Utena, Revolutionary Girl Fan Fiction ❯ War of the Roses ❯ Milady ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter II: Milady

De la Fère's quarters were in a little used segment of the East Wing. Of twenty apartments on his hall, only one was occupied. At present, the contents of his bedroom consisted of a hard narrow bed, a teak nightstand, an ill-lit desk, and an empty bookshelf. Adjoining this chamber was a small closet and even smaller bathroom, albeit one with all the necessities. A heavy oak door separated this inner sanctum, as it were, from the main room. This was mostly filled with a large number of boxes and suitcases. A medium-sized refrigerator and a small stove took up one corner of this room. The entire apartment, except the bathroom and a few square yards surrounding the kitchen area, was carpeted in thick cerulean shag. Dark cherry paneling covered the walls.

The Frenchman returned rather late to this apartment as he had visited Vampa's office after leaving Juri to continue their discussion about late Medieval Italy. After an hour of dialogue that wandered over the entire map of Europe, the old professor had gently hinted that he was getting a little hungry. De la Fère excused himself and left the old man to dress for dinner. Upon entering his own apartment, he checked the refrigerator to find it empty but running. He wheeled a moderately large grey box to the kitchen corner and stocked the refrigerator with its contents: bottles of juice and soda, vegetables, a little meat and fish, and a whole duck that took up most of the freezer compartment. He pushed the box into the hall for the house staff to collect it in the morning. His parents had paid for the school to provide him groceries on a weekly basis, relying on a detailed profile of his tastes [1]

Two slightly smaller boxes contained a set of low shelves and cans of soup, mushrooms, and other foods. A third box held flour, salt, sugar, and an assortment of condiments. Pots, pans, ladles, and boxed silverware rattled as he stowed them in the oven. A straw-filled crate yielded an assortment of wines to match any meal-half a dozen bottles in all. He stowed these in a folding metal rack beside the refrigerator.

De la Fère towed the suitcases into the bedroom along with several boxes. He hanged several black uniforms in the closet, including one completely without ornament and another with epaulettes and much more braid. A small bag of medals clanked in its pocket. A number of more casual outfits remained stowed in a suitcase that he decided to use as a sort of dresser. Ovid, Virgil, Horace, Suetonius, Homer, Dumas, and dozens of other authors took their places in ordered ranks on the bookshelf [2]. Lamps for the desk and nightstand filled another box, as did his fencing outfit: uniform, foil, epee, and saber.

Finally, de la Fère set up a frail-seeming iron stand beside his bed. He gingerly opened a slender four-foot cardboard tube and drew out a gleaming rapier to reverently set it on the stand. The numerals XV shone in gilt letters an inch from the hilt in commemoration of the birthday on which he had received it. The green-enameled guard was wrought in the form of a half-dozen willow leaves curving from the base of the blade to the pommel. He flattened the cardboard boxes and threw them into the hall for the cleaning staff.

After setting his bedroom in order, de la Fère returned to the living room. Removing most of the boxes had revealed a round table surrounded by four matching chairs. A low sofa occupied the wall beside the bedroom door. He unpacked a modest stereo system and set a box of CDs beside it. At this point, his stomach loudly reminded him of the late hour.

In response to this rude reminder, de la Fère dug about a quarter pound of liver and a pair of red bell peppers out of the refrigerator. When sautéed, they made a passable meal with the addition of some bread, fava beans, and a glass of Chianti [3]. He set a little tongue to simmer overnight in the pressure cooker before retiring to begin his homework. A few slices of that, combined with a little cheese, watercress, and liver, made an excellent sandwich for the next day's lunch.

De la Fère sought out a tree to eat under the next day; he found a patriarch oak with a four-foot wide trunk and a leafy crown that seemed to sift the clouds. As he took the sandwich from his bag, a white-and-teal missile struck him in the ribs with a high-pitched squeal. The Frenchman maintained his grip on sandwich and life with a superhuman effort as the apparition squeezed his ribs until they threatened to snap.

'Wakaba! Let him go! You can't talk to him if he's dead,' a girl's voice commanded as de la Fère's vision faded. His assailant instantly released him and he dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. As the spots faded from his eyes, he stood slowly and asked gruffly, 'Who are you and what are you doing here?'

The brown-haired, brown-eyed girl kneeling in from of him bowed and said, 'I wanted to congratulate you on winning your duel with Saionji yesterday. I made this for you.' She held out a black lacquered lunch box with a smile. Utena, who'd just saved de la Fère's life, sighed deeply at this fresh attempt on it [4].

