Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.
The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.
~ Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland, Chapter 1
Chapter 5 - Down The Rabbit Hole
Master Wang fiddled absently with the cooking wok in his hands. He kept glancing towards the entrance, where some people filtered through, though he remained unnoticed, hidden behind the corner of the wall. " How many guests so far-aru?" he asked the short blond haired girl with a yellow band fixed on top of her hair next to him.
" Twenty. Maybe a little more," she replied, shifting nervously, her huge chest moving with her.
" I suppose it's better than what we could have hoped for," he shrugged, hoping to conceal his disappointment to the girl, who glanced worriedly at him. " Twenty guests for this time isn't bad-aru. As Monsieur Bonnefoy said before, whether we have one guest or a hundred, we will still continue with our schedule and - " He stopped as he spotted Matthew coming down the stairs.
" I'm ready for my duties," she announced.
He raised an eyebrow at her appearance and a small smile quirked about his face. " You combed your hair back-aru," Master Wang remarked in amusement.
She pouted unhappily. If it was her choice, she would have gone with her hair just the way it was. But unfortunately for her, she had run into Roderich, dressed in an aristocratic suit and looking quite regal, who had just came out from his room. He took one look at her tousled hair and disheveled cheeks before he then dragged her back into his room to be cleaned up. He clucked his tongue in disapproval as he made her sit and began bringing out a comb and a washcloth.
" This is not the appearance a young gentleman should display," he sternly scolded her, as he carefully went through her tangled curls, ignoring her yelps, tugging rather painfully at any stubborn knots and snags. Then, he thoroughly scrubbed and washed her cheeks, erasing any traces of sweat or dirt on her face, until her cheeks were sore and painted pink from the harsh cleansing that they were forced to undergo.
Now, her hair was pulled away from her face, revealing her luminous, violet eyes behind her glasses. The smudges were wiped clean and to their surprise, they could see that Matthew had smooth, fair skin all along underneath all the grime. Gone were the baggy, unfitting clothes that only illustrated the rugged, uncultivated street boy. She was dressed in a black vest over a crisp white shirt and black pants, making her appear very formal and gentleman-like indeed.
" Roderich did it for me," she muttered, itching to touch her hair, even just to fix it a little to regain her former, more tolerable look. But she knew that if she did, Roderich would have her head for even putting a single hair out of place. " I feel stupid," she mumbled. The cleanliness of the clothes made her feel uncomfortable as she fidget and squirmed restlessly. " Are these clothes suppose to feel this tight?" she complained, tugging at the vest.
" You look fine," the girl said, smiling kindly at Matthew. " And you'll get used to the clothes. Wash them a few times and they'll fit soon enough."
Pushing her discontent about her appearance aside for the moment, she smiled at the girl who she had seen a few times in the hallway but never spoken to before. " I don't think we've met before. I'm Matthew Williams." She offered a hand towards her.
" Please call me Katyusha," the girl introduced, taking her hand.
Just then, Monsieur appeared, dressed in a flamboyant blue and red, seemingly glowing with the excitement of the night. " Why are you all standing here? Our guests are waiting for - ahh, Matthieu! You look delightfully mignon!" he twittered, like a doting parent. She could almost see the heart shaped twinkles sparkling above his head as he beamed delightedly at her.
" Thank you, Monsieur Bonnefoy."
" Now about the catering system, a certain set of tables will be your responsibility," Monsieur Bonnefoy was saying, as he dragged her away from Katyusha and Master Wang and to the main diner area, where customers were already beginning to mingle and finding their ways to their seats. He pointed to a cluster of tables in the corner. " Right there. You shall serve those honorable guests and meet whatever demands they need, within reason, of course. You know where the kitchens are and just place the orders on the top counter where the chefs could see it."
She nodded. Her experiences from attending people from her previous jobs are to certainly pay off now.
" Don't hesitate to ask for help. Remember, it is only your first day," Monsieur Bonnefoy smiled, pushing her lightly towards the tables. " Now go on."
With a bit of confidence, Matthew went off towards her first customer. But before she could reach him, he already saw her and with stunned exasperation, he leaped to his feet, his chair falling with a clatter behind him.
" Jones, you bastard! What the hell are you doing here?!" he snarled, just as Adelio had done.
