To Superdani4Ever: Everything's not so bad- I just needed a good plan of all of this. And here is the next chapter of this story- ever since I've posted the previous chapter, I've been on a roll. Like I said before, this is the next stage of the storyline.
I think Dimitri could handle his mother better than Aglaia, though. Aglaia was the youngest, she had always been firmly within her mother's grasp, even during wartime. Plus, he's very discreet, even his mother would find it difficult to find anything. He makes sure she knows where the limits are. As for the reason as to why her brothers didn't notice her ex? He's supposed to be dead- they all thought they'd seen him die, and there was evidence. Apparently, they were wrong. I admit, I thought of Charlize Theron in SWATH more than Sharon Stone (because she's so beautiful and the way she looks at her rivals would stop them dead), but that works too. They're a tight-knit family, and Anastasia knows that to beat the threats to her daughter and grandchildren, she has to play their game… For now. Of course, how can they possibly control those relatives of theirs? The reason Aglaia put herself in Veruca's firing line is because she knows that if her husband exacts the punishment, or anyone else, Veruca would threaten them. If it was only Aglaia, then her vendetta would be on her alone. There's no controlling them, so it would be a total failure, resulting in disaster to even try.
Robert and his two brothers-in-law will team up. And Alexios is set to become a father- which is always great news. Yes, finally, the first year mark! They've found each other, and don't worry because (spoiler alert!) she's not dead in the other story! I just haven't finished that (and am reconsidering about that story- I like this one more).
I've been hinting at a ghost in previous chapters, and yes, there is a ghost. I'm not going to say whether it's a literal or figurative ghost or who it is, but it's there. Just not the way you think.
Things are about to get crazy for the families. Unfortunately, if someone is not going to die, something has to happen to move the older characters along.
Why? Because the babies need to grow up and take centre stage. Will, Andrew and Selena are going to become the central characters soon, so there needs to be a time gap when they're mature enough to be in control. The main focus will shift from Helena, Liam, Eleanor, Cyrus and even Robert and Aglaia and her family, to the three children and the question on whether or not they'll be able to put things right.
Disclaimer: You don't need me to say it. It all belongs to E!
There will be killing till the score is paid.
"There are ghosts everywhere," Aglaia whispered.
Either that or she was going mad.
But the sugar rose was real enough. As was the bracelet.
And huge palaces and castles were a ghost's favourite haunt- yes, that was a pun.
Her crazy ex-boyfriend who was supposed to be dead seemed to be alive.
Veruca Popperwell, the former duchess of Essex, was on the run.
Her husband's deposed uncle was living in their palace, swilling down liquor by the gallons.
And there was something- or someone in the palace where they lived.
Great, just great.
But she put those aside for the children's first birthday.
The three of them had already spoken short words and were beginning to put those words together. They now ate small pieces of chicken and other meats when they were cut small enough, fish nuggets and jellies. They'd since been weaned and drank their milk from sippy cups and the occasional bottle. They were growing.
And now they were standing and walking more and more. That wasn't to say they wouldn't stumble and fall every now and then.
Aglaia had since learned that babies outgrew their clothes so fast, that it was more practical to have second-hand items or buy cheap things than expensive things which would have to be given away. She could easily give the triplets' things away or sell them and hand the money over to a charity. But it didn't solve the problem of the clothes budget she'd insisted on keeping. They no longer wore cloth diapers now that they were bigger and beginning to move a lot more (linen leaks, obviously).
Today they were wearing new clothes, their best so far. Selena was in an ivory velvet dress with an ivory satin blouse with a softly-pleated collar-frill around her neck, and matching cuffs. Aglaia and Eleanor had made the outfits themselves, Aglaia insisting on a classical look and a precise colour scheme. Will was wearing a pair of small trousers in dark blue, a slightly lighter blue shirt, and a velvet jacket. Andrew was in navy blue trousers, shirt with a midnight blue jacket. No paparazzi. The parents' best interest was guarding the children's privacy as well as their safety, until they were ready.
The babies were photographed. They'd been showered with gifts- such lavish gifts that their mother worried that they would grow up expectant and spoiled. But she would make sure they would not. Besides the only reason they slept in three different nurseries was because if one of them cried, it would not wake the other three.
The photographer clicked- no flashes allowed. The babies cooed, happy today, giggled and grinned. Their parents were with them, but their various relatives were not pictured.
Aglaia knew the image of the royal family was all but destroyed. People may smile and cheer, wave their flags and so forth when the royals stepped out onto the balcony, but ever since Helena's affair was made public, her twins- whose lives were filled with wild parties and scandals already- had their paternity doubted. That was a scandal. Cyrus had taken advantage of the situation and was crowned king- before being deposed. Now Veruca, recently remarried to the former king, was said to have prostituted her (dopey) daughters to foreign princes, so they would gain their thrones. The royals of Europe were far from impressed or pleased in any way. She was dishonoured, stripped of her title, kept under house arrest and then escaped only to be on the run.
These children- whether their mother liked it or not- were the future of the monarchy and their greatest hope.
Will grabbed onto a table and toddled towards a ball. He picked it up, grinning and offered it to his father, who smiled as he took it as a suggestion to play. Will chuckled, prompting Andrew to half-crawl, half-toddle furiously towards them to join in the fun. Selena wouldn't be left behind either. They all wanted to play and the photographer had wonderful pictures to distribute to the public one it was done, of the joyful happy family. Not at their palace, not at a royal residence but at a beach, with a rented bungalow.
They were happiest there.
Aglaia met Robert's eyes and both of them thought the same thing:
If only it could last…
But the next day they were heading for Edinburg, and then back to London and the palace which symbolised debauchery, scandal, intrigue, murder and all things you would kill or die to keep your children from.
Once the photographer had gone, Robert looked at her. "Christmas is coming soon." He smiled.
She smiled in turn, remembering the babies' first Christmas. Robert had been… Apprehensive to say the least when he heard that they would be celebrating Christmas on their own- again. They all had been. But who was it that taught them to cook the Turkey and heat up the Figgy pudding (which was drenched in booze, seriously, Aglaia considered herself British as well as Greek, but she could never get used to that dish). But they loved that Christmas and Robert said openly he wished they had had more Christmases like that when his father was alive. Everyone looked wistful and misty-eyed. Aglaia had only met the late King Simon once when she was a young girl, but she understood.
"Let's have us and the babies for the Christmas broadcast." He suggested. That was Aglaia's mind from the beginning. It was just what she wanted.
"Just us. No king, no queen, no princes and princesses- just us- as a family."
He agreed.
Edinburgh, Scotland…
"I feel so free and less pressured when I'm here," Aglaia confessed.
"Same," Liam admitted. "Here, we can really let our hair down, without the crowd watching." He inwardly cursed himself. That came out wrong.
