Chapter Text
It started off as a favour. Something two half siblings could bond over, discuss over the dinner table and something for the eldest to do outside of his stuffy business dealings. It wasn’t framed as anything more than a passing interest they could engage in and get their parents off their backs on marriage and proposals, something that was becoming unavoidable given the state of their affairs.
Raia had proposed the idea with the understanding that her mother could be placated with this menial interaction and ease off on the pressure to find a husband past her ‘prime’.
It did not.
She had come into this with the understanding that the man who sent the letters with the sprig of lavender and the phoenix emblem was a bore, just as moronic and dull as her other suitors.
She was wrong on that front too.
“He likes dogs.” Yuno woke his sister up one early morning to say. She opened bleary eyes, the room snuffed into darkness as the sun only peaked barely above the houses in the far distance. Her brother stared at her unblinkingly.
“Huh?” She murmured, pushing at his head and snuggling closer into her pillow.
“The man you’re writing to, he likes dogs.” Yuno answered shortly, rifling around to show her what she has to assume is the letter in question. “Do you think he’d like Bimbus?”
“Why does that matter?” Raia yawned wide, peeking out her blinds to the city below. “Yuno the sun hasn’t even come up yet, this better be important.”
“Important things are relative, It’s all about perspective.” He replied sunnily, slipping the letter back in his pocket. “I figured you’d want updates is all…”
She threw a pillow at his head, a frontward attack that he expertly dodged. “Not this early!”
“His letters come early, I was just…excited, all he ever writes in response to us are essay-long rants about his colleagues and work associates, this was the first substantial comment he’s made about anything positive! It’s a step forward!”
“Bleh,” Raia, still blurry eyed, blanches. “Your standards have seriously dropped, I don’t want to marry a man so negative.”
“I suppose it’s all about…perspective.” Yuno rubbed the back of his head, realising how bizarre the situation must have been for her. “You still got lessons today?”
“Oh, you forgot?” Raia sighed but reluctantly sat up. “We both have lessons. Very moronic lessons.”
Yuno’s mood instantly worsened. “Gloryon is supposed to–”
“Yeah, he’ll be there too in the background overlooking us like we’re children, isn’t that lovely dear brother?”
“Why am I going? Gloryon has more experience than me and you’re the one who’s—“ He stopped abruptly.
“I’m the one who’s getting sold off huh?” Raia breathed out deeply, the sun finally cracked over the buildings of their street and they were bathed in sunlight. “Was that what you were gonna say?”
He doesn’t look her in the eyes. “I wonder if Bimbus would like him? He likes strangers usually but you never know—“
“Yuno.” Her stare was hard enough for him to look back at her, ashamed. “— Just do this for me, please, come on I don’t ask for a lot.”
Yuno pointed at the letter, she rolled her eyes. “Other than writing all of my—it’s not about that, I just…you know Gloryon, Yuno. He doesn’t get it, he'll pick the nicest, most normal guy and Fiona won’t say anything in the moment but she’ll be so disappointed the second I turn my back!”
“Fiona wouldn’t be disappointed, why would she? For what reason? Finding your—your one true match is a good thing isn’t it?” Yuno reasoned logically but didn’t seem to understand her issue.
“She never needed a reason before.” Raia muttered bitterly.
Yuno frowned but, rather tellingly, did not correct her.
Raia turned to her brother, determinedly. “Someone needs to take care of Dad and Fiona, they gave us so much already and we can’t—“
“Can’t let them down.” Yuno finished gravely. “Ray didn’t let them down. She followed her dream.”
“I don’t know, Yuno.” Raia looked out her window as the early risers went about their business. Clergymen, chimney sweepers, workers of every kind going about their day as they would normally. “She was your sister.”
Something hardened in his gaze, something resolute. “We need money.”
She nodded. “We need money.”
“Well…” pushing off his knees as he stood his full height, he smiled. “Then let’s get the money!”
“Yeah!” She clapped, bemused, and then pelted him with a pillow. “Now leave please, I don’t want to have to see your face more than I already have to.”
“What—what’s that supposed to mean?!”
“It means, get out!” She shrieked—not loudly— but also not quiet enough to not disturb her ladies in waiting. “If I get in trouble because of you I’ll…I’ll…do something.”
He smiled. “I’m sure you will…and the ah—letter?”
She raised a brow but greeted her ladies in waiting as they appeared. “Do whatever you have been doing, our parents are so happy by the gifts he gives us they don’t even seem to realise they tailor more to your interests then mine.”
