.:. 8 .:.

A carriage bumbled along the woodland terrain. It rocked, like the nauseating sway of a boat, and Mirai inhaled sharply and gripped the headrest to avoid becoming an upside-down bundle of silk. Her mother, Lady Akiyama, pursed her wrinkled lips and whacked her fan against the roof. The footman blundered an apology. She peeled back the curtain, her pale gloves striking against the dark velvet.

"Goodness, you would think Lord Sakamaki would have the sense to gravel the path. Or do they continually ride horseback? How unbecoming."

"You complain about this every time we visit, mother. I hardly doubt we are high enough in the Lord's favour to demand comfort."

Lady Akiyama huffed, knowing she spoke no fault, and batted her middle with the fan. "Sit up straight, child!"

"I'm sorry," muttered Mirai, confused why she gained another hit. "Ouch!"

"How do you hope to attract a husband with such a frown?" She leaned across to pin back a stray curl. "No doubt your father would have found you a suitor much sooner if not for this unruly head of yours. Gentlemen do not like maidens who look like wild, little wood-sprites."

Mirai remained silent and allowed her to fuss: she straightened the ruffles adorning her frock, dabbed rouge onto her lips and rose-oil onto her neck, and finally, with green eyes ablaze in agitation, resumed smoothing back her hair. But it was in vain; the curls pinged out of their slick restraint, like a clown in a jack-in-a-box. Mirai did not look a thing like her mother, whose face was pasty and tart, as though sucking a sour fruit. She favoured her father, with their dark eyes and cinnamon skin.

"He is a handsome man," the older woman said, giving her a coy smile; it snatched the years from her. "As is his younger brother. Though it is a shame about that disagreeable temper of his. Well, a rotten apple is bound to appear in such an established family sooner or later. And that boy's poor mother... I haven't seen her in years!"

"Master Shu is slothful and undriven," Mirai added, uninterested in her mother's gossip; she took up her needlework. "Neither are faultless."

With longing, Lady Akiyama rubbed her flat abdomen; she lost another child in the spring. "Oh, my dear," her voice fluttered. "Think of how beautiful your children would be—"

"Mother, please. I have barely met the young master a handful of times. The betrothal is not yet official—even you and I are not supposed to know."

Mirai was neither excited nor fearful to be married. She felt nothing except a little relief to be finally free from her parents' pressure. It was what she had been preparing for her entire life, like the fattening of cattle before slaughter. A maiden is a mare, groomed for the whims of men, her mother had once told her. That was all she was and all she would ever be; first her father's pawn, and soon to be her husband's.

She hardly listened to her mother's rambling about her father in the carriage ahead. She pressed her cheek against the window, unable to detect the shapes of trees in the evening darkness. Everything was a blur of dark-green and umber.

"Mirai, look," pointed her mother, shuffling forward. "At the cottage. That's where that woman lives."

Frowning, she followed her finger to be met with a crooked building, surrounded in a balm of flowers. All of their colours were dimmed grey by the hour. Washing hung from low-branches, the sheets billowing back-and-forth to reveal a girl craning to tug them down. She heard their carriage approach and turned, meeting Mirai's eyes. She smiled instantly, but Mirai was too stunned to return it.

"Who is she?" she asked when they passed by, suddenly curious. The way she had spoken made her think of devils and witches, all of which she was not.

"Haven't you heard the rumours?"

Mirai shook her head; her mother looked exasperated.

"She's an adulteress," she whispered, rolling out her fan. "Married to the town doctor. A handsome, dark-haired fellow. You'll remember him. He treated you when you were much younger."

"And who is the man?"

Her green eyes lit up, like flashing a child with a shiny object. She really was a silly creature. "That is the scandal! Not a soul knows! But... between you and me," she came near. "I've heard she is terribly close with the youngest lord. A leeching, sinful woman... I bet she has demanded vast amounts of gold from him in order to keep her silence. If the secret leaked, the family's reputation would be in ruin."

"Nonsense. Lord Sakamaki has a number of sons, neither of whom are birthed by his wife. Their reputation cannot be so delicate."

She was hit by the fan. "Hush, child! You know we aren't to speak about such things."

"Sorry," she said, only to be whacked once more. "Mother—!"

"Sit up straight!"

.:.

