Disclaimer: Don't own.

Title: Willow Waves

Rating: T

Genre: Romance/Angst

Pairing: Levi/Petra

Important Note: My history is incredibly flawed and I'm such a mountain of ignorance when it comes to most colonies and history that doesn't include Japan, Korea, Turkey and Australia, so I've decided to make this a HUGE AU. In this, the British and the French did slave trade regularly and it set them an alliance with each other. I know slavery wasn't huge in Britain like it was in many countries and unfortunately still is, but for the sake of story telling, I'm making the historical British and French governments bastards who actually had the audacity to make slave trade. Capiche? Capishe. So if they're any history nerds out there reading this (*cough*pleasebymytutor*cough*) and you guys realize some intense historical error, trust me, I don't know any better. This is my own AU of mid-18th century England. Including the sovereign because really, who gives two craps about who was king or queen? I certainly don't.

She knew of the tales of the special slave men that the French bred as well as she knew the story of Red Riding Hood; she heard of it, listened to it but didn't know whether it was true. It was like a secret that everybody spoke about, speculated on, wondered whether it existed truly. Nobody in Petra's Western England city had ever witnessed the usage of a Lemoi slave, male or female. It wasn't until Petra was nine that she first set eyes on one.

How did she know? The mark. The word Lemoi branded on their forehead, right beneath the hairline and small enough to miss if you didn't focus enough. But if that didn't capture your attention, the look in their eyes certainly did. Petra watched the slave walk with his master, one hand on his musket sheathed at his waist, the other by his side. He looked downwards, head bowed obediently. His master, an arrogant distant relative of the royal family, who even Petra's own compassionate father hated, flaunted his new possession with a proud smirk, his nose high in the air.

'First of his kind in this place,' he announced to people who asked. 'This city has never seen Lemoi's marvellous creations firsthand. He's a masterpiece!'

A masterpiece. A property. Not a human being with feelings and free will, but a soulless, empty-eyed possession that Claude Lemoi himself created and was known for. Petra took one look at the slave's stoic face, void of any emotion. And his eyes, dull as a rusty sword. Empty. The blue pupils, something that would be so beautiful to look at otherwise, were so bare that Petra had to glance away, frightened at the lack of...everything in his stare. It was scarring, a scar that etched itself into her very soul.

Later that night, she heard her father and mother speak after dinner about the introduction of Lemois in the city.

'He looks dead,' her mother whispered, as though not to let Petra hear from where she thought was the other room but was actually the corridor. 'That's what makes them Lemoi's slaves.' Her father replied gravely.

'How does he make them?' Mother asked, voice shaking.

'It is only rumours but I know it to be truth,' Petra heard her father shift, as though leaning in closer to his wife to speak softly, 'I hear that Lemoi finds young people off the streets and confines them. Uses a drug that tortures their mind and makes them delirious. It is a harsh process, and once he is done, he forces them into submission. Those men and few women,' her father swallowed, 'they are treated less than animals, and live as so. The mental abuses they go through force their mindset into believing they are tools. Possessions.'

'Dear Lord,' her mother gasped. 'How could they do such a thing?'

'Lemoi,' Mr Ral said, 'is a heartless perfectionist. He wants power, and what better power is there than that of superiority over other human beings? Lemoi slaves, they are human shells that used to be people once. Like you and me. Like Petra,' her father choked up. 'The things those children go through, dear, to become those slaves.' Petra's eyes began to sting, and she stuffed her fist in her mouth. 'They must have been only a little older than our beautiful daughter, maybe some even younger.' A sob escaped her father's mouth and it scared her, the emotions her own papa showed and it was only indicative of how frightening the experience of the slaves were. Petra was not wrong in being afraid of that slave, of the look in his eye.

'Hush, dear. We must be grateful.' Her mother voiced. 'It seems that from now there will only be more slaves to be imported. The others will have to leave.'

And it was true. Slaves were everywhere in England, some the poor and some the criminals, and others the French slaves that came on ships. Lemoi's slaves weren't numerous enough for them to be popular in places other than London. But after the royal relative's flaunting visit with his new toy, the rich folk of Petra's city abandoned their regular slaves, replacing them with their Lemoi counterparts.

By the time Petra turned thirteen, there were over ninety Lemoi slaves in her community, all owned by the wealthy, all carrying swords and muskets and had the skills of warriors. They were used as such. Guards for their masters' homes, manslayers of those who dared to double cross their owners. They followed them with animal-like obedience, nothing but emptiness in their endless eyes as they did everything they were told.

