We're back in business! I hope you enjoy this chapter!
...
Louise and Henrietta take the time to bond and catch up. Then, feeling she can rely on Louise, the princess asks a favour of the pinkette. Tabitha searches Tristania's royal library for a tome capable of severing hers and Michael's connection, meanwhile.
Then there's Michael. Walking the palace gardens, he grapples with the reality of Louise's engagement to Wardes.
Tristania - Part II - Resolution
With Michael having departed the throne room, Louise breathes a small sigh of relief.
Henrietta, who has since returned to her throne and sat back down, wears a look of concern upon her face.
"Tell me, my dearest Louise, how are things between yourself and Michael?"
Louise, startled by the sudden question and how she might respond, averts her gaze.
"They are... somewhat complicated at present, I'm afraid," the pinkette answers, her cheeks reddening a touch amid the admission to her childhood friend. "I told him, you see, about my engagement to Viscount Wardes..."
Henrietta's eyes widen a touch, her eyebrows rising ever so slightly.
"You did? When?"
"Before our meeting with you a few short hours ago, while we rested in our chambers," Louise reveals in a dour, somewhat muted tone. "He took it well, but..."
Louise falls silent and trails off.
"But?" Henrietta inquires.
Louise hesitates to speak, then swallows, and says, "I do not think he understands the gravity of my situation, in truth, not being of our world and all..."
"How so?" Henrietta asks, leaning forward a little on her throne and resting her chin atop the palm of her left hand. "Please, Louise, lay your burdens upon me."
The petite noblewoman raises a brow.
"Are you sure, Princess? It isn't my desire to place my issues upon you when you already have so many of your own."
"I am sure, my dear Louise," the young queen-in-waiting answers. "I would not have said so otherwise. Now, please, tell me."
Louise's eyes drop once more to the marble floor.
"I told him of my arranged marriage to Viscount Wardes… and that I brought one of the academy's maids, Siesta, into my service for his benefit," Louise begins, her eyes occasionally glancing toward Henrietta for a moment before casting downwards once more.
"I told him as much," Louise goes on, "so the weight no longer bore down on my shoulders alone... I told him because I did not want to burden the ones around me..."
Henrietta's heart visibly wrenches, and she reaches out to clasp Louise's nearest hand gently with both of hers.
Louise shudders at her best friend's touch, a tiny whimper passing between her quivering lips.
"Dear, sweet Louise...," Henrietta begins, stroking one of Louise's hands with her thumb. "You are a kind, selfless, compassionate girl, despite your sharpened edge."
Louise, ashamed of the reality before her, raises a brow in surprise and regards her childhood friend with glassy, pained eyes.
"I-I don't deserve such praise, Henrietta... Not when I should have revealed the truth of my intentions sooner, before... things between us progressed to this point."
Henrietta regards Louise with sympathy, her blue eyes glistening with a shimmer of compassion.
"Perhaps," she concedes, "but tell me though, Louise, would you have been strong enough then to come clean about such a situation?"
A cold sweat overtakes Louise as guilt eats at her insides.
"No," she says shaking her head. "I would not."
"Indeed," Henrietta agrees, giving her friend's hand a reassuring squeeze.
Louise groans, looking down again as if consumed by something monstrous, hating herself with a bitter flame.
"To make matters worse, he has agreed to remain by my side for the time being, saying he isn't going anywhere," Louise says, grimacing and letting out a pained exhale. "Even though I expressed how futile doing so would be should my parents enforce the engagement."
Henrietta hums warmly upon hearing this, her frown curving upwards into a faint smile that is filled with reassurance, comfort, and support.
"Because he cherishes you, Louise Françoise," she declares, "and would have you regardless of circumstance."
"But... why?" Louise protests. "Why are you and that stubborn, lovable idiot the only ones who fight for me when the rest of the world views me as a failure...?"
"Does the wind stop when a person demands it to?" Henrietta asks, a coy glint catching in her bright blue eyes. "Does the rain change its course because it offends those listening?"
"No," Louise replies, bowing her head in dejection.
"Precisely." Henrietta nods and smiles. "You are my dearest friend, Louise de La Valliere. You possess the biggest, purest heart out of anyone I've ever known, and I wish nothing more for you than for you to believe and acknowledge that."
Her cheeks flaring a deep, dark red, Louise lets out a surprised, high-pitched whine.
"I... I'm sorry."
She closes her eyes, swallows hard, and leans forward with deference.
"You are a far greater friend than I feel I've ever been to you, Princess Henrietta."
The two embrace in a tender hug, Henrietta whispering to her and nuzzling her chin against Louise's shoulder.
"Nonsense, Louise."
Their arms interlocked, each holding one another with intimacy, the two pull apart until only their hands are touching.
"Come, Louise, take a seat on the steps beside me," Henrietta requests with a gentle laugh. "You look so distant, standing below me like this."