The two carriages came to a halt in the castle courtyard. A pair of footman greeted each and Mirai accepted their hand and stepped down, careful not to tread on her skirts. Her mother would be furious if she noticed a spot of muck, and the girl feared her when wielding a fan.

Lord Sakamaki burst through the great, iron-spiked doors, trailed by his two sons. His long ashy hair was tied low, the strands fluttering about his shoulders. He was finely dressed, as expected, and he clapped a hand against her father's arm and smiled, exchanging all the usual pleasantries. A hunting trip was due in the spring once the weather warmed, Mirai had overheard, and each respecting family was apparently in good health.

She knew no truth was held in this statement, as her mother had become frail after each loss of child, and the damage was both physically and emotionally taxing. However one wouldn't see her anguish now as she blushed when the Lord pressed her hand to his lips. She whipped out her fan to appear coy, and Mirai glanced at her father to see his face stern and his mouth thin. Lord Akiyama was a practical man who could not see the appeal of romance, but he was not pleased about his friend charming his wife.

"And who is this fine flower accompanying you, Minoru?"

Mirai felt his golden eyes on her. Then, being the obedient, well-trained maiden that she was, she ducked her head and bowed.

"My Lord, I am flattered that you think so."

"You play innocent, My Lord," giggled her mother. "But surely you can remember my daughter, Miss Mirai."

"Of course," he drawled, his gaze lingering low. The girl was not unfamiliar to such a look, as she knew her only valuable asset was her figure. She was not naturally pretty, but the bravado of her dresses made her appear so. "You have grown to be quite a handsome thing, haven't you, my dear?" Karl Sakamaki continued, his finger tracing her jaw. "No doubt her beauty stems from the loveliness of your wife, Hiraku."

"Of my wife indeed," said he, forcing a smile to make light of the jibe.

Mirai heard a snort beside her. She turned to see the two young gentlemen talking quietly amongst themselves, a mixture of boredom and annoyance written on their faces.

"No doubt she'll end up in that bastard's bed tonight," the one with silvery hair grumbled, his hands continually pulling at his clothing. "He has no fucking dignity. I mean, c'mon, she's young enough to be his daughter!"

The other stifled a yawn. "Don't complain... Perhaps this nonsense will end sooner if she does."

She stared at them, her mouth agape. The younger noticed her and flushed, stumbling over his words. His brother displayed nothing and refused to acknowledge his insult, moving to scratch one of the restless horses behind the ear. Apparently the condition of their steeds was more important than the questionable reputation of a high-born girl.

Mirai startled when she registered a hand resting on the small of her back. Lifting her chin, she met Lord Sakamaki's glittering eyes. He was close, and when the wind disturbed his hair, it brushed against her cheek. He smelled of roses, but it was not natural and sweet like the ones blooming in her garden. She was uncomfortable, as no-one had dared to flirt with her so shamelessly. Lecherous men tended to admire her from a distance, with their undressing eyes and whistles. She felt the heat rise to her face, and inwardly she scowled, knowing she had the weakness of her mother.

"Ah, with all this chatter, I seem to have forgotten to conduct thorough introductions. My dear, I'm sure you remember my sons. Master Shu, my heir, and my younger, Master Subaru."

"I remember," Mirai answered, curtly. "Though it is clear neither of you are quite as charming as your father."

She curtsied, and even without looking, she could sense her mother's anger. A lady is not a lady without manners! Her words circulated in her head, along with flashbacks of those rigorous etiquette lessons she had taken as a child. Mirai was certain the older woman would take great pleasure in beating her with the fan at the earliest opportunity.

Master Shu was humoured, but his lips were tight, as though pushing back a clever quip. Master Subaru was still red-faced. He gave a nod of acknowledgement, but his eyes did not stray from his boots.

"Come, come!" Karl Sakamaki beckoned. "The autumn night is not kind to young ladies."

They were led into the castle, the stone walls bathed in soft candlelight. It had modern decor for an ancient building. The ceiling was elaborate in design, with gold-leaf and murals commissioned by famous, foreign painters. There was a dual staircase overlaid in scarlet carpet, and as they walked through the corridors, Mirai eyed the portraits of the Sakamaki ancestors, new and old.

In one there was a stoic, golden-haired woman sat on a chair. On her lap, creasing the silk of her dark gown, was a toddler with bright, smiling eyes, painted in clothes too-old. Lady Beatrix and Lord Shu Sakamaki, was the inscription at the bottom of the frame.

