Little Songbird: Chapter.10

 .: Chapter X :.

Charles Grey & Riliane Kingsley

“Master of Fools”

Grey thought himself to be a master of manipulation. He knew how to get his way. All he had to do was sing a few pretty words and Wynn was crumbling like a biscuit. Now he was just about to find out exactly how foolishly soft this bonehead was. Grey sat there with the best sympathetic expression he could slap on and waited for Wynn to eat up every bit of his act.

“Do you love her?” Wynn asked suddenly.

Well, he certainly found Riliane attractive and he did have some fondness for her—for what she was back then. So he wouldn't be lying if he said yes, would he? Grey mentally snickered to himself. 'Since when do I care about lying?'

“I do.”

Those two words were all that was needed to get Wynn spilling it like a fallen milk carton. In fact, Grey may have tipped him over a bit too much. He was babbling on, albeit with useful details here and there, about this sob story that Grey couldn't give two shits about. He was so bored by it that he could feel tears swelling in his eyes as a yawn threatened to break the facade.

“—I'm sorry, Grey, is this too much for you?”

“What? Oh! No, no, I'm good. Tell me about the day your family was going to have that picnic.” 'Good God, what is with this guy and apologizing?'

The topic he was most interested in floated back to center stage again. But as his boredom began to die, so did his apathy. Grey should have foreseen that this conversation wouldn't end without leaving some weight in his chest. Wynn began to elaborate on how a sweet day turned into another common tragedy. His strong form gradually began to sag like a sturdy castle caving in on itself as his words painted the image of fate ripping apart his beautiful family.

The only thing Grey ever truly knew was lust and loyalty. He's never felt a bond deep in his bones before, but he understood how pain works. Throughout the years of working the job, he's seen what it can do. Pain was as abusive as the sky. The elements could weather down great monuments into a myriad of pebbles, and Wynn was a stack of old stones ready to collapse.

“That was Heinz's doing,” Wynn concluded, shoulders quaking as he tried to pull himself together.

“How do you know?”

Wynn erupted in volumes that could shake the earth. “Because I heard one of the guys say his name! I've seen his desk littered with black market deals, I've known what malicious creep he was, what he was capable of! ” He was a wildfire. No. This outburst was merely the start of something worse. He was a bomb, and the words pouring from his mouth was the smoke right before ignition.

No one would have ever suspected the benign Wynn Kingsley to harbor such boiling rage. Grey always knew him to be a mirthful, merry little idiot who didn't have a clue. Always smiling. Always polite. Always tripping over his own foolishness. Now Grey knew different. Much of the jovial quirkiness happened to be a charade, mechanism to help Wynn keep himself together. However, Grey couldn't blame the guy. No one stays the same, no one stays sane after the destruction of their world. What was sitting before him wasn't a reserved, well-raised nobleman. Right now, Grey believed he was looking at the epitome of chaos.

“We found the bakery in flames! My father didn't die that day, Grey, but what happened to him afterward was worse. I watched him go mad. I watched him ruin himself—tearing apart the world looking for them! That's when he—”

The way Wynn suddenly fell silent spoke volumes. Grey sensed that he was about to tread on private grounds. He needed to push further.

“...Wynn? That's when he what?”

The storm raging just outside the shattered window answered back, with a roar that shook the house and a flash that briefly shrouded the room in white. It lit up Wynn's face, twisted in his anger, and made the hair on the back of Grey's neck stand on it's end.

“...Wynn?”

“He hired Damian to bring them back.”

Damn it! That blasted devil! There was something more than just the glossy veneer of a butler, Grey felt it in his gut from the very beginning.

He was about to press on, but stopped himself. Asking about Damian would be straying too far from the original topic. It'd only make him look suspicious. From the short and delayed answer Wynn had given, it appeared he was beginning to put a wall back up anyway. At least Grey got enough to pacify himself and the Queen, for now. He'll have to write a report on his findings later on, but something about this situation was different from the rest. A voice in the back corners of his mind was almost warning him to leave out certain details.

