Of Regal Honor and Noble Misgivings - Nine: Hours
Title: Of Regal Honor and Noble Misgivings
Pairing: TezukaFuji
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Angst
Warnings: sort of regency AU, shounen ai
Wordcount: ~ 2,700
Disclaimer: Tezuka owns Fuji and Fuji owns Tezuka.
50episodes prompt: hours
Parts: I: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 || II: 8
A/N: Was tempted to write this if only for the first paragraph. Belated happy birthday to Fuji. I think I’m going to die if I don’t write something now.
Chapter Nine
----Keep thy heart with all diligence for out of it are the issues of life.----
“Syusuke, wake up.”
He heard it. His sister knew he heard it so she persisted, fighting off a little smile while she shook him awake. Deaf to her musings, he hugged his pillow tighter and squeezed his eyes shut. Not that he wasn’t a morning person (though he wasn’t exactly one either), but he had no swordfight training nor archery training and not even horseback riding scheduled with the Prince today, and all he really had in mind was sleep. Maybe, just maybe, he would get another shot at one of those dreams that were so wonderfully vivid and thrilling they made his skin tingle and drove him to the summits of pleasure. Just another one, he thought. Then, he promised to himself, when he woke up, he would listen to his sister’s fortune-telling and probably drag Yuuta with him too.
But not now. The images of his last dream had been so real, so within reach…
“The Prince is here to see you.”
That he didn’t pretend not to hear. But he didn’t bolt up in surprise. Instead, he opened his eyes and sat up with the tiniest of yawns, pulling up his satin blanket to chest-level. The amused wrinkles at the corners of Yumiko’s eyes told him she understood the action’s necessity.
His eyes immediately rested on Tezuka’s countenance, which was remarkably calm that early in the morning; the sun had barely risen so the sky was still an image of orange airbrushed against a slate gray backdrop. Then again, he reminded himself, Tezuka’s face had always been calm so no one ever really knew if the Prince actually hated waking up at such an ungodly hour.
Getting rid of the numbing feeling on his cheeks, he jovially said, “Good morning, Kunimitsu.” Now that he was sixteen, his sister had finally given up telling him to address the Prince properly. She feared that if she insisted, he would start calling Tezuka My Royal Highness again, which would have disconcerted anyone, even the Prince, to no end.
“I didn’t see you off yesterday,” Tezuka said, direct as always.
The Marquis smiled. But he winced a little upon discovering that his cheek still stung where Toyama had hit it. The Prince started toward him, peered at him with concern, but he waved him off with an even broader smile. “It’s fine. I’m not maimed.”
Tezuka crossed his arms as he straightened up again, towering over Fuji’s bed. “It still sears?”
“A little,” the Marquis said truthfully.
Fuji noticed that the Prince’s lips twitched and he knew that the latter was at the verge of uttering a sharp reprimand but was trying very hard to decide against it. After a minute of brooding, Tezuka said soberly, “Yesterday, I got held up - “
“Well, you did have to befriend your future wife’s friends, didn’t you?” Fuji reminded graciously. From anyone but Tezuka, the words would have sounded like some poor justification for a broken promise. But coming from the Prince, they were a form of a sincere and rare apology. After all, Tezuka lived by a code of honor: each word was worth a promise and to every transgression there should be an equal amount of redemption. “Plus, as I told you, I wasn’t maimed. So…” He inclined his head, curious. “What brings you here?”
The Prince said nothing for a moment so the only sound heard came from Yumiko who, seated in an armchair by the fire, turned a page of her novel. His eyes strayed toward the blanket that Fuji still clutched almost defensively, and his brows knitted together in wonder. But he made no inquiry. Instead, he said, “Chio wondered if you could visit her this morning.”
“You’re already such an obliging husband-to-be,” remarked Fuji. His lips curled up in amusement. But his eyes did not reflect the humor. “Did she say why?”
“No,” the Prince confessed.
“Well, I should never deny any of Chio’s requests, should I? You’ll be after my blood.” Fuji chuckled. He knew that Yumiko was trying to catch his eyes so he averted his gaze away, determined to avoid her disapproving glance. “But until after I’ve had breakfast. I’m not in my best behavior when I’m hungry.”