"Don't loiter," said a flat voice behind her.

It was only then that the girl realised she had stopped. Her parents and Lord Sakamaki were very far ahead, and she caught a glimpse of her mother's salmon pink train as they rounded the corner. Mirai looked into the same pair of blue eyes she had seen in the painting; they were no longer smiling. Subaru caught up with them, his hair unkempt and falling into his eyes. He had a habit of ruffling it, she had noticed.

"M-My apologies," she lowered her head. "I was merely admiring your art collection."

Shu turned towards the painting and frowned. "I doubt the dead wish to be admired," he mumbled, more to himself. "Subaru," he said, louder, yet still in the same uninterested tone. "Lend the woman your arm... by her nosiness, we'll likely be in this corridor until morning."

"A-Are you asking to be fucking knocked out? Bastard, you do it!"

He wore the ghost of a smile. "No. My arms are tired."

"Tired? Don't give me that shit! You hardly move!"

"Gentleman, please," Mirai cleared her throat, trying not to take offence by their lack of enthusiasm. "I am not taken sick, nor am I a wandering child. I am quite capable of walking to the great hall unaided, thank you."

Yet, just as she stepped forward, the youngest—irritated, embarrassed and extremely reluctant—was holding out an arm. She had heard tales concerning the delinquent Sakamaki, and none were terribly redeeming. Mirai was not her mother and did not listen to foolish gossip, and at that moment, she was grateful that she hadn't. He had saved her face and she took his arm without hesitation.

"Quit smiling! I didn't just do it for you, got it?"

Mirai nodded despite her confusion—if not for her then who?

This thought played on her mind as they walked down the length of the corridor. She didn't hear any footsteps belonging to the eldest, and before they reached the corner, she looked back. Shu was still stood in front of the old oil-painting. By his own loitering it was clear that he didn't cross this hallway often. Perhaps he hadn't seen the painting for many years, or perhaps not at all, considering the abundance. But it was impossible to tell what he was thinking when she could not see his face.

.:.

It was the beginning of the cold-season, with the crackling fire and the rain-smudged windows. Aromas of hot soups, honeyed-meats and roasted chestnuts filled the great hall, and Mirai had eaten her fill. She swilled the contents of her goblet, taking a sip now and again, cautious not to become drunk.

Her father possessed a high tolerance for alcohol and his behaviour rarely altered. But Mirai could see his rosy cheeks and her mother's joy at receiving a smile and a peck. Karl Sakamaki was full of merriment and confident charm, and if not for the countless refills he demanded, she would not have deemed him intoxicated.

The two young lords had eaten very little and both appeared to be reaching the end of their tether. The eldest had been 'resting his eyes' for a suspicious amount of time, and did not respond to any comments thrown his way. The youngest, who had bent every piece of silverware he had come into contact with, was currently stood at the window, his silhouette dwarfed by its height.

Behind Subaru situated a piano, occupied by a man with russet, shoulder-length hair. The young lord had raised both his voice and his fists at the composer more than once, but the man merely waved him off and laughed. A servant would not insult their master so casually, or perhaps he had a stupid amount of bravery.

"You mustn't ask, my child."

Her mother's expression was gentle, and the wrinkles which were set around her eyes and lips seemed to have disappeared. It was not often that she saw the older woman relax. She was harsher than any tutor and even stricter than her father. But Mirai was her sole surviving child and she knew that she was treasured dearly. The two were not always amicable, but Mirai spent almost every waking moment in her company, and they could read each other well. Thus, her mother knew her curiosity to be a dangerous thing.

"He is not a servant," she stated, observing his nonuniform.

"No," confirmed Lady Akiyama, voice low to avoid being overheard. "You know as well as I that men—especially powerful men—have no inclination to be faithful to their women. In this world, Mirai, nothing is a sin if it is committed by a man."

Mirai wondered when her silly, gossiping mother had become so wise. Minoru took a pitcher and topped up her goblet, the blood-red wine staining her lips. She never protested against the restrictions of her sex, and even when she spoke ill of the Lord's character, it was not done in resentment; she was stating a fact. It was a warning for her daughter once she married.

