Chapter 7: Not Then, Not Now
Almost immediately upon his return to Kattleroot, as the sky was becoming tinged with orange and the sun was falling with the arrival of the afternoon, Arthur was swept up by the hasty arrival of Belle and (although with less hand flapping and breathless questions) a slower paced Antonio.
"What did you see? What was it like? I hear they have rose gardens - did you see the rose gardens?" Belle pounced on Arthur as soon as he was back inside the Warehouse and sitting with his friends up on one of the building's high ceiling rafters usually used for storing goods.
Arthur was dismissed from duty once the delivery had been deemed a success and Antonio, yet to actually ask whether there was any more work for him, had also taken his leave.
"It was...well, it was...different." Arthur, quite bewildered by Belle's eagerness, offered the most accurate answer he could think of.
"How so?" she was clearly unsatisfied with his offerings, "The people? The capital? Well, obviously it was much nicer than here. Everyone's rich in the capital, aren't they?"
"Yes and no."
"Yes and no?" Antonio cocked his head, speaking with real curiosity for the first time since Arthur's questioning had begun. "What does that mean?"
"Well, it's a lot fancier...and yes, the way of life there is certainly richer by a landslide - but there are poor there. I saw a few people who looked in as bad a state as some of us living here - worse even."
Belle and Antonio looked at each other in surprise and seemed to contemplate this concept further. Arthur too had been taken aback by how sorry some of the people in the capital had looked. The three were still children after all - they didn't yet have a full perspective of how far and how deep poverty could stretch its fingers.
"Maybe it's not such a different world," Antonio muttered more to himself than the others, "In some ways anyway."
"I'm not sure if I'd say that, I've never seen anything like it. The palace was...well, nothing like we can imagine living here," Arthur stared up at the cobwebs above their heads as he spoke, stomach knotted tightly.
Belle sighed and crossed her legs on the wooden, hay strewn floor of the rafter shelf.
"I wish I could have seen it. Oh gosh and the rose gardens - did you see them, Arthur? I'd love to see them."
Belle, who certainly seemed to have an unhealthy infatuation with the rose gardens at the palace, clasped a hand to her face excitedly. Arthur was still tracing the paths of pale tendrils over the ceiling, wondering how far they did stretch and reach.
His brain then turned instead to Alfred and his stomach gave a nervous lurch when he remembered what had passed between them. He recalled the things he had told him so carelessly and comfortably. He heard the sound of his laugh again.
He was pulled back into the present by Belle's prodding finger in his side.
"Arthur?"
"Um - no, I didn't see all that much apart from the palace itself - just the river and woods - but I see the same river every day past my back yard," Arthur remained distracted by what - or should he say who - he had really seen.
"Oh, but still, the palace must have been amazing," the young girl seemed to have escaped into daydreams.
"Actually," Arthur leaned in and beckoned his friends to do the same, "there was something else, but you can't utter a word of this to anybody, alright?"
"Why are you looking at me?" Belle poked a finger at herself indignantly.
"I know what you're like." Arthur continued to eye his friend pointedly, despite her prodding him in the ribs.
"What happened?" Antonio was gazing at Arthur curiously, his eagerness now approaching a similar level to Belle's.
Arthur was thankful they had taken the conversation up to the rafters where they wouldn't be heard. Technically, he could have told anybody of his encounter with Alfred, but he wasn't one to tempt fate. Something told him talking to the prince of Spades was certainly not in his job description - and considering what he'd spilled about his hunting, much better if nobody knew, especially nobody on Alfred's side. This was what worried him most. All he needed was for the boy to tell somebody of his 'new friend Arthur from Kattleroot who hunts in the forest and said he'll come back and teach him and yelled at him for falling out of a tree'. What's more, Arthur was sure friendships between princes and peasant delivery boys were highly discouraged. Tim, also, may be more than a little displeased with Arthur. All things considered? No one else could know.
"I sort of, well, I met the prince of Spades... by the river... by accident," Arthur waited for their reactions, a feeling of being dangled over the edge of something, either to be pulled back or let drop by their first words.
