Pas de deux, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

French origin; lit; step of two. A dance for two people, typically a man and a woman. A ballet and dance term.

The clopping of hoofs on the pavement stirs the Lady's Maid from her thoughts, and it is with measured strokes that she smoothes down the front of her dress, fingernails skimming down the long dove grey vest that doubles as a bodice on her maid uniform. Sharing glances with the Housekeeper, she rises, accompanying her Lady as they moved forward to greet their visitors.

The carriage door is opened by footmen, and she notices her mistress sucking in a sharp breath when its occupant steps out, calculating grey eyes looking up to meet hers and blinking a polite smile. The other door of the carriage opens, the maid watching quietly as the valet of their Baron-guest walks from around the back, luggage in his hands as he leans forward slightly to whisper into the Baron's ears.

The elegant clicking of his shoes resound loudly against flat stone, and when he raises his head to discern his to-be-hosts, Lien finds indigo shades piercing deep into her soul.

Later during dinner in the dining hall she finds their eyes meeting again when they both stand and reach for the same bottle of wine for their charges. There is an awkward silence before her Lady laughs, a soft tittering that betrayed a tint of embarrassment only she could determine, but the Baron had merely chuckled, grey eyes curious when he inquires of her tastes in wine. Valet and maid had exchanged an uncertain glance when the conversation streamed on seamlessly, but in a moment the former had composed himself, letting his hold on the bottle go so that she could serve her Lady first.

The evening went on without further mishap, but the maid is careful to make sure she did not bump eyes with the valet again, even as discussion eased away from politics and the two aristocrats talked about the well-known grapevines of the town past the valley.

...

It starts from that one day before merging into weeks. The Baron and his small number of servants become a constant presence in the manor as time goes by. The Lady's Maid does not probe into her mistress's affairs, but from what little her Lady confided in her and the advice she had to give on particularly dreary nights she perceived it to be politics and testaments. The young Baron was a family friend, here to help her settle some legal documents and matters that her late father had beseeched him to do before his passing.

It was a repayment that he did not mind, and hence Lien leaves it at that. The Baron was certainly sincere enough, well mannered to servants, charming, and with just the right amount of wisdom in his early age to intrigue the Lady of the manor. The whole household could see that, and no one comments when they see the both of them spending time together away from the manor, hiding secret smiles perhaps, or shaking their heads at what they think would be a temporarily distraction for their mistress.

Lien, for her own part, goes about her mundane duties as per usual. Her life retains normalcy with the exceptional intrusion of the Baron's servant-equivalent of her position. Two days after the Baron's arrival she bumps into the valet with the chambermaid in the mansion's laundry room. Curious, sizing glances were given, but it isn't long before she nods in greeting and breaks away to focus on washing her Lady's personal clothing and linens, hearing distant sounds of water sloshing as the chambermaid washes and explains their system of laundry at the same time.

A hand had gestured towards her very obviously, the brown eyes of the chambermaid glinting with suppressed amusement as she passed the rest of her responsibility over to her. A rebellious curl of hair stuck out of her bun as she had smiled, the strand grazing her cheek periodically.

"This is Lien, our Lady's one and only personal maid. She will show you around if you need it."

The Lady's Maid had glared at her half-heartedly in annoyance, but the basket of clothing is hurriedly taken from her hands and brought away by the chambermaid before she could say anything ("-Lien this isn't even your job, go talk to him already!"), leaving her with a crumpled pile of damp linens and an waiting valet.

She learns his name then - Lukas - , when he had helped her reach up to hang the sheets on the clothes line - and he learnt hers, proper introduction and all. They meet more often the closer their charges become. Impromptu dinners are planned together, and breezy afternoons are spent hovering over the Lady and Baron during their teatime in the gardens.

She thinks she doesn't mind meeting his gaze now; the deep, mesmerising indigo orbs do not unnerve her as much as before, and he is polite and refined with his mannerisms in a way that didn't put her in a spot. A reliable man, and one she grew comfortable with the longer time passed.

And the days do pass, slowly enough, until the arrival of more guests stirs the manor into a flurry of activity. Distant relatives of her Lady start to visit and stay, and it is such that the latter's peaceful days with the Baron shatters. The prospect of marriage was brought up and suitable candidates chosen, each bumbling elder wanting her to marry off and inherit her otherwise sole inheritance for their own.

If Lien notices the dark circles and the puffiness of her Lady's eyes on her frustrated face when she comes to attend to her every morning, she does not comment, only able to do little things within her control to help ease her throughout the day. She sees Lukas once with the Baron in the corridor, but her Lady was stone faced when she passed by them, ignorant of grey eyes watching her sadly. She is quick to follow, but not before sending an apologetic glance the valet's way.

His indigo eyes bore into her golden ones intensely, watching her walk away, and it is a long time away from their sight before Lien feels the sudden tension leave her body.

...

The first letter appears, tucked neatly between the pages of her Lady's favourite novel on the parlour.

...

Muffled twittering of sparrows can be heard from outside the window, perching on the wooden stills to bask in the sunlight that seeps into the private kitchen room.

