Lessons in Housekeeping – Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER:I do not own Hetalia

The next morning…

Urgh..gah! What is that? Tiesa was brought back into the world of the living by a rather disruptive beam of early afternoon light which was lancing through her windowpane and right across her face. It took a few minutes for all of her senses to come back; first a vague feeling of self-awareness, then her hearing, and finally her eyesight. She blinked in rapid succession, her mouth very dry and bitter. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth - she was dehydrated.

Her bed didn't feel right; she shifted herself into a slight sitting position and looked down. Oh. That would probably be why…

Tiesa frowned, fingering the sleeve of her blouse. Why am I still fully clothed? …And on top of my sheets, for that matter? Another thought dawned on her still sleepy brain.

Wait – why am I even waking up this late in the first place?! Where the Hell is my clock!

She sat up even further, alarmed. Every morning Tiesa got up promptly at six in order to brew coffee and make breakfast for the household. And here she was, still in bed, at...I really need to find that clock. She had to get up and see to Alfred – what if he needed something? What if he was angry with her for sleeping in so late? She swung her legs off the side of the bed, realizing as her feet made contact with the cold wooden floor that she wasn't wearing any shoes.

It was during her attempt to get up she discovered a slight pounding in her head, a general all over ache which permeated her skull…and the faint bruise on her wrist. What? Then it all came rushing back, so vividly and so quickly Tiesa almost literally lost her breath. She sat back down on the bed, suddenly tired again. A heavy feeling made itself comfortable in her chest.

She could recall almost everything, from the way the beer had tasted to her panic when Rod wouldn't let go. She could remember the resurfacing of it. Tiesa closed her eyes, breathing deep and slow as she felt her heart rate pick up. No…no. Don't think about it. Gradually she coached herself down from the impending hysteria, banishing every thought which would have unlocked her Pandora's Box of repressed experiences.

"Tori?" Alfred's voice was softer sounding than usual, accompanied by a light knocking on the door. "You awake yet?"

"Yes, I'll be right out!" What should I say about what happened? I can't explain…Tiesa sighed as she heaved herself off of the bed. I'll wait and see what he says – take it from there.

She quickly peeled off her day-old clothes, buttoned up a fresh blouse, slid into a new skirt. She brushed out her sleep-matted braid, making sure to neatly re-plait it once all of the tangles were removed. Tiesa slipped on her shoes, situating her necklace underneath the collar of her shirt as she did so.

The young woman was dreading going out into the kitchen, abandoning the safe and isolated confines of her little room. What would she find when she went out there? A mess, no doubt - a mess she'd have to clean. Alfred and Miss Josephine probably weren't very happy she'd slept in, additionally. Would she be reprimanded? Finally treated like the hired help she was?

Taking a deep breath, Tiesa gathered her sensibility and opened the door. Taking a step out of the room, she –

"AH!" …ran straight into Alfred. The young man scrambled away from her, eyes wide as if expectant, or fearful.

"I'm sorry, Tori," he winced. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Because if I did…"

"No, no," Tiesa assured him. "It was only a little scare…" little scare? Her heart felt like a hammer, pounding away in her chest. Get a hold of yourself! "I'm sorry I've woken up so late," she went on to apologize, getting it out of the way before she lost her nerve. "…but I seem to have misplaced my alarm clock…"

Alfred relaxed a little, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. "Yeah," he nodded. "That's because I took it."

Tiesa blinked. She furrowed her brows and raised a questioning finger. "You…?" Why on earth would he take my clock!? Had she even heard that right?

He nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders, slightly abashed but still very matter-of-fact. "I figured you'd want to sleep after what happened last night…"

Tiesa bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed. Oh God, what happened? I can't remember anything after…well…after she'd gotten tangled in the occurrences of the past, all other events of the evening had been wiped from her memory as if they'd never happened. She could have danced on tabletops until the sun came up, or spent the entire evening curled up in a corner after she'd encountered Rod. All Tiesa knew for sure was somehow she'd ended up back in her room, and she probably hadn't ended up there on her own accord.

Oblivious to the young woman's internal scavenger hunt for her lost recollections, Alfred continued. "…and our very own little Miss Josie needed to get up early this morning."

"What do you - ?" her question was interrupted by the furious whirlwind that was Miss Josephine.

The young woman stomped into the kitchen, short hair bedraggled and flying every which way. This was the most un-put together Tiesa had ever seen Josephine, and frankly it was rather startling. In the other woman's arms was a bag full of what appeared to be empty beer bottles. She was still in her embroidered silk morning robe and slippers, her eyes alight with malice despite the bags under them.

"This work is insufferable, Alfred," she snarled, tossing the bag to the floor. "Why the Hell are you making me do this?"

Alfred leaned against the counter. He was fully clothed and looked…almost like he was secretly enjoying this. But then again Tiesa might be assuming too much.

