Title: Of Sparrows and Princes

Author: sllebswap

Beta'd by: MelissaRose85

Characters/Pairing:Miura Haru and Belphegor

Type: OneShot Collection (InComplete)

Genre: Romance/General/Humor

Word Count: 6892

Rating: T (Contains content not suitable for children)

Disclaimer: Kateikyoushi Hitman Reborn belongs to Akira-san.

Summary: TYL ficlet. Various one-shots depicting the complicated relationship between Belphegor and Haru.

Chapter Last Revised on: 04/01/13


Chapter Forty Nine


The following afternoon, Haru could be found sitting in the private living room of Galatea's suite once again, and while not an uncommon sight since the Marquise's arrival to the Varia Castle, she had not been the one to request the meeting this time around. It was Galatea who had extended the invitation that morning, and although Haru had been initially surprised, she was more than glad to accept the subtle offer of a truce, swiftly brushing aside the less than amiable ending of their last tea session.

Upon arrival, Haru was promptly ushered to her usual seat across from Galatea by a servant and served a cup of steaming black tea. Haru sipped the hot brew quietly, curiously watching her beautiful companion as she patiently waited for the latter to speak. As always, the Marquise was a picture of elegant composure, stylishly attired in a way portrayed her blonde perfection to the best advantage, her stunning features betraying none of her thoughts whatsoever.

The well-coiffed, golden-haired beauty stared neutrally at the younger female who was the complete opposite of herself. With her clear cosmetic-free features, large doe eyes and innocently girlish appearance, the Royal Consort was passably pretty at most, but even in her simple attire of Capri pants and a casual, off-shouldered sweater, she still managed to pull off a spritely, artless allure regardless. Galatea was forced to admit that the seemingly plain looking brunette was rather attractive in a rare, unpretentious way—nothing like her own meticulously made up and painstakingly groomed perfection—and the bitter acknowledgement that the younger woman was more worthy of the Crown Prince's attention than herself made raw envy course through the veins of the Marquise.

It was glaringly obvious to Galatea now—without even the need to deliberately doll herself up for her powerful, highborn mate, the Princess Consort could still garner his full attention effortlessly.

It was a difficult pill to swallow; she had lost hands down this time around.

The Marquise's posture was rigid and unyielding as her hard gaze rested on the Princess.

"It seems that you are right, Royal Consort." The blonde's tone was cool, impersonal. Haru stared at her, waiting for further elaboration. And she did, with disparaging cynicism. "I was no threat to you. You win."

Haru was quickly reminded of her own less than modest claim the last time the two women were together; she had all but boasted to the Marquise that the latter posed no threat to her standing with her husband. Bel must have said something similar to Galatea, and knowing her significant other like she did, he must have been quite blunt about the whole thing as well, if the proud noblewoman's current behavior was to be of any indication.

"I'm sorry that you have to feel this way, Galatea-san," Haru murmured with sincerity, filled with the urge to mediate the increasingly awkward situation. "But Bel is very important to me, and I love him very much." She paused hesitatingly, before venturing on in a cautiously optimistic manner. "One day, Galatea-san will understand what I mean, when she meets someone who will love her unconditionally no matter what happens."

The Marquise did not react outwardly to the younger woman's hopeful statement. However, the glittering amethyst of her eyes was brittle and hostile. "You really think that the fickle minded and flighty Prince Belphegor loves you unconditionally?" The golden-haired beauty was mockingly skeptical at best and scathingly derisive at worst.

Haru flushed at the sophisticated female's scornful tone. She was wary of where their conversation was heading, unsure of just what Galatea-san was trying to say. Haru shook her head inwardly and promptly squashed that strange feeling, chalking up her oversensitivity to Galatea's peculiar habit of deliberately unsettling and upsetting the people around her. Still, she was unable to stop her own instinctive urge to defend her husband; despite his seemingly uncaring and at times self-absorbed behavior, he was really nowhere as callous or as shallow as he often liked to portray himself to be.

"I know that he cares for me," she replied firmly, her brown eyes steady and showing no doubts whatsoever. "I trust him."