The water had boiled five minutes ago and the kettle taken off to cool, but still the Lady's Maid stands staring unseeingly at a spot on the kitchen counter. Her hands knock into the jar of tea leaves intended for her Lady's breakfast accidentally, the clinking glass making her flinch. With gentle fingers she adjusts the jar back into position on the breakfast tray and pulls the kettle over with an intention to grip that does not follow through.

Lien knows it is futile for her to stay and ponder over her inner troubles. Indeed, any moment now someone could open the door of the private kitchen and catch her in her stupor. She would never hear the end of it from the Housekeeper then, but she couldn't help herself.

(The words of her blue-eyed Lady as she implored her earnestly, the crisp feel of paper slipping into her hands as smoothly as silk. She had no choice but to accept and hide it beneath the silverware of a dinner tray meant for ashen eyes, but the weight of her conscience still bears heavily over her. She has no doubt what would happen if her mistress was caught in the act.)

The kitchen door creaks softly, but Lien is unaware of the intruder until a silhouette looms over her, pinpricks of shadowy blush reflecting off the porcelain tray. Her shoulders stiffen at the realisation, but before she can turn to confront gloved fingers grip the wrist of her hand resting on the counter, curling inward slightly as she jumps. The gesture is a breach of personal space, and though at any other time she would lash out, the early day's stress had left her in tatters, and the light touch on her skin was quiet and meant to calm. With a soft exhale she eases and tilts her head up to meet familiar indigo eyes.

She thinks she glimpses concern when Lukas blinks, but the thought is banished away quickly when she shifts out of his hold and the soft pressure of silk around her exposed wrist vanishes. The maid grasps the tray promptly before turning to grab the kettle, but it is already in the valet's hands as he moves to open the kitchen door.

He opens it before looking back expectantly at her, and Lien feels her stomach tighten when she moves past him and he follows. The walk to her Lady's room wasn't particularly long and no servants litter the hallways, but still she cannot hide her tenseness at every distant muffle of noise. The valet for the most part is silent, but his eyes flicker to glance at her once in a while as he escorts her up the stairs and past vacant rooms to reach her destination.

The creme-coloured door stares at them at the end of the hall when they approach, its appearance standard apart from the nameplate engraved with elegant cursive and the pale roses that hang, decorative, on its front. Taking the kettle back from her escort, Lien knocks on the firm wood gently before indicating for him to leave with a wordless thank of her head.

When he makes to turn, she does the same, schooling back her features as she enters the door. That is, if not for the sudden, barest brush of hands skimming down the back of her dress. Her breath hitches in surprised mortification. The touch is gone as soon as she whips her head around in anger and shock; but she has no time to catch the apologetic look on the valet's face before she slams the door to his face, goosebumps trailing down her skin as her knees shake.

Her Lady's face peep out from underneath the sheets sleepily, and with murmured apologies she begins serving her breakfast and tea. The events of the past minutes plays in her head like a sick haze, and the maid's fingers tremble when she pours freshly brewed tea into the teacup and hands the saucer to her. Her charge temporarily occupied, she lifts one hand to tug and run down the back of her dress in an attempt to soothe her nerves, feeling something sharp and uneven hanging out halfway from her back pocket. Pulling out the object, her eyes widen at the sight of a letter, the cover blank and unaddressed.

She hears her Lady gasp, and with rising confusion, passes the letter to her. The envelope is opened neatly with shaking fingers, and Lien finally understands when she sees the curve of happiness on her mistress's face when blue eyes skim over the words.

The urge to slap the valet lessens, if only a bit.

...

It is the brink of dusk the following day when the Lady's Maid ascends the flight of stairs of the side tower and slips open the door to the music room. Peeking inside, she gives the empty space a quick look over before closing the door shut, a thoughtful hum leaving her frowning lips. She had been unable to find the valet the entire day, and with the Baron under the watchful eyes of the elders, there was no way she could give him her Lady's regards directly.

Defeated, she heads to the direction of the private kitchen, intent on starting her mistress's dinner first. Closing the door behind her, she sighs, more at ease now away from the hidden eyes of the manor.

"Miss, are you alright?" The sudden inquiry makes her start and whip her head around, exhaling audibly and narrowing her eyes once she spots the valet standing by the table, holding a glass of wine in his hand.

"I didn't mean to startle you." Lukas answers when she remains silent, his wrist continuing to swirl the glass of liquid red in a circular motion as he dips his head sheepishly. "I apologise for yesterday as well. It was too bold of me."

Ah, there was the hotness on her cheeks.

"Next time, warn me if you are going to-..!" She shuffles uncomfortably at the memory. "Just, don't do that again." She did not want to dwell on that strange sensation anymore.

When he nods again she relaxes gingerly, moving closer to him as her hands move to her apron pocket. Pulling out a pastel envelope, she lifts it up to him hesitantly. Lukas quirks a lip at the motion, plucking the letter with his fingers before pressing the glass of wine into her hands. The alcohol was cool to her fingertips, rippling slightly when the glass tilted, and Lien blinks.

