A/N: Hey there, hey there, you, hey there. How are you doing? What is up? Chowder...

"staring at the door that had just banged Oprah." Best spellcheck moment ever.

I am so freaking sorry about the wait, but I had to deal with relatives and couldn't access the internet. I also had to pack everything I own, because my mom and dad are moving withing two weeks of each other. But I got an iPhone from my mom, and I can work on new chapters while I'm at my dad's! I also had my birthday on December 23rd, the worst possible birthday in existence. Yay! I got to be in a play for Drama Club, and I was asked to beta a one-shot. Knowing my ability to prioritize, I should be done in the next year or so.

Thank you to Sora Resi, sunheart of rushclan, MssCassandra, and that lovely anonymous guest for reviews. You made my day!

The winner of the one-shot is MssCassandra! You go, MssCassandra! I'll have it up soon. I hope you like Franada and the Grimm Brothers' Tales.

I dedicate this chapter to a friend of a friend, who took his own life recently. May he live in our hearts, now and forever.

Chapter Four

Antonio watched the young man in front of him yelling in Italian, not even bothering to try to translate it in his mind. Soft looking brown hair was swept away from the servant's forehead, one stubborn curl sticking up despite the sweat that kept the rest of it at bay.

But that face! Red with anger, hazel eyes wide with rage. It was so incredibly, so entirely, so very, very,

"Cute."

The curses and insults stopped, the vermilion fading into a brilliant, livid white. "What did you say bastard?" The voice was calm, controlled. As though he really wasn't sure what the mysterious Spaniard had said.

"I said you're cute." Antonio began to smile, a carefree display of contentment. "You look like a tomate."

Have you ever heard of the still before the storm? Right before the rain and lightening begin, the air just stops, almost like the Earth is taking a breath before all hell breaks loose.

Lovino's still lasted for a few moments of utter silence, but that time was long enough for Toris to come and check on him, read the atmosphere of the room, and immediately move to restrain his arms before said arms started to swing at their visitor.

Toris whispered quickly into his ear, warnings of why his temper must be controlled, how important the man he wanted to physically strangle was. Eventually, Lovino submitted to reason, turning and stomping to go sulk over his wounded pride.

Antonio watched with slight concern as this went down, wondering why this little tomato was so upset.

"Is he alright?" Antonio asked the rumpled butler.

"Hm? Oh, yes. He just needs a moment. Lovino probably just got upset about something." Toris brushed the thought aside. "Where are my manners? Welcome to the Jones estate, Mr. Carriedo. Mr. Jones is in his study, if you'll allow me to show you there."

Lovino... Lovino... Lovino... Antonio rolled the name over his tongue repeatedly in wonder of it as he followed Toris upstairs, his hand running over the stinging red spot on his cheek where he had been slapped.

When they arrived at oak double doors, Toris rapped on it with his knuckles. There was no reply.

Toris knocked again, brow furrowing. "Sir?"

Alfred peeked his head into the kitchen, making sure the coast was clear before he opened the back door and stepped in.

The pantry was unlocked, luckily, and Alfred grabbed some food, just an apple and a loaf of bread, before closing the pantry and returning to the stable.

He opened the stall Arthur was in, finding the still shirtless Redcoat waiting.

Realizing Arthur couldn't eat in his current condition, he (begrudgingly) untied the bonds on his wrists and settled himself against the stall door.

Arthur ate it quickly, having gone well over a day since eating last, and when he was done, had his hands retied.

Alfred turned to leave, and Arthur couldn't stop himself from speaking.

"Alfred?" The Colonist stopped, but didn't turn around. Arthur tried not to let his voice waver. "Thank you."

Alfred left the stable, and Arthur was once again alone.

He sighed at the pattern that his life seemed to revolve around.

He regarded the military coat that was keeping him warm, remembering how he had come by it.

He had always been his mother's favorite, something his older brothers detested him for. When Peter was born, he thought it would be different, he being an older brother, one to join in on the cruel teasing. But instead, he now had another boy in the house that plotted against him. Even worse, Peter was Mum's new favorite because of Arthur's dislike of the younger boy.

When Arthur was ten, his oldest brother, Allistor, had reached the required age and enlisted in the army, earning himself greatness.

The next year, Seamus reached the required age, closely following his brother in rank with his incredible skill for strategic planning.

Three years after that, Dylan turned 16, but didn't go into the army. He joined another military branch instead, becoming the youngest commander in the navy.

Their father died just after his third son left. Naturally, it had fallen to Arthur to take care of his newly widowed mother, who insisted she was fine when her three oldest returned home for the funeral, as well as Allistor's wedding to a young Irishwoman. Who also hated Arthur.

Peter joined the army the second he could, sending his meager earnings home to his mother. This left Arthur alone with his mother.

He was regarded as lazy, 24 and living with his mother while his brothers became heroes.