There were simply no ifs, ands, or buts about it; Haru quickly made her stance very clear. But of course the brunette caught the piercing, unwavering stare of her counterpart and started to blush awkwardly, her modest Japanese upbringing kicking in to remind her just how unseemly it was to brag thusly of her loving relationship with her husband. Flustered, Haru quickly picked up her cup of tea and busied herself by drinking it, taking long sips of the fragrant, comforting concoction. Galatea waited until she had completely drained her cup before she spoke once more.

"You have that much trust in him?" the noblewoman asked coolly then. Haru nodded wordlessly, and the Marquise's gaze turned coldly blank, much to the brunette's slowly rising unease.

"I see," the beautiful woman acknowledged. Meanwhile, Haru's instincts were shifting with growing discomfort, warning that something was not right at all. Things were getting too strange for comfort. "In that case, shall we put your beloved Prince to the test, then? To see if he is indeed worthy of your blind devotion?"

The situation was rapidly degenerating from 'strange' to 'bizarre and downright creepy.' Galatea was eerily composed and saying things that made alarm bells ring in Haru's head. Subtly, the brunette glanced around the tearoom only to realize with a confused start that they were completely alone, and not even Mortigor was in attendance like he usually was. The feeling of foreboding rose sharply within Haru, and much to her frazzled dismay, Galatea seemed to easily discern the cause of her growing anxiety. Against her will, Haru's breathing quickened.

"Your thoughts must be flying through your head a mile a minute right now," the blonde remarked indifferently. "Your heart is starting to race in your chest, and you are feeling more and more lightheaded. It is getting hard to breathe, isn't it?"

Haru stared at Galatea, her eyes widened as she sank back onto the couch in astonished surprise, gasping quietly, her hand coming up to her chest almost as if in vain effort to control the rapid tempo of her frantic heart. Her lips parted slightly as she struggled to take in air; caught by the terrible, suffocating, feeling that she was not getting enough oxygen, that she was not breathing quickly enough, hyperventilating. What was going on? What was happening to her-

Realization dawned when her eyes fell upon the empty tea cup.

"The tea-!" she slurred hazily. Even her speech was beginning to become impaired by the potent, fast acting drug that had been discreetly blended into the black tea. Her fingers tingled and then numbness quickly set in, swiftly crawling up her extremities until all her limbs felt clumsy and awkward, refusing to listen to her mind's commands, paralyzed. Through it all, Galatea watched calmly as the younger woman quickly succumbed to the effects of the powerful drug, her unfeeling eyes locked onto Haru's the entire while.

This was bad, really bad, Haru thought, panicked, as a wave of dizziness hit her hard enough to turn her vision black. Her chest was starting to hurt and she felt as though she was about to have a heart attack. Her alarm skyrocketed to outright distress when she realized she could no longer feel her arms and legs, and her desperate breathing escalated to harsh, quick pants; oh God, was she going to die? Haru's immediate thought after her morbid epiphany was that her husband was definitely going to be quite pissed.

As if reading into the stark apprehension that suddenly took precedence in her eyes, Galatea spoke sedately. "Don't worry, Princess Consort. The drug that you have ingested is not potent enough to kill, merely to incapacitate temporarily." Not even at the height of her jealousy was the Marquise foolish enough to attempt to strike off the object of the Crown Prince's latest obsession; Belphegor would have made her—and everyone around her—pay for her folly tenfold.

"St…stop…Wh…why…" Haru could barely utter the words, and had to concentrate to fight off the increasing nausea as well as the quickly encroaching darkness that ringed her beleaguered vision. The gist of her question was not lost on Galatea, even as the blonde gracefully clapped her hands twice and summoned a pair of burly-looking manservants who had been lying in wait in her suite. The well trained men came to heel obediently at their mistress' command, and with a stately tilt of her head, went over to Haru, easily picking her up like one would a limp ragdoll. She was beyond resisting at that point, though her eyes were filled with trepidation at their intimidating size. Rendered utterly helpless and unable to move, unable to defend herself…Haru was worried, very worried. She knew that she would not remain conscious for long. Hopefully Mortigor-san and Francesca-san, or even Lussuria-san, would sense something amiss and sound the alarm, for she would not be able to help herself this time around, having gotten herself in big trouble again. Once again, the thought that Bel was going to be very angry with her when this was over came to mind.

"I wonder if he trusts you as much as you do him," Galatea mused almost lightly then, her rare violet eyes cruel and remorseless as they rested upon the other female's helpless form.

