Chapter 2

There was a time when she thought that they were mere strangers to each other – that the other girl was just a visitor who was fondly adored by her mother and father.

There was a time, when she was a lot younger than now, too young to understand how complex the society they're living in, that she thought her parents were favoring a girl unrelated to them more than they did to their own blood.

But could the adults blame her? When her older sister barely lived in their house and spent much more time with people she barely knew? When her older sister only come by their home twice a week, thrice if the Britannias were being generous, and then leave her by Monday to play on her own?

Shirley Fenette once thought that her older sister was someone who she needed to compete with to gain their parents' affection, particularly their father's. Their blacksmith father who would always abandon any work he was doing in order to greet the green-haired girl outside the gate – lifting her up in the air making her emerald tresses danced with the wind as a joyous smile plastered on his lips.

Why are you stealing my father from me? she asked once.

Amber eyes stared back at her with innocent confusion yet also with unusual maturity for a ten-year old girl and that suddenly made Shirley felt small and afraid.

But later on, after a few explanations from her mother and much attention from her father, Shirley Fenette understood how important the older girl's sacrifice is for the wellbeing of their family. How Ceci's sacrifice could easily had been hers if she was born first. Since then, Shirley cherishes each day that her sister spend at home especially now that there is only the two of them working together to continue their family's legacy. Or what little left of it, as Ceci always says with a frown.

Familiar hooves dance on earth as the ginger woman rises from her perch by the window. Cheerfully, she runs down the narrow stairs – the light fabric of her cerulean skirt skimming her milky skin – as she mindlessly pats her hair down, a gesture she had learned from her overly-proper sister.

Opening the door, the sight of Ceci going out of the Britannia's carriage greets her and her run gradually become slower until she is a princess walking graciously down the pathway.

"Welcome back."

The hooded figure turns to the sound of her voice but waits patiently until the carriage left and privacy is bestowed to them. Taking the hood off, Shirley scrunches her nose at the sight of her sister's long hair tied neatly in a bun.

"I'm glad to be back."

And that's the only signal she is waiting for before giving Ceci a tight hug that is pleasantly returned. Pulling away, the younger woman immediately carries her sister's luggage and hooks her arm around her companion. Ceci's advice of putting the luggage inside their house first falls onto deaf ears. Leading them away from the house, they trek the little distance across the street until they arrive infront of a wooden bungalow where a sign reading, "Fenette Knife Shop" hangs over the door.

"Good morning everyone!" is the ginger's bright greetings to the staff of the shop.

Too bright for this cloudy day, if someone asks one of them.

"My, you are a tad lively today, miss," a man, forty years of age with hair that shines blue under the non-existing sun, polishing a newly created bread knife, answers without turning to the newcomers. Lifting the cutlery above his eyes, he inspects for the littlest stain that could do great damage for business.

Shirley clears her throat and finally catches their shopkeeper's attention. And as soon as his sharp orange eyes land on their figures, the knife is immediately forgotten and is rather hastily hanged on the wall.

"Ceci!"

"And here I was thinking that knives have replaced me in your heart, Uncle Jeremiah," Ceci teases. They share a long welcoming hug, but not as long as what Shirley gave her earlier.

"Oh, that is as impossible as me finding a wife," he laughs, then in a voice much deeper than he just used, he shouts, "Rivalz! Nina! Gino! Ceci is home!"

Shirley wanders to the knife display behind the counter and lets Ceci's little reunion with the staff fill the background. After putting the luggage down on the floor, her fingers lightly touch the cold metals, feeling the smoothness and sharpness of their edges which have been familiar to her since she was a child.

"You look thinner than the last time you went home," Gino comments.

"Gino, that is such an impolite thing to say to a lady," Nina hisses.

"Well, I'm just worried if the viscount is being good to her."

"Everything is fine at the mansion. The viscount had just returned home yesterday after being away for two weeks for an official business with the earl."

"So," Uncle Jeremiah begins, "Did he tell you why the Britannia Household had stopped purchasing their silverwares from the shop?"

From the corner of Shirley's eyes, she sees Ceci's lips tightened as she shakes her head. "He had been occupied since he came back and didn't allow anyone to come to his study except for the twins. Is everything around here fine? Is the business doing well?"