"Really?!" Belle was immediately bursting with excitement, "which one? Matthew?"
"Alfred," Arthur corrected, not at all reassured by her joy at his confession, "and please, Belle, not so loudly."
"Sorry," She added with a whisper, the grin not leaving her face, "oh, but was he terribly handsome? Like princes in books and fairytales and stuff?"
"Isn't Alfred only ten?" Antonio added, wrinkling his nose at Belle and smiling at Arthur in bewilderment.
"He can still be handsome!" Belle's spirit was not to be squashed.
"He was a little older I think, but yes, still young...so, um, I couldn't really say, Belle, sorry." Arthur felt a bit awkward being asked about how attractive the prince had been, feeling the two were somehow missing the point of what he was saying and the fact that the meeting worried rather than excited him. He glanced sideways at Antonio, also feeling awfully embarrassed that the person he always compared people to - boys anyway - in terms of looks was his best friend.
"So, how exactly did you end up meeting the prince?" Antonio steered the direction of the conversation, seeming perplexed as to how Arthur had managed to find the royal during the delivery job and completely oblivious to the flush on his friend's face.
Arthur explained.
"He fell out of a tree?" Belle smiled. "What I'd give for a prince to just fall out of a tree at my feet. Imagine - I could end up a queen!"
"I don't think princes usually marry peasant girls they meet by rivers, Belle." Antonio grinned at her, giving her a pat on the arm.
"I don't think they're meant to have anything to do with peasants the meet by rivers at all." Arthur looked a little concerned, wringing his hands.
"But did you actually talk to him?" Belle tried to reason.
Arthur thought for a moment. He could go ahead and tell them, but in truth he was worried about spilling all to Belle. She didn't hunt. Nor did she have such precarious job placements as Antonio and Arthur did; she was family and guaranteed the work - not that she needed it in the same way they did either. She thought getting involved with royalty was a good thing while Arthur knew it was extremely dangerous. He felt Antonio might understand this too.
"No," he formed the word slowly at first, catching Antonio's eye. "No, I didn't actually. He saw me and ran away. I only realised it was the prince when I was walking back with Clover."
Arthur tried to give Antonio a look which suggested there was more to it and he would discuss it with him later. He doubted whether he would pick it up though, being oblivious at the best of times.
"Then it was fine!" She threw up her hands and beamed.
Arthur attempted to return the smile, his weaker and more forced.
"I'm sure nothing bad will happen just for seeing him," Antonio joined in with the forcible reassurance scheme, confirming that the look had, in fact, sailed right over his head - with so many other things, Arthur couldn't help but think with some amount of wistfulness he couldn't place.
"Still, don't mention it to anyone." Arthur felt the need to repeat this necessity, "Especially not Tim."
"Why would Tim mind?" Belle, ever protective of her older brother, asked with a frown.
The two only gave her a pointed look in response.
"Alright, I get it," she sighed.
Arthur rubbed his forehead.
"Just keep it to yourselves, okay?"
As the three walked home through town from the Warehouse the sun glimmered teasingly close to setting, its last fading rays peeking over the treetops. Their paths split as Belle carried on to her home in the upper region of village and the boys continued down low to the cabin cottages.
"Will you two be at The Goose later?" Belle called after them as they went their separate ways, referring to the village tavern and inn where they spent much more time than they were encouraged to by Sophia. But the rules were slack and Antonio's brother Karlos' position as bartender meant getting hold of a drink wasn't very difficult for any them.
"No, not tonight," Arthur replied, "I'm spending some time at home - sort of a late birthday meal with the stuff I shot yesterday."
Mel had come back late from Market day and Arthur hadn't really had a chance to properly celebrate his birthday with her and his little brother.
"Well, if I don't have to help out at home I might be able to-"
"-He's busy too!" Arthur called out, cutting his friend off with a sharp elbow to the stomach.
"I am?" He whispered to Arthur in bemusement.
