A/N: I got a much better first response to this story than I was expecting--so I was motivated to write another chapter. Anyway, enjoy. =3


Impeccable Timing

Marta had scowled at her tea. Indeed, when she was allowed her first tea session with her father, she was thrilled (she was fascinated with anything romantic and fantasy-like). However now it had grown to be a tedious repetition. Marta would have been soothed by the way pink flower pedals would drift gracefully onto the table and sometimes into her tea when she was younger, but now it just seemed to be fake.

"Uh-hem"

When her father had given that obviously false cough, Marta realized that she really was scowling, and quickly returned to the smile she wore before. The smile would have been slightly more genuine, however, if Alice and Decus weren't having tea in the courtyard with them as well.

"It's so lovely and mild weathered today, isn't it, Marta?"

"Yes, Dad—Father, it is."

Marta had been forbidden from calling her father "Daddy" as well—the term wasn't formal enough.

"I just can't wait to practice and study manners with you this evening, my dear princess." Alice had commented when she had noticed Marta's slip up.

The note of sarcasm was so obvious in her voice, Marta so desperately wanted to bash her face inward. It had taken a lot of her will power to merely hold back the scowl that she felt coming across her face. She drank from the tea cup again—ugh...

"Alice, you're so ladylike already, that you needn't study manners..."

Marta tuned herself out at that moment. She didn't want to hear Decus fawning all over Alice again. Their conversations always ended up being the same anyway. Decus would compliment Alice in some way, Alice would sadly attempt to be modest, Decus would compliment her again, then Alice would tell him to stop—in a polite, "ladylike" manner of course. Thankfully Brute had interrupted them this time.

"I am curious to know where our crumpets are," He turned toward a nearby servant, "Might I inquire why they are late?"

"Just a moment, Your Majesty, they should be here very soon."

As if that was a cue, the door to the courtyard opened. Marta didn't bother to look—the expressions that the servants wore were all the same: indifferent and nearly emotionless. She noticed, however, that her father, Alice, and Decus could not move their gaze from the door. When she heard the new voice echo in the air, she could understand why.

"S-sorry to keep you waiting, your Majesties..."

It was Emil.

Marta immediately turned her head in his direction. Staring at his face seemed to thrust her into some sort of fantasy land that she had dreamed while in her room. This servant that intrigued her so much really was a reality. He was carrying an elaborate silver tray with several crumpets mounted on it. It certainly did not match the clothing he wore, which was a white tunic with turquoise hems and simple black pants. Marta had observed all of this in a second, because shortly afterward she had let out an involuntary gasp.

Emil's eyes darted toward Marta and let out a squeak. He had nearly dropped the tray he was holding, but quickly regained his balance. His mouth flew open as if he was either going to scream or say something. Marta's expression was the same—and for a moment, the two did not look away from each other. Brute, Alice, and Decus all looked between the two with awestruck confusion. For a moment the air carried a heavy tension. Then when Marta was finally aware of what she was doing, she quickly looked away, then hesitantly raised her head toward her father. If Marta had not been involved in this situation, she most likely would have giggled at his expression. However she grew deeply embarrassed when she had met his gaze. She quickly looked back down at her ginori tea cup.

Emil had hesitantly walked over toward the table where the nobles sat at and carefully placed the tray on the edge, being sure not to set his gaze upon Marta. He deeply bowed as he backed away from the table, uttering nearly under his breath,

"H-Have a lovely afternoon, Majesties."

He was out of the courtyard quicker than prey running from a predator.

There was a strange silent in the courtyard after that moment and at the same time, a wave of panic swept over Marta. What sort of royalty acknowledged servants in that sort of flustered manner? And why was she flustered in the first place? Marta's mind spun in circles as she slowly lifted her head to glance at Alice and then Decus, who had looks of complete and utter shock—though a few moments later, it seemed Alice was trying to hold in a burst of laughter. Marta's eyes turned from them to her father, whose eyes seemed to hold fury glazed over with disappointment. At that moment, Marta slowly stood up, shaking.

"I will excuse myself for the afternoon."

She then slowly strode away—and it took a great amount of effort to do so. If all sets of eyes were not fixed on her, Marta would have sprinted across the courtyard, slammed the door open, and vanish as quickly as possible into the castle. The time that it took to merely get to the door seemed like hours...and the silence was still so piercing. Oh, how embarrassing!

Studying manners with Alice later that evening was worse.

"So, Martmart, is there a secret your keeping from me?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Alice sat across the table from Marta, of course keeping her eyes fixed on her target. She lifted her elbows onto the table and crossed her fingers so that her hands formed a resting place for her chin. She sneered at Marta with an evil glint in her eye.

"You seemed to know that stuttering servant boy quite well for a princess."

She was directly attacking her...

"Alice, I hardly know him."

"Oh so you do know him to some degree then?"

Thankfully at that moment, their instructor had spoken up.

"Alice—you do not put your elbows on the table!"

