Warning: This is not only my first Weiss fic, but my first time posting here or anywhere! AAAAaagh! Nervous! Lots of OOC, I'm sure. This is just a sweet little romance I wrote last year after reading a Weiss fic based on Snow White. I liked the idea of basing a story on a fairy tale, and have always been curious about what happens the day after the tale ends. So, here's my attempt. Its the mid-eighteenth century, but in a country I made up so I don't have to deal with all the actual prejudices that existed back then. Also, I have messed with their ages. Ran and Yohji are the same, but I made Ken quite a bit younger. He's sixteen and Omi's fifteen. And I know nothing about chimney sweeping, but I figure Ken doesn't either. Please R & R!
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. They belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss! There is no profit here, only joy.
Tell Him That it Wasn't love
By HeatherR
Chapter One
The early spring twilight sunk into night, the songs of the birds fading as the stars began to appear, appreciated by the green eyes of the man who stood beside his horse in the small grove beside the pond.
"Well, the evening's pleasant, at least," Prince Yohji announced loudly. His companion, seated a few feet away before the fire, continued to scowl. Yohji sighed expressively into his saddle bag. "Look, I said I was sorry, didn't I? So, stop scowling. You're dried off now, and all warm. Just forgive me already."
He yanked the small flask of brandy free from its confines within the bag, and sat down across the fire from his companion. He pouted as he continued to watch the man scowl.
"How could you forget about a lake?" His companion's deep voice cut softly across the small distance between them. The Prince's pout turned into a frown at the accusatory tone in the voice.
"It wasn't a lake, it was a pond. And I told you, the last time I was here I was eleven. That was almost twelve years ago. How in Hell am I supposed to remember every pond and hedge?"
Lord Ran, the Prince's cousin and companion, scowled more and sunk deeper into the blanket he was wrapped in. He moved his toes closer to the fire and wriggled them. Between the blanket and the cheery fire he was indeed warm, but neither did anything to remove the cold that was within him. He was afraid that he'd never be free of that.
Prince Yohji Kudou watched his cousin's expression sink from the angry scowl back into the expressionless mask he'd perfected over the last seven months. The Prince sighed inwardly. Despite the best of his intentions their tour of the countryside seemed a disaster. He had intended the trip as a means of getting his grieving cousin away from the gossip and innuendo of the court. A more sedate climate, he hoped, would allow the man to come to terms with his loss and return to himself free from grief's shackles.
The whole thing had gone wrong from the start. Several weeks of rain had them traveling from one inn to another with no active pursuits to occupy them. Then Yohji himself had become ill, forcing Ran to relive the events that had led to his lover's death. When finally he had recovered, and the weather began to cooperate, the Prince had been vexed to discover that, although fishing and hunting were fine pursuits in themselves, they don't actually offer any distraction for the mind. Ran had been stuck in the wilderness with nothing but his own thoughts to occupy him.
Yohji cursed himself. He couldn't have been more responsible for his cousin's depression if he'd driven him to it in a carriage. He sighed aloud, and took a swig of the brandy.
"Cousin, I am truly sorry I told you to jump that hedge. In fact, I'm sorry for this whole trip."
Ran looked over at the Prince and blinked. Yohji took that for shock and continued.
"I thought a long trip to the country would cheer you, but I can plainly see its had the opposite effect. I believe Omi is actually ready to kill me." Yohji poked at the fire with his toe.
"Omi doesn't want to kill you, " Ran's quiet voice floated into the evening.
"Well, if he doesn't now he will once he hears about this afternoon. First depression and now pneumonia."
"I won't catch pneumonia," Ran turned his head to look off to the side. He'd undone his red hair to allow it to dry and it effectively hid his face. "And you're not the cause of my depression."
Yohji decided to drop the subject. He stretched out on the ground and faced the deepening sky.
"At least its a dry night. I'm sure my Aunt lives around here somewhere. Tomorrow we'll pop back to the inn for a change of clothes and to sooth Omi's nerves, then we'll resume our search." He glanced at his cousin again, who was still hiding his face. "Then we can head home, Ran. If you want to."
Ran turned back to the Prince and met his eyes. His emotionless mask firmly back in place.
"I have to at least try to see my Aunt. She was my mother's favorite sister, after all. I've regretted that I lost touch with her and my mother's other relatives after her death. Well, the one's that don't live in Town that is."