“Would you like to have breakfast with us, Your Highness?” Yumiko inquired politely, momentarily shutting her book.
Fuji nodded at the Prince in encouragement. “Okaasan will be glad to see you.”
The Prince did not seem to need much convincing for he gave in quickly. “Very well. I’ll send a note to Chio and to the Castle.” With that, he turned on his heels and headed for the door, closing it gently behind him as he left.
“Should I call a maid to change the sheets?”
Feigning impatience, the Marquis glared at his sister. When she laughed, he shrugged and relaxed in bed, finally letting the blanket slide down to his waist.
Yumiko approached his bed and sat down beside him. Her lips curved up at the corners as she studied him. “You know, he’s a boy too. I’m sure he will understand.”
Fuji raised a brow.
“He’s human. And male.” She fought down a giggle when her brother frowned. “Dreams like that can’t be helped.”
“He’s too decent for that.”
“I dare you to ask him then.” When the Marquis glanced up at her as if she had prophesied that the world would end any second soon, she just smiled confidently at him.
Shaking his head, smiling in an amused yet disbelieving way, Fuji asked, “What would be my prize if I’m right?”
“Oh.” Yumiko paused as if to contemplate. “I suppose it will be good to know that your god is still a god after all.”
The Marquis tried to keep his smile intact. “He’s not my god.”
“Your world, then?” Yumiko offered casually. “If I’m right, I’ll be pleased enough with the knowledge that he’s still human.” She flashed him a mischievous grin, told him to get ready and fled.
Sometimes, Fuji thought as he watched the door close, he believed that Yumiko had to have some loose screws to support him in a battle already lost before it even started. But then he realized that they were siblings, similar in curious ways, even (or, perhaps, especially) in insanity. Besides, he had no business complaining. She was, after all, the one who spelled out everything to him when he had been so confused. And she would be the only person to know.
After finally mustering enough resolve to drag himself out of bed, the Marquis cleaned himself and got dressed in a shirt of white silk and a pair of trousers, waving off the valet who moved forward to assist him. He donned on a brown coat that he rarely used and found his way toward the dining room.
As a guest with the highest rank, Tezuka sat at the end of the eight-seater mahogany table that the Fujis used for casual meals. Down the other end sat the Duke of Chrysalium, engaged in deep conversation with the Duchess. Though the Marquis did not quite hear what their topic was, he knew judging by the deep lines on his father’s forehead that it was about business, probably about the tenants’ pleas for lower guild taxes. Putting on a smile, he sat to the unoccupied seat to the Prince’s left.
“How do you find the food?” He asked thoughtfully, draining the cup of coffee before taking a bite of the toast in front of him.
The Prince frowned at his friend in part suspicion and in part concern. He knew that the Marquis wasn’t one for idle, worthless tête-à-tête unless they were in the company of other noble people. Thus, the Marquis must be either worried about something or up to something. “It’s as fine as it used be,” he said succinctly, studying Fuji beneath his glasses.
The Marquis helped himself to some eggs and said, “I’m glad.” He grinned broadly at Tezuka, causing the latter to frown even more. “Okaasan is starting to think you hate the food here since you hardly come over.”
“I’m busy,” Tezuka responded.
“I tell her that,” Fuji said with a broad smile, “but maybe she can’t help -“
“Your Highness, your engagement draws near.” The Marquis stopped speaking once the Duke’s deep voice rang. “In a couple of months, yes?”
Tearing his eyes away from the Marquis’s puzzling expression, the Prince immediately straightened up. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“His Majesty is proud of it. He talks about it quite often.” The Duke cast a significant glance at his eldest son. “I’m wondering when Syusuke would find an equally good match. I expect it won’t be soon. He’s still too busy with his art.”
Tezuka’s grip on his fork tightened. He knew that the Duke spoke in a deliberately slow manner to show that he was trying to hide his contempt, which, in the Prince’s opinion, was even worse. His eyes immediately landed on Fuji who was forking a slice of bacon, smiling as though he never felt more comfortable in his life. “Yuuta, aren’t you going to eat that muffin?”