At her inquisitive look he elaborates, the letter tucked safely inside his suit. "The merchants brought a new kind of wine with them from the North. I was thinking we could pair this up with the ribs the cook is making today."

His grip on the base of the glass neck tightens and shifts at the soft noise of acknowledgement from the Lady's Maid, but he does not let go when her hands cupped the base of the proffered glass and lifts it up to take a sip.

(He looks away at the soft flutter of her eyelashes, the imprint of her mouth on cold glass and the exhale of warm breaths as stirring and intoxicating as the exposed curve of her neck when she tilts her head up, suddenly mindful of how he had guided the glass to her lips.)

"It's strong." Surprise colours in her voice, and he clears his throat, taking a step back to give space between them. The glass was loose in her hands now, and carefully he takes it from her, setting it down on the table gently.

"Yes, it would match well, wouldn't it?" His voice comes out lower and raspier than he would have liked. Judging by the startled look on her face, she had noticed as well. He almost makes to speak again, an excuse to wave away concerns and looming awkwardness, but Lien had already closed her eyes and turned towards the stovetops, the long length of her skirts brushing his pant leg as she walks away, unable to see the flash of embarrassment that clouds his face.

"I hope you are not coming down with a cold, Sir."

Lukas blinks in relief when she chooses not to pry, moving to join her and allowing the conversation to stem into comfortable silence.

...

The weeks go by like this; day after day, letter after letter. Valet and maid are careful and discreet with their meetings, making sure that both servants and guests are none the wiser of the secrets that belong to the Lady and Baron.

Somewhere throughout their exchange of letters, the atmosphere of unspoken solemnity had mellowed down into something almost tentatively risqué. They no longer frown when they see each other but they don't smile either, the air tinged with a different sort of tension that neither one could ascertain.

They knew that it was unprofessional of them, scandalous even; a relationship that was not quite friend or acquaintance and teetered on the edge of something else, yet one could not help the probing gazes and soft murmurs under the shrouds of privacy whenever the other was near. The other too, could never stop themselves from returning those little challenging taunts, whether out of pride or to see how far they could push the limits of their little game, the end result still merits.

Somewhere things had changed from the Lady and Baron to the two of them, and the Lady's Maid isn't sure she knows what made it so or if she even wants to stop.

...

The courtyard is cool this afternoon, the sun's rays lax and dim high above in the sky. Clutching a bunch of freshly picked lilies in her arms firmly, Lien wanders down the dirt trodden path back towards the manor, shoes silent and light as she steps around stray pebbles. The whinnies of horses echo in the air when she passes by the stretch of path that blankets the stables, and with a quick scan of her surroundings showing no one in sight, she breaks away and follows the diverted path into the cover of trees.

The stable hands are absent from the posts, having gone for their rest breaks. Carefully Lien skirts away from the edges of the closest stalls as she enters the musty doors, shushing the alert horses when they neigh and shake their heads at her excitedly. A quiet mare stares at her with ears pricked, and with a soft laugh she reaches up to stroke its ears, lips curving when her Lady's favourite horse nickers in recognition and sniffs curiously at the lilies in her hands.

The stallion in the neighbouring stall cranes forward suddenly to take a curious nibble of her sleeve, and with an undignified yelp she stumbles back, stiffening at the familiar chuckle that sounds from the shadows behind her.

Lukas emerges from the shadowed crook of space that lies between the opened stable door and the first stall, indigoes glinting with amusement as he looks at her. Speak of the devil. Lien has half a mind to ask him how long he had been watching from his comfortable perch, but seems to think better of it, swallowing a sigh as she walks past and slips him a letter with practised fluidity that leaves not even a silver of paper edges to be seen. He isn't wearing gloves.

The feeling of eyes watching her back makes her stop to look at him. "I can't stay." She says simply, her grip on the fragrant flowers growing tighter when he continues to stare, eyes reflecting faux disappointment as he makes a show of cocking his head to the side slowly.

"Mei has been asked to keep an eye on me."

"The chambermaid?" A real frown mars his lips subtly before smoothening away. The horse in the stall behind him snorts, and with a thoughtful gleam he turns back to pat the equine, one she recognises belongs to the Baron. As careful as she was, her position as the highest ranking maid meant that she was expected to be seen around her Lady constantly. Servants have already begin to notice her increased leave from the latter in recent times; something that cannot afford to be brought to attention.

Warm breaths rain down the side of the valet's head in the form of affectionate nuzzling, distracting him from his thoughts at hand, and with an inward groan he pulls away from the gleeful horse, trying in vain to level mussed strands of his light blonde hair and smoothen imaginary creases on his uniform. He thinks he hears a soft snort come from the maid, but the feeling of foreign fingers in his hair moments later makes him pause, mouth parting ever so slightly as he looks down to see her combing through his unruly locks, the distance between them marginally smaller.

"You are a mess." She mutters as she fixes his hair, and he almost wants to laugh at the concentrated look on her face. Slowly his hands comes up to fiddle and adjust the headpiece in her hair in an involuntary reflex, fingers fluffing the lace and trailing the curve of the adornment before stopping just behind her ear. He lingers.

