Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with Ashita no Nadja.

A Brother's Assistance

Something was seriously wrong, but Francis couldn't quite pin it down.

No--that wasn't quite right--he knew that it had to do with Maryann. The thing was, the reason behind the sense of wrongness escaped him entirely.

Everything was perfect.

Keith had returned from his period of hiding after ending the Black Rose, and now he and Francis were courting Nadja: competing for her, so to speak. Naturally, with things as they were, Francis was keeping his relationship with Nadja entirely platonic—though he had reason to believe that Keith stole the occasional kiss from the not-entirely-opposed girl and could not say the same.

Not that Francis minded that much. Keith's love for Nadja was intense and passionate; Francis's love for Nadja was quiet, and about mutual understanding.

And after he thought about that, Francis would always feel the already-present wrongness grow wronger. Because shouldn't it make him feel jealousy or...or something, anything other than mild endearment at the way Keith displayed such passion for the girl, and Nadja blushed brightly at the mere mention of Keith?

It was a sign that Francis had already lost, and yet he didn't feel begrudging of his brother in the least. Things were just the way they were, and Francis couldn't even find the presence of mind to ponder the strangeness of that because knowing as well as he did that there was no doubt that he loved Nadja, the Maryann issue was far more pressing on his mind.



The arranged marriage between Francis and Maryann had been officially terminated a year ago when Duke Preminger had offered hes financial assistance to the House of Harcourt at Nadja's request and Keith had come home to help out reinstating the house. This Francis had no objection to. In fact, he had had many objections to wedding his childhood friend. But as soon as the engagement had been broken, Maryann had begun to make herself scarce.

Maryann, who had previously visited the Harcourt Manor on a nearly daily basis and accompanied Francis on half--no, more than that--of his charity missions, was suddenly nowhere in Francis's vicinity.

The social butterfly that she was, Maryann still attended every party, ball, and other such social event of importance. But whenever Francis attended such an event (sometimes on his father's orders, other times simply to find and speak with Maryann), Maryann was always surrounded by people.

These people were never just any people either: they were dukes and duchesses, and sometimes even kings and queens, or occasionally the children of dukes, duchesses, kings and queens. Francis could not bring himself to interrupt, because to do so uninvited would be to disrespect the important personage, and worse, Maryann.



The word was that when not at important social events, at the charity events that she had begun to sponsor, or assisting her father with his accounting, Maryann spent as much time as she could in the Library of London. Francis had tried visiting on a number of occasions, but Maryann always seemed to hurry away without sparing Francis so much as a glance as soon as, and sometimes even before, he spotted her.

After a few months of this, even Francis could no longer deny that she was avoiding him.

This was not to say that they never spoke at all. But when they did, it was cool, quick, and uninvolved. On one occasion they had discussed the weather for ten full minutes. On another they had reminisced of their childhood, but just as Francis had begun to think that things were returning to normal, Maryann had asked after Nadja and vanished before Francis had completed the second sentence of his enthusiastic reply.



Frankly, it astounded Francis how much he had taken Maryann for granted. With her gone, it was like he had lost a part of himself. She had always been there when he was faced with a tough decision, in need of a second opinion, or simply desired another's company. No one could read him like Maryann could--no one else could understand so much before he had uttered a word.

Never had Francis felt so strongly that he needed a person. Even the half year during which he had refrained from seeing Nadja for Keith's sake while he was in hiding, it had never been nearly this hard. Parted from Nadja, he had simply missed someone important and dear to him, whose company he immensely enjoyed. Parted from Maryann...he missed her presence by his side so much that it went well beyond the simple word 'missing.'



Francis supposed that this was just the difference between brotherly love and romantic love. Who knew that brotherly love would be so much more intense than the romantic kind? He supposed that it just went to show how much more important family was than romance.

Which brought him to where he was, sitting at his desk writing Maryann a letter.

The supposedly simple process of composing a letter was turning out not to be quite so simple. Francis couldn't even begin it: "To Miss Maryann of the House of Hamilton" sounded far too formal, "To Miss Maryann" still sounded to formal for Francis's taste, and "Dearest Maryann" was just too familiar a way to address one who had been avoiding him like the Plague for over a year. So after a great deal of mental strife, Francis chose to leave the top line blank--he could fill it in later.


Still, it was a full two hours later that Francis finally frowned down at the draft of a letter which, apart from the lack of address, looked appropriate to send to Maryann to his eyes.



"Francis, what are you-" Francis nearly jumped out of his skin when Keith came barging through the door and turned to stare at his twin. "Francis, why are you looking at me like you're a deer I just cornered and am about to shoot?"



"I am not." Francis winced even as he spoke the words: So childish, he thought.

But Keith's interest was lost in favor of the letter.

