Chapter 11 - The Cold of the Winter

It was two months later when the winter finally came over London and bathed it in a pure, pure white. When Zexion looked out of the window after the first snow he was amazed by how the dirty city looked so clean now; the myriads of little crystals reflected the little light that shone through the heavy blanket of clouds so the ground glowed in an eerie light, so bright it almost blinded his eyes. The entire house, thanks to its huge and high windows, was bathed in that light so he could be sure that Demyx would hole himself up in his room.

Before he had come to the vampire he had always seen the winter as something evil that killed the people and made their lives miserable, but now, with a decent fire in reach and a warm meal in his stomach, he learned the beauty of this season. Ms. Venable had brought a globe with her and had explained, with the help of a candle, the movement of the planet and why there are seasons. Like everything else she told him he absorbed it like a sponge. He had learned the alphabet within a month and now she gave him books to read which were orientated at adults. Even Artur told him that they could go into higher mathematics after Christmas. Master Demyx had told him that he wouldn't celebrate Christmas but another feast which fell on the same date and like all the years before, nobody would question the religion of the other.

Damp, exhausted and with a crimson face Zexion entered the kitchen through the door which lead to the garden from a snow fight with the other children and young adults from the neighbourhood. Young servants and the children of the rich people fought alike for the glory of victory. He held his dirty snow covered boots in his one hand and tried to free himself from the snake-like scarf that clung hot around his neck.

"Zexion, dear, please close the door!" called Madam Mireille and as Zexion turned around he was surprised to find Master Demyx sitting at the big wooden table which dominated the middle of the kitchen. He'd thought to not meet the tall Master until dawn, when the sun would've set.

With the sound of the door closing Demyx opened his eyes again and rubbed with his fingers over his lids to get rid of the painful prickle running through them.

"Zexion," he said, though his face seemed tired, "was the snow fight fun?" Zexion nodded and tried to wriggle his way out of his wet clothes to hung them next to the fire place. "Come here, we were currently talking about the party I'm holding tomorrow evening."

"Which party, Master Demyx?"

"Uh, it's a nasty thing. During the Christmas time," here he made a little face, "my business partners have the tradition to invite their partners to such Christmas parties. Everybody has to throw one and gladly I got to be the first in the row this year."

"And it will be the most wonderful party the Lords and Ladies will see this year!" Mireille said, not without giving Demyx a dirty look for him not even daring to think otherwise.

"Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you would like to work as a servant for my guests. Nothing big: hanging their coats into the wardrobe, offering drinks and collecting empty glasses."

Zexion nodded in reply before taking a sip from the drink Madam Mireille had placed in front of him: hot tea and honey, to warm him from the inside. He calculated in his head that it had been 10 days since their last meeting up in Demyx' saloon, so he would be awaited during the next two or three days. Perhaps even right after the party. Though he knew nothing about Demyx' partners he was excited about the thought of a big event taking place. There would be the best food and expensive wines and beer from what he heard Master Demyx and Mireille discussing.

But the tea and the exhaustion from the fight in the snow got the upper hand over his excitement and Demyx ordered him to go to bed as soon as his eye lids started to get heavy as stones.

As Zexion got up the next morning, Madam Mireille had knocked on his door as the world was still pitch black outside, he felt a nagging headache in the back of his skull. With swollen eyes and dishevelled hair he entered the kitchen just to be run over by a big boy with a mountain of pots in his arms.

"Zexion!" he heard Madam Mireille calling and was pulled back into a corner by a strong hand on his shirt. "My! Little plum! Don't stand in the way or you'll be run over again. And next time the person might carry the knifes."

"Who are all these people?" Zexion asked amazed by the number of persons fitting in the kitchen.

"Oh, paid workers who help me with the food and all. Here, take that roll and you better make your way out of here. Artur should await you in the office for your clothes for tonight."

As he crossed the entrance hall to get to the saloon he was nearly run over by people again. The saloon itself was in various states of decoration.