With a slight annoyance at being mistaken for this Mr Jones who she hadn't even met yet, Matthew raised her hands in peace. " I'm not this Mr Jones," she patiently explained. " I'm Matthew and I am simply your waiter for the evening."
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, squinting and inspecting her carefully, his bushy eyebrows fluttering with the movement. It took most of her power not to giggle at him. That really would not look professional. " How do I know you're really not Mr Jones?" he demanded.
She fought hard not to sigh. Was this Mr Jones really that unpleasant and appalling towards others? " I assure you, sir, that this is my first time meeting you and my first day working here," she quietly attested. " If you ask Monsieur Bonnefoy or anyone else at Le Château, I am confident that you will find that my words are true."
For some time, the man surveyed her, this time with interest and not skepticism. " Jones would not have referred me as 'sir'," he finally said. " And he certainly wouldn't have spoken politely to me as you had done. My apologies." He bowed remorsefully towards her. " Please forgive my irrational behavior. This Jones can be ... quite a troublesome fellow."
" So it would seem, as the few people I came across would also agree," Matthew wryly said.
He smiled. Now that he had calmed down, she could see that he was wearing a formal suit with a clean white shirt underneath, fixed with a necktie. His tone overall had reformed and was much more well-mannered and friendly. " What's your name again, lad?"
" Matthew Williams."
" Matthew, hm?" The man repeated her name carefully, as if testing the name on his tongue. Then, he smiled. " That's a nice name. It fits you well."
Taken back, she could feel a rise of heat in her cheeks. During her childhood, most people scoffed and teased her about her name. To hear that her name was made her soar in gratification. But then again, if the man had known that she was really a girl, perhaps he might not have had said the same thing. " Thank you, sir." She quickly cleared her throat. " Is there anything I can get you?"
" A cup of tea would be sufficient. And a plate of the roast beef with mashed potatoes and vegetables, served with gravy and with the treacle tart for dessert," he recited, without even looking at the menu, sounding almost bored.
She looked up at him from scribbling in the notepad, half amused. The man shrugged. " If you come here as often as I have, you would too," he pointed out smugly.
" I'll go get you your tea," Matthew said, finding that it was all she could say at the moment, before she left, heading towards to the kitchen, where she met with Katyusha again.
" I was wondering who is that man over there at table eleven?" she whispered, jerking her head slightly towards his direction, while pretending to clean her glasses.
Katyusha sneaked a peek towards him, casually reading the menu in front of her nose, before smiling in recognition. " Ahh, that's Mr Kirkland. He's a regular here. Comes almost everyday. Lucky that you got him. He's a real gentleman and he always tips the waitresses nicely."
" Though he was upset when he thought I was Mr Jones," Matthew remarked.
" Was he?" The corners of Katyusha's mouth curled slightly. " It's not a surprise. Mr Kirkland and Mr Jones do have a notorious history together."
Matthew probably would have asked who Mr Jones exactly was and what kind of history he shared with Mr Kirkland, if a pretty yet scowling girl appeared right next to her. " My брат requests your presence at his table," she announced, glaring poisonously at her.
" Of course," she said, a bit taken back at the hosility that the girl expressed towards her, wondering what she had done to incite such wrath and who or what a брат was. " I'll be there in a - "
" No." The girl's frown seemed to deepen. " My брат requests that you meet with him now." Just like that, she grabbed Matthew's wrist and began dragging her away.
Before she could even protest, Katyusha quickly shot her a pleading look. " It's all right. She won't do anything to you," she assured Matthew. Though the nervous look on her face didn't convince Matthew much. Seconds later, she found herself dropped into a chair in front of a very tall and intimidating man, dressed in thick, heavy coat and scarf, though the weather outside was mild and balmy.
" So this is the официант who was speaking to Sister," he remarked in a childish, innocent voice. Yet there was slight hidden tone of cruelty and malice underneath all the sweetness and innocence. He gazed at Matthew thoughtfully, with Natalia standing right behind her, a dark looming figure breathing down the back of her neck.
She frankly had no idea what a официант was and how that applied to her. All she knew was that she had spoken to his sister (she had no clue who that was) and was perhaps about to pay for it, seeing how he probably thought she was some guy trying to pick up his sister. " I - I'm sorry if I spoke to your sister," she politely said. " I didn't mean to offend you in any way."
