XXX

A/N: Yikes. Sorry again, Guys. I don't know how to write "meet-cutes". So that's why it took me so long with Lili & Francis' section.

I'm going to use italics for characters' thoughts quite liberally. I'm also going to be using them, most of the time, for words that aren't English. I can put translations at the bottom, if you really, really want me to, but to be honest I might forget or get lazy, and really, they aren't crucial to know for the story itself. I just switch languages for fun, really.

As a random side note, just assume that the characters have been speaking French the whole time while being at the Ball.

Enjoy~

XXX

"You're such a cute young thing, aren't you?" the woman said to Lili. From the way she regarded her that whole night, Lili felt she could confidently say that the woman was talking down to her in that particular instance-and she had no doubt that, no matter what she said next, she would continue to act towards her in this particular way.

"Mein bruder seems to think so," Lili replied politely. The woman standing beside her, a glass of wine in hand and her smile deprecating, surely a woman grown, Lili thought. She was around Lili's height, she estimated in her mind; but years older, with none of Lili's kid-like features. Where Lili's movements were quick and shy, this woman's were bold and sure. Her chin curved in towards her, pixie-like; her blonde hair was short and coiffed to her head. Lili didn't even have the presence of mind to even properly be jealous of her; she seemed too perfect.

"Your brother, you say?" the woman said, looking around lazily. "Did he escort you here tonight?"

"Nein-erm, non, he did not." Lili felt like an absolute fool next to this stranger. It made no sense-she had nothing to be nervous about! After that night, she would probably never get to see her ever again- "He just came back from the army-um-service has been hard for him-"

"I see. He seems like a very lovely brother, nonetheless."

"Oh, yes," Lili spluttered, wanting to desperately prove her and her family's worth. "He's nineteen yet he's the best soldier in his regiment. He's very hardworking, but can be very stern sometimes. But-but he's very kind to me. He braids my hair! . . . Well, more so when we were younger-"

"Enfant, slow your speech," drawled the Englishman across from her. He frowned. He had a bit of a sway to his step; Lili thought that he should watch his alcoholic intake before he became too drunk to stand.

"Oui, especially for those of us who aren't as fluent in français as others," muttered Francis, giving him a slightly lewd look.

The Englishman muttered something in his direction that Lili couldn't quite hear. She thought she heard something in English about Mr Bonnefoy being a frog, but she wasn't sure.

"Petite fille, you seem quite enamored of this brother of yours," said the woman beside her, and her very voice seemed to spike Lili's heart rate two times over. "What is his name?"

"His name is Vash," Lili said, looking down. Despite herself, she said, "I shall miss him when I go off to get married." She blushed slightly. "I am afraid I will hardly be able to know how to function."

"Now now, petite fille, try not to get overly infatuated with this Vash, hmm?" The Frenchwoman teased. "He IS your brother."

Cheeks aflame, Lili spluttered, "I-I do not think of him in that way!"

"Cheri, are you certain?" Her blue eyes glittered with something more devious than amusement then. The woman's full pink lips spread into an even wider smile when noticing the girl's unease. "I feared you would continue to sing praises of his military bravery-"

"Like some patient maiden waiting for her hero to propose to her at last," said the Englishman, mid-chortle.

"I was not-I did not mean it in that manner-!"

"Petite fille, we are simply advising you." The Frenchwoman rested her arm on Lili's shoulder like she meant some comfort by it. Lili didn't feel comforted at all. "Whatever love poems about Vash you may have stashed hidden beneath your bed-his countenance, the first thing you think of when you rise, and the last thing to keep you when you lay down—"

Lili looked at the woman in abstract horror.

She smirked. "Well. Just keep them to yourself."

The Englishman gave another loud guffaw. That's about when the tears became visible. They'd been threatening to spill for a while now, but it hadn't been until that moment. She didn't belong there, among nobles and duchesses and businessmen much older than she. No, she was being silly if she ever thought that she could ever be like them, act like them, speak like them-no, they were above her.

Mr Bonnefoy, especially. For he had led her into this trap, had surely wanted to see her fumble and trip during her first outing since her debut. Horrible man….

At seeing her tears the Frenchwoman broke into a smile. Cruel woman! Lili said to herself. Turning away quickly, she tried to find a place where she could get away and find composure all by herself; she couldn't get out of the conversation fast enough.

A hand locked her wrist in his own and kept her in place. Mr Bonnefoy looked down at her with sympathetic eyes. She felt as though she could drown in those wells of pity.

"Follow me," he said.

And for some reason that was beyond her comprehension, she did.

XXX

Vash said that she cried like nobody else-without restraint.

When she was younger other children called her a baby, but somehow, her brother always knew better.

"You feel like no one else allows themselves too," he said one time, kneeling in front of her and wiping at her tears. He looked stern as always, but his voice was gentle. "Never be ashamed of what you feel."

Lili sniffled then and wiped at her nose. "Why do they make fun of me, then? They call me weak, a fragile little girl…."

"They mock you because they're jealous." Vash gave the barest of smiles.

Lili gaped at that. "Jealous? Of me?"

"It takes real strength to be honest with one's emotions," he replied.

