[Kris/Victoria] In Due Time, PG-13, Part 01/11 (in celebration)
Pairing: Victoria Song Qian x Kris Wu Yifan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: 1800's!AU, Angst, Romance
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the writing.
Summary: It is the year of the mid eighteen hundreds. Victoria, daughter of a fallen vidame, is reluctantly married to Kris, the witty son of a respected Count. Obligated to her now conjoined life, Victoria must learn how to become a proper wife, winding her into a journey that brings out not only the best in her, but also her husband’s own chivalries.
Warning: Un-beta'd.
It is from the mouths of her maids that she hears of the words being spoken about her in the pension.
“They are much delighted in the fact that you are still not impregnated ever since your arrival to the pension,” an elderly maid informs Victoria. “Many of them believe the young master has already lost favor in you.”
“What had convinced them he was ever interested in me to begin with?” Victoria muses, flipping another page over in the novel she had been reading ever since the spread of daylight in the morning hours.
The elder maid stops her dusting, eyes filled with thought. “It may have been the time the young master spoke up for you against the Count.”
“Oh?” Victoria wonders. “Kris did such a thing?”
“Once or twice,” the maid laughs, poking fun at her young Madame. Victoria gives her a playful look of disapproval, to which the elder dismisses. “In all seriousness, it appears that the young master has taken a tendency of protecting your name in the house as of late.”
Victoria nods weakly. “Is that not what every husband does for his wife?”
“Should that not also be what a wife does for her husband?” The elder replies without much thought.
Although the maid had no peculiar intention behind her words, Victoria is shaken by her comment. She admits, to her own dismay, that she is much more simply just company rather than a wife to her husband, but is that in any way wrong?
To Victoria, Kris is a somewhat materialistic existence-he is her home, he is her shelter; he brings her clothing from trips to the city shops and he buys her souvenirs if he leaves on a business run for days at a time.
There was only one evening in which they have ever spent together as a true couple, but already the morning after the next they behaved as though it had never happened at all.
Kris had apologized profusely the moment he sobered up, blaming it on the pressure his father impended upon him and the alcohol he had turned to for comfort. Although she knew, quite confidently, that he consumed no alcohol that evening, Victoria did not argue.
Then Kris, for whatever reason of his own, blames it partially on the actions of her own-he blames Victoria for fooling around with their gardener, to which Victoria accuses him of liking said gardener, and things take a turn for the worse until Victoria locks herself up in the library for hours on end and Kris comes searching for her with a tray of dinner.
Ever since, Kris has become much more attentive of her needs and Victoria becomes much more subservient to his beckons, if only to put on an act to the rest of their family to see.
And so life goes on, as would the life of any other, while the winter snow begins descending from the vast, white skies and the streets are slowly coated in a blanket of fluffy and cloudlike mounds, drawn into by the arms and legs of young children in the shape of tiny angels.
Store owners and many homes play Christmas tunes, the songs blaring on the streets as hearty greetings are thrown from residence to residence in light of joy and harmony. The decorated trees are tall and beautiful, everything that a holiday should be, but Victoria seldom is seen outside of their pension doors.
“Is there anywhere you would like to go?” Kris asks, one leg crossed over the other at the tea table in their shared bedroom.
Victoria pretends to think it over but shakes her head. “Not in particular.”
“Is there truly nowhere you would like to go, or do you just prefer not to go with me?” Kris probes her, horribly unaware of her dilemma. The couple shares a brief look, to which Victoria cuts off short with a scoff. Her husband is slightly bemused by her reaction.
She sets aside her knitting tools and lifts the comforter from her thighs.
Kris raises a brow. “Where are you going?”
“Hot chocolate,” Victoria replies. “I’ve got to find some way to join in on the holiday spirits, don’t I?”
He laughs, catching up to her at the door and offering his arm. “Quite the Grinch, aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t always,” his wife tells him, taking it rightfully, “I don’t recall when it was I began to hate Christmas.”
Except, that was a lie and Victoria was well aware that she wasn’t being honest. Given any year before this, Victoria was always the happiest when it came to the holidays.
