Brushing his hair back and out of his eyes, Alistair squinted up at the Pub's sign the following morning. The Hound undeniably had a very different atmosphere during the day and nighttime, a testament to Katherine's skill in hiding in broad daylight. Getting out of the manor wasn't as difficult a feat as he had expected. A charming grin to Olivia and a little white lie that he was going to visit some friends was all it took for her to kindly send him on his way.
Entering the building, it already seemed to have some customers, despite the early hour. But he was here on business. He smiled at the bartender, a gruff bearded man named Griffin who grunted in recognition of the boy. Moving up the stairs, Alistair took the familiar path and opened the wooden door to find the person he was looking for lounging on a couch and sipping wine. He raised his brows in a judging manner, "Day drinking?"
Katherine sat up, raising a brow and smiling though she seemed completely unashamed at the wine glass filled to the brim in her hand, "I own the place. I can drink whenever I want." He smiled at the woman and as she got up, she nodded for him to join her at the table.
The two of them quickly made themselves comfortable and got to business. Alistair relaxed his face into a smug smile, "Do you still have any doubts?"
Her brown eyes narrowed and she slowly sipped at her glass, "...I wasn't expecting you to follow through, Alistair. When you told me that you had Arabella Lockhart working towards your cause, I thought you'd lost it." Katherine hummed in thought. "....But she's different, you were right. And if you're not careful, she'll find out you played her."
Alistair smiled though behind it hid a nervous interior. It was true, he lied to Arabella about not having met Katherine and even about the intention of making them meet. Winter had already accepted helping him and their history went back further than he first let on. What he really wanted was to prove to her that Arabella Lockhart was not a liability.
Katherine continued, crossing her arms, "She knew my name, too. My real one. No idea how, unless you were the one who told her." Her tone held some suspicion towards the white-haired boy. "But that doesn't sound like something you would have done..."
Caught off guard, Alistair's eyes widened. He hadn't anticipated that. He was suddenly filled with a burning eagerness to find out how she knew, but the only conclusion would have to be something to do with the other timeline. He would have to drop that. Katherine's suspicious gaze brought him back to the present moment and he forced a smile onto his face again. Though, Katherine wasn't someone who was easily fooled. He had not told her about his return to the past, nor was he intending to, but she seemed to quickly catch on that he had been acting differently since his mother died. He was careful not to stray too far from what his 14-year-old self behaved like, if not with a bit more proactive ambition, hoping that Katherine would chalk it up to a shock reaction. Yet even his most award-winning smiles failed to satiate her.
Huffing, Katherine simply shrugged, her signal that she was bored of trying to get an answer out of him and closed her eyes as she spoke, "I know you're good at keeping your cards close. But even I can tell you haven't told that girl any real details about your plans."
"Of course not," Alistair absentmindedly pinched at the tuft of white hair that had fallen into his line of sight with slightly darkening eyes. "She has her own personal reasons for joining me. And it could complicate things if she knew." He propped his chin in his palm as he spoke, calmly, but there was an evident fire in his violet eyes. "I know my ideas are... radical."
"Only to the aristocracy," Katherine smirked. She placed her glass down and dramatically swiped at the air as if presenting a title, "I can already see it in the history books. 'The Radical King'. Alistair Aurum De Villiers- The bastard who revolutionised Aurumia."
He liked the sound of that. Alistair hid a smirk behind his fist, "You're exaggerating."
Katherine squinted playfully at him, "You're too smart for your own good. Too confident too," Her fingers reached once more for her glass and she took a sip before looking down at the red liquid wistfully. "Since the day Trisha showed up here with you on her back, I knew you'd make something of yourself. But... Ha, even I couldn't have guessed you'd go so far as to take the throne. Poor woman, she raised a son with some kind of death wish."
Alistair's eyes gleamed as he smiled, "Did you drink too much? You're sounding oddly sentimental, Katherine."