"So are you."

He is only vaguely aware when she stops her motions, palm lowering as she looks at him with a confused gape of her mouth. The sweet scent of lilies pervades the air around them, and he finds his eyelids drooping if not for the uneven puff that leaves her lips, pulling him out of the hazy swirling of his mind.

"The flowers.. I, I need to," - Her stutters just bring more red to her cheeks, golden orbs flickering nervously as she breaks away from his gaze. - " -go-goodbye."

In a moment she is gone, the fading scent of lilies in her wake, and Lukas has to press the back of a palm over his eyes once he breaks away from his open-mouthed stupor, the beginnings of another half-hearted chuckle spilling from his lips.

...

The teasing brush of a hand over her ruffled skirts leads her to snap her eyes over to him warningly when they crossed paths with each other down the servants' quarters. There was a mischievous glint in the valet's eyes, one that she would not have thought him capable of showing until a few months ago. Keeping her eyes straight, she gathers the flowing cotton together and bunches the fabric closer to her leg, trying to look as habitual and unaffected as possible as she hurries past quickly.

Just the night before her Lady had enquired if there had been disparities or complications with her meet-ups. When she had lift her head, uttering a hesitant mutter of her Lady's name and a quick huff as she relayed the appreciated but unneeded concern, her mistress had only smiled knowingly, the blues in her eyes sparkling as she laughed.

It unnerved her then, even as her Lady dismissed her early after a quick change of her nightclothes to look over more documents and past letters, and it unnerves her now, as she steps into the dormitory to grab a new set of clothes before heading off to a side door. Shutting the door of her private room firmly, she removes the lacy band on her head, pulling the pins from her hair and unfurling the bun that kept her russet locks in place. Her hair tumbles in messy waves and she threads her fingers through in an attempt to smooth before palming the side pocket of her skirt.

The sharp, flat texture of something rectangular crinkles slightly over her prodding, and gently she takes the object out, curious eyes giving it a once over. The envelope is a pastel blue this time, thick with sheets of papers, the picture of a smiley face and a sparrow hastily scribbled on the back corner.

Biting back an amused laugh, the maid sets the letter on her bed gently before reaching back to untie the strings and bow that hold her dress together. Her hands brush something soft half-dangling from her pocket, and she pulls it out curiously. An unfamiliar lavender ribbon greets her eyes, softer than any material or velvet she has ever felt - even a few of her Lady's dresses. Silk, she thinks, the minuscule smile on her lips deepening at the exquisite strip of quality fabric. So the Baron finally makes his next move.

Lien leaves the ribbon besides the letter when she enters the bathroom, lifting it up once again once she is freshly showered and dressed, her damp hair tied into a loose ponytail. Making up her mind, she wraps the ribbon around the envelope, curling the bows till perfection. The glint of an odd colour at the edges of the fabric captures her attention, and her fingers twist the silk until she can see the anomaly clearly.

At the very tip of one end, an embroidered letter in golden stitching stares back at her, glinting weakly in the light of the room.

A letter that did not have anything to do with her Lady's initials. Doubt crosses her mind immediately, her fingers almost pulling the knot apart erratically as indecision clouds her thoughts. The Lady's Maid takes a few deep breaths. Perhaps she was overthinking this, and it really was a present from the Baron. An inside joke, or maybe the letter stood for something else? But then why would the ribbon be not sealed within the envelope itself since it was definitely small enough to? The nagging feeling inside her wouldn't subside no matter how much she tried to console herself, and Lien knows it would not be wise to hand the ribbon to her Lady carelessly if she did not understand its meaning.

Regaining her composure she tugs the ribbon apart gently, turning it over in hopes for another helpful hint. Apart from another embroidered L on the other extreme end of the ribbon, nothing else stains the silk, and it is with a vexed expression that she drops the strip of fabric back onto her bed, ruminating.

Her eyes glance back to the soiled maid uniform that sat neatly folded on the plain wooden chair near the door unconsciously. Resolved, she stands from her bed, naked feet making no sound as she crosses the room and picks the dress up, digging her hands into its pockets. A miffed huff leaves her throat when they all end up empty. Something soft crinkles against her foot then, what she presumes first to be lace, but when she looks down and notices the folded slip of paper digging into her arch, a sprout of hope rose from within her chest.

Picking up and unfurling the note, Lien expects to find a note of comment concerning the gift. Instead her eyes widen at the scribbled cursive, mortification rising at every word she reads. The paper falls to the ground, forgotten, and Lien steals another peek at the ribbon lying on her streets, the beat of her heart thumping heavily as she buries her head into her hands.

Even as a game, this was too much.

...

The ribbon is yours.

Found it with the Lord in town the other day. Thought of you.

-Lukas

...

Footsteps echo down the corridors hurriedly, and Lien sneaks a glance behind to see the chambermaid following her with equal intensity, the usual bright spark in her eyes replaced with a grave countenance.

The rumours had spread through the servant ranks rapidly, worried looks and stifled whispers beckoning the Lady's Maid to them with haste. Now the latter finds herself searching for her charge desperately, feet short of running towards the side tower in the West wing.