Holidays were about the gifts, the celebrations, the unions of family and friends; holidays were about happiness, love, care and consideration. Of all the things that a holiday are supposed to be, they are most importantly a time to be grateful for life and all that life brings.
Yet, nowadays Victoria, at various points in time, was not.
“What was your childhood like, Kris?” She asks.
The tall and handsome boy peers down at her, but Victoria is still looking straight ahead, watching the seemingly endless hall of their large walkway gradually grow smaller. He takes a soft breath, placing a hand over Victoria’s, which is holding his arm.
“Was it filled with lots of fun? Did you have a lot of friends-know a lot of people? How many songs did you sing and how often did you dance?” Victoria continued asking. “No,” she shakes her head, “what I mean to ask is really this: did you foresee a future like this when you were a child, being married to a girl you’ve never even met until just before the day of our ceremony?”
Kris listens to all of her questions, organizes them in his head, and answers them one by one.
“My childhood consisted of studies and lessons; fun was never in the question. I had a few friends, of which a couple still remain, but I did know a lot of people who no longer appear in my life. Songs were never a part of my agenda and dances were seldom, unless it was a class I was specifically assigned.”
This life-Kris’s life-sounds nothing like hers.
Victoria hears all his answers, yet, the answer she anticipated most never did come.
Christmas was a holiday to celebrate in appreciation; it is the birth of Christ, the icon that many people worship and live for. Victoria was never a religious lady, but she believed in celebration. Kris, though, did not seem to share same sentiments such as her own.
The dining table is a setting which permits silence. Therefore, the dining table is where Victoria feels most at ease when she is surrounded by the people she now identifies as her family.
“Have more broccolis,” her mother in law would urge, passing down the bowls of vegetables to a quiet and reserved Victoria, “the cole slaw is very fresh today, too.”
Politely, Victoria smiles and nods and accepts the offerings, until Kris realizes how she barely even wants to touch the fork to the food of her servings. “I think that’s quite enough, mother,” he decides to help her out, “Victoria can’t stomach so much food at once.”
“Already so familiar with your wife,” his mother grins, very much approving of his consideration for his other half. “I didn’t think such a day would come for you, Kris.”
“Mother,” Kris shakes his head.
His mother then just shrugs and returns to eating, silence once again dawning at the table. Signor Wu is the first to excuse himself once he’s finished with his plate, rushing back to his study to file through more documents and rummage through more action plans.
After the count has left, the rest of the table is much more at ease.
“Have the two of you planned anything romantic for this coming winter?”
Victoria keeps her eyes locked on her hands resting in her lap, afraid to meet eyes with her mother in law’s sister. Under the table, she kicks Kris’s foot. “No, not as of yet, Aunty,” Kris stutters.
His mother frowns. “You should take Victoria on a trip up to the cabins, Kris,” she says, “your poor wife is always locked up in this house of ours; I’m sure she’d appreciate some time out.”
“If I co-“
Kris doesn’t allow his wife to finish her sentence. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea, mother.”
After dinner, Victoria helplessly returns to her chamber and begins knitting again. Such practice takes patience, but her patience is honestly running very thin. Hours later, Kris joins her, sliding onto the other side of the bed after changing into his nightwear.
“Why wouldn’t you let me speak?” She asks.
Her husband rolls around to face her, holding his head up with his elbow on the pillow. “If I allowed you to ask permission to return home, hostility would spur between you and my mother.”
“Why?” Victoria wants to know.
“Because you are a part of our family now,” Kris replies simply, making himself comfortable. “What use do you have for returning to a home that is no longer yours?”
When winter green fades beneath the many layers of white snow, Victoria feels as though her heart is also being buried in her core with it. Outside of her windows she can see the grass and trees becoming less and less visible; within her, she can feel her heartbeat becoming less and less lively.
He takes her to parties, to balls, to meet with the many people associated to the Count in ways Victoria was less than interested in.
