Antony made his way downstairs for breakfast the next morning, somewhat groggily. Between the discomfort caused by his wound, and the nightmares that had returned to plague him once more, waking him intermittently throughout the night, he had not been able to sleep as well as he would have liked.
He paused for a moment, before squaring his shoulders and pushing open the door to the dining room. He had been expecting to find his family gathered for breakfast as normal. Instead, Princess Olivya was the only one holding court at the large dining table.
"Good morning, Antony," she said, casting a kind smile in his direction.
"Grandmother," he said, nodding to her, his thoughts still somewhat fixed on the fact that his brother was being held in the palace prisons, beneath the building. It was as though he couldn't escape him. Even the thought of his brother plagued him.
"Come sit," said Olivya, gently. He made his way to the table and sat next to her. She beckoned to a servant standing nearby and the footman brought forward a plate, setting it before Antony.
"Thank you," he muttered as the servant retreated. Olivya dismissed him and returned to her meal. Antony attempted a few bites of the eggs, but soon set his fork down, his appetite nonexistent.
***
Olivya studied her grandson, the frown that was fixed on his face, the tightness of his jaw, the way his right hand clenched whenever his gaze fell on the sling which the physician had insisted that he wear. He was agitated, restless, and angry.
"Antony," she said, gently laying her hand on top of his. He turned his hand to hold hers tightly.
"It's hard..."he said, his voice broken sounding. "I'll be alright. Eventually. It's just...hard."
"I know," she whispered softly. "I watched my husband and my eldest son take the same path of evil that Jonathan has chosen to follow. It will hurt. I won't tell you any differently."
He nodded, staring straight ahead, his expression pained.
She continued. "I know you'll get through this Antony, just as I did. It will just take time."
***
The beginning of the month of December brought first cold and then snow to the Empire of Astoria.
Outside, the drifts piled high around the palace and the groundskeepers were busy clearing the walkways, the front courtyard, and the front steps.
Inside, preparations for the winter gala continued, with Therese nagging the staff constantly about what drapes she wanted where and what her specifications for the dinner ware were.
Antony spent the majority of his time in the front courtyard drilling the palace guard, or indoors in his study, almost constantly working on some sort of paperwork or intently studying the maps of the empire and the lands the rebels occupied.
Meredith herself, for her part, was growing more and more concerned for him. Since the revelation that his brother was alive, he had very much withdrawn. When she questioned him, he forced a smile and assured her that he was fine.
She was sitting at her writing desk in her room one day when she felt something cold and wet hit her in the back of the head. She whirled around to see Isabella grinning from the doorway, Kade standing behind her, his hands wet with snow. Behind him, she saw her two younger sisters peeking around the door frame. She raised one eyebrow. Isabella laughed, and Meredith smiled.
"What is this?" she asked, teasingly.
"A challenge to a snowball fight!" said Isabella, enthusiastically, her cheeks pink with excitement. She was bundled up in her warm winter coat, her hands encased in gloves and her scarf wrapped securely around her neck.
"Come on, Mer!" said Prissy. "Join us!"
Meredith put down her pen and nodded. "I suppose..." she said, standing and retrieving her own gloves, scarf, and coat.
As she fell into step with Isabella, her friend leaned over and spoke quietly into her ear. "I've been worrying about Antony. This discovery about Jonathan...well...I'm sure you understand. Not to mention the fact that yesterday was the aniversary of the day that our fathers were killed by the Borgavians. Anyways...I was thinking that we could get him involved in the snowball fight."
"I don't know if he would..." said Meredith, glancing out the window where Antony was ordering the palace guard through their drills.
"Well," said Isabella, her gaze following Meredith's. "What do we have to lose?"
Meredith's mind was still stuck on the word "Borgavia". Her father had helped to kill Antony's father? Surely he must hate Borgavians now. Would he hate her if he knew? The question plagued her as she followed Isabella down the hallway.
***
Antony had just disbanded the guard and was walking towards the stables when the sting of a snowball against the back of his neck brought him to a sudden halt. He shuddered as the snow immediately began to melt and drip down his back. He awkwardly attempted to brush the powder away. He turned around to see from whence the attack had come.
