Author's note: Hello everyone! Thank you for your patience with me so far (: Here is a new chapter and also another wonderful fanart for this fic done by the amazing MM!
The artwork is for Chapter 15: the scene between Oscar and Girodelle. MM captured it so incredibly well, just as I imagined it! Please check out her work on Pixiv here:
en/artworks/108908556
For FFN readers, I can't put the link directly, so you can go to Pixiv and then in the URL, after en/ type artworks/ and then the number 108908556
Andre Grandier could no longer tell fact from fiction.
He gazed at the brown liquid swirling in the pot before him as he stirred it mechanically.
The bustle and hustle of the kitchen staff was dying down, leaving only him and the stable boy, who was eating his supper.
Andre was preparing the habitual hot chocolate for him and Oscar.
It was the seventh day since their mission began. Everything was going according to plan. They had raided several manors successfully, plunging Versailles into a panic and earning themselves a reputation for high-profile thievery, which rivaled the Black Knight himself. The latter, it would seem, had received the message. He had not shown up once since they began their mission. They had, of course, stolen his thunder and his carefully crafted identity along with it. But both Oscar and Andre knew that it was only a matter of time now before the anticipated encounter.
They were ready for it.
"What will you do when we see him?" Andre had asked her at the start of their mission.
"First, we need to make sure we capture him alive."
"And then? Will you turn him in?"
He had wanted to tell her what he really thought: that the actions of the Black Knight exemplified the people's feelings towards the nobility. That, in a way, this man represented the coming of a new era. Still, a thief was a thief. *
But Oscar surprised him. She had shaken her head slowly, "I don't know yet. Maybe. I just… wish to see him. I want to know if there is more to him than just a thief."
Was that the product of what she had heard at the chapel assembly the other night? Or could she be alluding to her suspicion that Andre was the thief and it was her intention to give him a second chance? Because if she thought he was the thief, of course she would not turn him in.
But then, he did not quite understand why she would continue to carry on with this mission if she suspected him. Why not just confront him once and for all? Why go through all of this trouble and actually commit theft? She could not possibly be cruel enough to frame him for this.
In fact, he sensed some trepidation on her part when it came to capturing this knight. As though a part of her did not really want to catch him. Usually, Oscar was hell-bent on completing her missions to excellence. But this time, something felt different.
It was thus plausible for him to think that she suspected him.
Furthermore, Andre had no other good explanation for the series of strange behaviours that his oldest friend was exhibiting towards him of late. It felt like someone was throwing him some bait here and there for the purpose of studying his reaction and uncovering something.
What bothered him more was that she wasn't even trying to hide it.
For the past week, she kept hammering him with pointed questions that were both out of context and entirely out of character for her…
"How are you feeling, Andre?"…
"Are you well enough?" …
"Are you sure you are up for this?" …
"What about this morning? Did you sleep well?" …
"I noticed you coughing during supper. Are you alright?" …
"What did Grandmere want with you?" …
"You haven't touched your pie. Why haven't you touched your pie?!" …
"You haven't finished your wine this evening, is everything alright? Is something bothering you? You know you can tell me anything, Andre" …
"What were you discussing with that maid?" …
"You didn't tell anyone about the mission, did you, Andre? You know, the maids talk" …
"Have you gone to see your friends recently?" …
And then there were questions that were of a personal nature about his childhood before Jarjayes, about his parents, about whether he had any 'hobbies'. Clearly, she was hinting at his nights out spent at the assembly.
Yet the strangest and mind-boggling of all was when she once so casually ventured to ask him about how many women he had been with! He had choked on his hot chocolate that night, which triggered a coughing fit for him that lasted the entire evening. But at least he managed to dodge having to answer her.
While at any other time, he would have welcomed this kind of intimate discourse with the woman he loved, he couldn't help but feel her questions intrusive and even offensive. After all, she wasn't asking them because she was genuinely interested in him. There were ulterior motives. Her manner lacked delicacy and tact.