"You are."
The two waved Belle off and kept walking down the beaten path through the village, passing a few others on their way home from the fields or on their way to the inn.
"What's this about?" Antonio was oblivious as Arthur had predicted but allowed himself to be pulled forth by Arthur's grip on wrist without a struggle.
"The Prince - What really happened and why it's worrying me out of my bloody mind," Arthur couldn't keep a tone of irritation from his voice, not for Antonio, but his own state of mind and his idiotic actions at the palace earlier.
"Something else happened?" That same oblivious naivety, for a minute it reminded Arthur of how Alfred had spoken.
"Oh, Toni, wise up, of course something else happened," Arthur stopped walking to give his best friend a look, not letting go of his wrist, "and as much as I love Belle, I couldn't trust her to keep her mouth shut about it for a second."
Antonio frowned and then nodded at the shorter boy slowly and thoughtfully.
"Okay, so tell me."
So Arthur found himself explaining again.
"...And then, I called him a twit."
Antonio had to laugh long and hard at that despite understanding Arthur's stress. The strong, coarse sound echoed around the quiet space behind the cabin houses, filling it up for a moment in a bewildering way that only Antonio could manage.
"See Arthur, names can get you into trouble."
"Shut up, you fool."
"Alright, not the time, I know." Antonio composed himself as they approached the steps to Arthur's cottage. "Well okay... okay we just have to think about it properly, right?"
Arthur nodded slowly, not sure what he meant, "...Right."
"He didn't think anything was wrong with you being a hunter and he didn't get pissed when you were all sarcastic on him. Chances are you won't ever meet him again and when he was called he looked real panicky, so he probably knew he wasn't supposed to be talking to you. If that's true, he won't go telling anybody, right?"
Arthur listened to Antonio and was surprised to feel slightly better.
"...Right," He felt more conviction in his words this time.
"I don't think Tim will find out so your job is fine. Nothing will come of it, Arthur, don't get worried."
Arthur considered his words for a moment and finally sighed.
"Um, thanks, Toni." He shuffled sheepishly on the spot, looking at his scuffed leather boots.
"No problem," Toni grinned at him, ruffling a hand through his hair but leaving it there a little longer than usual - or was that only Arthur's useless imagination? "Who's the logical one now?"
"Sure," Arthur smiled dryly at his friend. "Uh, you want to stay for dinner? It's for my birthday after all...and you're stupid but you are my best friend, so I wouldn't mind having you around for a while."
Arthur had one hand on the door latch and wasn't looking at Antonio, instead focussing on the smoke rising from his home's chimney and the glow of light at the window.
Antonio knew Arthur valued his company. And Arthur knew he knew. He just wasn't good at actively telling him.
His friend's cheerful laugh broke through the silence.
"Lemme go tell ma I'll be late back."
Mel had immediately asked Arthur of his trip to the palace. Arthur's mouth drooped in surprise.
"Of course I knew," she'd tapped him on the head with her spoon, "I've known you were working at the Warehouse for a good while now, my boy - didn't think to say it because you treated it like such a secret."
"And you really aren't bothered about it?" Arthur had been uncertain as to her feelings on the knowledge.
She'd sighed and smiled at Arthur where he was sharing the one comfortable chair in the house with Antonio, Arthur practically perching on the arm due to the way his friend took up considerably more of the room.
"You're very good to me, Arthur... me and your brother both. I know why you're doing the work and I'm thankful to you for caring about us. You're a smart boy, have been from the start."
Arthur let himself appreciate the compliment; Mel didn't dish them out with careless abandon - even to Arthur, who was practically her son.
"-And you! Mr. Carriedo, I'm sure your mother would feel similarly in the end if you found enough courage to tell her!"
Antonio blanched and opened his mouth dumbly at the sudden suggestion, provoking an amused cackle out of Mel. The woman really was all-knowing.
Much to Arthur's surprise, Mel had made a cake for the occasion. It was fairly plain and not very large but more of a treat than he could have imagined.