“He has given… you many gifts lately, huh?” Yuno said to himself, an odd expression coming over his face. “Must be pretty well off, you think?”
“Maybe,” She conceded, thinking nothing of it. “if mama got him on the post list he’s probably wealthy..”
“Right.” He smiled tightly. “Right, right.”
Raia blinked, now truly looking at her brother. “Do you like him, Yuno?”
“I–” He sputtered, his violent coughing even making the maids flinch. “What do you– In–in the sense that–What do you—mean by–”
She laughed at his peculiar response. “For me, silly! Do you think he’ll make me a good husband or what?”
“I—” there were shouting downstairs as the household began stirring, his name echoed through the hall from his fathers office, he groaned. “We’ll talk after?”
Raia shook her head and rushed to mess up his hair. “Sure, weirdo.”
With the affirmative, he was out of the room in seconds and Raia knew if she stuck her head out the door she would hear his father chastising Yuno for how late he was.
As Raia sat in her tub, swirling the bubbles in the water, her thoughts drifted to Yuno as most ruminations tend to go. She loved her brother dearly but he often had the self sacrificing skills of a martyr and the hero complex the size of a barn. If he were uncomfortable with something there would be a bat in hell chance of him admitting it.
She hasn’t known Yuno— and in extension Ray— all that long but what she had started to learn along the way was that these twins they didn’t…operate like most people she knew growing up. Like her, Yuno and Ray were adopted into the family. Fiona and Carlos found out early in the marriage that she couldn’t get pregnant and adopted Gloryon when he was a baby. Raia came in shortly after and Yuno and Ray only a few years ago from today.
Raia grew up marginally better than the average taxpayer as Carlos had a decent position in government, nothing high paying but he went by better than most.
From what she knew about Yunos background it wasn’t a pleasant household he grew up in nor was it a rich one. She caught on pretty quick that there were some deep seated survival instincts that would kick in every once and a while whenever he felt threatened or scared. He also had this deep sense of devotion to his family that honestly floored her at times.
Like when the family woke up to the news that Ray Mond had packed up in the night and ran away from her wedding Yuno was the only one who knew what happened and refused to divulge anything even when their parents had started demanding answers. He loved in a way that was all encompassing and yet as silent as a mouse.
“Lady Raia, you have received another letter, should I take it to your brother?” One of her maids piped up rather shyly, on a tray another letter from the suitor that Yuno so clearly wished her to meet.
“No, it’s alright.” Raia pursed her lips and plucked it from the tray. “I’ll take it this time, that’ll be all, Thankyou.”
The maid bowed and left the room leaving her alone with the letter.
Taking no time at all, she opened it.
“Lang Buddha…” Raia blinked down at the letter in her lap, disbelieving. “...Is looking for a what !?”
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Yuno didn’t intend to take to one of the suitors as quickly as he did. It was a favour, a chore, that his sister begged and pleaded with him to take over, nothing substantial.
‘You know our parents,’ She had said, on the edge of his study table, tears trailing down her face. ‘They won’t stop pushing this I–I need your help.’
And it was easy work where all he had to do was send the odd letter or two to one of his sisters' many suitors that their parents had lined up for her. The results varied given that a lengthy number of them were issued to people he had never interacted with or met in all his years living in the city and attending the minimal social functions he had. But you couldn’t say he wasn’t trying his best, their parents had sat his sister down one evening to talk about the sheer number of suitors that had pulled out already and Raia had snuck him some biscuits for the good work done.
He didn’t get much out of these correspondences, not much to get from ‘Gentleman’ who couldn’t be bothered asking his sister basic courting questions in their letters. Not in any of the many confessionary letter they had received had there been a single diversion from the same copy cutter script they used and reused for a plethora of other potential matches.
Well, all but one.
‘There’s little sense in preferring chicken over beef. What is a chickens behind, their tenderloins, their breasts to the whole of a cow? If your livestock cannot produce more than one substance what is the point of owning it at all? In this regard, I have recently procured my third tier chicken coop that will make my poultry production all but triple by next quarterly. Lang Buddha was the name, I haven’t the foggiest if I mentioned that already. So, now you know.’
Was the opening line he received one sunny day as soon as he sat down for breakfast.
Brought on a tray next to his eggs and toast was the most peculiar letter he and Raia had ever seen. It was filled to the brim with specific one–sided references and sardonic pointed social commentary that hinged on mean spiritedness barely considered good as a business correspondence let alone something to give someone you are courting.