" Oh?" He tilted his head curiously like a child. " I am not offended at all." He smiled at her and if she didn't know better, it reminded her of a snake about to eat its prey. " Just make sure that you don't talk to her ever again, Да?" he finished in a frightfully chilling and lethal voice, completed with his ever present smile.
Terrified to the point Matthew could barely breath, she nodded her head.
" Good." His voice returned back to its usual child-like state. " Here is the receipt." He took her hand in his gloved, unyielding hand, nearly swallowing her whole hand if he wanted to. He pressed the money into her palm and she feared if he squeezed her fingers any stronger, they might break. " Have a good evening, официант."
Unable to find her voice, Matthew bowed her head towards him again. She gripped his money with trembling fingers before she turned and somehow managed to coax her wobbly legs back towards the cash register.
" You look like you've seen a ghost," Mr Kirkland commented in concern, as she passed by his table.
Hurriedly wiping the cold sweat off her face, she managed to stretch a stiff smile. " Maybe I did," she half-heartedly joked.
He glanced back at the Russian man and the girl, both whom just got up and left, leaving a slight chill when they opened the doors. " Oh, him. No wonder," he snorted. " That's Mr Braginski and Miss Arlovskaya, his subordinate. There were rumors going around that he's a hit man, one of the top in the world," he said in a hushed whisper. " People on his list just vanish and those that get in his way also vanish."
She gulped. What on earth did she do to invoke his wrath?
" Like most people, you probably didn't do anything," Mr Kirkland shrugged. " It's been said that Mr Braginkski's not really in the right mind anyways. But you didn't hear that from me," he added, with a slight wink.
Feeling slightly better, this time Matthew smiled a real smile towards him. As Katyusha had said, Mr Kirkland was a gentleman.
Then, to her horror, she had forgotten completely about his tea. " I'll get your drink right away, sir!" she stammered, bowing and hurrying away, hastily brushing aside her musings without a further thought.
Still carrying Mr Braginski's money in her hand, she flitted past the tables towards the cash register. No sooner did she placed the money there, Katyusha found her, looking fraught with panic. " Matthew! Are you hurt?" she babbled frantically, waving her arms wildly. " They didn't do anything to you, did they?"
" No, of course not," she replied, trying to assure the waitress. " They just talked to me, that's all."
She thought it would be better if Katyusha didn't know about Mr Braginski's threat. After all, she looked so worried that Matthew knew that she would only become more distressed if she found out and Matthew couldn't bring herself to tell her.
" Thank goodness." Katyusha clutched her ample chest in relief. " I didn't expect that they would come after you. My brother can be too overprotective at times ..."
" Your brother?" The stunned realization hit Matthew hard. She stared, jaw dropping. " You mean, you're Mr Braginski's sister?"
" Да," she replied apologetically. Now that she thought about it, Katyusha's accent was almost the same as Mr Braginski and Miss Arlovskaya. " I'm afraid I wasn't able to escape entirely from home," she said with a bitter sigh.
Something about her tone made Matthew frown. " What do you mean - ?"
" Shouldn't you two be working?" Roderich interrupted their conversation, appearing behind them, looking severe and foreboding.
And both of them quickly scattered to their separate destinations, leaving Matthew's question hanging in the air.
~.~.~.~
" Elizabeta is sick?!"
" I'm afraid she had to retire for the evening," Roderich calmly announced.
" But she was fine earlier!" Monsieur Bonnefoy frantically wailed, wringing his hands. " She came down to serve some of the guest. I saw her!"
" She did complained of a headache before dinner. It appeared to have gotten worse afterwards," he offered as an explanation.
Monsieur Bonnefoy anxiously bit the skin underneath his nail. They had advertised Elizabeta's performance greatly for the past few days and throughout the night, he heard many customers eagerly awaiting to see it. With this dwindling crowd, he could not afford to change the performance out of fear that many customers would leave in protest.
Even if Elizabeta didn't perform, many of them enjoyed the song April in Paris and to not have it sung would be almost an insult to them. Bella would have been the next best choice to perform, since she knew the song like the back of her hand. But she was away for business purposes and could not be called back in time. And there was no one else who would know the lyrics to April in Paris well enough. Except -
" Matthieu!" he abruptly shouted, just as she had returned to the kitchen, balancing two trays of finished plates on each hand.