He frowned. There was no one in sight. The leaves of a nearby bush rustled. Antony stepped cautiously forward. Just as he was a few steps away from the topiary, Kade jumped out at him, unleashing a barrage of snow on Antony.
"What was that for!?" shouted Antony, hopping backwards and glaring at his general. Kade simply grinned and shrugged as Prissy and Samantha popped up, each throwing their own snowballs at Antony.
Antony simply stood there, dumbfounded, as the snow in his hair melted and dripped down his face. Prissy and Samantha ran forward and threw their arms around Antony, who slipped on an icy patch and fell back into a snowdrift, the two little girls still clinging to him.
"Will you be on our team for the snowball fight, Antony?" asked Prissy excitedly.
"Please?" added Samantha.
Antony hesitated. "I...I don't know, girls..." he said, faltering. "I have work to do inside..."
"Please!" shouted Prissy. "Kade keeps hitting us with snowballs!"
"I have...things to do..."
"Come on! Let's find Meredith and Isabella and choose teams!"
"But..."
"Let's go!"
They stood and each took hold of one of Antony's hands, pulling him behind them. After a brief moment of hesitation, Antony followed them.
Kade came after them with a snowball, which he took aim and threw at Samantha. By instinct, Antony pushed her behind him, taking the snowball in the side of his face. Almost in the same motion, he bent to take a hand full of snow, quickly forming it into a ball and lobbing it back at Kade, where it hit him squarely in the chest.
"Good throw!" shouted Kade.
Antony couldn't help but allow himself to smile as the girls congratulated him and led him to the small fort they had built behind one of the low walls lining the courtyard.
Later, after Antony, Prissy, and Isabella had been duly beaten by Kade, Meredith, and Samantha, Antony began to make his way back to the palace, his mind already starting to return to issues other than the small pleasures of a snowball fight. The others had acquired sleds and were starting the long treck up the largest hill on the palace grounds.
"Antony, wait!"
He turned, not expecting to see Meredith hurrying towards him through the deep snow, almost tripping and falling a few times before she finally reached him.
"What's wrong?" he asked her. He frowned slightly, seeing the undercurrents of fear, tension, and grief in her gaze. He couldn't think of anything that might be bothering her so her expression worried him.
"I..." She broke off and looked at the ground. Antony gently took her hand, waiting for her to speak. In the distance, the happy laughter of the others barely reached their ears.
"I need to tell you something," she finally said.
A slight pang of discomfort and apprehension shot through him, but Antony pushed it away and nodded. "Of course," he said, leading her to a bench in the courtyard. They walked slowly, Antony making sure not to go too fast that Meredith couldn't keep up in the snow.
They sat down and he turned to face her.
"Isabella said that...yesterday was the day that your father died."
He was momentarily surprised that this was what she had wanted to speak with him about. "Yes?" he said, his voice questioning. He watched as she trailed her finger in the vestiges of powdered snow that still remained on the stone bench.
"I...I wanted to know..." Her hand clenched slightly. "How did he die?"
He looked at the ground, briefly wondering why she would bring this up so suddenly. What was her purpose? He had never talked of the day his father died with anyone other than Isabella, and even she had never heard everything. He had not even spoken to his aunt about the matter, although she had questioned him and asked him multiple times if he would like to talk about it in the days following the tragedy. No one knew that nightmares of that day still plagued him on occasion. No one knew how deeply the hurt ran.
He sucked in a breath, the icy cold air stinging his throat. He felt as if he were poised on the edge of a cliff, about to lean forward and allow himself to fall, not knowing what was at the bottom. He had never trusted anyone with this part of his life before. As he looked up and met Meredith's eyes, he found himself wanting her to know, not wanting to bear everything alone anymore. And in that moment, he felt brave enough to tell her everything.
"He died the day that my uncle, the former King Rupert, foolishly took the majority of his army, led by himself, my Uncle Edward, and my father, to crush the small kingdom of Borgavia. Looking back, I remember that, for some reason, my father was reluctant to do so, even going so far as to openly tell Rupert that he thought it was a wrong move. But when Rupert ordered...My Uncle Rupert was willing to pull whatever strings he thought were necessary to get what he wanted, even if that meant threats to family members." He shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the ground.
