[Fanfiction] [round 42], G
Author/Artist: roxyryoko
Characters/Pairings: Anissina, (slight Anissina/Gwendal)
Word Count: (for fanfics*) 5,886
Rating: G
Any Warnings: no
Theme/Prompt being used:Anissina, birthday
Late entry....
.
The Taste of Regret
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh or any of the characters.
"Choose the fabric you would like to use for your new dress, Greta," stated Anissina as she swept her hand over the assorted fabrics that servants had brought in at her request. The many fabrics were neatly folded up in small squares, just large enough to display the patterns and textures of each, but at the same time petite enough to allow maximum usage of the surface area of the table on which they covered. Greta's eyes roamed over the neat little bundles, casting over the soft velvets, the silky satins, the flowery and swirling patterned brocades. Greta's dress was to be formal for the upcoming celebration in honor of Yuri's seventeenth birthday, which was to be held in the castle in a few short weeks. A huge ball was planned by Gunter along with other flamboyant ostentations. It was only natural that Greta have a new and exceedingly lovely dress for the occasion; it was even more necessary as she was the daughter of His Majesty.
Greta pointed to a dark purple brocade with gold flowers embroidered on its surface. "I like this one," she said simply. She looked up at Anissina with a smile. "Do you think Yuri will like it?" Her eyes wavered with concern and hope.
Anissina picked up the material and inspected it, turning it over so her eyes caught all parts of the revealed fabric. "Yes, I am sure His Majesty will be quite pleased. It is a lovely fabric. Violet and gold are the colors of royalty, in fact." She bent down to the little girl with a large ruby-lipped smile on her face. "Besides, he'll love it just because you're the one wearing it." Greta smiled back.
The older woman straightened up. "Any man with common sense would like it. It is a shame that we women must train men to behave properly. I assure you that His Majesty needs no training; no, he has learned how to treat a woman. But some men need to be taught to worship women when they ought; they need to learn when it is essential to give a proper compliment even if it is a lie, and when to keep their mouths otherwise shut. And in order to advance woman as a gender equal, or in my personal opinion, superior to men, we must course them to behave in an acceptable decorum. I often think that this must be taught from infancy to produce the desired results, and I have been telling my fellow women this at our meetings."
With a blank expression, Greta stared up at Anissina. She was completely overtaken with the amount of information that had poured out of Anissina's mouth, but she knew that whatever this woman had said was extremely important; everything Anissina said was important; a great lesson, especially for women. The red head had told her so herself.
Anissina's expression softened and a slight smile stretched across her lips. “I am saying that men should always say a woman is beautiful, and should say that no matter what she is wearing,” she said gently. Greta nodded in understanding. She continued in a softer tone, “After all, women go to such lengths to please men by appearing pretty for them. A foolish thing to do, but it is done. Men, by common courtesy, should appreciate her efforts and applaud her with such a compliment.” Her voice lowered and lowered with each word until she was near whisper at the last syllable. After speaking, she remained silent for several moments and stared off thoughtfully. A look of slight sorrow seemed intertwined in her features. The little girl couldn’t help but wonder what her companion was thinking about. What thought, indeed, could have Anissina appear so down-hearted?
But in the next few moments the sorrow was completely gone, and in its place was Anissina’s usual vivacious attitude. She hooked the purple material over the bend of her arm and turned to a near by cabinet. She strutted over to it and opened the drawer. She looked inside at the contents of trims, which included lace, little pink fabric flowers and accompanying little green leaves weaved together in strings, crystal-like beads strung up in intricate designs, and many more in beautiful designs. She swooped up a particular white lace with small color flowers embroidered at the edges. “Do you want lace on your dress? What do you think about this design?” she asked. She lowered the bundle down to the eyes of the small girl. A long piece hung out between her fingers of her opened hand.
Greta glanced at the pretty trim and nodded happily. “That’s so pretty!” she exclaimed.
“Good, then we can begin.” Anissina began walking to the large table in the center of the room that housed a sewing machine. She thought of the invention she had made to make sewing easier for women, but then remembered how unsuccessful it had been when a man had powered it; the stitches had been a disaster. Greta followed in suite behind her. “Do you still remember your measurements?” she asked the child. She then proceeded to spreading the fabric across the table and putting the trim in the corner for later use.
“Yes!” answered Greta, as she rummaged in her pocket. “I have it written down here,” she added as she produced a folded piece of paper.
“Let’s have a look.” She bent down as Greta unfolded the paper. Her eyes glanced over the numbers and their corresponding body parts. “Okay, then, it’s time to begin your next lesson in sewing. It’s a very important skill for every woman to know, nobles and peasants alike. Since most men choose not to lean such a skill, it is an opportunity for we women to prove that we have the ability to be superior to men.”
“But Gwendal sews,” interjected Greta.
“Yes, but he has been learning for decades and, you, less than a year, and all ready your skill is greater.” They both chuckled lightly at this. “It’s just proof that women have some skills that come easier to them, and at the same time there are skills that are harder for women to develop, such as fighting. However, that only mens that both women and men need to work to develop these skills they lack, and only then can we really talk about equality.”
They two made small talk as they labored over the dress. Anissina made sure that Greta was involved in the entire process. After all, how was she to learn if she did not actively participate herself? Using Greta’s measurements, a pattern was produced. They cut the individual pieces out and pinned the fabric where was necessary. They sewed the many pieces together, being careful to make straight lines. It was an ordeal for the entire day, but Anissina enjoyed spending time with the little girl. If she was not working on an invention she most liked to be spending time with Greta, teaching her to be a proper woman. Of course, she did miss the excitement, the challenge, and the mystery of inventing, but she knew quite well that if she spent all her time experimenting then it would not be as pleasurable.
The dress began to take shape as it was slowly stitched together. It was only missing a sleeve and the trim when His Majesty himself entered the room, appearing slightly flushed. Anissina couldn’t help but smile when she saw the look of relief that washed over his face as he glanced at Greta back to the open door and then back at his daughter once again. She could guess that he was escaping from his duties in the office, and most likely was being pursued by Gunter or Gwendal, or perhaps, both. A smile warmed his visage as he walked over to Greta who had just looked up from seam she was ripping out.
She brightened instantly. “Yuri!” she exclaimed. She quickly swooped up her nearly complete dress and carried the bundle with her as she sprinted over to her father. “Yuri! Yuri! Look at my dress!” She released the bundle in front of him and gripped it from the shoulders. “I’m almost done with it,” she added proudly.