"How old were you when she died?"
"Twelve. My father married my step-mother when I was fourteen. You remember the wedding?" Yohji's eyes sparkled.
"Aa."
"We ate half the cake and were up sick all night." The Prince's rich laugh echoed out into the night, drawing a slight smile to the corners of his companion's mouth. Yohji caught it out of the corner of his eye. Maybe the trip hadn't been a complete disaster. "Tomorrow we visit my Aunt, and then we can leave."
* * *
Ken awoke to find himself on the hearth in the kitchen. The edges of the cut stones dug into his back, but he hardly noticed. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, rose, and stretched.
The gray light of dawn crept in through the window, bathing the kitchen in its meager light, and illuminating its few furnishings. The long work table which divided the room, the two long benches that stretched along its sides, and the two rickety chairs at either end. The large stone sink below the windows to the back yard, and the row of storage barrels beside it. And the staircase leading up to the main part of the house.
Ken stretched again, and looked around for food. He knew there was a bit of bread left under a tin on the table. Smiling to himself he moved toward the storage barrels. With his head stuck in the butter barrel he didn't see the kitchen door under the stairs open.
"Master Ken?"
He shot up out of the barrel, then smiled sheepishly at the large woman holding a candle. She was dressed for the day with a gray shawl around her shoulders, and a white cap holding back her hair. Her complexion matched her name.
"Morning, Rosie," Ken smiled the dove back into the barrel, stretching to reach the last bit of butter on the bottom.
"Molly'll make more this mornin, Master Ken. Why don't you just eat your bread dry this mornin, hey?"
Rosie set her candle on the table and shook her head. Ken's legs continued to kick in the air as he attempted to reach the butter.
"There's enough left at the bottom, Rosie," his muffled voice floated up from the depths of the barrel.
"Well, use a knife, ya ruffian." The large cook tapped him on the hip with the flat of a long rounded knife. One tanned hand emerged and grabbed it. Chuckling, Rosie turned away to cut several slices off the loaf of bread on the table.
"Ha! Got it!" The youth emerged brandishing the knife which now sported a large clump of butter on its tip. He smiled brightly and flopped onto the bench on one side of the long table.
Rosie handed him the slices of bread and watched smiling as he lathed them with the butter. Her smile faltered as she took in his appearance.
"Tch! You're covered in soot! Did ya fall asleep in the hearth again?"
Ken sank his teeth into the thick slice of bread and shut his eyes to savor its flavor. He mumbled an affirmative accompanied by a nod.
Rosie tutted while she started the fire in the fire place and hung a large iron kettle on a hook over the flames. Scooping up a lidded bucket she filled the kettle with water.
Ken listened to her scolding while smiling inwardly. His ability to sleep almost anywhere was one thing he was immensely proud of. A lifetime of falling asleep at whatever chore he'd been working on late at night had gotten him used to all sorts of surfaces. So far this skill had only come in handy on the small estate he called home, but he was sure that someday it'd serve him well out in the world. The other servants didn't like it. They wanted to know that he was safe in bed. Unfortunately, his bed was the one place he couldn't sleep as it now seemed too soft.
Ken snapped out of his bread and butter haze when he realized Rosie had stopped fussing, and was now regarding him speculatively.
"Just what was you doin' sleepin' in the hearth?"
Ken swallowed his bread.
"Cleanin' out the fire pit, Rosie."
"Why cleanin', hey?" Her eyes narrowed and Ken gulped.
"Sir wants the chimneys cleaned today."
Rosie's eyes widened in horror. Ken couldn't blame her. He always made a mess when he cleaned the chimneys.
"Not my kitchen! Not today!"
"Aww, Rosie. They've gotta be cleaned sometime. An now's perfect what with the rains bein' past."
Ken wasn't overly thrilled with the idea himself. He'd fallen off the roof when he was ten and been in bed with a bad fever for weeks afterward. His step-father had the doctor come, and allowed him to sleep in his old room until he regained his health. Despite the pleasant memories being back in his room had invoked he had not liked being bedridden, and right under his step-father's nose. The return to his small room in the servants' quarters had come as a relief.
Now when he cleaned the chimneys he tied himself to them with a rope. The security of the rope allowed him to enjoy the view of the estate the roof provided. Today promised to be sunny and clear. A good roof day.
