Atlas (A Selection/Hat Films Fanfiction)

~ Thirty Six ~

I looked at my wrist again, checking the time on the diamond encrusted watch I had found while scouring my closet. I absently thought about how much this must have cost while I stared at the second hand ticking away. I didn't even wear watches, and yet it was sitting with thousands of dollars of other jewelry.

I had been too nervous and now I had to wait in the shadow of a decorative shelf in the hallway and hope that no one would see me this close to the royals' rooms. I prayed that arriving too early wouldn't ruin my plan.

I heard the new guards approaching and swore in my head as I scurried down the hall to peak around the corner. The current standing guards were talking quietly to each other, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw them move further down the hall. Slipping along the wall, I bent over and tried to be as quiet as I could as I rushed past the King and Queens room and down to the end of the hall where I had been instructed.

I didn't have time to knock or question if this was the right room as I heard the footsteps of the guards round the corner. Thankful that it was unlocked, I opened it just wide enough to squeeze through before quickly shutting it behind me.

"Lady Atlas," Gavril Turps greeted, making me jump as he reached over and flicked on a second light to his desk lamp. He was in more casual attire, choosing a plain polo instead of his normal blue suit.

"Do you just stay up this late every night?" I asked, looking him up and down suspiciously.

"I wake up for the changing of the guards," he replied, taking a seat at his desk and offering me a couch across from him with a wave of his hand, "I've been waiting to speak with you."

The room was split, and a pair of closed double doors must have led to his real bedroom, for which I was thankful. I felt more comfortable in his private office than I would have if this were a single room.

I didn't take up his offer, choosing to stand in the middle of the room. I had on a plain, beige, strapless dress that I had changed in to after my maids had left, but I wished I had thrown a robe over me as well because I felt very exposed. I still didn't trust him.

"What is your role in all this?" I asked coolly, wanting to skip his normal, 'charming' banter routine and get straight to the point.

"I keep a close eye on the royal family," he replied cryptically, "I control the public narrative as best as I can."

"What do you want?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes at him.

"The same thing you want, I imagine," he shrugged, waving a hand arbitrarily, "a reformation of the government system we are currently."

"So, you're part of the Northern Rebellion," I said to confirm my suspicions.

"The North Star Reformation Forces," he corrected, "but yes, I am. . . and I am aware of who you really are, Atlas Avery."

"An abandoned orphan left to die for some half-baked plot to gain control of a country through depraved means?" I asked bitterly.

He sighed. "Your mother was not always the leader of the NSRF," he explained gently, "she had been a general for a long time before our old Commander was killed in a botched supplies raid about a year ago."

"But she's had this plot for years," I accused, "I was barely a teenager when she faked her death."

"She cared about you, Atlas," he insisted, "but losing her husband really broke her, and she was badly injured from the accident – paralyzed from the waist down for many years; that part was real. She still doesn't have control of her left arm." I had noticed that, but I hadn't realized it was from the accident and not from rebel fighting. "We had lost you for some years too. It wasn't as calculated as she makes it out to seem."