"It's winter soon," Aglaia sighed. "We don't get much snow in Athens or Crete, but up north…" She sighed.
Liam looked at her. "You're homesick," he realised.
Aglaia shook her head. "I'm British now, as well as Greek." She replied. "This is my home."
Was she saying that out of duty? Liam wondered. Or did she say that for so long that she managed to convince herself of that? Or was she trying to?
Or- Liam was interrupted from his thoughts when Aglaia turned and smiled at him. "At some point, all birds have to leave the nest," she said, coming closer to him. Liam could feel the faint, but deliciously appealing warmth of her skin, the intoxicating perfume: was that gillyflower? Mixed in with a bit of myrtle or harebell, a flower associated with Scotland, like thistles? Whatever it was, she smelled…
Wonderful. Intoxicating. Enchanting. Appealing. Liam had over a million ways to describe any part of Aglaia and it was not enough. She was so close, he wondered if she could hear his heart beating- no, scratch that- hammering. Pounding like a drum. She was wearing a white blouse with a dark red-and-green Scottish earasaid and brooch. She made that look elegant and appealing. Stylish and fashionable without even trying to keep up with anyone.
Was it any wonder? She was the most beautiful woman in the world. Liam couldn't deny that. But what made her even more beautiful, what put her above the other women he had ever known in his life, was that unlike them, she didn't want to be beautiful. She didn't try, or even put on a show. She didn't wear layers of makeup- unlike Mum who would never dream of going out there without being dressed to the nines, hair styled and expertly made-up. Len too, even during her wild days, would always make a point with her appearance, to try and make herself look as sexy as possible- the shortest skirts, the tightest trousers and low-cut tops, the smokiest eye-makeup and juiciest-looking lip gloss. Ophelia, when he remembered her, also felt pressured- she felt a need to put herself out there, to be 'one of them', even though she really didn't want it. And was that a surprise? She tried to dress like Len or his mother, put an effort into wearing fascinators whenever there was an event, or struggled to find an evening dress. Gemma was a diamond heiress, she was naturally entitled to Prada and Gucci, Burberry and Versace. Layers and layers of makeup, kilos of jewellery and Liam suspected that she had plastic surgery- she certainly had a makeup artist come in every day. Even Kathryn was jittery and nervous, always making up just to go to work, in case she looked bad. And he couldn't even get started on Penelope and Maribel.
Yet here was a woman, Aglaia who was regarded as a fashion icon, but was currently not wearing much- if any- makeup. And that, in Liam's eyes, not only was refreshing, but beautiful in a pure, uncorrupted way. And she was, he realised, pure and untouched. She was possibly the purest, kindest and most compassionate and honest person he had ever come across. Everyone always had an agenda. Gemma wanted his status and fame, as the future king, for one. Ophelia tried to like him, but realised she didn't want him in the end- and her dad took advantage of her relationship with him- or hated him. Kathryn chose Robert- only for things to fall apart.
Why was he thinking about this now?
Liam mentally tried to clear his thoughts. This can't be like last time! She wasn't-
"Liam?" Aglaia's clear, melodious voice broke through his thoughts. He forgot what he had been thinking. His heart skipped several beats and started again. "Are you alright?"
"I-" Liam found he could barely speak. "I'm fine." He managed.
Except that he felt all flushed and tingled warm all over, when it was a windy autumn day.
Aglaia's brow furrowed. "Are you sure? Do you want me to-"
"No, no, I'm fine." Liam said, hastily. A little too quickly. "Really," he tried to step back. "I'm fine." Liam instead found himself rooted to the ground.
Aglaia looked worried. Her clear, brilliant green eyes gazed calmly, soothingly, but still concerned, at him. He was beginning to cool down, soothed because of her mere presence when-
Aglaia touched his forehead. Liam stiffened in alarm. Her skin felt… Silky. Warm yet cool, burrowing into his skin.
"You don't feel fine," she said, worriedly. "Your temperature… It's burning."
Liam struggled to speak. Did he feel fine?
"We should go back," Aglaia decided immediately. She took his arm, and Liam's heart nearly flew out of his chest. She steered him straight into the direction of Holyrood Palace, the royals' primary Scottish residence.
She felt warm, the tartan suddenly soft, burrowing into him. Her grip was gentle, but firm. Liam looked down at her, her black hair tickling her cheek, her brilliant green eyes, her delicate profile, the perpetually serene, calm and soothing look upon that beautiful face, her smooth cheeks flushed with cold…
His heart hammered. He couldn't help it. He was in love.
With his brother's wife.
Robert poured a glass of strong Scotch whiskey.
"What's gotten you so disturbed?" A drawling voice appeared.
Robert suppressed a groan and turned to face his pinched and sallow-faced uncle. His eyes bleary with drink.
"Uncle," he tried to look welcoming. Cyrus only smirked. "Don't bother. I know how you really feel."
"Do you?" He asked.
"Where's that lovely wife of yours?" He asked.
"Out, why?"
"Oh, really? Where?"
"In the grounds."
"With whom? Just the security?"
"No," Robert said. He fell silent. He didn't want to say it, but his uncle said: "With Liam?"
Robert had nothing to say. Cyrus took the bottle and poured the whiskey in a spare glass. "Your wife's relatives have got me drinking that- what do you call it? Oh yes, Ouzo. Tasty stuff, that. Strong too. Helps me drown in my sorrows, I wonder if you're doing the same."
Robert raised an eyebrow. "What do I have to be miserable for?"
"Oh, nothing." Cyrus shrugged, nonchalantly. "You're the king of the greatest nation on earth- though your in-laws will say differently. You've won the hand, and the heart the world's most beautiful woman, and have three stunning children with her: two strapping, healthy boys and a girl whose beauty will someday equal her mother's. You've isolated your rival for the throne and kept me isolated. I'm vulnerable. And I'm a hanger-on." He took another drink.
"On the other hand, you're asking yourself, how long will it last?" Cyrus looked at him, peering above the glass as he drank. "How long before everything spoils it? You've seen it with Pryce and Metaxas, when they tried to do away your brothers-in-law, and nearly forced you and the love of your life to divorce. You had everything and you nearly lost it. The next time something like that happens again, well-" Cyrus' smirk widened. "I wish you all the best. You'll need it. Unfortunately for you, it's part of the parcel of being king. Your dad, Good King Simon had it, I had it, the Villainous Uncle, and then you: The Chosen One, the Once and Future King- whatever you call yourself," he slurred as he took another drink. Deciding to ditch the glass, he picked up the whole bottle. "I mean," he stumbled across his words. "It's bad enough I see your own brother ogling over you lovely bride just before your wedding- not that that's changed much since. But we all know Liam is ruled by his hot-blood, hot-head, hard cock, lack of direction and discretion, and the winds of his emotions- and that includes his feelings." Cyrus shrugged. "Including that for your wife."