"Guess I'll be openin' the summer kitchen then today," Rosie pouted at the kettle.
"I'm sorry, Rosie. I'll try not to make too bad a mess."
"Why doesn't your step-da jus' hire a proper chimney sweep, hey?"
"'Cause I'm here for free." Ken rose from the table with a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "Only five more years, Rosie. Five years and I'll be twenty-one and I'll inherit. Then I promise I'll hire a proper chimney-sweep. Will that do?"
Rosie smiled sadly and nodded.
"That will be a fine, fine day, Master Ken."
* * *
Prince Yohji and Lord Ran awoke with the sun. They ate the last of their rations and returned to their inn where they faced the wrath of Omi, Ran's over protective servant. After yelling at them for staying out all night he yelled at them again once he heard of Ran's tumble into a pond. Finally he'd had his say and released them back into the world. Omi refused to go with them on the suspicion that the inn keepers would rob them blind if not watched every second.
Yohji rolled his eyes as they rode away from the inn, and Omi's waving form.
"Remind me again why we brought along that little windbag?"
Ran's mask slipped into a scowl, and Yohji instantly regretted his outburst.
"You know I couldn't leave him behind. Not after all he's done for me," Ran's deep voice was quiet but firm.
"Forgive me, Cousin. I know he's important to you, but he is a servant. Its his place to do things for you."
"I won't have this discussion with you again, Yohji. You know how I feel about -"
"I know! I know! But its the way things are. The way the world works."
"That doesn't mean its right."
Yohji pouted. He usually enjoyed discussions with Ran, or he used to. They had had many interesting debates on a variety of topics, but now Ran refused to be baited. He seemed to have lost interest in almost everything that had ever been important to him. Yohji missed the old Ran who argued his points with a stubborn determination. The Prince would never admit it, but he secretly admired his cousin for his radical views and even agreed with a few of them. He'd known many servants, and even laborers, he'd valued above the King, his uncle. Of course, admitting that would mean banishment or even his head.
Yohji sighed into his pout. Ran had lifted many eyebrows at court with his political views, but he'd never gone so far as to suggest implementing them. He'd quietly lived his life as he saw fit, which caused an almost greater stir than if he'd called for the King's head in the center of Town. Yes, Yohji had admired that Ran greatly. Perhaps they could yet get him back.
"Where are we going?" asked Ran suddenly.
"What?!" His cousin's quiet voice cut into Yohji's thoughts.
"Where are we going today?"
"Back to where we were. I believe there's a small village just past where we spent the night. They can probably inform us as to the location of my Aunt's estate."
"Aa."
The rest of the ride was silent. They were soon at the spot where they'd spent the night, and not five miles past there was indeed a village. The village, though small, seemed well cared for. The villagers that weren't off working were friendly and readily knew the location of Yohji's Aunt's estate. In fact, the village had been established to service the estate, and still owed much of its prosperity to it.
It was there that Yohji learned the sad news that his Aunt had followed his mother in death, not one year later. Though saddened by the fact that he would not be able to see his Aunt he still expressed an interest in seeing her estate, now in the care of her widowed husband.
"It must've been this husband that I remember meeting in my youth," Yohji commented as they rode out of the village and toward the estate's main house. "I was only eleven, but I remember it was quite an affair."
He paused and thought hard for a moment.
"I think it may have been her second marriage," he said. "I seem to remember a child."
"A child?" Yohji almost jumped out of his saddle at the sound of Ran's voice. He hadn't said anything in over an hour, and the Prince was beginning to feel like he was speaking for his own benefit.
"Yes. A boy, I think. I remember him hiding in his mother's skirts. I seem to remember torturing him."
"Then he'll be thrilled to see you. Are you sure he was your Aunt's son?"
"No, but it seems like he was."
"Hn."
"There it is!"
The trees on the left side of the road parted to reveal a spectacular view out across an expansive valley of cultivated fields, sparkling rivers, and at one end a lake. Just down the hill from where they were was a magnificent manor house. Its gravel court yard was clearly visible behind its high stone wall, and several out buildings, including a large barn, peeked out from behind the house. From the front it appeared to be only two stories tall with a steep roof which flattened out at the top along the ridge line. There were several dormers set into the roof with tiny windows in them.
"Its quite a bit larger than I remember it. Shall we visit them, Cousin?"
Yohji glanced at Ran and was gratified to find him looking at the house with a spark of interest.
