Bit of heaviness in this chapter.
I'm not sorry! :D
Merry paused on the bottom step of the stairs on route to the kitchen, staring in confusion at her front door which was currently being abused by someone wanting to get in.
There were only three house staff permitted to stay with her permanently; Jun, Hideo and Daisuke, though the latter lived off site. Hideo was running errands and playing babysitter while Jun was entertaining her guests.
Daisuke wasn't scheduled to work today.
She padded softly towards the door, flicking the latch and opening it to peer outside. She raised a brow at the sight of Ayanokoji, acting as if she hadn't been trying to break down the front door, seeming to float in a white dress that was beautiful in its simplicity.
It didn't seem to suit the Princess at all, especially when it was teamed with such sharp eyes and a faux smile.
"Good morning, Merry. I was hoping we could talk?" the Princess said, making her way inside without further ado. A burly bodyguard followed her and Merry closed the door behind them both with a soft click.
"Shall I show you to the parlour?" Merry smiled, though it was warring with a frown.
Ayanokoji's smile broadened. "That would be lovely."
"This way."
The Princess sunk down onto the plush sofa as if she were made of delicate crystal, gaze flitting about. "Your house is very… quaint," she said, as if it were something secretly humorous.
"Thank you," Merry said. "Would you like some tea?"
Best to be polite. To her slight surprise, the Princess declined her offer. She was expecting the upperclassman to want to be as difficult as possible. Merry's mind began to race.
What did she have that the Princess could possibly want? Or was it something else entirely?
"I'm actually here on business." The Princess snapped her fingers and suddenly her bodyguard was at her side, handing over a manila file that was placed on the coffee table between them. "You see, after our first meeting I couldn't help but feel that everything went horribly wrong. Though I can't really blame you. Meeting a royal can be quite overwhelming."
Merry smiled lightly. "Quite."
"But I did not want that to ruin a chance at friendship," the Princess tacked on. "My father and your father play golf together often. To have such tension between both of us would be ill advisable and frankly, quite silly."
"I see your logic," Merry conceded. "Though I am still confused as to why you are here." She kept the manila file in her peripheral, eyes locked on to Ayanokoji's.
"It's quite simple," the Princess grinned. "If you simply apologise for your dastardly behaviour, we can part ways as friends and future associates."
Merry quirked a brow. "Apologise?"
"Of course."
Merry was quiet for a long time, waiting to see if the Princess had suddenly discovered a sense of humour and had been joking with her all along.
"No."
Ayanokoji's smile froze. "I'm afraid I must have misheard you," she said, voice turning frosty as her guard flexed his biceps menacingly. "Are you not going to apologise to me?"
"No, I'm not," Merry said, gaze hard. "Unless, of course, you are happy to apologise to me as well? You did, after all, threaten the future of my education at Ouran."
"You insulted me first!" Ayanokoji hissed, still looking regal despite her tone. "Social equity demands an apology!"
"I retaliated in a manner suited to the situation. You do not have my respect, Princess, therefore you will not be receiving an apology from me."
The Princess seethed, so much so that Merry wondered if her red hair would turn into flames.
Then Ayanokoji settled, becoming skilfully calm and distant. "Very well. I did not want to have to resort to this." She flipped open the manila folder and spaced out a number of photographs inside, spanning them across the coffee table. "Please. Go ahead and look."
Merry leant forward, eyes scanning the contents with an impassive face. Every so often she would pause, stare longer at one in particular before moving on.
Merry flipped the file close. "Are you aware, Ayanokoji-chan, that stalking and harassment is illegal? If you happened to hire a private investigator to take these photographs then you are in breach of not only privacy, but you have also revealed that you are morally inept."
"You-"
"Furthermore, as I have said to you before, to be insulted one must care about what is being said. That also goes for intimidation, which I am assuming is your goal. It will not work, and I do not appreciate having my staff followed, Princess."
"Your staff are complete and utterly perverse ingrates!" Ayanokoji snapped, looking triumphant. "No one would accept you if they knew the type of people you hired. Your driver frequents Okama bars, your butler is an ex-yakuza and your chef did a stint in the psychiatric ward! If you do not wish for your little world to come crashing down about your ears then you will fall in line."
"Or what?" Merry hissed, eyes narrowed and voice as cold as the arctic. "You are not revealing anything new to me, Princess. We all make mistakes and have to choose paths that may not be the easiest." She knew from experience. "Sometimes the choices given weren't dictated by ourselves."
"You will be an outcast."
"Then so be it."
Ayanokoji stared at Merry. "Do you truly not care? Your staff is a reflection of you and your business practices. Perfection begets perfection. I'm willing to overlook these things if you are willing to cooperate with me."