"Oh, come on, Josie," he picked up an apple and gave it a toss, not making eye contact with his fiancée. "The party was your idea to begin with. I don't think we should wake tori just to clean your mess."

Josephine gave him a look that might have withered even Felicja. Then she turned it towards Tiesa, regreatabbly. Tiesa winced. Here comes that scolding I was worried about…

"She's sure as Hell awake now, Alfred, dearest," the words were venom. And Tiesa felt very much the hapless prey.

"Ah, Miss Josephine," she began to reach for an apron, kept in the cabinet outside her quarters. "I'd be happy to help you – "

Alfred put a firm hand on the cabinet, preventing her access. "Can't let ya, Tori. You're not allowed to clean today."

"W-what?"

Josephine's complexion was getting splotchy, and more so by the second. "WHAT?! It's her job."

"Pardon? Not until you apologize," Alfred took a bite out of the apple, one hand still on the cabinet. Probably because Tiesa was still vainly trying to get it open. At least, until her employer's conversation took a turn that piqued her awareness. Apologize? What?

Josephine sucked in her cheeks exasperatedly. "Why, whatever for?"

"You know what for, Josie."

There was a moment of complete stillness in the room, all present parties watching the other. It wasn't broken until Josephine sighed, and shifting her gaze to the floor, put her hands on her hips. When she finally looked Tiesa in the eyes, the malice was gone from her hungover gaze and she was smiling in a saccharine, ladylike manner.

"I'm sorry I tried to fix you up with a drunk guy," she said. Tiesa's throat closed up, her ears beginning to ring. "In my defense, I thought he was completely sober. And I'm sorry he accidentally – " Josephine shot a neutral look at Alfred "- freaked you out...or something."

It took Tiesa a moment to get her bearings. "So, that's what happened?" Her voice was more even than she felt. "Don't blame yourself, Miss Josephine. You had only the best of intentions." Even saying that much made her want to throw up. She wasn't sad, or hurt, or anything as such. Tiesa was livid; it took all her self-control to maintain an aura of professionalism.

Josephine made noise that could have been derision, or perhaps something else. Anyhow it didn't sound either gracious or apologetic. "Thank you, Tammy," she sniffed before sweeping out of the room with the dramatic flair she so very much loved to use.

Tiesa took a brief moment to shift her focus from her anger to the matters at hand – like her job, for instance. Anger could wait until she was alone in her quarters for the evening.

She turned to Alfred. "Am I still allowed to cook?" She asked with an unbidden half-smile.

Alfred shrugged. "It's your call. Though I could make some eggs…I think…maybe…if you don't want too?"

Tiesa felt that he really meant it, but she also didn't really feel like eating half-cooked scrambled eggs for the rest of the day. She started making a quick, easy meal – sandwiches – despite Alfred's protests.

"I mean, really, it's not that hard to make a sandwich," he tried dissuading her. "I could do it."

"Mr. Jones, it's really no trouble."

"Alfred, remember?"

"Force of habit."

Sandwiches were indeed simple, but she couldn't help but notice Alfred's lingering gaze – not in a dirty way, more like a protective default. He flinched with every clink of silverware on china, every cupboard door closing. He slowly sidled around the kitchen, shadowing her as she prepared the meal. Perhaps it was the events of the previous night, or the fact she was already angry, but Tiesa was finding his hyper-awareness irritating.

"If you're so worried about your china, I could use different plates," she said lightly, trying to turn it into a joke.

Alfred visibly reddened. He cleared his throat. "No, no it's nothing like that…" he trailed off, apparently embarrassed at having been caught out. "I could care less about china plates, honestly."

She nodded and went back to preparing the food, feeling his eyes on her. Worried about plates or no, he didn't look or act any less anxious. When Tiesa couldn't reach a jar of unopened olives, he grabbed it before she came back with the stepping stool. And when she got the vegetables out of the ice box for salad, he was already holding the knife and cutting board.

"I can cut the vegetables," he offered, hopefully.

Tiesa raised an eyebrow. This wasn't very Alfred-like behavior. At all.

"What's this about?" she asked, pulling out the meat. Though she had a hunch she already knew. And she was cursing both herself and Josephine for it. The last thing she needed right now was to be treated like the shrinking violet she was attempting not to be.

"Uh...," Alfred shifted his feet. "It's…"

"I'm not made of glass, Alfred," she admonished softly. Tiesa gently took the knife from his hand, handle first, and set it on the counter beside the cutting board, blade facing inwards. "Why don't you go help Miss Josephine? Lunch will be ready for both of you in a few minutes."

And it would have been done a lot sooner with no one underfoot.

"Aren't you eating here?" His expression was quizzical and faintly alarmed. "You are eating, aren't you?"