“There’s hardly any necessity for him to get married soon,” The Prince said, trying to sound more logical than defensive. “Furthermore, his art inspires awe in people. It should never be taken as a burden.” He waved his hand to indicate a portrait of a child and a dog behind the Duke and said, “In fact, his art is something Fenestrium can be proud of. We don’t have to lug behind Antre-slev and the Great Isles all the time.”
The Duke, perhaps to stay in the Prince’s good grace, or perhaps because he simply had nothing to say, kept his lips pursed for a long time before finally saying, “It is a hobby to be proud of. But as heir of Chrysalium, the dukedom should still be his first priority.” His tone was filled with finality.
Only his courtesy made the Prince stay quiet and continue eating, almost as if he hadn’t heard anything.
oOo
From where Tezuka and Fuji treaded, they could see the gates of the Aoyama mansion on top of the hill. It was fairly simple, just a couple of stories high. But its lack of grandeur was not based on the Aoyamas’ minimalism. It was mostly because the mansion was not the main house of the Aoyamas. It was only where they stayed in the capital, and, at the moment, it served only as a place for Chio to live in as she prepared for the coming engagement with the Prince. She spent her days in the company of servants and cooks while her parents stayed in Hestrium to manage the dukedom.
Taking slow steps up the slope of the hill, the Prince knew that something heavy was burdening the Marquis. The latter had not spoken a word since they started walking from the Fujis’ manor toward the Aoyama mansion, but Tezuka did not have to ask. And, somehow, he felt relieved that he suggested taking a walk instead of riding on horseback to visit Chio. He knew that walks gave Fuji time to think and eventually put him at ease.
“I wonder when I should tell him.” Fuji finally spoke at last. When the Prince turned to look at him, his eyes were crinkled thoughtfully at the corners. Even his smile sagged a little.
“When you’ve finalized all the arrangements,” Tezuka said curtly.
Fuji blinked. Despite his troubled state, he managed to laugh. “I would have expected you to say ‘soon.’ And then I thought you would have lectured on me on how I must tell my father everything, respect his opinion, his decision.”
The usually terse lines on the Prince’s forehead faded. He sighed. “You really want to study art, don’t you?” He did not have to wait for Fuji’s response to know. “Then tell him when he wouldn’t be able to interfere, when he would have no choice but to let you go.”
“Such a sly plan from a straight-laced Prince,” the Marquis remarked.
The Prince glared. “I only suggested it for your benefit,” he said impatiently.
A genuine smile formed on Fuji’s lips and spread across his face and toward his eyes. It made the Prince pause in mid-step, his eyes widening before he opted to turn away and to pick up pace. “Let’s go. Chio must be waiting.”
They reached the mansion five minutes later. A butler immediately ushered them toward the parlor where Chio stood to welcome them. A piece of white linen was stowed away under the coffee table telling Tezuka that she has been doing some embroidery while waiting for them.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she said, curtsying to the Prince. “Good morning, My Lord.” She dropped another curtsy for the Marquis. “You’re probably tired from the ride -“
The Marquis grinned. “We walked.”
Chio looked taken aback. But she regained composure and said, “Well then you must be famished.” She turned to the butler who waited for orders. “Please bring us some tea and some cake.” She nodded at them and waved a hand, “Please, sit down.”
Fuji dropped to the seat next to Tezuka and watched as the butler came in as quickly as he had left earlier. The butler, with quick and able hands, set the cups of tea and plates of cake on the coffee table.
“Please, help yourself,” Chio said generously.
“Thank you,” said the Marquis, sampling the cake. He took a sip of tea before inquiring, “You invited us for a visit, my lady?”
Delicately laying her saucer and cup of tea on the table, Chio straightened up. “Yes, my lord. I hope this isn’t a nuisance to your plans for the day?”
“Not at all,” Fuji said reassuringly. “It’s always a pleasure for me to talk to the future Princess.”
The Prince, who has been silently sipping tea throughout the exchange, unconsciously glanced sideways to the Marquis. It wasn’t the first time today that the Marquis seemed to emphasize that the Prince was going to be married to the Marquise soon. It was the truth, the Prince knew, but the Marquis’ constant mention of it troubled him in way that puzzled him.