His little sister had found the sender absolutely full of themselves, smarmy and self aggrandizing. Yuno found all those same qualities and somehow still decided to reply, part out of pity and part curiosity of what horrendous answer he would receive for it.
Just as expected the next series of letters in reference to his were just as rude and to the point as the first and long before he knew it, Yuno began sending letters back and forth for months, some in the space of extreme time gaps due to the mysterious suitors schedule. Whoever he has been writing though has been extremely busy most days in a week; a definite concern if he felt the suitor sufficient enough to marry his sister but still life could be worse and suitors could be duller.
‘Do you wonder about how light refracts off mirrors and how that turns into light? I wonder sometimes, when I’m heavily intoxicated and well on the opposite scale of respectable, if I disappeared would light continue to refract off me and hit other refractions of lights and other refractions and others until we’re just a giant dancing line of light beams dancing in a room?’
‘Did you write this intoxicated?’ Had been Yuno’s reply. Which earned him a couple dozen letters outlining how little the man appreciated the jest but also how smart he found the line regardless.
There wouldn’t be a day that went past that Yuno didn’t receive something on his sister's behalf, at first it was only returning letters from not only Mr Lang but the lineup of stuffy and egocentric suitors he was specifically brought in to deal with. And then it was…peculiar and exciting and–and the most fun he’s had in years.
Perhaps ever.
‘I suppose in a sense I understand your plight,’ Yuno went on to clarify when the last ranting letter was sent, giggling reading and re–reading everything he was sent. ‘ I believe what you’re getting at is the need to be seen, right? The want to be perceived and connected with without the complications of life getting in the way. Simplicity is…easier, more manageable. I have grown with the understanding that I was…different from my peers, not quite as content with the world or maybe not quite content in myself. I don’t know much of the difference anymore.’
That one was sent on a bad day and just so his mind couldn’t twist and turn it into something ugly, he added. ‘I don’t mean to be so dire, I’m usually quite the happy person. If you knew me you’d know that I don’t usually think about stuff like that.’
The response had been quick and what was written absolutely floored him. Not a very long letter, hardly a page but simple words that he kept close to his hearts as soon as he had read them.
‘Although I do not know you on any intimidate or interpersonal level but if I am to be truthful—as I have always been— I would say that you seem like a person worth knowing and all those who get the pleasure of your company and conversation don’t realise what treasure they carry.
Jealousy, I’m told, was never a good colour on me but it seems that I blush a great deal of unflattering colours whenever you are involved. I wish I could show you this. I wish I could walk with you and see you in all your exuberance that you say you have, I wish I could see your family and in every way I wish you could see mine.
I do not know you but I rage and despair of those that are given that privilege, I am a dog with a bone and you are more than welcome to walk me’
Haphazardly there is a scribble at the bottom of the page as if it were added last second. ‘ I intend this in a– metaphorical sense, educational. I am not a dog.’
With such a beautiful letter Yuno already had his response ready.
‘Woof, woof.’ he scrawled on a paper, making a note to give it to the postman next time he saw him.
“Get ready you two!” Fiona loudly declared upon walking into the dining room, abruptly pulling Yuno out of his daydreaming and disrupting his and Raia’s shared moment of silence. “Your brother will be here soon.”
“Why? Has he returned already? I know they say the honeymoon phase doesn’t last long but what a record that’s got to be.” Raia replied sarcastically, moodily poking at her food.
“I don’t want to hear any lip from you, Raia, we don’t have time.” Fiona narrowed her eyes. “And I especially don’t want you bringing up your brother's honeymoon when he arrives, he cut it short for you you know?”
“No I didn’t know!” She snapped back, making Fiona sigh. “Thankyou for the reminder!”
“Raia I don’t want a fight—”
“Why do you assume I am looking for a fight whenever I talk to you? I’m just trying to make sense of the things you ask of me the many, many–”
“Here we go again, do you want us to end up on the street? I can’t help what happened and we can’t just pretend that our social position means nothing–”
“Fighting again? Blazes you two can’t last a day huh?”
“Language!” Fiona hit her husband on the side of his head, lightly, with the morning paper. “Not in front of the children you bloody–”
“Interesting how this blockage of the english language doesn’t apply to yourself why is that my dear wife–”
Fiona laughed. “Are you implying that I believe me above my own family? My dear children?”
“As someone who’s beauty is so renowned it’s hard not to hold this opinion, I admit, but you simply must give our children a shot. They are very expensive to upkeep!”
