Warning: Un-beta'd.





b. Kris saves his wedded damsel


“We have received wind of messenger spies traveling between the separating border between our country and the south,” Count of Haute-Normandie reinstates, double the volume and strength as the time he spoke of it first. “Milord, your Majesty, we simply cannot continue to overlook the acts of such vile traitors.”

He then glances over at Count of Aquitaine and his son, Kris, glaring. The King nods his head, his medium white beard. “If you have received wind, Sir Lee, have you been able to intercept the messenger for questioning?”

“Wind goes just as quick as it comes, your Majesty, however, need I mention that there are but a few houses in our rule whom send messengers that way?” Sir Lee remarks.

Signor Wu, catching on rather quickly, steps forward. “Your Majesty, our loyalty to you and our country has never been a matter of subject to questioning.”

“So says every convict past,” Sir Lee retorts.

“Milord,” Kris finally speaks up, “we all must be cautious of our words regarding such sensitive subjects.”

Count of Haute-Normandie raises an eyebrow. “I had not listed any specifics titles, had I? And what right, might I ask, does a pubescent boy like you have to speak against a Count as myself on the court?”

Kris readies himself to argue but his father raises a hand, motioning for him to stay silent.

“Alright,” the King sighs, “that is enough. Might I remind you all that we are a family; I want all of us to work together, and not against one another.”

“Your words are wise, Milord,” Signor Wu bows. “I will definitely teach my poor son better manners after we are excused.”

The meeting goes on and Kris is instructed to remain quiet, standing on the sidelines and absorbing every which direction the conversation turns. They discuss economics, truces, alliances, marriages, distribution, and many, many other things Kris has been trained to understand.

It all comes to him like instinct; analyzing, calculating, substituting, maneuvering, coming up with strategic plans. It is the role of a Count to support the King with an army when he needs it, provide for the King financially when it is required, but most of all a Count must be intelligent and silent.

Yet, even as he joins them in his mind, his heart has never been in this game.





When Kris finally returns home after a long morning, his exhaustion is all but a little discomforting to a worried Victoria. “You’re early today,” she says, meeting him and the steps and reaching out to undress his cape.

Kris takes her hand and holds her gaze. “Would you fare to take an outing with me?”

She stands still for a moment, reading his eyes, and eventually nods her approval. Kris continues to hold her hand as they walk out the door, down the steps, and into the busy streets. There are questions she would like to ask, but they all seem too insignificant at the moment.

“Did you have a nice morning?” Kris asks her instead.

Victoria shrugs. “It is just about the same as the morning of every other day.”

“Routine isn’t always such a bad thing,” Kris comments.

His wife frowns. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is just fine,” Kris lies through his teeth. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Victoria replies. “If you are troubled, I would be more than happy to share your worries with you.”

“You wouldn’t understand them,” her husband says, “There’s no point.”

Victoria bites down on her lip, “but at least I can carry half of the weight. Perhaps you’ll feel better if you vent your anger instead of keeping it bottled up inside.”

Chuckling, Kris pulls Victoria a little closer, using the excuse of guarding her from the crowds they are walking through. “It makes me feel better knowing you care,” he whispers against her hair, “really, it does.”

And so Victoria resists the urge to question him further, simply following him around and browsing through many bazaars that she hadn’t even known existed in some alleys she’d never been to. Kris seems to know the area well, making the journey much more enjoyable than when she travels on the streets alone.

“Oh! Look over there, Kris!”

Releasing her husband’s hand, Victoria makes to run for a small stand of hand crafted dolls just off the sidewalk. He watches as she runs and shakes his head with a helpless laugh, chasing after her. Suddenly, he hears the breaks to a carriage scorch and he shouts her name, bolting towards her.

She suddenly feels a force pulling her back, her body heavily colliding into familiar arms. When Victoria opens her eyes, it is to her husband’s worried face.

“Are you alright?!” Kris asks. “Don’t you watch where you’re going?!”

“I—“

“My, my,” another voice interrupts her. “What a pretty little lady. Are you alright, Madame? My coachman was much too careless while driving that reckless horse.”