The Marquise smiled demurely. “I wanted to apologize for the offense that my cousin might have given you yesterday. I should have had the sense not to invite him, my lord.”
Offering a wide smile, the Marquis shook his head. “He is still your relative and he has the right to meet the person you are going to marry.”
“You are most kind, my lord.”
From there, the conversation spun toward simpler, less tense subjects, like the weather, the food, the tea and even Chio’s embroidery. A few times, she inquired about Fuji’s art, about how she found them real yet mystical. They were simply beautiful, she said. “Would you please draw a portrait for our wedding?”
At this, the Prince looked up from his tea and observed the Marquis for a long time.
Fuji, however, smiled and nodded. “Yes, of course. Have you noticed that my favorite subject is actually the Prince? I would be very proud to draw his wedding portrait.”
His grip tight around the cup, Tezuka drained the tea.
Chio seemed genuinely pleased with the thought. “Ahh… speaking of weddings, my lord, I have a question. I hope you wouldn’t mind.”
“Yes, my lady?” Fuji asked politely.
“Do you have any plans of marrying soon? I… see, I know women who will be very well-suited with you, my lord.”
“I have no plans of getting married,” the Marquis replied. A sharp look from the Prince told Fuji that he had taken Tezuka by surprise.
“No plans at all?” Chio asked, trying but failing not to appear shocked.
Throwing his head back, Fuji laughed. “Not plans, no,” he explained, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “I believe in taking things in stride. If I’m bound to be married, why not accept it? If I’m not, then so be it.”
“Oh,” Chio said, sighing with relief. “I thought you were averse with the thought of falling in love.”
Raising a brow, the Marquis shook his head. “But, considering our station and society, marriage and love are often different things.”
-tbc-
A/N: It’s sort of an interlude. It would have been longer but I decided to cut it short because I think the next part merits a chapter to itself. -winks- Bugger it all. If I don’t die next week, I should be able to provide the next installment of A World Apart. Now let me work on Physics.
Pairing: TezukaFuji
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Fantasy/Angst
Warnings: sort of regency AU, shounen ai
Wordcount: ~ 2,700
Disclaimer: Tezuka owns Fuji and Fuji owns Tezuka.
50episodes prompt: hours
Parts: I: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 || II: 8
A/N: Was tempted to write this if only for the first paragraph. Belated happy birthday to Fuji. I think I’m going to die if I don’t write something now.
Chapter Nine
----Keep thy heart with all diligence for out of it are the issues of life.----
“Syusuke, wake up.”
He heard it. His sister knew he heard it so she persisted, fighting off a little smile while she shook him awake. Deaf to her musings, he hugged his pillow tighter and squeezed his eyes shut. Not that he wasn’t a morning person (though he wasn’t exactly one either), but he had no swordfight training nor archery training and not even horseback riding scheduled with the Prince today, and all he really had in mind was sleep. Maybe, just maybe, he would get another shot at one of those dreams that were so wonderfully vivid and thrilling they made his skin tingle and drove him to the summits of pleasure. Just another one, he thought. Then, he promised to himself, when he woke up, he would listen to his sister’s fortune-telling and probably drag Yuuta with him too.
But not now. The images of his last dream had been so real, so within reach…
“The Prince is here to see you.”
That he didn’t pretend not to hear. But he didn’t bolt up in surprise. Instead, he opened his eyes and sat up with the tiniest of yawns, pulling up his satin blanket to chest-level. The amused wrinkles at the corners of Yumiko’s eyes told him she understood the action’s necessity.
His eyes immediately rested on Tezuka’s countenance, which was remarkably calm that early in the morning; the sun had barely risen so the sky was still an image of orange airbrushed against a slate gray backdrop. Then again, he reminded himself, Tezuka’s face had always been calm so no one ever really knew if the Prince actually hated waking up at such an ungodly hour.