"And if not, will you be able to forgive him for learning the truth too late?"


Long hours later, Belphegor had barely arrived at the rendezvous point after the end of a successful mission when one of his men hurried over to pass him his cell phone. The Storm Unit Commander checked the sleek, state-of-the-art contraption swiftly, frowning when he noticed the ridiculous amount of missed calls he had received in the span of his assignment. He started to scowl with irritation when he realized that a majority of the unconnected calls were from his pain in the ass Archduke cousin whereas the rest were from the Varia Castle, the line extension making it rather clear that they were from his wing of the castle—his household, then.

Grumbling under his breath, the Varia assassin decided to deal with Alaisdair first. Experience had taught him that if he ignored his cousin and delayed handling whatever crisis the other male happened to be mired in at that moment, he would most definitely live to regret it in the form of monstrous stacks of vengeful, undying paperwork. The matters and information that Alaisdair handled were usually quite sensitive, so if his cousin was bothered enough to leave that many missed calls on his cell phone, then it would be prudent to check in to see what the hell was going on before he got unexpectedly blindsided by unpleasant surprises.

The blonde placed the phone next to his ear and waited impatiently for Alaisdair to pick up, pacing absently as he listened to the ringing tone only to pause abruptly and stare at his phone in disbelief when his call was cut off. His stupid cousin had just cancelled on him! Growing quickly irritated, Belphegor was about to hit the redial button once more and give his idiot relative a piece of his mind when said idiot relative promptly called him back. The Storm Prince grunted in surprise when he realized that Alaisdair had chosen to initiate a video conference, the reason why he had cancelled the voice call in the first place.

Exasperated, the Crown Prince flipped open his cell to establish the connection, and the first thing he saw was his cousin's equally annoyed features.

"Damn it, Belphegor," Alaisdair bit out the first thing the call came through. "Answer your damn phone sooner next time! I have been calling you all afternoon!"

Bel ignored the older man's complaints and cut in impatiently. "I was busy; what do you want?"

Alaisdair looked momentarily irked. Then, he had to suddenly ask the strangest question. "Where is Haru, Belphegor? Is she with you right now?"

The Storm Unit Commander frowned, instantly suspicious. "No, she's back at the castle, why?"

Alaisdair started to look grim then. "She's not there," he promptly informed her oblivious mate. "Your servants have turned the castle upside down but failed to find her. Mortigor has been trying to reach you for the past few hours as well, and we were hoping that she was with you."

Belphegor stiffened. "Are you trying to tell me that my wife is missing?"

Judging by the blonde's dark tone, this was going to get ugly very fast. Alaisdair nodded curtly.

"The servants have raised the alarm to the Varia Commanders, and they are attempting to track her now, so you should return post haste to receive their updates. And Belphegor, have you done anything to upset your wife recently?"

It didn't take long for the tensed blonde to understand what his cousin was trying to imply. "I don't think I appreciate the nature of your question," Belphegor growled even as he gestured sharply for his men to prepare to move out. Alaisdair merely waited for his question to be answered, and sure enough, his short-tempered relative eventually replied, bristling with affront and restless agitation. "She was content and sated when I left this morning," Belphegor emphasized angrily, simply infuriated that Alaisdair would think otherwise. "And she would never leave me of her own volition."

That was the truth he knew, an absolute fact that he did not even have to think twice about, something that was set in stone; just like how the sun rose in the east and set in the west, his little wife was head over heels in love with him and would never leave him. It was just as simple as that. Alaisdair did not comment on the resolute surety in the younger man's tone, though he was inwardly surprised by how much Belphegor had mellowed out lately. The instinctively wary and distrustful Tsiveone Crown Prince of the past would not have vouched so readily for anyone, but evidently there was something in his chosen bride that made her an exception to the rule. Good for her.

Belphegor huffed with irritation.

"That careless woman has most likely gotten herself lost in the surrounding woods again," he muttered, swiftly brushing aside the strange, downright foreign, feeling of unease that had crept into his psyche at the news of Haru's disappearance. "I have warned her repeatedly not to walk in the woods but it never seems to register to the bit of fluff between her ears." His brow ticked slightly at the reminder of her foolhardy disregard for danger, an apparent sign that he was growing irked just thinking about her blatant lack of common sense—she was definitely going to be in for it when he got hold of her later.

