He was working again.
Perhaps the better question to ask would be: When was he not? The prince of Norad, regally clad in practical robes and elegant cloak, took a quick stretch before he resumed looking over reports of the kingdom's financial dealings. Lost in his reviews, Arthur failed to notice the light pattern of steps growing louder as they approached his desk.
In contrast, it was impossible to ignore the loud slap of hands on the wood surface. Startled, he looked up into a smiling Margaret's face. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "May I help you Meg?" He said carefully, trying to understand what was causing her expression.
Her posture was stiff, hands still on the desk. "Perhaps you could," she said. "You see, there's this wonderful dish Porcoline made, and I'm trying to prevent him from eating it."
Arthur blinked in confusion. "But food is made to be consumed," he pointed out, "I don't see the problem."
Meg gave a little sigh. "Yes, but it's the wrong person trying to eat it." Seeing that he still didn't understand, she got to the point. "When's the last time you ate?"
Realization dawned on him. "I had a refreshing dish of pickled turnips from Frey," he recounted.
"That was yesterday. She told me about it." Meg was no longer smiling. Leaning forward, she spoke in a low, intense tone. "You will come with me and eat, or I will drag you from that desk. Make your choice." She straightened and slowly turned to walk back to the dining hall. Arthur rose, but not without protest.
"I could eat my food here while I – "
"That desk is meant for work, not for eating. Come and eat with us."
He gave a mental sigh and followed her figure to one of the tables in the restaurant. Porcoline sat there, eyeing his creations with a watery mouth. Seeing his guest, his expression lit up. "Ah, Arthur, there you are! So very glad to see you! Come enjoy this scrumptious dish."
The prince gave a smile, finally acknowledging the concern both cook and musician had for his well-being. "It looks wonderful. Thank you for making this." He said. Porcoline's eyes crinkled in joy. "It's my pleasure." The cook replied.
As Arthur began eating, Margaret spoke. "I want you to reserve one and seven o'clock every day for at least fifteen minutes, save for holidays. That's when you take a break and eat here in the restaurant or upstairs." He carefully chewed and swallowed his food before replying, "I believe that can be arranged. Thank you."
The three continued to chat about casual topics, the older residents glad their present royalty was taking a break from work.
o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o
At the end of Beach Day, Dylas noticed two things. One was that he now had several pieces of seafood from his time fishing with Frey, second his room neighbour was developing a weary aura.
Oh, Arthur still kept his perfect posture and manners (and those dreadfully formal robes). He even held the odd-shaped book in the same position as always. It was the minute expressions on his face that changed, eyelids drooping when he thought nobody was looking.
Dylas kept these observations to himself, but his expression remained thoughtful as evening progressed.
Night arrived, with residents each in their respective homes, tired from the heat and fun of the holiday. Arthur was in his room, and felt a lack of energy as he looked over some smaller reports of trade in Selphia. Hearing a muffled *thump* from the hall, he set aside his papers and curiously poked his head out the bedroom door.
Within his line of sight was something on the table. Approaching it, he saw a plate of tuna sashimi alongside a cup of relax tea. In front was a little card with his name on it. Smiling, he picked up the food and drink, his intention to enjoy it and get some rest, if the tea was any indication.
While his figure retreated from the table, a pair of eyes watched in satisfaction and closed for their own rest.
o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o
Everyone could feel the weather getting chillier as the leaves turned from shades of green to vibrant hues of orange, red, and yellow. Frey decided it was the perfect day to enjoy the last warmth of sunlight before it gave way to colder days of cloud and frost. She intended to not do it alone.
"Arthur!"
"Good morning Frey." He said, not looking up from his desk. However, a soft smile graced his features.
"Yes, but it will soon be afternoon. Which means it's the perfect time for you to go on a picnic with me!" Frey responded, cheerful as always.
"Hmm? But I have my work to do. Don't you need the harvest report soon?" The prince countered.
Her eyes smiled in amusement. "Not for another week, silly. Anyways it's a Sunday! Time for a break!"
He tilted his head a little in consideration. "But business continues regardless of what day it is."
Frey gave a little sigh. It was time to use her trump cards. "I made rice balls. And you can change your frames to match the season since we'll be outside."
Arthur's head jolted up at the words "rice balls" and widened with joy at the chance to use his collection. "Really? Give me two minutes." He quickly busied himself shuffling papers together and turned to select which colour and shaped would be appropriate for the outing. While he was looking away, Frey gave a sly wave and thumbs up to Margaret, who was peeking through the door. Meg smiled in reply and retreated before Arthur could notice.
"Alright, let's go." He said, eyes flashing behind new glasses. The two made their way to the lake, admiring the fluttering leaves on the way. Once they reached their destination, the blanket was established and food was put out on its surface.
As they were munching, Frey asked, "Aren't you glad you came out now?"
"Oh yes." Arthur replied. "I get to wear cute glasses, enjoy delicious food, and be in the company of your cute self. Thank you for making lunch by the way" He nodded his head in acknowledgement towards her.
"Ah. You're very welcome." She said, cheeks tinged pink from the comments.