As she sliced it up, Peter ran into the room, stumbling a few times on the threadbare rug.
"Toni!" He yelled gleefully, tugging on the brunette's trouser leg.
Now over two years of age, the young child was besotted with Arthur's friend whom he pretty much seemed to wish was his own brother.
"Hey there, pal!" Antonio grinned down at the boy, happy the kid could finally pronounce his name properly, "how've you been?"
"Hungry!" The child exclaimed unhappily.
"Well then, dear, you're in luck," Mel came over to the fire armed with four slices of cake on wooden plates.
She gave the smallest to Peter, who snatched it up greedily.
As Arthur and Antonio were handed theirs, Arthur immediately began removing the raisins from his and putting them on Antonio's plate while the older boy broke off the glazed part at the top and put it on Arthur's.
Mel watched this exchange with a strange smile; these two really were close now. She was glad of that; Arthur deserved to have a good friend like Toni.
She switched her attention to Peter who had almost finished his whole piece.
"Have you wished your brother a happy birthday, Peter?" She asked.
"Was yesterday," Came the muffled reply.
"But we were too busy then," she gave the infant a stern look.
"Happy Birthday, Art," Peter didn't bother to look up at his brother, much more concerned with his mouth full of cake.
"Thanks squirt," Arthur used the same nickname Antonio often used for him, earning a similar glare from his sibling that Antonio always received from him.
"Now, Arthur, why is it you look so worried today?" She set aside her plate and leant forward on her bony elbows, hair falling forward slightly and her expression one of gentle scrutiny.
Again, she read him so easily. He had already decided not to mention the prince to her - not because he thought she'd say anything to anybody - but because he hated to worry her. She herself was a hardy woman, but where Arthur or Peter were concerned she showed a soft, almost weak spot.
"It's nothing really..." Arthur swallowed the lump of cake in his mouth, avoiding Mel's eyes as if this in some way would prevent her from seeing right through him, the lump stayed in his throat uncomfortably for a moment, "Just...some of this Warehouse work and deliveries and everything - I get worried I could make some danger for you and Peter... I just hope to avoid that – not that I'm involved in anything underhand, nothing like that."
He was making a mess of things and he knew full well Mel would see through all that.
Antonio looked at Arthur in honest concern and reached out a hand, hesitating when he realised he didn't quite know where to place it. In the end he squeezed Arthur's shoulder in an effort of comfort, letting it drop to his side again awkwardly. Arthur pretended not to notice.
Mel looked between them and thought for a moment of what could be bothering the child. Perhaps it wasn't about the Warehouse at all, she let herself ponder, thinking for a moment of that you girl the two boys spent so much time with.
She asked no more questions, sighing and wiping her hands on her skirts. She gave Arthur a weary smile. If the boy wasn't worrying about the girl, he should be, far better that than about old Mel and Peter; they were coping just fine.
"What do I always say?" she asked, looking from Arthur to Peter, who had managed to scramble onto Antonio's lap. The fire crackled warmly in the background, its soft glow flickering over all their faces.
"Quite a lot of things," Arthur gave a half smile and sat on his hands.
"That when they found you, Arthur, curled up out there in that ditch you were practically dead. You were burned and cut up from branches. You had bruises and gashes all over your legs and were hypothermic from being soaked through. Your feet were seized up from running and your leg was broken. Somehow, you'd managed to harm every bit of yourself."
Arthur shut his eyes; he knew which story this was now. It always hit him because he never liked to think of the state he'd been in when he was found. It made him feel as small and scared as he did in his haunting nightmares.
"You were, quite frankly, a mess," Mel turned her solemn face to the younger child and smiled now, "But little peter..."
"...Not a scratch," Arthur muttered, having been told this story enough to have memorised this last phrase. It was this phrase that pulled him out of the panic of his nightmares at times. Or when he felt he wasn't doing the best by his family or was selfish some way. When he thought of the state in which he'd re-entered the world.
"Not a scratch," Mel repeated, smiling with bright eyes.
