Arabella flinched slightly at the sound of a knock on the door. Lying in bed, she pulled the sheets over her head and awaited the sound of Aubrey's footsteps leaving her side. A few moments later, she listened in closely to the familiar voice on the other end.

"Is she still unwell?"

"It's nothing to worry yourself about, Lady Olivia. Nothing that a few more days of rest can't fix."

Silence and after a moment a soft sigh. 

"She must have run herself into the ground with her duties...When she wakes, let her know that I stopped by. "

"Of course, my lady."

Upon the sound of the door closing, Arabella sat back up in bed and picked up the skirt of her nightgown to rush back to her original spot at her large window, with curtains drawn but widened just enough for a view of the manor’s gates. She ignored the sound of Aubrey approaching in favour of squinting through the gap with bated breath.

"How long will this farce last, milady?" Aubrey sounded less than impressed by Arabella's little act. "Are you nervous about the prospect of meeting his highness? A visit such as this is a privilege to the family."

"A stately visit at the last second is not a privilege. Nor is it cordial..." Arabella replied absentmindedly, staring almost unblinkingly through the window. She bit at her lip hard, ignoring the tender feeling from chewing at it so ardently. "I'm not nervous. I'm just not in the right mood to put on a show."

He wanted something.

That much was blatantly obvious. Their father didn't involve himself with royalty, hardly ever with other members of the aristocracy either, so even their visits to the capital were nearly non-existent. Ishir Lockhart had dedicated his time to the Earldom until he passed. Layton himself was not interested in the politics of high society or its politics. On top of that, despite their family's history as soldiers of the royal family, they had barely interacted with royalty more than necessary to this day.

Things like this just didn't happen to the Lockharts. 

Aubrey glanced at the girl with a thoughtful furrow of her brow before sighing, "If I remember correctly, you were introduced to the Queen herself when you were much younger, milady. This can't be much different."

"I was six. I hardly remember it and I doubt she does either," It was the first and last time she had met Queen Frances at all, considering the next time she went to the capital, she was...well, dead. "And again. I'm not nervous."

Aubery let out a soft hum expressing her doubt at the claim, "...Well, I am not paid to ask questions but I do find it interesting that you asked of me to keep an eye on who the prince speaks to, this evening..."

Arabella turned her head to Aubrey and attempted to furrow her brows only to realise that they had already been firmly furrowed albeit subconsciously. Aubrey's lips held the subtlest of smug upturns. Had Aubrey always been so brazen? Perhaps so and Arabella was just too self-important to notice.

"Is it a crime that I'm curious about why he's here?" She spoke steadily, frowning. 

Aubrey said nothing, only raising her dark brows slightly before moving on and leaving the topic alone, much to Arabella's relief. 

As a precursor, of course, Aubrey herself was being watched... Just in case. Carol very clearly was smitten with the prospect of meeting royalty and did not bother hiding it. All Arabella said was: 'I hear the prince is so handsome even the most stoic of women fall for his charms. I'm curious if Aubrey will break in his presence, it's a shame I'll be too busy to see it for myself.' With a mischievous grin and a twinkle in her eye, Carol was on board immediately. 

The sound of approaching trotting in the distance snapped Arabella's attention back to the window and she felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat. 

There it was.

The golden carriage, the royal crest adorning the top and sides- a golden phoenix spreading its wings on a deep purple backdrop. That was his carriage. It was unmissable. In all its opulence, it still contained such filth within it. It was the carriage she was hoping he would show up in. His favourite one. A quiet sigh of relief cut itself short when she noted the two cavalrymen riding on either side of it. Arabella felt her lip twitch downwards involuntarily as she saw their guns.

Just like when she had been accused.

No. It was fine, that was normal. Her mind was rushing to illogical conclusions. They were just guards. Nothing out of the ordinary, not yet.

But she saw what she was hoping for. Stepping back, she closed the curtains fully before she could see the carriage could even come to a stop or glimpse even a strand of blonde hair. 