"Hn."
* * *
The cleaning of the first of the two chimneys had gone better than expected, and Ken had high hopes for the second one. In fact, he was almost done. All that remained was sweeping the debris that was left in the flu into the already nearly full bag of soot placed under the flu to catch it.
Ken leaned into the fireplace and moved his wire broom up and down the flu as carefully as he could. He was already head to toe soot, but he'd managed to contain most of it in the bag. Gently he pulled his broom back down, intent on carefully removing it.
"Master Ken!"
Ken jumped and lost his grip on the broom which fell out of the flu along with a large cloud of black soot which enveloped him before spreading out into the rest of the room. He coughed loudly and turned to regard the young woman who'd burst in.
She stood in the doorway covering her mouth with both hands. Her serving uniform was pristine, as was the cap that topped her amber curls. Ken glared at her.
"Oh, Master Ken. I am sorry, but Sir, he wants you. We got visitors coming."
Ken's eyes widened.
"Visitors? Who?"
"Don't know. Old Shoop spotted them on the road. He says they're dressed fine. Real fine."
Ken looked around the room which was the preferred location for afternoon tea. The cloth covered furniture was now coated with a fine layer of soot, and he was sure it'd gotten under the clothes. The floor was thick with soot. Even the air seemed darker.
"Molly, look at this room! We can't serve tea in here!"
The young maid's eyes widened in horror.
"We'll have to tell Sir to have them outside in the garden. Go on and tell him. I've got to get this bag outside."
"But, Master-"
"Go on!"
Molly jumped and ran like a startled deer. Ken tied up the bag and threw it out the window so it wouldn't spread anymore soot. Once he'd stowed it in the barn he made his way around the house to the court yard, dusting as much soot off himself as he could.
He came around the side and into the court yard. As he approached the small group gathered there he could feel all their eyes on him. Molly stood near his stepfather looking worried. His stepfather was scowling darkly.
"Ken," his voice carried his rage to his stepson. Ken tried not to flinch.
"Sir." He stopped before his stepfather and faced him. He hated the fact that his stepfather still towered over him. Either the man was unusually tall or Ken was short. He feared the latter, and wondered if it was a consequence of that childhood fever.
"I hear the sunroom is covered in soot."
"Yes, sir."
The man sighed loudly, almost a snort.
"We'll be discussing this later, do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
"But, Sir!" Molly cried stepping forward. "It was my fault! I ran in there and startled him. I-"
"Molly, I would thank you to remember your place." He didn't look at her but continued to fix his eyes on Ken's.
Molly clamped her mouth shut and her face turned red. Her mother, Mrs. Hudson who ran the house, stepped forward and placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders. Molly scowled at the ground.
"Yes, sir," she muttered.
Ken's two oldest stepsisters, Justine and April, began to twitter.
"Poor little, Ken-Ken."
"Its the belt for you again, Kenny."
"Please, keep still," commanded Caroline, the youngest of his stepsisters. She met his eyes with sympathy.
Old Shoop, the gardener, just shook his head.
"Ken, any moment two young nobles shall be arriving here. I want you to take their horses. Feed them, water them, and then occupy yourself somewhere until it is time for our discussion. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Ken glowered. It was always the same routine when they had guests. His stepfather didn't have to repeat it every time. He wasn't stupid. And now he had a whipping to look forward to. He sighed and moved toward the little stable which was built into the side of the stone wall, as his oldest sisters began twittering again.
Still it was strange. They almost never had unexpected guests. Most of the young noblemen who visited were invited from court by his stepfather during his annual visit there. That had been going on for years, and still his sisters hadn't been able to catch one. Maybe these two would fall madly in love with two of them, make his stepfather insanely happy, and he'd forget about his beating. Not bloody likely.
He reached the stable just as two horses pounded into the courtyard. The horses halted before him and he looked up curiously at the riders.
They both seemed tall and thin, though the blond was taller than his companion. He was indeed dressed finely and carried himself with an air of importance. He flashed Ken a dazzling smile and tossed him the reigns before jumping from the saddle. Ken caught them and turned his eyes to the other man. He had brilliant red hair, and was impossibly pale. Of course, his paleness was probably enhanced by his dark clothing. It too was fine, but with less decoration than the other man's, and it was all a dark charcoal in color. As if the man was in mourning. Ken looked into his eyes. They were purple. Purple like some gems he remembered his mother wearing. He'd never seen anyone with purple eyes before.