The black-garbed young man coughed uneasily. 'Thank you…but I already have a lunch.' He brandished sandwich and thermos. Wakaba sniffed curiously at the sandwich.

'What is it?'

'Liver and tongue with cheese and a little watercress. And this is gazpacho soup.'

'Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!' Wakaba dashed behind Utena at the mention of liver. The springy lock of hair on her forehead could be seen quivering as it stuck out past the taller girl's jacket.

De la Fère appeared to take no notice of the girl's reaction to his choice of cuisine. He bowed deeply to Wakaba and said, 'Though you seem to know me through Mademoiselle Tenjou, I should still introduce myself: I am Edouard de la Fère. Thank you for the congratulations. However, they are unnecessary; I was only acting as honour required of me. I am curious, though, why would you rejoice at his defeat?'

The eternally cheerful brunette emerged from behind Utena and bowed in her turn. 'I'm Shinohara Wakaba; pleased to meet you. I…' She broke off and flushed when she tried to talk about Saionji.

Utena approached the Frenchman and whispered, 'He posted a love letter from her to a bulletin board for the whole school to read a few months ago. I challenged him over it; that's why I'm…engaged to Anthy now.' De la Fère's eyes flashed and his jaw set grimly when he heard this.

'Monsieur le Comte, you should have warned me that you would be attending the Academy this semester! I would have shown you around and introduced you to some friends of mine,' admonished a woman's voice in an accent almost identical to de la Fère's. It was a deeper voice than Utena's, though not so deep as to be mistaken for a man's. The young man blanched upon hearing her and breathed a single word so softly that he himself barely heard it: 'Merde![5]'

The newcomer was a blonde who wore her hair in a single long braid wrapped around her temples [6]. Imperious green eyes glared around a slim, straight nose; her full crimson lips set in a firm line as she approached the three. Gold aiguillettes, buttons, and braid flashed on her blue uniform, which strongly resembled her compatriot's, though hers was trimmed in silver. Two rapier-embossed pips shone on her collar.

De la Fère's face transformed into an utterly immobile, neutral mask. He bowed to take the woman's hand and raise it to his lips. 'Milady. It's been too long since I've had the honour to be in your presence.' Turning to Utena and Wakaba, he said, 'Mademoiselle Tenjou, Mademoiselle Shinohara, this is Anne de Beuil, an old friend of mine [7].'

Anne bowed to the two girls, the sun glinting off her cat's-eye signet ring. Her sigil was a high-crested Roman helm. 'I'm honoured to meet you. If you will excuse us, we have not met in two years and we have much to discuss.' Once the two younger girls were out of earshot, Anne turned to her friend and declared coldly, 'We need to talk.'

De la Fère sighed and bowed his head. 'Yes, we do. But not now. The matters that lie between us are too grave to treat quickly or publicly. If you would do me the honour of dining with me, I have an excellent duck in my freezer.' He drew a small card from his pocket and quickly inscribed his hall and room number on it.

'Six o'clock tonight, then,' Anne said before she bowed and left. De la Fère let out his breath explosively and sat down heavily when she turned a corner and vanished from view. He ate his sandwich mechanically without tasting it and immediately sought the privacy of his rooms.

**************

A firm knock at the appointed hour started the Frenchman as he was setting the table. The promised duck was accompanied by mashed potatoes and gravy, a basket of steaming rolls, and a mix of steamed vegetables. A bottle of wine and two glasses stood on the table.

'Welcome to my quarters, such as they are. Enter freely and of your own will [8],' de la Fère declared extravagantly and bowed his visitor in. Anne laughed more loudly than the moldy jest deserved and replied to de la Fère's inquiring eyebrows merely by pointing at him. He flushed and instantly tore off the scarlet apron he had been wearing over black T-shirt and slacks.

'Good sign of who will be keeping house when we're married,' noted Anne with a smile.

Her companion's face took on a more somber aspect, however, and he replied, 'That's one of the things we have to talk about.'

'Yes, it is,' the blonde replied stiffly. 'But not until we've eaten. I've had to live on my own cooking or the school's for the past two years.'

The two drank to each other's health before attacking the repast with the appetite of those who dread what is to come after the meal. About half way through the duck, Anne remarked, 'I see that you've made quite an impression on the middle school girls, Edouard. You've become a regular playboy, haven't you?'