---

A nerve-wracking 20 minutes go by. By now, the greetings must have been put in place, her absence explained and they had to be sitting at the dining table already served. That meant no servants wandering the halls. 

Arabella whipped her head to the door at the sound of a soft knock and rushed out of bed once more with quiet footsteps. She took a moment to herself, preparing her best sickly-sounding voice and croaked out a pitiful,"...who is it?"

"Aubrey, milady."

With a sigh, Arabella opened the door for the woman and shut it behind the both of them, dropping her act. Once Arabella turned, she crossed her arms and raised her brows, "...well?"

"Dinner has been served."

"And...?"

"They are all conversing at the table. His Highness has remained with your siblings since entering. The rest of the staff not attending to the dinner have taken to cleaning the kitchens."

So he hadn't talked to any of the servants yet. Arabella let out a small puff of air from her cheeks and nodded, accepting the news. This was fine, all fine. Her nerves seemed to send constant shivers down her spine every moment. While Cecil was here she would know no peace.

After a moment to breathe, Arabella moved to her table by the window and brushed back her curls from her eyes, "Alright... Well, I'm starving, Aubrey. I'd like to take dinner in my room, this evening." She watched as Aubrey curtsied curtly and made her way out of the room. "And... take your time."

Once the door had shut, Arabella leapt out of her seat, biting her lip. She didn't have long to do this, after all, 20 minutes at most. On her way towards the door, she slipped on her robe and slippers. Her footsteps barely made a sound against the plush carpet of the halls as she made haste. She followed the familiar path with a constant jitter in her legs that she made her best attempt to ignore until she wound up at the large oak doors. It wasn't the best of plans, but Arabella wanted an unbiased account of their conversation. She made her best attempt to lean in close to the door, her ear barely grazing the hardwood door and just barely making out voices from behind it.

"...I would like for the Lockhart legacy to continue on strong."

She felt a sick chill down her spine at the familiar voice. Calculatingly cordial, to the point of confusion. Uncannily human. 

Cecil. 

Swallowing down her sentiments, she leaned closer.

"We are no longer a military family, your highness. We haven't been since the last war with Elheim. Decades ago." The baritone was evidently Layton's. He sounded firm and unmoving, as per usual, but somehow even more so now. What were they talking about? "I cannot accept. I am not the man for the position."

Olivia's gentler tone was harder to pick up through the door but Arabella strained to listen, "...I've heard Major Everett is doing a fine enough job in the North."

A tense silence caused Arabella to instinctively step back from the door in caution. However, it only lasted a moment. A quiet laugh filled the silence soon enough. It was a dreadfully familiar laugh. 

"...' Fine enough' but hardly to my standard. Major Everett simply is not fitting for the rank. There are just some tasks commoners can not complete, regardless of skill. He was not my choice. And you, my lord, are indispensable." She could hear a smile in Cecil's voice in his attempt at charm. "The commoners in the North are unruly compared to the commoners here in the East. I hear you're viewed positively by them, Lord Lockhart."

Another silence, even tenser than the last. 

Layton's voice grew distant, "That's simply the effect of my father's reputation passing to me as his heir. I have not held the title of Earl Lockhart long enough for the people to form their own views on me."

"A good reputation is a good reputation, regardless of where it stems. And that is indispensable."

Major Everett... It wasn't a name she recognised. Nor did she recognise whatever they were talking about happening in the North. A commoner in the military with the surname Everett? Arabella's eyes squinted in confusion as she raked through her brain for a memory of any sort linking to it. She failed to find one. As far as she could understand, whoever Major Everett was, he was going to be replaced. By her brother nonetheless.

"Again. I have no place in the military, your highness. Let alone as a Major."

"...Think about it." Even without being present in the room, Arabella could hear that the bite of his demand was softened by a smile but just barely. "I look forward to hearing your thoughts in writing."

The atmosphere of the room traversed even through the door and she found it difficult to swallow all of a sudden. 