Lady Akiyama turned back to her husband while the girl—albeit guiltily—focused on the laughing pianist. He played a composition she had never heard before. It was something of his own creation, she deduced, the notes quirky, up-beat and sad all at once. He noticed her staring and flurried the keys, flashing a cheeky grin.

She rarely smiled as it was inappropriate for young ladies to appear brash and forward. Yet she found her lips upturning, her cheeks stiff from the unused gesture. Mirai rose from her seat and instantly, her mother's fingers were clasped around her wrist, her brows tight.

"Mirai," she hissed, tossing a sideward glance at Master Shu, wishing her daughter would initiate a conversation with him instead.

"I am only curious about his music, mother," she reassured, gently tugging free. "Do not worry yourself."

Ignoring the exasperated sigh of the older woman, she crossed the room, thankful that her father and Lord Sakamaki were engrossed in their obnoxiously loud chatter. The man spared her a fleeting look when he turned the page of his sheet music, but otherwise did not cease playing.

"My mother says we aren't supposed to talk of you."

His lips were still slanted in jest, but when viewed up close, it was not a friendly smile, nor was it cruel. It was... cold. Mirai wondered if he was mocking her.

"Hm~? Is that so? Then shouldn't we be a good girl and take your dear mother's advice?"

Idly, she ran a finger along the brass candlestick, its shape mirrored in the instrument's glossy lid.

"I am not one to go against her wishes. I just came to compliment your music. You are talented, sir...?"

"Are you always so formal, little lady?"

He stopped playing. Swivelling on the stool, he pressed his elbow into the keys and his palm into his cheek. He stared up at her, and now, when directly under the candlelight, she realised his eyes were green, a few shades lighter than her mother's. He had a beauty mark under his chin which creased when he gave one of those odd smiles.

"It would be inappropriate for me to be informal when addressing you. After all, you are a stranger."

"Why, does the lady wish to become closer? Fufu, what a cute expression. I bet my old man wants to steal you away~"

Mirai flushed, but she did not miss the way his gaze hardened when he looked towards the head of the table.

"I am not a prize to be won, sir," she said. "Besides..." I am betrothed.

"'Sir' huh? No moral woman has ever called me that." He was teasing her again, but she was far too innocent to understand the connotations. "Laito will do. We can't have Lord Powerful seeing one of his bastard's becoming all high-and-mighty now can we? I hear the dungeons in this place aren't very comfortable."

She was awed by his bluntness. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance, sir—um, my apologies. Laito. I am Mirai. Mirai Akiyama."

His eyes flickered in recognition. "Oh~? Really? The one and only?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, so impatient! Let me explain~" He chuckled and resumed his stance at the piano. "During our teenage years, my brother would not shut up about some maiden with a pair of huge—"

Laito's speech was halted when a fist slammed down against the lid of the piano, the fall almost crushing his fingers.

"Listen you perverted bastard!" Subaru yelled. "Finish that sentence and I'll cut your pay!"

"Little brother is so mean, is he not? And I was only complimenting the lady."

"More like damn harassment," grumbled the youngest, casting Laito a scowl before returning to the window.

"Oh... Sir Laito," Mirai began, eyes wide in recollection. The pianist had given up on correcting her form of address and took it with some amusement. "Would I be wrong to assume you work at the Cupid's Bow tavern?"

"Work, live, imprisoned... who knows?"

"The hat shop I visit often with mother is opposite," she continued, ignorant of his sarcasm. "And I seem to remember a boy who does not look dissimilar to you."

"That would be Ayato in all of his stalking glory. Well, in any case... pleased to meet you, little lady."

"Yes..."

She did not consider herself an awkward person, yet here she was, grasping for a new subject. She was a girl who was exposed to very little of the world and the knowledge she had acquired was subjective to her class. She did not care that this man was poor, but it was likely that they had nothing in common and she did not want to insult him with ignorance or unintended snobbery.

Laito appeared to have noticed her inner turmoil and scooted down the bench, patting the empty space.

"Sit, I don't bite," he purred. "Fufu, unless you wish for it."

"Thank you, but I do not want to hinder your work."

Mirai gave a small curtsey and wandered over to a nearby side-table. It carried desserts of every kind: jellies and fruit pies, ginger biscuits and a pyramid-stack of macaroons. She took the plate of the colourful things and daringly sat on the bench beside him. She could feel the heat of her mother's gaze from across the room, so she made sure there was a respectable distance.