Louise agrees, bows before her friend, and ascends the dais to join her.
Upon placing her hand upon the backrest of the gilded wooden chair to her left Henrietta looks about, her expression falling the slightest touch in a moment's time.
"I only wish I could spend time with Wales as you do Michael," she murmurs in melancholy, allowing a girlish sigh to pass between her plump lips.
Louise smiles thinly and lowers herself onto the left step, turning sideways so she can see Henrietta more comfortably, without straining her neck.
"...The conflict between Albion's Royalists and Nationalists, you mean," she utters in realization. "Father mentioned it in brief to my sisters and me before I returned for this year's studies."
Henrietta, giving a slow nod of acknowledgment in return, replies, "Indeed."
Crestfallen, her large, puppy-like eyes losing their everlasting warmth, the princess sighs sadly to her friend.
"The final royalist stronghold in Newcastle remains surrounded, and King Henri ordered my beloved Wales into hiding, I was told," she confesses. "In the hope that he will survive."
Saddened, Louise reaches out and takes one of Henrietta's hands into both of hers.
"Then there is still hope, yes?" she asks. "He could still yet live."
Henrietta hesitates a moment before glancing Louise's way, and responds, "It is a fact that only the Goddess knows, I fear... Still, I yet choose to hold out hope for him."
"As you should, Henrietta..."
Finding it in her heart to smile, Louise's childhood friend hums once and adjusts her position.
"Which is all the more reason you should treasure Michael while you can, Louise," she asserts, cracking something of a small, sly smile. "And why I chose to gift him the royal emblem as I did earlier."
Louise's eyes widen as her posture straightens.
"F-For me...?" she whispers. "You... did that for me? I thought it a reward for Michael..."
"It was for you as much as he, Louise," Henrietta returns, her smile gaining something of a naughty, mischievous touch. "As you and I both know, a commoner must first be recognized for their deeds before beginning down the road toward nobility."
Louise stares at her friend, surprise and astonishment rising rapidly through her body.
"Henrietta, you aren't serious...?"
Henrietta gives a girly giggle and extends both her hands, taking each of Louise's in hers and holding them.
"The two of you deserve a chance, Louise," the queen-in-waiting says matter-of-factly. "To prove to your family, and everyone else in Tristain, that you should be together."
Again, Louise is stricken with emotion, a little too distraught for words.
"All I have done is provide a means for your treasured familiar to advance," Henrietta goes on, leaning back in her chair. "Whatever he should do from here will be his choice alone."
"Oh, Henrietta...!" Louise sniffles through shuddering breaths, joyous tears misting her eyes. "Thank you! Thank you so very much!"
Holding her best friend's hand in hers, Henrietta responds, "Think nothing of it, Louise," and strokes a lone, delicate thumb across Louise's bare, moist cheek in a tender moment of affection.
The two women say nothing further as they simply clutch one another, maintaining the bond of loyalty, trust, and sisterhood between them.
After a time, Louise wipes her eyes and slips free of Henrietta's embrace, so she might return to her proper place below the throne's steps.
"Now," Henrietta says softly as the two regard one another with a smile. "There is another matter I wish to discuss with you, Louise, while we may speak privately like this."
Reaching within her cloak to withdraw a brown-tinted document from an inside pocket, the young Queen Henrietta unfolds it and peruses the contents for a moment, following which she shifts in her seat and leans forward.
"Once your visit here concludes, I would have you and Michael embark on an errand," Henrietta, her tone coloured by a touch more seriousness, reveals. "For Tristain and her subjects."
Curious, Louise arches a brow and prompts, "Errand?"
Henrietta, though nodding in confirmation, lowers her eyes ever so briefly, hesitating. "For... sometime now, there have been multiple instances of nobles suppressing common folk within Lenore township..."
Taken aback, Louise gasps with alarm.
"Supression, in Lenore...? Is that true...?"
"I am afraid so," Henrietta declares, slowly shaking her head and grimacing. "Sir Andrew, a noble knight who serves the crown, informed me that a royal tax collector is extorting businesses there."
Louise brings her right hand to her mouth, unable to mask her surprise.
"A tax collector?" she whispers. "Sir Andrew didn't elaborate...?"
Henrietta's expression visibly darkens, her eyes glinting with a mix of conflict and sadness.
"He did not, but rumors are floating around Lenore that the person committing such dreadful acts in my name frequents many bars and taverns in the township."
Louise clutches both hands against her chest,.
"Oh my..." she utters, shaken by the news. "To do such things in your name-"
"It is less this person's actions and more his victims I am concerned about. My subjects being extorted concerns me, Louise Françoise," Henrietta announces, causing Louise to pause and nod in understanding.
"If the future leader of this kingdom cannot ensure peace and prosperity for those whom she represents, what should make her any different from bandits that act without conscience?" Henrietta asks with a hint of bitterness in her soft voice. "If I were to leave these poor people to this thief and their subordinates' devices, I fear the result would see Tristan become a far lesser place."