The thin red-head stared back at him and blinked.
"Ran!"
The man started at the other's shout. Without a word he climbed from his saddle, handed Ken his reigns, and joined his friend. Ken watched them approach his family then turned and led the horses into the stable.
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. They belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiss! There is no profit here, only joy.
Tell Him That it Wasn't love
By HeatherR
Chapter One
The early spring twilight sunk into night, the songs of the birds fading as the stars began to appear, appreciated by the green eyes of the man who stood beside his horse in the small grove beside the pond.
"Well, the evening's pleasant, at least," Prince Yohji announced loudly. His companion, seated a few feet away before the fire, continued to scowl. Yohji sighed expressively into his saddle bag. "Look, I said I was sorry, didn't I? So, stop scowling. You're dried off now, and all warm. Just forgive me already."
He yanked the small flask of brandy free from its confines within the bag, and sat down across the fire from his companion. He pouted as he continued to watch the man scowl.
"How could you forget about a lake?" His companion's deep voice cut softly across the small distance between them. The Prince's pout turned into a frown at the accusatory tone in the voice.
"It wasn't a lake, it was a pond. And I told you, the last time I was here I was eleven. That was almost twelve years ago. How in Hell am I supposed to remember every pond and hedge?"
Lord Ran, the Prince's cousin and companion, scowled more and sunk deeper into the blanket he was wrapped in. He moved his toes closer to the fire and wriggled them. Between the blanket and the cheery fire he was indeed warm, but neither did anything to remove the cold that was within him. He was afraid that he'd never be free of that.
Prince Yohji Kudou watched his cousin's expression sink from the angry scowl back into the expressionless mask he'd perfected over the last seven months. The Prince sighed inwardly. Despite the best of his intentions their tour of the countryside seemed a disaster. He had intended the trip as a means of getting his grieving cousin away from the gossip and innuendo of the court. A more sedate climate, he hoped, would allow the man to come to terms with his loss and return to himself free from grief's shackles.
The whole thing had gone wrong from the start. Several weeks of rain had them traveling from one inn to another with no active pursuits to occupy them. Then Yohji himself had become ill, forcing Ran to relive the events that had led to his lover's death. When finally he had recovered, and the weather began to cooperate, the Prince had been vexed to discover that, although fishing and hunting were fine pursuits in themselves, they don't actually offer any distraction for the mind. Ran had been stuck in the wilderness with nothing but his own thoughts to occupy him.
Yohji cursed himself. He couldn't have been more responsible for his cousin's depression if he'd driven him to it in a carriage. He sighed aloud, and took a swig of the brandy.
"Cousin, I am truly sorry I told you to jump that hedge. In fact, I'm sorry for this whole trip."
Ran looked over at the Prince and blinked. Yohji took that for shock and continued.
"I thought a long trip to the country would cheer you, but I can plainly see its had the opposite effect. I believe Omi is actually ready to kill me." Yohji poked at the fire with his toe.
"Omi doesn't want to kill you, " Ran's quiet voice floated into the evening.
"Well, if he doesn't now he will once he hears about this afternoon. First depression and now pneumonia."
"I won't catch pneumonia," Ran turned his head to look off to the side. He'd undone his red hair to allow it to dry and it effectively hid his face. "And you're not the cause of my depression."
Yohji decided to drop the subject. He stretched out on the ground and faced the deepening sky.
"At least its a dry night. I'm sure my Aunt lives around here somewhere. Tomorrow we'll pop back to the inn for a change of clothes and to sooth Omi's nerves, then we'll resume our search." He glanced at his cousin again, who was still hiding his face. "Then we can head home, Ran. If you want to."
Ran turned back to the Prince and met his eyes. His emotionless mask firmly back in place.
"I have to at least try to see my Aunt. She was my mother's favorite sister, after all. I've regretted that I lost touch with her and my mother's other relatives after her death. Well, the one's that don't live in Town that is."
"How old were you when she died?"
"Twelve. My father married my step-mother when I was fourteen. You remember the wedding?" Yohji's eyes sparkled.
"Aa."
"We ate half the cake and were up sick all night." The Prince's rich laugh echoed out into the night, drawing a slight smile to the corners of his companion's mouth. Yohji caught it out of the corner of his eye. Maybe the trip hadn't been a complete disaster. "Tomorrow we visit my Aunt, and then we can leave."
