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Chapter 14

8:00 pm

The amount of effort it took to drag my eyes away from Sanji was almost embarrassing. A buzzing had started in my head the second he'd entered the room, but I was trying to convince myself that that was due to head trauma and oxygen deprivation. It certainly wasn't the way his lips curled around his unlit cigarette or the glint of anger and determination in his blue eyes. It was inappropriate even to be noticing something like that at a time like this. My gut clenched when I realized that it echoed the feeling I'd gotten when I touched Zoro's arm, and I couldn't bear to think about that right now. His head began to turn in my direction, so I forced my gaze away so he would miss me staring.

The shift put Nami right in my eyeline. She was trembling. Fighting every instinct, she had to run to her friends to flee. Her eyes jumped frantically from her captain to Marcus to me and my sister. She took a deep breath and must have come to some decision. Resolve settled over her, and she released her breath slowly, balled her hands into fists, and stepped more fully to block us from view. It was clear she was determined to keep us safe. The move shocked me. A near-stranger putting her life on the line for me was such a foreign concept I almost couldn't believe my own eyes.

Celia's thoughts seemed to echo mine as I heard her whisper a teary, "Thank you."

Nami must have heard her as she turned slightly to see my eyes. Then she smiled brightly at Celia over my shoulder. "You're welcome. I told you they would come for us; never doubted it for a second." The us struck deep, and those hopes I'd been trying to squash had begun to ramp back up in earnest. I looked back at the Strawhats. They didn't look happy that Nami had decided to stay where she was instead of running their way. I could see that they were all chomping at the bit just to grab her and run. Luffy was bouncing out of his sandals, and Sanji had finally struck a match to light that cigarette, inhaling it in one breath till most of it was already ash.

They radiated an inherently dangerous aura, not frightening or threatening but violently protective. Their anxious energy was barely contained; I could practically see it vibrating out of them. But they were waiting for Al's cue, though I could tell Luffy was not happy about it as I watched his gaze bounce between complete devotion and love for Nami to utter contempt and hatred for Marcus.

Though her crew practically begged her to come to them with their eyes, Nami stood firm between us and Marcus. Even after all she's been through today, she's still willing to give her all for us. I was truly in awe of her. She and Luffy seemed to be having a silent conversation, and his gaze jumping between us before suddenly locking with mine, and he gave me a nod. We will save you his eyes all but screamed. A warm feeling I couldn't place settled in my chest. As Nami stood over me, my mind began to turn over. I was suddenly flashed back four years to another friend, another fierce redheaded woman who had stood over me in defiance of Marcus, and my heart squeezed as I thought over how that horror had ended.

I was jolted out of that memory by an intense pain radiating across my neck as Celia shifted behind me, and her elbow accidentally jabbed into my nape. I knew being strangled had seriously messed me up; more than likely, one or two of my cervical vertebrae were damaged. My vision was blurry and was occasionally going in and out altogether. The damage that Marcus had done would probably take at least twenty minutes to heal, and till then, I was useless. Celia's arms shifted to my shoulders and tightened, and she apologized in my ear, her voice watery and sad at having caused me any pain. I weakly squeezed her hand as I couldn't get my mangled vocal cords to work.

Gently, Celia shifted me again so that I rested in the crook of her elbow. The new position took a lot of pressure off my bruised neck, and I sighed in relief. I turned my attention back to our long-lost brother. I couldn't believe my eyes; I might have even thought I was hallucinating from oxygen loss if Celia hadn't gasped with such shock.

A loud clapping came from our left. Though agonizing, I turned so I could keep Marcus in my sights. He was once again wearing that placid, innocent smile. His clapping echoed off the naked concrete and rafters.

"Well done, my boy. That timing couldn't have been better planned if I had done it myself."

Al didn't respond at first, just staring at Marcus with utter disdain. When he finally did speak, his voice was a shock. His voice had been cracking and high the last time I'd seen him. Now it was deep and rumbly and so similar to our father that I was momentarily shocked, and Celia sucked in a quiet breath from behind me.

"Urasea. You bastard! I'm here to make you pay for what you've done."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, no need for insults. I'll have you know I am quite legitimate. Now that one," he vaguely gestured in Gunther's direction, "we aren't so sure about, but I'm the rightful heir alright."

"But not of Fallnia. No, you came, took, and ruined for no reason other than your own ego!"