Over the years, Petra learnt many things about the slaves.

They don't experience human emotions, the baker said.

They do not even bathe without their masters' permission, the blacksmith explained.

Some Lemois who lose their values to their owners commit suicide because their usefulness has ended. They know nothing else, the seamstress exclaimed.

One French Lemoi has the man power of five English soldiers, whispered the apothecary, don't let the king hear I said that.

But when Petra was fourteen, it was the Lemoi of the Duke that had everybody talking. He had just been shipped from France, a small man with no height or brawns and grey eyes that never looked up from the ground. Rumours had it that this man had the strength of three Lemois (that's worth fifteen English soldiers! the apothecary cried) and had been an assassin and weapons master in France before he became a slave that was sold for the highest bidding price ever given for a Lemoi. He was a treasure, the Duke's greatest prize that followed him everywhere he went. But his master, who Petra once looked up to as the leader of their community, was nothing but a fiend to her eyes when she saw his treatment of his slave.

It was in the streets of the city, in front of the dress shop that the Duke's wife frequented, that he hit the Lemoi across the face for not greeting the his friend. 'Where are your manners, Lemoi?!' he bellowed, striking the slave again, harder this time. Petra watched from across the street, terror seizing her heart. The Lemoi made no sound, accepting the blows. 'On your knees now, scum,' the Duke snarled, 'forehead to the floor like the animal you are.'

And in horror, Petra watched the Lemoi drop to his knees, slowly bowing forward. But he was too slow, or the Duke was too impatient because he slammed his foot down on his slave's head, the loud crack of bone resonating in the quiet streets as everyone held back their gasps. Petra's eyes watered, her hand clutching her chest. Her father turned her away, pressing her face into his shirt. 'Don't look, sweetheart. Don't look.' He murmured. Petra cried silently, eyes shielded from the traumatic sight she witnessed.

'Don't you dare disrespect me or anyone above you, rat. You are nothing, you hear? You are but a possession and you will act as such.' The Duke's voice echoed the streets, and women shuffled their children away before they began to cry.

'Do you hear me?!' Petra jumped, and her father held her tighter. Another crack reached herears, and she knew it was because the Duke stepped on him again. She shuddered.

'Yes, master.' The voice was nasally but clear, completely void of emotion and pain that Petra knew he would be feeling. That any human would be feeling. To be dehumanised, trampled on and physically abused in public. Bile rose in Petra's throat. And when the Duke commanded him to bow at his friend's feet so he could step on him too, her father ushered her home before she could see.

That night, she listened to him recount the story to his mother in the reading room, and she wept. 'Our poor girl,' she sniffed, 'that poor Lemoi. What they've had to endure.'

'Even if they drop to the price of bread in the poorest streets of England, I promise you we will never do that, dear. No Lemoi will enter this house as a slave.' The Rals weren't the richest family in the city, but they were not poor. Her father was a merchant and well off enough to afford two slaves to help with the housework. But the very next day, Petra's parents set them free. They were two young women, Hannah and Elizabeth, Petra's nannies growing up and her closest friends. Elizabeth had been asked for by the blacksmith's son down the street that everyone knew loved her like his life, and Petra's father gave them his blessings as her stand-in father. As for Hannah, he gave her enough money to get her life started. With one last kiss to her forehead, Hannah wished Petra a delightful future and thanked her parents for their good treatment of her. Petra never saw her again, although a year later, Elizabeth announced news of her pregnancy. It was the best news she'd heard in the longest time.

-X-

When she was seventeen, it happened. It was a late raining evening and she and her mother were waiting for her father's return from a trip to London. Just as they were about to give up and begin dinner without him, an urgent knock sounded at the door.

'He's here,' Petra called out to her mother who was putting soup in bowls in the kitchen. Throwing open the door, she opened her mouth to welcome her father home but it died on her lips.

Her father stood in the rain, a bloody man's arm thrown over his shoulder as he supported the man's weight. 'Help me bring him in, Petra,' her father declared, and without thinking Petra grabbed the man's other arm and pulled it over her shoulder. He slumped in their support and they hauled him in. The door shut behind them from the harsh wind.