* * *
Ken awoke to find himself on the hearth in the kitchen. The edges of the cut stones dug into his back, but he hardly noticed. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, rose, and stretched.
The gray light of dawn crept in through the window, bathing the kitchen in its meager light, and illuminating its few furnishings. The long work table which divided the room, the two long benches that stretched along its sides, and the two rickety chairs at either end. The large stone sink below the windows to the back yard, and the row of storage barrels beside it. And the staircase leading up to the main part of the house.
Ken stretched again, and looked around for food. He knew there was a bit of bread left under a tin on the table. Smiling to himself he moved toward the storage barrels. With his head stuck in the butter barrel he didn't see the kitchen door under the stairs open.
"Master Ken?"
He shot up out of the barrel, then smiled sheepishly at the large woman holding a candle. She was dressed for the day with a gray shawl around her shoulders, and a white cap holding back her hair. Her complexion matched her name.
"Morning, Rosie," Ken smiled the dove back into the barrel, stretching to reach the last bit of butter on the bottom.
"Molly'll make more this mornin, Master Ken. Why don't you just eat your bread dry this mornin, hey?"
Rosie set her candle on the table and shook her head. Ken's legs continued to kick in the air as he attempted to reach the butter.
"There's enough left at the bottom, Rosie," his muffled voice floated up from the depths of the barrel.
"Well, use a knife, ya ruffian." The large cook tapped him on the hip with the flat of a long rounded knife. One tanned hand emerged and grabbed it. Chuckling, Rosie turned away to cut several slices off the loaf of bread on the table.
"Ha! Got it!" The youth emerged brandishing the knife which now sported a large clump of butter on its tip. He smiled brightly and flopped onto the bench on one side of the long table.
Rosie handed him the slices of bread and watched smiling as he lathed them with the butter. Her smile faltered as she took in his appearance.
"Tch! You're covered in soot! Did ya fall asleep in the hearth again?"
Ken sank his teeth into the thick slice of bread and shut his eyes to savor its flavor. He mumbled an affirmative accompanied by a nod.
Rosie tutted while she started the fire in the fire place and hung a large iron kettle on a hook over the flames. Scooping up a lidded bucket she filled the kettle with water.
Ken listened to her scolding while smiling inwardly. His ability to sleep almost anywhere was one thing he was immensely proud of. A lifetime of falling asleep at whatever chore he'd been working on late at night had gotten him used to all sorts of surfaces. So far this skill had only come in handy on the small estate he called home, but he was sure that someday it'd serve him well out in the world. The other servants didn't like it. They wanted to know that he was safe in bed. Unfortunately, his bed was the one place he couldn't sleep as it now seemed too soft.
Ken snapped out of his bread and butter haze when he realized Rosie had stopped fussing, and was now regarding him speculatively.
"Just what was you doin' sleepin' in the hearth?"
Ken swallowed his bread.
"Cleanin' out the fire pit, Rosie."
"Why cleanin', hey?" Her eyes narrowed and Ken gulped.
"Sir wants the chimneys cleaned today."
Rosie's eyes widened in horror. Ken couldn't blame her. He always made a mess when he cleaned the chimneys.
"Not my kitchen! Not today!"
"Aww, Rosie. They've gotta be cleaned sometime. An now's perfect what with the rains bein' past."
Ken wasn't overly thrilled with the idea himself. He'd fallen off the roof when he was ten and been in bed with a bad fever for weeks afterward. His step-father had the doctor come, and allowed him to sleep in his old room until he regained his health. Despite the pleasant memories being back in his room had invoked he had not liked being bedridden, and right under his step-father's nose. The return to his small room in the servants' quarters had come as a relief.
Now when he cleaned the chimneys he tied himself to them with a rope. The security of the rope allowed him to enjoy the view of the estate the roof provided. Today promised to be sunny and clear. A good roof day.
"Guess I'll be openin' the summer kitchen then today," Rosie pouted at the kettle.
"I'm sorry, Rosie. I'll try not to make too bad a mess."
"Why doesn't your step-da jus' hire a proper chimney sweep, hey?"
"'Cause I'm here for free." Ken rose from the table with a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "Only five more years, Rosie. Five years and I'll be twenty-one and I'll inherit. Then I promise I'll hire a proper chimney-sweep. Will that do?"