They see her as the beautiful and understanding wife, the other half that makes Kris whole, because Kris can smile at ease and hold her hand without a second doubt, but they are all wrong.
As Kris holds her hand, she feels him slipping further away from her. Not that he was ever within her grasp to begin with. Whilst she wonders, she surveys the grand hall, the glamorous chandelier, and the handsome faces that accompany them today.
One of which, in particular, seems to be surveying her own.
“Your wife is truly a beauty,” Suho compliments, “it is a pity that you only show her off at official events, Kris.”
Curtsying at the man, Victoria smiles shyly and glances at her husband, who is staring down at her with wonder in his eyes. It is as though her beauty is a new revelation to him, but it is not-they both know of that much.
An actor will simply never stop acting, though.
“I just don’t want to make her uncomfortable,” Kris explains.
Victoria tries not to scoff, but Suho seems to read it in her eyes. “Victoria seems more than at ease, if I do say so. I’m sure she hasn’t lacked experience in social gatherings as a child, either.”
For whatever reason, Suho continues to gambit the conversation until Kris becomes slightly uncomfortable, which, in turns, seems to amuse Victoria. She finds great interest in the man; the way Suho stands, the way he holds his glass of wine, the way he smiles and his lips crook into a slight smirk.
It doesn’t take a genius to know that Suho is not a man to be trusted easily.
Eventually, Kris slips off into the crowd when Suho refuses to give up on their conversations so easily, leaving Victoria behind while he promises to be back soon. Suho takes the chance to slip beside her in the crowded conference, raising his glass and smiling at the many people passing them by.
“I’m hoping you are not disturbed by my constant mischievous behavior, milady,” Suho says, “Kris has always just made it so easy.”
Victoria chuckles, “Not at all, milord.”
“It may seem ridiculous of me to have to request this myself,” Suho grins, continuing to greet people that Victoria cannot be sure he truly recognizes, “but I’m hoping you, and Kris, of course, will invite me over for a fair dinner.”
“Naturally,” Victoria nods. “I will make sure Kris knows that you are interested.”
At that, Suho meets eyes with Victoria and offers her a cheer before he saunters off into the crowd himself. Victoria then finds it difficult not to watch him amidst the people-the man is different from all the others, but she cannot seem to pinpoint exactly what it is about him that stands out from the rest.
“Are you falling for his charms already?” A deep voice suddenly surprises her.
Victoria refrains from rolling her eyes, taking the arm that he offers her yet again. “You’re the one who abandoned me with him.”
“It was obvious that he was waiting for a moment alone with you, my dear wife,” Kris laughs. “Otherwise, he would have never left us in peace.”
While she is being guided away by her husband, Victoria takes one last glance back. There Suho stands, with a confident smile and seemingly endless topics to talk about with the other guests; Victoria thinks she understands what Kris might mean.
“Are we still leaving for the cabins this coming weekend?” She asks.
Kris nods, “As soon as Friday ends.”
“Will it be just the two of us?”
“We’ve got maids and servants up in the woods, too,” Kris replies with a hint of teasing in his voice, “so we won’t be completely alone.”
Kris chuckles lightly when Victoria gives him an unsatisfied look. “That’s not what I meant.”
“If you were wondering whether or not we would have a chance to stop by your house and pay your parents a visit, then yes, my precious Victoria, we certainly could make a trip there before we head up north.”
She isn’t sure how he does it, but Kris seems to know how the mind of a woman’s works as well as he can read and study the map of any city with a simple glance. There are many things that Kris seems to specialize in, but none as great as that of reading another person’s mind.
Yet, even knowing and wondering so, Victoria can only seem to senselessly smile at the fact that she will be able to reunite with her family this coming weekend. She has long missed her parents and her brother, as well as the cousin that has lived with them ever since her parents had moved to the east for better business opportunities.
There is so much that Victoria misses about home that she doesn’t realize her husband’s eyes were no longer simply that of professionalism and courtesy when he sees a young lady open the door to the ballroom, bright smile and eyes of crescents greeting them into the dark of night.