Marcus's face morphed into a mask of rage, the vein in his forehead almost bursting. "Wrong! I was always meant to be Fallnia's king. And if your whore mother hadn't preferred my servant boy, I would have been!"

The air seemed to suck out of the room. Al looked at Marcus skeptically, "What lies are you spilling now? My mother never would have married you, and our father wasn't a servant."

Evil laughter echoed from Marcus, a mean sneer spreading over his face. He took an exaggerated, almost playful step back, causing everyone to tense, but he didn't do anything aggressive, just continued to slowly walk backward till he reached the steps to the throne. He took each step with purpose till he reached the ornate chair and then sat down with a flourish, almost reverently, running his fingers over the dark stain on the armrest. He looked at Al as he did it, savoring the pain he saw etched on my brother's face.

"No lies, no need for them today, young Alphonse. No, today, we will have only the truth. And the truth is that from her birth, your mother Valleria was destined to be mine. Our kingdoms had sought to ally against the neighboring island, Tarquin, that had been beating at our doors, wanting what we both had. They were a rocky, almost barren island known for stripping other kingdoms of every resource they possessed; alone, neither of our kingdoms stood a chance. So a union was formed, and we were married by proxy when we were ten."

A derisive snort left me. That can't be true. Why in the world would Grandmother ever have followed through with that? Marcus was too far away to hear me and continued with his monologue, "With our armies joined and we beat the Tarquin back until they weren't even a footnote in a history book.

Though we had never officially met, Val and I courted through letters for years. She was funny and intelligent, and I portrayed myself as a sympathetic ear and a complete gentleman. When she was fifteen, I was sure I'd come here, and we would begin our actual courtship and have some sort of symbolic wedding. I couldn't wait to corrupt her and finally seat myself as the king I had always deserved to be. But when the time came, her mother sent a letter saying she wasn't ready for marriage. She needed more time. I was furious and nearly killed a maid in my rage, but of course, I wrote back and said that was fine and that she could have all the time she needed. But with every passing year, my rage grew, and I tried to temper my anger and be as clearheaded as possible to keep up my façade in my love letters to her, but through it all, I plotted how I would make her pay after our nuptials.

Finally, after making me wait three more fucking years, the time came when the bitch gave in; I'd finally won her over with my honeyed words and false promises. We were set to be wed that summer. I set out with a large caravan full of gold, textiles, and stoneware that my home was famous for, so I could really show her what I could bring to this shitty little nowhere island. I was finally ready to be a king. Having always felt jilted that my twin brother Horatio had beaten me to the throne by a mere nine minutes.

We arrived, and it was horridly humid and bright. I hated it almost immediately, and it made my mood sour before I'd even set foot off the ship. I thought I'd seen more beautiful women the first time I saw her, but she'll do. There were always whores that could suit my needs if needed. I was thinking that as she chastely kissed my cheek, and we went on a chaperoned walk around a small garden near the castle.

It all was going swimmingly; we ate together, read together, and shared ideas about the kind of future we wanted, and I truly believed she had fallen in love with the version of me I'd presented to her. I'd already planned all the things I would do to her once I'd gotten rid of her bumbling father and ice-bitch mother. Then, one night, I decided to be romantic, one more act to ensure I had stolen her heart." Sarcasm practically dripped from his voice as if he found romance to be a ridiculous notion. "I had ripped off a poem from a great North Sea poet, one I knew she had never heard of, and after writing it down in a flowery script and tying it around a bouquet of Juliet roses, her favorite, I had my man-servant Elias deliver it to her chambers.

I waited for him to return. I was confident he would come bearing some token from her expressing her devotion to me, and that we would go forward with wedding planning, but he never returned. Instead, the next day, Val was suddenly unavailable to me and dodged my every step for two weeks. Her mother constantly made excuses, while the king kept making ridiculous demands of my servant! I should have sensed something was wrong: what king needs a foreign servant to go on a hunt with him or on a tour of the kingdom when he has a whole host of his own? But I was naïve. I thought the people here were too simple and stupid to hatch any plot of this magnitude."

His fist smashed down on the armrest, cracking the fragile wood. "The week of our supposed wedding dawned, and we had yet to finalize anything; my family hadn't even arrived. My every inquiry was blocked, and no one would even discuss the topic with me. I decided I'd had enough. Valleria was my wife, and she had been for eight years. I was taking her with or without a 'wedding' or permission. I marched into the throne room and was met by a host of guards and King Rickard standing tall at this very throne.