Grey took another glance-over at Wynn, who was too riled up in his madness to notice the calculating stares. The stain of Heinz Bauer had been wiped from his name, but he wasn't in the clear just yet. Who's to say he didn't have his own blemishes to hide? He probably had reasons to go poking around in the undergrounds himself. Wynn was definitely something of concern, as well as Damian.

The Earl and his mysterious butler...now where has he heard that before?

- - -

Phantomhive, Kingsley, and Grey. Three renowned Earls in one place, all equally dangerous and biting back secrets. One would assume that in a room full of weapons with these men, each with their own appetite for blood, silence would be the last thing weighing in the air. But the guns and blades remained untouched and there was no wicked hunger to sate. At least not at the moment, and for more than a minute, nothing has been heard other than the callous torment of the skies outside. Little did all three of them know that they would be under the mercy of the fourth person in the room.

“What is he doing here?” Riliane asked, disdainfully eying Grey. Her voice still quivered from the previous shock; the unpleasant chill of Ciel's grip lingered long after she fled to her brother's side.

Her fingers clawed deeper into Wynn's blazer as Grey looked at her with that haughty grin of his. She rolled her eyes. She didn't need another reason to dread this day.

“Rilly, don't be rude now.” She felt the stroke of Wynn's hand on her shoulder, but it did nothing to comfort her. In fact, it did the exact opposite. That tone in his voice, it was the one he always used when he was about to tell her something she clearly wouldn't like. It was like a subtle opening to a symphony of bad news and tantrums.

She peered up with a stare that was daring him to drive her mood off a cliff.

“I uh....Rilly, listen. I realize that if you marry, you would prefer marrying for love.”

“...yes.”

“And...love takes time.”

“Yes.”

“Which is why I'm,” his eyes quickly pointed towards Grey's direction and his voice went meek as if it would lessen the blow, “...setting the wedding date one year from today.”

“What!?”

“Well, I know it's not in your interest to marry as soon you turn 18, so—”

“I don't want to marry at all!” This was a shove into an icy lake, a bullet through her head, and knife in her back all at the same time. “Wynn, you said you would take care of things for me!”

His hands went up as if he were trying to calm a distressed horse. “I did!”

Begging, pleading, crying, arguing, everything was a meaningless effort because of Wynn's need to satisfy his own fixation on her life. Always mapping out his idealistic fantasies, expecting her to wistfully follow the route like every other frivolous damsel. “This is not taking care of it! I refuse!”

Something inside Wynn must have snapped at that moment. There was a madness in his eyes that Riliane has never before seen, and it left her powerless against the intensity of his stare.

“Be grateful that I'm giving you time.” He spoke with a finality that seemed to write her entire future in stone. “You are going to marry Grey.”

Was he commanding her? Was he actually ordering her to give her hand to a man she barely knew, and who barely knew her in return? Was he mandating that she just simply barter herself away like that? Riliane wasn't a dog and she'll be damned if she acted like one! Wynn understood absolutely nothing. He was being so bull-headed she could feel herself getting red from the sheer amount of frustration. She felt like a sealed teakettle, shaking and ready to combust from all the pressure.

They all went rigid from the sudden eruption; a shriek so short, yet so furious it stunned even the butlers, who had just now returned. Riliane exited the room in footsteps that stabbed the ground and left them all conquered in their shock. Once she disappeared into the hall she blasted her butler's name in another spout of temper, which caused them all to flinch simultaneously.

“Coming!” The demon cooed, making sure to throw his darkest look at Wynn before following hastily.

The survivors exchanged glances and released the breath they unknowingly held, as if their bodies had prepared for certain death.

“Well, that was scary.”

“Good,” Wynn gave Grey shaky smile, “it wouldn't be right if you weren't afraid of her a little bit.”