" Yes, Monsieur?" Matthew had barely just set the trays down, wiping her hands on her apron, before he ran towards her like a madman, skidding to a stop just in front of the alarmed Matthew and grabbed her shoulders.
" How comfortable are you with April in Paris?" Monsieur Bonnefoy breathlessly asked her.
" Not very much," she stammered, taken back by his frantic behavior. " I still can't follow the tune and I need more practice with - "
" But you do know the lyrics?" he interrupted, gazing at her intently.
" Well, yes, but - "
" And you know the beat of the song?"
" Yes, but as I said before - "
" Then, you'll be performing April in Paris tonight," he declared, slapping a hand to her back in what he believed was assurance.
Jaw dropping in disbelief, she stared at him incredulously. " Tonight?" she squeaked.
" Yes, tonight," he impatiently said. " We have no choice. Elizabeta had fallen ill and Bella is away. And no one else knows the song well enough to perform it."
The choking thought of her performing on stage left Matthew frozen with terror and fright. " I - I - I can't!" she stammered. " I will only make a fool of myself up there and - and to sing in front of all those people would be - "
" But Matthieu, you are the only one who could do it," Monsieur Bonnefoy cut in, gripping her shoulders again and staring intensely into her eyes. So close were they that she could see the faint spirals of violet hidden in his brilliantly blue orbs. Why do I suddenly feel so embarrassed? she thought in discomfort, her cheeks pink.
" And do not belittle yourself. I have confidence in you. However, we can't send you off looking like that," he mused to himself, glancing at Matthew.
Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, a smile brimming out of his face. " Come with me." With that said, Monsieur Bonnefoy snatched her wrist (Matthew was suspecting that this was something that everyone had adapted to when they wanted to drag her around like a ragged doll) and pulled her away from the kitchen and back into the hallway. Past the main diner, he brought her to one of the rooms near the practice rooms where she had glimpsed at Heracles' fight earlier.
" Feliks! Where are you?" he called out, barging right into the room without even bothering to knock.
A young man spun around from the mirror, his light blond hair swishing in the motion and his eyes narrowed in impatience. " What do you want?" he grumbled, pulling the pink barrettes from his hair, a bit embarrassed that he was caught.
" I have a new project for you," Monsieur Bonnefoy proclaimed, as he pushed Matthew towards him.
Almost immediately, his eyes went round like coins and a cheerful smile appeared on his face. " I see." He studied Matthew thoroughly, walking around her a few times, a lone finger tapping against his nose in concentration. " This should be like a piece of cake." He smirked. " And I think I have the perfect outfit for him."
Gulping and wondering what her fate would be with this stranger, Matthew could only stand and watch helplessly as he shoved her into one of the changing rooms and prepared to do whatever he was going to do to her.
~.~.~.~
" To my deepest regret, Miss Elizabeta will not be able to perform tonight due to illness," Monsieur Bonnefoy announced to the crowd, pausing briefly as they booed and hollered angrily.
He coughed and waited until the ruckus died down. " However," he continued. " We will have our newest singer perform in place of Elizabeta, also singing April in Paris. Please give it up for the lovely Matthieu!"
Some still scowled and expressed their annoyance rather vocally, crossing their arms and stubbornly insisting that this Matthew, who he was, would be jeered until he was off the stage and Elizabeta (or some other girl) would come. They had waited long enough and to be disappointed like this was simply unacceptable in their standards. A few already began leaving their seats in protest.
Monsieur Bonnefoy continued cheerfully smiling, though he frequently shot impatient, irritated glances at the left side of the stage where Matthew was suppose to be entering from. What was taking the boy so long? Feliks had already declared Matthew fit for the performance, though Monsieur Bonnefoy had yet to see Matthew himself.
He cleared his throat. " Presenting Matthieu!" he announced again, a little more louder. Seconds lengthened and still no one appeared on stage. Growing fiercely exasperated, he had half a mind to head to the back of the stage to drag Matthew out into the open himself, just as a scramble of hissing voices argued audibly behind the curtain.