“Wow!” praised Yuri whole-heartedly, as he intently looked over the dress. “That’s really well made, Greta!” The child smiled wide at the compliment. “And it will be even more beautiful when you’re finished and it’s on you. “ He smiled as he spoke, unable to not return her smile. He sighed happily, “I can’t wait to see my little girl dancing and looking so beautiful.” She giggled cheerfully. “You’re growing up so fast! Just promise me you’re stay away from boys at the party. They’re nothing but trouble I tell you!” There was water in his eyes now and a stern paternal expression befell his features.
She laughed, “You’re the one growing up fast. It’s your birthday, Yuri. And I don’t know how to dance.”
“I don’t either, at least, not the Demon Kingdom dances. We should learn together.” He bent down to her eye level as he added, “Would you like that?”
Her smile enlarged even more. “Yes, I’d like that very much!”
He smiled wider as well. “Now we need to find an instructor. I think Gunter was planning on teaching me.”
“That won’t be necessary, Your Majesty,” interjected Anissina, finally speaking after silently watching events unfold from her sitting position at the sewing table. She stood up and calmly, but confidently walked over to the pair. “I would be happy to instruct the both of you. I think a matter such as this---well I think most matters-- ought to be left up to a woman for proper handling. I have been practicing these dances of our kingdom since I was a child, and you very well know that’s life times in your world, Your Majesty.”
“Wow! That would be great! Thank you Anissina!” sputtered the king, looking up at her. “Right, Greta?” he asked, turning his eyes back to his daughter. She nodded excitedly. Greta couldn’t have been more delighted to dance with Yuri.
“Wonderful,” stated Anissina. “Now we just need--aha, Gwendal, you arrived just at the perfect time.” Her eyes fell to the doorway. The other two turned around to see Gwendal, shocked and with an unmistakable look of fright washing across his visage, taking a step back out of the room.
He spoke very quickly, desperately trying to avoid whatever he might have just walked himself into. “I am just here to see to it that His Majesty returns to his duty of signing the official documents currently waiting for him at his desk,” Gwendal said, quickly returning to his stoic and confident demeanor. A feeling of gloom fall upon Yuri, who would much rather like to learn to dance than return to his paperwork. Quite frankly, he’d much rather do anything besides the paperwork. Greta’s heart had visibly sunk as well, and when Gwendal saw this, he too felt the dreariness in the atmosphere. Anissina gave him an unwavering look of confidence, and never once faltered at her words. Afraid she might pursue whatever she was thinking still more, Gwendal added, “There is no time for your experiments at this current moment, Anissina.”
“Nonsense,” she replied not even a second after he, himself, had finished. “His Majesty has appointed me his dance instructor in order to prepare for upcoming festivities. He is about to begin a lesson and can’t be bothered with matters of state.” Yuri and Greta brightened instantly at her words, both seeing triumph in view. Gwendal appeared clearly irritated with her objection. “And besides, you have so very graciously just volunteered to help me instruct them.” She pointed a thin finger triumphantly at him.
Gwendal’s face instantly filled with alarm; no doubt he was mulling over how that demand could be possibly life-threatening. Before he could come up with an excuse to run for it, and accomplish the task of bringing Yuri back to his duties at the same time, Anissina swaggered across the room and gripped him by the arm. He felt himself being helplessly pulled out into the hall. Anissina hollered a quick “Follow me” and led the other two throughout the castle, to the large party hall, with Gwendal dragged along with her. He muttered protests to her about the importance of the government affairs, but she retorted that the laws could wait a few hours, and that if His Majesty’s heart wasn’t in it, then not much would be accomplished anyway. He then tried to object that he himself did not have time for such frivolous amusements as dancing, but she just had to mention that Greta would be sincerely disappointed, and the thought of something so cute in tears made him at last consent.
“All right,” announced the red head when she arrived in the middle of the room, and finally released her childhood friend. “We shall begin in a moment.” She walked over to a servant and ordered that the royal musicians be brought in at His Majesty’s request. Once the group of men had arrived and began playing, she instructed Greta and Yuri on the positions of the leader and the follower. She verbally went through the movements of the dance. The dance began with the follower placing her, or perhaps his, hand over that of the leader. Both would take three steps away from each other, three steps together again, spin around once, and then walk together three steps forward, together three steps back, and lastly spin again. The entire dance repeated itself until the end of the music. She forced Gwendal to demonstrate with her, and eventually Yuri and Greta were laughing as they attempted to dance as well. They struggled to keep in pace with the music, and Yuri missed catching Greta’s hand several times when they came back together before the spin, but there were smiles on their faces and a pleasant mood filled the room. Over the course of an hour, they became much better at the traditional Demon dance and made it through the song without a single mistake.
At the end of the hour, Anissina dismissed the musicians, and told Yuri and Greta proudly that they now knew enough to practice on their own in the future. The sky had darkened outside and it would be soon time for dinner.
With a flushed face, Yuri said gratefully, “Thank you Anissina!” Greta echoed his thanks. He then turned to Gwendal and commented with a laugh, “You make such a silly dance look so dignified.” The older man caught his eye, but his expression didn’t change from the serious appearance he had worn throughout the hour.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to call the Demon dances silly,” he remarked. “Remember, their your traditions too now. And as King, you are expected to uphold our traditions. I believe that it will generally be expected for you to lead the first dance.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” apologized the boy, obviously a little embarrassed and uncomfortable. He turned to Greta, “Would you like to dance the first dance with me?”
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed.
“Actually,” interjected Anissina. “I think it would be much more proper to dance with your fiance.”
“I was afraid, you’d say that...” whined Yuri. A clear sigh of disappointed emitted from the little girl.
The arrangements for the King’s seventeenth birthday party ran smoothly, for the most part, in the following weeks. There was certain troubles that had Gunter balling throughout the castle about how his precious His Majesty’s birthday was to ruined do to a mistake of his, but with a soothing word from Yuri, and particular measures taken, everything was put back on track. Greta and Anissina had completed the princess’s dress. It had come out beautiful with lacy trim and precious beads stitched out to it. Greta was very proud of it, and Anissina was very proud at her teachings. Yuri had learned the dances necessary for the ball. He had nearly perfected not just the one Anissina had taught him, but the other four Gunter had pressured him to learn as well.