Wynn attempted to laugh off the discomfort in the air, uttering several apologies to both Grey and Ciel before anxiously dismissing himself with a nod of their heads. He took all the previous tension with him, but his absence allowed the animosity between his two guests to resurface.

“Grey.”

“Phantomhive.”

Blue clashed with silver in a deadly staring contest until Grey found it too boring to carry on. With a curt scoff he made his way to one of the chairs, lingering his glare on Ciel.

The delicate sound of porcelain shifted his attention to the butler, who had begun pouring tea into dainty white cups. He narrowed his eyes at Sebastian and noticed that he was smiling—in a way that held secrets, satisfaction, and anticipation. He always smiled like that, and it irritated Grey like an itch.

He couldn't make sense of how, why, or when this grudge against them even began. Grey had always found Ciel to be obnoxiously arrogant and overly ambitious, even before they met. The Queen's constant babbling about her apparently vicious pet chihuahua was enough for him. And when they actually did meet, he finally saw how much of slave to the throne Ciel was. He was just a blinded mutt on a leash. Then again, Grey was no better. He, too, inherited his station as a pawn as well as a hollow devotion to Her Majesty. It wasn't misplaced loyalty. Queen Victoria was an exceptional ruler. However, that was all there is to it. Grey just had no deeper or personal reason to follow her, yet he continued to do so regardless. Perhaps that was why he resented Ciel; Grey saw too much of what he disliked about himself in the brat. It was almost like looking in a mirror.

And that butler? The butler only increased the hatred. Sebastian and Ciel both seemed so distastefully smug every time he encountered them. They behaved so leery so many times that Grey was surprised the Queen never became suspicious of them.

Bottom line: they gave him the creeps.

Sebastian proceeded to serve the tea to his master. The smell of the amber liquid wafted towards Grey's direction, provoking both a memory and a warning.

With a smirk playing on his lips, he watched as the unsuspecting victim blew softly on his cup before taking a long, greedy sip. Delight hit Grey's face as Ciel's eyes went wide and he spewed the devilish concoction all over the carpet.

“Bloody hell! You can't call this tea!”

Grey went into a fit of knee-slapping laughter as Ciel gagged and coughed.

'Oh, Raeleigh Evans.' As great of a baker that man was was, he should have stuck to pies and pastries. His tea experiments never went well. Every new medley of recklessly thrown together herbs always ended up having this putrid odor that reminded Grey of medicine. The taste was no better. It was both bitter and sour all at once and it left the tongue feeling dry and shriveled. Perhaps if tea was capable of going rancid, that would be the flavor. But as bad as it was, Grey appreciated that he finally got some amusement out of it.

His smiled stayed as the younger Earl continued to scowl.

“At least she and I can relate on our obvious dislike of you,” Ciel spat.

His grin disappeared almost immediately. That brat soiled his mirth far more quickly than he thought, and it showed briefly before it faded under a poker face. Grey decided to play it off, dismissing Riliane's rather indignant reaction to a disdain of arranged marriages. It didn't work, however, and Ciel quickly caught on to the nerve he hit.

“She may fancy someone else, perhaps that's why she refused you.”

His thoughts immediately flew to Damian and how Grey planned to do away with him as soon as he and Riliane walked off the altar. He began to conceive various ways of how to do so. Should he simply fire him? Or should he arrange it so he falls victim to a crippling accident? Or should he just kill him?

The vision of Damian's bare, undeserving hands roaming Riliane's body intruded his thoughts. Grey forced that image out of his head and decided that he would definitely kill the bastard. He was so absorbed in the fantasy that he almost missed what Ciel said next.

“She did pay me a surprise visit earlier this week.”

His gaze snapped up to meet the challenging smirk stretching across that brat's face.

Grey scoffed and fired a bullet of his own. “Probably to just take notes on your failure, so she could warn her brother not to make the same mistakes.”

He raised a brow when Ciel's annoying grin didn't deflate as he intended, but instead grew into a sign that said he knew something that Grey didn't.