Getting rid of the numbing feeling on his cheeks, he jovially said, “Good morning, Kunimitsu.” Now that he was sixteen, his sister had finally given up telling him to address the Prince properly. She feared that if she insisted, he would start calling Tezuka My Royal Highness again, which would have disconcerted anyone, even the Prince, to no end.
“I didn’t see you off yesterday,” Tezuka said, direct as always.
The Marquis smiled. But he winced a little upon discovering that his cheek still stung where Toyama had hit it. The Prince started toward him, peered at him with concern, but he waved him off with an even broader smile. “It’s fine. I’m not maimed.”
Tezuka crossed his arms as he straightened up again, towering over Fuji’s bed. “It still sears?”
“A little,” the Marquis said truthfully.
Fuji noticed that the Prince’s lips twitched and he knew that the latter was at the verge of uttering a sharp reprimand but was trying very hard to decide against it. After a minute of brooding, Tezuka said soberly, “Yesterday, I got held up - “
“Well, you did have to befriend your future wife’s friends, didn’t you?” Fuji reminded graciously. From anyone but Tezuka, the words would have sounded like some poor justification for a broken promise. But coming from the Prince, they were a form of a sincere and rare apology. After all, Tezuka lived by a code of honor: each word was worth a promise and to every transgression there should be an equal amount of redemption. “Plus, as I told you, I wasn’t maimed. So…” He inclined his head, curious. “What brings you here?”
The Prince said nothing for a moment so the only sound heard came from Yumiko who, seated in an armchair by the fire, turned a page of her novel. His eyes strayed toward the blanket that Fuji still clutched almost defensively, and his brows knitted together in wonder. But he made no inquiry. Instead, he said, “Chio wondered if you could visit her this morning.”
“You’re already such an obliging husband-to-be,” remarked Fuji. His lips curled up in amusement. But his eyes did not reflect the humor. “Did she say why?”
“No,” the Prince confessed.
“Well, I should never deny any of Chio’s requests, should I? You’ll be after my blood.” Fuji chuckled. He knew that Yumiko was trying to catch his eyes so he averted his gaze away, determined to avoid her disapproving glance. “But until after I’ve had breakfast. I’m not in my best behavior when I’m hungry.”
“Would you like to have breakfast with us, Your Highness?” Yumiko inquired politely, momentarily shutting her book.
Fuji nodded at the Prince in encouragement. “Okaasan will be glad to see you.”
The Prince did not seem to need much convincing for he gave in quickly. “Very well. I’ll send a note to Chio and to the Castle.” With that, he turned on his heels and headed for the door, closing it gently behind him as he left.
“Should I call a maid to change the sheets?”
Feigning impatience, the Marquis glared at his sister. When she laughed, he shrugged and relaxed in bed, finally letting the blanket slide down to his waist.
Yumiko approached his bed and sat down beside him. Her lips curved up at the corners as she studied him. “You know, he’s a boy too. I’m sure he will understand.”
Fuji raised a brow.
“He’s human. And male.” She fought down a giggle when her brother frowned. “Dreams like that can’t be helped.”
“He’s too decent for that.”
“I dare you to ask him then.” When the Marquis glanced up at her as if she had prophesied that the world would end any second soon, she just smiled confidently at him.
Shaking his head, smiling in an amused yet disbelieving way, Fuji asked, “What would be my prize if I’m right?”
“Oh.” Yumiko paused as if to contemplate. “I suppose it will be good to know that your god is still a god after all.”
The Marquis tried to keep his smile intact. “He’s not my god.”
“Your world, then?” Yumiko offered casually. “If I’m right, I’ll be pleased enough with the knowledge that he’s still human.” She flashed him a mischievous grin, told him to get ready and fled.
Sometimes, Fuji thought as he watched the door close, he believed that Yumiko had to have some loose screws to support him in a battle already lost before it even started. But then he realized that they were siblings, similar in curious ways, even (or, perhaps, especially) in insanity. Besides, he had no business complaining. She was, after all, the one who spelled out everything to him when he had been so confused. And she would be the only person to know.
After finally mustering enough resolve to drag himself out of bed, the Marquis cleaned himself and got dressed in a shirt of white silk and a pair of trousers, waving off the valet who moved forward to assist him. He donned on a brown coat that he rarely used and found his way toward the dining room.
