I worry that Manna has hyped this story up and it won't deliver! Well, I hope she likes it because it is specifically written with her in mind (yes, it's for you, Manna). It's slightly reminiscent of the first fic I ever read from her. She'll know what I mean. It's just not quite as cracktastically-awesome.

Austrian Chocolates

By Forced Simile

André didn't know which was colder, the chill in the fall air or Oscar's glare down the length of her sword. He raised his hands in defeat, and breathing hard. She jabbed the sword a little closer and more menacingly than she usually did but he knew there was no reason to draw back.

"You lost now say it," she snapped. He breathed deeply trying to catch his breath.

"O.K., fine…Oscar François de Jarjeyes is a man among men," he conceded. The blonde girl seemed placated for the time being. She sheathed her sword and turned away indignantly.

"Make that the last time you tell me I throw like a girl," Oscar told him. André had many protests. Like just because he said that didn't mean that the throw was bad. She was the only girl he knew who even bothered to play ball occasionally and she was pretty good at it. In essence, he only knew girls who could throw well so throwing like a girl was not an insult in his mind. However, all these points would most likely be lost on Oscar. She had been unusually terse these past few days. While she would never explode in polite society, when with André, civility seemed to fail her. He would bear the brunt of most of her abuses at any rate, being her only friend on the manor. She was most open with him, there was no need to pretend to be having a good day when she really wasn't.

Regardless of this latest mood swing, Oscar was still his friend and as she marched away in some sort state of anger, he followed wisely keeping his mouth shut. He'd always say the wrong thing, not to mention that Oscar took a shining to teasing him about how his voice was changing.

"André," she began, breaking the silence. "You're getting clumsy. Perhaps if you did not grow overnight, you would have allowed your body time to get used to the new height. Then you could coordinate yourself well enough to stand some chance against me."

"Oscar, you know I'm not as good at you when it comes to fencing," he protested. The young noble snorted and marched ahead.

"André," she began again.

"Yes?"

"I want to go for a ride, saddle up the horses," she instructed. He bowed and headed for the stable, the fallen leaves crunching beneath his feet. Perhaps it was not the leaves he was squashing, maybe it was his strong desire to lash back, to tell her to stop being so snippy with him. A moment later, he heard footsteps behind him, and knew it could only be Oscar.

"Any particular reason you're following me?" André asked looking over his shoulder. Oscar bristled and narrowed her eyes; he felt like smacking his forehead in frustration.

"Do I need permission to follow my friend?" she inquired coolly. He shook his head and she followed him into the stable. Not a word was said; he set about work and she leaned against the wall and watched him intently. He was going to say about how unnerving it was for her to just stand and stare, but he kept his mouth shut, unsure of the reaction he'd recieve. Oscar went from standing to sitting in just a short period of time, her legs curled up against her chest, but her eyes didn't leave him for a moment.

"The horses are ready, Oscar," he said. She stood up quickly and brushed the hay off her pants.

"I can see that," she replied. André didn't know how much more of these biting replies he could take. Even his forbearing patience was wearing thin with his friend. He moved to help her onto her horse, and Oscar staunchly refused.

"You help ladies on to their horses. Not me," she told him. André wanted to add that he was obligated to help pipsqueak girls who were aspiring to be great generals onto their horses as well, but knew that wouldn't fly very well so he wisely replied with silence and a shrug. After getting on his steed, they both set off at a leisurely pace through her father's forests. Oscar once again rode ahead of him, and he stayed just behind her sensing she needed some space. The silence was only for a short while, for he noticed a few things that were troubling him. One was the way she'd briefly rub her hand over her stomach now and then. Oscar had an unusually high tolerance for pain so for her to react in such a way was rare, and odd to him. He couldn't see her face, but if she was ill, he had to find out. He rode to her side, not intently staring, but sneaking a glance now and then.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" the blonde haired girl asked finally.

"I just…" his voice cracked when he was nervous. "You don't seem well."

"Of course I'm fine. I just ate far too many of those chocolates before I went out to fight you, is all," she said. "My stomach is a little unsettled, but I shall be fine within the hour."

He sighed, "Nanny told you not to eat so many."

"Nanny also tells you to call me 'Mademoiselle.'"

He smiled and laughed and she managed to grin, after so many slighting glares, it was nice to see the old Oscar back.

"Hey…" André began. "Oscar…why don't you want me to call you by a title. I know you don't like to be called 'Mademoiselle,' but maybe I should call you 'Young Master Oscar' or something."

Oscar stopped smiling, and André was worried that he'd said something wrong. Thankfully, no anger followed only something that made her wide, childlike eyes adapt the more mature look that they had the habit of reflecting lately.

"Remember when we almost drowned?" she said.

"How can I forget?"

"If we died that day, we would have gone to the same place. We would have been buried in the earth and eaten by worms. In the long run, it wouldn't have mattered that I am a noble and you are not," she continued. "In death there is no rank. I cannot be so distant with someone I almost died with."

She pulled her horse to a sudden stop.

"I want to sit down for a moment," Oscar informed him. He watched her get off her mount wordlessly and he climbed off of his horse and sat beside her under a tree. Oscar once again pulled her legs against her chest and breathed evenly. Much too evenly in André's opinion.

"Oscar, are you in pain?" he asked. She shoved him a little.

"Why are you asking me stupid questions?" she snapped. "I'm fine. It will be over in a moment."

