Bad Omen
Deliberation meetings were not easy to bear for either prince of spades now that the initial novelty of taking an active part in the card council had worn off, just as the first snow had melted into puddles of slush this morning; dazzling white faded to a somewhat unsightly beige.
On Matthew's part, his presence in the meetings was barely noticed and his opinion never called for. He didn't really mind -not that much. He listened attentively and sat scribbling notes throughout them - most of which he passed to his younger brother as they left the meeting room, Alfred's own page only ever containing a few doodles of rabbits or stars or boys with bows and arrows. Despite his inability to record anything from the discussions, Matthew noticed that his brother took part much more in them than he once might have, interjecting often with points of view which were actually quite informed. This pleased his older brother, at least.
Outside of the meeting room, however, his brother seemed in lower spirits than ever. He spent a great deal of time on his own, gazing out the window or in his room when usually he would have always had company. The past day or so had been particularly bad. He had returned from the garden and not touched his breakfast, prodding the food with his fork rather than eating it in a way which was very out of character. He had then spent most of the day attempting to read a romance novel the Queen of Hearts had lent him and putting it aside with a restless sigh every five minutes or so and looking out the window in a very dramatically troubled fashion. Mattie was not the only one to notice: Queen Elizaveta and Jack Feliciano stopped him as he passed them into the parlour after another dinner of pushing food about on the plate.
"Oh, Alfred, you must be in love, dear," Elizaveta commented with a mischievous smile, tucking in her chair.
"Si, si, you are, Alfred! You were sighing all through dinner!" Feliciano eagerly joined her, "unless you did not like the meal..."
"He's lovesick, for certain," Elizaveta winked at the boy who Mattie saw now turn a little red in the face.
"Of course! We had pasta for dinner!" Feliciano concluded, "...it must be love!"
Angelique glanced sharply in their direction after catching a fragment of their teasing. She swiftly looked away and stuck her chin in the air as if disinterested as the group continued into the parlour room. Alfred himself wore an expression of mild distress, shaking his head half heartedly at the royals while his cheeks became increasingly flushed.
Mattie initially thought it somewhat unlikely that his brother was in love - he was quite nervous if ever Matthew mentioned Angelique to him - but he thought this was probably because his brother feared the possibility of their marriage rather than any actual feelings of love. He supposed he could have taken an interest in Erika, but if Matthew had not seen signs of that, Basch, her over protective brother, surely would have. The other option, of course, was that something had happened between his brother and that boy from the farming region - maybe they had had a fight? Maybe he wasn't coming back anymore? but Matthew would be happy not to have to cover for him so often if this was the case: lying really stressed him out. For a while Matthew had thought the boy might just have been an imaginary friend like the one Alfred had had when he was very young - Tony, was it? He'd had to accept that this boy was real since then and had even seen his horse through the trees once or twice. It was true that ever since Alfred had first met him, Matthew had thought his brother was a little bit in love with him - no subject or person could put such a light in his eyes or glow in his cheeks - no one else did he speak of so eagerly. Still, It would be much safer if he stopped coming to the palace. Matthew was thinking about saying this to Alfred soon anyway.
Anyway, he wasn't going to think about his brother right now, he was doing something for himself. He had to remind himself of this several times as he made his way down the empty corridors.
He had made a resolution and he was going to keep it - at least that's what he kept telling himself as he hastily exited the conservatory and wove through the courtyard, past the maze and out onto the front drive. His boots crunched on the gravel and gave more authority than he felt. The air was colder than he had anticipated, dressed in only his sweater, he braced himself against the sharp edge of the breeze as he saw the man he was seeking, in his vivid red military jacket, leading his horse from the direction of the stables. A stable boy tottered at the horse's rear carrying a saddle. Matthew was thrown off by the fact that the man was not alone and hesitated for a moment on the threshold of visibility. Another cool gust of wind brought him to his senses and he stepped out, crossing his path.
"Um, e-excuse me sir," Matthew tried to reduce the existence of nerves in his voice.
He stood awkwardly in front of him as the man lifted his face to acknowledge and recognize him.
"Ah... Mattyboy, how did I know you'd meet me out here?" the man halted just ahead of him, grinning in his open, excitable way.
"You were ...?" Matthew began in surprise as the man continued in the direction of the main gate with his horse in tow, "oh, right...it must be nice to always predict these things."
He gave a cautious smile in return for the Joker's own and fell into step with him, as he went on his way with ease and confidence.
"Not always," Gilbert argued in good nature, " I didn't predict that this guy here would take it upon himself to lug this thing all the way after me," he turned to the apologetic stable boy and took the saddle out of his hands," go on, buzz off," he demanded, laughing.
Now, not far from the gate, the man stopped to attach the saddle to his horse, Matthew watched him do so, the sun catching the reddish hue of his eyes as he focused, smiling to himself. An albino's eyes were often even more striking than their hair, but Matthew himself also had peculiar eyes, faded into a soft violet shade as he had grown older, and he observed Gilbert's eyes only with some admiration for the way his smile always reached them.