Stroking her chin in contemplation and exhaling deeply, Henrietta adds, "As such, and given all that was recently endured to quell trouble brought on by Fouquet, I cannot let this cruelty pass."
"Right." Louise nods in comprehension. "As such, what would you have me do, Princess?"
Henrietta glances her way, humming pensively.
"I would have you and Michael venture to Lenore under false identities, say, common-born newlyweds, perhaps, find the culprit, and unmask them," she states, raising her right hand and forming it into a fist.
Her frustration visibly easing after revealing her plan, Henrietta sits back and smiles.
Louise's cheeks burn and her heartbeat ticks upward over the notion of pretending to be Michael's wife. Especially considering how close the two have become as of late.
"You wish for me and Michael to play at being spouses?" the pinkette wonders. "How long for?"
Henrietta chuckles rather warmly and elaborates. "It was a mere suggestion, Louise. The two of you may assume any identities you wish while acting in my service provided your deception remains intact."
Louise blushes even more heatedly and finds herself momentarily lost for words.
Henrietta beams tenderly, the glimmer of an idea and the glitter of innocent mischief sparkling in her blue eyes.
"Shall I draft a marriage certificate for Michael and yourself? It shall be legal and fully recognized by the crown for the duration of this task."
"H-Henrietta...!" Louise sputters, quiet satisfaction swelling in her small chest in secret over her best friend's playful suggestion.
"This will provide you both the means to share a room as two commoners without drawing undue attention," Henrietta presses, her lips folding into a cheeky pout. "Not that I imagine bars and pubs frequented by everyday citizens pay mind to such things."
Feeling her heart skip a beat at Henrietta's final suggestion, Louise's cheeks brighten further.
Finally, a chance to have Michael well and truly to herself! A chance to be the sole source of his affection without Kirche, Tabitha, or even Siesta getting in her way.
And so, Louise poses a tiny, nervous question.
"Do you jest, Henrietta, or are you sincere?" she wonders in the briefest of whispers.
"I am completely serious about this should you desire it, my teasing tone aside," her companion answers with a decisive nod. "I had best advise the kingdom's document keepers to craft two fake certificates; one for Michael and another for yourself. Furthermore, you will be afforded a small coin purse by the crown, to cover any expenses you may incur whilst acting in my service."
Mouth agape, Louise bows in silence.
"Will this satisfy you, Louise...?" Henrietta poses, awaiting a response.
"I-It will," Louise answers. "Of course it will."
For but a moment, she looks away and folds her hands together.
"More than anything in the world," she concludes in a tiny whisper.
Henrietta rests one knee across the other and clasps her hands upon it, grinning in triumph.
"Very well," she murmurs contentedly. "When your visit here concludes, I will have papers prepared and a pouch of coin for you to fetch before you and Michael depart."
"Do return to the Academy for a day or two before departing on this task, however," Henrietta suggests, shrugging her shoulders. "To maintain the appearance of normality, you understand."
Louise stands a mite straighter than before, nodding confidently.
"I will," she affirms. "And I will discuss this with Michael upon our return to the Academy."
Henrietta stifles a naughty giggle in her palm and again leans forward with a pleasant smile.
"Lovely, Louise. And please, do have fun where you can."
Louise fails at her attempt to hide a blush as Henrietta's grin curbs seductively, and she adds with a murmur, "And remember, I am rooting for you and your familiar, always."
The young woman, suddenly lost for words, can do nothing but stare at her friend in bewilderment.
Henrietta hums gently, leaning back into her chair and crossing her legs in a lady-like fashion.
"You may go if you so wish it, Louise, so that you may relax before dinner is served."
Louise bows as deeply as she is able and then turns away.
"O-Of course..."
Before departing, however, she spins back and brandishes her deepest, most caring smile.
"Thank you, Henrietta, truly," Louise whispers and hurries from the royal audience chamber with a lively spring in her step, her heart aflutter.
She has a lot to tell Michael upon their return home.
First things first, however, she intends to enjoy her chamber's view of the palace grounds.
Sighing gently, the pinkette folds her arms behind her back and begins down the long hall ahead of her.
"Your friendship will ever be my greatest treasure..."
With her soft, heartfelt exclamation but a whisper, the noblewoman quickens her pace.
There is no telling where this journey will take her and Michael.
With the Princess' help, however, she will do everything in her power to keep her lovable blonde idiot of a familiar close.
Tabitha paces through a large cobweb-covered row of books toward the dimly lit far corner of Tristania Palace's royal library. Taking careful and considerate steps to ensure the sound of her feet against the stone floor does not draw attention from anyone in this deepest, most taboo selection of books, she halts and comes to regard the rows of old, unused tomes assembled before her with a neutral expression.