'Honey?' Her mother's voice came through the corridor, but when she stepped out she gasped. 'Who is it?' She questioned, rushing forward. 'We'll see once we clean his face, I'd assume,' her father made light of the situation, and it released some of the pressure on her chest. 'Let's lay him in the guest room for now.'

Her mother flew up the stairs to prepare.

'Let's go slowly, sweetheart,' her father said to her. Petra nodded numbly, and they began up the stairs, one step at a time. 'Don't slip,' she managed to say, voice cracking. The rain-soaked clothes dripped all over the steps. She glanced to her side at the man's face. It was bloodied and bruised, his chin gushing and an open wound evident on his forehead. His head was slumped and his hair hid his closed eyes. His shallow breathing frightened her.

'Where did you find him?' she asked.

'Now's not the time for questions, dearie,' they reached the final step and managed to carry him to the guest room, his feet dragging behind him.

'Put him down,' her mother instructed, folding back her sleeves and tying her hair back tightly. 'Petra, bring me the medical kit.' She nodded, assisting her father in laying the man down and rushing to the sewing room to retrieve the medical kit they kept amongst the needlework.

'Will he be okay?' she couldn't help but ask as she watched her mother set to work.

''We'll see in a minute.' She pulled out a scissor and sliced open his shirt. Petra held back a gasp at the state of the man's torso. Deep purple and orange bruises adorned his chest and down his side where his ribs were surely broken, and there was a cut along his stomach, like a sword wound. The man groaned, hand lifting to swipe against her mother's pressure on his wound. Petra's eyes snapped at his face.

'Can you hear me, young man?' her mother asked clearly. Petra remembered her telling her about how she used to help at her grandfather's apothecary as a young woman. She was a skilled medical practitioner, her mother was.

He groaned in response.

'I'll take that as a yes,' she heard her mother murmur. 'Listen to me. We are going to help you. Do you understand? We mean no harm.' He sent a side glance to her husband. 'I really hope I'm not doing something against the law, but I've got a feeling I am.'

Petra watched her father smile and lean in and kiss her mother's forehead. 'We'll leave it to you.' Her mother rolled her eyes.

'Let's go, Petra. It's best not to distract her.'

-X-

She sat with her father in the living room by the fireplace. He changed his clothes and insisted she eat, but she was feeling too numb to do so. 'We'll eat with mother.' She responded. She didn't ask any questions as they sat in silence, and despite her father's good natured smile, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the worry in his eyes.

When her mother came down an hour later, looking well worn out and exhausted, she sat in the armchair closest to the fire.

'How is he?' Her father asked.

'He could be better. He's well beaten up, has lots of sword slashes on his back and he's got two broken ribs, but they're all wounds that will heal in time. Nothing threatening if treated quickly.'

Petra released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. 'There's something else, though,' her mother said. Eyeing her husband, she leaned back tiredly in her chair. 'Where did you find him?'

'At the port, bleeding in a small boat that was untied. Whoever left him there intended him to sail away and die at sea.'

She nodded. 'And who is he?'

'If I knew I'd have informed his family, dear.'

'Did you know he is a Lemoi?'

Petra tensed, and her father's smile dropped. 'I figured he is a slave at most.' His wife sighed deeply, fingers massaging beside her eyes. 'He's the Duke's Lemoi, dear.'

Silence.

Petra's heart thundered, remembering the event in the street several years ago. The sound of broken bones echoed in her mind. It had never quite left her.

'But he's the Duke's most prized possession,' she began. 'How could he leave him like that? He's,' her lip quivered, 'he's the most envied Lemoi slave in the city.' It disgusted her to say it, to openly admit that the higher ups of their community were envious of each other's slaves they saw as nothing more than useful creations that happened to breathe. That each other's possessions and wealth wasn't enough, that they were jealous of the people owned by people.

'He wasn't just left there, Petra. He was abandoned. To abandon a Lemoi, do you know what it means?' Her mother questioned. 'It means to leave him without purpose. To be abandoned by their master means to suffer and die. And that is what they did.'

'He could have freed him,' she insisted.

'Lemoi cannot be freed.' Her father muttered. 'To legally free a Lemoi means to give them control of their life. Lemoi do not have free will and without an owner, they deem themselves useless and kill themselves. So they are killed by their masters instead.' Petra shuddered at the harsh reality. It was so ridiculous to accept such a concept, that humans couldn't see themselves capable of leading their own lives without having orders, being commanded to do everything. But she had seen it for years, the blatant loss on a Lemoi's face when their masters did not demand anything, the solid stone they became when they had nothing to do.