The guests had just begun to arrive at the castle and Yuri was welcoming them along with Conrad and Gunter. Wolfram was nearby, making sure that Yuri didn’t flirt with any of the beautiful noble women arriving. The orchestra was all ready in full swing, playing delightful music for the enjoyment of the guests. The night air was crisp, but not too chilly. The sky was clear with the moon shiny faintly in the distance. It was a fine night for a gathering. A general mood of mystery and excitement had fallen throughout the people in the castle. Everyone had enjoyed last year’s birthday of the King and couldn’t wait to find out what daring and interesting events could be held this year.
Anissina had not arrived yet at the festivities. She sat at her vanity, brushing out her long red hair, slowly and delicately. She looked at herself in the circular mirror. Her lips were painted a brilliant shade of red, and her lashes darkened to near black. Liner caused her eyes to stand out attractively against the red in her hair, and the white of her skin. There was only a hint of pink on her cheeks from blush. Her neck was decorated with a crystal shimmering choker and from her ears hung sparkling matching earrings. Her dress was a peachy pink that expanded in layers of material at the hips. Silky gloves enveloped her hands and arms. She looked stunning; it was undeniable that she looked beautiful. But still she couldn’t help but sigh that she was only beautiful.
There was a knock at the door. She bid the person to enter. Greta appeared at the door way, appearing adorable in her violet dress.
“Good evening, Greta,” Anissina welcomed warmly, as she placed a small tiara at the top of her ponytail.
The little girl walked over to the vanity and looked at the woman’s reflection in the mirror. “Wow! You look so pretty, Anissina!”
“Pretty, but not quite cute enough,” she muttered in a low voice before she knew what she had said.
Not hearing her words, Greta asked, “Can you make me pretty like you?”
A little taken back, Anissina laughed, “What nonsense is this? You look adorable. And besides, you are much to young for make up.” A small whine escaped the princess’s lips and her face filled with an irresistible sorrow. “Well, I suppose a little can’t hurt.” Giving in, she grabbed a container of light pink lipstick from a drawer in her vanity and spread it across the little girl’s bottom lip, and told her to rub her lips together. She added a small dab of blush as well. “There,” she said when she was done. “Now you’re beautiful. Remember.” Her tone became a little more serious. “Beauty can be a powerful tool of a woman.”
Greta looked at herself in the mirror and a smile came to her now shimmering lips. She giggled softly. She turned to Anissina and asked a question that shocked the older woman. “Are you going to dance with Gwendal?” The voice was innocent, enough, as well the question. No, it was not the question itself which was shocking, it was that the thought caused a mild blush to creep up on Anissina’s cheeks.
“I’m not sure,” she managed to say.
“I think you should. You looked so happy when you did.”
Anissina glanced at herself in the mirror and saw her face was becoming red. She reverted her eyes away from her reflection. Why was she reacting this way? She had danced with Gwendal and plenty of other men before at various parties throughout her life. She had refused to dance with plenty of men as well; all those suiters who had thought they’d win her over with a swirl. Why was suddenly the thought of dancing with Gwendal causing her to flush? “He is my friend; of course I’d be happy to dance with a friend.” That would have to do as her excuse--explanation--- to the child.
She rose from her chair in front of her vanity. “Now come along. You should have all ready joined His Majesty.” She led the child out the door and down the corridors to the great dance hall. The music could be heard throughout the castle and it became louder and louder as they approached the grand doors. A servant opened the doors to let them in, and a torrent of sound hit them. Inside was a garden of beautifully dressed men and women, even some humans were present. All were important figures representing the various regions of the Demon Kingdom.
As soon as the two entered the room, Cecilie caught sight of them and rushed over to them. “Oh, my,” she exclaimed. “You both look so beautiful!” She fussed over them for several minutes, raving all kinds of compliments. Greta explained that she helped make her dress and Cecilie praised her lovingly. Turning her attention back to Anissina, she gushed smoothly, “Maybe your find true love tonight.”
“I wouldn’t put much faith into that,” replied Anissina confidently.
“Well, you never know,” she sang. The music in the hall slowed. Gunter’s voice was heard throughout the room, announcing that the Demon King would soon lead the first dance of the night. Cecilie commented on how things were building up to be very exciting and how she hoped that she, herself was able to dance with His Majesty. She continued on with her thoughts on love, “I always think dances are perfect places to begin the pursuit of romance.” Anissina just gave her a small smile, completely sure that romance was not going to come to her tonight. She commented that perhaps a decent story could be made out of the night’s events.
Yuri walked over to the women, followed closely behind by the trio of Cecilie’s sons. Wolfram was vividly upset and was reprimanding Yuri as they approached. Anissina couldn’t make out the words of the bickering but smiled at the sight.
“I know, I know,” muttered Yuri to Wolfram, “But I all ready promised Greta.” The group stopped in front of the women. Yuri bent down to Greta. “Wow! You look so pretty! Your dress came out beautifully!” Wolfram straightened up and agreed that she looked very nice, and Gwendal told her dotingly that she looked cute. She smiled warmly at all the compliments. “You ready to dance with me?” Yuri asked lovingly, perhaps a little desperate.
“Yes!” she said, hugging him tightly. “And, Happy Birthday, Yuri!” He thanked her.
Wolfram’s expression softened instantly. “Oh, all right,” he said, relenting. Yuri took Greta’s hand and led her away. “But I get the second dance!” he hollered after them. He then folded his arms together in a huff.
Gunter announced that the Demon King would now lead the first dance with his daughter. There were a few “Aws” throughout the women present in the ballroom. The music rose in tempo and everyone made room in the center of the hall. All eyes fell on Yuri and Greta, swirling round to the movements that Anissina had taught them in the previous weeks. After the first dance ended, the rest of the guests were invited to join in the dances. Wolfram hurriedly walked over to Yuri, no doubt to demand the fulfillment of his one sided promise.
Cecilie squealed excitedly next to Anissina. “Come, Conrart, your dance with me, won’t you?” she nearly purred.
“Of course, Mother,” agreed Conrart warmly, as he took her hand.
“You dance with Anissina, okay, Gwen?” she said to her other son. He appeared a little shocked at the order, but nodded agreement to please his mother. Gwendal offered Anissina his arm, which she accepted. “Yay, this will be fun!” announced Celi. They all strolled out to the center of the room where the circle was forming for the dance and joined in it. The music started up again when most of the guests had completed the circle.