Robert's hand tightened around the glass. "You know nothing."
"Do I?" Cyrus chuckled. "How long have I lived in that damned palace, boy? How long did it take us both to become addicted- no wait, that's all of us. I know your mother hated keeping a façade, in the beginning, she wanted to marry for love. Unfortunately for her, being one of the day's greatest beauties, made your loathsome pimp of a granny parade her under the royal family's noses, in the hopes that your dad would pick her. She wasn't happy to find out that Dominique Stewart had won it instead. But she was happy, wasn't she, when she had Alistair Stewart. But make no mistake. Once that crown was on her head, she shone in the spotlight. She couldn't bear it otherwise. She fought for her crown, just as I did. She couldn't survive without being the queen. And then there's Liam. The younger, party-boy brother. He didn't like the press intruding, neither did his twin. They hated the royal life, they hated the rules, but they couldn't get away. So, they became addicted. She flaunted her royal beaver in some nightclub, in front of the cameras, Liam ended up across the Atlantic with a couple of bottle-end w***es, photographed drunk and wasted in the early hours of the morning. They hated the press, they hated the attention, but they became addicted. They became addicted to it all, couldn't get away from the limelight. And then you died." He took a swig from the bottle. "And Liam became first-in-line. At first, believe me, he only wanted to please dear old Daddy and honour big brother's memory. But then, when Mummy, Daddy, the press and the public started paying him more and more attention, and giving him praise…" Cyrus laughed bitterly. "How well did your little brother take to your coronation?"
Robert was silent. He hated it. He hated that he had nothing to say at all. But Cyrus was right. It was addictive. Every last bit of it.
"And now you have not only the wife people would die and kill for, but three little children, pure, innocent, sweet babies to be brought into this world of debauchery, corruption and who-knows-what. Did you even know this when you heard your dad wanted to abolish the monarchy? Did you ever think-" Cyrus drunkenly waved a careless hand. "That you might be better off without all this? Just you, your wife and kids? Some house by the sea?"
"You're one to talk," Robert said evenly. "You fought like the devil to get parliament to vote against the referendum." He had kept up-to-date with the news.
"Because I had nothing else." Cyrus smiled bitterly. "That's the price I had to pay. And in the end, the throne didn't even stay with me."
"Well, perhaps you could try to build yourself a life outside palace walls," Robert suggested, calmly.
"If only- once you're in, it's too late." Cyrus took another gulp. "You can never get out." He took another bottle, and a third and headed back to his suite. "He's still looking at her, you know." Cyrus called back without looking.
"Who?" Robert found himself asking, although he knew the answer.
"Liam." As he walked away, Robert heard a smashing sound. He looked down and saw that the glass he held was now in pieces.
Aglaia took out the pins securing her hair. He luxuriant, thick, silky locks fell in a cascade around her shoulders. Robert stood in the doorway. She saw him in the mirror.
He stepped forwards and gently took out the rest of the pins. Aglaia leaned back against his warm touch.
He bent and kissed the exposed skin of her neck. She sighed and leaned back further, caressing his hair. He kissed his way down to her shoulders, slipping the clothes off.
But something bothered Robert and he couldn't shake it off. Something was bothering Aglaia too. So, despite the mad passion they displayed that night- in fact it was probably because of that they were even more passionate than usual- it irked them both.
Afterwards, they lay in bed, staring in silence at the ceiling. Neither of them spoke a word.
It was Robert who eventually broke the silence. "You've met with your brother." It was not a question.
"Yes," that was Aglaia's reply. "I wasn't expecting him to be at the Isle of Wight, especially as Artemisia's pregnancy is progressing. But I suppose it was alright."
"That's good news," Robert stated. He paused. He had no idea how to bring this up with her.
"How was your walk with Liam."
"It was fine, but I was concerned for him after a while."
Robert turned his head to look at her. "Concerned? Why?"
"I thought he might've had a fever- or at least a cold." Aglaia admitted with a shrug. "He was burning up. But not drastically, I realised that."
Robert paused. "So… He isn't sick?"
"No." Aglaia said with relief, unaware of her husband's growing… What? What was it? Paranoia? Unease?
She pulled herself upright, wrapped only with the sheets. Her back was turned, so she didn't see Robert's face which was like stone.
Liam… Burning with passion… Was it possible?
But then, he did remember seeing Liam with Aglaia shortly before the wedding. Talking, just talking. And then again, at the pre-wedding gala. He knew how much his younger siblings admired her. So he said nothing. But the way Liam gazed at her…
No. Not her, never her. Aglaia was his true love, the love of his life. His soulmate, not Liam's. his hand clenched into a fist. Why couldn't Liam stay content with bloody Kathryn? Or Pryce's daughter? Why Aglaia, why his wife?
Robert wanted to shout and howl with frustration.
Their previous rounds of sex weren't enough to calm him. He tossed aside the covers, pulled on his clothes, blood boiling all the while.
Could Alexios be right? Could Cyrus? Cyrus was one of the least-trustworthy people on the planet, but Alexios…
Alexios needed him to stay alive to keep his sister and their children safe and their positions secure. And if Alexios had said something like this…
'My parents knew,' he'd warned Robert right before the triplets' birthday celebrations. 'Or at least they'd suspected. Dimitri knows and while it was… Amusing to him at first, it stopped being that funny after some time.'
Robert had never found it hilarious. He didn't know what the hell was so funny about all this. Liam in love with Aglaia? Dimitri had a bizarre sense of humour, but Robert did suspect the second brother was somewhat psychotic. Besides, if half the stories they said about him was true, Dimitri enjoyed the torment of people he did not like.
The thought of Liam… He trusted Aglaia, but something in Cyrus' words, no matter how untrustworthy, rang true. Dimitri had said the same thing. And if Alexios and his shifty younger brother had spotted it along with their parents…
Aglaia was an innocent. A beautiful, sweet innocent. She wasn't stupid, but he knew she had no idea.
But Liam… Liam was persuasive. Charming when he wanted to be. He certainly knew how to get what he wanted, Robert thought bitterly. He always had, ever since they were little. Whilst Robert was cooped up indoors studying political science, sociology, the workings of the House of Commons and the House of Lords in parliament, Liam and Eleanor had wheedled the staff for cuttings of pastries and hot buttery rolls, chocolates to sneak into their pockets without anyone noticing, filching cream or cheese from the dairies in Holyrood Palace grounds. They certainly managed to get Duchie to hand diamonds like cups of water on a hot day, get huge allowances and free passes to go for expensive trips to who-knows-where? Milan? Paris or Monaco? Versace or Prada? Giorgio Armani?
Robert had had enough.
"Enter," he called out.
"Sir?" A dark-haired man with coffee-toned skin and an elegant, tailored suit appeared.
"Yes, come in, please." Robert said, standing up. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Please."