"Ah, there you are, Zexion. Please, come here into the light and the couturier will take your measures," Artur waved him to a little stool in front of the window and a well fed looking woman took out her tape and started to take the length of his arms.

"Ah, Master Coerdu la Quaorix, should I take your measurements as well when I'm finished with the boy?" Zexion looked up and saw a tired looking Demyx standing in the dark part of the saloon. The window where the stool stood was the only one which curtains remained open.

Demyx threw the couturier a charming smile from which he knew it would wrap her into his likings like one of her expensive cloths. "Ah, dear Miss, I fear I have enough of your excellent work already in my wardrobe, the choice is big enough." He threw Zexion a worried look. "Zexion, is everything all right with you? You look ghostly pale." His voice held that much concern that Zexion couldn't help but blush at it.

"I'm fine, Master. Just a headache." He mumbled to his feet, though his head was about to explode at the time. His upper back hurt like he'd hit it and a nauseous feeling found its way into his stomach.

"I think I've got the right thing for him!" exclaimed the little woman in front of him and pulled a dark blue piece of cloth out of her bag. "This colour will match perfectly with his eyes. Really, I've never seen eyes like this before!"

"I trust your sense for colour, my dear," Demyx said with a smirk, though his eyes were fixed on Zexion. "I have to overview the other processes. -To make sure Madam Mireille won't buy a swan of ice for the party."

"Knowing her she would scare a real swan to sit still for the whole evening." Artur commented dryly. Demyx threw him one last pained smile and vanished for the rest of the day.

It was late in the evening as the first guests arrived; the sun had set early this day and the whole house was filled up with an excited atmosphere. Though Demyx, who greeted the guests, seemed more annoyed than anything else and some gentleman, who were accompanied by fluttered Ladies, shared his bitter look. As predicted it was Zexion's duty to take the coats and scarves from the rich party and then to hang them into the wardrobe, which was actually a little room right next to the entrance door. Demyx always told him who would come in in the next second and in which business they worked together. Most of the men owned parts of the ships which sailed the Atlantic, just like Demyx himself, and most of them came in company of a, if not beautiful then garnished, women.

"You're sure you're feeling fine, Zexion?" Demyx threw him a suspicious glance. During the day when Zexion had helped to cut the flowers his facial colour had changed from a healthy looking pink to a ghostly white. His skin was nearly as white as Demyx', so no wonder the vampire worried about his little servant.

"I'm fine," was again the answer from the boy, who mumbled it to his feet, Demyx didn't remove his gaze from him, which was somewhat unnerving for Zexion.

"Oh, you have to be Zexion, my dear," the woman bent down to better see him as she accepted the glass of wine he had offered her,

"Yes my lady," he answered, though he didn't know where he'd seen that woman before.

"My husband had told me much about the new delivery boy from his partner Mr. Coerdu la Quaorix, and I just had to see if it's true that your eyes are really purple."

Zexion didn't know how to respond to that properly. "Yes, my lady, they are the eyes of my mother."

"Oh," she said before sipping her wine, " I bet she was beautiful! And? Do you like it here, Zexion?"

As kindly as her smile seemed this woman probably never suffered hunger before in her life, so Zexion was tempted to give her a n"always better than rotting on the street" as an answer. "Yes, my lady. Master Demyx's very kind to me." Her smile grew a little wider, though it didn't quite reach her eyes as she examined him from head to toe.

"But you look a little green, are you sure you're feeling all right?" At this point the headache behind his brow had turned into a glowing hot dagger sending waves of pain through his skull and the sweet scent of the salmon made his stomach twist in nauseous waves. But Madam Mireille had put so much effort in this party and Artur had told him how important it was for Master Demyx to please his partners and guests, so he would rather take a real dagger than ruin this. After all, anything is better than rotting in the street or working to death in a factory.

"Thank you very much for your concern, my lady, but I really feel fine."

"Well, then don't let me hold you up any longer. Go ahead, little servant" She watched him as he made his way through the crowd of well-dressed people to collect some empty glasses near the window. Lady Verona, mother of four boys though, walked in the opposite direction where the host held a little conversation with a judge from the eastern districts.