'Where's my wife?' I'd demanded. I was brash, as most youths are, I suppose. I've learned since then that stealth and patience are the better tactics.

I was told, 'You have no wife here. I think it'd be best if you headed home now, son. We've already settled this with your parents. There's nothing left for you here.' The goddamn impertinence! I brought forward the documents of our proxy wedding. My solicitor was there with me to state their validity. To point out Valleria's signature. But Rickard stated that the deal had been made behind his and his wife's back in his father-in-law's desperate bid to save his kingdom, the papers signed by a child who didn't understand what they were. Without the blessing of the current sitting king and queen, the princess would not be entering into any unions of any kind, past or present."

Fucking knew it. No matter the reason, Grandmother Astra would never trade off her only child.

"Of course, I was enraged. My throne was right there, and I was being denied it by a technicality. Blinded by rage, I pulled my sword from its sheath and dove into the crowd. I managed to take down six of their men before I was detained right there at the base of the stairs. I'd looked up into King Rickard's face, and hatred, as I had never known, took root. He met my rage with his own and took several steps down till he was right in my face. Guards held me tight as he bent and bellowed.

'The only reason I'm not putting you to the noose right now is because your father is a dear friend and ally. You will be escorted to your ship and off my island within the hour, or this will be the last day you ever see.' I found it very satisfying when my glob of spit hit him on the cheek.

A guard's fist struck my cheek, and then I was yanked roughly out of the castle, just barely catching a glimpse of Val by the castle door as I was pulled away. I tried to plead with her, tell her I loved her, but it was too late. She'd seen behind the curtain and despised what she saw.

It wasn't until I was on the ship heading home, Fallnia just a dot on the horizon, that I realized Elias wasn't on the ship with me. I didn't really care; he was just a servant, after all, but it was very irritating having to break in a new servant to meet my exact needs.

My return home was fraught, you could say. Mother and Father refused to entertain ideas that Fallnia had committed any offense against us, refused to speak to me at all, really, and Horatio, my twin, thought it best to leave it all in the past. He even tried to set me up with a member of our court, Duke Orkin's daughter Leanna. But I didn't want to be a Duke. I was a king! And I would have my crown one way or another.

It was a simple thing really once I'd decided to do it to arrange an accident to befall my traitorous twin brother. Hunting is such a dangerous sport, after all." He chuckled warmly at the memory.

From across the room, Gunther let out a wounded sound. He looked wrecked, eyes watery as he fought not to let tears fall. It must have been so difficult learning that the only sibling he had left had orchestrated the deaths of the other two. I could see his arms tremble as he stood squared up with Henric. His grief was heavy, and I desperately wished he could experience this alone and in his own time. Celia's arms trembled around me; her love for him seemed to pour from her, and her want to comfort him was a wonder to see.

Marcus seemed pleased with the pain his brother was experiencing. With a flourish of his hand, he continued, "Once Horatio was dead in the ground, it was easy to take over the kingdom, what with my parents all but lost to their grief. And getting rid of our sister and grooming the youngest to be my assassin was basically child's play. A few years later, the news of Valleria's marriage reached me and left a sour taste in my mouth, but I could have been content now that I had my crown. But when I found out she had chosen that nobody servant Elias? No, that was an insult too far.

So I plotted, schemed, and waited. I waited until they were content and happy. Until their lives were as picturesque as they could possibly be. I struck when the Captain of the guard was away, and most of the castle guards had been given the night off for the Summer Solstice. And oh, seeing Valleria realize it was me, watching Elias bleed out over the corpse of his dead wife, and seeing his daughters dragged away for god knows what, that is a memory I treasure. One I think about sometimes when I'm alone in my chambers at night.

It was right. It was just. It was what they deserved for their insult to me."

During Marcus's speech, Al slowly turned redder and redder with anger. The insults against our mother, father, and grandparents were overwhelming. A sultry voice rang out in the sudden silence. "How did you know when the guards would be off?"

Marcus's eyes snapped to her with laser focus, "You don't know this yet, Dusty, but you'll learn my girls don't question me." His glassy eyes roved down her body and back up in a way that made my skin crawl.