Their bindings range from faded green to deep blue, gold, and brass, each clearly showing signs of wear due to their advanced age and neglect.
Having found nothing that might help sever the magical connection she and Michael share, and as much as she would rather not do so, Tabitha sighs.
"Nothing, nothing at all," she laments, her fruitless search has dragged on for what feels like hours.
Eyes shifting upward, the bluenette mage takes hold of the spine of a dusty tome two rows higher on the shelf before her and with some effort, stands on her tippy toes and pulls.
"Heavy," she utters, her knees straining as she lifts the thing.
Once her prize is secured, however, the young woman lowers herself back onto her feet.
Sputtering and sneezing as a cloud of ancient dust explodes around her face, Tabitha takes but a step back and plants her rear squarely upon the floor.
Cracking open the cover of the book in her possession, the mage is treated to yet another fine gust of dust.
Turning away to shield herself from it, Tabitha grits her teeth and frowns at the thing.
Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes clean with her free hand, she focuses upon the first page of text-covered parchment, reading in a whisper: "A Treatise into the Joining and Separation of Magic and Substance."
"This might prove useful," she murmurs, her heart contracting with something of a pang. "It might also lead to nothing."
With this cautionary notion echoing through her mind, Tabitha presses on, allowing her eyes to scan the first paragraph printed upon the aged yellow parchment:
"Whilst seldom taught in conventional institutions, numerous schools of thought have developed to counteract the phenomena encountered when Mage and Substance are bonded; either temporarily, or indefinitely."
Heart catching in her throat at the last word, Tabitha draws a slow, raspy breath and continues.
"Recent discoveries into these schools, mostly comprising theories proposed by an elusive and perhaps non-existent group, conclude that separation of the aforementioned can be achieved through a process known as a spiritual cleansing, through which the magic of the caster - in this case - is removed from the body of their companion."
Tabitha's heartbeat quickens ever so at how promising this looks.
"By performing the proper incantation, the mage who created the bond and their cohort can be severed or, at the very least, altered. To understand this process, however, one must become familiar with the steps taken to bind two souls as one."
Having already accomplished as much by accident, Tabitha flicks through many a dust-covered page in the hopes of finding the segment relation to the separation of individuals instead of their becoming joined.
Suddenly, the bluenette's sensitive ears pick up a gentle footfall coming from behind her.
"Miss Tabitha," calls a middle-aged woman adorned in expensive crimson fineries whose appearance sees Tabitha jolt upright, snap the book in her lap shut, and face the long, narrow aisle of books.
"Might I ask why you loiter at length in this particular corner of our castle's archive of tomes?"
Knowing all too well that her being in this part of the royal library, and around so many tomes of questionable origins is cause for concern, Tabitha turns and meets the librarian's eyes.
The older woman looks back, her eyes narrowing a hint as though expecting an answer.
"Research," the young woman in her care replies in her typically soft and quiet voice.
The librarian makes a huffing sound, as if expectant of as much.
She then rolls her eyes in frustration and waves at the tome's open pages with a displeased look on her face.
"The binding and separation of magical substances? Is such a tome not too advanced for one of your age?" she asks with a haughty, almost snooty undertone.
Tabitha keeps her features neutral and lifeless as she lifts her chin and stares into the librarian's blue eyes, her left hand idling away. An attempt to deter suspicion.
In response, the older woman raises one of her bushy red eyebrows in contempt and quickly taps the toe of one foot against the stone floor.
"While I mean not to judge a reader by their literary tastes, Miss Tabitha, you of all people should know that such grimoire holds certain... dangers."
Exhaling in the realization that both the tone in the woman's voice and her hand gestures indicate Tabitha ought to return to more harmless tomes, she whispers: "It... caught my interest."
As Tabitha stands, the head librarian lets out a barely concealed scoff.
"...Just see that it is returned to its proper place before departing Tristania with your companions, yes? Preferably earlier rather than later."
Tabitha nods twice, carefully tucking the dusty tome in question into the soft-leather backpack at her feet.
Once more, however, the older woman's gaze locks to the thing as Tabitha pulls the thread of its string and stands to her full height, it swaying from her arm.
"And for goodness sakes, do not harbor any foolhardy notions such as practicing the procedures depicted in that particular grimoire. Lord knows what manner of danger might befall you."
Frowning the smallest fraction at the advice provided, Tabitha turns away.
"Noted, thank you."
Unwilling to loiter under the steely gaze of this particular keeper of tomes, Tabitha heads back toward the center of the massive cavernous space wherein countless rows upon rows of books converge.
As the blue-haired girl crosses one threshold into the warmer sunlight spearing its way through the stained-glass skylights set high in the ceiling overhead, she pushes out a short, sharp sigh.
Namely, because the librarian's advice is useless to her.
At the thought of that, she shakes her head and frowns.
What matters now is fixing the issue.
Closing her eyes, she inhales and exhales deeply in a bid to pinpoint Michael's heartbeat through their connection.