“You're telling me it’s a wonder what Yuno is doing in that room of his, I bet they are master plans and schematics for bank robbery. He is constantly locked away in his own mind.” Raia said, raising a brow at her brother which Yuno pointedly ignored.
Yuno chimed in next. “Yes well I’ve heard there’s several very interested parties in the country club who can’t wait to dance with you tonight sister, isn't that fun?”
“What!?” Their parents gasp for very different reasons.
“Already? Why she’s barely debuted! Do we have time to change the dress!?” Carlos worried, overlooking the list of attendants.
“Yuno Sykk what are these names you speak of!?” Fiona rises like an intimidating cloud over his form as he spoons chunks of apple into his mouth. “Are they on the bachelors list for your sister? Are they new? What are their positions?!”
“Yuno!” His sister screams chasing him around the table as Carlo’s cries into his breakfast of his little girl growing up too fast and Fiona making a list of future son–in–laws.
And this is the sight that greets Gloryon upon returning from his resplendent honeymoon to help his sister. Secretly he wonders if it wasn’t too late to jump back into the carriage and get himself out while he still can.
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Lang Buddha was tired.
Returning to the Ton meant a whole new tidal wave of headaches and somehow it wasn’t even the dreaded London branch paperwork that contributed to it. Having spent his entire adult life attempting to leave this wretched place it hurt his soul to see all his attempts be for nought.
His mother had passed, as mothers tend to do when they become a certain age but somehow the burn of that loss had yet to grip him. Lang had never been a crying man or a man with many emotions out of all encompassing rage and mild benevolence(it was a swell life to only need access to two moods made life easier, less complicated) But when the news broke it was not the tragic passing that got to him but the way that this was going to change his life forever.
Balls were a waste of time and spender where the wealthy displayed their pedigree through opulent useless statues and themed nights that were never as good as the ones before. He had hated them as a child—growing up on the outskirts, always the outskirts of wealth, forced to rub elbows and smile at insults— and had avoided the whole business his entire adult life, right up until now.
He wonders if perhaps his mother had a point when she said he was self centred, because somehow in the news of his mothers passing his first gut reaction was ‘good god, I will be forced to find a wife’.
What that says about him, he couldn’t know. Self awareness is reserved for those with time enough to spare to stop and think about their own actions, Lang Buddha was a man of action, a businessman of good repute and that meant that self reflection was reserved for quiet nights piss drunk at a pub or gentlemans club bemoaning his many selfish, selfish decisions.
When he took a step out of his carriage there was a tidal wave of fluttering feathery fans and holding them askew was a gaggle of giggling debutantes, each elbowing each other out of the way to get to him. The urge to turn back around and leave grew every second.
“-Lang!” Someone waved a hand in front of his face. “You can’t be spacing out on me now, mate. All your…high society friends I don’t know how to talk to ‘em.”
Tony Corleone nervously fiddled with his cravat, a cloth he was given just seconds before leaving his carriage and stumbled his way by his side.
“Yeah, yeah…” Lang took another mouthful of whiskey from his flask before pocketing it. “Wipe that shit off your shirt and stand up tall, that'll help for most of these circus clowns.”
“Don’t look too excited there…” Tony snickered, eyes drawn to the many high society ladies and their lavish gowns. “Damn, I thought the tail here would look different all tarted up but this is just–Ow!”
“Keep it clean, or your ass will be chucked out of here faster than you could scream ‘son of a bitch.’” Lang muttered under his breath, smiling falsely to the passing debutants descending the staircase.
As Tony is unceremoniously hit in the face with one of the feathery fans he glared at his friend. “Hypocrite.”
“Stay focused please, this shouldn’t take long.”
Tony scoffed, scowling at one of the passing butlers as they looked at them judgmentally before taking the reins of their carriage.“And if it does?”
“Then you are welcome to cause a distraction if the situation warrants.” Lang said, nodding to the odd man or woman who recognised his face despite the many years he’s spent away from this place. “I don’t want to hear you say a word when we meet up with the girl, you’ll be seeing alot of her now. Wifes like to stick around or so I’m told.”
“You’re so…” Tony shakes his head and takes him by the shoulder to the main door. “What are you talking about, wife, I thought this was formality?”
“It’s in the will.”
“Bastards ate all the strawberry macaroons.” Tony blinked, completely bewildered. “Wait—what?”
“It’s. In. The. Will.” There was pure fury burning just under the surface of his eyes and Tony knew it, breaking out into loud ungentlemanly laughter. “We want to move to that two story safe house, we’ll just have to do what we must.”