A spike of fear hit me. He'd named her. If we lost this battle, I was so scared of what that would mean for not just Robin but all of us.

"Hey, you piece of shit. Don't fucking look at Robin like that."

Sanji's voice, though rough with rage and smoke, was soothing to my jagged nerves. Marcus, though, ignored him. Sanji was just a gnat to be swatted at but not really worth much attention. Sanji went to take a step forward, but Luffy put a hand on his shoulder to hold him still. Sanji trembled; hell, they both did. Al finally said, "Answer the question."

Marcus let out an exaggerated sigh. "Anyone can be bought, boy. Especially a kitchen girl who needed money to support her gambling habit or a maid with a bloke in jail. It's really no big plot, just simple people who had fallen on hard times and were easily influenced. There's no need to worry, though. Anyone who helped me is long dead. I can't have traitors working in my castle now, can I."

He suddenly turned toward Henric. "Continue." Without missing a beat, Henric jumped back into their fight. Gunther was momentarily caught off guard but was quick to catch up, and even through this new grief, he seemed able to keep pace, at least.

I worried as I watched their hazy figures bounce around the hall. My vision had been healing during Marcus's speech, and now it suddenly returned almost like a snap, and all I seemed able to focus on was Al. He trembled with anger, golden eyes fiery but filled with a kind of horrified wonder as he finally turned his gaze to Celia and me. I could tell he had been avoiding it, trying to spare himself the pain, but he couldn't any longer. Celia's arms began to shake around me as her body was wracked with shock and silent sobs, and where her hands were settled against my skin became very damp with sweat.

Her voice was loud in my ear suddenly, quavering, heavy with emotion, "Is that really Al? Oh my god. He's alive. Can you believe it, Wells? Our brother's alive!" The joy and hope in her voice made my heart ache. It was good to hear her sound so hopeful, even when I knew she was terribly afraid for Gunther. She'd always idolized our big brother; he'd been her hero ever since she had learned to walk and could toddle after him on her chubby little legs. Hundreds of happy memories of our childhood flashed across my mind instantly, and a heavy wave of weariness lanced through me.

I'd never adequately dealt with my grief over my brother. The trauma of his 'death' had always been too much for my mind to handle, so I'd placed it in a tight mental box and thrown away the key. That box was cracking, the horrid memories flooding out in a violent wave, so I had no comforting words to offer in return. I stared at our brother, so familiar and yet a complete stranger.

Al had 'died' about halfway through my captivity. Like everything else, I should have known it was a lie, but this had seemed so real. The corpse at my feet, the burnt and blistered skin I'd been forced to drag across the concrete, the hole I'd been forced to dig with my bare hands until my palms had bled, my nails that had ripped from the beds. And the smell, god, the smell that had lingered in my nose for weeks. It had all been an elaborate lie to break me, and it had sure done the trick when all else had failed. My last hope for rescue had been laid dead, literally, at my feet. After that came my greatest shame: the first time, I allowed Marcus to have me without a fight.

But there he stood. Alphonse. I felt fresh tears well up and trail down my battered cheeks. I huffed angrily as I felt the wet trail roll down my neck and couldn't muster the strength to wipe it away. I'm so tired of crying. Last I saw Al alive, he'd been freshly thirteen, all gangly limbs and pimply-faced on the back of his horse on his way to a six-month pilgrimage around the island with Captain Arete. Al had been so excited. It was an adventure, he'd told us. He'd get to train, travel, and meet the public, and he had promised to tell us tons of stories of his travels upon his return.

Celia, Wendi, and I had been counting down the days till he came home, never once considering we may never see him again. Now, here he was, no longer a boy but a man, taller than me by at least a foot, and his shoulders and arms almost double mine. He looked strong and fierce, eyes narrowed with deep frown lines around his mouth. Even with the frown and bad dye job, he looked like our father. Especially now, with that fiery anger radiating out of his eyes, fists gripped tight and trembling at his side. It was the same look and posture our father had had as he had stared down Marcus and his henchmen the night of the rebellion as he had stood between our family and the deaths that awaited us.

It was an image I never expected to see again, and it caused a sob to choke in my throat, caught by all the damage that Marcus had done. I raised my watery eyes to Marcus, finding him watching me with glee. The long con had always been a favorite game of his. I had to look away; my eyes suddenly heavy, so I let them close briefly, and my mind drifted to the events that led to me burying my brother.