He sat. "Mr. Jeffries, the last time I saw you, you were a member of my younger brother's security detail," he said conversationally as he poured whiskey into two glasses. "I hear Liam was quite fond of you."
Marcus Jeffries sighed. "He was a good friend."
"Then why did you transfer?" Robert asked. "After my father's death."
Marcus shrugged despondently. "Not by choice. I was reassigned after His Late Majesty's death."
"To the new king?" Robert raised an eyebrow. He passed the whiskey to Marcus. "And what was he like?"
"His Royal Highness has a sense of… Flair and fashion," Marcus said carefully.
"No need to bat the butterfly," Robert said, sitting down. "I know what my uncle's like. But what do you think Liam is like?"
Marcus blinked. "Sir?"
"You've been a part of his security detail for six years prior to my father's death," Robert said calmly, looking him in the eye. "And this is a delicate subject, but he was… Affiliated with Ophelia Pryce?"
Marcus froze. "Sir?" He choked.
"Ophelia Pryce, how did he get to be with her?"
Marcus swallowed. "I suppose… Well, it was a case of one thing led to another."
"That's normally the case with Liam's girlfriends," Robert sighed. "But was he serious?"
"With her? I believe he wanted to be, he simply- forgive me sir, I don't mean to seem too forward."
"No, it's quite alright." Robert assured him. "Please continue."
Marcus paused, taking his time, and biding his words. "He simply did not know how to proceed and maintain the relationship. And I do not believe Ophelia was truly ready for the realities of royal life, sir."
Robert nodded. "But he did go after her?" He asked him.
"Yes, sir." Marcus confessed. "He went to America, from what I've heard."
"To see her?"
"She went to a dance academy in New York," Marcus explained. "And Prince Liam went after her… Only to find that she had moved on. She was seeing someone else."
Robert nodded, in silence. To his surprise, he had some pity for his brother- well, it wasn't really surprising. Liam was his brother. He felt terrible for him, after all. Liam didn't seem to be lucky in love.
Robert knew that as a royal, love was going to be exceptionally difficult for them. Who could resist the status? The glitter and glamour? But how many people saw them for themselves and not as some archetypal Prince Charming? And how many of them could withstand the harsh realities of life in a crazy goldfish bowl, with danger, intrigue and scandal around every corner?
"What about his ex-girlfriend, the one he'd been dating before?" Robert asked. "The diamond heiress?"
"She hung around for some time," Marcus admitted. "It wasn't uncommon to see her in and around the palace."
"So why is she no longer here?" He asked.
"She… Well," Marcus struggled to find the words. "After your uncle's accusations, the fake paternity test and his coronation…" He trailed off.
Robert absorbed this in silence. His poor, damned brother. Liam. Did he ever learn? The title, the looks, the fame and the money were magnets. And they attracted all the wrong people.
Robert heaved a sigh as he gazed at the fireplace.
"I'm growing concerned," he began.
"Over the prince, your majesty?"
"Yes. Liam knows you had no hand in your reassignment. And you are, to be frank, one of our best." Robert stated. He looked Marcus in the eye. "That's nothing short of the truth."
Marcus nodded his head, respectfully. "But tell me," Robert said very carefully. "Does Liam tend to think before he acts? Especially in regards with, well, his emotions? Love, for instance?"
Marcus winced. "Not… So much sir." He confessed.
"So," Robert said calmly. "Was my mother pleased when she learnt of his relationship with Ophelia Pryce?"
Marcus paused. His silence was enough.
"I see. But Liam went for it, anyway."
"Yes, sir."
The king was silent. Liam and Len made it their mission, ever since they were young, to break every rule in the book. He was a fool to think his younger brother would ever hesitate when it came to love.
"Has it ever landed him into trouble?"
Marcus was stunned. "Sir?"
"You've known my brother for six years prior to my disappearance, and you kept protecting him ever since." Robert said, plainly. "You've seen him when he was first-in-line for the throne. You've watched him grow into the role, pursue other interests when he thought no one was looking. Tell me the truth: has my brother ever pursued love, knowing full well it could land him in serious trouble?"
Marcus swallowed again. His answer was barely audible, but Robert heard it clearly. "Yes, sir."
Everything was silent in the room, save for the crackling of the fire.
"So, he's pushed his limits," Robert said, his eyes back on the flames. "He's done it before. Do you think he will ever do it to a married woman?"
Marcus stared. "Sir?" He managed.
He looked straight at Marcus again. "If you want out, now is your chance." Robert nodded. "I will never force neither you nor anyone into something you'd rather not be a part of. The question is, can you handle it?"
Marcus thought about it. Well, what hadn't he handled? He'd been there for wild parties, royal hook-ups and shags, gambling and booze to rival Vegas, widespread public mourning, stupid actions which he had no say over, including in advice. Heartbreak, tragedy, betrayal and back-stabbing, the royal family trying to rip each other to shreds behind the scenes, paparazzi attacks, riot mobs, crazy stunts pulled by desperate royals, murder, treason and regicide… You name it. Surely this couldn't get any crazier, right?
"I swore to protect the royal family, the monarch and his heirs," Marcus said evenly. "At all costs. Even my life."
Robert bowed his head. "You are assuredly one of the most noble people I have ever met," he said honestly. "But within our circle… Quite frankly, not everyone's like you."
"And I'm fully aware of that, sir." Marcus stated. He looked Robert in the eye. "And still, I won't shrink back from my duties."
Robert nodded. "Very well. Keep an eye on Liam. You'll be a member of his security detail. If you see him doing anything that may be… Inappropriate, no matter how trivial it seems, even if it is just your suspicions, report back to me. I am his brother. Not just his king. I need to know if he's going over his head with something that no one can easily pull out of if it turns out to be a mess- a very public mess, for instance. Especially if it involves anyone else."
"I will sir," Marcus nodded. "You have my word."
The babies were shooting up, Aglaia noted. They were toddling around now, and they rarely, Andrew most especially, liked being carried around. Aglaia's heart squeezed a little at the thought of that. She wanted to hold and cuddle them to her forever, and now she knew they couldn't wait and were eager to get out into the world. Well, Selena was the most content to be held, out of the three of them, but even she was eagerly stumbling around, chasing after her two brothers as Andrew squealed and tried to grab things, and Will explored, though he always kept in mind he had two others to look out for.
Aglaia had to smile. Whenever Andrew stumbled and was frustrated he would work his way into a tantrum, but Will would always be the first to give out a cry, alerting his mother, father or any of the nannies and relatives that his brother needed help. Or when Selena who was curious and quick to crawl or toddle on her feet had wandered a bit too far and he could no longer see her, Will would give a desperate cry and that was the only signal anyone needed.
Now that was adorable.