"So he went. And so did Uncle Edward. They won. However, that one battle had a greater cost than anyone could ever have imagined. The king of Borgavia was no fool. Even though he lost, he made sure that he, his eldest son, and the kindom's best assassins were in position to target and kill my father and my two uncles. And I...I suppose I've never forgiven the Borgavians. I already had lost one parent. My father meant the world to me. I still...have dreams about that day. About what he had to go through."
He glanced up at her, noting her palid face and her frozen expression. "I'm sorry..." He said, hesitantly putting out his hand and covering hers, noting how cold her hand was. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"Antony..." she said, her voice almost a whisper.
"Meredith," he said, his voice worried. "Please tell me what's wrong!"
He watched as her eyes filled with tears. Shocked, he leaned forward to comfort her, but she pushed him gently away, standing abruptly. He stood as well, watching her as she turned her back on him and gained her composure.
It started snowing again.
Then she turned to face him once more. Her eyes were red. Flakes of snow landed in her hair, standing out starkly against her dark brown tresses. Antony thought she was beautiful, even when she was upset. He wished he knew what was upsetting her.
"Antony," she said. "I've lied to you."
"What?" he said, his voice guarded, already drawing into himself once more. Lied? About what? He stood stiffly, watching her cautiously as if what she were about to say was something dangerous.
"I'm not from Dunkirk. I mean...yes, I've lived there. But that is not where I was born."
Cold dread clenched a fist in his stomach and he tried to push it away, to believe that whatever she was going to tell him wouldn't be that bad.
"I'm Borgavian, Antony."
He felt as though someone had punched him in the throat and, for a moment, he found it difficult to breathe. Finally, teeth clenched, he met her gaze, his voice betraying the shock and hurt that was currently leaving him reeling. "What? Meredith?"
***
She nodded. "My father..." Her voice broke. "My father is the one who ordered his soldiers to kill your father."
She could see the hurt and confusion, the pain, written in his face. She hated that she and her words were the reason for it. She held out a hand in an attempt to comfort him, but he shook his head and took a step backwards.
"Antony...Please..."
"What else has been lies, Meredith?" He said, his voice angry and hurt. She could almost visibly see him beginning to close himself off to her, to resurrect all the walls that he had let down for her.
"Nothing else!" she said, desperately, realizing that she might lose him. "I love you, Antony! I've been told all my life, by my mother and my oldest brother that I need to keep this a secret, that I can never reveal to anyone that I am a princess by birth. It was their way of protecting our family after my father died. They don't even know that I've told you. You know me, Antony," she whispered. "Does this really have to change anything? I was only a child; I had no idea what it would mean for my father to give that order."
His gaze was stony as he stared back at her levelly. "Do I really know you, Meredith?" he said, his voice low.
She stood there, bereft, as the snow fell quietly around them.
She took a step forward, lifting her feet through the deep snow, feeling as if she was being held back.
She stopped, her heart breaking as he shook his head once, and then turned away.
She felt unable to move as he walked away from her, his head held high, even as his shoulders were slumped.
She watched him until the swirling snow hid him from view, and then she began the long, lonely treck back to the palace.
***
Isabella noticed the dejected way her friend was acting.
"What's wrong, Meredith?" she asked. "Are you alright?"
"I'm just feeling a bit ill," replied Meredith, forcing a smile. "I think that I'll not be down for dinner this evening."
Isabella nodded, her expression still a bit worried, before turning and leaving for dinner herself, pulling her shawl around her against the winter chill in the palace hallways.
Entering the dining hall, she sat down in her place next to her Aunt Catherine. Prissy and Samantha had gone home, and so the only people around the dinner table were Nash, Catherine, Therese, and Isabella herself. Olivya was absent.
"Where is Antony?" questioned Therese, impatiently glancing at the hot food waiting on the sideboard.
Isabella opened her mouth to say that she didn't know, but her words were halted before they even left her mouth by the opening of the dining room door. The entire table looked at Fulton expectantly.
"King Antony will not be dining tonight."
"Is he ill?" said Therese, frowning.
"He did not give a reason for his absence, but he seemed to be in fine health," said Fulton. "If there is nothing else you need from me, I will make my leave now." He bowed and departed.
Isabella frowned, thinking of Meredith, also absent from dinner. She came to the conclusion that something had happened between the two of them.