“You are so,” He is interrupted by his own belly laugh even as he flees Lang’s punches going towards the food table. “Absolutely fucked.”
“What the hell did I say about Language you—Madam Stewart!” Lang elbowed past Tony bowing to the silver–haired matron who looked at him with great interest. “Just the woman I wanted to meet tonight!”
“Lang Buddha.” Fiona inclined her head but did not hide her outward suspicion. “The man who my daughter has had consistent correspondence with for the past month.”
He grinned in what he hoped to be a charming way. “The one and only.”
“I trust you will be found on the other side of my daughter's arm tonight if these letters of yours are to be believed?” She raised a brow.
His smile smoothed into a line. “You read my letters?”
“I would have every right to it as she is my daughter and you are a strange man who has claims of fortunes of kinds I do not recognise.” She sighed, though, and added reluctantly. “I don’t, not yours. She keeps those ones very close to her chest.”
Although he would neve admit it, he was warmed to know she held their interactions as closely as he did. “I see.”
Her eyes hardened. “Lord Buddha, you have all but proposed to my daughter with these ridiculously frequent letters and I may be going a bit out of line here but I need it known that if you hurt her heart in any way tonight I will—”
“There will be a proposal, do not worry.” Lang stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Life’s all about timing, mama told me that.”
“I heard your mother passed.” Fiona said after a while. “She was a wonderful woman.”
He shook his head and looked down, studying something on the floor. “She was.”
“With a vast fortune.” She continued, unperturbed. “That she will hand down to her only son who she so wished would marry and have kids of his own, two things he has neither of.”
“Married once, actually. Got a kid somewhere after the divorce so whatever source you're fact checking for you deserves to be fired.” Lang closed his eyes, he was wondering how long they would keep up the charade that they didn’t know each other. “You’re a cruel woman, although you always have been, haven't you?”
She smiled in a way that read far more as threatening than welcoming which was likely her intended effect. “As a parent you can understand how protective one can get on behalf of one's daughter, especially a daughter who is significantly younger than the man she is betrothed to.”
“Betrothed is an awfully large word,” he posited. “Haven’t asked yet.”
Her eyes sharpen. “And yet you will ask because what else would a man do when they publicly court a girl he has never met so brazenly as you have?”
He smiled. “Your humour truly proceeds you.”
“I am serious, Lord Buddha.” Fiona said sternly, overlooking the bustling ballroom and the many fussy mamas guarding their children. “Your stunt has caused an uproar you cannot even imagine.”
He scoffed.“I have seen no uproar.”
“You wouldn’t, no, the perpetrator hardly does.” Fiona sighed, and turned to him. “All things considered, it is nice to see you again, Buddha. You look old.”
Lang flickered his eyes to her briefly before being pulled back to surveying the crowd. “You’ve done well for yourself. Happiness looks good on you.”
“Is that what this is?” She replied bittersweetly. “I thought people like us didn’t deserve something so cliche.”
“Your husband keeping out of trouble? Tony assured me if he sees your boy in any of our…establishments he’ll kick his ass so hard you’ll only be able to identify him by his bloodstains.”
“Language for Christ sake— look where we are?” She chastised with zero bite in her tone. “Thank you boys, really. I love my family and I’m sure eventually I’ll even love my life.”
He nodded in understanding. “Yes well…I suppose I’ll be joining you on that little journey.”
“Lang…“ She stopped herself. “Just…just tell me why Raia? Why does my daughter have to be a stepping stone for you unlocking your mothers vast fortune, there were plenty of candidates lined up for you to marry when I knew you.”
“She’s funny.” He revealed, a bit of his own walls crumbling. “Quick and smart, those letters prove that. I told her more than…well, more than I’ve told anyone else before. I just—I’m old Fiona…I figured if I had to do this then why not have it be someone good? Not performative good, or bullshit good but an honest to god, good person. I won’t be a good husband but I’ll give your daughter a world she’s always dreamed of.”
Fiona looked to the distance, through the crowd of joyous and calculating mothers and daughters looking for their prize. “And if that included a dream where her husband loved her?”
He shook his head, pawing his pocket yearning to take out his flask right then and there for prosperity, for strength. “Then she dreams a fool's dream.”
Lang could see that he had gotten to her, even though the reminder of his age did little to win himself any favours, she still hasn’t outright denied it yet. “Meet her. Meet my daughter and then if you think this will work for you for—your mothers little trust fun then so be it. But she has every right to say no, do you hear me? I’ll let a lot of things slide Lang but my family is not one of them.”