Andrew had a prickly temperament, that much was obvious. He was quite feisty and would wriggle and squirm out of anyone's grasp. He wasn't a whiny child, nor was he that bad-tempered, but he was quite forceful, and Aglaia had never known a baby to be so determined about anything. If he wanted something, and he didn't get it, he didn't throw a tantrum. He did everything he could to obtain it. Even if it meant wrestling the security team's sunglasses from them to gnaw. If he did get frustrated, which she suspected was normally due to his inability to be as agile as the adults around him, he would have a tantrum, but much to everyone's relief, it never lasted.
Selena was easily the sweetest-tempered and happiest of the three. The first to smile and coo with infinite love and adoration when her mother or father picked her up, or anyone else she knew and grew to recognise on sight. She seemed eager to open her heart and love just about anybody, she enjoyed being cuddled, and would look up to whoever was cuddling her, her green eyes sparkling, nuzzling them close, a happy, adoring smile on her face. She even smiled when she woke up in the mornings or from her nap.
The triplets were sixteen months old now, already beginning to babble words in a mixture of baby talk, English and Greek. Aglaia had also made a point in teaching them Scottish Gaelic and Welsh (Irish, Cornish and Manx may come afterwards), and they quickly soaked them up like a sponge. They were starting to jabber away to each other and everyone around them.
Soon they were old enough for their first official tour.
Aglaia had spent nights sewing and using her first-rate seamstress skills (which she had used as a princess of Greece, whenever her family members' evening gown, cocktail dress, suit or tuxedo needed tailoring, adjusting or embellishment), ambitious in the knowledge that her children were going to be the best-dressed, smartly groomed royal children, but with the most appropriate modesty. They were not spending countless millions or even thousands on the children's outfits, she declared. She'd had Len's help, and they spent their time sketching and colouring, discarding ideas, stitching, embroidering, tailoring, patterning- you name it. Aglaia had already taken the children's measurements. But unlike famous celebrities, the queen consort of the United Kingdom and princess of Greece could not afford to dress so outstandingly lavishly. Most of the brands Aglaia herself wore were British or Greek. Or else she wore something she made herself. And not for expensive prices. It was hard trying to please everyone with your wardrobe. What a royal wore was always symbolic. When the queen of the Netherlands went to a Muslim country, she wore a headscarf, thus signalling her disagreement with her country's right-wing extremists. As a constitutional monarch, they weren't supposed to say anything about politics and politicians (they didn't even have the right to vote), but nobody said they couldn't convey it through fashion!
So, there was pressure to appear impeccable and striking at the very least. But there was also the criticism if you spent too much money. Anti-monarchists (whose numbers have plummeted, ever since their wedding and Robert's ascension), would eagerly leap at the opportunity to criticise them, and the monarchy was unstable and in desperate need of popular support.
Which was why Aglaia was going hard-out on this trip. They needed support. Who knows what would happen to them without it?
"Are you sure you'll be fine?" She asked Len and Jasper. "Here in the palace?" She tucked in Will's shirt into his new shorts.
"Yes, go ahead, seriously, we'll be fine." Len said.
Aglaia studied Will's whole ensemble. She sighed, then transferred her attentions onto the next child who wore darker colours. Andrew squirmed, but a warning look from his mother meant that he quieted… For now.
"We need to go on this trip," she muttered. "We need people on our side."
Eleanor and Jasper exchanged glances. Aglaia's brow was furrowed with worry. "Nothing is stable nor secure here. Plus, my brother's wife has given birth to twins and I have to be there for the Christening, I'm godmother after all."
Their Royal Highness Prince Aristides-Achileos and Princess Tatiana-Cyrena had been born. A pair of twins. Aglaia prayed desperately that their conception had been guaranteed without the effects of any medication and her mother's interference. She shuddered just thinking about it. But triplets for her and twins for her brother? No, she would not think about it.
Aglaia sighed and stood. "Well, we'll see you in a month-and-a-half," she said regretfully. "Good grief, that's long."
"Time flies." Len kissed her on both cheeks. She then scooped up each of the babies one by one, kissing each of their chubby cheeks.
"Good luck."
"And look, the royal babies- aww, they are so adorable!" The female newsreader squealed. "And look- oh my goodness, the queen really looks absolutely stunning without even meaning to! Aren't they the world's most gorgeous family?"
"They are indeed, Elsie, they are indeed." Her colleague agreed. The screen showed a good view of the king, the queen, the prince of Wales, his younger brother and the Princess Royal, waving. Or rather, the royal couple were waving, it took a while for the children to wave too.
"The king and queen in the Belgian capital, Brussels, being greeted by dignitaries, and arriving at the royal palace, to be greeted by Their Majesties, the king and queen of Belgium. What a fortnight, it's been.
"Yes, so far, the immediate royal family has visited three countries, including Poland, France and Spain. The trip also coincides with the Christenings of Prince Aristides-Achileos and Princess Tatiana-Cyrena of Greece, the queen's nephew and niece, the second and third in line in Greece's line of succession. The children are extraordinarily well-behaved, the royal family has made Britain proud."
"Yes, I for one, am truly proud to be British. These are the future of Britain, they are the great hope of the monarchy, the king, queen, princes and princess. And we are all holding our breaths waiting to see what these little boys and girl will grow up to be." The television went on.
Aglaia was reading the papers for tomorrows schedule and Robert diligently checked up on everything which was going on back in London. To tell the truth, he would be much more at ease if a bomb blew up the whole palace while they weren't there, rather than whatever intrigues Cyrus might be planning. As for his siblings… He didn't want to know.
That was why Robert had set eyes and ears everywhere. Every millimetre of the palace was under close surveillance by the ones he trusted.
"Yes, thank you," Aglaia was now thanking someone on the phone. Robert read through all the state papers that had been sent to him- online.
And he would be certain that no one was planning anything whilst he was around. But could he trust his own mother and siblings for such monumental tasks?
And where the hell was Veruca Popperwell?
Over a year since she was last seen, the former duchess of Essex and the disgraced and dishonoured wife of the deposed king was nowhere to be found. And that troubled him.
Not least of which was because Veruca had a vendetta against Aglaia, his own wife.
Robert strongly suspected that Veruca was in Swaziland, but unfortunately, he had absolutely no way of proving that. He couldn't just demand that the Swazi king turn her over.
A year passed. The children turned two. Then three. Then four, five and six. They started nursery school (or kindergarten, whatever people called it), pre-school before enrolling for primary when they were six. Both parents always made an effort to be there for them. Who made them breakfast? Mum. Who packed their lunches? Mum or dad. Who helped them with their homework, even if it meant taking time off important duties and paperwork, who had been there for bath time, and tucked them into bed? That's right, Mum and Dad.
Currently, the children were doing their homework. They were in their sitting room, which was also their father's office. Their mother sat nearby, watching each of them, carefully monitoring their progress and helping them whenever they asked for it.