She was even increasing her offence on the compliments-front, which Andre surmised was yet another tactic to distract him.
Unfortunately, her tactic seemed to work. For although he knew it was all probably a game to her, he certainly did not mind hearing her say how good he looked in his costume, or how she never noticed how lovely his eyes were, or how the mask really brought out the fine features of his face, or how she envied the natural strength of his body, or how she never told him this before, but she thought him skilled and talented with his hands, and that he was a kind and intelligent man. Of course, she said those things under a certain pretext; like when he donned the costume or she helped him put on the mask, or when he attended to horses or… stole some goods.
And certainly, these compliments served another purpose: she was most definitely profiling him, comparing him to the Black Knight in terms of appearance and skill, and she wanted to let him know it.
Oscar Francois de Jarjayes was not someone who gave compliments easily nor freely, if at all. He could grant her the effort she was putting into this whole act, but the fact was that it was too out of character for him to believe her genuine. Besides, anyone could tell that she was not skilled in the art of seduction and flirtation, her manner was awkward and calculated. Subtlety was certainly not her strongest suit.
The liquid he was tending to began to bubble. He stirred it one last time and removed it from the heat.
He chuckled to himself, prompting a strange look from the stable boy.
No, subtlety was not her strongest suit.
He recalled the strange incident that occurred on the third day of their mission. He had been scaling a building when a block crumbled beneath his foot and he slipped. He was sure he was going to either break something or split his head in that instant that he felt himself untethered.
But then somehow, Oscar manoeuvred the rope and he landed straight into her arms.
Like he was Rapunzel and she was Prince Charming.
"Don't worry," she had whispered, her face but an inch from his. "I will always catch you, Andre."
They had lingered there for quite a long minute. He had been beguiled by her, held tightly as he was in her arms, her chest touching his, enveloping him in the natural warmth of her body. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight and her lips were beckoning. "Ahem," he had finally cleared his throat, breaking the tension that settled in between them. "I should… we should… erm… get going."
"Yes, of course," she had said, recovering herself. He then ungracefully extricated himself from her before even giving her the chance to voluntarily release him.
"I will always catch you, Andre." It was as though she was trying to impart to him discretely that she suspected him of being the Black Knight and was trying to break him gently to confess.
Admittedly, there was a part of him that was beginning to enjoy this game. It was like an adult version of their childhood antics, only with added sensuality and a constant feeling of stomach butterflies. He was also thoroughly amused at her attempts. He did not tell her, of course, but she was definitely making a fool of herself. He remained curious to see where this theatrical charade will lead, particularly because she was terribly wrong in her assumption. In the meantime, he kept himself guarded as much as he could.
Two maids walked into the kitchen, steering Andre's attention away from his thoughts and into their conversation.
"Ugh! I can certainly relate. He has been in bad humor lately."
"The other day, he snapped at me for no reason whatsoever. I was only there. Dusting!"
"And the slamming doors! And did you see how rude he was to Madeleine when he saw her coming back from the stables? He practically interrogated her!"
"Poor thing, she came to my room crying."
She shook her head in disapproval. "Awful behaviour. I don't know why all the ladies are obsessed with Colonel Oscar. They obviously don't know him well."
"Well, he wasn't always like this."
"Still!"
"He is very attentive to Andre, though. Did you notice how-"
"Ahem, ahem!" Andre cleared his throat. "Excuse me ladies."
"Oh, Andre!" they exclaimed, startled. The pair parted ways to make way for the valet who was carrying two steaming cups on a tray.
Andre flashed them one of his charming smiles. "Don't stop on my account. Although do be careful that Grandmere doesn't hear you, or you won't wake up at Jarjayes tomorrow!"
With that, he left behind him two very blushing young women, who decided to change the topic of conversation from the cold and beautiful Lord Oscar to the charming and handsome Andre.