“Maybe, but she might have left my manor with more than just a curiosity for me.”

His deadpan expression began to give way to ire, and this time he didn't bother trying to hide it. He glowered at Ciel in a way that threatened murder if he dared to continue.

“She did ask to speak to me in private last night. Right in front of my fiancée, too.”

“You're playing a dangerous game, Phantomhive.” The words seethed out of his mouth like burning venom, but he didn't intend to sound so angry. He knew Ciel was only trying to get in his head. He's tried doing so before and usually he would fail, but this time, for some reason, it was working. Grey's blood was boiling just as badly as Wynn's.

“She's shameless, really. She even had the nerve to ask for me in private today, but got offended when I got a little courageous.”

His face fell completely. Why had the two been alone together? It didn't register in Grey's mind, until now, that he and Wynn could have interrupted a quarrel between two lovers. If that wasn't damning enough, Riliane's refusal to marry him could be because of...

Grey looked up again, but he didn't meet Ciel's eyes. Instead his gaze fell on the brat's neck, and he began to think about how satisfying it would be to plunge a knife into it.

- - -

Riliane retreated to her bedroom like a lion unsatisfied from its hunt. She rushed toward a window that overlooked the estate, which was now being assaulted by a storm. Heavy droplets beat against the glass and slid down her reflection like angry tears.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” She could tell that Damian was just as heated, but he kept his voice tame.

“Go see if Tobosa and the others are going to make it.”

“My pleasure,” he bowed and left Riliane to her own thoughts. She appreciated that about him, how he understood when and when not to pry.

But Damian's helpfulness would not help the day get any better. Her cohorts, as hopeful as she wanted to be at the moment, would be unlikely to show up thanks to the weather. Not only that, but two very unwanted guests would have to seek refuge under her roof. Who knows how long that will be? Plenty of storms have lasted for days.

Then there was her brother...

She inhaled, chest heaving in long breaths as she clawed fistfuls of her dress in her fingers.

Things were falling apart before they even began. Riliane had goals set that she wouldn't be able to reach if she fell under the restrictions of a husband. If only fate would have had it so she could inherit everything, and not just the position as the janitor that wiped the ass of England. Maybe if Riliane had been born first, that could have been.

She sighed. Even if she was the eldest, such bequest wouldn't be possible. At least not without committing a crime that's been practiced by the household for generations.

Her family had a rather twisted tradition, but it only resulted from the unjust laws of society. It gave no fairness for the mothers of this world. Women would be subject to the authority of their fathers, no matter how unreasonable or heinous, only to be dictated by their husbands. Not all cases were like this, of course, but there have been far too many times where girls were expected to be voiceless and obedient. They were tools for ascension, a prize that came with their dowry, and a factory for producing heirs. If not, then they were dolls for sex or an easy target for violent stresses. They were merchandise, slaves, toys, objects, and every word used to dehumanize someone with a heart and soul. But being a victim didn't particularly make you one. Society had a habit of demonizing a woman should she ever fall short of being a lady. She would be demeaned because it was more convenient to cover up the truer evil rather than to change it. The Kingsley women knew that. Being born female doomed you to be used, abused, blamed, and accused.

Then they realized that gender didn't have to be a curse. That they didn't have to stay weak. That they could take what was theirs. So they took the reigns of succession in their own hands and murdered the men in their way. After all, it was society's fault for making a man's death their only ticket to freedom—to power.

The first who had done this was Isadora Kingsley, whose time dated back to the mid 1600s. She had stabbed her own son and husband in the heart, and was sentenced to beheading not long after. It was her daughter, Cora, who made the crime into tradition—into a system; generation upon generation sons and brothers were disposed of, ultimately giving succession to an heiress. Most husbands were spared, but turned into puppets left with the task of veiling the corruption in normality.

Lorena, an old and loyal maid, and many of the other veteran servants had told Riliane all of this. In an attempt to give her ancestors the benefit of the doubt, she checked the family records but found nothing to banish the weight hanging over her head. All of it had been true. Every male born into the line after Cora had either gone missing or died long before they could even touch their inheritance. Some of them never even reached adulthood.

