Sitting on the porch of the main house of the villa, Pericles watched the workers tending to the extensive vineyards of Giordano di Camposanto in the Tuscany region, while he himself sipped a glass of red wine next to the Italian nobleman.
Since he wasn't the eldest son, Camposanto didn't inherit the title of Count, which he considered a blessing, as it gave him time to dedicate himself to his true passion: his vineyard. The man, with dark brown eyes and hair of the same shade, had a square, masculine jaw, a common trait among many members of his family. He watched his English friend with a sidelong glance, noticing the pensive expression on his face.
The Thorne and Camposanti families shared a long, intertwined history. They descended from two brothers, soldiers in the Roman army, who had taken different paths. The elder stayed on the Continent, founding the Italian branch, while the younger migrated to the land that would later become England, where he met a Celtic druidess and settled.
Even so, for centuries, the two clans maintained contact and recognized each other as sister families, bound by a vow of mutual aid. Each new generation renewed this promise.
That's why Pericles had traveled to Italy. He desperately needed help. He could have asked his aunt Aribeth for assistance, but he felt too ashamed. Turning to Giordano seemed more comfortable.
"Is it really that bad, amico?" the Italian asked.
Pericles nodded, handing Camposanto a small notebook.
"See for yourself."
"Dio mio!" the dark-haired man exclaimed in shock. "It's worse than you made it seem. Understand, Perry, I can't give you all that money."
The redhead ran his hand through his hair, tousling it in the process, and let out a sigh. He had made many questionable decisions over the past few years, getting involved in bad business deals and accumulating debts.
"Any amount you can spare would already be a help, Gio," Pericles said, melancholically.
Camposanto placed a hand on Thorne's shoulder in a gesture of brotherly compassion. A brief silence fell between them for a few minutes, broken only when Pericles gasped in surprise upon seeing a tall, slender woman with light brown hair stepping out of a carriage at the foot of the entrance stairs.
"What the...?!" he turned to his friend with a questioning look. "You didn't tell me she would be here."
Camposanto gave a half-smile, feigning innocence, while shrugging. He knew it might cause some discomfort for Pericles, but sometimes Giordano believed life needed "un po 'di colore."
"Claudia invited her for the weekend. It would've been rude to cancel just because you were coming too."
The redhead downed the rest of his wine in one gulp. It had been years since they'd seen each other. In truth, he always avoided meeting her whenever he came to Italy. The two had had a very intense relationship in their youth, but he had been too immature back then, and the breakup had not been pleasant. He wasn't sure if she still harbored any resentment toward him.
"Buongiorno, Pericles," she said with a teasing smile that seemed even more radiant than he remembered.
"Buongiorno, Angelica," the Englishman replied, standing up and placing a kiss on the back of her hand, as was still customary among Italian wizard nobility. "Pleasure to see you again."
"I assure you, the pleasure is mine," she replied, her voice sultry and enticing.
Throughout the day, Pericles spent his time with Giordano, organizing the bureaucratic details for the money transfer while catching up on their lives and families.
To the Englishman's relief, Angelica stayed out of the villa for the day, exploring the nearby town with Giordano's wife, Claudia.
The four of them only reunited that evening during a dinner feast rich in regional specialties. The women chatted animatedly, while both Camposanto and Thorne observed the scene, Giordano with a satisfied smile, and Pericles deep in thought.
Despite everything, he felt nostalgic. He couldn't deny that the years he had spent among the Camposanti had been some of the best of his youth. That night seemed like a glimpse of what his life might have been like had he married Angelica.
After the meal, the women went for a walk in the gardens. Pericles kept his eyes fixed on the figure of his former lover.
"Andiamo, amico," Giordano called, snapping him out of his reverie. "Let's have some more wine on the terrace."
Pericles nodded, and it wasn't long before they had emptied several bottles of the drink, reminiscing about the old times.
"It's a shame you and Angelica didn't work out," the Italian teased.
Pericles poured himself another glass of wine, taking a large sip before answering.
"We were young, and I wasn't exactly known for my good sense at the time. Besides, I have Marge now, and I love her more than anything..."
The Italian gave a mischievous smile, partially hidden behind his wine glass.
"I understand... But, tell me the truth, your wife, she doesn't know about the debts, does she? You could keep one more little secret from her..."
Pericles shook his head, feeling a bit dizzy. He knew Giordano well enough to realize his friend wasn't joking.
"Even if I wanted to—and I don't—your cousin is also married to Cognati."
"Andrea died two years ago," Giordano retorted. "I'm not saying you should leave Marguerith, but why miss out on this opportunity that's right in front of you? Cognati's fortune was considerable."
Pericles lowered his gaze, watching the two women strolling through the gardens. Angelica's tanned skin seemed to glow under the moonlight. He felt his lips dry and took another sip of wine.
"What I'm saying is, Angelica would give you part of the money you need if, in return, you gave her what she obviously desires."
Thorne thought to himself that, given his current situation, it might not be so bad to sacrifice a little of his morality. At least it was preferable to subjecting his family to the certain humiliation when they came to take everything from him.
Pericles grabbed two glasses and an unopened bottle. He gave one last glance to his friend, who raised his glass in a silent wish of good luck. With slightly unsteady steps, the redhead made his way to the gardens.
Alphard, despite the lingering pain from the cowardice inflicted by his late uncle, had heeded his mother's advice. Instead of seeking out his former fiancée, he decided to consolidate his business in Great Britain and reconnect with his family. That afternoon, he was on his way to the Club of the Valets to spend some time with his younger brother. Cygnus was talking about something related to his daughters, and Alphard was trying to remember the order of his nieces' ages to keep track of the conversation: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. Considering the circumstances of Cygnus and Druella's marriage, things weren't as bad as they could be.