"I'm just going in to town to run some errands," she pulled out the kettle to heat up some water. "I'll have lunch with Felicja while I'm there." She wanted to minimize her interactions with Miss Josephine for the time being; she didn't want to do anything rash. And speaking of town… "Do you think you could make up a Christmas list for me? Things like food, decorations...? I need to know what we'll need for the holidays."

That should distract him for a while.

And sure enough, it did. By the time the meal was done, Alfred had written down everything rather hastily on a half-sheet of paper. They made a trade – the shopping list and car keys for the sandwiches.

"Thank you, Alfred," she slipped on her shoes, and was reaching for her coat hanging by the servant's entrance. Alfred hovered beside her, deadest on seeing her out. He held the food awkwardly in his hands.

"Tori?"

"Yes?"

"...don't be too long."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

He'd almost said, "Be safe," but decided not to at the last second. Of course she was going to be safe, it was just a run into town for groceries and Christmas necessities. And it was inappropriate as befitting their relationship, which was already awkward enough with Josephine here throwing off their balance. But somehow, Alfred still felt he should have said it. He really did care about her safety.

He had wanted to ask her about what had happened last night, but he couldn't muster the courage. He didn't want to make her angry; she hadn't given any indication of wanting to talk about it, so he hadn't pressed. He didn't want to make her go into any sort of relapse. Maybe she couldn't remember?

He bit his tongue in frustration and walked to where Josephine was begrudgingly cleaning up. Alfred had been more annoying than he intended when Tori was making lunch, hovering over her like that. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself, he just couldn't shake this worried feeling. Setting her in her bed last night after the episode, he had to force himself to leave her alone in the room.

Come back to Earth, Alfred.

He handed Josephine her plate and sat down. She picked up the sandwich with two fingers and inspected it. "Did Talia make this?"

Alfred nodded, trying to keep conversation to a minimum. He still couldn't bear to look Josephine full on in the face. "Tori made them."

"If she can cook, why can't she clean? She's ruining my complexion." Josephine let the sandwich drop back onto the plate. "Did you watch her make them?"

"…Does it matter?" He picked at his side salad. He really didn't want to listen to his fiancée talk about his friend right now. He thought about Tori, putting her coat and shoes on at the door. He'd told her she was free to use the main entrance when she started working, but she insisted on using the servants' door.

"She could have put something in it."

Alfred snorted with derision. "Tori wouldn't do that."

"How do you know?"

He frowned, glaring at her. "Because she's my friend, Josephine. Maybe if you'd start treating her like a human being you wouldn't have to worry about people messing with your food."

"Tch," Josephine dumped the contents of the plate into a garbage bag, then sat back to nurse her coffee. "Did you watch her –"

"Yes, I watched her make the goddamn coffee. But only because I was there, talking to her, like a friend does, not because I don't trust her," he snapped.

This side of Josephine was new to him. He'd begun to gather she liked to put on a bit of a show, but whether it was to keep her fortune or to keep him interested he didn't really care. She was incredibly fake. And if this was the real her, well then…

I should have paid more attention to her personality than to her assets. Then maybe I would have been a little more prepared.

But there was only so much preparing one could do for a toxic personality who liked to put friends in dangerous situations for fun. He had to spend the rest of his life with this woman, the one sitting across from him taking tentative sips of most-certainly-not-poisoned coffee. A familiar feeling came over him then, one of struggling, of helplessness. He felt his life was just something he couldn't control anymore, not since his marriage was arranged. And for what? A nice house and some money?

Lord, help me...

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Tiesa held the wrinkled list in her gloved fingers. Written on it were things like ham, popped corn, cranberries, candles, tinsel...it made her think of the holidays she used to spend with her family. The cold wind blew through the streets, but she hardly felt it for all the people pressing up against her. All the holiday shoppers were out, carrying both food and toys in their arms.

She was standing in front of the tailor shop, looking through the display window. Lunch with Felicja had been a lie. It was the energetic woman's day off, and the only reason Tiesa was spending time near her workplace was because she'd seen some nice-looking pocket squares inside. Window shopping was the easiest kind. There was a crimson pocket square, folded neatly for display with a golden pin in the center, that she imagined herself buying and presenting to Alfred.

She sighed.

Another life. One with someone who isn't engaged.

She turned to continue on her way to the butchers shop, but for the second time that day, ran straight into someone. She was knocked to the ground, the cold and wet seeping through the seat of her coat. Tiesa looked up, blinking, at the huge panic-stricken figure blocking out the sunlight. She got up and snatched the list off the ground before the damp made the ink run.

"I'm sorry," she said, brushing herself off. The man was frozen in place, having not moved since they collided. He was young-looking. She looked closer. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Sir?"

The man seemed to break out of his trance. "…No. Not at all." His speech was incredibly stiff. "Are you alright, miss?"

Tiesa smiled. "Yes, I apologize. The fault is all mine. I was caught up in the holiday shopping and wasn't looking where I was going."