" I'm not going out like this. I look like an idiot!"
" Don't be silly. You look like totally fabulous. Now get out there."
" W-wait! I - "
With a grunt, Feliks managed to push Matthew onto the stage, who nearly stumbled over and grabbed herself just in time before she fell over, trembling as she stood shakily in the uncomfortable high heels she was made to wear. Blushing red and glaring at Feliks, who remained hidden by the curtains and putting up an encouraging thumbs up in her direction, all she could do was turn and face the audience.
She had been forced to a long, brilliant red dress that flowed evenly down her waist and ending at the edge of her ankles. To her embarrassment, her back was revealed, ending at her waist, causing her to shiver, as she didn't have sleeves either for protection against the cold. To her greater embarrassment, the neckline of the dress was much lower than she would have liked, unveiling a shadow of her cleavage after she was much obliged to secretly unravel the cloth binding her chest flat. Her hair was further tormented, her previously minimal curls transformed into complicated waves to her neck. Under the thick layers of makeup, her eyelashes were heavy and dipped in black, for the sole purpose of defining the mysterious amethyst of her eyes ("Take off those glasses! You'll look better without them!"). White powder clung to her cheeks with a demanding oppression and she could barely breath through the massive amounts of red lipstick applied to her lips.
But then again, if Matthew was given the time to look in a mirror, she would have realized that she looked quite pretty. And the audience certainly agreed.
Some of the men who had earlier complained immediately began to whistle and hoot, grinning that at last Le Château had a new performer. A lovely female one at that too. Others, like Mr Kirkland, who recognized Matthew who had served them earlier, promptly choked on their drinks, baffled and stunned as they tried to comprehend how the polite, young waiter suddenly became very pretty and whether if he was into cross-dressing or if "he" was a girl in the first place.
Even Monsieur Bonnefoy who had thought of Matthew as 'cute' when he first laid eyes on him was rather speechless at Matthew's unexpected transformation. It appears that the little duckling became a swan, he mused to himself. He couldn't resist trailing his eyes towards the slender, well-refined figure and absently tried not to feel too guilty about it.
Wondering why the guests were suddenly making a racket, Adelio peered from the entrance, only to see Matthew, and his jaw comically slacked in disbelief. He stood there, dumbfounded for a few minutes before shaking his head, rubbing his eyes and giving himself a couple slaps to the face to clear himself. It was impossible and unthinkable that - no, even as he gazed at the "girl" on stage, it was evident that it was clearly Matthew and not a trick to his eyes. A rush of heat flooded into his cheeks and he wondered why on earth was he feeling flustered all of a sudden.
Back on stage, Matthew froze on the spot, completely terrified out of her wits from the lights and appearing on stage for the first time in her life, swinging her head back and forth from the calm Roderich who had already made his way to the piano, to Monsieur Bonnefoy who appeared to be dazed, to the audience who cheered her on with a helpless look on her face, forgetting what she should be doing in the first place.
Perhaps the only one who might not be overly taken by Matthew, Roderich cleared his throat from his placement in front of the piano, shooting her a calm-down-you're-making-a-scene look. " Sit down," he impatiently said, indicating to the spot next to him. She quickly obeyed, hurrying over to sit beside him, turning even redder at the light chuckles that came from the audience.
She never felt more foolish in her life, growing redder by the minute and gripping the microphone so hard that it shook. In another situation, she might have appreciated how the dress fit snugly around her curves and how fashionable it was for girls like her to wear.
" Just relax," Roderich murmured in her ear, nearly giving her a heart attack at how close he was to her exposed back. Somehow, sitting next to him now seemed a hundred times worse than it did at practice.
Then, Roderich began to play and she slowly forgot about her dilemma. There was no audience. There was no fact that she was pretending to be a boy in a girl's clothing or the fact she was searching for her brother.
It was just her and the music and the song.
" Till April in Paris. Chestnuts in blossom. Holidays tables under the trees. April in Paris. This is a feeling. That no one can reprise ... Till April in Paris. Whom can I run to? What have you done to my heart?"
She ended the refrain, soft and slow, trying to sing it as Elizabeta had done. Opening the eyes she was not aware she had closed in the first place, Matthew was stunned to see that the audience cheered and applauded her with enthusiasm. From where she was, she could see that even Mr Kirkland was politely clapping.
