Chapter 9

Gavin was going home.

After a week of halfhearted searching for Isabella, he had given up and turned east. His plan had been to track the girl down, but he had lost her trail after only two days. Frustrated, he had thought of returning to the castle, but upon considering the repercussions of having run off with the princess, he had decided it was safest to return home.

Now, as he approached the dilapidated manor, he was beginning to have doubts. He suddenly remembered why he had left in the first place. From the road he could see detached shutters, broken windows, and holes in the roof. The further he went, the worse things got. The gravel drive was nearly overgrown with weeds, and the once beautifully sculpted gardens had become wild.

After several minutes of pounding on the chipped paint of the front door, Gavin let himself in. He was immediately hit with a wave of stale air and the scent of mildew. As his eyes adjusted, he frowned more deeply. The front hall was filthy, and as far as he could see in the dim light, every door was blocked off.

If I'd known things had gotten this bad, I would have come home sooner, he thought.

"Hello?" he called into the echoing, empty hall. "Father? Meers? It's me, Gavin."

He heard a door slam upstairs and a man with a stern expression on his face, sporting an old, much-patched suit, appeared.

"Master Gavin!" he said. "This is quite the surprise. Come upstairs. Your father will be most happy to see you."

"It's good to see you, too, Meers," Gavin said with a nod to the manservant. "What's happened here?"

Meers fidgeted and stroked his thick mustache. "I'm afraid things have only gotten worse since you left, Master Gavin. As you can see, we've had to close off most of the house. Your father's chambers and the kitchen are all that we're able to use now."

Gavin shook his head in disbelief. "What about the money I've sent you? My winnings from the tournament? It was a hefty enough sum."

Meers sighed. "I'm afraid your father, even in his times of trouble, is more fond of spending than of saving. He squandered a good deal of the money on a fine celebration dinner for you, and what little was left we spent in closing off the parlor and the drawing room."

Gavin let out a sigh. "Take me up to see him, Meers. I promise I'll try to reason with him."

Meers smiled stiffly. "Thank you, Master Gavin. The Missus will be most happy if you could. She's unwilling to work for no pay, especially when we could find work elsewhere."

"Father's not paying you?" Gavin asked as they began climbing the stairs. He could now see that the hall was devoid of any form of decor, save for the threadbare carpet under their feet. "Where's everything gone? Surely Father hasn't sold it?"

Meers shook his head. "Sir Rodger doesn't have the funds to pay us, but he has yet to sell a single item. He absolutely refuses. He keeps a detailed inventory of everything in the house and checks it every time one of us leaves. He's even so paranoid as to have moved everything into his chambers where he can keep an eye on it."

Gavin opened his mouth to reply, but they had already reached his father's chambers. Meers knocked sharply and pushed the door open.

"Master Gavin, sir," he said stiffly before clapping Gavin on the shoulder encouragingly and slipping out.

The room was worse than Gavin had imagined it to be. Every surface was covered in vases, busts, and other knickknacks. Countless paintings stood against the walls, furniture, and each other. Piles of books covered the floor, along with rolled-up rugs and tapestries. Furniture was crowded into the room such that it was nearly impossible to maneuver.

"Gavin?" His father stood from one of six armchairs near the fireplace and turned around to look at him. Gavin was mildly shocked at how much his father had changed. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his eyes pale and watery, and his curly brown hair— so like Gavin's own— had begun graying and falling out. As Gavin picked his way across the room, he noticed the stubble on his father's cheeks, the wrinkles in his clothes, and the dark circles under his eyes. Never had he seen his father look so unkempt.

"Why aren't you in the capital, training to be a knight?" Sir Rodger asked irritably.

"Hello to you, too, Father," Gavin replied sarcastically.

"Has something happened? Gavin, what did you do? You were months away from being knighted, and now you've done something stupid—"

"I need a place to stay for a while. I thought I would be welcome here."

"A place to stay? Why in heaven's name do you need a place to stay?"

"I ran off, Father." Best to tell him now, Gavin thought.

"Ran off? But Gavin, you were doing so well! You won that tournament! I was so proud of you. Why in the name of heaven did you run off?"

"I hardly planned it, Father. It rather...came up suddenly."

Sir Rodger scowled. "Explain yourself, boy."

"Isabella Ivonson fell in love with me. Her family wished to arrange a marriage with a different man, but she wouldn't have it. She begged me to run off with her. So I did." He couldn't keep a note of pride out of his voice. Having the princess fall in love with you was quite a feat, after all.

"Isabella Ivonson," his father said, as if trying to place the name. "Prince Frederich's daughter?"

"That's the one."

"She wanted to run off with you? To get married? Gavin, my son, that's wonderful! But why isn't she with you?"

Gavin frowned. This was the part his father wouldn't be especially proud of him for.

"I'm afraid she ran off on her own, Father."

"Ran off? I thought she was in love with you!"

"She found out about certain...activities of mine," Gavin confessed, fixing his gaze on the dusty carpet at his feet.

"Activities, indeed. A fine, delicate word for you dalliances. You've learned well at court, I see. I can only hope you bedded her first, at least."

Gavin bit his lip. "She wouldn't let me near her until we married."

"Why didn't you, then? Gavin, do you know what a marriage between our family and the royal family could do for us? We'd have money again. We could restore the house. I could die in peace, happy and proud of my son!"

"I will not be committed to her because you are too foolish to save your money! I will not be forced into a position of royalty for your sake!" Gavin roared, standing.

"You would never have to do anything! Her father would become king, and her brother after him. Your job would be to behave yourself at court functions and keep from starting a scandal. Not that that would be easy for you," Sir Rodger said scathingly as he also rose to his feet.