As they danced, Anissina noticed things she hadn’t before. Gwendal appeared suave and sophisticated when he was dancing. He seemed confident and strong, like always. It was as Yuri said, he did make such a silly dance appear dignified. He stood up tall and never made a mistake. Anissina found herself to be smiling. Maybe it was as Greta had said: she was happy to dance with Gwendal.
The night wore by quickly. There was much discussion throughout the hall and much more dancing. Anissina found herself to have danced with several men, but she couldn’t help but feel different when she had danced with Gwendal. Yet she ignored the sensation. She spent a great deal of her time observing, wondering what she could invent to make certain tasks easier for the women servants she witnessed busying about their duties. Greta came over to talk with her, there being few other children at the event. Soon the little girl became tired, and Anissina urged her to go to bed, promising to tell her a story.
She led the princess by the hand down the halls. The corridors were dark in the deeper parts of the castle and the music from the ball was only a quiet whisper. Candles lit the stone passageways, but an eerie feeling was in the air. There was the tapping of footprints on the cold floors before them. At first Anissina thought it was just a maid scurrying about a duty, but then she heard more footprints approaching. And then she saw the shadows.
Her grip tightened slightly on the little girl’s wrist. She pulled back on her hand, and was just about to turn around when a hand gripped her by the end of her ponytail and pulled her backwards. She stumbled in her high heels, silently cursing that a man must have invented such ridiculous shoes. Barely catching herself from falling over as her head was yanked downward, her fingers loosened around Greta’s arm. The little girl gasped loudly as she was pulled away by another dark figure, right out of Anissina’s hand. She tried desperately to grab the child yet again, but a sharp pain in her scalp stopped her cold and forced her chin up into the air. She reached for the top of her hair, trying to stop the pain from the pulling. She could see the neck of a man and the edge of his chin. And could tell from the upward pull of his skin that he was grinning.
She could hear Greta twisting and kicking in someone’s grip. Little struggling cries floated into the air. Anissina tried harder to get away, but couldn’t free herself from the man’s grip.
“Hush now,” said a deep voice. “You’re come back soon, that is, depending on how much your father thinks your worth.” He and the other men chuckled at their little joke.
“Let her go,” Anissina managed to choke out. She tried to kick at her captor but her foot got lost in her cushioned dress. She heard a laugh behind her, which was followed by another painful tug on her roots.
“Oh, we will,” the same voice said, “But first we need to get a whole lot of gold. This is repayment for what the Demon Kingdom did to our people.”
Anissina guessed they were humans and wondered what could have been done to them that they’d resort to ransom, but she didn’t put much thought into it. It was much more important to get free and get Greta to safety.
An order came, “Put her somewhere where she won’t get in the way.”
Two other men approached her, intimidating before her twisted form. They both grabbed her and began half lifting, half pushing her down the corridor. She screamed violently and struggled furiously to get away. She could hear Greta calling her name, and the fact that she couldn’t get free and save the child broke her heart. She heard a door open behind her and felt herself being shoved and stuffed into a closet. The door was quickly shut before she could recover and run back out. She heard it being bolted outside; heard the girl screaming; and heard the pounding of her own heart. The screaming became fainter as equally softening footprints scurried from the door, and as her heartbeat panged louder in her chest. She rushed to the black door, knocking over invisible things in the enclosed space. She banged on the door and screamed at the top of her lungs.
She cried. She cried. How could someone like her who prided herself on women’s independence be so completely helpless? Why did she have to get pinned like that? Why did she have to be so completely useless, so completely dependent? She should have been able to handle that. She hated the feeling; the feeling of being so weak; so completely and utterly weak. She wished that she had been stronger, that she was strong; that she could have protected herself and Greta. It had happened so fast and she had been completely overwhelmed. Why couldn’t she had reacted faster? She cried and cried until she was choking on her tears. She tried desperately to open the door, but she didn’t have the strength to break it down. Soon her attempts became weaker as she suffocated in her tears.
She wasn’t sure how long she was in that cold and dark room; the cloud of the dreary concentration of her weakness. After what seemed like hours, the door creaked open. The light caused her to squint as she had been in black for so long. A figure stood in the dim candlelight. She looked up at the intimidating shadow from her pitiful position on the ground.
“G-G-Gwendal,” she coughed when she recognized him. He bent down to her level, one knee on the ground. “G-Greta-” she began but he hushed her.
“I know,” he replied calmly. “The others are taking care of it.” There was a sorrow in his tone and she noted that he avoided direct mention of the incident.
The regret washed upon her again, and she throw herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his broad back and her fingers gripped his clothing tightly. He didn’t resist her and instead placed his own arms around her. She wept in his arms. Harder than she had before. She knew that makeup had formed inky streaks down her cheeks and that she looked completely dreadful. Her ponytail was half pulled out and tangled. She didn’t look cute or beautiful, but she didn’t care. She realized that she had wanted so long to hold him like this; she knew in that moment that some emotion deep within her had yearned to perform the action for a long time. Yet in that moment, she couldn’t think about that. She could only think how she was a failure; a failed heroine for Greta, a failed leader of the Women’s Movement, and a failure to her own self. She hated the taste of regret that filled her mouth. The water poured from her eyes like a waterfall.
She couldn’t remember what happened after that. She awoke in her bed, on top of the sheets and comforter, still wearing her ballroom dress. She could feel that the skin on her cheeks was tight from the stained tears from the night before. She looked vaguely around her room, and found that it was empty. She supposed that she had wept herself to sleep. In an instant she remembered about Greta. She stumbled out of her bed and was crossing the room to the door, when it suddenly flew open and Gwendal stepped inside. She stopped abruptly, a few feet from him.
She was about to speak, to ask the question that was causing her to feel with pain, when he spoke before she could utter a word.
“I have received word that Yuri, Wolfram, and Conrart have successfully retrieved Greta,” he said in his normal stoic, calm voice.
A wave of relief swept over Anissina. “Really?” she managed to say. He nodded. Tears of happiness came to the corner of her eyes and she smiled slightly.
Gwendal turned to leave, but her voice stopped him. She had to ask a question, one that had just worked it’s way into her mind. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I didn’t think it would be wise to have a trio of emotionally affected people pursuing the situation,” he replied after a moment. He reached for the door and stepped out.
Anissina knew that may have been a factor, but there was something in his tone that made her know that was not the complete truth. There was a tenderness to it that she had rarely heard; never heard directed towards her before. Had he stayed because he was worried about her?
“Thank you,” she whispered as the door clanked shut.