Andrew had coloured in pictures of blocks and drew lines to connect shapes of varying amounts to their respective numbers, mixed and scrambled on the other side of the page. He had gotten three leaves from the garden for science, and had begun drawing them carefully with his mother's help.
Will was doing his English homework, first identifying vowels in sentences, then connecting illustrations of animals with the letter they began with. Selena's homework was drawing a plant from the garden. After that was done, she needed to read one page from a storybook. Aglaia watched them, smiling contentedly.
Help them learn through play, her parents had said. If they felt like they wanted to learn, then that was what they should do. For certain hours of the day, the triplets were outdoors, and were not allowed any toys with them. Len joked that they were in 'kid heaven', and they were encouraged to invent their own games- or play them with their parents. For example, there were competitions as to who could find three sticks, four different leaves and five different flowers altogether. How many did they all add up to? Who finished first? How many times can they spin? Who could climb the highest, who could find the little prizes their mum, dad and the staff had cleverly hidden by connecting clues, like the tree with only four branches?
If they won, after a day of racing around excitedly, they all received a prize. Their classmates were invited, even encouraged to come as well.
The little cottage on palace grounds must have been used by royals in the past to have secret liaisons with their paramours. Aglaia hated it (predictable) and she shuddered at the thought of the children playing and spending their time at somewhere where their granny might've… You know. She had no doubt that Helena was still doing it- with her Lord Chamberlain. But she decided to look the other way, they all did.
So, the three of them helped with the renovating of a new cottage- which was a shed. It was something the family helped with and occasionally invited the rest of the family to come and help. It had everything from a small kitchen, to a miniature garden plot, where they tended plants and grew fruit and vegetables. Each of them had their own miniature wheelbarrow and set of gardening tools and gloves. The produce was carefully inspected by the gardeners and if good enough, their parents would pay the market rate for the one who had grown them. Sometimes, they would even get to cook their own meals and bake treats that would be served to staff and guests in the cottage. The children would always be supervised by their parents, and they were encouraged to make friends and bring them home for play, which they did, much to their parents' delight.
Will and Andrew's little friend Josh was there as well. He was also doing his homework and helped along by the royal couple. Aglaia thought the faces of his parents when their child had been invited for playdate, the first time, were priceless. Many of the parents were dressed up when they first came to school, pushing their own kids forward to be the first ones to say hello to the princes and princess. Tonight, Josh was having a sleepover here. Aglaia had done her best to make his parents comfortable in her presence, and Robert's, and who knows? Maybe the children would be lifelong friends. While the press did not know who the children's friends' names were, they did know they were making friends with children that were not the offspring of aristocrats, the heirs of billionaire magnates, and other royals (who lived far away). Or even celebrities.
The children would have to be bathed and put to bed soon, Aglaia reflected. The British never ceased to be amazed by this, she thought. The fact that they were having playdates and sleepovers with children from working or middle class, was it so extraordinary, especially nowadays? Apparently so. But as Aglaia looked over at Josh and saw him sorting cut-outs of coloured letters and using a glue-stick to paste them onto another sheet of paper. Will had gone to him and the two boys were eventually joined by Andrew while Selena decided she wanted to go cuddle daddy, sleepily toddling her way towards Robert's desk.
After a while, the boys began playing a game but Selena didn't want to join in. Aglaia tried to coax her to play, but she shook her head, snuggling even closer to her father. Robert shrugged, hugging her tight.
"Time for bed," Aglaia announced, once they'd played long enough. "Come on." The boys tried to protest, but Aglaia saw Selena had already fallen asleep. "Come on," Robert carried her gently, and took one of their hands. Aglaia took the others and they made their way to their rooms. Josh would be with Will. After that was done, Aglaia looked at Robert. He'd gone to Selena's room, no doubt. She knew Robert didn't love her any more than he did the boys, but he really doted upon her. She mouthed to him, I need to talk to you later.
He nodded.
Life was going well. But Aglaia knew the danger wasn't over yet.
In the tunnels, deep underground…
It was dank, and quite unfortunately, it was near the sewer system. But James Hill was firmly on the king's side, as was most of the others. This had been closed off due to the danger of crumbling blocks of stone and flooding where anyone inside would be trapped. But tonight, they needed to take the risk.
"I've waited long enough." Cyrus snapped.
"You gave up without a fight," his wife hissed.
"And what would you have done?" He snapped. "With the eye of both countries' intelligence agencies trained right on you? How did you even manage to escape?" He shook his head and decided to take a swig of gin. Veruca shoved the bottle down before it could reach his lips.
"For once, grow up and be a man," she hissed. "Listen to me- Britain can still be yours. Right now, their biggest asset is that Greek bitch. Once she's gone and we've removed her-"
"Remove her?" Cyrus snorted. "Like you can do that."
"- We could make the move. Maribel has had a boy. He could become a future king of Swaziland- an absolute monarchy without any of the constitution rubbish we're accustomed to in Britain." Veruca ignored him and drew even closer. She was wearing a classic hood drawn over her conspicuous soft curls which were red. "And then there's the Netherlands. They haven't quite forgiven us… So they've allied themselves with the Greeks… And they've all but disowned Prince Adrien and Penelope… Well, they'll take the throne soon enough."
"And you think you can go against the Greeks?" Cyrus snorted again. "You know, I was genuinely surprised you even made it this far. You must have had royal help."
"No, really?" Veruca drawled, sarcastically. It certainly wasn't from him.
"They have people searching for me worldwide."
"So how did you come back here? You're a fugitive."
"The Queen Mother of Swaziland has suffered a 'stroke'." Veruca hissed. "Someday, she will be dead. And my new ally- Shabangu's mother, has been elevated to fill in the gap in the administration of Swaziland- effectively making her the unofficial first lady of the nation! Which means that she will be Indlovukati someday!"
"She would be- what?" Cyrus blinked.
"It means, Great She-Elephant," Veruca said impatiently. "The title of the queen mothers of Swaziland."
"Well you can tell your massive elephant friend that I'm not interested-" before Cyrus could finish his sentence, Veruca slapped him.
Cyrus clutched his cheek. "Not again," he complained.
"Grow up," she hissed. "Be a man. Be a king or you'll forever be remembered as the king who stepped down like Baliol of Scotland- a coward and a fool! Or how about Henry VI, who slept for a year and a half-"
"While his shrew of a wife took the throne on behalf of their son," Cyrus said sardonically. "I know how history works, my dear."
"Do you?" Veruca sniffed. "At least Richard III put up a fight. You're what the Americans call a wimp. You did nothing. In fact- you are a wimp." She held up a newspaper.
It was American, alright. And he was a wimp. The royal wimp, they called him- on the front pages.
Cyrus gasped, melodramatically. "You know what they're saying about your amputation? And your one ball?"
Cyrus gasped again. Louder this time. "Listen closely," Veruca hissed. "The Greeks, MI6 and everyone else has their eyes trained on some other conflict which is brewing, but will soon boil over. This is our time. We've waited for six years. That's long enough."