A moment passed, and another. He wordlessly wrapped an arm around her shoulder. When they were smaller, they were together so often they would get sick at the same time. Often they would share the same sick bed, and they would wipe each other's noses; when Oscar was cold, André was hot and gave her all his covers. When Oscar was hot, she gave André all her covers because he was cold and she knew how good it felt when your friend knew just how to ease your symptoms. They would lament over the horrible medicines, brag about how much puke they'd make. He only wished that he could understand this pain she was going through. It had been hard enough when she broke her arm some years ago, he missed the days when they'd be hurt and sick at the same time, it was easy to understand. He reasoned that now all he had to do was be very empathetic.

"Where did those chocolates come from?" Oscar asked suddenly. At a loss as to the cause of such a question it was a while before he answered.

"Belgium I believe."

"Do you think…do you think that Austrians came and tainted the chocolates?"

"Oscar…"

"I-I'm bleeding André."

"Where?" he asked his tone jumping up two octaves as his body grew tense.

"Please…just take me home. I think I've been poisoned," she said, curling up tighter as though protecting her stomach would stop it from hurting. André was pretty strong for his age; amid protests and threats, he scooped her up and had her on his horse and was racing for the manor in only a minute. In one of her rare needy moments, Oscar placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed. This only made him go faster.

"Don't carry me inside," she said. "Just put your arm around my waist and help me walk."

He nodded in understanding. She could not appear weak in front of her father. As they made it back to the main grounds, Nanny was coming to meet them, having a sixth sense for when either was in trouble.

"Nanny, Oscar is feeling ill, she says she's bleeding," André explained helping Oscar down from the horse.

"Bleeding! Where?" Nanny asked. Oscar only gripped her stomach and Nanny asked no more questions. They took André as far as the door to Oscar's room.

"André," Oscar said. "You can't be with me this time."

He looked at her and she wouldn't look back at him. He removed his arm from around her waist and nodded. Nanny shut the door behind them as they entered, leaving him alone to imagine Oscar's fate.

He expected to wait for hours, to agonize and fret for days only to find that Oscar was going to go to an early grave. When Nanny came out in only a few minutes assuring him that his friend was perfectly fine, André was confused at first. She had been in pain and bleeding, how on earth could she be all right?

Unless…he had heard the maids whispering about when their "time" would come. When younger he would assume that they were talking about dying as that's what people had said about his parents ("I'm sorry André. I guess their time had come.") Later he learned that this was a euphemism for the menstrual cycle that was used to confuse little boys. Throughout the rest of the day, Oscar's ailment became very apparent to him. Nanny never expressly said that Oscar had started hers, but André was far more perceptive than people gave him credit; he put two and two together. The cramps, the reason Oscar wouldn't tell him where she was bleeding and ordered that he not take her soiled clothes to the wash that day even though that was one of his duties.

"I understand," he whispered. He was beginning to understand a lot of things all at once. Once upon a time, the two would share every experience together. Things were different now. In fact, he was certain no one would fully understand Oscar's trials. How long would they stay friends if these radical changes continued to happen?

"Take Oscar her tea tonight, André. I'm sure she wants to see you," Nanny told him returning from the young lady's room.

"Are you sure she wouldn't rather see you?" André asked. The elderly woman frowned and gave him the tray.

"Don't you abandon her now," she said. "You're her best friend, if she loses you now, she'll be more than devastated."

André had no idea as to why Oscar would be devastated, but the idea alone was enough to make him force himself to face her. The walk to her room seemed to take ages. What would he see? What would she say? What would he say? The clinking porcelain only mocked him. He paused at the doorway, working up his nerve, and then pushed open the door.

Oscar was hardly the picture of convalescence or distress that he had imagined. She wasn't even in bed, but calmly by the fire, reading. He stared at her almost blankly and she tilted her head to one side.

"What's the matter?" she asked, closing her book. André fumbled for words.

"I was…well I haven't seen you all day since…" his voice jumped in tone to match the uneasy, swirling nervousness in his stomach.

"I told you, I would be fine, I just had to let it pass," Oscar asserted. "You don't think I'd actually let a little stomach ache get to me."

The older boy grinned and placed the tea tray on the table, "No I didn't think so."

"Will…will you sit up with me for a while? At least until I'm ready to go to sleep?" Oscar requested. He had to pretend not to notice the pleading tone in her voice; Oscar would be offended if he suspected her of weakness. She sipped her tea in relative silence, André was unsure of what to say and both were avoiding direct eye contact.

"Can you please not mention today to my father?" Oscar said finally, placing her tea cup back on the tray.

"Of course not. Wouldn't want him to worry about the Austrians," he replied with a half-hearted smile. Their eyes met finally, both trying to gauge how much the other knew. It would be years before they could properly articulate what they saw. André was just beginning to realize Oscar's inability to accept what she naturally was, though now she certainly could no longer deny it. Oscar finally began to see that this young servant had the ability to read her far better than any of those who claimed to be her family ever could. Though not much was heard above the crackling of the fire, much was said and even more was realized.

"It's getting late," the boy remarked softly.

"Perhaps you should go. Nanny will worry," Oscar agreed. He got up and moved to take the tea tray from off the table. Oscar grasped his hands quickly.

"Good night, André, my dear friend," she said. André would reflect long and hard in the years to come just what had made him start to love Oscar as a person. He had always loved her but never romantically, not before a certain point he was sure. No, he was not so amorous about her then, but perhaps the seeds of what became his near twenty year passionate struggle were sewn in that instant. With that simple touch accompanied by the soft and grateful look he was swayed. It wasn't as though they never held hands before, but it was different today. Oscar needed the reassurance and in her vulnerable state, she revealed herself. Knowing what the real Oscar was as rewarding as it was dangerous.

Notes: I hope you enjoyed my ficlet. If it so bothers, please leave a comment or two. I should follow my own advice, I have so many, many fics to review right now...

If you found my fiction lacking, please say so, and by all means check out Manna's stories. She goes by Kitten Kisses in these parts.