hers to seize. For a split second, it reminded Eurydice awfully of Emerson, of Silk.
She pushed those thoughts aside. “Are you scared?” Eurydice asked. “Your brother –” she couldn’t hide the disdain in her voice then, “– lacked fear. He was always so confident. Emerson, too. And,” a hitch, a crack, “Emmett. Silk. They all buried their fears. But what you must understand is that fear can be a powerful tool in your arsenal.”
A pause. She reached out across the table tentatively and took Larissa’s hands in hers, locking their gazes together. “To be a Le Roux is to command fear, both yours and others’,” she rasped. “Be afraid, but make others feel it tenfold, Larissa.” Make them scared, make them cower. With claws and teeth, a Le Roux at its most ferocious was a scarlet tide, a golden massacre. They could paint the town red with blood instead of banners.
“Win for us,” she said, leaning back.
“Win for us and I’ll hand District One over to you, with all its coffers filled.”
Call it a passing of the crown, the keys to her empire.
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