"To be honest…" Shirley hears the surrender in her uncle's voice and the defeated aura from Gino and Nina is so strong she can feel it while her back is on them. In a reflex, the ginger grabs the knife infront of her and points it to her sister.

"Ceci, for old time's sake?" she challenges.

Ceci's golden eyes gaze worriedly back to the people infront of her. Her sister is overwhelmingly perceptive and Shirley is certain that she had already felt that there is something wrong in the shop. Well, if the full-packed knife display and empty shop didn't already give them away, the dead atmosphere would. So before everything would turn sour during the very first hour of her sister's visit, Shirley could only think of one thing to divert the mood.

After a few moments of contemplation, Ceci flashes them a quick smile and accepts her challenge.

Uncle Jeremiah flips the store sign to 'Closed', and together they all proceed to the back of the shop. There, a board marked with numbers and apples hangs on one wall. The rest of the group gather behind Ceci who stands fifteen feet from the board. Five sharp knives in hand, she throws one which neatly lands on the bull's eye. Gino whistles, impressed.

She throws another landing it next to the first knife. Then another, and another, all hitting the biggest score.

And the sight brings Shirley both pride and insecurity. For who would have thought that Britannia's proper and modest governess is a beast when it comes to handling and playing with cutleries? Who would have thought that her slender, candle-shaped hands possess a skill which rivals that of a trained assassin? Who would have thought that the woman whose life had been dedicated to caring and gentleness for children has a great love for sharp deadly objects that could end lives? What an irony.

Father, God bless his soul, had thought them of this skill. When Shirley was eight and Ceci was thirteen. It was a learning time that Mother, God bless her soul, too, was truly against but never stopped. Whenever Ceci was home, they would gather in the basement where they would spend an hour learning different types of knives. Father would teach them about their weights and how much strength should be applied when throwing certain types.

Father was a blacksmith, but in Shirley's young eyes, sometimes he became a circus performer.

Shirley is an average student, with a skill that was passable to stall some time during an attack. Ceci though, Ceci was a chameleon – absorbing the lessons like a second skin and wielding the knives like they were an extension of her arm. Shirley would train five days a week while Ceci only had a few days a month to learn tricks but still, the older girl emerged more skillful than her. Once she asked her if she secretly trained while in the mansion but Ceci immediately gave her a frightened expression enough to diminish the thought from Shirley's mind. So how, so why, was she this good and Shirley wasn't? Why was she always best at whatever she did and Shirley only average?

To be fair, Ceci never boasted about this. She never turned anything that they did together as competition. If anything else, she had always helped Shirley with things the latter found difficult to do. She is kind, she is patient. Truly fitted to be a governess.

And Shirley is left with the family business that she isn't good at. If not for Uncle Jeremiah's smarts and practicality, the shop would have been closed a long time ago. And she wouldn't forgive herself if that ever happens. She wouldn't forgive herself if she destroys her sister's dream.

The last knife easily lands on the wooden handle of the first one and the group cheers for the governess. After Gino removed the knives from the board, Shirley pulls out an apple from her pocket and stands infront of the board. She places the apple on top of her head and glances at Ceci.

"And now, for the finale."

She watches as the governess assumes the position. Heart racing, Shirley clutches the sides of her blue skirt as she anticipates the scenario. It's been three months since they last did this and the adrenaline coursing through her sharpens her excitement. She can hear Nina mumbling a prayer in the background but everything fades away when she sees the subtle smirk on her sister's lips. She smirks back.

And the knife flies and both women do not even blink.

And Shirley stands there, the apple on her head pinned against the board while Uncle Jeremiah, Gino and Nina rain Ceci praises. She searches for the pride she felt a while ago and is glad when it's still there. The insecurity, too.

But above all, when her sister escapes from their enthusiasm and quickly checks on her safety – hands patting her head, her cheeks, her shoulders, eyes roaming her face as if she's one of the children Ceci's taking care of – above all Shirley is always grateful to have her as her family.

"A sister and a brother?"

"Twins to be exact."

"You have a younger sister and a younger brother?"

The raven-haired man grunts in response as his drunk friend asks for the hundredth time tonight about the situation that his mother revealed and wanted for him to control earlier this week.