She looked down. "And I'm not weak, like they say? Because I cry?"

Vash pulled her into a hug. "Never."

Lili wished her brother were there more than ever; even replaying that scene in her mind from years ago, she could not find comfort. She wiped at her eyes, struggling to still her sobs-

Suddenly she was enveloped in the most magnificent embrace. Mr Bonnefoy was … holding her. It was imprudent in so many ways but she couldn't help but enjoy the embrace. When he detached himself she felt as though she were lacking.

"I'm sorry," he said at once. "I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay," replied Lili, looking away quickly.

Francis fidgeted. "Did it help, at least?"

She gave a quick nod. "I think it did. Thank you, monsieur."

She stood there, trying to string words together. Being outside with whom she considered to be the most attractive man in the ball, alone, on the balcony and at night, probably wasn't the most level-headed idea, she knew. But Francis looked so worried for her….

Francis gave a sheepish smile. It was quite the contrast from the daring looks she had seen him give in the hours previously; he seemed softer now, more cautious. "I'm afraid I walked us right into that one, cheri. Jeanne has the tendency to…."

"To what?" Lili asked solemnly. "To turn into an absolute witch?"

He stuttered. "I'm afraid she has a superiority complex, that one."

"She's so beautiful," muttered Lili. "and confident. But-who wouldn't act confident when you are so beautiful?"

"I've met many who still long to be pretty when it's obvious they're the most beautiful in the room," said Francis. "Women seem to have a problem seeing what's right before them."

"Men, too," Lili said softly. "People only see what they want to see, even if what they want causes them...strife."

His eyes smiled at her softly and Lili couldn't help but blush. She wondered if that should be some sort of condition, with the blushing. She was certain she'd never blushed so much in her life-!

"You're right," he said, and she felt like she was on top of the world.

"Th-that English gentleman, does he have a name?" Lili asked hesitantly. "You two seemed rather close…"

Francis laughed. "His name is Arthur, and he is a pain in my ass." He frowned then. "But, you know, he'd probably say the same about me…."

"I find it hard to believe that you could be a pain in anyone's ass," Lili said suddenly, surprising herself again at her own boldness.

"You don't know me," said Francis teasingly. He nudged her on the shoulder with his, and the girl probably stumbled more than she should have. "Though, he might have the worst of it. I don't generally like Englishmen ."

"One's origin is hardly a basis for hatred."

"Yes, but sometimes it is." Lili looked at him shocked, and Francis continued. "Come on! Sometimes I know if I were blind to his appearance or deaf to his accent effroyable, I would STILL dislike him. Haven't you ever felt that way?"

"I could never hate someone," replied Lili.

"Well. You should try it sometime. It's quite liberating."

Lili rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. Francis saw laughed, and she couldn't help but feel as though the sound was perhaps one that she could get used to.

"I think I could kiss you right now."

"I-I don't think you should," she said almost immediately. "I've never been kissed."

"Really?" Francis said, giving her a look that suggested familiarity. "I wouldn't have guessed it."

"Don't patronize me," Lili said lightly. "I wouldn't be a very good kisser."

"That's quite alright. There is always room for improvement."

Lili looked at him, unsure. "You really think so?"

"Sure," he replied. He stepped closer to her. "I mean, it's a fairly illuminating experience, in itself."

"I'm sure it is," said Lili, more than a little flustered. "But I-"

She turned around. The Ball was behind them, the doors to go back inside off to the side. They were alone, and Lili doubted that anyone would come wandering out anytime soon. Though it had been a few hours, the Ball still seemed in full swing; the entertainment for tonight sufficient enough for everyone.

Everyone-except her.

Why couldn't she convince herself to go back inside, back where everyone else was? Being there alone with Francis would do all sorts of damage to her reputation. …

...unless, nobody found her out.

"I mean…" Lili faltered, lost for words as she turned back to him. "I'm sure….a kiss from you would be lovely, Mr Bonnefoy."

Francis' face lit up, and his lips curved upward softly.

Lili had never been kissed before-and she had never imagined that her first would have such a hold on her as it did then. Francis was as adept in his craft as he looked, each movement eliciting a rise from her. A simple press of the lips turned into soft nips at her bottom lip; the hand at her hip, soon flattened itself quite nicely on her back. Despite his care, he was able to make his heart beat rise quite fast; matching him gesture to gesture became harder and harder until Lili was out of breath. When Francis broke away she found herself flush against the balcony ledge; opening her eyes, his lips were the first thing that she saw.

"...sorry," Francis said. "I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay," Lili said, despite herself. "I – I liked it."

They stood there for a time, trying to calm their breathing.

"I suppose we should be getting back," Francis said at last.

"I suppose we should," she said. "But-"

"But what?' the lord asked.

"I really don't want to."

XXX

Soft. The girl's lips were soft and pleasant and Francis thought it would be the same once he got between her thighs. She seemed like a soft one; stiff, certainly, but soft and wet and gentle, much like a baby lamb would, non?

All in all, Francis thought, virginal.