'Then what will we do? He cannot be freed and we cannot kill him.'

Her parents glanced at each other thoughtfully, as though sharing a thought. She envied them as much as she admired them when they did that. They were in sync, two halves of one being who understood each other as well as they understood themselves. It made her believe in love, gave her hope that one day, she will also have someone to be connected to. And in that one shared gaze, they reached a decision.

'Let's eat dinner,' her father said. 'It's been a long night and we're all hungry. We'll talk again in the morning, after we've rested also. Best decisions are made with clear minds.'

-X-

But Petra could not sleep. She tossed and turned in bed, kept up by both the ever-pouring rain outside her window and the thoughts of their newest visitor. He was in the room across her own, and they were the only two on the second floor as her parents' bedroom was on the first floor on the left.

It was almost sunrise when she finally decided to sit up, her mind alive with thoughts and her body feeling fidgety. Without thinking twice, she stood. Opening her door and softly padding across the corridor, she entered the guest room, shutting the wooden door behind her quietly.

Blood humming in her ears, she neared the bed, the only source of the light being the gloomy dimness seeping through the window. There was an hour or so to sunrise, and although it was dark, she could make out the outline of the man's body, laying motionlessly.

Cautiously sitting in the chair no doubt her mother had pulled out, she peered at him, gaze examining his feastures. Her eyes adjusted a little better, and she made out the sharp cheek bones, a nose that she suspected could be slightly crooked from being broken more than once not many years ago. She shuddered at the memory. His mouth was parted slightly, taking in shallow breaths through busted lips.

He's the Duke's Lemoi

Carefully, she reached a hand to his face, fingers gently pushing aside the hair on his forehead. Momentarily distracted by its soft texture, she stroked it aside, and through the little light she had, she could see it. The French word Lemoi adorning just below his hairline in bold black ink. A brand.

She stared at it, unable to look away from the offensive word that single-handedly controlled the life of this man and many others like him. Robbed them of their futures. She hadn't ever seen an old Lemoi, not one who seemed beyond the age of thirty, and deep down, she knew it was because, the younger, the better. Stealthier, healthier, stronger. Young slaves who fought like warriors. What better weapon? This man lying before her could be no older than twenty eight at most, no matter how lacking in height and figure he was.

She was so distracted by her thoughts that she didn't realize the Lemoi had awoken and was staring straight at her until she looked away from the ink on his forehead. Her heart almost stopped when she met his gaze, his empty, empty gaze. Suppressing a gasp of surprise, she retracted her hand hastily before she could humiliate herself further.

'You've awoken,' she whispered, and then cleared her throat and spoke clearer. 'How are you feeling?'

His left eye was bruised and slightly swollen as he watched her. He opened his mouth to reply, but instead coughed shortly. Her hands twitched on reflex, itching to help, but there wasn't quite anything she could do. Reaching for the jug by the bed, she filled the companion glass with water and lifted it to him. 'Have a sip,' she said quietly.

The man stared at her offering. 'Go on,' she insisted. When he reached for it, however, she could see why he took it from her. Not because he wanted it, was thirsty or needed it to soothe his throat. He took it because it was an order. A command.

'You have no master now,' she told him softly. 'You don't have to do anything you're not inclined to.' He attempted to sit up, grimacing. An air of struggle left his lips and she took the glass away from him. 'Don't force yourself. Lay back down if you're hurting.'

He paused only a moment before complying, sighing through his nose at the released pain.

She put the glass down. 'My name is Petra,' she said. 'My father brought you in last night, said he found you at the docks. It was my mother who healed your wounds. Do you remember anything from last night before you slept?'

'A little, mistress.'

She tensed.

Don't you dare disrespect me or anyone above you, rat. You are nothing, you hear?

The Duke's voice echoed in her mind, haunting and daunting at once.

'I'm not your mistress,' she said tersely, hands fisting in her nightgown.

'You said your family saved my life,' he grimaced in pain. 'Saved something as worthless as my life. I am now in your service.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' she snapped. 'They didn't save you for your servitude. You're not a slave here.' She inhaled sharply. 'What's your name?'

'I don't have one, mistress.'

She frowned. 'I said...what are you saying? Everyone has a name. What is yours? You're from France. French people have names too.'