"Lelouch Lamperouge, the infamous bastard of the Lamperouge manor and a Cassanova taking care of adorable twins? That is enough to make me laugh for a century."

"You badly want for your tongue to be cut, huh, Luciano? I'll do it happily and slowly for you. And I would not be taking care of the twins, I will be there to take my inheritance then walk away. And most importantly, I am not Cassanova," he lazily ends. His right wrist mindlessly moves swirling the deep red alcohol in his cup.

Through beady grey eyes, his friend Luciano cracks a devilish smile as he gestures to his left. "Then who is this girl? I believe that she is not Kallen. What's your name?"

"My name's Christine. I've told you that earlier," the blonde girl haughtily says.

Lelouch squeezes her side which earns him a giggle. Pulling her closer to him, he buries his nose into the crook of her neck and inhales her overly-perfumed scent deeply. Another giggle.

"That tickles."

"I'm good at figuring out the ticklish parts," he whispers. "I can find every ticklish part of your body, if you'll allow me."

"O-Oh."

Luciano laughs as the girl turns into a human tomato. Lelouch pulls away and rests his head on the back of the chair. His half-lidded amethyst eyes wander around the pub. Disinterest shrouds them as he thinks of a certain redhead all furious and jealous when she discovers that her lover is spending time with other girls. Again. Well, she will understand. She always understands and she had already understood – that Lelouch Lamperouge wouldn't be tied down by a leash no matter how tight and unbreakable the leash is. That Lelouch Lamperouge is a man that every girl in their small village desires and he enjoys being desired. For it is not him who chases the girls but the other way around. And who is he to break their pure innocent hearts? He is a gentleman, after all. Or as gentle as he could be. They offer and he just accepts, although there are only certain ways he allowed them to be close to him. He is still a "faithful" man to his lover, there's that.

He gives Christine a chaste kiss on the lips before telling her to leave them for the night. Being chased is tiring as well, particularly if it happens every day.

"Just tell me if you are done with Kallen. I'll definitely take her."

The glare that he throws at Luciano is as dangerous and deadly as the pocket knife he is playing on his right hand now. The harsh glint of the silver glimmers in the dimly-lit room easily catching the fear of the blonde man.

"… Or not," Luciano weakly continues. "Well, let's go back to your problem, shall we?"

"My problem?"

"Are you going to follow your mother's wishes?"

Lelouch shrugs. "I better be. We both know how stubborn and insisting she can be when she does not get what she wants. Besides," he lifts his feet and rests his ankles on top of the table – a gesture his mother perpetually hates. "I have nothing to lose but more to gain if I succeed with this."

Crossing his arms, Luciano leans back and raises a brow at his friend. "So you'll just travel to the mansion, storm in the viscount's room and demand for your inheritance? Is it going to be that easy? What about the twins? I am certain that the viscount had already divided his properties and treasures among his legitimate children."

"They're just seven years old," Lelouch waves him off. "Barely an obstacle if you'll ask me. And mother has enough evidence to prove to the viscount that I am his first-borne."

"Well, I wish you luck with that."

Suddenly, Lelouch rises from his seat and his voice echoes in the room. All of the pub's patrons turn to him while Luciano covers his mouth as he tries to suppress his drunken laughter.

Arms wide spread, Lelouch dramatically gestures, "Father, oh Father, why have you forgotten about me, how dare you forget about me? I have longed for your warmth and affection, growing in this poor excuse of a village wondering where you were. Father, oh Father, please do not reject me for I am here to steal everything you have."

Boisterous applause reverberates in the atmosphere as his audience holler cheers and praises for his little show. He drinks in the intoxicating attention thrown at him. He is still bowing when Luciano grabs his shoulders and drags him out of the pub. The hot air does very little to sober them up but escaping the crowd of rowdy villagers helps lessen the headache that is growing behind Lelouch's eyes.

"You're mad. You've gone mad," Luciano says in between laughter, his body doubled over.

Fixing the collar of his coat and brushing away the stains on the fabric though he cannot do anything about the leftover lipstick stain, Lelouch looks down at his friend feeling all mighty and powerful like a prince ready to take over the enemy's kingdom.

"I have long been mad, Luciano. I am just good at hiding it."

And suddenly, the summer night turns chilling.