Upon coming up empty-handed, however, she shakes her head.
"He's too far away," the dainty mage laments, lips pressing together.
Feeling a breeze from outside whisk past her as she speaks, Tabitha feels her brow furrow.
"...Probably."
Seating herself on one of the long library tables to her right, the bluenette brings her leg up to her chin and begins to think.
"Must I separate our connection...?" the girl ponders inwardly, sighing a second time as her mind shifts elsewhere.
Closing her eyes, the teen allows a momentary lapse of silence as she considers the ramifications of losing the ability to hear her love's heartbeat wherever he is, and of their senses being tied.
Sending forth an uncharacteristic shiver down her spine, Tabitha's body stiffens from sudden uncertainty.
And it's at this moment that she hopes, nay, prays in the back of her mind that this tome might not be the key to solving her problem.
With this, the blue-haired mage gets up from her chair and approaches the pair of elegant doors leading out to the adjoining hall.
...
Having washed and re-clothed in a plain white bustier and undergarments, Tabitha lays across her bed and focuses on the soft, steady "thu-thump, thu-thump" of Michael's heart.
A comfort. A sign he's close.
Then, taking slow, deep breaths, the petite girl extends an arm and thumbs through several pages of the leather-bound tome she brought out from the library.
Doing so in only the dim light of the sputtering candle beside her bed, after having closed the thick red velvet curtains, she reads passage after passage and dedicates as many of them as possible to memory.
She frowns at this difficult, advanced, highly complex magic.
Yes, one or two methods may theoretically result in her and Michael's separation. However, the preparations required would take days, no, weeks, even with her exceptionally advanced magical abilities.
Worse, success is not guaranteed.
Alas, Tabitha still feels her heart throb, and her brow knot in tension and frustration.
"Darn..."
Eventually, having memorised every prescribed step of the simpler-looking procedures within, the bespectacled girl prepares to slam the tome shut.
That is, until a certain passage on this next page, one of the final pages within, takes hold of her mind and engrosses her attention.
"Through the correct circumstances and indulging acts most carnal and intimate..." the teenage girl repeats, eyebrows flying up a fraction.
"At the peak of purest pleasure, their love for one another, their bond, their connection, and their unified souls shall reach an unforgettable plateau..."
Her heartbeat hammering suddenly, Tabitha continues reading.
"And here in this crucial moment, when the seed of the one - untainted by potion or poultice - fills the womb of the other, shall all they have built together come crumbling down. For as they scream each other's names, they will become born anew..."
Allowing her mouth to hang agape, Tabitha ponders the notion set out in the tome.
Sex. Without a sheathe or a potion to prevent pregnancy.
Completely unprotected sex... with Michael.
Heart pounding heavily against her ribcage, the bluenette swallows a clump of fear and nervousness built up in her throat and looks to the candle burning at her bedside.
"Will Louise... let me?"
As a spike of uncertainty lances down her body, the short-haired girl pulls a slow breath and places her palm upon her flat chest to feel the rhythm of her galloping heart.
A means to try and calm herself, and she closes her eyes and shifts focus toward Michael's steady heartbeat, which serves as an anchor of some kind.
Yes.
A long, painful, hard thought.
It is clear that the pinkette shares a lot in common with her, in the sense that they both love Michael and want to become closer to him.
This, when combined with Louise's immense jealousy and insecurity, only serves to make things harder, it seems. No, near impossible, actually.
Thus, slamming the tome shut, Tabitha flops against the soft sheets beneath her body and stares up at the ceiling.
"There is... no way Louise will allow it," the bespectacled mage murmurs as her eyes drift to the dimly burning candle at her bedside. "Even if it severs our bond as she desires."
Breathing out through her nose in heavy frustration, the petite girl tilts her head to regard the crystal wineglass lounging beside said candle, the contents within filled with pale, crystalline water.
"No way whatsoever..."
And this truth, at its core, saddens the slender, lonely young woman.
Hurts her.
In ways she cannot articulate with words she so seldom speaks.
Feeling her brow knot and her lip twitch, Tabitha inhales in the realization that tears have formed in the corners of her eyes.
"Michael," the lonely girl whimpers in a tiny voice, closing her eyes to her steady heart.
"...I..."
A single droplet of sorrow and longing, however, slides down the corner of one cheek and into the shell of her ear.
This prompts Tabitha to open her eyes again, a sad and forlorn look overcoming her delicate features. A breath escapes her lungs a moment after, and her gaze drifts up to the darkening red of the canopy above.
And in that moment, a spark of realization lights within her heart, the tiniest of smiles spreading across her lips.
All she has do is show Louise the ritual...!
"Louise will refuse, and then..."
Tabitha stops herself, her eyes closing a second time as her smile brightens.
"...Bested by jealousy, she will allow Michael and I to remain as we are."