The man wasn't meeting her gaze. He absolutely towered over her. His face was handsome, but a little gruff looking. He began to walk away. "None taken. Have a good –"

"Have we met before?" Something in the back of her mind was just itching…she couldn't place his face. There was something familiar…

"...No," his eyes were wide.

"Are you sure? It's the strangest thing..."

"Miss, I need to get going."

"Oh! Oh, sorry. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Tiesa continued down the sidewalk towards the butcher shop, trying to remember where she heard that voice, seen that face...

I could have sworn I knew him from somewhere...but you think I'd remember meeting someone as tall as his is...strange.

But as strange at the encounter was, she already found it fading from memory as she went about the errands. A meaningless encounter. She was certain of it.

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"Fuck, Fuck, Fuck," Demyan muttered as he shouldered past shoppers, trying to put as much distance between him and the tailor shop as possible. He was trying to look natural, but his harried appearance and towering height made that feat hard to accomplish.

He had blown it. And he'd blown it big time

It had been a normal day thus far; waking up in his rented room, scanning the paper, checking in with and reporting his previous days findings back to headquarters. Then breakfast in the back booth of the diner downstairs, and driving his newly purchased car up into the woods by the Kirkland Estate. Binoculars and a notepad were his only company. He'd been here two weeks, and he had yet to get a look in at the woman Josie had told him about. Then she'd left by herself, and he'd seized his opportunity to trail her.

He'd been walking past her on the street, trying to get a good look at her face...and what a look he'd gotten. Conversation. He'd held a mother fucking conversation with his goddamn target. So much for professionalism. But now the primary question remained; was it her? Two weeks trailing this dame and he had yet to gain confirmation that she was, in fact, Tori Laurinaitė. Josie's word alone was good enough for Demyan.

It was, however, nowhere near as satisfactory for Mr. Braginki. For Ivan.

Demyan shivered, walking into the diner he currently resided over. The man insisted on being called that, but when would he realize his whole persona just seemed down right unnatural? That was why no one talked to him, or more to the point particularly liked him. Demyan had yet to see the guy go bat shit insane, but he'd heard stories. And he'd seen what he'd done to guys when he was completely lucid, if he ever was. Word in the lower ranks of the business was Master Ivan was planning a coup to take over the family business, wrest it from his uncle's grip in one fell swoop.

And here I am, running around after a woman of questionable identity like an errand boy.

He ordered a whisky on the rocks and turned his thoughts to something no less disturbing. That woman - had it been her? His face to face contact with her had always been so brief, even though he'd been stationed at headquarters the same time she'd been working there. He tried not to acknowledge or give notice of domestic workers too much; he barely made any more than they did, and yet there he stood like their goddamned superior. It made him uncomfortable to wield power over other people.

It could be her, he reasoned...if her face was a little leaner with age, her hair a little longer… bullshit - women stopped growing sooner than guys did, she still looked barely out of her teens.

But, at the same time, how could he be sure? He had only seen the girl's face for a few fleeting memorable seconds, and he really didn't want to remember those moments in particular anyway. He couldn't walk up to the woman he had been told was the right girl and say "Are you, by any chance, Tori Laurinatė?"

What if she wasn't? Or even worse, what if she was? A guy lookin' like him guessin' some dames name out of nowhere, and any sensible lady would have the law hiding his ass faster than the eye could blink.

He nursed his whisky. He didn't even want to turn her in. He didn't think he could put someone through that kind of hell. But what choice did her have? He couldn't back out now. Both his and Josie's necks were on the line, whether the latter realized it or not. And she didn't even know he was in town.

It was going to be a miserable Christmas.

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The sun was shining brightly, warming the sand of the glittering beach. Alfred jumped in the surf, laughing and playing as the weak current tugged at his legs. He was happy. Mom and Dad were holding hands on the shore behind him, he'd found a big shell to keep…what was that? There was something in the water, bobbing up and down in the waves. He was ecstatic, overjoyed to have found something new and exciting. He swan out to it, turned it over and then Matthieu was looking at him with dead eyes, flesh turning green and water streaming from decayed nostrils and eye sockets, opening his mouth full of crumbling teeth to say something and then -

Alfred woke with a gasp and a start, breathing heavily. His nightclothes stuck to him, damp with sweat. The sheets were twisted mercilessly around his legs, cutting off his circulation. He kicked them off with a little more fervor than needed. He hadn't had that dream in a while. It used to frequent his nights constantly, especially right after Matthieu had died. He hadn't endured it's terrors in years. Why tonight?

Goddamn that fucking dream.

He rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked over, Josephine was still asleep, her head sandwiches between a pillow and the mattress. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. He knew from experience he'd be up the rest of the night, his brother's dead eyes watching him whenever he closed his eyelids.