It is past eight in the evening when finally, the son enters the living room of the house. The conversation easily dies down as two pairs of eyes watch as he staggers into the room and slumps himself beside the redhead lady, immediately wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Hello Lelouch."

"Hello, Mother."

"Kallen and I were just talking about your departure tomorrow. I hope that you spent your last night here wisely."

The disheveled appearance of her son clearly tells her that wherever he spent the last few hours, he spent it somewhere indecent, and most probably, with his friend Bradley. And is that a woman's cheap perfume coming from him? The impudence of this young man to sit beside his lover while wearing the scent of another woman, good grief! But as much as she wants to reprimand him to act more proper and gentlemanly, Marianne does not dare to put Lelouch in a bad mood the night before he goes away to fulfil his mission.

Ah, his mission that will finally save them from this godforsaken place. If he succeeds in convincing the viscount, they will gain wealth that she only sees in her dreams, jewelry that every woman will envy, land that stretches until the ends of the world. Marianne will be a true lady of the house, no, of the mansion and it's all thanks for that one faithful night of meeting a young noble man twenty-two years ago.

Twenty-two years ago when she was living the life of a prostitute – shunned by the society, treated like an animal. When she only ate food thrown at her by her employer, spoilt and stale. When noble women spitted on her feet and noble men touched her when she didn't want to be touched.

But the viscount was a different man. Oh, he really was! As soon as he entered the room all those years ago, as soon as his melancholic amethyst eyes found hers in the crowded space, she knew that he was a dove among the crows.

But that was twenty-two years ago. She was past that stage of her life yet she isn't on the one where she badly wants to be.

So here is her last chance to fulfil her dreams – by using the sole product of her shameful past life. A little sacrifice from the years of swallowing her pride and bowing to the undeserving.

"I spent it," Lelouch shortly answers, already distracted by the woman next to him.

"I am expecting a lot from you, Lelouch."

"When did I ever disappoint you, Mother?"

Everytime you forget how to act like a noble man, which is all the time, she wanted to say. But instead, she just shoos the lovers away, giving them enough time to say their good byes.

And Marianne, or Lady Marianne like she dreams to be called, sits alone in the living room and practices fluttering her eyelashes as a noble woman would.

"Lelouch, stop. Hold on, Lelouch."

"What is the matter, Kallen?"

His busy hands stop grabbing her waist, much more to his disappointment. Lips swollen, eyes dazed, he tries to focus on the beauty lying on his bed.

"You smell of woman's perfume," Kallen says with her head turned in disdain.

"Bradley and I went to the pub earlier."

"With another woman."

He shrugs.

The redhead is strong for her size so when she pushes him away, he bounces for a couple of times beside her. Certain that this night wouldn't turn out as he wanted it to be, he rests his arm of his eyes and sighs deeply.

"You are aware of my situation."

"You could just say 'no'. Is it too difficult for you to say no and consider my feelings, Lelouch?"

At the sound of despair in her voice, the young man turns to his side and gently caresses the woman's lovely face. She is the loveliest girl in the village with her tan skin and fiery hair. Other men envy him for being with her, while other woman are jealous of her for capturing his heart. Heads turn towards them whenever they walk together around town and he would be lying if he says that he didn't like the attention and how it made him feel more powerful and above them when they stare in awe.

But it is not just for show that he is with Kallen. He genuinely cares for the girl and the qualities that attracts Lelouch most are her strong will and convictions.

But tonight, she is showing him her vulnerability and he feels guilty.

Eyes lowered, he utters, "I am sorry."

A sigh. "You're always sorry. Listen…" this time, she turns to face him. "I understand that you are at that age where you seek adventures in your life, in your career, and even in bed. But Lelouch, you are no more a boy, but a man who has responsibilities, who has a significant lover and you cannot just prance around town charming every girl who lay her eyes on you."

"…"

"You must think of your reputation especially now that there is a possibility for you to be a nobleman. You must act accordingly to your status and – "

"You are sounding like my mother. Is this what afternoon teas with her does to you?"

"Lelouch!" She hits him on the chest.

He laughs. "I'm just jesting."

Suddenly, Kallen's eyes grow wary which makes him wary as well. Because Kallen is never wary. He is the one who is always wary of her strength and beliefs. "You'll probably find more beautiful girls in Britannia. Someone with more class, someone rich."