There is a faint whisper of musical notes coming from within the music room when they approach, and with a meaningful look at the chambermaid Lien gives the door a soft knock, cracking it open slowly. Inside, the Baron and Lady sit, the former with his fingers on the piano and the latter watching the spectacle with awed eyes. The rich humming sweetness of strings catches her attention, and her gaze shifts up to find the valet with a violin in his hands, playing in harmonizing tones as the Baron's fingers glide over the monochrome keys.

When the music piece ends and her Lady begins to clap delightedly, she takes the chance to slip into the room, tapping the wood of the door once again with more force, tendrils of guilt stirring in her heart knowing that she was about to break this moment of tranquillity. Lukas notices her first, and even as he bends down to alert the Baron he keeps his eyes fixated on her, blinking in question as he lowers the violin and its bow. The look in her eyes stops the polite smile from reaching his lips, mouth pressed into a neutral line as the aristocrats turn to face her.

"Apologies my Lady, my Lord." The Lady's Maid dips her head at the both of them as the chambermaid curtseys. "But we bring urgent news." When she glances back Mei takes her cue, straightening her back as she faces the Lady and Baron.

"My Lady, the elders request your presence. It is of utmost importance." The chambermaid spoke tactfully, but even her mellowed words could not stop the frown from flitting over her Lady's face.

"Tell them that I'm busy." Blue eyes narrow as the atmosphere turns frigid.

"My Lady please, they plan to throw a ball in three days and select your suitor then. There is also talk of a wedding taking place right after. Please, I don't know how true these rumours actually are, but you have to come."

Mei had barely begun to finish before the Lady of the manor is already walking past her, the horror and shock etched on her face melting into anger as she fists her hands by her sides. "Lien." The command was firm, laced with building rage, and the Lady's Maid obeys without a word, lips pressed together in worry as she follows her mistress out.

She can vaguely hear noises and the tapping of shoes making to follow, but the voice of the Baron calls out, soft but firm, and the footsteps stop. Lien imagines she can see the hard frown of the valet as indigo eyes blink back his anxiety, and if possible her gut twists even more, adding to the flare of concern for her charge.

...

The preparations for the ball continues, despite the seething arguments that penetrate the walls through the night. On the third day the young men come, together with enough aristocracy to fill the entire luxurious ballroom.

...

The dress was a dark red, bordering on maroon, lace and ribbons adorning the waist line and edges. It's skirts were ruffled with black long enough to brush her bare ankles, the fabrics swaying with very shift of cloth. It was a beautiful garment; modest to nobility (it couldn't even be considered a gown), but for Lien it was the most beautiful thing she would ever have the pleasure of wearing.

(Her Lady had insisted on it, heedless of the objections she had spewed, smiling the most genuine smile she had seen in three nights at her embarrassment and her half-hearted effort of appreciation. Think of it as a request from me, she had said as she handed her the garment, if it bothers you that much.)

Now she palms the material of the dress made for dancing, swallowing heavily before tugging the knot of the pristine bathrobe she wore loose.

The silky material felt soft when she lays it on her skin, and Lien fidgets, abandoning the mess of ribbons to fix her hair first. The same old bun, but this time she threads a piece of lavender through her hair. It was good silk, and under the candlelight it would be impossible for others to catch its original colour. Lien hopes no one could catch it. The lace and trailing ribbons brush and flare against her form, and the ticklish sensation gives her shivers as she struggled to tug and tie the flimsy fabric neatly.

The door to the private dressing room scrapes open quietly, casting a bright light into the dim room and a shadow on scrambling hands twisting around crimson ribbons. Lien hears his footsteps before she senses him, her fingers faltering when foreign digits sweep past her own. The valet's presence emanates amused curiosity and she cowers at the thought of his eyes roving over her state of indecency.

"May I?" His hands are on her ribbons, knuckles brushing against the ruffles of her dress. Voice soft, she can scarcely hear him breathe. With measured breaths she drops her hands and resists the urge to turn around and greet him.

"You may." A weak smile spreads on her face, fingers clasped tightly together in front of her at the noises of silk and shifting behind her. With a start she realises she is trembling, and nails dig into skin as she fought the urge to stir. The valet ties and laces the ribbons snugly around her waist, proficient fingers gripping and tugging the fabric skilfully into place before letting go, caressing the falling silk with his thumbs.

Gently he turns her around until they are facing each other and she can see the sharp crispness of his suit. Indigo eyes gleam, their owner taking a barely audible intake of breath as they look upon her. Lukas levels his gaze with hers before taking her hand, raising it forward as he bends down to brush his lips on the tips of her knuckles. Her nose twitches at the scent of his cologne.

They both knew the chivalrous gesture was a mocking one, and if it weren't for the current situation and the sudden shaking in her numb knees Lien might have shared in the amusement that she was sure would dispense the tension that spiked the room. Yet all she could do was focus her gaze on the crisp white collar that frames the valet's neck, trying to contain the red that tints the tips of her ears when he opens one eye coolly to look at her.