Riliane made these discoveries about a year ago, but they continued to haunt her conscience daily. Such an awful history was written in her bones. She descended from a lineage of butchery. It all might have first been a justice that blossomed from centuries of discrimination—Riliane herself could never forget the abuses she's had to endure—but the household became a matriarchy built upon homicide. It was a queendom drowning in blood. The was the Kingsleys' vile secret.

And she wanted this infernal secret to vanish into the ages. She loved Wynn more than the stars loved to hug the sky. The mere thought of killing him made her heart sink heavy like an anchor in her chest. It worsened when she began to question if her own mother had really been an only child, or if she had succumbed to a greed greater than her morale.

'That's not possible', she shook her head. If her mother had wanted power that much then she would have never let Heinz barrel out of control. She didn't even have enough ill-will to put down a man cruel enough to murder children.

However, Riliane would have done it. Heinz was a cur, a wretch, a savage! His death would have amended all his atrocities, past and future. She had no qualms about doing away with the likes of him. With good and fair reason, she would take lives if she had to. But she certainly didn't have the evil to kill her own brother.

She felt something soft bounce off the back of her head and when she looked just in time to see the stuffed cat hit the floor, she noticed Wynn sitting patiently at her bed. She didn't know how long he'd been there, but guessed it must have been a while. He was grinning sheepishly, holding up another fuzzy animal and making it dance in the air.

“You think a puppet show is going to make me stop being mad at you?” Riliane raised a brow, suppressing a smile.

“Back then, before you started liking guns better, I'd always get you some stuffed thing to cheer you up.” Wynn set the toy on his lap and ran a thumb over the dark, button eyes that stared back at him.

The cream-coloured rabbit was one of Riliane's favourites. She adored the satin bow around its neck because it was a colour that Wynn would often wear himself.

'Wine-red did always suit you best,' she thought, 'Warm and charming, just like you'

Her grudge faded with every step she took towards him until it waned into something more tender.

“I don't remember what I did when I gave you this one.”

“You had a meeting with clients and forgot about taking me to the lake.” She nestled beside him.

“Who knew your forgiveness could be bought so easily,” he laughed a little and nuzzled the tip of the rabbit's nose to hers. “Or that you would even keep them all.” He gestured toward the head of the bed, where several stuffed animals of various species and colours sat daintily arranged.

Riliane recalled the memory as easily as she could blink. She wasn't that upset when Wynn had ditched their plans, nor was she bothered by the other times before or after. She understood that he had responsibilities and had forgiven him long before he placed a toy in her hands. It was more like Wynn couldn't forgive himself unless he did something to make it up to her.

She let her head fall gently on his shoulder. “It was funny how you always tried to be there for me, and when you couldn't you looked so...distraught.” She huffed out something between a sigh and a giggle and took the rabbit by one of its legs. “You thought all these little things made me happy, but it was just you...the fact that you couldn't stand me being upset with you.”

Wynn draped an arm around her shoulders and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I hated any possibility of you being unhappy, even if it's just for a moment.”

She nodded.

“But I know that sometimes I'll have to do things that you don't like. Just know that it's for your sake.”

Riliane pulled away and sighed.

“Why don't you want to marry Grey? Do you hate him?”

She simply uttered a short “no” in hopes that he would catch on and end the conversation there, but it was fruitless.

“Then why?”

It was because marriage wasn't an option for her, even she wanted it. It would only bring back chaos.

Riliane truly did not hate Grey. In fact, she used to admire him until she grew older and began to understand all the lewd hints laced into his flirtations. She would have let all that go, however, if he hadn't continued to violate the one rule she set so clearly.

“He has no regard for personal space.”

When he stayed silent, Riliane assumed he understood. She glanced at him and found that he seemed to be pondering something. She mentally prepared herself, locking her temper in a cage, expecting a long speech that would probably drive her up the wall.