“Of course.” He said solemnly and in seeing nothing but complete sincerity in his eyes she nodded, almost theatrically straightened her posture and plastered a smile.
“Come then, my daughter is around here somewhere.” And Lang has no choice but to follow her silently, wondering to himself what exactly he’s gotten himself into getting involved with this family.
They found themselves in a garden, the dark of the night was broken up with the warm glow of the lanterns that lined the roof and illuminated one part of the garden that had small accessible benches amongst the roses. The more shadowy section that they didn’t expect people to venture over to unless they were doing some suspicious activities was built like a maze. Large hedges zig and zagged like a puzzle through the courtyard, the end somewhere far in the distance.
Fiona ended up dragging out her eldest son to go looking for her.
“Raia has two brothers.” She said exasperated, pushing her son out to the inside. “Where the other one ended up I have no clue.”
“That’s motherhood for you I suppose.” Lang said, attempting to suppress his smile. “Should I–”
She shot a glare. “Don’t do anything moronic. Find my daughter and call us over, then we’ll make everything official before Carlos catches on.”
“Yes Ma'am.” He saluted, watching as they split up in different directions, the weight of the decision like a burning ring in his pocket that felt so much heavier then when he had first put it in. This was ridiculous, unprecedented and deeply thoughtless but he needed that money and the quicker they go through the awkward stage the better off they’ll be.
He didn’t know the girl's age but it didn’t settle well in his stomach to know she might be a recently debuted debutante who’s first season was going to be nipped in the bud due to his narrow minded focus.
Lang hoped they would have an amicable marriage, it couldn’t possibly be good or nice but amicable should do just fine. His work would be his double life and maybe she’ll be okay with that, because the things he dabbled in well…that was no place for a lady.
Just as he started ruminating on the nature of work he was putting off in attending this ball, it started to rain. There was light laughter as the couples and their trailing chaperone went back inside but Lang just felt empty.
Marriage was such an…ugly word to him, no matter who they connected. His first wife, gone and with no remorse somewhere in Brazil right now with another husband. His son an enigma he barely cares to solve now (he’s tried letters, they return unopened) and here he was hoping a random chit would weigh the benefits and say yes anyway.
Lang snuck back into the maze, away from the couples and families, giving himself a moment to think. There in the centre of the maze hedge was a lovely garden, flowers of every kind surrounding a marble water fountain.
Absently he runs his fingers through the water fountain, uncaring of the light drizzle that created a mist in the garden.
“You seem lost.” A voice interrupted his ruminations, something that only a handful of people have ever been able to accomplish.
“Pardon?” Lang blinked, tense that he had his guard down low enough that someone was able to surprise him.“Who are you?”
“I own the building?” The voice answered light and deep all at the same time. There was a hint of a smile that curled the words, made them bouncy and soft. “Is that believable?”
“Last I checked Tyrone had no children or mistresses so not the most believable, no.” Lang grimaced as the rain picked up, lightly drizzling onto his deceptively cheap suit. “You a trespasser?”
Chiming bells and tinkling brass, his laughter echoed through the maze. Hypnotising, alluring.
“What—“ the bells chime again, deeper now, still beautiful. “You hear a voice at a party and your first instinct is intruder?”
“I didn’t—“ feeling rightfully embarrassed, Lang swivelled to where he thought the voice came from, only to turn to see more maze. “I can’t see you, people with good intent don’t go hiding in mazes.”
“Huh…well I can see you.” They replied, endlessly amused and somewhat irritating Lang to no end. “So what’s that mean? I could be security, hiding around for dangerous men—you don’t know all the staff.”
Lang moved slowly, trying to catch a flash of this bizarre person. “I don’t believe that you do either. If not a criminal than a man up to no good, I can recognise the type. I don’t know where to look but whatever direction you are is pure trouble.”
“All about perspective, I suppose.” They hummed, He heard a slight rustling of leaves in the gazebo in front of him. “...Could try looking up.”
Lang suppressed his grin. “I could.”
“You’re not going to?” The light catches on the blooming flowers surrounding him, lilacs and violets, daisies and poppies and all the flowers Lang knew cost a fortune to maintain lush and fragrant.
Lang shrugged one shoulder, pointedly plucking some of the smaller flowers from the vine wrapping around the gazebo beam. Grabbing a bunch of Honeysuckles and tucking them into his back pocket, a stray stem loose in his hand.