Peter laughed loudly and reached out to pinch his older brother's cheek - only slightly hard - he too, was used to the story, despite not properly understanding it. He knew it meant that his brother, the very same one he loved to hate at times, cared about him enough to let himself get bruised and bloody in the hopes of keeping him safe.
Antonio, feeling for his friend, reached out as he had done earlier and this time put an arm around him, squeezing his shoulders for a moment. Arthur couldn't pretend not to notice this time and very slightly (and a little nervously) leant against his friend.
Mel sat back in her chair.
"You wouldn't put us in a dangerous situation, Arthur. Not then, not now."
"And did I tell you he knows how to hunt and everything?"
"You mentioned it, yes." Matthew gave his brother a weak smile, "But you know, Alfred, if you were so keen to learn archery you could have asked me."
"But you're still learning too...And you never have the time!"
Alfred was in Matthew's room and since entering had done little but chatter excitedly of his new 'friend'. For Matthew's part he merely sat back and let his brother talk, smiling a little in bemusement. He also didn't mention to the younger prince that this 'Arthur' was most likely committing a felony if he hunted in the woods underage; he didn't want to get the poor boy into trouble - knowing Alfred, he'd beat the information out of him anyway.
"I'm only telling you because I know you can keep secrets, okay?" Alfred sat down on his brother's bed, pulling a velvet cushion onto his lap and hugging it, "Yao would probably be mad if he knew I'd been talking to commoners, so it's just between us!"
"That's probably a good idea," Matthew nodded at his younger brother and tried to give him a serious look. "But Alfred, don't get your hopes up too much, alright? You know this Arthur may not be able to come back and if he does I'm sure he'll be focusing on his work."
"I know," Alfred tossed the cushion aside and flopped back onto the thick lined blankets."He did say he'd come back though so he'll at least try, right?"
"I'm sure he will."
Matthew felt a little sorry for his brother; he was so hopeful just for a visit from a peasant delivery boy. Truthfully, Alfred only really had his brother as a playmate on a regular basis and there weren't really any other children around at all, it was understandable he got lonely. Not only that, he was always so fascinated by the lives of commoners and those outside the palace's high walls. Matthew, particularly since the choice that Alfred would take the throne, had more freedom and had actually seen some of the areas Alfred wished to and could say they were certainly not the things of fairytales the younger child seemed to imagine.
The mattress shifted slightly as Matthew sat down beside where his brother was sprawled across the embroidered quilt, staring up at the decorative wooden ceiling of the four poster bed.
"Did Yao speak to you?"
"Hm?"
"Yesterday," He confirmed simply.
"Oh, yes," Alfred sat up and stretched out his arms, yawning, "And Lord Ardnan was there too."
"Ah, yes, Lord Ardnan is assisting Yao in the preparations towards your rule, little brother – he's come all the way from the Clubs Kingdom for it," Matthew had his head cocked to address his horizontal sibling, " pretty special, eh?"
"Yeah, he seems okay, but I don't think we're friends yet," Alfred sat up, staring at a point on the plush, floral carpet quizzically.
"I hear he's not a bad magician, you should get him to show you a trick."
Alfred seemed to brighten up at this prospect, magicians were always his favourite entertainment at the palace – though there was less and less of this since his parents had passed away, less of lots of things, in fact.
"Great!" Alfred smiled at his brother, though it faltered slightly, "we haven't had a magician in years – father liked magicians."
"So he did."
There was a silence, not an awkward one – there was never really an awkward one with Mattie – but one of rare sadness between the two in which they really felt the absence of their father in their lives.
Georgia bustled into the room at that point with a whine of the door and fresh towels filling her arms.
"The bath water is almost ready, boys," she announced as she began busily folding down blankets on the bed.
Neither of them spoke of Lord Ardnan, their father or the delivery boy again that evening.
A/N: Ugh so much dialogue and not enough action here, sorry! D:
But please review if you liked it and hopefully I can get the next (more exciting) chapter out sooner than usual!
Thank you guys!