It was a good thing that he had more or less anticipated such a situation when it came to his absentminded and directionally challenged wife, and had already implemented a suitable failsafe in the event of such a troublesome occasion. The blonde fiddled with the keys on his cell, grumbling under his breath the entire while. "Hold on; let me activate the GPS tracker on her. I should be able to pinpoint her location-"

"Are you, by chance, referring to this?" Alaisdair cut in a calm, dry tone then, and Belphegor paused to stare at the screen. He started to scowl when he caught sight of the platinum ring and silver chain that hung off the Archduke's fingers, coincidentally the same piece of jewelry that he had commissioned for his wife to serve as a symbol of their marriage.

Judging by Belphegor's infuriated expression, Alaisdair knew that he was right on the mark then. Trust his cousin to implant a tracker chip within the wedding ring and then have his unsuspecting wife wear it around her neck like one of those GPS collars that one would put on their precious pets. Haru was likely not to be very appreciative if she ever learned of the ring's secondary function, but then again, she would actually have to be found first before she could be told of her husband's exaggerated measures to keep track of her.

"Where did you get that?" Belphegor demanded sharply, his tone terse. Haru adored that particular piece of jewelry the most out of all the priceless others that he had gifted her, and not just purely because of its exquisiteness and uniqueness. Even though it was the only one of its kind in the world, his silly romantic of a wife cherished it all the more because it was a physical representation of their marital union, and as such, it was the only material decoration that she consistently wore on her person ever since he gave it to her. The privately custom designed wedding ring should not be in Alaisdair's possession, and the fact that it was made unsettling disquiet inundate Belphegor once again, this time stronger than before. The gut feeling that had never led him wrong was heavy with foreboding, and in response to that uncomfortable, almost alien, sense of worry, the Storm Unit Commander reacted in the only way he knew how. He got mad.

If Alaisdair noticed the way Bel's features were slowly darkening with rising fury, he made no comment on it. Instead, he merely answered his cousin's question. "The ring came to me a few hours ago, via an express courier from an anonymous source. I was trying to figure out if your wife had finally gotten sick of your antics and had decided to run off for good, but not before considerately mailing her wedding ring back to me for safekeeping."

Belphegor did not appreciate his steward's inappropriate attempt at diffusing the tense atmosphere, even though they both knew that there was a semblance of truth in Alaisdair's seemingly ridiculous remark; Haru had gone missing so suddenly and conveniently, and unpleasant as the notion was, it was the Archduke's duty to cover all the likelihoods behind her abrupt disappearance, whether it might be a willing departure or not. However, in hindsight, it was not such a good idea to present the possibility that the Princess Consort might have run out on her husband, especially when said husband happened to be quite affectionately bonded to his wife—no matter how the man in question would have claimed otherwise.

Belphegor's expression turned thunderous.

"Are you fucking hard of hearing? I already said that she would never leave me of her own volition," the Storm Flame wielder bit out with lethal quiet, his mood rapidly deteriorating from being merely irritated to downright furious. It hadn't even occurred to the royal Prince for a moment to suspect his little mate; that she might have turned upon him and chosen to betray him of her own accord. He could not doubt her, especially when he could still feel the gentle pressure of her lips from this morning, brushing affectionately against the side of his neck when she was clearly groggy and still half asleep in their bed. She had turned to him instinctively all the same when he was about to leave for work, quietly, unpretentiously murmuring her heartfelt love for him with the words that he was quickly growing accustomed to hearing, nuzzling him briefly even as she told him to be safe. No, she had definitely not behaved like a wife who had been planning to run from her husband, and he knew, he just knew, that she would never leave his side willingly unless she had been forced to do so.

With that important knowledge settling around his angry, possessive instincts like a secure, protective cloak; Belphegor was left with the wholly unpleasant realization that his sparrow had been abducted. The growing feeling of uneasiness simply fueled the unstable frenzy that brewed under the increasingly icy veneer of the Crown Prince, and it was not difficult for Alaisdair to see that his cousin was churning himself into a fine fury. The older aristocrat did not react to Belphegor's rising anger; he had grown inured to the latter's violent, explosive temper over the years, and thus was able to objectively observe his relative's reaction. The blonde's jaw clenched tightly as he swiftly reached his own conclusions in this situation.