It was a threshold they were standing on, and she feels her heart pound when he draws himself back and lowers their jointed hands. Something had changed between them, and the Lady's Maid wasn't sure she knew what it was.

"Tonight, the Lord to going to ask your Lady to elope with him." The valet's voice was low, tinged with the barest hint of huskiness and urgent solemnity. Icy shock floods her veins as she startles.

"She won't agree to it." Her reply comes immediately, stunned as she shakes her head even as a dry laugh escapes her throat. "She would never abandon her father's work and entire property to be taken by those pinching elders."

Indigo eyes flicker. "Supposed she did then. The Lord has given me a small amount of his treasures." He licks his lips, looking at her intently, and Lien feels the gloved pads of his fingers fidgeting restlessly over the underside of her palms. "It isn't much, but it is enough for a life in the country."

"Lukas, what are you saying?" Her whisper was strained as she fought to quell her rising panic, the ache in her heart intensifying. Oh gods, she knows, she knows what is coming. Please, let it not be that.

"Supposed they left. Would you, -" He squeezes her hand, thumbing her knuckles in a soothing motion as he looks at her with such warmth it leaves her floundering. "- would you come with me?"

Gods no.

The implications of his words hit like the force of a thousand spears, leaving her reeling as her heart clenched painfully, the air thick with silence as Lukas awaits her answer. Lien can hear the faint buzzing of distant chatter trailing up from the ballroom, but her eyes are fixed only on him, mouth parting half-heartedly before pressing shut in frustration as a pained noise of similar emotion leaves her lips. (But she had known hadn't she? In the deepest parts of her heart she had always envisaged something like this happening the moment that first spark had occurred between them.)

When at last she musters to speak her voice trembles, dread filling her very being as she closes her eyes. "I, I cannot promise you that." Her mistress, her entire life spent in service, to leave them all; she couldn't, she cannot, she didn't think she could bear it. But most of all, she didn't think she would be able to-

"Tell me you will consider, at least." His tone was almost beseeching,- begging -, a desperate sort of hope clinging onto his form even as his voice remained steady, so different from his usual poise that when she opens gold to meet indigo the overwhelming urge to submit to his request pulses stronger.

"Lien?" He sees the conflict in her eyes as she balks and resists the urge to ease her worries away. He knows very well what his decision and its consequences would mean for them if she inclines. He will not force her.

Swallowing heavily she gives a tentative nod, and the sad, relieved smile he displays in return sends a new wave of ache to pierce her heart. Gently he releases her and escorts her down towards the noises of chatter and string music, indulging in one last glance before separating to their respective charges on opposite ends of the room.

...

"Please." The urgent whisper is enough for her to make her choice.

"Go. I will distract them for as long as I can."

...

Fear and panic spikes down the spine of the Lady's Maid as she runs past the safety of the corridors, red dress flaring behind her as her feet wobbles from the stiffness of her shoes. She can vaguely hear the voice of the chambermaid behind drawing the attention of her oncoming pursuers away, and that small lapse of time is enough for her to lose them as she hurries down a hidden spiral staircase in the South Tower.

She emerges to the sight of a lattice gate covered with morning glories, violet-furled petals illuminated dimly by the waxing moon. Scents of pristine flowers waft through the air as she sneaks into the gardens, following the familiar stone paths that lead to the well concealed gazebo. Lien gets there just in time to see her Lady pulling away from the Baron's hands, something akin to sadness in her firm gaze as she murmurs to him. With a slight pant she teeters to a stop, the rustling of grass and scraping of stone attracting the attention of them both as she locks eyes with the former meaningfully.

One look is enough for her Lady to nod in affirmation, blue orbs glinting with gratitude at the unspoken message. She murmurs something else to the Baron before making her way back to the manor with him. Lien almost follows them, but then thought better of it. Better for none of the elders to wonder and suspect.

Tiredly she sinks against the outermost pillar of the gazebo, removing the uncomfortable shoes off her feet. The cool breeze soothes the red marks of abused skin and blisters on the back of her ankles, and with a soft sigh she grasps the fabric of her skirts as she sits down to gaze unseeingly at the moon in the night sky.

She does not know how long she sits, motionless and numb, but her rest is disturbed when the clicking of shoes on stone reaches her ears. Her back tenses at the approaching intruder, but relaxes gradually at the sight of a familiar blonde head. Lukas's hair is dishevelled when he rounds the corner, as though he had been in a hurry. His eyes swirl with crystalline glimmers when he spots her, the hint of a smile curling on his lips. A sad smile, coated with longing as he stops a few feet away from her, and that was all she needed to know. She mirrors it wistfully.

"You were right." He says anyway, quiet in the secluded ring of trees and bushes that hid them from outside eyes. Silently she stands to face him, bare feet brushing against sharp blades of grass as she treaded closer to his form. Lukas pulls her forward when she is within his reach until her toes have to step on the tips of his shoes to avoid losing balance. Her breath hitches but she does not pull away, and his comes out heavy when his eyes rove over her face; parted mouth, flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, pounding heart.

The lavender in her hair was unmistakable.