…
While Andre was amused by the gossip, he could not help but feel a pang of guilt. It was true that Oscar had been acting rather brash and abrupt towards the servants lately. Particularly the female staff. In the span of a week, she had made two maids cry and almost fired a third. She questioned them over silly things and any time she saw him talking to one, she would give her an icy stare and tell her to stop dawdling. She was becoming worse than Grandmere.
It was not something Andre liked to see in her either. Oscar was kind and never abused her rank nor spoke badly to anyone. She had her tempers and ill humors, certainly, but this was simply not becoming behaviour.
Although given the situation, he wanted to forgive her transgressions. After all, incessant and panicked inquiries kept trickling in from Versailles, demanding that Oscar expedite her search. While she shrugged them off carelessly, Andre could tell that they were encroaching on her nerves, causing her undue stress.
He should probably have a word with her about it, though, for the sake of the maids.
He opened the door to her rooms, forgetting to knock and stepped in unceremoniously:
"Oscar, I really must speak with you about th-…"
But then he stopped dead in his tracks as a horrific scene was unfolding before him.
…
It was the seventh day since Oscar began her formal courtship of Andre. And while formal might imply some sort of public declaration of one's intentions towards one's beloved, those of Oscar's were kept primarily to herself - and unfortunately for her – very much concealed from the very object of said courtship.
She paced frantically up and down her rooms.
"What is wrong with him?!" she kept muttering to herself. "Or is it me?"
But I followed Fersen's advice to the letter! I don't understand. I did not spare a flirtation, a compliment, ceased every opportunity to deepen our relationship and show my concern… Why isn't he getting it? Unless...
Oh God… unless…
Unless Andre really did not love her anymore. Her blood went cold as she reviewed the evidence.
She had done everything right. And yet, the closer she edged towards Andre, the more he seemed to withdraw away from her.
"Oscar… lest assured that a man in love does not simply 'forget' or 'stop'. And Andre is certainly not the type to be flighty."
She had taken much hope and courage from what Fersen had told her. But then why wasn't Andre responding to her?
She even made him sandwiches yesterday. She, herself! She had gone down to the kitchens and made them herself. But he almost choked on them, told her they were awful and then jokingly asked her if she was trying to poison him. This was the second time he had joked about her poisoning him! Did he have so little faith in her? Granted, she had accidentally used congealed chicken fat instead of the ham, and then added a dollop of jam instead of tomato conserve and used chicory instead of lettuce, but anyone could make these mistakes! Especially a novice like herself.
"It's the thought that counts, Andre, I'm not exactly a professional."
"Not by any measure, Oscar, and I am thinking that you need to be banished altogether from the kitchen altogether!" He had laughed heartily.
She pouted the entire way back. That was his reaction?!
Fine.
If none of her efforts had paid off so far, there was only one thing left to do. Fersen had prepared her for this eventuality.
Just in case.
It was now time.
For the grand gesture.
Resolved, Oscar searched around the room for a sharp object, until she found a pair of scissors that Grandmere had left in a sewing basket.
That should do it.
She flipped her hair to one side and brought the blade to it.
…
"NO! OSCAR!"
Eyes wild with panic, Andre quickly put down the tray of hot chocolate and rushed over to the blond Colonel.
"DON'T, OSCAR, STOP! YOUR HAIR!"
He practically leapt the length of the room, grabbed the scissors from her and knocked it to the floor.
"Andre!" she squealed in a high pitch, mirroring the sound of metal crashing onto the marbled floors. Andre's sudden presence and interference caused her to lose control over the blade and she almost cut herself.
He imprisoned her hands in his, staring at her wildly. They stood facing each other, catching their breath from the brief excitement.
"What the HELL were you doing?" he almost shouted at her.
"What did it look like I was doing?" she unwillingly extricated herself from him, lest she lost control once more. She rubbed her wrists. Damn it, Andre, you are strong.
"You almost made me slit my throat!" she lashed at him.
"Well.. what on Earth were you trying to do?!" he said, his voice thick with panic.
"Cut my hair, of course! What did you think?!"