Allowing the tome on the bedsheets at her side to slip onto the floor, the dainty blue-haired girl closes her eyes and nestles further into the sheets of her luxurious bed, smiling contentedly at her love's beating heart.
"...Good," she whispers as she turns toward her window, staring at the crimson sunset outside.
The bluenette closes her eyes, allowing the soft sound of the heart within her head to guide her into a calm, serene sleep.
One she can wake from with renewed strength, renewed vigor, and renewed determination.
As the sun begins to sink below the horizon and the sky turns a warm, soothing shade of orange, I walk through the huge gardens of Tristania Palace. My footsteps are soft and measured as I walk through the hedgerows and flower beds, and my hands are folded behind my back.
"...Guess I should be thankful Louise told me, about her and Wardes... but still.."
I sigh and shake my head.
This is all too much, way too much. And not just the engagement, either.
"...The foursome we had, Siesta waiting back in Lenore... all of it."
As my mind's eye replays the image of Louise and Kirche kissing passionately, their fingers locked and the Germanian's huge rack pressing against Louise's almost flat chest, I feel my cheeks burn and my heart race with a confusing mix of frustration and desire.
This is followed by Tabitha, whose pale cheeks had burned bright red as she sucked me off like some pro from a sleazy home video.
Needing something to smile about, I look over the royal symbol Henrietta gave me a little earlier.
Something about its design, its vines and vibrant rose stitched into the cloth, fill me with a certain calm.
No, it's more than that, pride. It's pride.
"My my, you're looking awfully dour there, darling," a familiar, heavily accented voice suddenly purrs.
A certain Germanian, who, despite being part of the reason everything feels so damn chaotic right now, is still my friend.
Turning toward the voice, I face the girl, her red lips curved in an attractive and reassuring smile.
Her smile alone, the confidence that exudes from the very presence she projects, sees the tension leave my body and a sigh escapes my lungs.
"Hey, Kirche, you alright?"
The redhead grins a little wider in response, her red eyes glowing.
"You could say that..." she whispers in that smooth, silken voice of hers. "And what of you?"
I shrug and look toward the sunset, frowning as I struggle to make sense of my inner thoughts.
"A lot on my mind, if I'm honest," I answer, forcing a thin smile, "but I'm guessing you had that figured out already, hmm?"
"Something of the sort," Kirche muses as she walks closer, the gentle, steady clap of her leather shoes against the gravel path soft but audible.
"Want to talk about it?"
"...Even if it concerns everything at Halfway House...?" I pose.
A spark of curiosity flickers in the Germanian's eyes and a tiny, somewhat guilty-looking smile curves her lips.
"Of course. We've all shared far too much with each other not to be upfront."
And that's all it takes to have me release the pent-up breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.
"Fair point, fair point," I mumble. "Let's at least go somewhere a little quieter then, yeah?"
Kirche glances over the expanse of the gardens in search of such a place. Her eyes glint with satisfaction when she notices a distant hedge maze.
"Let's go over there," the redhead suggests and begins to walk. "I doubt anyone will bother us."
"As good a place as any," I sigh as I fall into step at the girl's side, my hands still folded behind my back.
Kirche eyes me, the warmth in her smile deepening. "We'll take a quick turn at the maze's entrance and go a short ways inside. That should be deep enough, I think."
"Fine by me."
And with that, we walk the gardens in relative silence, my companion glancing at me with a tiny smirk each time our gazes meet.
After several minutes of walking, the redhead stops before a wide, neatly trimmed hedge that blocks passage to a grand-looking maze.
"Alright then," the buxom, seductive young woman begins, "what's bothering you, Michael, dear?"
"Two things, really," I answer, raising a couple of fingers for a quick second before lowering them again. "First, the whole thing between us on the way here... There's something I'd like to know."
The girl's eyes sparkle with obvious curiosity. "Go on."
Taking a moment to consider what to say, I pull a long and thoughtful breath into my lungs before looking at her.
"How long have you had feelings for me?"
Kirche grins at the question, and for the first time since meeting the girl, I sense a hint of shyness, uncertainty, and nervousness in her eyes and the way she carries herself.
She sighs through her nose.
"Since witnessing your duel with Guiche, shortly after your arrival. Why...?"
I shrug in response and frown.
"I just needed to know, with how things went down the other night," I answer, forcing a glassy smile.
"Awww," Kirche coos with a somewhat sympathetic look, "having reservations now, are we?"
"A little too late for that," I mumble in a weak, shaky voice.
Inhaling a deep breath, I hold the girl's eyes as I release my pent-up feelings through my next few words. "...You... You and I... No, you specifically... why'd you kick it all off?"
"Michael, dear, are you suggesting I alone instigated our little game the other evening?" the girl asks, her eyebrows raising ever so in a mix of curiosity and defensiveness, despite her playful undertone.
Feeling I'm on point, I press ahead.