"Would you have left with me?" If given the chance? A hummed growl, and Lien shivers, hands clenching as she stares into softened eyes. The silk of her dress teases her lower calves as she raises her heels, carefully shifting her weight to the balls of her feet as she leans up. The kiss was barely a brush on his mouth, but that was all the answer he needed.

Lukas sighs lowly, drawing her waist to his chest at the touch, all professional demeanour gone as he reciprocates. His lips were soft. The kiss deepens, the pressing of lips more firm and insistent as their mouths move in hesitant, explorative strokes. The tip of his tongue swipes against her parted lips -accidentally or not-, and Lien pulls away jerkily in embarrassed surprise, lips prickling in the cool air. Lukas whispers raspy apologies as she catches her breath, a husky chuckle leaving his lips as she puffs and pants close to his mouth, eyes half lidded dazedly as her hands clutch and crumple the fabric of his suit. His arm loosens its hold on her waist as she drops back from her tiptoe, cradling her gently as she shifts back to find her footing.

He lets her go when breathy gasps no longer litter the air, watching the sway of ribbons on her skirts as she gathers her shoes and disappears from his view, the embarrassed duck of her head a sight for sore eyes. The night grows ever darker as he finally gets his hands to smooth and straighten his suit, and with gradual purposeful steps he makes his way from the gazebo, thoughts far with his musings.

His Baron would not need assistance tonight, and he had servants to oversee with the cleanup of the ball.

...

The letters stop coming; they have no more reason to.

...

The manor empties of guests in the coming days; some leave defeated, others angry or neutral, but none of the expressions stood out more than the victorious, proud gleam of her Lady. Her final confrontation in the ballroom will no doubt be the talk of the nobility for years, but the assertive deliverance and thinly veiled threats she had made with her sharp tongue had sealed and assert her position and decision as monarch of her household. No one, least of all an elder of distant family, will tell her what to do anymore.

It is not long before the Baron returns to being her only guest (but for not much longer, she thinks and smiles), and the household rejoices to see the young nobles so full with joy. The words of a promise linger in the air of the crowd still, and it is not long before seamstresses visit and plans are arranged to hold the ceremony in the gardens.

The Lady's Maid sees them sometimes; a pair of songbirds in love as they chase each other playfully around bushes of forsythia and hedges of pruned greenery while she prepares their tea in the pavilions scattered over the wide expanse of manicured land. In these moments she wonders if, given the chance, she could have been like that too.

Most times the valet joins her halfway through from his duties, but they do nothing more besides converse in whispers and share tender glances, mindful of invisible eyes. Unlike their charges, who need not use paper and ink to convey their sentiments any longer, they are still bounded to social hierarchy and selfless duty, restricted only to serve. Yet no matter what precautions they make, their masters are always more observant, and it is with secret smiles that blue and grey share before heading for the duck pond or greenhouse, making sure to take a little longer than usual before returning.

...

The bright colours of daffodils and anemones join the azaleas in the garden as the days get warmer, yellows and violets adding shades to the flowering bushes as fragrances mix to form elaborated perfumes. It is the eve of May when the ancient dogwood tree in the middle of the manor courtyard finally blooms, sending mauve petals aflutter, creating a scenic beauty unlike any other.

Lien knows her Lady wouldn't be happier with the timing, and thus it is with that thought that she smiles, fingers running over the finely embroidered lace of the creme-coloured gown as she ties the strings and ribbons together in methodical fashion, feeling the poofy silk swirling against her leggings as she moves.

Her charge is moved to stand in front of the mirror, and the ensuring awe of silence makes Lien feel an ounce of pride. The seamstresses have done their work well. Only the finest materials were used to make the garment; every detail sewn to perfection, the bodice a perfect snug fit, streams of tiny pearls trailing lacy patterns of flowers and doves. Fit for a soon-to-be blushing mess of a bride, and she cannot keep the smile on her face from turning fuller when she passes the bouquet of fresh roses and complementing flowers into her Lady's hands, humming a fragmentary tune as she places the veil and headpieces on her head, adjusting it carefully.

"You are happy today," her mistress notes as she works. Lien almost answers readily, but the knowing glint in laughing blue eyes makes her falter. Her Lady was ecstatic, but there was something else not so subtly hidden within blue irises that the maid could not read, even as the former plucks a single lily from the bunch sweet smelling blossoms and presses it into her hands before shooing her out to wait with the rest of the invitees in the courtyard.

Faces of aristocracy both familiar and new mix with the servants' of both Lady and Baron's household as the Lady's Maid wanders the courtyard where scents of spring waft through the air. The edges of soft blonde catches her attention, and she turns, catching his eyes just as he does the same. There is a moment then, where they stare and look, soaking in every feature of the other, neither one willing to break away first. He is dressed just like the night of the ball, a single lily tucked into his breast pocket.