She rolled her eyes at him, "I'm no lightweight. This is nothing, kid. " Finishing off the final sips of wine left in her tall glass, she sighed in satisfaction before frowning slightly. Alistair watched, confused as Katherine grew somewhat solemn. After a while, she faced him, her brown eyes hardening dangerously as her tone grew serious. "...You'd do just fine staying like this, Al. Arabella can be dealt with, I can make sure she doesn't say a word about your identity."
Alistair let his expression drop for a moment at Katherine's sincerity. Deep down, part of him felt terrible about how things went in the other timeline. Alistair had accepted his own death, but he was certain that Katherine would have blamed herself in some way. Even back then, convincing her to help him get into the palace was not easy. She was clearly very aware that his entering the palace would end up being dangerous, one way or another. Maybe she was right about his death wish. But, he owed it to her not to let things end up the same way.
Alistair beamed at her, "I know you don't make bets you can't win. So think of this as an investment for the biggest bet of your life." He pointed to himself and winked. "It's like a fixed match. We're changing the odds in our favour with a bit of preparation and cheating."
He smiled in relief when his analogy seemed to put Katherine somewhat at ease. The woman smirked, "Spoken like a true criminal... I'll remain in your corner."
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Leaving the bar, Alistair took a deep breath of fresh air, drawing in the sights and sounds of the Lockhart Earldom. The familiar streets were a comfort to him, the buildings and landmarks etched into his memory from years of living there. He had always considered it a beautiful place to call home and now was no different. From the things he had witnessed as he travelled with his mother, trying to find somewhere to settle, it was one of few places in Aurumia where the people were put first. Epidemics, droughts, rainstorms, hail - Within the Earldom it was all dealt with by the Lockharts. It was the bare minimum a Lord of the land could do, Alistair was aware of that. But even that minimum was not met elsewhere.
Alistair knew that he and his mother had gotten lucky, being able to settle somewhere like this. It was a feeling that he would carry with him always, and one that he would use to inspire his own aspirations. As grateful as he was to call this place home...
There was nothing he hated more than a life controlled by pure luck.
A country where someone's life was decided by the family they were born into, where your livelihood hung in the balance of whether or not a noble's heir was benevolent enough to care about their citizens. A place where the people making decisions were the very people who wouldn't even comprehend life outside of a gilded mansion. He hated it. He hated even more that the bloodline he was born into was made to perpetuate it.
He owed it to the people, to the entire country, to take advantage of his status as King's bastard to force change. One way or another, the aristocracy and the crown would not remain as powerful as they were now if he had anything to do with it. Even if that included the few that had done well for the country.
As he turned a corner, Alistair caught sight of the Lockhart family crest on a nearby building. The familiar deep blue roses entrapped within the golden outline served as a reminder of the responsibility that came with their position. His eyes lowered in thought as he walked.
Arabella was one of his few lifelines in this second chance he had received. And Alistair was certain that there must have been a deeper reason as to why the both of them had turned back to the past at once. But even so, he was walking a tight line in relying on her. At the end of the day, regardless of her desire for vengeance, Arabella Lockhart was a member of the aristocracy and was raised to uphold that aspect of her identity. She had a pride that he could tell was integral to who she was.
The possibility that Arabella finding out about his plans would turn her against him wasn't unlikely.
It wasn't guaranteed. But, her decision relied on what was stronger: Her desire for revenge against Cecil, or her desire to uphold her family's power. She couldn't have both. And he was a little more than afraid of what she would choose.
Alistair audibly sighed in an exaggerated manner, startling a few people who were walking the same street. His white brows furrowed at the troublesome thoughts. He wasn't one to worry so much about these details, he preferred to dive right into whatever he planned to do. But with Arabella, that was difficult. She was cautious to act unless she knew for certain what the outcome may be, it was a little frustrating if he was honest. Though, that trait may have just been something she had developed as an effect of her death.
As selfish as it was, he couldn't help but have the slightest hope that Arabella may choose to support him in the end. But logic wasn't on his side. And so, he would have to continue to operate within a narrow line, relying on her desire for vengeance to his own advantage.
It would have to remain his own secret.