Laito purposely closed the gap and exclaimed in false-surprise. "Decided to hinder me after all?"

"Um, would you care for a macaroon? They're foreign, I believe. So of course, father doesn't trust them."

Her fingertips touched her lower-lip as she laughed; Laito blinked.

"Ne, what was that? Did the uptight lady laugh?"

Embarrassed, she cleared her throat and composed herself. "I am not inhuman, Sir Laito. You must understand that the society my mother introduced me into is not rich with... amusement."

Mirai craned her neck to assess the situation at the main table. The older men had sobered and were in a serious discussion about the current political situation; her mother was alone with her forehead creased in worry. Subaru had shifted a chair in front of the fire, the chill beside the window apparently too much to bear. He had a goblet in hand and drank it like water; the servant boy refilling it did not leave his side. Shu had awoken—reluctantly by the way he rubbed his eyes—and he tossed about the cold, uneaten food on his plate.

"Events such as these," she continued, "they're supposed to be a social call, but ironically, they can make one feel rather alone, don't you think?"

She decided that he must agree on some level. Laito was surrounded by aristocracy, and biologically they were his family, yet socially, he could not be more separate. For tonight he scarcely outranked a servant; he was an outcast.

Mirai waved a hand in dismissal, conscious that she had overstepped a boundary. "My apologies. My mother would have my head if she heard my tongue." Then the girl stood, with every intention of returning to her party.

"I'm disappointed," Laito inclined his head to the plate of macaroons on the lid. "Weren't you offering to feed me just now?"

She circled on her heel, stunned. "S-Sir?"

"Aw~ no fun, you're far too easy to tease," he laughed lightly. "But at least you're honest. Your cheeks are a very nice shade of red."

He plucked a biscuit from the stack and popped it into his mouth. He had quickly scanned the room for prying eyes and Mirai realised her naivety. Food was made for the family and their guests, not for servants and musicians. Nevertheless, he chewed it with a slight frown, considering the taste.

"Huh... it's sweet," he finally said.

"Haven't you—" Mirai stopped. Of course he hasn't tried them before, she berated herself. "Yes," she agreed instead, "they are."

Suddenly, the loud clinking of metal against glass rung throughout the room. She felt another presence beside her, and when she twisted her head, she was met with Subaru and his folded arms and his grumpy face. A part of her wondered whether he was once again preserving her dignity from the judging gaze of his father. She had been in the company of Laito for the majority of the evening, which was unbecoming for a young, unmarried lady.

It seemed she was correct, as when Lord Sakamaki's eyes drifted to the trio, they did not narrow. His preoccupation with Lord Akiyama—and litres of ale—made him assume his youngest son had been making his guest feel welcome.

"An announcement," the Lord began, gesturing for his servants to pass around fresh pewters. "And a toast, to mark the unity of our two houses."

Subaru cursed into his hand and slouched heavier against the instrument. He snatched the drink and downed the contents before the toast was initiated. Mirai stared at him, awed at his tolerance. He arched an eyebrow and nodded to her own cup.

"Don't you do that."

"No, I wouldn't dream," she replied. "I do not want to be carried out slung over my father's shoulder."

"Shame, little lady," Laito pouted. "We'd have such a great view from behind~"

Subaru's knuckles were white, but he did not dare shatter the growing silence with a threat.

"To my son and Miss Mirai on their betrothal," Lord Sakamaki continued, raising his goblet. "Hiraku and myself are in agreement of such an agreeable match, and I'm certain, my dear," he set his eyes on her, and Mirai thought the golden sparkle was a threat. "That you will give him plenty of sons. To Shu and Mirai!"

There was a joint striking of cups at the main table; Subaru muttered a very sarcastic "cheers" and clinked his empty one with hers. But the momentary quiet whilst everyone drank was disturbed.

"...What?"

It was the first time she had heard Master Shu speak since the hallway. He only spoke when it was necessary, which meant any small talk was out of the question. Her chatter-box of a mother had soon learned this after receiving an abundance of blank, silent responses to her comments about the weather.

His features were riddled with surprise, which was strange considering the passiveness of the man. He had even knocked over his goblet, the loaf sponging up the red. He was fully awake, at long last.

"My son, aren't you pleased that I have found you such a fine bride?"

Shu's face was unreadable. His eyes flickered to her, then settled on his father.