Rosie smiled sadly and nodded.
"That will be a fine, fine day, Master Ken."
* * *
Prince Yohji and Lord Ran awoke with the sun. They ate the last of their rations and returned to their inn where they faced the wrath of Omi, Ran's over protective servant. After yelling at them for staying out all night he yelled at them again once he heard of Ran's tumble into a pond. Finally he'd had his say and released them back into the world. Omi refused to go with them on the suspicion that the inn keepers would rob them blind if not watched every second.
Yohji rolled his eyes as they rode away from the inn, and Omi's waving form.
"Remind me again why we brought along that little windbag?"
Ran's mask slipped into a scowl, and Yohji instantly regretted his outburst.
"You know I couldn't leave him behind. Not after all he's done for me," Ran's deep voice was quiet but firm.
"Forgive me, Cousin. I know he's important to you, but he is a servant. Its his place to do things for you."
"I won't have this discussion with you again, Yohji. You know how I feel about -"
"I know! I know! But its the way things are. The way the world works."
"That doesn't mean its right."
Yohji pouted. He usually enjoyed discussions with Ran, or he used to. They had had many interesting debates on a variety of topics, but now Ran refused to be baited. He seemed to have lost interest in almost everything that had ever been important to him. Yohji missed the old Ran who argued his points with a stubborn determination. The Prince would never admit it, but he secretly admired his cousin for his radical views and even agreed with a few of them. He'd known many servants, and even laborers, he'd valued above the King, his uncle. Of course, admitting that would mean banishment or even his head.
Yohji sighed into his pout. Ran had lifted many eyebrows at court with his political views, but he'd never gone so far as to suggest implementing them. He'd quietly lived his life as he saw fit, which caused an almost greater stir than if he'd called for the King's head in the center of Town. Yes, Yohji had admired that Ran greatly. Perhaps they could yet get him back.
"Where are we going?" asked Ran suddenly.
"What?!" His cousin's quiet voice cut into Yohji's thoughts.
"Where are we going today?"
"Back to where we were. I believe there's a small village just past where we spent the night. They can probably inform us as to the location of my Aunt's estate."
"Aa."
The rest of the ride was silent. They were soon at the spot where they'd spent the night, and not five miles past there was indeed a village. The village, though small, seemed well cared for. The villagers that weren't off working were friendly and readily knew the location of Yohji's Aunt's estate. In fact, the village had been established to service the estate, and still owed much of its prosperity to it.
It was there that Yohji learned the sad news that his Aunt had followed his mother in death, not one year later. Though saddened by the fact that he would not be able to see his Aunt he still expressed an interest in seeing her estate, now in the care of her widowed husband.
"It must've been this husband that I remember meeting in my youth," Yohji commented as they rode out of the village and toward the estate's main house. "I was only eleven, but I remember it was quite an affair."
He paused and thought hard for a moment.
"I think it may have been her second marriage," he said. "I seem to remember a child."
"A child?" Yohji almost jumped out of his saddle at the sound of Ran's voice. He hadn't said anything in over an hour, and the Prince was beginning to feel like he was speaking for his own benefit.
"Yes. A boy, I think. I remember him hiding in his mother's skirts. I seem to remember torturing him."
"Then he'll be thrilled to see you. Are you sure he was your Aunt's son?"
"No, but it seems like he was."
"Hn."
"There it is!"
The trees on the left side of the road parted to reveal a spectacular view out across an expansive valley of cultivated fields, sparkling rivers, and at one end a lake. Just down the hill from where they were was a magnificent manor house. Its gravel court yard was clearly visible behind its high stone wall, and several out buildings, including a large barn, peeked out from behind the house. From the front it appeared to be only two stories tall with a steep roof which flattened out at the top along the ridge line. There were several dormers set into the roof with tiny windows in them.
"Its quite a bit larger than I remember it. Shall we visit them, Cousin?"
Yohji glanced at Ran and was gratified to find him looking at the house with a spark of interest.
"Hn."
* * *
The cleaning of the first of the two chimneys had gone better than expected, and Ken had high hopes for the second one. In fact, he was almost done. All that remained was sweeping the debris that was left in the flu into the already nearly full bag of soot placed under the flu to catch it.