"Why…" Andre was besides himself. He did not know what to think anymore.
He moved aimlessly around his axis, running the palm of his hand across his face, trying hard to make sense of it all, taking one deep breath after another.
But you have such beautiful hair… why would you ever…?
He was tired of running. Depleted from playing games. This was going to end right then and there.
He placed his hands into a prayer position and turned to face her.
"For the love of God, Oscar," he said, mustering every ounce of composure. "Would you mind telling me what, in God's name is going on here?"
Oscar met his gaze, a hint of mortification in her demeanour. She shifted her weight from one leg to another. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him, blushing excessively, like a child who was caught breaking a vase.
That was it. He found her out. Surely, Andre had suspected. Surely, he had seen all the signs.
And when he uttered in a hushed voice that sounded almost injured:
"Really, Oscar… I wish you would just come out with it already," she knew it was time for her to confess.
"Andre, I…" she began. She looked up at him, hoping he could sense the desperation in her voice. The struggle, the agony. I… I wanted to do it for you, Andre… I know it pained you to lose your hair. I wanted to cut mine in solidarity. So that you won't feel alone.
Alas, Andre was too impatient to grant her a moment to put her confession together coherently.
"Do you really think I don't know why you are doing all of this? Why you have been acting strange, flirting with me and showering me with unsolicited attention? Yes, don't think I did not notice!"
His tone was angry and agitated, his declaration stunned her into silence.
So, he knew all along and yet he showed no signs of reciprocation.
He shook his head vehemently, then he bitterly said. "Oscar, I thought I made my feelings very clear to you that night."
Oscar felt herself crushed under the weight of these words. She swallowed with difficulty, her heart was racing and she felt her chest swell and something burned in her stomach. She was nauseated. "Oscar… let's not…" he had said that night, "let's just forget about it."
"I thought…" he paused, and then, recollecting himself. "I thought we were becoming friends again… I thought it was all back to normal, but this… this is just too cruel."
Cruel?!
Her blood began to heat up. Cruel?! He was accusing her of being cruel?
"What're you…" she began, but he cut her off. He had bent down, retrieved the pair of scissors and shoved it in her hand. She took it limply.
"Here," he said resignedly. "Do what you will. Cut your hair, don't cut your hair. I don't give a damn."
"Andre!" she gasped in shock. Never had she realized that her attentions to him would become so utterly offensive to the point that he would become disgusted by her.
The tears burned at the corner of her eyes and a lump burned in her throat. "I never thought you to be so…unfeeling," she whispered, ashamed of herself for sounding like a woman. Like a lover who was being scorned.
"I'm unfeeling?!" he reproached.
"Yes!" she cried out unable to stop her tears. "You accuse me of being cruel, but then what are you?! I'll tell you what you are, Andre Grandier, you are a hypocrite!"
"Oh, well that is rich, coming from you!" he sniggered.
"What is that supposed to mean?!" she retorted, incredulous.
He shook his ahead. "Here," he said, reaching his hand towards his back and taking something out. Oscar's eyes widened in bewilderment when Andre placed the shining dagger onto the table between them. "I believe this belongs to you?"
So, he knew.
Everything.
A heavy silent descended on the room, engulfing them in a web of gross misunderstandings and irreparable wounds.
"Let this be our last day of the mission together. You can cut your hair and play the Black Knight yourself after this, just as you planned all along. I know you only wanted to cut your hair as a secondary precaution for when you discovered that I am indeed, NOT, the Black Knight. And hopefully, we will meet him soon so that I can prove it to you. I can't believe how little faith you have in me, after all these years."
The room was silent afterwards and Oscar felt frozen in time.
She did not know how much time she had spent like this, and was awakened jarringly as a window in her room suddenly crashed into a million pieces. A crow lay dead right on her floor. She placed a hand on her mouth to stifle a scream.
This was surely a bad omen.
Author's note: * This is lifted verbatim from the anime, except that in the anime, Andre actually says it out loud to Oscar.