Astoria

s e v e n t e e n

Isabella knocked hesitantly on the door of her cousin's study. After a few moments, she had grown hopeful that he either wasn't there, or thought her another of his annoying advisors and would not bother to answer the door.

However, the door soon opened, and he glared down at her.

The first thing she thought was that she hadn't realized he'd gotten this much taller than her.

Immediately followed by the realization that she had never seen him this angry before in her life.

She smiled weakly and did the best thing she knew how to do: launched into an explanation.

"Antony...We really thought there would be no harm done...It was a dare!"

"We?"

"My lady's maid and I."

"I see. It seems your lady's maid is not a good influence on you."

"Actually...It was all my idea." She looked at the floor in embarrassment.

"Can one not expect to go out and ride one's own horse? Or is that too much to ask?"

She watched her cousin carefully for a bit. She had been distracted from the stress of things by the glories of having a friend, while Antony was left with no one and much more to face than she had. She felt immediately sorry that they had taken his horse. It was only another little thing to add to his already overflowing list of concerns and worries.

"I'm sorry, Antony..." she said. "I really am."

He turned to look at her, his mouth set into a hard line and his eyes narrowed.

"Did you think? You, or your companion might have been injured! I know, from the stable boy, that it wasn't you riding Emery. Your foolishness could have injured the horse, or one of you!"

She stared at the ground, feeling very ashamed. She had heard Meredith shriek as she fell off and had been afraid that she had hurt herself but she seemed fine on the walk back to the stable. She watched her cousin from the corner of her eyes as he struggled with being angry and being relieved that no damage had been done. After a while he sighed and ran a hand through hair.

"It's alright, Isabella. I... shouldn't have become so angry at you." He turned and went to stand before the window, his posture rigid.

She came to stand next to him, and hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. He immediately slumped somewhat dejectedly.

"I don't know, Isabella. I don't know how I'm going to do this."

"One day at a time," she promised him. "Just as you have been."

He sighed and gave her an unconvincing, weak smile. "I suppose that's all I can do."

That night, the nightmares did not even have a chance to bother Antony, for sleep eluded him from the beginning.

He finally stood, dressed, and walked from his room, wandering the palace aimlessly, with no real place in mind to go.

He found himself in the portrait gallery, where the outdated portraits of himself and his cousin had been taken down and leaned against the wall, waiting to be moved.

He came to the portraits of his mother and father and stopped, looking up into the faces of his parents: the mother he had hardly known and the father he had so loved. He could see resemblance to them in himself: his father's hair, his mother's eyes...And yet he felt so apart from them.

He wished he had known his mother. She looked so kind, from her portrait, and William had always told his son how lovely and caring and funny she had been. That was one thing that Antony had been taught by his father growing up: his mother loved him, and she didn't leave him on purpose. She desperately wished that she would have lived to see her younger son grow up. Antony knew his father hadn't left him on purpose either.

So why did he feel so alone?

"Prince Antony?"

He turned abruptly towards the direction of the voice.

"I...Am I not allowed to be here?" The voice was soft, and sounded worried.

"No, no. It's fine." He frowned, slightly. "Who are you?"

Slowly, the figure in the light blue dress that had before blended so completely into the shadows now stepped into the light and faced him.

"Lady Adelaide," he said, surprised. So this is the girl my aunt favors.

The girl, her blonde hair in one long braid, nodded. "I apologize for disturbing you, Sir," she said, softly. "I can leave."

"It really is fine. Er..." He hesitated. "You can stay."

She took a few steps forward and came hesitantly to stand at his side.

"Your parents?" she finally said, angling her head towards the portraits before them. Antony nodded briefly.

"They look very kind," she said.

"They were, although...I never knew much of my mother."

"She's very pretty; it's a shame that she had so short to live."

"Yes..."

"You are sad."

It was a statement; she was sure. And, for some reason, Antony felt as though he could tell her the truth.

"I am frequently sad."

"Please don't be," she said, softly. "Grief does not bring back the dead." She sounded sad also and Antony turned to look at her.

"Who did you lose?" he asked, softly, his tone concerned.

"My sister," she finally said.

"I am very sorry," he said, quietly, and, noticing the tears that quickly welled up in her eyes, he placed a hand gently on her back and led her to one of the portrait gallery's plush sofas and sat down next to her.

After a while, she said, "Thank you for your kindness."

He nodded and looked at her, concerned.

She smiled. "Don't be worried for me. I often cannot sleep."

"I too, have trouble sleeping."

She laughed, slightly. "My mother told me that if my tendancy to walk the palace at night were discovered by anyone, they would think me strange."

"I suppose, being servants of mine, they have grown used to such behavior."

"Yes."

They were silent once again. Antony wished that she would go to sleep, rest, and leave him unworried about how to continue a conversation, but, at the same time, he was glad for her company, and wished her to stay.

"I should probably return to my room now," she said, finally. "I won't disrupt you any longer."

"Let me walk you," said Antony, quickly, then immediately cursing himself for being so quick to speak. He wanted to walk with her...but he wouldn't know what to say. Should he remain silent? Offer her his arm?

"Thank you," she said, simply, smiling at him a bit shyly. They set off, towards her rooms, and, almost as an afterthought, he decided to offer her his arm, which she took.