'That's not it at all, Anne. They just wanted to congratulate me on defeating Saionji Kyouichi yesterday. He did something a few months ago to the brunette that forced Utena, the pink-haired one, challenge him to a duel.'

'I heard about that…something about a love letter on the school bulletin board. So you thought you could impress her by dueling the one who scorned her? An adroit move for you.' De la Fère made no reply, but instead rose to fetch a cake from the refrigerator. When he returned, Anne continued, 'With charm like that, no wonder you threw me over.'

The cake hit the table hard enough to bounce twice as the man took his seat. He rubbed his palm over his face before quietly saying, 'I never "threw you over," Anne. I just didn't want to tie you down when you left France If you'd met someone who made you happier than I could…who was I to stand in the way of that?'

'The one I love, that's who!' Edouard jumped at the vehemence in her voice as she slammed her empty glass on the table. 'We'd been engaged for six years, Edouard! Six years! And you threw it all away so you wouldn't "tie me down." Dammit, the only reason I even considered leaving was because I knew I'd be coming back to you. After that day…' She drew a deep shuddering breath to collect herself. 'After that…it was all I could do to hold myself together. I cried myself to sleep for two solid months.'

'I…I'm sorry. If I'd known…' Edouard reached for her hand, but she jerked away convulsively.

'That does not change the fact you abandoned me!' The blonde snatched up the bottle and instantly downed the rest of it. Edouard fetched a second bottle from the rack to fill his own glass. He pulled his seat beside his friend, ignoring her visible recoil from his presence.

'I suppose you could call it that.' He drained the glass at a single draught and continued, 'I was only fourteen at the time. The idea of spending the rest of my life with someone…it scared me, Anne.' Her face darkened and she half-rose before he laid a hand on her arm and hastily added, 'Don't get me wrong; you're a wonderful person: attractive, intelligent, funny, everything a man could want. But I just don't know if we're right for each other.'

'And you'd leave me all alone for that? When my mother died, my father threw himself completely into fencing. Our parents had just arranged the match between us…. My friends were sympathetic, but I was never all that close to them….and some of them kind of started drifting away after Mom died. You were the only one I had all those years. And then you abandoned me when my father decided to ship me halfway around the world!'

She threw herself on the Edouard in a storm of tears. When they subsided, he murmured, 'We're together again now. If you're willing to take me back…I'm yours.' Anne gave no answer in words but instead gave him a brief, passionate kiss on the lips.

After they parted, she said calmly, 'I must be a mess. Do you mind if I use your bathroom to clean up?'

Notes: If I sound like an arrogant prick in these notes, it's probably because I am one.

1) At several points in the series, we see students cooking for themselves. I think it is not unreasonable for this type of arrangement to be provided for students at an expensive boarding school.

2) Ovid was a Roman poet who wrote the Metamorphoses, the Art of Love, and a number of other poems. Virgil is most famous for his Aeneid, but he did write other works. Horace was another poet…I haven't read anything by him yet. Suetonius is most famous for his Lives of the Caesars, a series of biographies of the Roman emperors through Domitian…it reads like a giant tabloid more than anything else. I wouldn't recommend it as your primary source of information on the emperors, but it's a good read. Homer wrote the Iliad and Odyssey, of course; and Dumas wrote The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo, among a heap of plays and other novels.

3) If you don't get this reference, I will spare you the details. If you do, I assure you it's beef liver.

4) I'm not familiar enough with the series to really comment on Wakaba's cooking, but I have a feeling that she's not much better than Ranma ½'s Akana Tendo in the kitchen.

5) French word more or less equivalent to the English 'shit.' The French Comte is generally translated 'Count.'

6) Think Kushana's first hairstyle from 'Nausicaa of the Valley of Wind'

7) There is a fatality in names. As Babylon 5 fans may have heard, the Minbari say that souls often gather to relive the great loves and to repair failed ones. I cannot say more than this without some serious spoilers for the novel I borrowed her name from. Incidentally, Anne is about a year older than Edouard…and her name is the full name of the character she's partly based on.

8) More specifically, the open-faced kind with long cheek guards that you see in movies all the time.

9) I'm sure you all recognize Dracula's greeting to Jonathan Harker when he first arrives at Castle Dracula.

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Pleas countinue (sic)-I am flattered, but I am only a mortal, not a god. And this fic is just a few pages of text stored on a server somewhere. It is not divine either.