"What's that? It's not Madmoselle de Chateaux begging one of our hands in marriage again, is it? Because if it is, I'm writing to her to-"


"It's a letter for Maryann." A pause.

"From Madmoselle de Chateaux? How odd. That she wrote it at all, of course, but also that she should have it delivered to us. Why on earth would she do that?" Keith was hiding a smirk. Damn, he wasn't intending to let up until Francis spilled everything.



"I wrote to her apologizing for my past behavior and to ask her to come back."

Keith looked utterly delighted, for some reason. And smug. Francis got the distinct feeling that he was missing something.



"Finally noticed, did you?" smirked Keith, and Francis wondered what, exactly, Keith had been expecting him to notice. "It's about time. A little longer and you would've missed out altogether, what with..." Keith trailed off, looking at Francis like something on his face was out of place.

"Francis. Give me that letter."

Keith's voice was hard and tense, and Francis simply could not protest as his twin snatched the letter from his fingers. There was a brief silence as Keith read, his eyes narrowing and glaring harder with each second that passed.

Then, just as Francis thought that Keith would explode with this inexplicable anger, Keith ripped the letter in half. Even Francis's dismayed cry drowned his his throat when Keith turned on him with flashing eyes.



"'I have realized that you are as dear to me as a sister, and I want you by my side for as long as we both may live'?" Keith quoted the letter with venom. His voice was mocking. "What is wrong with you? Even Nadja noticed, and she hasn't even realized that Kennosuke, TJ, Oliver and Christian are all pursuing her romantically! Really, it's no wonder you and Nadja get along so well! You're two of a kind!"



"But..." Francis had fully expected Keith to interrupt him at this point to continue with his rant at this point, and so had not considered his words any further than that. But Keith just stood there with his arms crossed, towering over Francis and glaring at him, waiting for an explanation. "But...I don't see what you want me to tell her. That letter was my best effort."



"Tell me," said Keith, uncrossing his arms, and his voice was suddenly gentle. Francis felt a horrible foreboding and prepared himself for the worst. "What would you do if I told you that I've been kissing Nadja, and have been spying on you when you spend time with her because I'm very passionately in love with and extremely possessive of Nadja?"


Francis almost laughed. "Oh, is that all? I knew that--well, not that you'd been spying on me. But I know that your love for her is different from mine."

Keith's eyebrows shot up, and the look in his eyes gave Francis the impression that Keith thought him rather moronic.

"And if I told you that Father's been making marriage arrangements for me--with Maryann?"


Francis fell out of his chair. "Maryann! But you...and Nadja...and Maryann!"



"You refused, so Father thought he'd try with me, instead. I fully intend to refuse, of course." But before Francis could breathe a sigh of relief, "But naturally, Maryann's father knew I would. I hear he's been attempting to make arrangements for her with Oscar of the House of Corrolade. Quite the young man, I hear. Nadja has nothing but good to say about him—he's her cousin, you know—and Maryann doesn't appear to oppose the match."



Francis decided it best to ignore the strange tightness in his chest. "Well, if she's happy with that, I suppose I ought to add a congratulations in my letter."



Keith stared down at him with a look that could only be described as murderous. "That's it? You don't feel anything resembling sadness or...or a tightness in your chest, or anything like that?"



Francis blinked. "Isn't that how any brother would hear to hear that his sister, who won't even talk to him decently, is getting married?"



There was a sort of glint in Keith's eyes, and Francis was beginning to seriously fear for his life. Unfortunately, Keith stood between him and the door. "Really? And I suppose that if I told you that Nadja and I are already engaged, you'd feel happy for us?"

Apart for a twinge of regret, thought Francis, but Keith wasn't looking for a reply.

"You're coming with me." And Francis was dragged out of the Harcourt Manor by the arm and into a carriage (why had it been waiting there? Had Keith been planning this?), where Keith ordered the driver to take them to Hamilton Manor and Francis was feeling just a touch too disoriented to object or ask why.



They didn't talk at all during the ride, and upon reaching their destination, Keith dragged Francis inside and through the manor. They stopped in front of a room that Francis recognized as Maryann's, and instead of knocking like a decent person, Keith barged in like he did to Francis's room.


"Really, Keith, I've asked you to knock often enough," Maryann said from her desk without looking around, and the tightness in Francis's chest grew tighter, though he couldn't quite tell whether it was just from seeing her for the first time in so long, or because of the casual way in which she treated Keith's barging into her personal chamber.


"I want to wed Nadja," said Keith, and Francis stared at him and opened his mouth, but—

"I know that," said Maryann, and Francis could hear her rolling her eyes. "The betrothal wasn't my idea."


"I'm going to protest to Father."


"We both know that he isn't going to listen." But hadn't Keith said...?