Finish
I didn't finish in time, but here's my entry. Maybe you can review here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5271497/1/The_Taste_of_Regret
Characters/Pairings: Anissina, (slight Anissina/Gwendal)
Word Count: (for fanfics*) 5,886
Rating: G
Any Warnings: no
Theme/Prompt being used:Anissina, birthday
Late entry....
.
The Taste of Regret
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh or any of the characters.
"Choose the fabric you would like to use for your new dress, Greta," stated Anissina as she swept her hand over the assorted fabrics that servants had brought in at her request. The many fabrics were neatly folded up in small squares, just large enough to display the patterns and textures of each, but at the same time petite enough to allow maximum usage of the surface area of the table on which they covered. Greta's eyes roamed over the neat little bundles, casting over the soft velvets, the silky satins, the flowery and swirling patterned brocades. Greta's dress was to be formal for the upcoming celebration in honor of Yuri's seventeenth birthday, which was to be held in the castle in a few short weeks. A huge ball was planned by Gunter along with other flamboyant ostentations. It was only natural that Greta have a new and exceedingly lovely dress for the occasion; it was even more necessary as she was the daughter of His Majesty.
Greta pointed to a dark purple brocade with gold flowers embroidered on its surface. "I like this one," she said simply. She looked up at Anissina with a smile. "Do you think Yuri will like it?" Her eyes wavered with concern and hope.
Anissina picked up the material and inspected it, turning it over so her eyes caught all parts of the revealed fabric. "Yes, I am sure His Majesty will be quite pleased. It is a lovely fabric. Violet and gold are the colors of royalty, in fact." She bent down to the little girl with a large ruby-lipped smile on her face. "Besides, he'll love it just because you're the one wearing it." Greta smiled back.
The older woman straightened up. "Any man with common sense would like it. It is a shame that we women must train men to behave properly. I assure you that His Majesty needs no training; no, he has learned how to treat a woman. But some men need to be taught to worship women when they ought; they need to learn when it is essential to give a proper compliment even if it is a lie, and when to keep their mouths otherwise shut. And in order to advance woman as a gender equal, or in my personal opinion, superior to men, we must course them to behave in an acceptable decorum. I often think that this must be taught from infancy to produce the desired results, and I have been telling my fellow women this at our meetings."
With a blank expression, Greta stared up at Anissina. She was completely overtaken with the amount of information that had poured out of Anissina's mouth, but she knew that whatever this woman had said was extremely important; everything Anissina said was important; a great lesson, especially for women. The red head had told her so herself.
Anissina's expression softened and a slight smile stretched across her lips. “I am saying that men should always say a woman is beautiful, and should say that no matter what she is wearing,” she said gently. Greta nodded in understanding. She continued in a softer tone, “After all, women go to such lengths to please men by appearing pretty for them. A foolish thing to do, but it is done. Men, by common courtesy, should appreciate her efforts and applaud her with such a compliment.” Her voice lowered and lowered with each word until she was near whisper at the last syllable. After speaking, she remained silent for several moments and stared off thoughtfully. A look of slight sorrow seemed intertwined in her features. The little girl couldn’t help but wonder what her companion was thinking about. What thought, indeed, could have Anissina appear so down-hearted?
But in the next few moments the sorrow was completely gone, and in its place was Anissina’s usual vivacious attitude. She hooked the purple material over the bend of her arm and turned to a near by cabinet. She strutted over to it and opened the drawer. She looked inside at the contents of trims, which included lace, little pink fabric flowers and accompanying little green leaves weaved together in strings, crystal-like beads strung up in intricate designs, and many more in beautiful designs. She swooped up a particular white lace with small color flowers embroidered at the edges. “Do you want lace on your dress? What do you think about this design?” she asked. She lowered the bundle down to the eyes of the small girl. A long piece hung out between her fingers of her opened hand.
Greta glanced at the pretty trim and nodded happily. “That’s so pretty!” she exclaimed.
“Good, then we can begin.” Anissina began walking to the large table in the center of the room that housed a sewing machine. She thought of the invention she had made to make sewing easier for women, but then remembered how unsuccessful it had been when a man had powered it; the stitches had been a disaster. Greta followed in suite behind her. “Do you still remember your measurements?” she asked the child. She then proceeded to spreading the fabric across the table and putting the trim in the corner for later use.
“Yes!” answered Greta, as she rummaged in her pocket. “I have it written down here,” she added as she produced a folded piece of paper.
“Let’s have a look.” She bent down as Greta unfolded the paper. Her eyes glanced over the numbers and their corresponding body parts. “Okay, then, it’s time to begin your next lesson in sewing. It’s a very important skill for every woman to know, nobles and peasants alike. Since most men choose not to lean such a skill, it is an opportunity for we women to prove that we have the ability to be superior to men.”
“But Gwendal sews,” interjected Greta.
“Yes, but he has been learning for decades and, you, less than a year, and all ready your skill is greater.” They both chuckled lightly at this. “It’s just proof that women have some skills that come easier to them, and at the same time there are skills that are harder for women to develop, such as fighting. However, that only mens that both women and men need to work to develop these skills they lack, and only then can we really talk about equality.”
They two made small talk as they labored over the dress. Anissina made sure that Greta was involved in the entire process. After all, how was she to learn if she did not actively participate herself? Using Greta’s measurements, a pattern was produced. They cut the individual pieces out and pinned the fabric where was necessary. They sewed the many pieces together, being careful to make straight lines. It was an ordeal for the entire day, but Anissina enjoyed spending time with the little girl. If she was not working on an invention she most liked to be spending time with Greta, teaching her to be a proper woman. Of course, she did miss the excitement, the challenge, and the mystery of inventing, but she knew quite well that if she spent all her time experimenting then it would not be as pleasurable.
The dress began to take shape as it was slowly stitched together. It was only missing a sleeve and the trim when His Majesty himself entered the room, appearing slightly flushed. Anissina couldn’t help but smile when she saw the look of relief that washed over his face as he glanced at Greta back to the open door and then back at his daughter once again. She could guess that he was escaping from his duties in the office, and most likely was being pursued by Gunter or Gwendal, or perhaps, both. A smile warmed his visage as he walked over to Greta who had just looked up from seam she was ripping out.
She brightened instantly. “Yuri!” she exclaimed. She quickly swooped up her nearly complete dress and carried the bundle with her as she sprinted over to her father. “Yuri! Yuri! Look at my dress!” She released the bundle in front of him and gripped it from the shoulders. “I’m almost done with it,” she added proudly.
