A/N: Ah, like I said, it was a rather morbid chapter before. But, considering what series this is based off of, I guess that it's not too out of place, huh? Anyways, this chapter is officially the starting point for all of the important relationships that are going to develop in this fic, so I hope you like it. :3

P.S. Apologies for the length of the chapter-I know it's short-but like in my other fanfiction at this time, I'm afraid this is going to be a transition chapter in which just the occasional dialogue is happening. The next chapter though, I guarantee, will be an interesting one.

4 - The Omelette Ingredients

Despite er evident loss and the great pain that it caused her when she reflected too deeply on it, Violet found that her anger from earlier had quickly subsided, only to be replaced by the most sickening feeling of guilt.

This feeling, though minor, was for two very different reasons, the first-being the oddest-because she was not as angry at Count Olaf as she ought to be. Sure he was a murderer, arsonist, and all other manners of a horrid human being, but Violet had known all of that beforehand-that is to say, it hardly came as a surprise.

The second reason made more sense: Violet felt guilty because it had been her duty to protect her siblings. Although she had never made an official promise, the eldest Beaudulaire felt as if she owed it to her parents and siblings to be sort of the caretaker; it was the only role she was used to.

Yes, but now you've got to get into the role of a Countess, she reflected bitterly. All of her fears-having to cook meals for Olaf, spend time with Olaf, and especially sleep with Olaf-were coming true. At that moment, being with either her brother or her sister in their sinister surroundings might have seemed a better prospect.

"Oh Countess!"

Speak of the devil, Violet thought as her husband's low voice resonated through the house.

For reasons unknown to herself though, Violet answered. "What?!"

"I realize of course that you are, shall we say, surprised by these new developments; however, I suspect that by now you have gotten over the loss and must attend to me accordingly. Oh Countess!"

Trying to block him out was all in vain; his voice was everywhere and he used it well. Against her wishes, Violet was drawn out.

Taking her time coming down the stairs-and yet still arriving at the bottom too soon-the eldest Beaudulaire came face to face with her husband.

"What tears, pet?" Olaf asked after a pause, reaching out to touch her damp cheek.

Violet gasped-she had not realized that she had been crying.

Pulling back his hand, Olaf smirked. "No matter. Are you prepared to make me my breakfast yet, orphans?"

"Make it yourself," Violet tried weakly.

But of course the Count wouldn't have it. Grabbing hold of her wrist before she had time to react, he pulled her back to the kitchen. Pointing out the necessary ingredients for his omelette with a bony finger, he released his wife and took a seat.

Violet looked at him skeptically. "So you did have these ingredients ready?"

Olaf shrugged. "You could have found them if you looked hard enough."

Rolling her eyes and suppressing a sigh, Violet got to work. She had no idea how fresh or rotten the food might've been, but for food poisoning purposes, she hoped they were terrible. to her surprised-and perhaps the Count's as well-the omelette turned out better than expected. With a sour expression and an even more sour disposition, the young girl set down her husband's plate before sitting across from him. She hadn't really been dismissed after all.

"What, no food for you, orphan?" the Count questioned.

"I don't like omelettes," Violet lied.

With a light sniff, the man passed her a portion. "Eat," he instructed. "After all, you're the one who cooked it, so you should know it isn't poisonous."

Sensing that this one display of kindness-if such was the appropriate word-wasn't without reason, Violet hesitated. "What are we doing after this?"

"Going to the bank of course, Countess," came the reply. I have a large sum of money to withdraw.

"Why?" It wasn't the smartest question-certainly not one that Klaus would have asked-but it did serve to amuse the count further.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," he said, with a peculiar glint in his eyes. "Of course, I could always tell you if you're good to me. Practice in that, Countess."

"Would you please stop calling me that? Besides, who made you a count anyway?" It wasn't meant as an insult, but Olaf took it as such.

"Question my title, will you? I'll have you know, orphan, that I come from a higher breeding that either you or your bookworm or your monkey could ever hope do me. Do not question what you do not know."

The advice-most likely unintentional-gave the eldest Beaudulaire pause. Just what did he mean by that?

In any case, there was no time to find out for in the next moment Olaf had swallowed down his omelette and was getting ready to leave.

"Are we going now?" Violet asked, her omelette untouched and her hair still uncombed.

Olaf gave her a look that just-albeit a little-made her feel stupid.

"Of course now, orphan. What better time is there than now? The bank has already been open for forty-six minutes exactly. Why waste any more time?" He paused before heading out the kitchen door. "You're lucky I even gave you this much time to sulk."

Muttering half a dozen unladylike curses under her breath, the young newlywed had no choice but to follow him. It was either that or be rendered unconscious, dumped into a foul-smelling trunk, and either way she'd end up at the bank.

A/N: Please remember to review/follow/favourite! ~3