Ficlet: First Frost
Title: First Frost
Fandom/original: Original - inspired by rougen's Company-verse AU
Rating: G
A/N: The prompt was "when Hell freezes over." Done in 15 minutes.
"Well?"
Nicolas sounded casual, he knew; he'd been trained to. Trained not to betray his emotions by the slightest twitch unless he chose to. "Well what, miss? What can I do for you?"
She stood looking at him with piercing eyes. He remembered her mother's eyes - just as intense, but perhaps less sharp. The affair had been brief but certainly... memorable.
Finally, he sighed. "Look, you're going to have to say what it is you - "
"You are my father, are you not?" she said, her low voice sharp as a needle.
Nicolas let himself look surprised. "Where on earth did you get such an idea?"
She snorted in derision, moving to the window. There was an aura of power about her, with a control her mother had never matched. He didn't know how this woman had been raised, but it had certainly yielded a force to be reckoned with. "Please, don't bother playing coy. I'm not trying to entrap you, or extort money or anything so tawdry." She turned back to him. "I simply wish to know if I am correct."
He sighed. "I do not know, Miss Dakren. It is possible." Nicolas tilted his head. "Perhaps it is likely, under the circumstances. But I am not certain."
She nodded. "Very well." She had clearly chosen the spot for effect; she looked impressed, silhouetted against the city's skyline. "Did you know of my existence?"
"No." He shifted his weight, not quite impatiently. He was annoyed that he didn't know what she wanted, and further annoyed that her smirk looked oddly like how he remembered Stella's.
"Mm." She came a little closer, studying his face. "...very well. Father. I wish to have a place in society, and that dictates that I continue to uphold the fiction that my mother's husband was my father. However... should you ever cast any aspersions on that fiction, I will be most displeased."
It was laughable, this woman more than twenty years his junior making threats. He was one of the most powerful men in the Company. He hardly had anything to fear from an ambitious but relatively unknown woman.
Which didn't explain the chill that ran down his spine.
"Miss Dakren, I assure you, it is in my interest as well as yours to carry on as if your parentage has nothing to do with me."
She smiled; it was a lovely, charming smile, though there was something dangerous beneath it. "Just so. Thank you for your time... Mr. Willoughby."
"Goodnight." He turned to go, disciplined and casual, despite the fact he felt like someone had just walked over his grave.
Fandom/original: Original - inspired by rougen's Company-verse AU
Rating: G
A/N: The prompt was "when Hell freezes over." Done in 15 minutes.
"Well?"
Nicolas sounded casual, he knew; he'd been trained to. Trained not to betray his emotions by the slightest twitch unless he chose to. "Well what, miss? What can I do for you?"
She stood looking at him with piercing eyes. He remembered her mother's eyes - just as intense, but perhaps less sharp. The affair had been brief but certainly... memorable.
Finally, he sighed. "Look, you're going to have to say what it is you - "
"You are my father, are you not?" she said, her low voice sharp as a needle.
Nicolas let himself look surprised. "Where on earth did you get such an idea?"
She snorted in derision, moving to the window. There was an aura of power about her, with a control her mother had never matched. He didn't know how this woman had been raised, but it had certainly yielded a force to be reckoned with. "Please, don't bother playing coy. I'm not trying to entrap you, or extort money or anything so tawdry." She turned back to him. "I simply wish to know if I am correct."
He sighed. "I do not know, Miss Dakren. It is possible." Nicolas tilted his head. "Perhaps it is likely, under the circumstances. But I am not certain."
She nodded. "Very well." She had clearly chosen the spot for effect; she looked impressed, silhouetted against the city's skyline. "Did you know of my existence?"
"No." He shifted his weight, not quite impatiently. He was annoyed that he didn't know what she wanted, and further annoyed that her smirk looked oddly like how he remembered Stella's.
"Mm." She came a little closer, studying his face. "...very well. Father. I wish to have a place in society, and that dictates that I continue to uphold the fiction that my mother's husband was my father. However... should you ever cast any aspersions on that fiction, I will be most displeased."
It was laughable, this woman more than twenty years his junior making threats. He was one of the most powerful men in the Company. He hardly had anything to fear from an ambitious but relatively unknown woman.
Which didn't explain the chill that ran down his spine.
"Miss Dakren, I assure you, it is in my interest as well as yours to carry on as if your parentage has nothing to do with me."
She smiled; it was a lovely, charming smile, though there was something dangerous beneath it. "Just so. Thank you for your time... Mr. Willoughby."
"Goodnight." He turned to go, disciplined and casual, despite the fact he felt like someone had just walked over his grave.