When he heard of the rebellion starting to succeed, he took it as a sign. So he left his mother, joined the army, and got shot on the battle field a month after arriving in the colonies.

Thus was the misfortune of Arthur Kirkland's life.

Madaline tried to keep her focus on the garden, avoiding her own thoughts. She had had a wondrous night, head filled with thoughts of the Frenchman that had set her heart pounding so.

Elizabeta noticed her vacancy, the way violet eyes ghosted over the flowers and trees without actually seeing.

"Something on your mind, miss?" The maid asked. But Elizabeta knew the answer to the question. The way Madeline kept twisting her fingers into the fabric of her dress skirt, the way she flushed light pink at the question.

Madeline took a deep breath, clasping her hands together in front of her, focusing on the wedding ring that adorned her left ring finger. "It's nothing. Just a silly thought."

Elizabeta nodded, but knew.

Madeline was in love.

"Fratello, I don't understand. What happened?" Feliciano asked as he and Lovino prepared lunch, the elder brother kneading the bread dough with far more force than necessary. Feli was happy he hadn't asked him to chop vegetables, as knives are rather hazardous in the hands of the enraged.

So far, all he had been able to understand was some rather creative cursing and some rude things about the Spanish that an author would rather not put in a story, as that would be horribly unkind to say.

Lovino spun around angrily, blush consuming his cheeks. "Damn it, Feli!" He yelled. "Why can't you just mind your own damn business?"

Feli cowered against the counter, releasing the knife in his hand. Seeing this, his brother ran his flour-coated hands across his temples, sighing as he did so. "I'm sorry, Feli. I just had something happen earlier, and I shouldn't take it out on you."

The effect was immediate, the younger Italian perking up with a smile. Lovino rolled his eyes, but managed to produce a small smile for his brother.

They both returned to their work, albeit a bit more gently than before.

"Fratello?" Feli asked cautiously.

Lovino sighed loudly. "What, Feli?"

"Why do you hate the Spanish so much?"

Lovino's eyes widened in shock, but tried to stay calm. "Wha-what do you mean?"

"You were saying something mean things about them." Realization washed over Feliciano, his face lighting up with glee. "Oh! Did you meet someone new today? Someone Spanish?"

Lovino grit his teeth at his brother's enthusiasm. "Just that merchant that we were supposed to prepare for. The one who arrived a week before he was supposed to be here." He slammed the dough heavily onto the wooden table, producing a loud thump!

"Do you like him?" Feliciano asked, voice innocent.

"No! He's an idiot, way too damn happy for his own good, and he seems to be obsessed with pomodori!"

"He sounds like you."

Lovino could only stare in wonder, finally finding his voice and whispering a "What?"

Feli's smile only broadened. "You like tomatoes too!" He played back the last bit of the conversation in his head, quickly finding the reason for his brother's gobsmackery. "Oh no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that you were an idiot or that you were too happy, because really you're not very happy at all. But I'm not saying that you're mean, but sometimes you can get a little upset, like right no-" But Feli was cut off, both brothers staring at the door to the dining room that had just banged open.

An agitated Toris entered, the marks of anxiety all too clear on his usually calm face. "Have either of you two seen Master Jones?" He demanded of them in an almost pleading manner.

They both shook their heads 'no', causing the head of staff to bite his lower lip.

"I honestly don't know where else to look. I've managed to leave Mr. Carriedo in the parlor, but I can feel his growing impatience. We just need some way to distract him, perhaps make it up to him a bit." Scanning the room, green eyes lit up when they stopped on Lovino. "I have an idea."

Understanding his meaning, the Italian stood up straghter from his slouched position with protest written across his features. "No. No, no no, a million times no."

"Please, Lovino?" Toris pleaded. "You don't have many permenant duties right now, I'll even have the animals taken care of. And I'll see about a pay raise for you."

Raising one eyebrow, Lovino thought over the offer. He would get out of feeding pigs and milking the cow, plus whatever pointless chores he could be assigned. And they did need the money...

Gritting his teeth, he spat out a sour "Fine."

Toris let out a sigh of relief. He knew it would be easy to keep his end of the bargain.

For although the master was the head of the house, you could expect his butler to be the brain; hidden, all-knowing, and really making the decisions.

Translations:

tomate- tomato

pomodori- tomatoes

A/N: A look into Arthur's life, hmm. Wasn't sure about posting that so soon, but it helped set the writer's block on theoretical fire. And fire is fun, kids! And what of Toris' plot, hmm? Tune in next week, because the writer's block is dead!

By the way, that part about fire was a joke. Be safe around fire, and do not set them. No matter how much that horrible girl at school who tripped you is asking for it.

A one-shot gift for the 20th reviewer. I should really stop promising people things, because it is a quite direct pain in the arse. But I've managed to write a few whilst in my writer's-coma. I'll save those for later...