"Gilbert..." Matthew found the courage to begin at last, adjusting his glasses, "I just wanted to ask..."
"You know, Matthew, I'll be back from the training ground this evening if you wanna start asking a bunch of questions," the pale haired man finished fastening the saddle and cocked his head at the anxious prince, only smiling at the other's awkwardness.
"Well..." Matthew didn't want to keep him from his engagement but forced himself to be forward, something he normally hated doing, "no, no - don't worry, I don't have a lot of questions, I just couldn't not say anything to you about-..."
The joker's gaze wandered from Matthew to the main gate and his expression became hard and calculating, as if he had seen or smelled something which displeased him. Matthew's words trailed off into the air as he watched him observing the gate with caution.
"Get behind me," Gilbert glanced back to Matthew and touched a hand to the sword sheathed at his belt, not losing his grimace.
"What?" Matthew glanced nervously to the gate but saw nothing - nobody, "why?-"
"Do it!" he demanded more harshly, holding an arm out in front of him now.
"I..." Matthew considered what was being asked of him for just a moment longer, eying the uniformed man in confusion.
"Merciful gods!" Gilbert exerted in exasperation, grabbing Matthew by the shoulder of his sweater and pulling him close to him, behind his back, "do you want to die?!"
As if in the same instant there came a loud, obtrusive crack from somewhere close by and the Joker's body was thrown forcefully to one side, away from Matthew. He let out a cry of pain and clutched his shoulder. The retreating stable boy released an alarmed squawk and turned on his heel, spraying gravel as he ran to meet them once more. The guard at the gate, having heard the earsplitting crack and the man's cry were up and running, yelling as they scattered unto the thin forest between the palace and the city, whistling loudly to alert others stationed nearby.
"Oh god, sir, you've been shot, sir, " the stable boy announced with a shaking voice, he looked as though his knees might give way beneath him.
Matthew shared his emotion, looking from the gate to the wounded man in disbelief and having to remind himself that he wasn't dreaming. Mattie considered himself to be someone who usually expected the worst, but this was a truly awful outcome to his seeking the man out this morning.
"Why, yes," Gilbert replied, panting, "I can see that, boy, but thanks for clarifying."
"You're bleeding, Gilbert!" Matthew gasped and went to the doubled up man pressing his hand instinctively to the source of the blood and looping his arm around his shoulders, "why...why would someone do this?"
"You two are a class act," Gilbert responded with sarcasm but, somehow, he still wore a pained grin, "and they weren't aiming for me, Matt," he tried to straighten up, wincing as he did so, "listen, kid, go inside and tell the nurse I got hit, Mattie here will take me in."
"Y-yes, sir, you just be careful, sir," the stable boy skittered back along the gravel toward the palace.
"Is it bad, Joker?" A guard called as he made for the gate, "is the prince hurt?"
"It's just my shoulder that's all, nothing a man like me can't handle," Gilbert called back as Matthew acted as his crutch on their hasty way to the main entrance, "...not a scratch on the prince."
He muttered the last phrase with a fixed, quiet resolution, his pained grin replaced with a look of determination.
"I'm so sorry, Gilbert," Matthew agonised softly as he led him into the front door with difficulty, "if I wasn't so stubborn and had let you go this wouldn't have happened and-..."
"And you would probably be dead," the older man retorted in a strained but firm tone.
"Why would anyone want me dead?" Matthew whispered almost to himself, the albino man's blood seeping through his fingers as he pulled him towards his room at the palace.
Why would someone want to kill him of all people?
So came the time for Arthur to leave Kattleroot. He had been able to hunt down four rabbits that had been coaxed out by the hint of springtime on the breeze that morning. These were some consolation for having to leave his family to fend for themselves for a while - though Antonio had promised to find a little time to hunt for them where he could and had even commented that he might be able to craft real traps if he improved enough on the forge - an optimistic but useful prospect.
The evening had proven long for both of them. In a roundabout about yet long winded way Arthur had illustrated his situation to Antonio, who on his part had listened with amazement and some incredulity. It had taken Arthur hours just to attempt to cautiously describe and make excuses for his relationship with the Prince of Spades (though he downplayed it considerably) and another to justify his agreeing to Natalia's offer. Antonio was eventually swayed to sympathize with Arthur's plight but it was long dark by the time the topics of Arthur's fears and Antonio's grief were exhausted and the motions of tears and anger and love and hate gone through enough times that neither one of them could bear to repeat them any longer.
Mel had pressed open Arthur's door late that night, having come from the Carriedo house itself and had found the two of them still in their work clothes, curled up like children, asleep on Arthur's narrow bed. Antonio had not even removed his boots before exhaustion had taken him. But still, she was glad those boys had each other; a little mercy in a dark time like this.
When morning came, Arthur had slipped out of the house without disturbing his sleeping friend but returned from his hunt to find him also gone and Mel dressed in her formal black dress.
"Glad you're here for this at least, dear," she said and touched his hand in a gesture of comfort which said 'all is not lost'.
"Where's Peter?" Arthur asked as he pulled on his 'smart' jacket, which was of course as worn and ill-fitting as the rest of his wardrobe.