'I have no name. It was taken from me when I became Lemoi.'

'Then...what do others call you?' She inquired, bemused.

'My masters called me Lemoi, mistress.'

She scoffed. 'That is not a name. What was it before you became Lemoi? Surely you had a name.'

His hands gripped the sheets they lay on, whether because of her questioning or out of pain, she didn't know. 'It is not mine any longer, mistress.'

'I am not your mistress,' she said lowly. 'And that name is yours. Becoming a slave doesn't change your identity.'

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 'Levi.'

She paused, trying the name on her tongue. 'And your family name?'

'Ackerman. My name was Levi Ackerman.'

'Is Levi Ackerman,' she corrected, unable to stop herself. She shifted. 'Nice to meet you, Mr Levi Ackerman.'

He swallowed, eyelids fluttering open and his orbs finding hers in the growing light of sunrise. He wanted to, or rather, needed to reply, but nothing came out. Apologizing for waking him up at such an early time, she bid him good night and quietly left the room.

-X-

'Did you sleep well?' Her father asked her at the breakfast table.

She smiled tightly. 'Not as well as usual, unfortunately.'

He nodded. 'It's expected. Your mother and I have talked about our...situation and we've reached a conclusion.'

'Well?' She pressed, picking up her fork.

'It's part of the law that a master who has abandoned his slave gives the rights to the person who will accept him as their own ten days after the abandonment, without a fee. The Lemoi in our guest room above our heads, now has no master, but is not freed. He is still, by law, a slave.'

Petra resisted rolling her eyes. 'And so? You're going to give him away to someone else?' Levi's words ran through her mind, his use of mistress.

Saved something as worthless as my life. I am now in your service.

He grimaced. 'No, sweetie. We are...going to keep him. Here.'

The fork clattered to the plate, clanking loudly in the dining room. 'No,' she said. 'No. We won't do that, Father. We can't. You said a Lemoi will never enter this house. Those are your words.'

He sighed, and her mother reached across the table to put a hand on his forearm.

'We don't have any choice, Petra. Nobody will be willing to take in a slave abandoned by the Duke and treat him justly. But there is hope.'

Petra raised a brow. 'What is it?'

'A master can legally free his slave after a minimum of eighteen months after ownership. We cannot free a Lemoi because it will only cause them more harm to give them freedom of will that they do not own, but nobody said it always has to be that way?'

She furrowed her brows, thoroughly confused. 'I don't understand.'

'That Lemoi will be our slave, in documents, but we will treat him no different than another person. He will live here until the statute is finished, and by then, we can only pray that he will be,' she paused, 'different. More like us. Human.'

'He is human, Mother. How can you say that?'

She smiled sadly. 'You understand what we are saying, Petra. That man has lived as a possession for a good portion of his life. Lemoi cannot function without a purpose of servitude. If we can change that, we can free him.'

Petra numbly reached for her tea, wrapping her cold fingers around its warmth. 'I didn't know you could change a Lemoi. What if people have tried and failed?'

'Because people do not buy Lemois to make them human again. They buy them because they can't be any longer. But Claude Lemoi is not God. He is but a man and nothing is perfect. Not even his self-confessed creations.'

Silence overtook them, and Petra raised the tea to her lips, sipping little.

'Shall we go up and talk to our new visitor? He should be awake by now.' Her father said cheerily and stood up.

-X-

'How are you feeling?' her mother asked Levi, placing a tray of toast and tea by his bed. He stared at it for a moment, and Petra imagined that if he could express feelings, he would be stunned.

'Better, mistress.'

Her mother was momentarily taken aback but did not comment. 'You will be bedridden for a while, I'm afraid. Your ribs are broken and it'll take some time to heal. Everything else will have to be wrapped with fresh gauze daily, or will heal in its own time. Nothing that will kill you,' she smiled.

He nodded mechanically.

'My name is Peter Ral, and this is my wife, Margaret and my daughter, Petra,' her father introduced. 'Do you have a name?'

'It's Levi,' Petra answered before she could stop herself.

Her parents glanced at her, slightly surprised, but were able to put the pieces together. Her father nodded. 'Levi,' he said. 'Do you understand your situation at this moment? And everything that happened yesterday?'

Levi nodded again. 'My master abandoned me, and I was taken in by your family. You are my new master.'