“Well,” The other sighed, a smile evident in his voice. “Your loss, didn’t want to share anyway.”
Unable to help himself, Lang looked up.
“Yuno Sykk,” bright green eyes hidden under black locks, possibly an angel not ruled out yet, his hand outreached. “Macaron?”
“So that was you.” Lang said rather pointlessly, struggling to operate fully functioning and his usual witty self after the face of his torment is revealed. “First assumptions were right then, thief.”
“Thief is an awfully strong word.” The stranger—angel, angel, angel— smiled, and gingerly took Lang's hand, lowering himself down. The rain droplets hitting his back created a halo effect behind him. “That a…no?”
“No.” Lang said shortly and then– part out of intrigue, part in principle—he answered. “I mean it’s not a…I wouldn’t…fine yeah, alright then.”
Pressing a pink strawberry filled macaron into his palm, Yuno jumped down beside him.
He smelled nice, that was Lang’s first reaction to the movement. Something floral and earthy, could be the smells he acquired stuck up in a gazebo but there was also a hint of mint that trailed behind him that felt more like the product of the man than the flora.
The second reaction was an immediate ‘oh he’s going to fall on me’ That was quickly followed by a weight flung on his chest.
“You mustn’t be a spy then,” Lang deadpanned, the apologetic man scrambling off him. “Far too clumsy.”
“I didn’t—mean to do that.” Yuno stammered, a faint pink across his nose.
Lang raised a brow, straightening his cravat. “Yeah I’d hope not.”
As Lang absently took a bite of the treat offered him, Yuno smiled. “For someone so ready to accuse me of criminal activity you sure seem pretty comfortable accepting food from me, I could’ve poisoned it.”
“You didn’t.” He said, popping the whole thing in his mouth.
Yuno stopped. “..So confident? Do I look that unassuming?”
Lang smirked and moved closer into Yuno’s personal space almost on autopilot. “I’m not the best judge of people, been double crossed too often to claim that anymore but if there’s one thing I know intimately well is bad guys. You, my friend, are not even close to the pieces of work I deal with on a regular basis.”
“You’re not a constable.” Yuno realised, a little breathless with how close Lang had suddenly become.
“What gave it away?” Lang took another step forward so Yuno was inadvertently pushed onto the hedge. “The lack of that hat and stick that they carry? The fact that my soul is still intact?”
“People with good intent don’t go hiding in mazes.” Yuno coughed slightly, averting his gaze as the other man inched closer. “I don’t even know your name, that’s far more dangerous than…than sharing treats.”
“Depends on the treat.” Lang smiled, as the man’s blush travelled up high enough to dust his ears and the light drizzle finally faded into nothing, he patted his arm. “Lang Buddha, It’s been truly a pleasure talking with you. I wasn’t expecting anything actually interesting to happen in this dull event so you were a…pleasant surprise.”
“Lang Buddha?” Yuno repeated, stunned. Uncaring or not hearing the commotion in the background of his mother and sister arguing back and forth a little ways in front of them. “I—Lang Buddha, you cannot possibly be the same man who sent the letters I–no, no you couldn’t be—you’re far too—you’re, you’re too tall and, and hand–”
Lang broke into a grin. “Oh! I knew that name sounded familiar, the second brother I take it? It will be an absolute pleasure getting to be more acquainted with you, I hardly ever have good conversations nowadays. It warms the heart to hear your sister speaks well of me, even if our match was rather…turbulent in the current stages.”
“Of course,” Yuno said quietly, a shift in mood that was instantaneous. “It is to be expected she…she loved your letters, always woke up early to intercept them.”
Lang nodded. “I figured the time difference was substantial but when she told me just how significant that difference was I was blown away! Such dedication.”
“You were fun to converse with.” Yuno answered the unspoken question. “...or so I’ve been told.”
“I have never been considered fun in any of my years on earth.” Lang coughed, hiding his amusement. “There’s a first for everything I suppose.”
“You could say that again.” Yuno nodded stiffly and, as if he just realised the situation, he continued. “You came looking for my sister, didn’t you?”
Lang blinked out of his stupor, composing himself once he realised whatever magical moment they shared had passed. “...your mothers idea.”
Yuno smiled faintly, his eyes not matching. “She would be by the old gazebo in front of the maze exit, I think I can hear my mother yelling for you to come out.”
Lang nodded, distracted. “You coming then? Things are going to be changing awfully fast in the next few moments, it would be good to have a friendly face next to me when it does.”