[ prológos (prologue)] ♦ [ii: his three efforts]
Rating: PG-13
Genre: 1800's!AU, Angst, Romance
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the writing.
Summary: It is the year of the mid eighteen hundreds. Victoria, daughter of a fallen vidame, is reluctantly married to Kris, the witty son of a respected Count. Obligated to her now conjoined life, Victoria must learn how to become a proper wife, winding her into a journey that brings out not only the best in her, but also her husband’s own chivalries.
Warning: Un-beta'd.
It is from the mouths of her maids that she hears of the words being spoken about her in the pension.
“They are much delighted in the fact that you are still not impregnated ever since your arrival to the pension,” an elderly maid informs Victoria. “Many of them believe the young master has already lost favor in you.”
“What had convinced them he was ever interested in me to begin with?” Victoria muses, flipping another page over in the novel she had been reading ever since the spread of daylight in the morning hours.
The elder maid stops her dusting, eyes filled with thought. “It may have been the time the young master spoke up for you against the Count.”
“Oh?” Victoria wonders. “Kris did such a thing?”
“Once or twice,” the maid laughs, poking fun at her young Madame. Victoria gives her a playful look of disapproval, to which the elder dismisses. “In all seriousness, it appears that the young master has taken a tendency of protecting your name in the house as of late.”
Victoria nods weakly. “Is that not what every husband does for his wife?”
“Should that not also be what a wife does for her husband?” The elder replies without much thought.
Although the maid had no peculiar intention behind her words, Victoria is shaken by her comment. She admits, to her own dismay, that she is much more simply just company rather than a wife to her husband, but is that in any way wrong?
To Victoria, Kris is a somewhat materialistic existence-he is her home, he is her shelter; he brings her clothing from trips to the city shops and he buys her souvenirs if he leaves on a business run for days at a time.
There was only one evening in which they have ever spent together as a true couple, but already the morning after the next they behaved as though it had never happened at all.
Kris had apologized profusely the moment he sobered up, blaming it on the pressure his father impended upon him and the alcohol he had turned to for comfort. Although she knew, quite confidently, that he consumed no alcohol that evening, Victoria did not argue.
Then Kris, for whatever reason of his own, blames it partially on the actions of her own-he blames Victoria for fooling around with their gardener, to which Victoria accuses him of liking said gardener, and things take a turn for the worse until Victoria locks herself up in the library for hours on end and Kris comes searching for her with a tray of dinner.
Ever since, Kris has become much more attentive of her needs and Victoria becomes much more subservient to his beckons, if only to put on an act to the rest of their family to see.
And so life goes on, as would the life of any other, while the winter snow begins descending from the vast, white skies and the streets are slowly coated in a blanket of fluffy and cloudlike mounds, drawn into by the arms and legs of young children in the shape of tiny angels.
Store owners and many homes play Christmas tunes, the songs blaring on the streets as hearty greetings are thrown from residence to residence in light of joy and harmony. The decorated trees are tall and beautiful, everything that a holiday should be, but Victoria seldom is seen outside of their pension doors.
“Is there anywhere you would like to go?” Kris asks, one leg crossed over the other at the tea table in their shared bedroom.
Victoria pretends to think it over but shakes her head. “Not in particular.”
“Is there truly nowhere you would like to go, or do you just prefer not to go with me?” Kris probes her, horribly unaware of her dilemma. The couple shares a brief look, to which Victoria cuts off short with a scoff. Her husband is slightly bemused by her reaction.
She sets aside her knitting tools and lifts the comforter from her thighs.
Kris raises a brow. “Where are you going?”
“Hot chocolate,” Victoria replies. “I’ve got to find some way to join in on the holiday spirits, don’t I?”
He laughs, catching up to her at the door and offering his arm. “Quite the Grinch, aren’t you?”
“I wasn’t always,” his wife tells him, taking it rightfully, “I don’t recall when it was I began to hate Christmas.”
Except, that was a lie and Victoria was well aware that she wasn’t being honest. Given any year before this, Victoria was always the happiest when it came to the holidays.