Her father raised her brows, and Petra spared a side gaze at her mother to catch her surprised expression. 'We've,' her father paused, unsure of how to approach the situation, 'come to a decision with my wife about your arrangements. We've long since sworn off ever buying another slave, let alone a Lemoi, Levi. Having you here as a slave does not make us comfortable, but we cannot just let you leave, as you will most likely have no master who will take you in, nor will your old one free you. We're all in between a rock and a hard place, it seems.' He cleared his throat. 'That is why, we want to let you know of our conclusion and see if you agree.'

'You are my master, I cannot disagree with you.' Levi replied.

Finally overcoming the strangeness of the situation, her father's features smoothed. 'Your personal input will be better appreciated.'

'Yes, master.'

'We will wait ten days for the Duke to have you back. If he does not, you are by law our family's slave. But you will not live as so, not under this roof. You will live with us for the eighteen months to come, and once that time passes, we will free you.'

Levi bowed his head. 'There is no honour in being freed from my master.'

'But I am not your master, nor is my wife and daughter your mistresses. We are your caretakers. You will regard us as such. We will be your family, not your owners. Do you understand?'

'How can a slave act so disrespectfully as to be treated as an equal to those who own him?'

'Do not insult my morals, young man. I will not back down on my oath by accepting to be a Lemoi's master. Legally you may be Ral property but it is a circumstance that cannot be helped.'

Levi bowed his head further, voice dull. 'I apologize.' It was subtle, but Petra noticed that he caught himself before calling her father master yet again.

Do you accept? To be part of this family for eighteen months until we can free you?'

'I'll be here for as long as you allow me.'

'Good.'

-X-

Three weeks. Levi was in bed for two weeks and only after that was he able to stand and move about. His wounds were slowly healing, the bruises fading. His back wounds and heavy gashes on his torso that were so prominent were now fading, slowly but surely.

The first time Petra saw him downstairs, away from the guestroom that now became his permanent residence, she was sitting at the breakfast table, putting butter on her scone when he slowly walked down the stairs, step by step. She raised her head, and it was a surprise to see him standing and looking well, as opposed to his almost-always pained state.

'Good morning, Miss Petra.' He replied. She tried not to notice the new title he gave her as her father had practically forbidden him from calling anyone 'master' or 'mistress' ever again. 'Come have breakfast, I'll bring you-' she stopped, sinking back in her chair.

'There are scones in the kitchen, freshly made. There's butter and jam too. Take whatever you like.'

Her mother had left early in the morning to go see the seamstress, and her father had set off on a trip the very night before. She was alone with the Lemoi, and although she felt no discomfort, she wondered if he did. When he returned from the kitchen, he had only one scone on his plate, and he stood in the doorway, waiting. After a moment, Petra realized he was waiting for her. For her command. She opened her mouth to tell him to sit across her, but it seemed too much. Too sudden for him. 'Sit wherever you feel comfortable.'

He did not sit at the table, nor did he stay in the room.

She remembered her father's words in the past week about how to speak to the Lemoi, how to make him feel comfortable and not confronted by sudden freedom. He needs things to do. It's what Lemois believe they exist for. He'll have odd jobs around the house to keep busy, and don't do anything for him lest he feels useless. But do not make all decisions for him. Some things, let him decide for himself.

And at that moment, that something was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, on his knees with his scone. She realized idly that it was what he would do in the Duke's home. Eat on the floor. Eat minimal. Eat away from his superiors because how dare he do eat in front of his master? She wanted to tell him to move, sit somewhere he won't strain himself or be in discomfort in case he irritated his wounds or pained his ribs. But it was decision he decided to make, and she had no heart to express her dissatisfaction with it.

-X-

'Will you accompany Petra to the market?' Her mother asked Levi the following week after morning tea. 'She has some groceries to pick up for me, I'm sure she'll appreciate the company. Wouldn't you, honey?' She turned to her daughter.

Petra smiled shyly. 'If he doesn't mind.'

Levi stood, ready to follow her. But before they could leave, her mother pulled her aside, murmuring, 'if anyone dare say a word, you know what your father told you.'

-X-

Carrying a basket full of groceries on her arm, Petra raised an orange to Levi's nose. 'Does this one smell ripe to you?'

He stared, and leaning forward, sniffed. 'It smells ripe,' he confirmed.

She took a whiff again, and decided to take his word for it. Tossing it into the basket with an assortment of other fruit and vegetables, they paid for the lot and left the grocer. 'I believe a quick visit to the baker for bread is all there is left to do.'