Ken leaned into the fireplace and moved his wire broom up and down the flu as carefully as he could. He was already head to toe soot, but he'd managed to contain most of it in the bag. Gently he pulled his broom back down, intent on carefully removing it.
"Master Ken!"
Ken jumped and lost his grip on the broom which fell out of the flu along with a large cloud of black soot which enveloped him before spreading out into the rest of the room. He coughed loudly and turned to regard the young woman who'd burst in.
She stood in the doorway covering her mouth with both hands. Her serving uniform was pristine, as was the cap that topped her amber curls. Ken glared at her.
"Oh, Master Ken. I am sorry, but Sir, he wants you. We got visitors coming."
Ken's eyes widened.
"Visitors? Who?"
"Don't know. Old Shoop spotted them on the road. He says they're dressed fine. Real fine."
Ken looked around the room which was the preferred location for afternoon tea. The cloth covered furniture was now coated with a fine layer of soot, and he was sure it'd gotten under the clothes. The floor was thick with soot. Even the air seemed darker.
"Molly, look at this room! We can't serve tea in here!"
The young maid's eyes widened in horror.
"We'll have to tell Sir to have them outside in the garden. Go on and tell him. I've got to get this bag outside."
"But, Master-"
"Go on!"
Molly jumped and ran like a startled deer. Ken tied up the bag and threw it out the window so it wouldn't spread anymore soot. Once he'd stowed it in the barn he made his way around the house to the court yard, dusting as much soot off himself as he could.
He came around the side and into the court yard. As he approached the small group gathered there he could feel all their eyes on him. Molly stood near his stepfather looking worried. His stepfather was scowling darkly.
"Ken," his voice carried his rage to his stepson. Ken tried not to flinch.
"Sir." He stopped before his stepfather and faced him. He hated the fact that his stepfather still towered over him. Either the man was unusually tall or Ken was short. He feared the latter, and wondered if it was a consequence of that childhood fever.
"I hear the sunroom is covered in soot."
"Yes, sir."
The man sighed loudly, almost a snort.
"We'll be discussing this later, do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
"But, Sir!" Molly cried stepping forward. "It was my fault! I ran in there and startled him. I-"
"Molly, I would thank you to remember your place." He didn't look at her but continued to fix his eyes on Ken's.
Molly clamped her mouth shut and her face turned red. Her mother, Mrs. Hudson who ran the house, stepped forward and placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders. Molly scowled at the ground.
"Yes, sir," she muttered.
Ken's two oldest stepsisters, Justine and April, began to twitter.
"Poor little, Ken-Ken."
"Its the belt for you again, Kenny."
"Please, keep still," commanded Caroline, the youngest of his stepsisters. She met his eyes with sympathy.
Old Shoop, the gardener, just shook his head.
"Ken, any moment two young nobles shall be arriving here. I want you to take their horses. Feed them, water them, and then occupy yourself somewhere until it is time for our discussion. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," Ken glowered. It was always the same routine when they had guests. His stepfather didn't have to repeat it every time. He wasn't stupid. And now he had a whipping to look forward to. He sighed and moved toward the little stable which was built into the side of the stone wall, as his oldest sisters began twittering again.
Still it was strange. They almost never had unexpected guests. Most of the young noblemen who visited were invited from court by his stepfather during his annual visit there. That had been going on for years, and still his sisters hadn't been able to catch one. Maybe these two would fall madly in love with two of them, make his stepfather insanely happy, and he'd forget about his beating. Not bloody likely.
He reached the stable just as two horses pounded into the courtyard. The horses halted before him and he looked up curiously at the riders.
They both seemed tall and thin, though the blond was taller than his companion. He was indeed dressed finely and carried himself with an air of importance. He flashed Ken a dazzling smile and tossed him the reigns before jumping from the saddle. Ken caught them and turned his eyes to the other man. He had brilliant red hair, and was impossibly pale. Of course, his paleness was probably enhanced by his dark clothing. It too was fine, but with less decoration than the other man's, and it was all a dark charcoal in color. As if the man was in mourning. Ken looked into his eyes. They were purple. Purple like some gems he remembered his mother wearing. He'd never seen anyone with purple eyes before.
The thin red-head stared back at him and blinked.
"Ran!"
The man started at the other's shout. Without a word he climbed from his saddle, handed Ken his reigns, and joined his friend. Ken watched them approach his family then turned and led the horses into the stable.