Holidays were about the gifts, the celebrations, the unions of family and friends; holidays were about happiness, love, care and consideration. Of all the things that a holiday are supposed to be, they are most importantly a time to be grateful for life and all that life brings.
Yet, nowadays Victoria, at various points in time, was not.
“What was your childhood like, Kris?” She asks.
The tall and handsome boy peers down at her, but Victoria is still looking straight ahead, watching the seemingly endless hall of their large walkway gradually grow smaller. He takes a soft breath, placing a hand over Victoria’s, which is holding his arm.
“Was it filled with lots of fun? Did you have a lot of friends-know a lot of people? How many songs did you sing and how often did you dance?” Victoria continued asking. “No,” she shakes her head, “what I mean to ask is really this: did you foresee a future like this when you were a child, being married to a girl you’ve never even met until just before the day of our ceremony?”
Kris listens to all of her questions, organizes them in his head, and answers them one by one.
“My childhood consisted of studies and lessons; fun was never in the question. I had a few friends, of which a couple still remain, but I did know a lot of people who no longer appear in my life. Songs were never a part of my agenda and dances were seldom, unless it was a class I was specifically assigned.”
This life-Kris’s life-sounds nothing like hers.
Victoria hears all his answers, yet, the answer she anticipated most never did come.
Christmas was a holiday to celebrate in appreciation; it is the birth of Christ, the icon that many people worship and live for. Victoria was never a religious lady, but she believed in celebration. Kris, though, did not seem to share same sentiments such as her own.
The dining table is a setting which permits silence. Therefore, the dining table is where Victoria feels most at ease when she is surrounded by the people she now identifies as her family.
“Have more broccolis,” her mother in law would urge, passing down the bowls of vegetables to a quiet and reserved Victoria, “the cole slaw is very fresh today, too.”
Politely, Victoria smiles and nods and accepts the offerings, until Kris realizes how she barely even wants to touch the fork to the food of her servings. “I think that’s quite enough, mother,” he decides to help her out, “Victoria can’t stomach so much food at once.”
“Already so familiar with your wife,” his mother grins, very much approving of his consideration for his other half. “I didn’t think such a day would come for you, Kris.”
“Mother,” Kris shakes his head.
His mother then just shrugs and returns to eating, silence once again dawning at the table. Signor Wu is the first to excuse himself once he’s finished with his plate, rushing back to his study to file through more documents and rummage through more action plans.
After the count has left, the rest of the table is much more at ease.
“Have the two of you planned anything romantic for this coming winter?”
Victoria keeps her eyes locked on her hands resting in her lap, afraid to meet eyes with her mother in law’s sister. Under the table, she kicks Kris’s foot. “No, not as of yet, Aunty,” Kris stutters.
His mother frowns. “You should take Victoria on a trip up to the cabins, Kris,” she says, “your poor wife is always locked up in this house of ours; I’m sure she’d appreciate some time out.”
“If I co-“
Kris doesn’t allow his wife to finish her sentence. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea, mother.”
After dinner, Victoria helplessly returns to her chamber and begins knitting again. Such practice takes patience, but her patience is honestly running very thin. Hours later, Kris joins her, sliding onto the other side of the bed after changing into his nightwear.
“Why wouldn’t you let me speak?” She asks.
Her husband rolls around to face her, holding his head up with his elbow on the pillow. “If I allowed you to ask permission to return home, hostility would spur between you and my mother.”
“Why?” Victoria wants to know.
“Because you are a part of our family now,” Kris replies simply, making himself comfortable. “What use do you have for returning to a home that is no longer yours?”
When winter green fades beneath the many layers of white snow, Victoria feels as though her heart is also being buried in her core with it. Outside of her windows she can see the grass and trees becoming less and less visible; within her, she can feel her heartbeat becoming less and less lively.
He takes her to parties, to balls, to meet with the many people associated to the Count in ways Victoria was less than interested in.
They see her as the beautiful and understanding wife, the other half that makes Kris whole, because Kris can smile at ease and hold her hand without a second doubt, but they are all wrong.