On the way, Petra tried to ignore the stares they got. Whispers around them were hard not to hear, but Levi was doing a jolly well job of not reacting, so she decided to follow his lead. But when a young boy approached her, confusion written all over his face, she couldn't avoid the confrontation.

'Isn't that the Duke's Lemoi?' The scrawny boy asked, pointing at Levi without shame.

'He is not the Duke's Lemoi any longer.' She asserted, and every person in the street caught her word. No one made a comment, and the boy walked off after mumbling something along the lines of 'he's an ugly man.'

Sparing a glance to her side, Petra assessed his physique. He was not an ugly man, just a dull one. His stiff posture and expression gave off a cold, unapproachable aura, but when she imagined him smiling, she could not imagine him being ugly. In fact, he would be quite handsome. What knocked her out of her train of thoughts was a humourless laugh not several feet in front of her.

'So he's not dead.' A voice exclaimed, causing her shoulders to tense.

Looking up slowly, she met eyes with the Duke.

'My lord,' she bowed her head respectfully, if not coldly.

'I see you've got my Lemoi, young lady. Perhaps he is of more use to you than he was to me. It is why I left him out to rot in the first place. What are you doing, Lemoi?' His voice soured as he turned to Levi.

She could feel the tension and stiffness in Levi's body increase, if it was even possible.

'Why are you not bowing down to those higher than you, filth? Have you still not learned?'

Petra stood, momentarily stunned at the Duke's sheer audacity to continue to order the man around. Beside her, Levi forcefully and slowly began to kneel, and Petra watched in horror as it unfolded, her hands freezing in place.

'To the ground, where your forehead belongs,' the Duke sneered. And it was that, the arrogance, pure superiority in his voice that snapped Petra's arms into motion. Catching Levi's forearm before he could bow, she tugged it with great force. 'What are you doing?' She snapped. Looking up at the Duke, she glared.

'I believe you forfeited the right to order him as you please when you abandoned him to rot, my lord. You have no authority over my Lemoi. I ask that you act within your boundaries.'

The Duke raised his brows, surprised at her blast of confidence. 'Your behaviour can get you in trouble, girl. You should speak with respect.'

'It is you who lacks the respect, my lord. Only the king himself has the power to command the Lemois under another's possession. You are over estimating your power when it comes to my property.' It left a bitter taste in her mouth to say it, but an example had to be set. She had to leave her mark, on the Duke and everyone here. 'Are you still kneeling?' She demanded, glaring at Levi. He stood wordlessly and she turned back to the Duke. 'I followed the procedure of the law. You abandoned your Lemoi and had ten days to recollect him if it was your wish. You did not, and therefore, he is under the command of his masters who accept him into their home. That is the roles of you and I, my lord. We should all know our place.'

The streets were frozen. No sound, no noise. Only the blow of the wind was audible to everyone's ears. It was that afternoon that it was clear. The Duke's Lemoi, was no longer the Duke's Lemoi. The Duke and everybody in witness knew it. And should anyone wonder, she called him Levi. An identity to which he was entitled to. As they left to go home, deciding against the bakery visit, Petra wondered whether he felt any more of a free man.

-X-

After that day, Petra refused to allow Levi out with her for more than two weeks, refusing to allow the town folk to look him down again. But she knew he grew bored in the house, even though he didn't express as such. Surely, he was bored. He was human. So instead, she spent as much time with him as possible. She read beside him, knitted scarves near him and spoke to him as much as she could without feeling like she was being too forceful. He had no complaints, he never did.

'Did you have a family in France?' She asked one day when they were hanging laundry together. He offered her a pair of her father's pants for hanging. 'No, Miss Petra.'

'Why not?'

'I was an orphan.'

'Oh, I see. Did you have a lover? Maybe a wife?'

A pause. 'None, Miss Petra.'

She frowned. Rumours of his assassin past were doubtful to her, although she was not oblivious enough to believe he wasn't a weapons master. He was older than she by at least eight years she was sure, so it was hard to believe he had no human relations before his capture. She analysed his face as he handed her the next item of clothing, this time one of her mother's dresses, but she was too caught up in his features to take it. He did not react as she observed him, taking in all his features even as his arm was extended. He waited patiently, not uttering a word as she lifted a hand to his nose. She gentle ran a finger over the rim, and if she wasn't so observant, she wouldn't have noticed the way he flinched ever so slightly under her touch. 'It's crooked,' she murmured.