"Am I wrong, though?"
The girl's lips purse slightly and her eyes narrow at this, a glint like fire burning in her gaze.
"And supposing you are correct, dear, it isn't as though you or Louise refused, now is it?"
Her retort sees the corners of my lips quirk up the smallest amount into a dry smile.
"I suppose not," I answer with a slow, resigned shake of the head.
"Then why is all of this such a problem to you, Michael?" Kirche poses as she leans in a little closer and stares at me, the warmth in her gaze having somewhat diminished. "Were our acts of intimacy so objectionable that you'd wish them forgotten?"
I take a deep, shuddering breath and exhale.
"No, nothing like that..."
"Then what ails you concerning all of this, dearest?" the Germanian asks with a slightly annoyed shake of her head, her ruby lips curling into a small, seductive smirk.
"I'm just... I'm trying to figure out where I stand with everything, with everyone," I mumble with a slow shake of my head. "Especially knowing what I do now... concerning Louise."
Kirche raises a curious brow, folds her arms, and hums with intrigue.
"Oh, and what, pray tell, would that be?" she presses, folding her arms under her breasts to draw my attention there.
Best I'm careful here, real careful.
"...What I'm about to tell you stays strictly between us, Kirche, alright?"
Kirche nods her understanding, her smile warming considerably as a result. "I swear it."
With another sigh, I nod my head, ready to lay my biggest worry on the line.
"Louise is engaged, to some Count, a guy called 'Wardes', she said," I murmur. "...And I suppose I'm still struggling with taking it in, being real with you."
A faint glimmer of understanding shines in Kirche's eyes. She steps a little closer, and I feel my cheeks warm as I catch the scent of her perfume.
"Ah... I see," the redhead whispers, her eyes sparkling with emotion as she nods in understanding.
"You... don't seem too surprised," I note with a frown.
The Germanian sighs as her gaze drops, her fingers pulling nervously at a stray strand of her fiery-red hair.
"Hardly, when such is the norm for girls like she and I," she confesses in a small, pained voice.
Oh yeah, I remember, Kirche's engaged to some nobleman double her age back home in Germania. Shit, it had slipped my mind with so much going on over this past week or so.
"...Right," I mutter with a frown.
"At any rate, darling, we of nobility do not have a say in whom we are engaged to," Kirche adds as a tiny, uncomfortable smile curls her lips.
"...Yeah, I know, it's just-"
Kirche places a finger on my lips, cutting me off.
"Michael, dearest, let me share some wisdom with you, alright?"
I nod.
"Three women of noble birth yearn for your heart, four if we count Montmorency," the buxom redhead begins as she lifts her hand away from my lips. "Now, I do not pertain to know the customs of your world, darling, but here in Halkeginia, many would consider this an enviable position. And an exceptional one for a commoner, no less."
I hang my head while the gravity of Kirche's words sinks in.
Not that I don't already know as much or anything.
Hearing her say as much aloud. though, well, it's something of a grounding moment.
"What I am trying to say is, Michael," the buxom woman murmurs in a low, hushed tone, her hand falling to her side as she leans closer to me. "...You should enjoy this, it should not burden you."
"I'd try and take your words to heart," I sigh, my brow furrowing a little in frustration. "...Only my girl is marrying another guy, Kirche..."
"Michael..."
Anger peaking, I frown and shake my head as I turn my gaze from my companion. "This kind of crap doesn't happen in my world. Well, not in my culture, at least."
"...And herein lies the crux of this dilemma, Michael, Tristain is not your London," the young woman murmurs, the warmth and softness in her eyes melting into empathy and pity.
"It never has been."
And for a few, brief moments, all that passes between the two of us is the distant sound of chirping birds and a warm breeze.
Then, all of a sudden, I feel Kirche's slender hands against my cheeks.
I tilt my face upward and our gazes meet.
The young woman's expression, which was previously soft and gentle, hardens. Her ruby lips are curled into a small, pensive frown.
"Women like Louise and myself, we must take happiness where we can, while we can, dear," the redhead whispers in a small voice as her hands begin to slide down my cheeks and across my chin, toward the front of my throat.
My breath catches and my eyes widen the smallest bit.
"...Kirche..."
"What's more, the two of us have chosen to seek such happiness from you, dear. Tabitha, too."
Before I can say anything further, Kirche closes the remaining distance between us, the tip of her nose pressing gently against mine.
Her warm, sultry breath washing across my lips.
The scent of her perfume - a light vanilla mixed with the barest hint of roses - overwhelms my senses, and the sensation of her smooth skin and long, slender fingers pressing against my skin has my heart hammering like a jackhammer against my rib cage.
My breathing stops for a fraction of a second.
"...My heart burns for you, Michael DeSilva, though I know yours rests largely with Louise," Kirche confesses in a small, quivering whisper. "And, though I know this, I feel compelled to help you. So we might make this game of love we each play into something truly exciting."