“I know Grey's a bit forward, but he's not as bad as you think.”

From that moment on he would just be spouting excuses, but she kept her ears open.

“I've known him for years,” Wynn continued. “Even though we're not on close terms, we're quite familiar.” He scratched the back of his head and laughed with a strange break in his voice. “Sure, he's had a few flings here and there but what person hasn't?”

Riliane narrowed her eyes. His voice was softer. His words, less filtered. His hands kept moving from his head, to his neck, and constantly fidgeted with his collar or sleeves. They tended to be a restless sight when he was flustered.

“That doesn't make him bad. He's blunt and straightforward most of the time, but that's sorta his charm. Grey can be courteous, but he doesn't put on airs for people because there's no need to. He's honest and he's himself, because he has no problem being who he is. I think he's the type of person you'd enjoy being around. He's not too stuck up and always enjoying life the way he wants. You'll never catch him settling for monotony. You expect him to be unpredictable, and that's the fun thing about him. There's always a surprise.”

That was definitely no excuse he was trying to sell. Wynn believed every word that danced clumsily off the tip of his tongue. The way he bowed his head to keep his face from being seen, probably to hide the hints of redness Riliane was able to catch. The way he swayed sightly. The small, nervous sighs in between his commendations. He just didn't know what to do with himself.

“Wynn,” Riliane spoke slowly, carefully, “...do you...like Grey?”

His hands shot up in defense. “Wh-WHAT? What would make you say that?”

“That's so cute~!” She cooed impishly. “Big brother has a crush~!”

Wynn frowned, took the stuffed rabbit, and smothered it into Riliane's face until she fell back onto the silken sheets, asking for mercy in between laughs. He looked away and crossed his arms, like he was promising the cold shoulder unless she stopped.

She did eventually, when the hilarity of the moment died. Something curious occurred to her.

“If you like him, then why are you trying to pin him on me?”

“I guess...I just fancied the idea of you and Grey being together. The two people I love most, happily married.” His delicate expression glazed over with something somber. “He'll never look at me in the same light I see him, anyway.”

“You'll never know for sure if you don't try.”

Wynn let out a mock-laugh and looked at her, staring for long moments. It was as if he'd found something and was holding onto it for as long as he could.

“I've missed that hopefulness in you, Rilly.” He smoothed her hair away from her face, his hand coming to rest at her cheek. “But I'm afraid people aren't as open to heresy as you might think. Besides, I won't be here long. I'd rather make sure you're taken care of.”

Riliane shook her head. “Wynn...”

'You're a fool,' she wanted to tell him. She wanted to scream it in his face with tears bleeding from her eyes that he was an idiot for selling his soul. Wynn had given up the rest of his life for her, for something as petty as vengeance.

“I know you're clever. I know you can get yourself out of things, but there will be relentless attempts on your life.”

There will always be a target on her back regardless. She wasn't going to abandon her plans, and he wasn't going to ask her to. So what would seeking revenge do? What difference would clearing a path make? Riliane was going to take a road flooded with corpses, and it would only get worse from there. Wynn had thrown away everything: his own happiness, his prosperity, and love.

It wasn't like Damian could have the contract annulled. He was indentured to another demon. A demon capable of massacring a nation with one hand alone, who may even be the devil himself. The odds were beyond their power. Wynn was doomed.

So what right did Riliane have to be an ungrateful witch? If she was going to put Wynn's efforts in vain, the least she could do is give him some solace before he dies.

“Does marrying me off to Grey really give you that much peace?”

He nodded. “I trust his intelligence just as much as I trust your brilliance. You two will be untouchable.”

She gave him a half-hearted grin.

“So, will I be able to walk my baby sister down the isle?”

It wasn't like marrying Grey presented no opportunity, either. If anything, he was the best choice. His ties to the queen would move her plans along much faster.

“...yes,” she said quietly, “I will marry Charles Grey.”