"We have not found any ransom note so far, other than her ring that had been sent here," Alaisdair remarked with utter calm even though his expression was grim, finally accepting that this was most likely a case of kidnapping. The Archduke had hoped that it would not be so; abductions never ended well where the royal family was concerned, as tragic examples of the past had repeatedly proven—and Belphegor knew that very well too. His royal cousin was making no effort to conceal his rising agitation regarding the situation, but he did not panic. No, Belphegor was naturally channeling that uncharacteristic fear and anxiety into something that he could relate best to.

Rage.

There was no doubt in Alaisdair's mind that the assassin Prince would retaliate with uncontrolled fury and ferocious, vindictive aggression at the perpetrators who had orchestrated this unforgiveable crime against him. Those idiots had dared to take his woman from him, and he would make sure that there would not be even pieces left over when he was through with them, and God have mercy on their souls if they were actually stupid enough to harm her.

"No need for ransom notes," Belphegor spoke shortly, harshly. "Money is not the objective."

Alaisdair stared at his relative briefly, wondering if the latter knew more than he was letting on. Then, realization quickly came to the dark-haired aristocrat, swiftly opening his eyes to the obvious clues that he had not noticed initially. There were not many outside the ranks of the high nobility who were aware of his connection to Belphegor, but yet those who had taken Haru had known enough to send her ring to his office—a subtle taunt, no doubt—well aware that Belphegor would have received the message loud and clear. Not to mention, the Varia Castle was practically impregnable when it came to security—it would fall for nothing less than an outright invasion; whoever had managed to spirit Haru away from the heart of Varia had to have had help from the inside.

Help from the inside…

The Archduke had a bad feeling about this. With the exception of Belphegor's servants as well as the Varia executives, there was only one other who fit the profile and who had the motive to do away with Haru—

"Galatea," Belphegor snarled out the name venomously, having figured out what was going on even before Alaisdair could suspect the worst. The focused animosity in the blonde's voice was unmistakable, and he looked savagely furious, almost fit to be tied. It did not take a genius to figure out that it would not be a good idea for Belphegor to confront the Marquise in this state—especially not if Alaisdair hoped to avoid an international incident with the de Fronsac clan, who happened to have some rather influential members on the EU Council.

It would be hard to explain away murder, after all. Something told the Archduke that today was not going to be a good day.

"Hold on, Belphegor, I'm on my way. I will meet you back at the castle; wait for me to mediate and don't do anything rash-"

The golden-haired Varia cut off the connection before his cousin could finish speaking. His relative gave him too much credit if the man actually believed that he could still sit around and talk things out with Galatea.

That impertinent, overly presumptuous bitch had gone too far this time around. He had attempted to be civil and cordial, but all that had flown out the window now that he was almost certain the noblewoman was the one who had taken Haru. The Marquise de Fronsac was absolutely ruthless in her dealings with her opponents and she also possessed the ability and the resources to back up her vicious schemes. His gentle little wife was no match for Galatea in those aspects, but fortunately enough, he was no pushover himself and now that the other blonde had pushed him too far, all bets were off.

If Haru was hurt—something in his gut froze over and then roiled oddly at the notion, and then full blown anger quickly masked that disconcerting feeling— If Galatea had dared to harm what was his, then he would take that bitch's life as compensation, everything else be damned. The Marquise was obviously tired of living, and Belphegor would be more than happy to relieve her of her fucking right to breathe.

The Storm Unit Commander turned to his men then, the deadly aura gathering rapidly around him downright intimidating and terrifying. Their leader's features were twisted with unspeakable fury, and his soldiers were all inwardly thankful that his rage was not centered on them.

"We are returning to headquarters," the Varia Prince hissed. "Don't get in my way, or I will kill all of you."


When Haru regained consciousness, it took her awhile to recall everything that had transpired. The pounding headache that plagued her as well as the painful dryness of her mouth and throat had not helped matters at all. She had been drugged by Galatea with some sort of powerful paralytic agent, causing her breathing and heart rate to soar exponentially to downright dangerous levels. Her body had not been able to take the strain and she remembered blacking out mere moments after the Marquise's men had swiftly smuggled her out of the castle.