"You're a fine one to talk!" Gavin said angrily. At his father's questioning look, he continued. "Do you think the capital doesn't gossip about Sir Rodger Handley, the great hero of the war, the ambassador to Ilia, and how he lives in debt and squalor? Do you know what it's like, walking through the halls and knowing I have to work all the harder to prove myself because everyone knows I'm your last hope?"

"What do you expect me to do?" his father asked, suddenly helpless. He collapsed back into his armchair.

"You're a damned idiot, you know that, Father?" Gavin asked. This broken man before him was not the father he remembered. "You live here and squander what little money you have on fine dinners while your house rots and your servants starve. You refuse to sell a single artifact, even though it could save you. Instead you sit and berate your son as if I were the only way to bring you out of debt! Well, I'm not, Father. You could do it just fine on your own if you would only learn to save your money!"

"You think I would sell anything in this house?" his father asked. "Everything here was your mother's! She decorated the house. She bought everything. To sell even the tassel on a tapestry is to sell a piece of her."

"Keeping her furnishings won't bring her back! It's not what she would have wanted. Do you think she'd rather you keep a vase and starve than sell it and live?"

"She would have wanted you to be successful. If she could see you now, she'd be so ashamed."

"Ashamed? Father, I am training to be a knight. I won a tournament against knights far more experienced than I. Princess Isabella fell in love with me, to the point where she begged me to run away with her and marry her. What have I done that my mother wouldn't be proud of?"

"You haven't managed to marry the princess, have you?" Sir Rodger replied angrily, rising to his feet again. "And you've quit your training to run about the country bedding every girl you come across— that is, except for the one that could actually help your case."

"I—" Gavin began, but his father cut him off before he could defend himself.

"I know what you do in the capital, Gavin. You claim to be so generous because you sent us your winnings. Do you think we're really that blind? I know what the real winnings were, and Meers knows. You sent us less than half. As for the rest of it, well, I can only imagine where that went. And now, now you come to me begging for me to take you back so you can continue being a worthless good-for-nothing like you always have!"

Gavin was trembling with rage. "I see I was wrong in hoping you'd help me," he said through clenched teeth. "I suppose I'll find some cheap hostel to live in instead."

"Don't you dare walk out that door unless you plan to return with the princess in hand," Sir Rodger threatened.

"I will not seek out Isabella. She does not want me, and I most assuredly do not want her."

"You will find her or you are not my son."

Everything inside Gavin froze. Was his father disowning him? He couldn't! Gavin needed his father, as much as he hated him. He needed this manor, where he had grown up, where his only memories of his mother resided, where he planned to spend his fortune in restoration to create the perfect home for his family.

"Maybe I don't want to be your son, then," Gavin said.

His father's face reflected the surprise Gavin felt at his words. But the more he thought about them, the more true they were. If his father disowned him, he would be free. Free of the obligation to his father, free to marry whomever he chose. He could do things without thinking of his family's honor. He could spend money on himself instead of sending it all home. And someday, when his father had died and he was rich, he could buy the manor and restore it, and when his family moved in he could tell them stories about it and show them secret passages he had found as a child. Suddenly, freedom from his father was all he wanted.

"You want to be my son, Gavin," his father said coldly. "If you aren't, you're not a noble. If you're not a noble, you're not a knight, no matter what training you've received. You'll never have that happy life you've dreamed of, because you won't be able to make the money you'll need. As much as you hate me, son, I'm your only chance at your future."

Gavin looked at his feet. His father was undeniably right. He couldn't succeed without his father, and he certainly couldn't succeed with his father. His only option, it seemed, was that his father had offered: a marriage with Isabella. The last thing either of them wanted. His father had played a trump card. Gavin could do nothing but agree.

"What do you suggest I do?" he asked softly.

"Follow her. Apologize. Swear you'll never be unfaithful again," Sir Rodger said, his voice cool and commanding.

"I cannot do that."

"Your promise would only need keep until you wed her. After that, it's too late for her to do anything. Although I may suggest you be a bit more subtle in the future. The last thing the royal family wants is a scandalous member."

"What if she won't take me back?"

"Make her take you back. I know you can do it. You've seduced dozens of girls before; surely you can seduce one."

"Isabella's stubborn, though."

"Don't argue with me, boy! You'll do it, or you'll work as a servant for the rest of your life," his father said.

Images raced through Gavin's mind. Him, scrubbing pots in the palace kitchens. His old acquaintances laughing as he mucked out stalls. His pitiful store of money dwindling as he tried to drink off his misery. The girls he had once charmed so successfully rebuffing him mockingly. All that was in store for him was sheer wretchedness unless he did as his father asked.

"I'll do it," he said, defeated. "I'll find Isabella, and I'll make her marry me, by whatever means necessary."

His father smiled. "That's my boy."

Hi. So, um, yeah. It's been forever since I updated this story, which is horrendous, but I actually wrote the next chapter out in its entirety today, and hopefully I can write a couple more in the near future so I can update again. This chapter, however, has been sitting on my hard drive for well over a year and a half. I held back on posting it mostly because I forgot I hadn't done so. So yeah. New chapter woooo!...

I wanted to write this chapter to show that Gavin is a person, too, not just some womanizing jerk. I like complex characters. Poor Gavin. His dad is mean and he is poor. That's complexity, right?

Anyway, if you remember this story after all this time, drop a review! If you don't, reread it and then drop a review! If you're new, hi! Hopefully this won't happen again for a while!

~~Mazzie~~