"How gracious of you," Merry deadpanned. "If that is all, I'd like you to leave now. The smell of your bullshit is stinking up my home."
The Princess looked like she'd been slapped. "W-what? How dare-!"
"No! How dare you?!" Merry screamed, finally losing her temper and rising to her feet. Her fists were clenched so hard her knuckles turned white. Her fiery glare pinned the bodyguard in place. "You come into my home, you insult my staff and you seek to intimidate me because of your petty wounded pride! A wrong sense of self entitlement is an ugly trait, Princess, and your shallowness astounds me. I am not some weak willed twit that will be swayed by idle threats!"
"You-"
"Furthermore, one does not bring a bodyguard to simple 'business meetings' as you so put it. It is highly offensive and a sign of poor practice. To be honest, I fear for your father's company if you are slated to take over."
Ayanokoji's face was as red as her hair, her breathing hard. "You have no idea what you've just done," she spat. "My father-"
"Your family are rather strict traditionalists, are they not?" Merry calmly interjected, though the ice in her gaze still remained.
"What does that have-"
"And your birthday is September 22nd, yes?"
"I fail to see-"
"But what intrigues me," Merry cut in once more, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Is how your parents celebrate their wedding anniversary on February 18th on the same year as your birth. As you said, our fathers play golf together. Your father is quite a proud man, always speaking highly of his little girl who was 'eight pounds, ten ounces of joy.'" Ayanokoji paled. "You were quite heavy for a premature baby, Ayanokoji-chan."
"J-just what are you implying? That I'm illegitimate?" She spat the word like it was something foul, despite looking panicked.
"Not like Tamaki-san, no."
Ayanokoji floundered. "Tamaki-sama is not-"
"Ah, my apologies. Since lineage and social standing are so important to you I assumed you were all accepting of Tamaki-san. But if that's not the case, then you are just as shallow and callous as I first assumed." Merry sighed wearily. "Get out of my house before I call security. Your presence is not welcome."
With tears brimming, the Princess stood as primly as her tattered pride would allow and made her way towards the parlour door.
"Oh, and Princess?" Ayanokoji froze. "I trust that what happened here today is not going to be repeated. That would be rather unfortunate, don't you think?"
The girl fled, followed closely by her bodyguard. The front door slammed behind her.
Merry's shoulders slumped, exhaustion hitting her. She collapsed onto the sofa, massaging her temples for a long minute.
"Are you going to stand out there all day?" she called.
After a few moments, Kyoya appeared at the doorway, looking more composed than he had earlier. His eyes revealed nothing.
Merry dropped her hand to glare weakly at him. "It's rude to eavesdrop."
He raised a brow. "Coming from you that is rather hypocritical."
"Touché," she sighed.
"I must say, Ice Queen is quite an appropriate nickname," Kyoya mused, walking forward to sit on the sofa opposite her. "You can be quite brutal and malicious. I'm almost scared." He was quiet for a moment. "Is Hideo-san really an ex-Yakuza?"
Merry smirked, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders. "Are you suddenly afraid of him?"
"No."
"Then why ask?"
"Curious for curiosity's sake."
"Didn't curiosity kill the cat?" Merry asked.
"He had eight more lives."
Merry laughed, the sound filling the room. "Why does that not surprise me? Besides, I'm sure you already know the answer."
Kyoya smiled slightly. "Am I that transparent?"
"No, just predictable." Merry looked as though she was debating something. "I come from a broken family," she said slowly. "My mother died giving birth to me, and my father, brilliant though he may be, feels emotions very strongly. I remind him of his grief."
Kyoya's brows raised. She was freely giving information to him? Why now? He remained quiet, waiting to see if she would continue but she didn't. She was trying to tell him something, though it alluded him, like a missing puzzle piece.
Merry rose, suddenly looking as exhausted as she must have felt. "I'm tired. Please tell Jun-san that I'm going to bed. I apologise for being a poor host. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Kyoya-san."
She disappeared, leaving Kyoya to think that maybe, just maybe, as much as he wanted to uncover every little thing about her, that her past might not be as wonderful and straightforward as she made it out to be. She was crass, rude, sly and sneaky, but her loyalty and respect was absolute for those she considered close. She had fire in her that threatened to burn anyone who endangered her or her own.
An admirable trait that seemed so out of place with what he'd compiled about her so far.
He would not repeat the conversation he heard, but mentally filed it away. Just in case.
The Host Club left shortly afterwards, but not before hearing a familiar haunting violin record scratching against a needle.
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