He got out of bed, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him, and made his way downstairs. Maybe he'd scrounge around in the pantry for a bit, stoke up the fire so Tori wouldn't have to when she got up. He rounded the corner to the kitchen, and was surprised to see his friend sitting at the kitchen table. There was an oil lamp in front of her, a book propped up on her lap.

"Little early to be up reading, don't you think?"

Tori visibly jolted upwards. "Jesus, Mary, and –!"

"Sorry, sorry," Alfred suppressed some laughter. "I didn't mean to scare you..."

Tori sat back down shaking her head and smiling, closing her book. "I could say the same of you, Alfred. Why are you up this early?"

He scuffed the floor with a bare foot, shrugging. "Uh...," he cleared his throat. "Just a dream, you know. Not that it scared me or anything, I just can't get back to sleep now...you?"

There was a hesitant pause on her part, then, "...Same here."

Alfred took a seat next to her. He had never seen her dressed in so little before; just a simple nightgown. Her hair was loose, waving over her shoulders and catching the rays of the lamp. In the low light he could just make out the title of the book, engraved in the leather spine with scrolling gold letters; Grimm's Fairy Tales. Cinderella, Rumplestiltskin, Snow White… He felt a lurch in his chest, a tightening of his windpipe that was completely unrelated to thoughts of his family.

"That's not the best thing to be reading if you don't want to have nightmares," he poked fun at her. "My mom used to read me and my brother to sleep with that book. It terrified him."

Tiesa grinned in that subtle way she had; more with her eyes than with her mouth. "And not you?"

"Nah. I was the bravest three-year-old you've ever seen."

They laughed a little, then it petered off into more silence.

"I mean, it really is stupid," Alfred continued. "The dream, I mean. It always starts out the same. I'm walking down the beach and then..." He hesitated before saying the next part. "Do you ever wish you could go back and change the past?"

Tori thought about it, turning it over in her mind for a while before answering.

"I think everyone does at some point. It's natural."

Alfred shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "God...do you want some coffee?"

Tori raised her eyebrows. "That depends. Do you know how to make it?"

"Uhh…"

"Come on, I'll show you."

Little did he know it was at that moment exactly Tori got an idea, one which concerned Alfred himself and the contents of the attic. Instead, he spent until dawn learning about the intricacies of making coffee - and good stuff, at that. Then after coffee, it was poached eggs and French toast. By the time Josephine trudged downstairs at eleven, an entire breakfast feast had been put out on the table.

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Christmas 1925, the Virginia Kirkland Estate

Things on the Kirkland Estate gradually grew more and more festive as Christmas drew near. Alfred surprised the women of the household with a pine tree not long after the incident at the party. Predictably one of them was more enthused than the other. Cranberries, popped corn, candles, and tinsel were all strung up in the tree's fresh-smelling branches. When Tiesa asked him where he got it, Alfred said he would rather not say and they left it at that (although she did notice, on her drives into town from then on, that one of the neighbors' backyards seemed to be missing something rather tree-like). Josephine took Alfred caroling with some friends she had who lived in Maryland, and occasionally Alfred would try to convince his fiancée to go walk in the snow with him that had accumulated on the estate.

She was serving Alfred and Josephine their morning coffee by the fire two days before Christmas when he asked her, "Hey, Tori, what's Christmas like with your family?"

She shrugged, putting a warm cup of blonde coffee – three sugars, half cream – down in front of a rather comatose Josephine. "Rather like Christmas here, but with its own special twists I would imagine – there's your coffee, Miss Josephine – I wouldn't really know. I've never had an American-style Christmas."

Alfred leaned back in his chair. "Really? I have an idea."

Josephine rolled her eyes. "Oh, darling, another one?"

He ignored her, much to Tiesa's secret delight. "Since I showed you Kirkland traditions for Thanksgiving, why don't we give you a turn and you show us Laurinatė Christmas traditions?"

She smiled, bemused that he assumed Laurinatė was her family name. While it was, it was in the feminine unmarried form. "Are you sure, Alfred? I wouldn't want to impose…" She looked at Josephine who seemed infinitely more interested in her drink than the conversation.

"Nah, we'd be perfectly fine with it. Right, Josie?"

"Hm," Josephine hummed.

And so Christmas Eve was spent spreading a tablecloth over the big oaken monstrosity in the dining room, with hay sprinkled over the top. Alfred was full of questions, and Tiesa patiently and willingly answered each one.

"What's the hay for?"

"It represents the manger Jesus was laid in."

"There's only three of us, why the extra plates?"

"I figured to set one out for Mister Kirkland and General Hughes. That's what you do when a family member can't make it to Christmas Eve dinner."

"Put one out for your family, go on, I insist. What're we having?"

"Fish, cranberry pudding, bread, potatoes, mushroom dumplings, and soup."