“Wow!” praised Yuri whole-heartedly, as he intently looked over the dress. “That’s really well made, Greta!” The child smiled wide at the compliment. “And it will be even more beautiful when you’re finished and it’s on you. “ He smiled as he spoke, unable to not return her smile. He sighed happily, “I can’t wait to see my little girl dancing and looking so beautiful.” She giggled cheerfully. “You’re growing up so fast! Just promise me you’re stay away from boys at the party. They’re nothing but trouble I tell you!” There was water in his eyes now and a stern paternal expression befell his features.
She laughed, “You’re the one growing up fast. It’s your birthday, Yuri. And I don’t know how to dance.”
“I don’t either, at least, not the Demon Kingdom dances. We should learn together.” He bent down to her eye level as he added, “Would you like that?”
Her smile enlarged even more. “Yes, I’d like that very much!”
He smiled wider as well. “Now we need to find an instructor. I think Gunter was planning on teaching me.”
“That won’t be necessary, Your Majesty,” interjected Anissina, finally speaking after silently watching events unfold from her sitting position at the sewing table. She stood up and calmly, but confidently walked over to the pair. “I would be happy to instruct the both of you. I think a matter such as this---well I think most matters-- ought to be left up to a woman for proper handling. I have been practicing these dances of our kingdom since I was a child, and you very well know that’s life times in your world, Your Majesty.”
“Wow! That would be great! Thank you Anissina!” sputtered the king, looking up at her. “Right, Greta?” he asked, turning his eyes back to his daughter. She nodded excitedly. Greta couldn’t have been more delighted to dance with Yuri.
“Wonderful,” stated Anissina. “Now we just need--aha, Gwendal, you arrived just at the perfect time.” Her eyes fell to the doorway. The other two turned around to see Gwendal, shocked and with an unmistakable look of fright washing across his visage, taking a step back out of the room.
He spoke very quickly, desperately trying to avoid whatever he might have just walked himself into. “I am just here to see to it that His Majesty returns to his duty of signing the official documents currently waiting for him at his desk,” Gwendal said, quickly returning to his stoic and confident demeanor. A feeling of gloom fall upon Yuri, who would much rather like to learn to dance than return to his paperwork. Quite frankly, he’d much rather do anything besides the paperwork. Greta’s heart had visibly sunk as well, and when Gwendal saw this, he too felt the dreariness in the atmosphere. Anissina gave him an unwavering look of confidence, and never once faltered at her words. Afraid she might pursue whatever she was thinking still more, Gwendal added, “There is no time for your experiments at this current moment, Anissina.”
“Nonsense,” she replied not even a second after he, himself, had finished. “His Majesty has appointed me his dance instructor in order to prepare for upcoming festivities. He is about to begin a lesson and can’t be bothered with matters of state.” Yuri and Greta brightened instantly at her words, both seeing triumph in view. Gwendal appeared clearly irritated with her objection. “And besides, you have so very graciously just volunteered to help me instruct them.” She pointed a thin finger triumphantly at him.
Gwendal’s face instantly filled with alarm; no doubt he was mulling over how that demand could be possibly life-threatening. Before he could come up with an excuse to run for it, and accomplish the task of bringing Yuri back to his duties at the same time, Anissina swaggered across the room and gripped him by the arm. He felt himself being helplessly pulled out into the hall. Anissina hollered a quick “Follow me” and led the other two throughout the castle, to the large party hall, with Gwendal dragged along with her. He muttered protests to her about the importance of the government affairs, but she retorted that the laws could wait a few hours, and that if His Majesty’s heart wasn’t in it, then not much would be accomplished anyway. He then tried to object that he himself did not have time for such frivolous amusements as dancing, but she just had to mention that Greta would be sincerely disappointed, and the thought of something so cute in tears made him at last consent.
“All right,” announced the red head when she arrived in the middle of the room, and finally released her childhood friend. “We shall begin in a moment.” She walked over to a servant and ordered that the royal musicians be brought in at His Majesty’s request. Once the group of men had arrived and began playing, she instructed Greta and Yuri on the positions of the leader and the follower. She verbally went through the movements of the dance. The dance began with the follower placing her, or perhaps his, hand over that of the leader. Both would take three steps away from each other, three steps together again, spin around once, and then walk together three steps forward, together three steps back, and lastly spin again. The entire dance repeated itself until the end of the music. She forced Gwendal to demonstrate with her, and eventually Yuri and Greta were laughing as they attempted to dance as well. They struggled to keep in pace with the music, and Yuri missed catching Greta’s hand several times when they came back together before the spin, but there were smiles on their faces and a pleasant mood filled the room. Over the course of an hour, they became much better at the traditional Demon dance and made it through the song without a single mistake.
At the end of the hour, Anissina dismissed the musicians, and told Yuri and Greta proudly that they now knew enough to practice on their own in the future. The sky had darkened outside and it would be soon time for dinner.
With a flushed face, Yuri said gratefully, “Thank you Anissina!” Greta echoed his thanks. He then turned to Gwendal and commented with a laugh, “You make such a silly dance look so dignified.” The older man caught his eye, but his expression didn’t change from the serious appearance he had worn throughout the hour.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to call the Demon dances silly,” he remarked. “Remember, their your traditions too now. And as King, you are expected to uphold our traditions. I believe that it will generally be expected for you to lead the first dance.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” apologized the boy, obviously a little embarrassed and uncomfortable. He turned to Greta, “Would you like to dance the first dance with me?”
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed.
“Actually,” interjected Anissina. “I think it would be much more proper to dance with your fiance.”
“I was afraid, you’d say that...” whined Yuri. A clear sigh of disappointed emitted from the little girl.
The arrangements for the King’s seventeenth birthday party ran smoothly, for the most part, in the following weeks. There was certain troubles that had Gunter balling throughout the castle about how his precious His Majesty’s birthday was to ruined do to a mistake of his, but with a soothing word from Yuri, and particular measures taken, everything was put back on track. Greta and Anissina had completed the princess’s dress. It had come out beautiful with lacy trim and precious beads stitched out to it. Greta was very proud of it, and Anissina was very proud at her teachings. Yuri had learned the dances necessary for the ball. He had nearly perfected not just the one Anissina had taught him, but the other four Gunter had pressured him to learn as well.
