“I beg your pardon?”
“There is someone waiting for you in your bedroom, Your Grace.”
“Alright,” I sigh. She’s going to scold me again, isn’t she? “Thank you for telling me, Mia.” Tearing myself away from the sofa, I begin the daily tread towards my room. She’s probably sitting with her leg over her lap, her arms crossed, and a scowl on her face. I shouldn’t have gone downstairs until the gathering started - now she’s cross with me. In a habitual veer towards the side of the hall, I pause to peer into its hanging mirror. Angling my jaw upwards, I press my palm against my neck as if that might make for a smoother appearance. Was it always so undefined? My gaze draws towards a singular stray strand of hair sweeping past my brow. I attempt to tuck it in along with the rest of my bangs, but it persists in its loose fall. Bringing my whole hand, I repeatedly smudge it against my temple, more and more forcibly with each swipe. Eventually, it stills for a moment and in a standoff with my reflection, my sight lingers. However, in a slow crawl, the strand crumples back down to lay closer beside me. My gaze softens. Perhaps it didn’t know any better and needed to be taught. Perhaps this was how my father felt about me? I’ll just leave it be until I can find a pomade I suppose.
Continuing down the hall, I find myself dreading our nearing encounter. She’s right about me. I do lie. And I am selfish. She wouldn’t have stayed without an annulment. It’s the only reason worth being here. I think she’s even right that I don’t care. If I truly cared, I would have just given her the brooch. It’ll keep her safe. I guess it’s my own envy that it won’t have been me to be the one to protect her. No, that responsibility will be better carried out by a jewel. I wonder if she’ll find someone worth staying for, though? He’ll probably be a citizen of the kingdom, likely working diligently to afford a place hospitable enough. He’ll presumably be scrounging to save up and surely couldn’t provide her the finer things in life. If not while living in the estate here and now, there’s a high chance she’ll have gone her whole life without having even tried cream ice. It’s a frozen delicacy that I’ve not yet had, but maybe she would like it? I’ll have to ask her if she would be interested in indulging in it. She’ll be terse with me if I don’t inquire about it prior.
I hope she’s not been troubling herself by scouring through my room, again. The brooch, it’s not in there as I’ve already informed her. Sighing, I have doubt she’ll ever find it. Of course, she’ll try… again… and again… and again. Eventually, I’ll just hand it to her. But then what? I halt my steps. Furrowing my brows, I realize that I don’t think there’ll be a what. She doesn’t like me so there won’t have been a point in becoming the duke. Then I’ll just…? While the thought lingers, I find my gaze drifting around the hall, having noticed trace particles of dust dancing in the afternoon sun’s rays. They float idly across the air. Waving my hand gently through them, they swirl about past my fingertips in a quick disperse from each other. I watch as they go about becoming separate in their own respects. Perhaps, as time progresses, their lives will finally slow and become intertwined, again, but I wonder, if they were to find their way back, would they remember each other? What would that look like? Might they reunite only to part ways, deciding never to dance with each other again? Watching as the specks calm into a listless glisten, I realize they probably don’t mind having forgotten. She merely hadn’t felt inclined to. I don’t think she remembers me at all.
After all this time, I’ve never known what it felt like to be hurt by her. She’d always smile such a wide grin, but never in spite of me. She’d often tease, but only when I’d blush around her. However, now, it was as though she relished in my heartache. It was as if she hadn’t loved me anymore, and I was no longer welcome in her heart. Had we spent so long apart, that time couldn’t in good faith make the heart grow fonder? Was this the divine ruling for those that couldn’t make things work quite soon enough - that the right time had gone by too swiftly, only to be survived by her memory? With her grave in my mind, and in my hand holding flowers I never got the chance to give her, she’s alive but I am dead to her. The hand of fate we’ve been dealt has been cruel but I have been crueler for trying to resurrect a love long passed. For being outright desperate in my attempt to unearth the burial of a heart left to rot in my parting. She has no longer a purpose for me outside of what I can deliver to her from beyond the grave so that she may finally rest… Breathing a deep sigh, I realize. So with a heavy heart, I will just give her the brooch.
Shoving a hand to my pant pocket, I can feel the polished finish of the jewel. It’s what she would have wanted. I hasten towards my room, latching my hand over the knob and pushing the door open. But unless it were my eyes deceiving me, rather than finding my precious Ava… I find Lady Margot in my room?
“Where’s Ava?” I ask curiously, peering around the corner of my bedroom for traces of her pouty demeanor.
“Where’s Ava?” she repeats mockingly, “I’d think you would be looking for me, instead.”
“No,” I answer aloofly, “I’m looking for Ava.” Pulling away from the doorframe, I turn my gaze back towards the hall behind me. “Is she perchance downstairs?” I inquire.
“What do you care for her whereabouts, Nikkolas,” she prods, irregularly familiar with me, “when it’s just you and I here, now?”
“Well, I have to speak with her, Lady Margot.”
“No you don’t, Nikkolas, not when she already knows,” she alludes. She already knows I’m giving her the brooch?
“Then…” I pause, deliberating over her words, “Then I must go to her now.” If she’s expecting me, she’ll be terse with me later if I dawdle too long. I let go of the door’s handle and motion towards the stairs.
“W-What? Nikkolas, wait!” she calls after me, suddenly placing a grasp over my wrist.
“Lady Margot, what are you doing?” I ask concernedly, turning my attention back to her.
“But aren’t you here for me?” she presses, meeting my gaze with her narrowed eyes.
“No,” I insist, furrowing my brows at her sudden assertion. “I’m looking to speak with Ava, Lady Margot,” I clarify, trying to diffuse our exchange in my pull away from her, “and it seems I came here by mistake so I must be heading downstairs to meet with her.”
“What are you going after her for?” she scoffs, digging her nails into my arm as though incensed by my appeal.
“Margot that hurts,” I assert, confused by her outburst, “I-I need to find Ava.”
“No! You said you would marry me!” she growls in her attempt to drag me back into my room.
“Margot, let me go,” I assert, the edge of her nails dragging against my skin in my wrestle out of her grasp, “I don’t want to marry you!” “Margot, what is wrong with you?” Looking down at her in her attempt to sway me, her grimace appears angry as though blindsided, her latch on my wrist unyielding as though desperate, and her tone contentious as though entitled. Looking down at her, I realize that, although different, I see a reflection of myself. She must feel utter and complete disgust with me.
With a sigh, I relax my gaze at Lady Margot.
“I am heading to speak with Ava,” I affirm somberly, “But I won’t be discussing this matter further with you, so I suggest you let go as my heart will always belong to Ava.” In a silent seethe of my words, she fixes a stern glare before finally throwing my arm out of her grip. “Thank you,” I remark, before turning to deliver a gift worth giving.
Ava is lying aimless on the sofa, rocking one leg over the other.
“Avalor,” I say meekly, making my presence known. A slow turn of her head reveals the face of an utter scowl, contempt explicit in her expression.
“What are you doing here?” she says in a low whisper.
“I have something to give you.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” she hisses, her gaze fixed on me.
“I know–”
“I don’t want anything from you,” she repeats, more scornful this time in her sudden rise from the couch, “Do you think your gifts mean anything to me?”
“No, of course not-” She charges towards me, pushing past me in her ascent upstairs. “Wait, where are you going…” My voice trails off in my follow after her.
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