Yuno busied himself with the foliage around him, picking out the odd branches and watching them fall to the ground. “I’ll be right behind you.”
By the time Lang had finally gotten out of the hedges Yuno was long gone and before he could retrace his steps back to find him, he was swept away by Fiona who all but shoved her daughter into his arms and dragged them to the dancefloor.
Although he told himself he would go back to find him after the celebrations, Lang wouldn’t see him again for the rest of the night.
“Lang Buddha,” He smiled charmingly, taking in his soon to be wife. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Likewise.” Rai answered shortly, uncomfortable and awkward. “You know my name.”
“That I do.” There was something wrong with her. Something that didn’t add up to the wholes of the person he was writing to. “So…having a grand time?”
Raia shrugged. “Sure.”
The conversation died, once again, due to the awkwardness.
She was short, far shorter than what he expected and far…well, plain wasn’t the right word. She was a homely woman by most standards, brown mousy hair, clear complexion, bright eyes. Raia would be the envy for many women he would imagine, but there was just…he expected something more when he first saw her. Sparks of something, anything, that told him that this was more than just a political marriage and he wasn’t just using her for a means to an end but someone he could actually grow to love. But as they danced through the same boring moves he could do on autopilot, staring into eachothers eyes both just as apprehensive as the other, he couldn’t help the rushing disappointment that came.
Perhaps that could come later, the feelings and the longing, the attraction and the passion, maybe it’ll grow after the marriage. He had to hope. “Did you get my recent letter? I have made all the proper arrangements for us tonight and have even received your mothers permission, if that was a stipulation you had, I know how close you are with your mother.”
“Yes, I read your letter this morning, I just–” Raia hesitated. “I have some reservations.”
Lang buddha continued, steadfast. “There is time to go through every letter of your reservations on the honeymoon, you won’t mind signing paperwork tonight, correct? I want this done with by the end of the week at the latest.”
Raia ripped her hand out of his grip, disgust painting her face. “Aren’t you a horrid—”
“I don’t–” Lang stuttered, genuinely confused. “I don’t understand, you know who I am, yes?”
“The self important creep writing me letters every week, yes I’ve heard all about you.” Raia narrowed her eyes. “That does not explain this–this insane assumption that we are to be—to be–”
“To be…wed.” He finished slowly. “To be my wife I–I apologise miss, did your mother tell you nothing of the nature of our correspondence? Do you not realise what it means to continue letter sending for as scandalously long as we have? I–I don’t mean to insult you but I assumed you’d be smarter.”
“I assumed you’d be smarter as well, yet here we are,” Raia hissed, gliding through her steps, rigid and stiff. “You really have no idea what is happening, you are so old, good lord.”
“Then what the hell do you mean!?” Lang bites out, feeling equal measures heartbroken and embarrassed. “If you prefer to rip a man's heart out through his ass I would be more than accommodating!”
“I mean they were not my letters you have been receiving!” She finally revealed, accusingly.
Lang took a step back in shock. “What–what are you talking about!?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It was my brother, who has been writing you back all these weeks.”
“Your–” Lang couldn’t even dare finish the sentence let alone the thought, to be strung along and ridiculed so harshly. “Your brother!? I have been talking to–to a man all this time!?”
The words had so much sharp accusation, Raia would never hear the underlying relief that snuck under the radar, the underlying relief that even Lang would not notice until it was far too late.
“So you’ve lied to me?” He hissed, after shaking off his stupor, his betrayal. Leaving nothing but bitterness and vindication. “You and your…brother, have taken me for a fool have you? You believe I am a man you can make a fool of?”
This should have complicated things, stopped the marriage at the least. At the most it would have even been understandable to leave now and refuse any half pie excuses.
Sadly, neither of these things happened.
“I didn’t even know who you were when you walked up to me, saying your name. I didn’t know.” Raia said, a final nail in the coffin and at this point the audience they had garnered had stood and watched as they separated in the middle of the dancefloor. Expectation heavy in the air with her mother looking on in anticipation and the rest of the party with bloodthirsty interest.
“Well then…I’m sure you’ll remember the name after this, Miss Raia Kane Stewart,” Lang all but proclaimed, her name sounding sharp and cruel from his lips. “Will you do me the honour of marrying me?”
If you listened close enough under the rabble of fired up tipsy aristocrats that liked a good wedding just as much as they liked a scandalously short courting period, there was the telltale sound of two hearts breaking at the same time.