The guests had just begun to arrive at the castle and Yuri was welcoming them along with Conrad and Gunter. Wolfram was nearby, making sure that Yuri didn’t flirt with any of the beautiful noble women arriving. The orchestra was all ready in full swing, playing delightful music for the enjoyment of the guests. The night air was crisp, but not too chilly. The sky was clear with the moon shiny faintly in the distance. It was a fine night for a gathering. A general mood of mystery and excitement had fallen throughout the people in the castle. Everyone had enjoyed last year’s birthday of the King and couldn’t wait to find out what daring and interesting events could be held this year.
Anissina had not arrived yet at the festivities. She sat at her vanity, brushing out her long red hair, slowly and delicately. She looked at herself in the circular mirror. Her lips were painted a brilliant shade of red, and her lashes darkened to near black. Liner caused her eyes to stand out attractively against the red in her hair, and the white of her skin. There was only a hint of pink on her cheeks from blush. Her neck was decorated with a crystal shimmering choker and from her ears hung sparkling matching earrings. Her dress was a peachy pink that expanded in layers of material at the hips. Silky gloves enveloped her hands and arms. She looked stunning; it was undeniable that she looked beautiful. But still she couldn’t help but sigh that she was only beautiful.
There was a knock at the door. She bid the person to enter. Greta appeared at the door way, appearing adorable in her violet dress.
“Good evening, Greta,” Anissina welcomed warmly, as she placed a small tiara at the top of her ponytail.
The little girl walked over to the vanity and looked at the woman’s reflection in the mirror. “Wow! You look so pretty, Anissina!”
“Pretty, but not quite cute enough,” she muttered in a low voice before she knew what she had said.
Not hearing her words, Greta asked, “Can you make me pretty like you?”
A little taken back, Anissina laughed, “What nonsense is this? You look adorable. And besides, you are much to young for make up.” A small whine escaped the princess’s lips and her face filled with an irresistible sorrow. “Well, I suppose a little can’t hurt.” Giving in, she grabbed a container of light pink lipstick from a drawer in her vanity and spread it across the little girl’s bottom lip, and told her to rub her lips together. She added a small dab of blush as well. “There,” she said when she was done. “Now you’re beautiful. Remember.” Her tone became a little more serious. “Beauty can be a powerful tool of a woman.”
Greta looked at herself in the mirror and a smile came to her now shimmering lips. She giggled softly. She turned to Anissina and asked a question that shocked the older woman. “Are you going to dance with Gwendal?” The voice was innocent, enough, as well the question. No, it was not the question itself which was shocking, it was that the thought caused a mild blush to creep up on Anissina’s cheeks.
“I’m not sure,” she managed to say.
“I think you should. You looked so happy when you did.”
Anissina glanced at herself in the mirror and saw her face was becoming red. She reverted her eyes away from her reflection. Why was she reacting this way? She had danced with Gwendal and plenty of other men before at various parties throughout her life. She had refused to dance with plenty of men as well; all those suiters who had thought they’d win her over with a swirl. Why was suddenly the thought of dancing with Gwendal causing her to flush? “He is my friend; of course I’d be happy to dance with a friend.” That would have to do as her excuse--explanation--- to the child.
She rose from her chair in front of her vanity. “Now come along. You should have all ready joined His Majesty.” She led the child out the door and down the corridors to the great dance hall. The music could be heard throughout the castle and it became louder and louder as they approached the grand doors. A servant opened the doors to let them in, and a torrent of sound hit them. Inside was a garden of beautifully dressed men and women, even some humans were present. All were important figures representing the various regions of the Demon Kingdom.
As soon as the two entered the room, Cecilie caught sight of them and rushed over to them. “Oh, my,” she exclaimed. “You both look so beautiful!” She fussed over them for several minutes, raving all kinds of compliments. Greta explained that she helped make her dress and Cecilie praised her lovingly. Turning her attention back to Anissina, she gushed smoothly, “Maybe your find true love tonight.”
“I wouldn’t put much faith into that,” replied Anissina confidently.
“Well, you never know,” she sang. The music in the hall slowed. Gunter’s voice was heard throughout the room, announcing that the Demon King would soon lead the first dance of the night. Cecilie commented on how things were building up to be very exciting and how she hoped that she, herself was able to dance with His Majesty. She continued on with her thoughts on love, “I always think dances are perfect places to begin the pursuit of romance.” Anissina just gave her a small smile, completely sure that romance was not going to come to her tonight. She commented that perhaps a decent story could be made out of the night’s events.
Yuri walked over to the women, followed closely behind by the trio of Cecilie’s sons. Wolfram was vividly upset and was reprimanding Yuri as they approached. Anissina couldn’t make out the words of the bickering but smiled at the sight.
“I know, I know,” muttered Yuri to Wolfram, “But I all ready promised Greta.” The group stopped in front of the women. Yuri bent down to Greta. “Wow! You look so pretty! Your dress came out beautifully!” Wolfram straightened up and agreed that she looked very nice, and Gwendal told her dotingly that she looked cute. She smiled warmly at all the compliments. “You ready to dance with me?” Yuri asked lovingly, perhaps a little desperate.
“Yes!” she said, hugging him tightly. “And, Happy Birthday, Yuri!” He thanked her.
Wolfram’s expression softened instantly. “Oh, all right,” he said, relenting. Yuri took Greta’s hand and led her away. “But I get the second dance!” he hollered after them. He then folded his arms together in a huff.
Gunter announced that the Demon King would now lead the first dance with his daughter. There were a few “Aws” throughout the women present in the ballroom. The music rose in tempo and everyone made room in the center of the hall. All eyes fell on Yuri and Greta, swirling round to the movements that Anissina had taught them in the previous weeks. After the first dance ended, the rest of the guests were invited to join in the dances. Wolfram hurriedly walked over to Yuri, no doubt to demand the fulfillment of his one sided promise.
Cecilie squealed excitedly next to Anissina. “Come, Conrart, your dance with me, won’t you?” she nearly purred.
“Of course, Mother,” agreed Conrart warmly, as he took her hand.
“You dance with Anissina, okay, Gwen?” she said to her other son. He appeared a little shocked at the order, but nodded agreement to please his mother. Gwendal offered Anissina his arm, which she accepted. “Yay, this will be fun!” announced Celi. They all strolled out to the center of the room where the circle was forming for the dance and joined in it. The music started up again when most of the guests had completed the circle.
As they danced, Anissina noticed things she hadn’t before. Gwendal appeared suave and sophisticated when he was dancing. He seemed confident and strong, like always. It was as Yuri said, he did make such a silly dance appear dignified. He stood up tall and never made a mistake. Anissina found herself to be smiling. Maybe it was as Greta had said: she was happy to dance with Gwendal.