However, despite Alphard's good intentions of staying away from his former fiancée, the Hand of Fate seemed relentless and unpredictable. The man looked up and saw her.
Across the street, Marguerith Black was staring at him with a mix of confusion and surprise. Well, he shouldn't think of her as Black anymore. She was now Marguerith Black-Thorne.
With no other choice, the man took a deep breath and crossed the street, stopping in front of her, unsure of what to expect. Not when she still believed he had abandoned her.
"Good afternoon, Marge."
Marguerith's emerald eyes locked onto her former fiancé for a few seconds before she managed to reply. A flood of conflicting emotions surged within her, making it impossible to discern what she truly felt upon seeing him after so long.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Black," she said in an extremely formal tone.
The man felt something unpleasant constrict his throat at her formality. He couldn't blame her, not after how things had unfolded between them. Still, he tried to make small talk.
"Hello, Marge... It's cold, isn't it?" he said, a bit uncertain.
Before she could respond, a small hand tugged at the sleeve of her dress.
"I want ice cream," the child's voice demanded, clutching a wooden soldier in his other hand.
Marguerith knelt down to the boy's level, smiling warmly at him.
"I promised, didn't I? We're leaving now, Ludovic."
Alphard watched the scene with curiosity. Ludovic... So that was one of Marguerith's children... Despite the red hair, they looked alike... There was something about the child that reminded him of his cousin when they first met. Perhaps it was those curious green eyes.
Straightening up again, Marge nodded in farewell.
"Goodbye, Alphard. Welcome back."
"Thank you, Marguerith," he replied, nodding as well.
Marge took the boy's hand as they continued their walk along the sidewalk. At the corner of the street, Alphard noticed a woman with long, straight hair, the same age as Marguerith, waving to her, and his cousin discreetly waved back. He recognized the woman immediately. It was the other twin, Betelgeuse, whose expression didn't seem pleased to see him.
For a few moments, Alphard just watched the figures of the women and child disappear around a corner before turning back to his brother Cygnus, who was still standing across the street, hands in his pockets, staring back at him.
The man gave a sideways smile to himself. What had he been expecting, after all? That Marge would welcome him with open arms after he had simply disappeared for eight years without any word?
Perhaps it was better this way. She was a married woman now. Old Sirius had gotten what he wanted. Alphard couldn't destroy the family Marge had built just because he still loved and desired her. She deserved safety, comfort, and happiness. Maybe it was better for her to believe that he really was the scoundrel who had abandoned her.
"Was it Alphard?" Betelgeuse asked as soon as Marge was close enough.
"It was," the woman nodded, serious.
"But you knew he was coming back, didn't you?"
"Walburga mentioned that her brother wanted to reestablish himself in London," she replied without hiding the sadness in her voice.
"Are you going to be okay, Marge?" Bete asked, pausing for a moment and placing her right hand on her sister's shoulder.
"I don't know... It's not like I'm still in love with him. It's just... What I feel is anger. But..."
The blue-eyed brunette frowned, concerned.
"Marge, you're a married woman. Think of your children. It wouldn't be fair for them to hear the same comments we heard because of our mother and father."
"I know it wouldn't," the younger twin retorted.
Marguerith fell silent, realizing, only then, that the bitterness she harbored toward Alphard was much deeper than she had supposed, greater than any words could express.
"Let's set aside that jerk for now," Bete exclaimed, almost authoritatively. "After all, we have ice cream waiting for us in a few minutes. What would you like, dear Ludo?"
The little boy, who had remained oblivious to the older women's conversation, tucked the soldier under his arm and, freeing himself from Marge's hand, clapped his hands excitedly.
"I want strawberry!" he said, in a tone slightly demanding for someone so small.
His mother smiled serenely at the little one while Betelgeuse crossed her arms, looking at her sister and nephew with a half-smile.
"Sometimes he reminds me of you, you know? And I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Marge said.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Betelgeuse replied, widening her smile. "An ice cream awaits us, doesn't it, darling?"
The little boy nodded determinedly and, once again, clasped his mother's hand, pulling Marguerith along to hurry toward the much-anticipated ice cream. Betelgeuse shook her head again, following the two shortly after. Soon, she would return to Russia with her husband, and she hoped that her younger sister would have enough sense to stay away from Alphard.
Marguerith heard the sound of footsteps coming from the library, where the only fireplace connected to the Floo network in the mansion was located. That could only mean one thing. Pericles had returned from his business trip to Italy.
She eagerly walked toward the room. Seeing Alphard again had affected her much more than she cared to admit, and having Pericles by her side again would remind her why she had agreed to become his wife.
When she entered the room, the redhead had just set his bags down and was brushing off some of the green soot that had stuck to his clothes.
"Welcome back," she said, approaching her husband.
However, it was Pericles who took the initiative and closed the small gap between them, giving his wife an extremely passionate kiss. Still holding her in his arms, he began nibbling on Marguerith's neck, causing her to let out soft moans of pleasure.
"Are the boys asleep?" he asked.
"Yes," Marge replied, slightly breathless.
The next moment, they had Apparated to the couple's bedroom. Pericles eagerly began undressing, and the same need took hold of Marguerith. Soon, the two were in bed, sharing their usual intimacy, though with a ferocity that matched only the early years of their marriage.
Translate
amico - friend
dio mio - my god
un po 'di colore - a little of color
Buongiorno - good morning
Andiamo, amico - Let's go, my friend