The corners of my lips lifting into a fragile, uneasy smile, I inhale a breath, hold it, and then release it all at once.
"You're saying I should go for it?" I ask, my voice quivering with emotion. "That I should give everything between me, you, and everyone else a go?"
A warm, all-consuming smile spreads across her red lips, the Germanian woman nods.
"I believe it is the best course of action, Michael," she says, her thumbs sliding to the hollow of my throat as she gazes at me with eyes of a pure, smoldering fire. "This engagement you struggle with so greatly... It's an opportunity to better yourself, so you might not be an underdog forever."
The corners of my eyes sting and my throat feels tight, making it harder to swallow.
"What I mean to say, darling, is that you should distinguish yourself," Kirche continues in a gentle tone as her hands come to a halt at the nape of my neck.
"So that, whomever you choose, be it one or all of us, you might be more desirable in the eyes of the nobility. A man who stands at the right of Princess Henrietta, who can become more than just Louise's commoner, will no doubt see many doors open before him."
It feels like all the breath escapes my lungs as the gravity of what Kirche says begins to dawn on me.
I've viewed this world's way of things with disdain so many times since coming here. I've fought against its oppressiveness with everything I have, to no avail.
And now, now I see a glimmer of opportunity to change it.
Or, at the very least, do right by the people that matter most to me here in Tristain.
But the only way I can do that is to embrace my circumstances.
"You make a good point, Kirche..."
Kirche's eyes sparkle with obvious joy at my admission. She steps back from me a little, though her hands remain firmly around my neck.
"Of course, I do, dear."
Smiling with genuine satisfaction, Kirche hums as a tiny smirk quirks the corner of her mouth.
"And the price for this sage wisdom, Miss von Zerbst?" I ask with a low, warm chuckle.
My words are met by an alluring hum from the Germanian. "For that, Mister DeSliva, I require a kiss."
A wide, excited smile spreads across Kirche's ruby lips. Her fingers slip back up my neck to the back of my head as her breasts push up against my chest, her warm breath tickling the side of my neck.
I laugh again as I press my chest to hers. "Think I can manage a couple, I guess."
The woman's ruby lips curve into an amused smirk at my answer, a playful look shining in her eyes.
"I can be very greedy," she teases leaning in and closing her lips on my own.
Warmth and the barest hint of moisture against my skin. The gentle press of smooth lips. A shudder of electricity lances across the surface of my flesh as the tips of Kirche's large, natural breasts brush up against my chest through the fabric of our clothes.
And I, unable to do much else, sigh, and wrap my hands around her waist.
Our kiss deepens in seconds, our tongues sliding against one another, a tiny groan of desire slipping from the Germanian's ruby-colored lips.
Kirche's hands move from the back of my neck, and down, slowly, across my shoulders and down my arms. I feel them run down the front of my body, stopping for a fraction of a second at my chest before sliding to the side and then slipping underneath the fabric of my shirt.
I shudder, her fingers brushing up against my chest and her long fingernails raking across the surface of my flesh, as our kiss deepens.
"I want more..." she moans breathlessly, our lips peeling apart with the barest of smacking sounds.
"Behave, girl," I growl back in a voice as heated as it is breathless. "I've gotta head back to Louise before we're called on for dinner."
Kirche pouts and glowers at me, but nods her reluctant understanding regardless.
"Just make sure you consider what I said, Michael," Kirche follows up in a low, caring tone while easing out of my embrace. "And should you need anything, come to me, I am always here for you."
My heart warmed, I nod.
"I'll hold you to that," I answer in a gentle tone.
And with that, Kirche leans forward and places another small, teasing kiss against the tip of my nose.
"Have a wonderful afternoon, dear."
"Likewise."
And, with a smile and a little wink, the young woman turns away from me.
Then, in a seductive swish of her wide, well-endowed hips, Kirche is on the move again, her cloak and long, flowing red hair billowing gently in the soft afternoon breeze behind her.
Watching her go, a small smile touching the corners of my lips, I inhale a long breath through my nose.
My eyes closing, my nostrils filling with the lingering scent of her perfume, I let it all out through my mouth with a slow, almost tranquil sigh.
Yep, it is time to accept this strange game of love we're all playing.
Or, at the very least, work toward being recognised and respected by Tristain's nobles.
That way, I might stand half a chance of keeping Louise.
Mind made up, I nod to myself.
"Thanks... Kirche."
Opening my eyes, I set my gaze forward with a new-found sense of purpose, and begin back through the hedge maze.
A gentle, comforting sensation grips my chest as I do. A realization.
Kirche, as flirty and as out there as she is, cares for me. Deeply.
Deeply enough that, for the first time since she started trying to hit it off with me, I genuinely believe her feelings are more than mere attraction or some quick-burning flame.
And that gives me one heck of a bright, satisfied smile.
To be continued...
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