His questions amused her to no end. Alfred was so quizzical; usually he didn't even acknowledge the fact that she wasn't a true-born American citizen, like Josephine loved to do. The sudden interest in her Lithuanian culture was surprising, but a nice change. She liked being able to share things about herself with him, and was eager to supply him answers to his queries. Dinner was a quiet and enjoyable affiar, with everyone taking a little bit of every dish. Josephine didn't even complain – tremendously, at least.

Afterwards the party of three found themselves situated around the tree by the fireplace. Tiesa was standing to the side, dutiful and silent, waiting for her services to be called upon. Then Josephine handed her a small box.

"Here."

"Oh! Miss Josephine, thank you…but you shouldn't have. You didn't need to get me anything." She looked at the box with both surprise and apprehension. It was completely unexpected, and completely out of character. Inside was a rather underwhelming necklace with a broken clasp.

Josephine waved a hand absently, holding a glass of sherry in the other. "It was no trouble. It's one of my older pieces. Don't worry about it, Tina."

Then she pulled another small box from under the tree and handed it to Alfred. Inside was a gold pocket watch. "A family heirloom," she purred. "So we can count every minute together, darling..."

Alfred smiled. "Thank you, Josie."

Tiesa watched passively, but she couldn't deny that a pang of jealousy went through her when Alfred put it in his pocket.

He prefers wrist watches, anyway.

Then it was Alfred's turn to give his gift – another small box. Josephine unwrapped it – a wedding ring nestled inside a velvet jewelry pouch. Tiesa peered over her shoulder to get a look at the ring; the band was silver, and there was one diamond set in the center. She had never personally known someone with a diamond in their wedding ring; her own mother had never even had one.

"Oh, Alfred...it's...it's...," Josephine was reaching for words.

Beautiful...Tiesa couldn't help thinking, but didn't dare say. The diamond reflected the firelight, a thousand reflections dancing in its center. The silver band was thin and delicate – elegant.

"It was my mother's," Alfred told them, looking at it. Tiesa could detect the slightest hint of pride in his voice. She would have been prideful, too, were her mother rich and tasteful enough to purchase a piece of jewelry such as this.

Josephine turned it over in her hand, inspecting it. "Is it missing a stone? It's so small…"

Alfred spoke quietly, "No. That's the way it is."

The woman pursed her lips. "Oh...I'll just put it right here then...until I get it sized. Thank you, darling." She pecked him on the lips and set the jewelry pouch on the coffee table. Getting up, Josephine stretched languidly, once again paying Tiesa no mind. "I'm going to bed. Come join me, Alfred."

Tiesa's stomach clenched, and she began to gather up the paper scattered on the floor, assuming Alfred would take the invitation to share Josephine's bed.

It'll just have to wait until tomorrow.

Alfred leaned forward and pocketed the wedding ring. "Maybe later, Josie. I'm going to stay up a while."

"If you insist," Josephine swaggered away and up the stairs. Tiesa couldn't believe it; she could do it tonight after all. Once Josephine was safely gone and the room had been cleared on debris, Tiesa presented herself before her employer. He had been looking at the ring, turning it in his fingers. He glanced up, expectant and smiling tiredly.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea…

"Need something?" he asked her.

No going back now.

"I...Alfred, I got you something."

"Gah!" He looked horrified. "Tori! I told you, you didn't have to! Believe me, I've got enough crap as it is. Was it because Josephine gave you something? Because I had no idea –"

"No, no," she cut him off, eager. " Just hear me out." She hurried from the parlor to her quarters, grabbing the worn little box she had stuffed underneath her bed. She presented it to him proudly.

"There you are," she said as she handed it over, grinning wildly. She took a seat beside him, a good arm's length away.

Alfred shook his head with a laugh. "Well I'll admit, you've piqued my interest." He carefully untied the twine holding it closed and bent back the lid. He stared. He shifted his gaze from the box to Tiesa, from Tiesa to the box, and back again. Inside were some old photographs, a woman's ornate decorative hair comb, a pretty broach, and a little white stuffed bear in addition to some children's books among a small variation of some other small toys like yoyos and spinning tops.

"Tori...," he picked up the bear. She steeled herself for reprimand.

I've finally done it. I've crossed a line, haven't I?

Alfred continued, "I...I thought he'd thrown it all away..."

And that was when Tiesa knew she'd been right. "It's hard to let go of the past," she told him. "I was reorganizing up in the attic about a month ago and found these. Then you expressed your desire to change things in the past, and well...I thought I might as well bring the past to you. You can't change it, but you can remember the good things."

He held the ring and bear in his hands for a while, staring at them intently. Studying them in silence. Tiesa let him have his moment, watching the shadows cast by the fire morph his expression into something that seemed almost like sadness.

"It's an arranged marriage you know," he said, finally, after a while.

"W-what?"

"This thing between me and Josephine. It's a last-ditch ploy by our parents to make us take some responsibility – so we learn how to behave ourselves. He threatened to cut me off, if I didn't do it. And the worst part? It's working. Somehow, this horrible woman is making me a better person."