As a guest with the highest rank, Tezuka sat at the end of the eight-seater mahogany table that the Fujis used for casual meals. Down the other end sat the Duke of Chrysalium, engaged in deep conversation with the Duchess. Though the Marquis did not quite hear what their topic was, he knew judging by the deep lines on his father’s forehead that it was about business, probably about the tenants’ pleas for lower guild taxes. Putting on a smile, he sat to the unoccupied seat to the Prince’s left.
“How do you find the food?” He asked thoughtfully, draining the cup of coffee before taking a bite of the toast in front of him.
The Prince frowned at his friend in part suspicion and in part concern. He knew that the Marquis wasn’t one for idle, worthless tête-à-tête unless they were in the company of other noble people. Thus, the Marquis must be either worried about something or up to something. “It’s as fine as it used be,” he said succinctly, studying Fuji beneath his glasses.
The Marquis helped himself to some eggs and said, “I’m glad.” He grinned broadly at Tezuka, causing the latter to frown even more. “Okaasan is starting to think you hate the food here since you hardly come over.”
“I’m busy,” Tezuka responded.
“I tell her that,” Fuji said with a broad smile, “but maybe she can’t help -“
“Your Highness, your engagement draws near.” The Marquis stopped speaking once the Duke’s deep voice rang. “In a couple of months, yes?”
Tearing his eyes away from the Marquis’s puzzling expression, the Prince immediately straightened up. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“His Majesty is proud of it. He talks about it quite often.” The Duke cast a significant glance at his eldest son. “I’m wondering when Syusuke would find an equally good match. I expect it won’t be soon. He’s still too busy with his art.”
Tezuka’s grip on his fork tightened. He knew that the Duke spoke in a deliberately slow manner to show that he was trying to hide his contempt, which, in the Prince’s opinion, was even worse. His eyes immediately landed on Fuji who was forking a slice of bacon, smiling as though he never felt more comfortable in his life. “Yuuta, aren’t you going to eat that muffin?”
“There’s hardly any necessity for him to get married soon,” The Prince said, trying to sound more logical than defensive. “Furthermore, his art inspires awe in people. It should never be taken as a burden.” He waved his hand to indicate a portrait of a child and a dog behind the Duke and said, “In fact, his art is something Fenestrium can be proud of. We don’t have to lug behind Antre-slev and the Great Isles all the time.”
The Duke, perhaps to stay in the Prince’s good grace, or perhaps because he simply had nothing to say, kept his lips pursed for a long time before finally saying, “It is a hobby to be proud of. But as heir of Chrysalium, the dukedom should still be his first priority.” His tone was filled with finality.
Only his courtesy made the Prince stay quiet and continue eating, almost as if he hadn’t heard anything.
oOo
From where Tezuka and Fuji treaded, they could see the gates of the Aoyama mansion on top of the hill. It was fairly simple, just a couple of stories high. But its lack of grandeur was not based on the Aoyamas’ minimalism. It was mostly because the mansion was not the main house of the Aoyamas. It was only where they stayed in the capital, and, at the moment, it served only as a place for Chio to live in as she prepared for the coming engagement with the Prince. She spent her days in the company of servants and cooks while her parents stayed in Hestrium to manage the dukedom.
Taking slow steps up the slope of the hill, the Prince knew that something heavy was burdening the Marquis. The latter had not spoken a word since they started walking from the Fujis’ manor toward the Aoyama mansion, but Tezuka did not have to ask. And, somehow, he felt relieved that he suggested taking a walk instead of riding on horseback to visit Chio. He knew that walks gave Fuji time to think and eventually put him at ease.
“I wonder when I should tell him.” Fuji finally spoke at last. When the Prince turned to look at him, his eyes were crinkled thoughtfully at the corners. Even his smile sagged a little.
“When you’ve finalized all the arrangements,” Tezuka said curtly.
Fuji blinked. Despite his troubled state, he managed to laugh. “I would have expected you to say ‘soon.’ And then I thought you would have lectured on me on how I must tell my father everything, respect his opinion, his decision.”