Kris’s expression flattens. “Count Lee.”

“Oh, is this not Count Wu’s very own son? I feel like we met just moments ago and here we are again,” Count Lee laughs. “How lucky of you to be holding such a doll in your arms; if only I had the same honor—“

“This is my wife, Count,” Kris cuts him off short, eyes hard. “She’s not just any other doll to be bought.”

The Count smiles politely, unimpressed with the younger boy’s attitude. “Why, I hadn’t even known you were married, Kris,” he apologizes, with no hint of sincerity, “It is my absolute honor to be able meet you, Madame Wu.”

Victoria extends her hand to him, waiting as the count accepts her hand and plants a rather long kiss to the back of it. Even though her hand and his lips are separated by a layer of lace, it still sends goose bumps to her arms.

It is only her first time meeting him, but she can tell he’s not by any means on friendly terms with her husband.

“If you will excuse us,” Kris interrupts him, pulling Victoria’s hand back, “we still have errands to run.”

“Of course,” Count Wu smirks. “Oh, and Kris,” he says, “Please do remember to pay my respects to your father. After all, I am not sure how much longer I will have to do so with him myself.”

At that, he jumps onto his carriage and the coachman whips the horse, speedily driving away. Kris clenches his jaw, unconsciously gripping Victoria’s hand so tight that she gasps in pain.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kris apologizes, inspecting it for injury.

Victoria shakes her head. “I’m alright. Are you?”

“Yes,” Kris lies again, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Except, he’s not and Victoria knows perfectly well. She glances one last time towards the direction Count Lee had left and forges the name and face into her memory; this was not a person she should forget easily, that much she knew. “Come, let’s take a look at those dolls,” she smiles, taking him by the hand and guiding him across the street again.

When Victoria smiles, innocent like a child, Kris feels his heart beginning to tranquilize. Victoria is almost like a cure; with every dose he takes, he feels a little lighter, yet, he also becomes more addicted and needs more of her than times before.

“Why have we not done this more often?” He wonders aloud.

Victoria then glances at him with uneven eyes. “You have got more important issues to tend to,” she shrugs, “more important people, perhaps.”

The words sting a little, in the exact way that Kris has always anticipated them to. It was horribly true, the words Victoria had spoken; Kris often spent his time humoring his father, paying respects to Counts and the city councils, travelling with his friends, and trying to please and indulge his efforts fruitlessly into Luna.

Of course, he had his days to himself, but even those weren’t spared to his wife. Instead, he spends them reading or educating himself in other lessons he found useful to him.

“Do you think your father will recover quickly enough?” Victoria abruptly asks.

“For what?” Kris echoes.

Victoria then reaches into a small paper bag of candied almonds she has just bought and feeds some to her husband, who accepts it willingly. “The Count of Haute-Normadie,” she guesses, “the King, and all other individuals or alliances that plan to aid them in bringing your father down.”

“You are aware,” Kris says.

“Quite,” Victoria agrees. “The women in your family speak nothing to the faces of you men, but they are very cognizant about everything. Words spread like a wild fire.”

“I will see to it that the name my father has created for himself does not fall to barren grounds,” Kris reassures her.

Victoria shrugs. “Have you thought of going to watch a play anytime soon?”

He furrows his eyebrows, unsure of why Victoria has taken such a sudden turn in their conversation. Shaking his head, he watches as Victoria chuckles a little to herself and feed him some more almonds. The almonds are sweet on his tongue, but the actual crunch and aftertaste are what intrigue him into eating more.

There are many layers of taste to this snack and, for whatever reason, Kris suspects that Victoria is presenting that there is more to it than just its flavors.

After a little bit of arranging, they come to an agreement on a day to visit Suho’s theater and watch an act. It is only then that Kris realizes exactly why he hardly has the chance to spend such casual and relieving personal time with Victoria; a part of him was simply afraid to. Suddenly, he feels rather regretful.

At first, Kris fancies that he doesn’t understand these sudden feelings but slowly he realizes that he’s been blinded by his own eyes and fooled by his own heart.

If love were to come to him in any shape of form in this life of his, he thinks, then it would most definitely be Victoria.