But Lili Zwingli was not one his usual targets, to be sure. When he had first seen her, he knew that gaining her trust and getting her to bed would be a challenge; such wide-eyed innocence such as hers wouldn't respond to any of his usual tactics. No; to her he would have to appear like a gentleman—a knight, even; the older host to her second outing since her debutante ball, willing to comfort her and guide her and tutor in all things love-related as possible.

Her social standing and the country of her origin seemed especially fortunate in this regard. For the girl was not rich enough to directly avoid his advances, but she was not poor enough to know what the full extent of his advances would be. She was perfect, absolutely delectable, good enough to eat, and he knew from the moment his lips had left hers that first time that he had made the right decision that night.

Because it was all a game, really— finding the perfect prey and encroaching on their best interests. Because it was never in their best interests to be taken to bed—because, really, what could be done against a pregnancy? And what happened if someone found out?— surely all hell would break lose. No, the trick was to be quick and subtle about it; being able to seduce them with barely a doubt lingering in their own mind. That way they wouldn't be back later with accusations of him using force on them later—that way, it would seem like they just couldn't help themselves, that it was their idea all along.

"It takes a special type of skill to be your type of evil," Madeleine had muttered one night. It was rather late, even later when Francis considered the fact that Maddie usually was in bed at that time. Francis had just exited the bedroom and was tying his second softest robe around him; his softest robe wrapped around the lady who lay behind closed doors behind him.

"What was that?" Francis said, a pinch of a smile at his lips.

Maddie turned to him, all coy smiles and hidden truth. Her violet eyes shown in the light of dimly-lit room around her; a magazine was in her lap. "The way you seduce them," Maddie elaborated. "You make them enjoy it."

"And why wouldn't they?" Francis asked. "This is me, after all."

Maddie smiled shyly and looked back to her magazine. "I know," she said cautiously. "But it's not like you give them what they really want, in the end."

"What they really want?"

"Love," replied Maddie. "Commitment. Fulfillment of a promise."

Francis gave a little half smile. "Mon cheri, if that's what they were after, they wouldn't be so eager to come to me, in the first place."

It had been an interesting encounter, Francis reflected. It was also interesting, he thought as well, that he chose just then to reflect upon that chance encounter with his dear cousin.

It wasn't as if he hadn't done it before! Seducing some poor unfortunate, almost ten years his senior, speaking in guileless tones, with ill intent hidden within. Still, he paused. It was sort of odd that he had; the two had made it inside, at least; up against the wall, the lord could feel her breath on his neck. The space around them was made all the more heated by their proximity; the pressure in the front of his trousers clear as day. Still, he hesitated—mid-descent on the girl's neck though he was, flush against her in the hall near the guest rooms though they were. He paused and considered the situation that he had put them in –her, in particular. For though she was like some of the others that he had been with—especially in the beginning—she was still rather young, wasn't she? And though he had been with the younger variety before—well. It had been a while since he had been someone's first, hadn't it?

And it was so odd how his little cousin could get into his head at the most inopportune times!

"Francis?" The girl peered up at him with wide, green eyes. Her face was flushed and muted in the almost-nonexistent light of the hallway; his doing, to be sure. It was akin to a miracle that he had made it this far with her—yet still, he hesitated.

"Yes?"

Lili seemed almost surprised that he seemed ready for conversation. Francis didn't doubt that he would continue to ravish the girl that he held in his arms at that moment—what he was experiencing, really, was a minor lapse in conscience.

That was all.

"I—I was just wondering," she said slowly, mulling over her words. "Will—will it hurt?"

She didn't say these words in the way that he'd expected. Lili was not a giddy individual in any shape or form. In the few hours that he had gotten to know Lili Zwingli, Francis concluded that the girl was both very thoughtful -and very, very much a virgin.

He smiled. He hoped it looked a lot warmer than he felt. Because then he felt as though he could devour her—one chomp, just like that, and send her spiraling into oblivion.

Too late now.

He kissed her softly, once on the nose, briefly on the lips. "I could just eat you up," he replied. They resumed kissing until Francis found the door that he'd wanted.

Quick and subtle, he thought, as they undressed. Quick and subtle, he thought as they made it to the bed. But again, he hesitated. Those green eyes regarded him with more trust that he certainly deserved. And he . . . suddenly didn't want to be quick about it. Not if this was her first time.

"I've got you," he told her then, claiming her with a kiss as he plunged into her. And Francis liked to believe that he did, as the girl held on to him for what seemed like for dear life; he liked to believe that, despite what her future prospects might be, that he would be giving her the best sex of her life.

Because it was the thought that counted, right?

XXX

A/N: As you can probably tell by now, I'm not going to italicize sort-of patent words that are in languages other than English? Like "mon cheri" (my dear) and "mein bruder" (my brother) and "enfant" (child). I realize that I used quite a lot of French the first chapter of this fic, however; At the beginning of the next chapter, I can post translations, if it is preferred.

Other words:

"Petite fille"-little girl

"accent effroyable"- horrible accent

Side note:

If there's anyone who wants to co-write this story with me, please, let me know. I would love to have someone to bounce ideas off of. I'm also a poor editor of my own work. So someone who could do a nice once-over of my work before I actually submitted it would be nice, as well.