Marta did not know how she had endured going through a whole hour with her. What was even worse was that she constantly thought of how her father would treat her. Because of this, she was avoiding him like the plague, but still had the haunting image of him eventually finding her and lecturing her. However what bothered her the most is that even after all this embarrassment—she still wanted to see this Emil again. Her thoughts were chaos—her head began to ache. Marta needed some way to relax...

She had informed her servants that she was on her way to the bath when she had returned from studying manners. Marta had refused any assistance—she wanted to be alone as much as possible. After hanging her change of clothes on the rack, filling the tub with water, and placing her bath robes next to it, she undressed and submerged herself in the bubbly water. The direct warmth on her skin was refreshing, and all her tense muscles eased at once. A great, satisfied sigh passed her lips then.

Sinking a little lower into the water, Marta collected her thoughts from the mess they were a few moments before. The aching in her head ceased when order was made from the chaos within her mind. Naturally, she began to dwell on her recent memories—of course being careful to avoid the embarrassing moments to some degree. For the first time, however, her thoughts weren't driven to strange fantasy worlds that never existed—but rather to the memory of the boy, Emil. She slowly had begun to grow fond of the strand that stood straight up on his had. And what piercing eyes he had...She wondered what he would look like with a smile—the thought of it made her heart flutter.

...Marta's eyes widened.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

How could this be? She didn't even have a face-to-face conversation with him yet! Why would she—how? Marta's thoughts began to swirl again...a lightheaded feeling overtook her whole body—her arms began to feel numb, and her heart burned with a strange passion she did not know before...almost to the point where it was painful. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as the feeling within her began to intensify. Marta was very grateful that she was alone that moment.

Or so she thought...

The door to the room had opened, and behind the stack of towels being carried...was Emil.

Could his timing be more inconvenient?

A scream ripped from Marta's lips as she curled up in an attempt to cover herself. Her face was the color of a tomato now, and when Emil saw her, so was his. Soon, both of their screams collided in some strange musical chord that echoed in the brilliant acoustics of the bathroom. Emil didn't even bother to pick up the towels he dropped as he scrambled his way out yelling,

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The door behind him slammed shut and subsequently another yell was heard from down the hall.

"Emil—knock! You knock before going into the bathroom!"

Marta didn't know how to compare this to what happened earlier in the day. She placed her hands on either side of her head and sunk even lower in the bathtub. She couldn't believe how the events were laying out—how common was it for a royal noble to see the same servant so many times in the passed few days when there were possibly hundreds of other servants? Of course, even though Emil had left the room, he would not leave her mind. Marta squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth when the strange, fiery feeling gripped her body again. She decided she would not leave until she had fully collected her thoughts and gathered a perfectly sane mind.

She did not leave the bathroom until several hours later...

The night was completely dark now—no trace of light streamed through the windows. Marta didn't even bother to change into the clothes she had brought with her, she just put on her bathrobe. It must have been nearly midnight...No servants would be working at this hour, so she assumed it to be perfectly safe to walk around in such a manner. Even so, she peeked her head out into the hallway, just to make sure. When she had perceived it to be safe, Marta came completely out.

The castle was strangely relaxing at this time of night when it was empty...it was like walking in one of her own fantasy worlds. She was walking barefoot too—it may have been stone rather than grass, but the feeling was somehow intoxicating. Streams of blue moonlight illuminated her skin every time she passed a window as her quiet steps ghostly echoed down the air of the hallway. She turned the corner to the hall where her room was.

...And there was Emil.

Realizing that it was indecent to scream, Marta fought back the sound that nearly escaped her throat and reduced it back to a gasp. Emil did the same. Then a strange silence followed... Marta's body was tense...her heart was beating rapidly...and her arms were numb again... This time however, she wanted to control her own situation—so she put on the mask of a princess and calmly walked passed him.

"Excuse me..."

To her utter surprise, she was halted by his own voice.

"Why are you so proper?" It sounded more commanding than what she had heard from before.

Marta slowly turned around and faced him, with curiosity glazing her eyes, "Excuse me?"

"You don't really seem the type to be all proper like that...it's like you're faking it."

Could he read her mind?

Marta did not know how to react—she didn't know what to say. So all she could do was just stand there, gazing at Emil who had completely caught her by surprise. When the silence began to get drawn out, a small smirk appeared on Emil's face.

"You should probably get to bed...it's late."

For a moment, Marta did not register what he had said—or rather, it had taken a full five seconds for the words to process in her mind. She nodded and began to turn around.

"Wait—"

Immediately she faced him again, ready to take in every sight of him. His voice echoed again, this time intoxicating Marta in such a way that she was entranced and thrown into ecstasy.

"What's your name?"

"...I-It's Marta."

Emil smirked, "Well then, see you...Marta..."

He turned away from her and began to walk in the opposite direction. But for a moment, his eyes caught a bit of the light that came through the window. Marta cocked her head in confusion... weren't his eyes green? At that moment, she could clearly see that Emil's eyes were far from that—at that moment, they were red.