Forcing her eyes open now took considerable effort, and even though parts of her body and extremities still felt numbed and weak, Haru was relieved to find that the drugs she had been doped with earlier were already beginning to wear off. She was also respiring normally now, her heart no longer beating so hard that it felt as if it was going to jump right out of her chest. That was a relief, and the brunette decided to be thankful that she was still alive. As long as she had breath left in her, she could and would find her way out of this situation.

There was no time to lose herself in fear and despair; panic and terror were not going to help her escape. Haru sat up on shaky limbs and wasted no time combing the room carefully with her eyes, observing her foreign surroundings with an almost desperate attention to detail, hoping to pick up something that might help with her dire circumstances. She was alone in what looked like an expensively furnished bedroom, but the luxurious atmosphere offered her no comfort at all. The nearby windows were closed, the curtains drawn shut, and there were no pictures or photographs that would hint of her current location or aid in her possible escape in any way. She had no idea whatsoever where she was, but could more or less guess that she must no longer be in friendly territory. Left on a strange bed in an unfamiliar room like an abandoned toy doll, Haru was at last forced to admit that she did not recognize anything in her immediate vision, and that awful feeling of helplessness grew.

She should have paid attention to Bel when he warned her about Galatea, but she had never expected that the noblewoman would go to such lengths just to get rid of her. It was too late to think of such things now, and even though Haru did not completely understand the Marquise's motives in abducting her, even though she was legitimately worried about her less than ideal situation, Haru told herself not to get too carried away with such unproductive thoughts.

She was far from hopeless; it was only a matter of time before her husband came for her, after all, and Haru had every confidence that he would, even though she also knew that he would be yelling angrily at her right after he found her. The brunette grimaced inwardly as she thought about having to deal with her angry spouse, but knew that he would have every right to blow up at her in this instance. He had already told her to be careful but she had carelessly disregarded his caution. Haru just knew that she was going to hear about this for months to come.

The quiet creak of the door opening distracted Haru from her thoughts, and alarmed, she quickly let herself fall back onto the bed in a loose sprawl, closing her eyes and feigning unconsciousness. Her heart pounded loudly and the muted sound of shoes against plush carpeting was strangely loud to her hyperaware sense of hearing. Haru was able to discern at least two distinct sets of footsteps. She fought the instinctive urge to stiffen with alarm as they neared her, keeping her body completely limp and doing her best to mimic a state of repose. She concentrated on keeping her breathing even, her features smooth and slack as if genuinely in deep sleep.

Shadows fell across her face, and what little light there was in the room blotted out as whoever was standing over her remained there, unmoving. Nervousness dripped down her spine like cold slivers of ice as a long silence dragged in the air, and she could feel the heavy regard of the unknown person like an ominous presence bearing down on her. An eternity crawled by as Haru waited in dreadful trepidation; never had she felt time pass so agonizingly slowly before.

"This is the commoner who has Astonia's Crown Prince completely enthralled?" The voice that spoke at last sounded like it belonged to a middle aged male, foreign and heavily accented, yet possessing coldly precise diction as well as a hint of unspoken condescension not unlike Galatea's formal, but frigidly cutting manner of speech.

Fabric rustled quietly a foot or so away from Haru as the second unknown person shifted slightly. It was another man, judging by the sound of his voice, but lacking the arrogant, commanding tone of the first speaker. He seemed more subservient, subdued; perhaps a manservant of some sort. "Yes, Your Grace. This is the woman whom Prince Belphegor married recently."

Your…Grace? Haru's mind churned feverishly as she quickly worked out the significance of the title. Clearly one of the men was of noble birth, and of a rather high rank at that. Were all aristocrats so sinisterly inclined and cruelly underhanded? And what exactly was Galatea planning, passing her along to an accomplice? What was she trying to accomplish?

As Haru's thoughts raced through her head, there was a considerable pause as the first male coolly deliberated over the second's comment. Once again, Haru could feel the weight of a hard, piercing stare on her person, countless goosebumps rising on her skin as she sensed callous eyes on her body, weighing her worth like one would a slab of meat in a market. The brunette shook inwardly with rising fear and unease, growing scared and intimidated by the presence of the unknown men, her condition made even worse by her currently helpless position. It took everything she had not to open her eyes, to feign complete unawareness even though her instincts were wailing at her to move away, to leave the demeaning sight of these strangers. The calls for self-preservation were strong, but common sense prevailed in the end.