The usually terse lines on the Prince’s forehead faded. He sighed. “You really want to study art, don’t you?” He did not have to wait for Fuji’s response to know. “Then tell him when he wouldn’t be able to interfere, when he would have no choice but to let you go.”
“Such a sly plan from a straight-laced Prince,” the Marquis remarked.
The Prince glared. “I only suggested it for your benefit,” he said impatiently.
A genuine smile formed on Fuji’s lips and spread across his face and toward his eyes. It made the Prince pause in mid-step, his eyes widening before he opted to turn away and to pick up pace. “Let’s go. Chio must be waiting.”
They reached the mansion five minutes later. A butler immediately ushered them toward the parlor where Chio stood to welcome them. A piece of white linen was stowed away under the coffee table telling Tezuka that she has been doing some embroidery while waiting for them.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she said, curtsying to the Prince. “Good morning, My Lord.” She dropped another curtsy for the Marquis. “You’re probably tired from the ride -“
The Marquis grinned. “We walked.”
Chio looked taken aback. But she regained composure and said, “Well then you must be famished.” She turned to the butler who waited for orders. “Please bring us some tea and some cake.” She nodded at them and waved a hand, “Please, sit down.”
Fuji dropped to the seat next to Tezuka and watched as the butler came in as quickly as he had left earlier. The butler, with quick and able hands, set the cups of tea and plates of cake on the coffee table.
“Please, help yourself,” Chio said generously.
“Thank you,” said the Marquis, sampling the cake. He took a sip of tea before inquiring, “You invited us for a visit, my lady?”
Delicately laying her saucer and cup of tea on the table, Chio straightened up. “Yes, my lord. I hope this isn’t a nuisance to your plans for the day?”
“Not at all,” Fuji said reassuringly. “It’s always a pleasure for me to talk to the future Princess.”
The Prince, who has been silently sipping tea throughout the exchange, unconsciously glanced sideways to the Marquis. It wasn’t the first time today that the Marquis seemed to emphasize that the Prince was going to be married to the Marquise soon. It was the truth, the Prince knew, but the Marquis’ constant mention of it troubled him in way that puzzled him.
The Marquise smiled demurely. “I wanted to apologize for the offense that my cousin might have given you yesterday. I should have had the sense not to invite him, my lord.”
Offering a wide smile, the Marquis shook his head. “He is still your relative and he has the right to meet the person you are going to marry.”
“You are most kind, my lord.”
From there, the conversation spun toward simpler, less tense subjects, like the weather, the food, the tea and even Chio’s embroidery. A few times, she inquired about Fuji’s art, about how she found them real yet mystical. They were simply beautiful, she said. “Would you please draw a portrait for our wedding?”
At this, the Prince looked up from his tea and observed the Marquis for a long time.
Fuji, however, smiled and nodded. “Yes, of course. Have you noticed that my favorite subject is actually the Prince? I would be very proud to draw his wedding portrait.”
His grip tight around the cup, Tezuka drained the tea.
Chio seemed genuinely pleased with the thought. “Ahh… speaking of weddings, my lord, I have a question. I hope you wouldn’t mind.”
“Yes, my lady?” Fuji asked politely.
“Do you have any plans of marrying soon? I… see, I know women who will be very well-suited with you, my lord.”
“I have no plans of getting married,” the Marquis replied. A sharp look from the Prince told Fuji that he had taken Tezuka by surprise.
“No plans at all?” Chio asked, trying but failing not to appear shocked.
Throwing his head back, Fuji laughed. “Not plans, no,” he explained, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “I believe in taking things in stride. If I’m bound to be married, why not accept it? If I’m not, then so be it.”
“Oh,” Chio said, sighing with relief. “I thought you were averse with the thought of falling in love.”
Raising a brow, the Marquis shook his head. “But, considering our station and society, marriage and love are often different things.”
-tbc-
A/N: It’s sort of an interlude. It would have been longer but I decided to cut it short because I think the next part merits a chapter to itself. -winks- Bugger it all. If I don’t die next week, I should be able to provide the next installment of A World Apart. Now let me work on Physics.