It was from the incident all those years ago, she remembered. When the Duke had stepped on him in the street. Afterwards, it was clear he never saw a proper apothecary to have the broken bone treated. Her eyes met his, caught up in the swirl of grey that was as empty as the day she met him. But despite his lack of emotion, this time, he wasn't tense. No, his face was almost relaxed, as though he had abandoned his guard and felt calm. He looked good when he was calm.

Snapped out of her trance only by a chirping bird above, she blinked, and hastily took the dress from him. 'Thank you.'

-X-

By the third month of Levi's arrival to the Ral household, Petra could hardly remember before him. He was as void of feelings as he had always been, but with time, she noticed he felt more flexible in his decisions. By the fifth month, he allowed himself a second scone during breakfast, and even some jam something he'd never before put on his plate.

'Did the jam taste good?' she asked as they washed the dishes.

He was silent. '

'You didn't like it then?' she pressed.

'No, Miss Petra. It was a bit too sweet for my taste.' He'd never spoken of his preferences before. Never claimed to like or dislike anything. But now that he had, she felt a burden lift off her chest. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips as she put away the last of the plates.

'I guess we will just find you other condiments to enjoy with your breakfast then, won't we?' She grinned, and he was ever so hesitant when he nodded. 'As Miss Petra wishes.'

-X-

Petra was thrilled when Elizabeth visited them a week later, with her close to five year old daughter who had wild blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. She hadn't seen them in months, and couldn't contain her excitement as little Bessie threw herself into her arms screaming 'Auntie Petra!' loudly. Petra laughed as she lifted the girl and twirled her around, making sure she was giggling with dizziness before showering her with kisses.

'It's been so long since I've seen you,' she exclaimed, unable to keep the delight from her voice. Elizabeth and her mother's laugh could be heard from the family room. A few minutes later, she entered with Bessie in her arms.

'Your mother said you were grocery shopping. We decided to wait for you to come home,' Elizabeth said as she stood to greet Petra.

'I'm glad,' Petra grinned. 'It feels like it's been years.'

'It does,' Elizabeth smiled, but it faltered slightly when she noticed the presence behind her. Petra turned to see Levi standing awkwardly in the doorway, watching them. She worried over Elizabeth reacting negatively to the news, but the older woman covered her emotions quickly with a wide smile. 'You must be Levi. Margaret has told me so much about you.'

Levi nodded.

Petra lifted Bessie a little higher in her arms, 'this is Elizabeth and her daughter, Bessie. She brought me up when I was younger.'

'It's a pleasure, Miss Elizabeth,' he declared, although his voice suggested otherwise. Petra had long learned to not take his indifference personally. It seemed Elizabeth was quick to also do so. 'Likewise,' she replied.

Bessie wriggled in her arms, as though asking to be let down, which Petra obliged to. Walking up to the young man, the little girl pulled on his tunic, as though demanding his attention.

'Is your name Levi?' she asked brightly, her voice affected slightly by a child's lisp that made her all the more delightful. Petra smiled, but couldn't nudge away the worry that Levi might react unfavourably.

He was silent for a few moments before he nodded, 'yes it is.' Bessie giggled in response and grabbed his hand, causing him to lurch forward. 'I'm Bessie,' she stated proudly.

Petra had grown to used to interpreting his subtle facial responses that she immediately noticed the softening in his eyes. 'Pleasure to meet you, Miss Bessie.'

-X-

'What did you think of Bessie?' she asked him later that night before she retired to bed.

'She is an agreeable child.' He replied.

'She is. Quite adorable for her age.'

'Indeed.'

Petra hesitated a little, unable to look at him as she asked, 'would you like to have kids some day?'

She was met by silence, one that stretched long enough to have her glance up at him. And what she saw froze her to the spot. It was ever so slight, but there was a small smile gracing his lips, tugging the corners of his mouth. His face was stiff, as though unused to accommodating such an expression, but it was absolutely, visibly there.

'Perhaps one day, Miss Petra.'

-X-

So this was originally meant to be a one shot but it's dragging on too long so I've decided to turn it into a two-shot.

Hopefully it peaked your interest enough to leave a review and tell me your thoughts!

I dont intend to drag on the update, so if you stick around, I'll see you again with the second and final chapter soon!

Love & Respect

xx