Tiesa was stunned. Out of all the things she had been expecting Alfred to say, this was not one of them. She didn't know quite what to say. "I'm sure your father means well at heart…" she began.

"I doubt he's ever cared."

Tiesa moved closer, feeling helpless. She had a great relationship with her own parents – Alfred's situation was one with which she had little experience. So she felt around within her for what seemed right to say, and said it.

"I'm sure he does – it's just been so long, he doesn't know how to express it the way he wants."

Alfred held the ring up to the firelight once more, engrossed by it.

"It's very beautiful," she told him, feeling like she could speak freely when it wasn't in Miss Josephine's hands.

He pocketed it. "Thank you…I thought this was the only thing he saved after she died...and all this time it's all just been sitting up in the attic!" He laughed, a mix of bitterness and relief. "Was there anything else?"

Tiesa nodded. "Yes, a lot."

Alfred grinned. "Great - I can't wait to go through it!"

There was some silence, then, both individuals caught up in their separate thoughts. It was peaceful. Tiesa had one question, ever since she'd found the boxes in the attic, and she figured now would be the time to ask it. She wanted to know more about the woman despite herself; the woman with the low-cut wedding dress and whose death was so traumatic all evidence of her existence had to be hidden away.

"Alfred - how did your mother die?"

It took him a while to answer, so long she was beginning to think he wouldn't.

"...She got sick. And then she was gone, just like Matthew was. But Matthew died first...his passing was hard on my parents' marriage."

Then he turned to her, head tilted to the side the way it did when he had something to ask. "What about you, Tori? Where are you from? This Christmas was the most interesting I've ever had; it's gotta be someplace neat."

Tori was about to break another one of her rules, she felt it. Before she could stop herself, she told him.

"I'm from Lithuania."

It was like some burden was lifted from her shoulders; some people would need to fear the loss of their jobs or pay cuts or even discrimination depending on where they came from. As a general rule to prevent this and to keep herself from getting too close to her employers, she typically didn't share her personal history.

"Lithuania? Where's that?"

"It's on the Baltic sea - right next to Russia."

Alfred was quiet for a moment, visualizing. "...What's it like?"

Tiesa looked up at the ceiling, calling on her memories of her childhood and early teen years. "A lot like Virginia, actually. We have heat in the summer, lots of snow in the winter...it's a lot flatter, though! We were able to grow lots of things, but then..."

Alfred nodded knowingly. "Shit happened?"

"Yes. I came over here to find work. I use half the money I earn to support my family."

"You're all alone over here?" He looked incredibly sad right there. She wanted to tell him that she had made a new family of sorts, in both him and Felicja, but she knew that would be entirely inappropriate.

"My mother, my father, my brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins...all are in Lithuania. I miss them."

"I know how you feel."

Tiesa then felt the familiar lump under blouse, resting just above her breasts. She withdrew her necklace and slide it over her head, showing it to him. She figured it was only fitting since she had seen his treasures, that he should see one of hers.

" My mother gave this to me before I left so I would remember her, and to sell, if I ever needed money."

"What's it made out of?" He was looking at it, gingerly prodding at it as it lay in her palm.

"Amber. It grows and hardens on trees – very, very old tree sap. Like…like a rock"

"…fossilized?"

"Yes! That's the word."

Alfred looked a little closer, then his eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, I remember, you were wearing that at thanksgiving, weren't you?"

"I wear it all the time," she informed him.

He looked at her then, and she felt…nice. This was a sort of looking that felt private, but exhibitionary at the same time. She averted her gaze, slightly flustered.

Get ahold of yourself!

"Tori...I don't know how to thank you."

"Then don't. The happiness of a friend is a gift in itself."

He chewed on his lip for a moment, then glanced up. An epiphany.

"...When's your birthday?"

"Oh, Alfred, please, you don't need to –"

"I'll find out. That's a promise," he was grinning mischievously.

Tiesa cleared her throat, eager to shift the focus of attention. "Hm...it's getting late. I should be going to bed soon. I need to get up so I can go meet Felicja for Christmas lunch."

She got up and began to walk away.

"Tori, wait," he said. She turned, and then he was there. She could feel the residual warmth from the fire radiating off of his sweater. He smelled like home-cooking and smoke and cologne – good smells.

"I do want to thank you for this. It's the best present I've ever received. May I have your permission to kiss your hand?"

"What?! Why?"

"Do I have it, or not?"

Tiesa could hear her heartbeat in her ears. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. But somehow she summoned the words and she said them.

"…You have it."

He gently took her hand, the first time she could remember since Thanksgiving. He looked her in the eyes the entire time, and gently pressed his lips to her skin. It tingled where their bodies met in a wonderful way, one she had never known before. Then it was over and her hand was once more hanging by her side.

"Good night, Tori."