Lelouch frowns. He does not realize how the situation truly bothers her until now.

"Someone who can show you things that this little town of ours couldn't offer and you'll be swallowed by their world, taking you away from us… from me."

"That wouldn't happen. I am not going to stay there forever. As soon as I get my inheritance, I will come back here, to you. There may be a lot of girls out there, but no one can compare to your beauty."

"You're a terrible liar."

"But you still like me this way."

Pushing a stray hair from her face, his hand cups her cheek and lets it rest there. Kallen is someone very special to him. A childhood friend turned lover. Even though he is still uncertain if what he feels for her is actually love, he does not want to cause her more pain than he is giving her right now.

"Then promise me. You will never have an affair in Britannia and in anywhere you go, especially when you are away from me."

Eyes colored with the bluest water wait for his response. He hesitates for a second, then he nods, "I promise."

Finally, the woman sighs in relief and proceeds to bury her face on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around her slender body – an action that was embedded in him for years.

He promised, huh? His smile is that of a disappointment – at himself and at his future actions. Because he knows – Kallen and he both knows ever since childhood – that he can never hold his promises.

Well, this time, he might actually try to stop breaking his words and start fulfilling them. He just wonders how long he will last.

The reading time of the twins is disturbed by the sound of an arriving carriage. Surprised, they quickly abandon their work and peek through the large window.

"Young masters, Miss Ceci would be sad if you don't finish your work on time," their nanny says as she follows them to where they are standing.

"A carriage arrived, Miss Milly!" There's an excited glint on Nunnally's eyes.

"Is it Miss Ceci? Did she return here much earlier?" asks Rolo.

Ah, of course. Only two people could make the children this giddy. The viscount and the governess. But Milly didn't know that her friend had a change of plans and is set to return today. Looking over, her gaze follows the moving carriage until it stops infront of the doors. Someone alighted but they are not visible from the window.

Like a wind, the twins run past her, dashing through the corridors, and down to the grand stairs. Gasping, Milly catches up with them in the middle of the stairs and immediately grabs their arms as soon as she sees the viscount's back.

"Who is papa talking to?" inquires Nunnally.

"That's not Miss Ceci," adds Rolo.

Very much not their Miss Ceci. Milly narrows her eyes. It is a man. A man with silky black hair and piercing amethyst eyes that reminded her of someone. He wears a decent brown coat and tie but her meticulous eyes observe that they are not made of the finest material. Who is he? An unexpected guest of the viscount? The man's eyes find them and an unpleasant feeling washes over Milly. Yet the stare is quick and almost non-existent, and the man is back to talking to the viscount. Their voices are too low for them to hear, and oh, what are they still doing here eavesdropping? She should usher the twins back to the library and resume their reading. She will certainly hear an earful from Ceci if Nunnally forgets her consonants. But suddenly the people downstairs move. Rushed but silent, their feet shuffle over the carpeted floor. Milly stiffens when the viscount notices them and the gaze that he gives is one she had never seen before.

"Please look after the twins for a while. I will be in a very important meeting for a long time."

"Yes, my lord."

The viscount bestows his children an apologetic smile before resuming his walk. But the man… The man behind him stops infront of them and… is he sneering at the twins? Like a snake hissing at his prey? Milly immediately hides them behind her skirt.

"So you are the little Britannia twins?" His voice is deep and unkind. The question was thrown like an accusation. Milly knows that it is wrong to judge someone during their first meeting, but she couldn't help but judge right now. This man, he looks like he would only bring trouble, he looks like trouble himself. An influence that is bad for the younger ones.

Nunnally and Rolo look up at her, their eyes asking whether they should respond or not.

"Mr. Lamperouge?"

The trio is saved by the viscount. Giving them a last once over, Mr. Lamperouge finally follows the head of the mansion, leaving Milly and the twins frozen on their place.

"Who is he, Miss Milly? Is he papa's friend?" Rolo asks.

"Is he going to stay here for a while? I don't feel good around him," Nunnally worriedly declares.

Well, if her masters can feel the unwanted atmosphere that just succumbed them at their young age, it is only right for Milly to be apprehensive and cautious of the viscount's unknown guest.