A warmth of delight spread from her head to her toes. Even if the world came crashing down around her at that very instance, not even that could stop the wide, exuberant smile on her face.
Roderich was already standing before her, offering a hand. " You did good," he said with a slight smile.
Blushing a deeper red, she never realized how nice Roderich could look if he smiled a little more often. She took his hand and together, they walked off the stage. With a quick glance, Matthew stole a peek at the crowd, who were now beginning to leave Le Château for the night and chattering excitedly about her performance. Her performance.
" Tu as été superbe!" Monsieur Bonnefoy squealed, immediately enveloping his arms around her as soon as she made it to the curtains, swinging her around in joyful euphoria. " With some practice, you will be an excellent singer in no time!"
She turned red as his arms wrapped around a little too close to her now revealed chest. " You really think so?" she shyly asked, as she subtly slipped out of his grip.
" Of course, mon chéri. And I have never been wrong about my predictions." He beamed happily at her, not realizing that he no longer held Matthew. " But why didn't you tell me that you could sing also?"
" Because I've never done it before," she truthfully said.
" Now, you're being modest," Monsieur Bonnefoy smiled, patting her affectionately on the head.
She blinked, not quite understanding why he had offered such a gesture for her. Over the years, she had received slaps across her cheeks to curb her stubborn defiance. Knuckles had bruised her head, digging against her skull, to make her shut her stuttering mouth. Her ears often had became reddened from being yanked and twisted for her disobedience and clumsiness.
The only person who had treated her with such gentleness was her brother. One of the most memorable time was when she had brought home a picture of her and him that she had cobbled together in school with splashes of blue, red, pink and yellow, messily over the white sheet. She had pointed out their house, the nonexistant trees and playground beside them and the zigzags of clouds above them.
And right in the center of her masterpiece was her and her brother. Not even their mother and father were drawn, as for Matthew, the roles of her mother and father belonged solely to her brother alone. They were holding hands, smiling wide lopsided smiles, so happy and inseparable.
Unlike the harsh reality that they now faced.
" I love you, Mattie," was what he told her, as he graciously accepted her picture and pinned it up in their room next to the mirror on top of the drawer, so when he woke up, he could see it every morning.
No one else except her brother had ever made her feel so cherished and happy. Could that possibly suggest that Monsieur Bonnefoy was trying to mean the same thing as her brother?
" Bonnefoy! Some guests are requesting an audience with you-aru." Master Wang interrupted her thoughts, as he came out of the kitchen.
His eyes twinkled with something that Matthew couldn't identify. " Master Wang, tell our guests that I will meet with them shortly. Matthieu, I think you deserve to retire early for the night. Rest up because tomorrow will be another busy day," he told her with another smile.
He left her feeling very confused and wondering why she suddenly thought of her brother in the first place.
~.~.~.~
Author's Notes:
Mignon (French) - Cute
брат (Russian) - Brother
официант (Russian) - Waiter
Да (Russian) - Yes
Tu as été superbe (French) - You were superb
The reason why I chose "Down The Rabbit Hole", inspired by Alice In Wonderland, for the chapter title is because this chapter is what really initiates Matthew's journey. Not to mention this was her first performance and the first time she was forced to wear a dress and had to "pretend" to be a girl.
Despite Canada and Ukraine never met in the official comics, in real life they share a close and productive relationship with each other. Canada has the third largest Ukrainian population after Russia and Ukraine itself.
England's dinner is known as the "Sunday Roast", the most typical English cooking.
And Ivan is very protective over his sister, to the point that any guy even talking to her, feels like a threat to him. Poor Matthew.
Also, after meeting a few of the characters, notice how Matthew is the only one who is given a full name, in which Williams may or may not be her last name.
Edited: I decided to change Russia, Belarus, Cuba and Belgium's names mostly for the sole purpose of drama. Mr Braginski makes him sound a lot more mysterious and dangerous than just "Ivan". And after thinking for some time, Belgium's name didn't really stick, so I changed it to "Bella", which means beautiful. And Cuba, well, it wasn't fair he should get left out. And I liked the name Adelio, which is a Cuban name for what I gathered from Google.