"I think she'll be fine to be somebody else's."

His voice was not loud, but it appeared so in the noiseless room.

Then, as though his impoliteness couldn't worsen, he stood and wordlessly left the great hall. Mirai and her parents were bewildered, blinking at the closed doors. Karl Sakamaki did not seem angered, and if he was, he did well to conceal it. He sighed, as though he had expected the reaction, and took his seat, apologising and blaming Master Shu's behaviour on drink. But she knew his goblet went untouched.

"Shu has a special way to make a woman feel wanted, ne?"

Mirai was flooded with self-consciousness. Her fingers automatically went to her hair, feeling the familiar bane of coarse, bumpy curls. Her mother had been correct. Gentlemen do not like maidens who look like wild, little wood-sprites.

.:.

Shu Sakamaki sat by the door of his father's study; he often found the older man bunkered down in there. It was a place he used to gather his thoughts and to sketch-out his newest scheme.

If this had befallen upon Subaru, he would be pacing, and the pair of oriental vases guarding the doorway would be in pieces. But he hadn't the energy to fuss. Shu had been in this predicament before, and each time he had wiggled himself out of it. He made a loose promise to his father that he would marry before he was thirty, and four years still remained of his so-called freedom; he couldn't understand the rush. A wife was just another person to nag him, just another responsibility to deal with. Then there was the duty of children...

Unintentionally, Yui Komori's petrified, tear-streaked face floated into his mind; it was the day she told him of her engagement to Reiji Kasei. Seventeen and as innocent as a lamb, not even been kissed, he remembered her wailing. Back then, she hadn't dared to show weakness like that in front of Subaru; she had told him calmly and assured him not to worry.

Shu suggested not to marry the doctor if it caused her misery. But she shook her head, dried her eyes and met his stare, level and beyond her years. She had no choice, she had told him, because she was a poor girl without an alternative. It was funny how a person could have both a fanciful and practical nature. It was hard to believe that she had been a fairytale-dreaming child.

He was a powerful man, but that day, he felt very powerless indeed.

That feeling struck him now; something told him he wouldn't be able to evade the Akiyama's easily. The mad-haired woman wasn't anything special to look at, nor did her conversation give him any inclination to stay awake. But her family outranked any of his previous betrothals, and as their fathers were friendly, it would cause strife if their union was terminated.

He exhaled, leaned his head against the wooden panel and curled a hand around his knee, wishing his father would make haste and wrap-up the dinner party.

After some time, there was a muffled sound of voices, then a thud and the jingling of locks, signalling the guests had finally left. He waited to hear the clicks of his father's boots against the tile.

"You have the tact of a child," was the first thing Lord Sakamaki said. He looked down at his slouching form, his lips pressed into a thin line. "The Akiyama's are a fine breed of a family. You should be grateful that I have found you a home-bred woman—in the same village no less! Would you prefer it if I made a contract with a foreign Lord? Would you be happy with a wife who cannot say 'good morning' in an understandable tongue?"

"I'm not yet thirty," Shu said, quietly, but his gaze did not stray from gold. "I know this may be alarming to a man like you, father... but having a wife does little to interest me."

Karl Sakamaki repeated his words, gave a cold smile, and unlocked his study. He sunk into the leather chair behind his desk; Shu lingered in the doorway, having no intentions to stay long.

"My son, are you implying that women do not interest you? Folly, of course... I have seen you and your brother in the tavern, and I have seen the flushes of young maids when they meet your gaze. You mean to tell me, that a man as old as you, has never given into the temptation of a woman's touch?"

Shu turned away and occupied himself in the wall of books. It was a pretentious collection written in dead languages. He couldn't understand the point of beholding them if no knowledge could be gained; they were gathering dust.

He didn't want to engage in the subject his father had brought up, but he felt the need to end the growing silence.

"As why I go to that noisy place... it's to make sure that brat doesn't get himself arrested."

"And?"

"My business is my own," said Shu, terse. "I do not have three living trophies, so it shouldn't concern you."

Lord Sakamaki, as collected as always, rubbed his jaw and studied his young heir, casting a glance to the pair of oil-paintings hanging on either side of the window. They were of his two fair-haired wives. Lady Christa wore a ghost-like smile as she sat on a garden swing, the whiteness of her being enhanced by the surrounding roses. Lady Beatrix lacked emotion and her blue eyes were firm, but the delicacy of the composition was balanced by the soft brushstrokes of her skirts.