As Kris holds her hand, she feels him slipping further away from her. Not that he was ever within her grasp to begin with. Whilst she wonders, she surveys the grand hall, the glamorous chandelier, and the handsome faces that accompany them today.
One of which, in particular, seems to be surveying her own.
“Your wife is truly a beauty,” Suho compliments, “it is a pity that you only show her off at official events, Kris.”
Curtsying at the man, Victoria smiles shyly and glances at her husband, who is staring down at her with wonder in his eyes. It is as though her beauty is a new revelation to him, but it is not-they both know of that much.
An actor will simply never stop acting, though.
“I just don’t want to make her uncomfortable,” Kris explains.
Victoria tries not to scoff, but Suho seems to read it in her eyes. “Victoria seems more than at ease, if I do say so. I’m sure she hasn’t lacked experience in social gatherings as a child, either.”
For whatever reason, Suho continues to gambit the conversation until Kris becomes slightly uncomfortable, which, in turns, seems to amuse Victoria. She finds great interest in the man; the way Suho stands, the way he holds his glass of wine, the way he smiles and his lips crook into a slight smirk.
It doesn’t take a genius to know that Suho is not a man to be trusted easily.
Eventually, Kris slips off into the crowd when Suho refuses to give up on their conversations so easily, leaving Victoria behind while he promises to be back soon. Suho takes the chance to slip beside her in the crowded conference, raising his glass and smiling at the many people passing them by.
“I’m hoping you are not disturbed by my constant mischievous behavior, milady,” Suho says, “Kris has always just made it so easy.”
Victoria chuckles, “Not at all, milord.”
“It may seem ridiculous of me to have to request this myself,” Suho grins, continuing to greet people that Victoria cannot be sure he truly recognizes, “but I’m hoping you, and Kris, of course, will invite me over for a fair dinner.”
“Naturally,” Victoria nods. “I will make sure Kris knows that you are interested.”
At that, Suho meets eyes with Victoria and offers her a cheer before he saunters off into the crowd himself. Victoria then finds it difficult not to watch him amidst the people-the man is different from all the others, but she cannot seem to pinpoint exactly what it is about him that stands out from the rest.
“Are you falling for his charms already?” A deep voice suddenly surprises her.
Victoria refrains from rolling her eyes, taking the arm that he offers her yet again. “You’re the one who abandoned me with him.”
“It was obvious that he was waiting for a moment alone with you, my dear wife,” Kris laughs. “Otherwise, he would have never left us in peace.”
While she is being guided away by her husband, Victoria takes one last glance back. There Suho stands, with a confident smile and seemingly endless topics to talk about with the other guests; Victoria thinks she understands what Kris might mean.
“Are we still leaving for the cabins this coming weekend?” She asks.
Kris nods, “As soon as Friday ends.”
“Will it be just the two of us?”
“We’ve got maids and servants up in the woods, too,” Kris replies with a hint of teasing in his voice, “so we won’t be completely alone.”
Kris chuckles lightly when Victoria gives him an unsatisfied look. “That’s not what I meant.”
“If you were wondering whether or not we would have a chance to stop by your house and pay your parents a visit, then yes, my precious Victoria, we certainly could make a trip there before we head up north.”
She isn’t sure how he does it, but Kris seems to know how the mind of a woman’s works as well as he can read and study the map of any city with a simple glance. There are many things that Kris seems to specialize in, but none as great as that of reading another person’s mind.
Yet, even knowing and wondering so, Victoria can only seem to senselessly smile at the fact that she will be able to reunite with her family this coming weekend. She has long missed her parents and her brother, as well as the cousin that has lived with them ever since her parents had moved to the east for better business opportunities.
There is so much that Victoria misses about home that she doesn’t realize her husband’s eyes were no longer simply that of professionalism and courtesy when he sees a young lady open the door to the ballroom, bright smile and eyes of crescents greeting them into the dark of night.
[ prológos (prologue)] ♦ [ii: his three efforts]