A mirror, and unconsciously she curls her fingers more firmly around the flower in her hands. His feet shift, as though to move towards her, a shadow, the beginnings of a smile playing on the edges of his lips-

The bells brought by the clergy toll, the practising band quiets, and she loses him as both guests and servants scurry over to their respective seats and stations. She settles herself at the far end of the front row, besides the Housekeeper. A curl of hair on the head of a shuffling occupant dangles within her vision, and Lien lifts her head slightly to see Mei beaming at her, excitement in her eyes that she returns with a twitch of her mouth.

The ceremony progresses under the drifting petals of the dogwood tree, flowers unfurling in the cool breezes that brought with them the scents of fragrances from all corners of the garden. True to her thoughts, her Lady really did become a blushing mess of a bride, joy evident in both her face and the Baron's as she walks down the aisle and reaches his side.

The resounding cheers that swept the floor when the priest closed his book with a crinkled beam and the newlyweds kissed in jointed matrimony were thunderous, most of which - and Lien finds herself stifling laughter as she claps along - coming from the households servants. The nobles, while scandalised, slowly begin to relax as their contagious elation spread, many spilling words of congratulations from their mouths while a few started to mingle with the servants. Young women clamour for the tossed bouquet of roses and lilies, and the makeshift rows of chairs are removed quickly for the Baron to whisk his bride into the large space for a first dance.

As the band starts a lively rendition of waltz music Lien distances herself from the crowd, catching glimpses of the dancing couple and their laughter as they twirled together. She twiddles the lily in her fingers idly, thoughtful as the smile fades from her lips, before slipping away from the celebrations.

The aimless walk through the gardens was silent, peaceful, and she finds herself mulling over the valet's words. To elope. The notion of it does not quite bother or frighten her as much as it used to. The memory of joy that radiates off Lady and Baron, the flowers that fell over them, the playful, tender gazes, the love. If she could feel that, be like that with him, then, then there was nothing to fear, regardless of consequences.

Lien halts, her face warm.

Perhaps, one day, if her Lady did not need her anymore, if she was kind enough to let her go, perhaps then..?

A pair of shoes walks into her line of sight, and hurriedly she blinks away the haze behind her eyes as she looks up, resisting the urge to rub them. Across her the valet stands, indigo eyes mimicking her slow blink as he saunters up to her, curling a gloved hand over the lily in her hands before pulling it from her grasp and tucking it behind her ear.

Perhaps, now?

"Slow blinks," he says as he tugs her along, fingers interlacing with hers, "is how a cat kisses."

Lukas relishes the odd little noise that leaves her mouth when she swallows her laugh. "That was purely accidental." She heaves a sigh, looking at their entwined hands. "Besides, we are no cats."

"Which is why, as humans, we should do our kisses right." He pulls her into the shadow of a flowering magnolia, gaze tender as he looks at her, watching nervous hesitation flicker briefly over face before she closes her eyes.

He meets her halfway, cupping her cheeks as she leans up to press his lips on hers, the scent of lilies strong around them as their mouths mould together. Slow and warm, he parts away first. Lien keeps her eyes close, breathing him in softly until the clinking of metal close to her ear causes her to open her eyes.

Metal bands glitter where sunlight reflects off their edges, gold and silver. A promise. Lien looks at the rings in his hand before back at Lukas, eyes wide with disbelief. The latter shrugs at her, but there was no missing the almost tense, awaiting look in his eyes. When she kisses him again, soft yet firm with trembling hands and shaky breaths he smiles, curling his hands around hers, for that was all the answer he needed to know.

Soon.

...

A/N

I swear, coming up with titles are either hit or miss for me. Even as I write out this author's note, I'm still thinking of what to name this :/ It's going to be the last thing I write lol.

Anyways, here's the first fic of 2016 starring the closest thing I have to a rarepair otp hahaha. I really like those long maid dresses and uniforms with sashes and lace and ribbons as well as butlers' uniforms with their vests and suits and ties/bows/buttons so this was born lol. This was initially just going to be a guilty pleasure fluff fic with pretty clothing and nice scenes but then research and tension (evitable if its these two) happened so there we go.

The Valet and Lady's maid are two of the most important personal servants to the nobility although it is still the housekeeper who holds the most power in the servant hierarchy. It really doesn't matter because I didn't go in depth with my portrayal and there a lot of overlapping of duties with the other servants like normal butlers and chambermaids.

There is no particular time period or setting in any country in this so don't think too much into the customs (like the bouquet throwing). It's just there because I wanna write fancy.

So, promise rings in the end hahahah yay. First time writing a wedding too. There is a bit of parallelism between the Lady and Baron and Lukas and Lien (like the way they fall in love, the promise). I hope you caught it. Also, the L of the lavender ribbon was custom-made, embroidered in. But that L can actually stand for a lot of things depending on how you look at it and how far you are willing to stretch the cleverness of Lukas's mind B) . One or both of their names, (the colour itself, even the memory of lilies, Lord/Lady hmmmmM.)

Dang, I have still not thought of a title yet.

Edit: someone told me to slap some nutcracker music title name for the title since I was listening to it on repeat while writing this and what do you know Pas de deux actually works as a somewhat coherent analogy hallejulah. Funny because this and Waltz of the Flowers are the two songs that I just played on repeat for like 5 hours.