The night wore by quickly. There was much discussion throughout the hall and much more dancing. Anissina found herself to have danced with several men, but she couldn’t help but feel different when she had danced with Gwendal. Yet she ignored the sensation. She spent a great deal of her time observing, wondering what she could invent to make certain tasks easier for the women servants she witnessed busying about their duties. Greta came over to talk with her, there being few other children at the event. Soon the little girl became tired, and Anissina urged her to go to bed, promising to tell her a story.
She led the princess by the hand down the halls. The corridors were dark in the deeper parts of the castle and the music from the ball was only a quiet whisper. Candles lit the stone passageways, but an eerie feeling was in the air. There was the tapping of footprints on the cold floors before them. At first Anissina thought it was just a maid scurrying about a duty, but then she heard more footprints approaching. And then she saw the shadows.
Her grip tightened slightly on the little girl’s wrist. She pulled back on her hand, and was just about to turn around when a hand gripped her by the end of her ponytail and pulled her backwards. She stumbled in her high heels, silently cursing that a man must have invented such ridiculous shoes. Barely catching herself from falling over as her head was yanked downward, her fingers loosened around Greta’s arm. The little girl gasped loudly as she was pulled away by another dark figure, right out of Anissina’s hand. She tried desperately to grab the child yet again, but a sharp pain in her scalp stopped her cold and forced her chin up into the air. She reached for the top of her hair, trying to stop the pain from the pulling. She could see the neck of a man and the edge of his chin. And could tell from the upward pull of his skin that he was grinning.
She could hear Greta twisting and kicking in someone’s grip. Little struggling cries floated into the air. Anissina tried harder to get away, but couldn’t free herself from the man’s grip.
“Hush now,” said a deep voice. “You’re come back soon, that is, depending on how much your father thinks your worth.” He and the other men chuckled at their little joke.
“Let her go,” Anissina managed to choke out. She tried to kick at her captor but her foot got lost in her cushioned dress. She heard a laugh behind her, which was followed by another painful tug on her roots.
“Oh, we will,” the same voice said, “But first we need to get a whole lot of gold. This is repayment for what the Demon Kingdom did to our people.”
Anissina guessed they were humans and wondered what could have been done to them that they’d resort to ransom, but she didn’t put much thought into it. It was much more important to get free and get Greta to safety.
An order came, “Put her somewhere where she won’t get in the way.”
Two other men approached her, intimidating before her twisted form. They both grabbed her and began half lifting, half pushing her down the corridor. She screamed violently and struggled furiously to get away. She could hear Greta calling her name, and the fact that she couldn’t get free and save the child broke her heart. She heard a door open behind her and felt herself being shoved and stuffed into a closet. The door was quickly shut before she could recover and run back out. She heard it being bolted outside; heard the girl screaming; and heard the pounding of her own heart. The screaming became fainter as equally softening footprints scurried from the door, and as her heartbeat panged louder in her chest. She rushed to the black door, knocking over invisible things in the enclosed space. She banged on the door and screamed at the top of her lungs.
She cried. She cried. How could someone like her who prided herself on women’s independence be so completely helpless? Why did she have to get pinned like that? Why did she have to be so completely useless, so completely dependent? She should have been able to handle that. She hated the feeling; the feeling of being so weak; so completely and utterly weak. She wished that she had been stronger, that she was strong; that she could have protected herself and Greta. It had happened so fast and she had been completely overwhelmed. Why couldn’t she had reacted faster? She cried and cried until she was choking on her tears. She tried desperately to open the door, but she didn’t have the strength to break it down. Soon her attempts became weaker as she suffocated in her tears.
She wasn’t sure how long she was in that cold and dark room; the cloud of the dreary concentration of her weakness. After what seemed like hours, the door creaked open. The light caused her to squint as she had been in black for so long. A figure stood in the dim candlelight. She looked up at the intimidating shadow from her pitiful position on the ground.
“G-G-Gwendal,” she coughed when she recognized him. He bent down to her level, one knee on the ground. “G-Greta-” she began but he hushed her.
“I know,” he replied calmly. “The others are taking care of it.” There was a sorrow in his tone and she noted that he avoided direct mention of the incident.
The regret washed upon her again, and she throw herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his broad back and her fingers gripped his clothing tightly. He didn’t resist her and instead placed his own arms around her. She wept in his arms. Harder than she had before. She knew that makeup had formed inky streaks down her cheeks and that she looked completely dreadful. Her ponytail was half pulled out and tangled. She didn’t look cute or beautiful, but she didn’t care. She realized that she had wanted so long to hold him like this; she knew in that moment that some emotion deep within her had yearned to perform the action for a long time. Yet in that moment, she couldn’t think about that. She could only think how she was a failure; a failed heroine for Greta, a failed leader of the Women’s Movement, and a failure to her own self. She hated the taste of regret that filled her mouth. The water poured from her eyes like a waterfall.
She couldn’t remember what happened after that. She awoke in her bed, on top of the sheets and comforter, still wearing her ballroom dress. She could feel that the skin on her cheeks was tight from the stained tears from the night before. She looked vaguely around her room, and found that it was empty. She supposed that she had wept herself to sleep. In an instant she remembered about Greta. She stumbled out of her bed and was crossing the room to the door, when it suddenly flew open and Gwendal stepped inside. She stopped abruptly, a few feet from him.
She was about to speak, to ask the question that was causing her to feel with pain, when he spoke before she could utter a word.
“I have received word that Yuri, Wolfram, and Conrart have successfully retrieved Greta,” he said in his normal stoic, calm voice.
A wave of relief swept over Anissina. “Really?” she managed to say. He nodded. Tears of happiness came to the corner of her eyes and she smiled slightly.
Gwendal turned to leave, but her voice stopped him. She had to ask a question, one that had just worked it’s way into her mind. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I didn’t think it would be wise to have a trio of emotionally affected people pursuing the situation,” he replied after a moment. He reached for the door and stepped out.
Anissina knew that may have been a factor, but there was something in his tone that made her know that was not the complete truth. There was a tenderness to it that she had rarely heard; never heard directed towards her before. Had he stayed because he was worried about her?
“Thank you,” she whispered as the door clanked shut.
Finish
I didn't finish in time, but here's my entry. Maybe you can review here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5271497/1/The_Taste_of_Regret