"Wait- what's going to happen?" Cyrus stared.
Veruca smiled evilly. "You'll see."
The children were laughing, playing.
They were out again. There was soot or mud on the boys' faces which their mother would have to clean again.
"We're cooking in the cottage tonight." She smiled at Liam who was sitting beside her. "Do you want to come?"
"Uh, well, I don't think-" he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, nervously.
"Oh come on. Of course it's a good idea." Aglaia said, surprised. Andrew was scooping handfuls of dirt and piling them up with Selena onto a pile.
"I wish we could have been like this," Liam said wistfully, indicating the children. Selena was shrieking with laughter now. Will had taken to chasing her with a muddy stick, threatening to rub it all over her. "No photoshoots. No gala where we were dressed up and meant to be seen and not heard. No balls or wild parties."
Aglaia smiled sadly. "If only it were."
"My dad would've loved you," Liam said quietly. "He would've loved to join in, play in the mud, help them grow vegetables and other things."
"I only met your father once." Aglaia murmured. She looked sad, but then smiled. "I was a little girl and he was on a state visit to Greece. I remembered bobbing a curtsy, and then actually being hugged tightly by him. He was very kind, very attentive. A great king, I thought. He even snuck me a little vanilla-flavoured wafer when no one was looking." She laughed quietly. "He was so wonderful. He reminded me of my own father."
More than you ever know, she thought. Like her father, King Simon had to put up with a stylish, elegant queen with the personality of a powerhouse and a talent for being in control. Unlike him, however, King Simon's marriage clearly wasn't as happy.
Liam looked at her. "You're an amazing woman," he said softly. "A perfect wife, mother, and the greatest queen and friend than anyone could ever deserve." His light blue eyes softened, as he gazed upon her.
Aglaia gave a smile. "Thank you," she said, meeting his gaze. Not really understanding it, but… She felt safe with this man. He was honourable, good and great. And he'd been through a lot.
She touched his hand, which rested upon his leg. Liam nearly jolted when he felt the intoxicating warmth, yet soothing coolness of her skin.
Intoxicating was the best way to describe it. She smelt of a delicate blend of roses and violets that day. And she was so close, so near to him. He could feel her warmth, her kindness, her gentleness…
She kissed him on the cheek. It burned where her lips touched his face and he felt it searing deep down and his heart stopped… Then started pumping faster.
Liam couldn't tear his gaze from her. He was sure his heart was going crazy.
Nearby Marcus Jeffries' eyes widened.
Aglaia rose and clapped her hands together, catching the children's attention. They all ran excitedly to her. She bent down and they all swooped into her arms.
Liam never once took his eyes off her. The look in them…
Marcus gulped. The king was not going to be pleased.
"Enter." Robert called out.
"Y- your majesty." Robert straightened in his chair. He put away the last piece of paperwork he had signed. "Yes?"
Marcus opened and closed his mouth. He had no idea where and how to begin.
Robert looked at the various cabinet ministers in the room. Thank God, the prime minister had left half-an-hour early today. "I must apologise, ladies and gentlemen, I do hope you'll forgive me, but there appears to be something urgent. Perhaps we shall continue tomorrow?"
The respective members nodded and murmured their assent, bowing or bobbing a curtsy on the way out.
Once the last of them had left, Robert waited until their footsteps had receded.
"Mr. Jeffries, if you will, please make sure there is no one left in the hallway."
Marcus nodded and cast a glance outside. There was no one. He checked up and down.
"No one, sir." Robert nodded. "Thank you, if you will perhaps, close the door and lock it, we can't afford to be disturbed."
Marcus nodded again. He did as he was told. Once the locks had clicked in place, Robert gestured to the sofa near the fireplace, which was not lit.
"Has something happened with Liam? Or is it a suspicion this time?"
Marcus took the sofa opposite the king. He winced. "Your majesty… The queen and Prince Liam were out in the grounds near the forest with Their Royal Highnesses, the princes William and Andrew and Princess Selena. The children were playing and the queen and Prince Liam were sitting together nearby and talking." Robert froze.
"Go on," he encouraged.
Marcus hesitated. He broke out into a cold sweat. He had never, in all his years as a member of the royal security, ever had to undergo this. Nor had he felt this way. How on earth was he supposed to tell the king that his younger brother was in love with his own wife? Because Marcus was sure now, that Prince Liam (damn it, why did he make him do this?) was in love with the queen.
Marcus swallowed again. "They were talking quietly. It wasn't much and didn't look like much. The queen acted like her usual self. Prince Liam was quiet, but it's likely he didn't want to disturb the children playing nearby. They looked wistful whilst talking, and the queen looked concerned- then she touched the prince's hand." Robert was very, very still.
"Go on," he found himself saying. Again.
"The prince… Well, he… He was flushed. He swallowed perhaps, or maybe it was my imagination…" Marcus cursed himself for acting all flustered. This was totally unprofessional. Well, the king did ask him to keep an eye out for his younger brother.
"She kissed him." He blurted. Robert's eyes widened and he started. "No, not on the lips, your majesty. On the cheek. But the way he looked at her… She didn't even see, and I don't know if he knows or-" Marcus stopped himself. "But I think…" He paled and hesitated. "That Prince Liam…" He didn't finish the sentence.
Robert tried to absorb this in silence. He turned to face the mantelpiece. Inside he was reeling- to say the least. It was as if his whole world was…
Shaking. Chaotically. Catastrophically. About to turn itself over or break.
No.
Alexios was right.
But how could he?!
After all these years, he finally knew.
"He's in love with her?" Robert's voice sounded distant and foreign to his own ears as he spoke.
"Sir, I can't be sure-"
"You must be," Robert turned on him suddenly. "You must know how he feels."
Marcus bit his lip. He wished he'd never consented to this. But the king had been asking him to look out for his younger brother and to stop him from doing anything that may result in a catastrophe, by warning him. And as a member of the security team, he was answerable to the king.
"I think," his voice was raspy and dry. "That he is."
"Why?" Robert whispered hoarsely. "Why? Why her? Why my wife? Why my brother? Why Aglaia?"
"Your majesty, nothing has happened," Marcus suddenly protested.
Robert looked at him again. "You know Liam," he said slowly. "Nothing will happen yet."
The door banged open. Aglaia startled by this sudden intrusion, looked behind her to see her husband, his face shadowed in darkness, but ultimately revealing something absolutely menacing as an expression.
"Explain." Was all he said.
Aglaia stared. "Robert?"
"Liam," he gritted his teeth. "Explain him." He spat.
Aglaia stared aghast. "W- what about him?" She asked, incredulously.
Robert made his way forwards in a single stride and grabbed her wrist. "Liam! What did he do?" He demanded in an instant, his eyes blazing. "Tell me!"