"I cannot see—nor have I ever seen—any of myself in you," Karl began. "You are your mother's son, there is no question. It's disconcerting. I almost feel like Beatrix herself is here reprimanding my past behaviours."

Shu followed his gaze to the window. Each time he saw a portrait of his mother he tensed, possessed by an urge to straighten his posture and clothing. She had died when he was barely four-years-old, and he remembered her in snippets: her clipped words and strictness, the silky fabric of her skirts and her icy-cold hands. He never saw her smile, and even in paintings, the artists hadn't dared to envision the impossible.

He sat down in the armchair opposite the desk, sighing as he did so, knowing his father's wistful sentiments had extended their meeting.

"The triplets may be troublesome, but make no mistake—I am not so heartless as to wish away their existence."

"This reminds me—I have been informed, by the good doctor's evaluation, that the Komori bastard is due in the upcoming winter," Karl explained, venturing over to the table of liquors. He poured himself wine and raised the glass in offering; Shu refused. "Tell me, Shu—do you think me a cruel man? Do you pity the woman and give her your charity like Subaru? Nonsense, of course. That boy is too soft-hearted. It is only right to punish those who oppose the Christian Laws. Many say I am lenient. Countless souls have lost their lives to the gallows for such a crime—a scarlet letter is more than any sinful woman deserves."

"As I have said before... I have no opinion on the matter," Shu said, becoming weary of his rambling. "Subaru can do what he likes, whether that is carrying some of her shame upon his shoulders or pulling out his dagger for every wrong look. You as well, father... punish her as you see fit. I do not care for the woman."

The older man had taken his seat; he reclined and swilled the contents of his glass.

"Is that so?"

"My own duties are tiring enough... do you honestly think I would waste whatever energy I have to spare on the affairs of a lowly minister's daughter?"

"Indeed," he shook his head and chuckled. "I wouldn't dare to suspect you, my son. I thought it safe to put the doctor's worries to rest. He is not discreet about his suspicions, and I cannot have our name soiled with untruths."

"He's a pain," grumbled Shu, resting a fist against his cheek. "Though... I imagine vengeance to be more of an interesting past time than gathering herbs."

"Yes, quite, and much more rewarding."

Shu cleared his throat. "We're digressing. About this... marriage. I refuse. All high-born women are the same—empty-headed and annoying."

Karl Sakamaki's eyes glinted behind the glass' rim. "Did you believe you had a choice?"

"Let her marry Subaru if you're so concerned over scorning your friend."

"I do not need sons from him—after all, one does not invest in silver when they have gold. If you're adamant on refusing her and wish to elope with whichever maiden you fancy, then yes, let your brother marry Miss Mirai and he can be heir. But we have had this conversation many times over, have we not?"

They had. Shu was free to abandon his position but there were consequences: he would be disowned, and all of his inheritance and power would cease to exist. This didn't bother him as he could get by with his music and intellect. It was the fate of Subaru which made the act unthinkable. The youngest would be crowned as the Sakamaki heir, and as he had an undisciplined upbringing, he would be an unfavourable choice. Shu cared for very few people and thus he could not allow his little brother to be subject to the torment and stress he had endured. He could not be so selfish.

"...Fine," he murmured, wincing as he felt a familiar jolt of pain in his head.

"Excellent," his father clapped his hands and drained his glass. "Tomorrow you will go to the Akiyama manor and offer your sincere apologies for your behaviour this evening."

"Hn... whatever," Shu humoured him, knowing he would bribe Subaru with the task instead.

"My, haven't you caused unnecessary dramatics? She is merely your wife, Shu. There to bear you strong sons and nothing more. I am not ordering you to love the woman."

Shu grimaced and returned to look at the portraits of the two unloved, disposable women. A mixture of emotions swelled in his chest when he realised he was following in his father's footsteps.

A/N: Don't worry about me sneaking an OC into this story—she won't in any way replace Yui as the heroine. There are only so many canon characters in DL, and I've tried to make use of all of them, but sometimes the plot demands more of a... female presence.

I know Yui hasn't made much of an appearance as of late, but I plan for her to finally give birth in the next chapter which should get the plot moving!

As always, thank you for reading! Any feedback will be greatly appreciated :D

allyelle~