Her abductors had not thought to tie her down with physical bonds, still under the mistaken impression that she was unconscious and fully paralyzed, and it would be in her best interests to let them maintain that line of thinking. She still had a slim chance of escape if she played her cards right, but if they were to realize now that she was lucid and slowly regaining control of her body, then there was no doubt that she would be forcefully restrained, trussed up like a doomed turkey with no further hope of freedom. And so, even if Haru was feeling more and more uncomfortable and growing nervously frightened, she forced herself to remain still and unmoving, silently praying that the men would leave soon.

The first male, the one whom Haru suspected was nobility, spoke again. This time, the contempt in his tone was much more pronounced than before, and he made no effort to conceal his derision and arrogant dismissal. "Clearly, the Tsiveone brat must be blind and stupid, to choose to marry this riffraff when he could have my daughter's hand instead. What are Galatea's plans, bringing this woman here?"

…Daughter! The man who had spoken all this while was Galatea's father! It was almost too much for Haru to process, and the brunette didn't even want to think about the de Fronsac patriarch's sheer nonchalance even when he had full knowledge that she had been brought here against her will, that his daughter had committed the serious crime of kidnapping and abduction. Did all aristocrats believe that they were above the law?!

"Your Grace, the Lady Marquise's standing orders were to hold the Princess Consort here until further notice. No other commands have been issued with regards to the Princess."

So…Galatea…meant her no harm? The noblewoman had only wanted her out of the way? The golden-haired woman had said something about Bel…and a…test, but Haru had not understood what she had meant then, not to mention how the younger woman had been more occupied wheezing for air and hyperventilating to pay close attention to her words. Haru really didn't know what was going on anymore; for now, she should just concentrate all her efforts on escaping this place—

"I see. As usual, my daughter is being too lenient. Keeping this woman here is but a temporary solution, and will not remove the stain of her blighted presence. That boy—the Crown Prince—is ridiculously mesmerized with her right now; the logical thing to do would be to remove her from his indulgent affections."

The nobleman was speaking so quickly that it was almost difficult for Haru to make sense of his words, and the brunette had to struggle to understand what he was actually saying. There was a brief rustle as movements were made above her, and before she could realize what was going on, hard, steely fingers gripped her chin, forcing her mouth open as a bitter liquid was dripped down her throat. Haru was so stunned that she swallowed the mouthful automatically, and it had been all she could do to keep her eyes from bursting open in shock, to still feign unconsciousness. What had she just ingested?

"Y- Your Grace?" the manservant stammered, clearly questioning the swift, unexpected action of his superior, and the man who was Galatea's father wasted no time explaining.

"Do not worry; that was not poison. I have no need to dirty my hands thusly. That was merely a little something to ensure her cooperation later."

Cooperation? Haru thought confusedly, even as the servant echoed her question.

"There is more than one way to ensure this woman's fall from grace," the middle aged man's voice was cold and indifferent. "My future son-in-law is a highly distrustful individual; it will not take much to sway his besotted opinion of his latest plaything." The older man clearly refused to acknowledge Haru as Belphegor's rightful wife. "If he can be led to think that she has betrayed him…"

She was expected to lose Belphegor's favor, that he would drop her like a hot potato and leave an opening for Galatea to exploit. Haru quickly felt an eerie sense of foreboding encroaching upon her even as she tried to figure out the elder de Fronsac's intentions.

"Recruit a few men from the streets as quickly as you can," the same cruel, arrogant voice commanded with little remorse whatsoever. "Keep her identity a secret; only tell them that they will be teaching an upstart whore her place in life. Make sure that she is compromised completely; once her virtue is sullied, she will no longer be accepted to bear the heir of the Tsiveone line. The Prince will be forced to divorce her even in the unlikely event that he forgives her 'adultery.' I want pictures and video footage that will show without a doubt that she is betraying him of her own volition. The powerful relaxant that I have just fed her should serve to negate any resistance on her part."

Haru felt her insides coalesced to ice. The realization that the de Fronsac was ready to go to such extremes to drive her apart from her husband, made pure terror grip her heart. Haru started to fear for her safety.