"O-Oh, why don't we move onto a... more palatable topic of conversation for the dinner table," And there it was. Poor Olivia left to salvage the terrible atmosphere. "It was our sister that organised the menu for tonight, isn't it delightful?"

Arabella sighed and stepped away from the door. She must have missed anything truly important with her late arrival and was left with mere crumbs. And so began her slow trek back to her room. 

3 minutes. A measly 3 minutes she had eavesdropped and she hardly understood a thing. Her blue eyes travelled lazily to the window... Aubrey would not be back for at least another 10 minutes... She could spare 5 in the gardens. No servants were around to see her in a nightgown and by God she needed the fresh air to clear her head.

Upon stepping foot outdoors, Arabella was greeted by the cool breeze tousling her loose curls and a barely setting sun warming her brown skin. It was fairly warm, despite the time, a sign of summer approaching steadfast. The grass had grown lush over the course of spring. Just a few minutes basking in this was all she needed. Staying indoors, pretending to be ill was stifling. A deep breath in and a deep breath out. 

"You're Earl Lockharts youngest sister, Lady Arabella, are you not?"

Arabella didn't move. Even when the footsteps approached closer, she didn't dare move an inch. Every part of her regretted her excursion in an instant. She should have sucked up her disappointment and scurried back to her room. It wasn't too late. She could walk facing forward, and act as though she heard nothing. 

"Am I mistaken?"

She swallowed roughly, steadying her nerves. It took every muscle in her body to force her body around to face him. He was looking straight at her, a calm and cordial smile ever present on her lips. She hated it. Every bone in her body hated it. Yet still, she forced her expression into one of neutrality, one that wouldn't give away her deep and searing loathing, "...You're not, your Highness...It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He looked expectant for a brief moment, his purple eyes flickering downwards. He wanted her to curtsy. She would not. Arabella could not remember a single time she had deciphered Cecil's true emotions, the few times she had thought she had, it was revealed to be a facade. Even now, his smile was unyielding despite how she shifted slightly from foot to foot. 

The once warm breeze turned ice cold on her skin. She wanted nothing more than to return indoors and there was nothing more to be left said but she didn't want to leave looking suspicious or worse, intimidated. He shouldn't have been here; she had left but a few minutes ago, dinner couldn't have concluded so quickly. Arabella quickly turned her eyes away, "...Was dinner to your liking? I apologise for my absence, I am unwell."

A smile. One that did not quite reach his purple eyes but was believable enough to someone who didn't know better. Cecil spoke evenly, "My business in your estate is completed. I fear that I did not have the chance to enjoy the dinner you so graciously planned. I am needed back in the capital." He tilted his head ever so slightly, hands folded behind his back as the cold breeze barely tousled his blonde coif.  "I will be taking my leave in a moment. I just thought it to be necessary to traverse the beautiful Lockhart gardens while I had the chance."

That fake charm that she had fallen for so easily before made her feel sick to the stomach now. She avoided his gaze, finding her escape from the situation, "Then I will take my leave also-"

"Do I scare you?"

A cold sweat collected on Arabella's skin in less than a second. Caught off guard, she darted her eyes up to Cecil in panic and regretted it. She never knew what he was truly feeling, but she would have to be a fool to miss the inkling of dark amusement glinting in his eyes as his false smile remained. She had spent a year with that disgusting expression after all.  

Keep calm. She was certain her neutral expression had faltered for a moment but she made her best attempt to keep up her mask of neutrality, "...No-"

"Are you certain? You're trembling." His eyebrows raised in a move of mock concern. Her old self would have fallen for it. She knew better now. "I'd hate to intimidate you in any way, Lady Arabella. Our families are friends to one another, there is no reason to fear me."

"I'm just cold," Arabella swallowed dryly and focused all her attention on stopping the slight tremor in her hands that she had failed to notice. "What possible reason... could I have to be afraid." She forced out the words, silently berating herself for how her voice faltered and failed her.