"I know."

There just was no room in the conversation for Francis to get a word in edgewise, and he was dying to say something.

"Which is why one of us has to elope, thus making the union impossible."


"So elope with Nadja."


"She's far too young. And Francis would kill me—he still thinks he's in love with her."

Francis opened his mouth, but Maryann protested for him.

"He is."

"Oh, don't be absurd. You and I both know that he's an incredibly confused individual."

Maryann's reply of silence (finally) gave Francis the chance to speak. "Am I allowed to pretend I'm here, now?"

Maryann swung around to stare at him like he was holding her at gunpoint. But Keith went on without missing a beat.

"Which means that you're going to be the one who's going to do the eloping, doesn't it?"

"Given the...situation, if you suggest that I elope with Oscar, I will personally see to it that you are gutted and fried." Francis couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at that—though the fact that Maryann wasn't taking her eyes from him was making him rather self-conscious.

"Not at all." Keith's voice held amusement of the sadistic sort, and Francis was once again fearing for his life. "Why do you think I brought Francis along?"

There was a long pause as Maryann froze, Keith smiled, and Francis mused over the puzzle that was life.

"You can't be suggesting-"

"But I am."

"But he-"

"Just needs some convincing."

"But I-"

"Know exactly what to do."

"But-"

"Would you rather wed the love of your life and live in marital bliss with many, many children, or leave the two of us to be miserably wed for all eternity? Your choice."

"Well, given the situation-"

"Just keep in mind that option two leaves two certain other individuals doubtlessly wed in misery for all eternity as well."

This time the pause was only brief before Maryann reacted. She walked up to Francis with a purposeful stride, and Francis found himself rooted to the spot despite his obviously impending doom.

When Maryann grabbed him by the tie, Francis irrationally expected to be murdered—and then he was tugged down and Maryann's mouth was on his. For a moment, Francis stood frozen, paralyzed by shock. Then Maryann's hand on his tie loosened and reached up to stroke his face, and he knew she was crying. His chest tightened even further.

And then the world did a cartwheel and a couple flips, and suddenly everything made perfect sense. The wrongness that Francis had been feeling in the world vanished without a trace, and the tight knots in his chest untangled and smoothed and then became a heated pounding as Francis wrapped one arm around Maryann and used the other hand to tilt her head a little as he kissed his long-time friend with a passion he never knew he possessed.

When they finally pulled apart, it was half because they needed air, and half because Francis felt that something had to be said at this point. But when he saw her with her face flushed and her hair disheveled, something welled up in him that was hot and strangely familiar, and he choked on his words as he struggled with the disbelief at the fact that it had taken him so long to realize that he loved her dearly—and not like a sister at all.

"I'm so sorry," Francis whispered into her hair: one of the only two things he could say just then. And it was closely followed by the other, "I love you so much."

And then Maryann was repeating both phrases back to him and they were both crying and hugging and kissing until—

"This is all very nice and I hate to interrupt, but would you please get on with it? I'd really rather not marry my brother's established lover." Francis and Maryann blinked as Keith and the room proceeded to materialize around them once more.

With a mischievous smile, Keith slipped something into Francis's hand and left the room. Staring after him, Francis looked down at the item in his hand...and blinked again as he recognized the box that contained their mother's wedding ring—something that should have gone to Nadja by Keith's birthright.

Then Francis realized the enormity of what they were about to do, and glanced at Maryann nervously, wondering if it was right to marry her just because of the situation. Maybe if they talked with their fathers...

And then he looked at her, really looked, and knew that nothing would prevent him from marrying her, be it a large wedding or an eloping. Whatever she thought best, he would do.

Keith was humming self-contentedly as he walked along the corridors of Harcourt Manor. When his Aunt Emma appeared before him with a paper in her hand and lightning in her eyes, he smiled charmingly.

"Yes, Aunt?"

"Francis and Maryann have run away to elope." Keith continued to beam down at his aunt. "They seem to have been under the impression that the marriage proposal was intended only for you, and they had no option but to elope." Keith's smile widened. "I know that you had something to do with this. I also know that you knew perfectly well that the proposal was left open for either of you—it leaned towards Francis, in fact."

"Dearest Aunt Emma," Keith sighed. "We both know that I am going to be eloping with Nadja in a few years' time." Emma gave an outraged choke, but could not deny it. "We also both know that I don't care a whit what you or Father has to say on the issue. Francis, however, is going to be a different issue. He loves Nadja like a sister, and he's going to want a proper marriage for her. His protests I'm not going to be able to ignore quite so easily. So what better way to quiet those protests than to have him elope before I do?"

Keith walked off then, and Emma found herself with a terrible headache mingling with vague admiration. Sometimes, she wondered why she even bothered.