After dinner was over, she made her way upstairs to her cousin's study. She waited a few moments before knocking twice on the study door. No answer.
She knocked again.
A few moments later, she heard footsteps, and then the door opened.
"Yes?" said Antony, his voice sounding tired.
"Is there something wrong between you and Meredith?" she asked him, concerned.
He shook his head. "I don't wish to talk about it. I have things to do."
She stood there for a while, letting his words sink in. He had never pushed her away in quite this manner. He had almost seemed...cold.
"Antony?" she pressed him. "What's happened?"
He frowned at her, an almost angry light coming into his eyes. "I don't think I need to repeat myself, but in case you didn't hear me the first time, I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about her."
Isabella pulled away, hurt.
Antony sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "I'm...sorry, Isabella. That was unnecessarily harsh." He looked at her, distractedly picking at a loose end of the bandage on his right arm. "I just...don't want to talk about it at the moment."
She nodded slowly, before stepping forward and giving him a quick embrace, before pulling away and looking at him for a few moments. He forced a smile.
Then she left and he shut the door.
***
Antony stood, facing the closed door, his hand still on the doorknob. He sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the door. He felt a bit guilty for responding so coldly to Isabella. She had meant no harm.
He straightened and went to stand before the window, pulling back the red drapes with one hand and looking down over the courtyard, the perfectly clear sky allowing the full moon to illuminate the snowy ground.
His grip around the drapes tightened as his eyes fell on the bench where Meredith had told him that she had lied to him all this time.
He sat down at his desk chair, setting his elbows on the desk and covering his face with his hands.
You were a fool, Antony, to love her.
He stopped, frowned, and corrected himself. You are a fool, Antony, for loving her still.
He rang the bell, bringing Fulton to his office within the next few moments.
"Yes, Sire?"
"That infernal party of my aunt's is tomorrow, isn't it?"
"Yes, Sire."
Antony looked up and faced his butler.
"If you would, please tell Kade I would like to speak to him." He quickly ammended his words. "That is, if he's not busy." He sighed. "Also, a glass of wine, please, Fulton."
Fulton nodded, bowed slightly, and retreated. He came back somewhat later with a bottle of wine and a glass on a tray. "The general said that, as long as you do not mind, he will be up in about three quarters of an hour. He is with the Princess Isabella."
"Of course," said Antony, nodding. Fulton poured Antony a glass of the red wine and stood back as the king took a sip.
"Thank you, Fulton," said Antony, after a moment. "That will be all."
***
Fulton hesitated. He had not served Astoria's young king for a very long time, but, from what he knew of him, the man was not one to drink.
"Is something wrong, Sire?" he questioned, hesitantly, his posture stiff. He reached up and self-consciously pulled his bow tie a bit looser as Antony looked up and met his eyes.
The king frowned and seemed to be considering whether or not to speak. Fulton stood still under his ruler's scrutiny.
"Nothing of consequence," he said, finally.
Fulton nodded and turned to go.
"Wait."
He stopped, his hand on the door.
"Fulton, thank you."
He nodded simply and left.
***
Kade climbed the stairs to Antony's study, feeling as though everything was right in the world. He was in such rapture that he felt that nothing could go wrong for him tonight.
He smiled, thinking of the joy on Isabella's face when she had shyly nodded her head in response to his question, before finally whispering "yes".
Now, they only needed Antony's blessing. Isabella's mother had already given her, although somewhat unenthusiastic, consent.
He knocked on the door to Antony's study.
"Come in," he heard from inside.
He entered the room and immediately frowned when he saw Antony, sleeves rolled up and shirt collar undone, sitting at his desk, papers swept haphazardly everywhere.
"Antony?" he questioned his friend, noting the goblet of wine and the half empty wine bottle. For one of the soldiers in the army who was used to holding his alchohol, it wouldn't be an amount to worry much over, but Antony didn't usually drink.
Antony looked up and met Kade's gaze tiredly, his eyes somewhat unfocused.
"How much have you had?" asked Kade, authoritatively, sitting down across from the man he called leader and friend.
"Two glasses too much," muttered Antony.
"How much?" repeated Kade.
"Three glasses," groaned the king. "Take it away. I shouldn't."