"Monsieur Demyx?" she asked with a charming smile. Said person's face, stern in a serious chat, split up in a glowing smile as he noticed her delicate figure.

"Lady Verona! What a pleasure! Here, I see you're equipped with enough to drink?" Judge Manson was obviously disappointed by the loss of his conversation partner and excused himself. As soon as he was out of sight Demyx sighed deeply and smiled apologetically to her.

"I'm sorry, Verona. If it wouldn't be for Mireille I don't know if I would survive the evening." Lady Verona and Demyx Coerdu la Quaorix had soon discovered that they both were some kind of outsiders to the society they moved in. Verona was an absolutely loyal wife, who tried to be a loving mother and a woman with social life and Demyx, who always was rather shy towards other people, even when he had to attend business with them.

She smiled genuinely and leant forward for some private sentences. "Do you know who's also not going to survive the evening, if you ask me?" Demyx eyed the party suspiciously, leaning his head down to her as if he could hear her better that way.

"No, who?"

"Your little servant boy, Zexion. A nice child if you ask me." His head snapped to face her. The sparkling amusement never left her face, though. "In this moment he's probably fighting the most nagging headaches in his young life."

"How can you know? I mean, he looked quite pale, but he told me he's all right..." He muttered, somewhat under his breath.

She threw him a scowl, "I can tell, as a mother of four boys, who all love playing in the snow, thank you very much. He probably caught a cold, you should send him to bed before he collapses." He nodded to her in thanks and made his way to Zexion, ignoring the polite tries to wrap him into conversation.

"Zexion?" The boy turned around to face the man and caught a glass with his sleeve. Again, Zexion couldn't make out the fast movement as Demyx caught the fragile thing, though this time it was probably thanks to his brain.

"Uh" was his eloquent answer. His head pounded and his skin felt like it would peel off at any minute.

"Come, we're going to go outside," came a blurred sound into his mind.

As soon as the white door to the saloon had closed behind them, the little boy struggled with his feet and stumbled right in Demyx's arms. Spasms shook him and the vampire was fast to snatch a vase to hold it under Zexion's mouth. If he would've had eaten anything today he would've vomited it right now, but now just bitter acid came out of the tormented boy.

"Demyx!" Mireille hissed as she closed the door behind her. "What's happening here? Oh my! Zexion! What's wrong with him?" she hurried to where Demyx had placed the shivering boy into his lap, holding him tight to protect him from hurting himself during his cramp.

"Verona said he caught a cold, but now I'm not so sure about it." Mireille knelt down and placed a hand on Zexion's forehead.

"Lady Verona? How could she know?"

"She said she knows it from her sons. She advised me to bring him outside before he could collapse in the saloon. I think we just made it in time." As he said this the tiny body spasmed again and tried to curl into a little ball. Demyx tightened his embrace.

"He has a fever. I don't think it's just a cold. The Thomas boy with whom he played yesterday has the flu. Here, I'll bring him to bed, you go back to the guests!"

"Don't be ridiculous Mireille, you can't even carry him!"

"But Demyx, the guests! This party is important, and you know it!"

He sighed deeply and looked deep into her eyes. "Mireille," he began gently, "I appreciate how much you care. But just allow me to take Zexion upstairs and I'll be back down straight after. Promise." Now it was Mireille's time to sigh.

"Right. Not that I can stop you. Go ahead." She got up and ordered her long skirts. Demyx lifted the now shivering child in his arms.

As he laid him down in his bed he placed his right hand over the hot and sticky forehead. It was as if the coolness was some kind of relief for the pained boy, as he sighed in exhaustion.

He knew he couldn't do anything for him, so he just sent him into a deep, deep slumber where he could, or so Demyx hoped, find some healing.

Yosh for a new update!

I have to dedicate it to my new beta-reader Emmyw, ho offered me her skills so kindly. Thanks again, dear ^^

This chapter appears to the right time of the year, even if I hadn't planned it to be uploaded around christmas. It was written during summer.

Anyway, I wish the all of you Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!