A/N: Secret Santa gift for sorunort/rxcusant on tumblr! Happy Holidays, I hope you like it!
Jeanne had been told that tracking down a De Sade has always been trouble for Lord Ruthven. Lady Dominique was no different, and locating her appeared to be even more hopeless after learning from one of the border guards that she left for Paris without her usual attire. For whatever reason she left like that remained a mystery, but Jeanne had to guess that it was to possibly keep her on a leash.
Her eyes cast downward in a mixture of embarrassment and shame — of course Lady Dominique had to keep an eye on her! — when she felt one of Lord Ruthven's hands rest atop her shoulder.
She looked up at him questioningly until he pointed to a seated pair at a coffee shop table. "That wouldn't be her, would it?"
"Huh?" Jeanne had to squint to see the pair. One of them was a much shorter person with fluffy-looking, light hair and excited blue eyes. The other had a face of sophistication and perfect posture, all while appearing casual at the same time. That could have most definitely been Lady Dominique.
She felt herself relax at the sight of sunrise-golden eyes. Yes, that was certainly her.
"Jeanne."
The girl turned to face Lord Ruthven. "Teacher," she breathed.
His lips turned upright into a warm smile. "Stay with Dominique De Sade."
She bowed her head at the command. She knew that he did not want her near the Beast of Gévaudan. She was not in possession of her gauntlet at all.
Trying to erase all traces of fluster, Jeanne inhaled deeply before making her way over to the pair. The shorter of the two noticed first, pausing midway in their conversation to smile at Jeanne. Lady Dominique followed suit and grinned widely.
"Jeanne!" She stood up. "You're back!"
Jeanne was not prepared for the onslaught of a hug she received from Lady Dominique. The latter squished Jeanne's face with cold hands and said, "Oh, my, you're so warm." She tilted her head at her. "Did you get him off your back?"
Jeanne allowed a hand to lift to her mouth. "No," she said. "He still likes me."
Lady Dominique did not seem surprised. Instead, she smiled and brought Jeanne to her seat, warm from Lady Dominique's heat. Jeanne's cheeks flushed at that before meeting her gaze with the boy.
His eyes were a deep blue, familiar, and she couldn't quite name why it ignited a spark of hostility from within her chest. And yet, he seemed nice enough with lips upturned in a smile so pure that he looked like a saint. The way he held himself, his composure, his greeting, his voice — it screamed kindness and etiquette at her. He was a cute child, not as cute as Master Luca but charming nonetheless.
Despite such a first impression, Jeanne couldn't stop delving into those eyes of his.
Lady Dominique noticed quickly, though. She took ahold of Jeanne's hands and said, "Jeanne, this is Misha. He invited me to have some pastries." With her head, Lady Dominique gestured towards the table where Jeanne found a basket of cookies and puffs rearing their powdered heads at her. Though not as dizzying as Vanitas' blood, the sweets did manage to make her mouth water and she had a hard time focusing on the melodic voice speaking to her.
Lady Dominique was so beautiful, so pretty. Kind. She fought for those she cared for as hard as she could fight for herself. How had Jeanne even become acquainted with such a siren? Lady Dominique was just as distracting as the sweets before Jeanne.
Jeanne held on tighter to Lady Dominique's hands, removing her gaze from the tray to feast upon Lady Dominique's own golden hues. When she spotted Lady Dominique swallow, she gasped in response. They were staring into each other's eyes, hands held in one another's custody, with an ever-growing collection of rose-colored cheeks on Jeanne's part. She should look away, shouldn't she? Surely, Lady Dominique–
"Well, well," came a voice. Like static electricity shocking Jeanne from her stupor, she peered at the owner of the voice, not having noticed the way Dominique flinched at the intrusion.
"I'd hate to interrupt," Misha cleared his throat. "But if I were to continue sitting here watching you two bat lashes, I'd say that Lady Domi and Lady Jeanne would go right on ahead and carry on without even acknowledging my existence."
The implications were clear enough and Jeanne nearly jumped out of her seat. "Oh– oh! No, you–"
"–you weren't interrupting anything."
In her own heated daze, Jeanne nearly missed Lady Dominique's statement. Her voice was chagrined — of course, it's all my fault! — and faintly strained. Jeanne looked up to find Lady Dominique piercing the cobbled ground with a glare and rose-dusted cheeks.
…had she caused trouble for Lady Dominique?
With an unrelenting wave of despair hanging over her, Jeanne first faced Misha with saddened eyes. He stared back at her with a weary pair of blue. It looked too familiar.
"Hey," he sighed. She watched as he picked a cookie from the basket, powder falling gently onto his clothes. "Don't give me that look." He offered it to Jeanne who reluctantly accepted it with a shaky hand. "Just make up, you guys. Don't get all crushed just because you were about to cuddle and I happened to prevent a scene in the middle of Paris." He drove Jeanne closer towards Lady Dominique, the bourreau finding it within herself to stutter out hushed protests. Lady Dominique had even stopped lamenting to eye the two.
When Jeanne appeared right in front of Lady Dominique, Misha grabbed her arm and pushed it towards the De Sade.
"Forget I'm here, okay?" he said. "You can feed her, Lady Jeanne, just please don't be upset." The two women paused at Misha's proposal.
It was Lady Dominique who broke the ice with a chuckle. "…what? Feed me?" She snatched the cookie from Jeanne's hand and into her own. "I don't think so." In a second, the cookie crumbled and what was left were chocolate stains on her glove.
She fiddled her way over to the basket and took a moment before emerging with a pink puff.
"Jeanne loves the overbearingly sweet ones." Just like Noé, she thought. Plopping it into Jeanne's mouth, she let out a laugh. But Noé's not even close to being as cute as Jeanne. When the pastry was bitten, the filling began its journey out of the puff and into Jeanne's mouth, leaving an unsuspecting Jeanne to fumble with red jam leaking out and depositing itself onto her fingers and lower lip.
Jeanne squeaked, face blushing. "Oh no," she cried. "Lady Dominique! Y-you picked these clothes out for me, they could get ruined!"
Domi giggled. How cute.
She brought her hand down on Jeanne's head and stroked her hair. "That's alright." Domi turned to face Misha who was peering down at his hands, his face unreadable and eyes calculating something in his head. Distraught? No, maybe assessing or contemplative. Slowly, he looked up at Domi and gave a small smile.
Secretive that boy was. Just like Vanitas. Jeanne would distress if she found out that he was just like that man. Maybe it would be best to keep her wondering until she found out on her own.
For now, Jeanne needed space to breathe away from that man, and maybe Misha's idea of feeding her would provide sweet solace to her. Domi wouldn't mind, Misha could keep to himself, and Jeanne was a worrywart — but that was why Domi was there.