Kade nodded and rang the bell for Fulton, handing the butler the wine bottle. He closed the door behind Fulton and returned to his seat.
"You have enough control of your wits, Antony, to know when enough is enough. That's admirable."
Antony simply stared at the desk in front of him, fiddling absent-mindedly with a pen.
Kade sighed. "What's wrong, Antony?" He felt guilty for wishing that Antony was in a better mood so he could request his blessing for his marriage to Isabella.
"What's wrong?" Antony gave a short, bitter laugh. "In the past two weeks, I've learned that, not only is my brother alive, but he's a traitor to Astoria. I've been stabbed in the arm. I've lost a snowball fight." Kade rolled his eyes at this last statement. "And," added Antony, his voice quiet, and somewhat, in Kade's opinion, pitiful. "I've only just learned that the only girl I've ever loved...lied to me."
Kade frowned. 'What?" he said, unsure of what he had just heard.
"You heard me," said Antony. He leaned back in his chair. "She's pretended, all this time, that she was simply a poor servant girl from Dunkirk, when really, she's the deposed princess of Borgavia, in hiding. Borgavians under my very roof. The family of the very same Borgavian King who gave orders to kill my father!" As he spoke, more and more anger tinged Antony's words, and the increased excitement, combined with the wine, caused his words to run together somewhat.
Kade simply sat there, shocked. Meredith had kept this from them all for this long? Aside from that, he knew how Antony felt about the conquered nation of Borgavia. It was one of a few things that made his friend truly angry. With everything that had happened in recent weeks, it seemed incredibly cruel that he should hear this news on top of everything else.
"I'm...sorry, Antony," said Kade, sincerely, feeling that the words were simply empty, knowing that they would offer no comfort. "What," he said, after a moment, "are you going to do?"
Antony shook his head. "What can I do? What should I do? Most kings, like my uncle, would kill them, thinking of them as a threat to Astoria."
Kade felt cold inside. Surely Antony wouldn't kill them?
"But I can't."
"Can't? Or won't?"
Antony seemed to think for a moment. "Both," he finally said. "I won't. I won't because I can't. Because I'm a bloody idiot, Kade." He groaned and laid his arms on the desk, hiding his face in them, knocking over the empty wine goblet. "Because, no matter what lies she told me, no matter how much I hate Borgavia for taking my father from me, I still love her Kade." His voice caught. "I'm still in love with her."
Kade sat there, dumbstruck. He had never seen his friend this way. Half-drunk and seemingly broken and undone.
A few moments later, Antony sat up once more, his eyes a bit bloodshot and his expression tired, his hair sticking up a bit.
"I need to get some sleep," he said, his words sounding somewhat confused, as though he wasn't sure. "But first...I called you here to let you know that, when the army leaves the day after tomorrow, I'm departing with you."
Kade nodded. "Of course," he said. He stood, feeling sorry for his friend, but not knowing what to say. He turned back once, when he reached the door. "I'm sorry, Antony," he said, sincerely.
Antony shook his head. "I'm sorry, too, Kade."
Kade turned to go once more.
"Kade?" said Antony. "You seemed...happy about something...when you first came in?"
"Oh," said Kade. "It can wait."
"No," said Antony, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me."
Kade slowly turned around. "I asked Isabella if she would marry me."
A small spark of happiness seemed to cross Antony's face. "And?" he said.
"She said yes. I had meant to come and request your blessing of our marriage but..."
"I understand," said Antony. "I'm sorry I've been somewhat...out of sorts...this evening. Of course I give you my blessing, Kade. There is no one I would trust more with my cousin."
Kade smiled. "Thank you," he said, the joy beginning to warm him once more.
"Of course," said Antony.
And, as Kade turned to leave, he had the sense that, no matter what Antony had had to deal with lately, he was genuinely happy for them.
***
Sorry for any typos or mistakes! This will be edited later, but for now...It's late, I'm tired, and...college! :P Classes in the morning! SO. I shall leave you with this chapter. It's not up to my usual standards, I don't think but...I haven't updated for so long that I felt the need to post. :P
Media is Meredith. I thought the picture fit the general mood of the chaper, minus the happy (short-lived) snowball fight part. :)
And now, I leave you with that! Good evening! :)