"Good night, Alfred."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"It's a WHAT?" Felicja's scream pierced her eardrum.

"Shhh, keep it down...," she motioned for her friend to keep her voice down. They were helping clean up after Christmas luncheon at Joseph's parent's house. Over the course of the stay, Tiesa had been formerly introduced to no less than five eligible male members of his family. Not that any of them really caught her fancy.

"This is PERFECT, Esa! She's a bitch, he hates her, and the marriage is arranged! Make your move now!" the blonde was practically vibrating with excitement. Tiesa wouldn't have been surprised if her hastily set hairpins went shooting around the tiny kitchen.

"I can't do that," she insisted quietly, trying to maintain an air of normalcy by grabbing a plate to dry. The two of them were beginning to attract attention.

Felicja rolled her eyes and slumped against the sink, getting the front of her holiday dress sopping wet. She didn't seem to notice. "Oh god, are you still –"

"Even if I did like him – and I don't – he couldn't be interested in me without getting his inheritance revoked..."

Felicja snorted, dumping a handful of silverware into the sudsy water. "Pft! Like, who's the old windbag gonna give it to otherwise? It's not like he has another kid stashed away, someplace, somewhere, somehow." She began scrubbing with fervor – Felicja did everything with fervor.

"Can we stop talking about this? Please?"

The blonde whipped a soapy hand out of the sink and bopped Tiesa firmly on the nose.

"Ow!"

"Oh no, no. I'm going to talk about this until you FINALLY GET THE CHICK BALLS TO ASK HIM OUT."

If there was a solitary soul in that five foot by five foot kitchen that hadn't been giving them the hairy eyeball before, they certainly were now. Tiesa could feel the curious stares of at least ten people. She hunched her shoulders and told herself dishes were the most interesting thing in the world, and nothing could tear her attention away from them.

"Girls don't ask guys out…" she muttered.

"I asked Joseph out. He said yes."

"That's different."

"Different how, though? Tell me. Tell me now."

"Felicja can you just let me enjoy the day?"

Felicja sighed loudly. "Fine! But you can bet your perky ass I'm going to be bringing this up again before New Year – I'm not going to let true love slip through my best friends fingers!" Then she picked up a stash of dishes and walked out to redistribute them in time for desert.

Tiesa shook her head – true love?

Now there's an entertaining thought. She listens to too many radio programs.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

New York, Braginski Estate

Christmas had always been his favorite holiday. But he didn't celebrate it when everyone else did. He was the only member of his remaining family who had Christmas on the 7th of January. The others held theirs on the 25th. Every year they asked him to take part, and every year he sat in his room, lights out and curtains drawn, until it was over. Eventually they just stopped asking.

Ivan gingerly removed the sunflowers from their vase in the window. He lifted one with browning petals to his nose, its pungent scent reminding him of running through the family garden with his sweet sisters. He walked slowly across the room and lit a lamp.

His family was weak. They had lost touch with their roots a long time ago. He was the only strong one left, the only one who could take up the mantle that his grandfather had started in the old country. Ivan was the only one who remembered where he came from. That was why the family empire was crumbling; his father had spoken true when he said it was a miracle Ivan's uncle hadn't been disposed of by a more ambitious family member.

Until now.

The business had been neglected. It needed a savior – a reformer. And Ivan, a prodigy of his grandfather and own father, was the self-given heir to that seat. He had carefully accrued his power, plying with pressure and pain where needed, giving favors and gifts when deserved. He was successfully running his own kingdom within an empire. And that kingdom was outgrowing its boundaries – it was taking over. The older ones, the leaders of the empire, the bureaucracy, needed to go. They were stale and dying. He was young, the chosen one. If there was war, so be it. He could lead.

But he could not do it unless she was by his side. His sunflower. The final missing piece. He needed a queen. From the first time he'd laid eyes on her…

But Demyan…Ivan's fists tightened and then loosened. Demyan was rectifying his mistake. If this turned out to be his sunflower, Ivan would forgive him. Or at least he planned to. The last - and only - time they'd been together had been so brief, she hadn't understood. She needed to understand, he needed to explain.

He found himself once more by the window. A fresh sunflower in hand, he situated it gently in the vase. Once she was by his side, he would be unstoppable. He just needed to bide his time and be patient. He found himself absently tracing the scar she gave him, her makers mark. She'd made him this way, made him stronger. With her he was a king.

He could hardly wait to see her again.

(A/N) And here we are, almost a full year later, two years after the first chapter was posted,…and it's updated. Finally. Hallelujah. Thanks for everyone who's stuck it through. Things have been crazy this past year with school and getting ready for college (which starts in the fall by the way). So, much excitement. Thanks to my friend Schmo for encouraging me to continue this. Happy Birthday, Schmo! This chapter's for you!

If you have any questions, feel free to send me a PM.

And yes…creepy Ivan is creepy Ivan, I'm sorry.