"What has gotten into you?" Aglaia gasped, wrenching her hand back.
"You were with him in the grounds near the forest!" He spat.
"So? I thought you knew that."
Robert smiled grimly. "I didn't know how he felt about you until recently." The door to their bedroom slammed shut.
Aglaia's jaw dropped. "What?!" She breathed. "Have you gone mad?"
Robert could laugh. He could seriously laugh, he felt like a madman, with the insanity of it all. Yes, he had never been easy when his wife was in the near vicinity of his brother! It's not like this was unwarranted for. He didn't give a whit about his ex, but Aglaia was his wife, his soulmate, the love of his life… Did he need to go on? But Liam had made it quite clear where he stood with Robert, and even though love and affection would always be there somewhere, there was the question on whether anything else would overtake it. Like love for instance. Or the throne. And honestly, Robert would prefer it if Liam was plotting the throne, scheming like a weasel, like Cyrus, or a shrewish bitch like Veruca. Instead Liam was blown about the winds of his emotions, and if he had to be honest with himself, it's not like he could help his emotions! After all, wasn't Robert the one who fell head over heels, madly and truly in love with this woman who had the most dazzling, mesmerising, breathtaking beauty, the most irresistibly delightful charm, genuineness, warmth and the most magnetic charisma anyone had ever had.
Robert did laugh. He laughed like a madman. He had been driven mad by all this. And he was mad. Incensed. Enraged. He grabbed the nearest thing to him- whatever it was- and threw it against the wall where it smashed.
Aglaia recoiled at what appeared to a sudden burst of insanity.
"My brother? Really?" He laughed, sardonically, turning towards her. "I mean, I know your family's always suspected that he's in love with you, but I've always denied it. Sounds like a total fool, doesn't it? The king's a fool. Did Liam have a good laugh about that one?"
She stared. "Are you crazy?!" She nearly shrieked.
"Well, perhaps I am!" Robert shouted back. He grabbed something else and threw it aside. His wife just stood there, gaping aghast at him.
"Your brother? Liam?!" He stared. "In case you don't remember, he is your brother. How on earth do you expect us to-" she spluttered.
"And do you think that'll stop him?" Robert hissed, drawing closer. "After what he's done? I've told you about him and Kathryn. I've told you how he acted when I came back, and you still-" he waved his hand carelessly. "Trust him?!"
"He's your brother." Aglaia repeated. "I don't think you know this," she hissed, recovering her nerve. "But a brother going after his own brother's wife, and his sister-in-law actually-" she stopped there. Liam had actually done something like this before. True, Robert hadn't been married to Kathryn Davies, but-
"But what?" Robert demanded. "Open those beautiful eyes of yours, Aglaia. He is in love with you. And he doesn't give a damn that we're married. He wants the throne. He wanted to be centre-stage. He wanted the limelight-"
"I am not going to listen to any of this," Aglaia bit out. "He is your brother. You are both brothers, and to listen over the two of you or only one fighting like cats or dogs over me or anyone and anything else is beneath you. All of you!" Her eyes flared. "You are the king. We are the royal family. And it's about time someone started acting like that within the palace."
Robert was about to say something back, but Aglaia whirled in her silk dressing gown or kimono and glided angrily away.
She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't believe that her husband didn't trust her. And Liam?! His own brother? Why on earth would he think such a thing?
It was beyond anger that she felt. But it was beyond rage which was plainly visible in Robert's eyes as he confronted her. Rage and jealousy. They'd always seek to solve their issues, and their fights as cleanly, thoroughly and quickly as possible, but this…
She wasn't sure if she could talk to him now. He was beyond reason and she was beyond pissed.
For someone who had been brought up and thrived within a close-knit, happy family, with little to no dysfunction between them, entering the world of the Henstridges was like entering alien territory. Yes, they'd been royals but the titles and status were as similar as her family had ever gotten to the Henstridges. Ever since the paternity scandal leaked out and King Simon had been murdered, there had been a general mistrust in dealing with anything or anyone associated with the Henstridges. Some fingers had pointed to Helena for her husband's murder. Others had pointed to Cyrus- who had not helped his own case when he seized the opportunity of the press attention to make an accusation and shove the woefully disastrous private family life of the Henstridge family out into the open, and the divisions within the apparently so-united family out in the public's eyes. Conspiracy theories buzzed. Was Liam a part of it? Did he do it? Did Eleanor?
When the paternity test was revealed to have been a fiasco, and rumours of corruption and bribery were evident, people started having doubts and many gave up hope on the Henstridge monarchy. That died with King Simon and Prince Robert as far as anyone was concerned. Aglaia had strived to repair the family's tarnished reputation, but the drama surrounding Robert's return hardly helped destroy the rumour mill and the excitement and whispers surrounding them. Nor did the drama during the last months and weeks of her pregnancy and the triplets' birth- and their Christening.
Had anyone felt so tired? She wondered. So weary?
Everything had been quiet for years since Veruca's disgrace and disappearance. And while she knew the press were partly right, in truth, unlike her family or any other royal house in Europe, where the stuff that surfaced on the tabloids was one-eighth or one-quarter true, and the rest were false, the British press had no idea of half the things that were going on inside the palace!
Aglaia had tried to fix it. She had tried to mend the broken and utterly destroyed family bonds that should have existed. Only for this.
Robert sighed. He sunk onto the bed and covered his face with his hands. Yes, he regretted that confrontation. He had been stupid, his blood boiling from the news, his feelings… Well, now he knew what Liam felt when he was blown about his own winds of emotion.
And yet I love her, he thought wistfully, despondently. More than I can imagine. And I love him. He's my brother.
He felt split down the middle. Torn. Utterly distraught half at the fact that someone else was in love with his wife and likely to try and win her heart, the other that he wanted to villainise his own brother so he could kill him.
What am I supposed to do? Robert asked himself.
How can I fix this?
Liam… He couldn't think about Liam now. He would boil over in a rage over his brother and that was what no one wanted.
He needed to fix this with Aglaia. Come clean. Beg her if he must.
So long as he had his family back.
Aglaia's babies were tucked in bed- toddler beds now, their mother wanted to keep them as babies but apparently, they had to grow.
And children grew fast. She understood how her parents felt.
She turned around and walked back into her bedroom. Robert's head flew up and he stood. Anguish, agony, shame, guilt and remorse were written all over his face.
Aglaia sighed. She looked up at him, pain expressed in those almond eyes, the clearest green clouded over by pain. Robert made a single stride towards her and touched her face gently, dark blue eyes piercing into the emerald.
He opened his mouth, the pain inside his eyes increased. How was he going to tell her, how was he going to say it all? Would she believe him?
Aglaia's eyes were sad, haunted and filled with infinite pain and sorrow. But she didn't pull away. He kissed her, and they held each other tight.