"In bed - poor thing has come over all feverish this morning - I've given him a poultice so we needn't worry."
Arthur took the time to check on his brother anyway, finding him firmly tucked up in Mel's bed, sleeping a little restlessly, cheeks flushed and a sweat on his brow. When Arthur bent low and raised a hand to the child's forehead it was hot to the touch. Peter's eyes fluttered at Arthur's gesture, taking the elder sibling aback. When his eyes fully opened he was looking past Arthur as if he wasn't there. His breath came out in ragged sighs.
"You disappointed her," he said groggily and Arthur frowned; his brother's voice was solemn and dead, as if the six year old was suffering from shellshock - as if he were a hundred years old.
"What did you say, pet?" he thought he must have misheard his brother, but it didn't stop a cold uncomfortable feeling from spreading within him at what he thought he'd heard come from his younger siblings mouth.
"We disappointed her, " he was alarmed to see his brother's eyes glistening with tears, "she wanted girls - she was disappointed with you and - " he made a choking sound in his throat, "me even more. And you couldn't even save her. She would be so...disappointed."
"W-what...?" Arthur found that any other words escaped him as he stared at his brother, who in turn stared past him, eyes full of tears, lip quivering.
"How's he doing?" Mel announced as she entered the doorway to the room, making Arthur jump.
"He's babbling complete nonsense!" Arthur turned to her in alarm, but when he turned to look at his brother once more the glazed look in his eye that had been so haunting to him was replaced with his usual inquisitive gaze, pointed in their direction now.
"Could I have some water please, Mel?" Arthur flexed his jaw in surprise at the normal innocent tone his brother had regained - had it been all in his head somehow? Was he going mad?
"Not a problem, sweetheart," Mel replied and as Arthur slowly began to make his way out of the room to follow her she turned and said, "sometimes the fever muddles the words that's all - he's going to be right as rain tomorrow."
Arthur couldn't shake the cold feeling which spread across him at the way his brother had looked past him with eyes full of tears. Even if it had all been his imagination - who had they disappointed? In his heart he knew that he must know, but it was too painful to bear thinking about.
The funeral was a well attended but a quiet affair. Sophia was struggling to hold back her tears as the old priest gave poor Felix his last rites in the run down churchyard. The place had really fallen into disrepair over the years (though Arthur never remembered it being very glorious) and the crumbling, lopsided headstones had shrubs and thistles sprouting up between them. On one side a sloping hill of unmarked graves was a more recent addition which had expanded over the course of the winter. There was something which seemed ancient and forgotten about the space which made Felix's freshly dug grave feel as unnatural as the loss of the boy himself. A lack of colour in general amongst the gravestones was broken on this morning by the bushels of flowers in people's arms, the young logging group had an armful each of colourful wild daisies and from near the back of the crowd Arthur could also see that Belle held a sizeable bunch of white flowers. The rest held mostly bunches of snowdrops. He felt comparatively empty handed but forced himself to let that guilt pass and pay his respects as best he could before his time was up in town.
Once the priest was done, Antonio lifted a battered guitar to his knee that Arthur remembered he would quite frequently play on request at the Goose in past years but had not touched all winter. The melody he played was almost familiar to Arthur who felt as if he might have heard Antonio's father play for them one evening long ago. The words struck a chord with Arthur and as they blossomed into the silence of the churchyard, he struggled to recall when last he had heard Antonio sing.
It dawned on Arthur that he had heard the song before and the feeling of its familiarity made him feel dizzy and lightheaded. It was a nursery rhyme, perhaps? Or a lullaby? Something which a woman had sung to him once a long time ago and reminded him of comfort and warmth. In the churchyard, others were just as moved by the music which was carried on the air. Sophia let her tears fall and solemn faces turned towards the earth, grown men wiped water from their eyes and the children were stilled and silenced.
Arthur was overcome with thoughts of the words that he had heard his brother utter to him that very morning as he listened to this heartbreaking lullaby. This was not a day for Arthur to grieve for his own fractured memories but as he saw them lower Felix's thin, wooden coffin into the ground he felt as though he could not bear to bury that old life and that forgotten home: he was eighteen now and finally ready to unearth his own secrets. He prayed this place he was going could help him. He prayed Natalia was right.
Afraid he would cry, Arthur prepared himself to make an exit, catching Antonio's eye as the song ended and nodding at him gravely. He glanced towards Mel at the front and let the feeling of sadness and resolution wash him down once more before he turned to leave them, quietly opening the rusty gates to let himself out and escaping toward the forest. He would not look back to the life which seemed held together with no more than strings and glue and he would not return to it until it was securely whole once more, for himself, for the Carriedo's and for his little not-quite-home.
A/N: I split these last couple into 2 chapters as it made most sense to me but I'm releasing them both now as I'm behind schedule (and the first one was relatively short)!
I've been quite occupied with making arrangments to move into a new house for uni next year but as long as people are still interested and reading the fic I will continue putting out chapters! So please leave me a review to let me know how you're finding it! :)
Lots of love, mwah