"Your Grace," the servant whispered in a hushed voice, obviously shocked by his master's brutal orders. The old man had just given the instructions to orchestrate the rape of Astonia's Princess Consort. "The Prince will not forgive this transgression easily, if it comes to pass. Are you sure-"

"That's why I told you to use men not in my employ, preferably lowlifes," the aristocrat's indifferent tone was irritated, dismissive. "Their deaths will be a necessary sacrifice to ease the wounded pride of the Tsiveone Prince, unless you'd like to volunteer for the position?"

"N- no," the manservant was quick to deny. "I will see to it that the necessary arrangements will be made, Your Grace."

"Excellent. We will have this unpleasant task done as quickly as possible, and if all goes smoothly, you will be well rewarded for your efforts. Get to it now."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The sound of more movements heralded the departure of the two men, and the receding footsteps as well as the eventual sound of the door opening and then closing again merely confirmed it. Haru's eyes burst open the moment she sensed that she had been left alone once again, and it took everything she had not to give in to the rising nausea bubbling at her throat. The brunette could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage in fear; she was horrified and, at the same time, very scared. She felt so sick and dirty after hearing the plans that had been made for her—the callous, ruthless intentions to brutalize her—that she wanted to vomit. Dread and distress quickly occupied the forefront of her thoughts as she easily imagined what would become of her if the elder de Fronsac's coldhearted plan was seen through, and time was quickly running out.

But still, through the hair-raising anxiety and growing panic, Haru was not ready to give up yet. It started out as a small glimmer of protest at first, but the instinctive urge for self-preservation was strong in her, and it grew quickly to become something a lot more powerful than the icy hold of terror could hope to compete with. Coupled with the degrading manner that she had just been vulgarly judged and crudely spoken of, fury and determination quickly burned inside her like an unquenchable inferno, a fierce, raw need to thwart the vicious, inhuman plans that had been prepared especially to destroy her, and most importantly, her bond to her mate.

Anger felt good, Haru thought furiously, her blood heating up with a powerful mix of exponential agitation and adrenaline, her usually warm, friendly gaze smoldering with wrath and hostility. It succeeded in driving away the gut wrenching feeling of fear that had threatened to overtake her earlier, and forcefully cleared her mind of all of her other concerns, allowing her to carefully plan her next move.

The entire de Fronsac clan would be in for a big surprise if they really thought that she would just roll over and succumb to their malicious, nefarious plans. It was true that Miura Haru was not particularly remarkable in any way, be it in terms of strength, ability, or even wealth and status, but the Princess Consort of Astonia would not fall so easily.

It was very obvious that just waiting for Belphegor to arrive and rescue her was no longer a viable option. She would have to assume the worst in this situation, that her husband just might not be able to reach her in time to defend her from de Fronsac's cruel agenda. But that was alright. Instead of feeling despair and helplessness, firm, gritty resolve gathered in the brunette's heart, centering her agitated emotions and allowing her to regain a semblance of calm.

What she should do next came quite naturally to her right after.

If Bel could not get to her in time, then she would just have to make time for him.

Of course, it was really easier said than done, but as the irrepressible idea took root in her head, Haru started to see untold possibilities everywhere she looked.

Luck would be on her side today, and Haru swore that she would show those de Fronsacs that she would not be so easily bullied.

But first; she needed to find a toilet to regurgitate whatever vile concoction that the Duke had made her swallow.


::owari::


Questions That I Would Like To Answer Before You Ask:

Hi guys! I'm back! My sincerest apologies for the absurdly long hiatus; real life has been pretty hectic for the last year or so, and I wasn't able to focus on writing as much as I want to. Recently, I found some much needed spare time to work on the rest of this fic, and on that note, I'm pleased to announce that 'Of Sparrows and Princes' has finally been completed, and I will be constantly updating (either weekly or bimonthly) until all the chapters are eventually up, so please do not worry that it will be abandoned anytime soon.

So…that's all for now.

This chapter's pretty straightforward and self-explanatory, there's nothing that I feel the need to point out. Anyway, I hope all of you enjoyed this instalment, and last but not least, a very grateful thank you to all the readers for the kind patience and support up till now!

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Your reviews make me update faster; so please leave a comment if you like this fic!

-sllebswap