Cecil smiled strangely at her. It was not a smile Arabella could decipher, she just knew that she didn't like it. After a moment, the smile morphed into his typical front, "...Then you should return indoors at once. I wish you a hasty recovery." 

With a nod of the head, he turned back towards the manor, where she finally caught a glimpse of his guards waiting. She jerked slightly at the sight of the guns once more before shaking her head. He was gone now. Finally. 

Even so, the unease remained. No, it increased tenfold. She felt nauseous.

That wasn't how things were supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to be so pathetic. 

Arabella let her eyes fall down to her trembling hands and quickly she grasped them into fists so tight she was certain blood flow had halted. She was just cold. 

She just needed to be back indoors. 

But once she had returned to her room in a daze, the trembling didn't stop. 

Aubrey was waiting inside, just laying out her dinner on the table and she gestured to the table, "Dinner is served-"

"I'm not hungry," Arabella pushed the words from her lips and made a direct move towards her bed. "I'm going to sleep now, so don't bother me until the morning."

Aubrey paused and blinked in surprise, "Shall I return your dinner?"

"Leave it. I'll eat later. You can collect the dishes in the morning," Arabella had made quick work of burying herself in her sheets. Soft and velvety, her safe place. 

Aubrey's silence was telling. Not even the shuffle of feet was heard. After a brief pause, she spoke softly, "...Is everything alright, Lady Arabella?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" The response came automatically as Arabella squeezed her eyes closed in a poor attempt to induce sleep. She didn't have to think about anything while she was asleep. "...I'm just tired. Maybe I really am sick."

Aubrey hesitated but eventually gave in, curtsying, "Rest well."

Arabella waited for the sound of the door to close before she allowed herself to open her eyes from beneath the sheets. She raised her fisted hand to her face. She had stopped trembling. 

She was just cold. Nothing else. 

She opened up her hand and swallowed hard at the realisation that she had cut small crescents into her palm. It stung but she didn't mind. The stinging distracted her. In a smaller sense, she found comfort in it.

She was feeling pain, so she was alive. She was alive, so she had a fighting chance. She had a fighting chance, she had to win. 

And she was going to win. 

---

The golden carriage traversed the path out of the Earldom with ease. 

The coachman let his eyes wander upwards to the setting sun with slight distaste; it would be nightfall in less than an hour. The 3-hour journey would be a daunting one. 

"Halt!"

The coachman pulled the carriage to an abrupt stop at the sight before him. A cart overturned on the road, two men standing on either side of it looking perplexed. He watched as the two guards dismounted to approach the men and start a conversation. Situations such as these were typical setups for highwaymen, but he eased himself. No one would dare attempt to rob a royal carriage let alone one carrying the prince himself, protected by armed guards. 

"We need an extra hand!" One of the men called from ahead. " Could you help us pull the cart upright, sir?"

The coachman glanced over at one of the guards who simply nodded and with a disgruntled sigh, stepped down from his position to join them. He had not signed up for this. 

With four men pulling at the cart, it was quick work. The two men, seemingly common labourers, were unaffected by the beratement from the two guards at their audacious nature in blocking a royal vehicle. Once the deed was done, one of the men smiled toothily approaching the coachman, "Thank you, sirs! We'll be on our way then!"

The coachman wrinkled his nose as they both brushed past him, making a point of brushing off the parts of his uniform that they had grazed before following the guards back to their original positions. However, just as he made a move to man the reigns he paused at a lighter sensation in his pockets. His eyes widened as he reached into his jacket pocket. 

He must have dropped the key to the luggage car while lifting the cart. 

A firm and singular knock at the window behind him and the smooth voice following it caused the coachman to jump, "Resume the journey."

"Yes, your highness. Of course, your highness."

Without hesitation, he grabbed onto the reins with clammy hands and urged the horses back into their trot. He'd keep quiet, no one would have to know lest he be fired. Thank goodness he always carried a spare.