Time drifted by at a snail's pace. Sitting in his borrowed room, staring at the vial in his hand, Alistair swallowed back a shaky sigh. The amber liquid within the small, smooth container reminded him of dark honey- maybe even tree sap. It would be almost inviting if it wasn't the same poison that had put him down before. How could such a beautiful thing be so deadly?
He almost couldn't believe that Katherine had managed to get her hands on it, and against her better judgment, that she had given it to him. He had managed to convince her it was for his protection, a last resort. Whether she believed him or not, it was in his possession and was his to do whatever he wanted with.
But 2 weeks into his plan, his trembling body and shallow breathing elicited the realisation that he had underestimated how arduous it would be to develop an immunity. One of the history books Arabella had forced onto him told the tale of a previous King so afraid of poison he dosed himself as protection. In a way, wasn't he just learning from his ancestors? At least, that's what he tried to tell himself every time he diluted the deadly substance into his meals. It's for the greater good. It'd be worth it in the end, if something like 'that' ever happened again.
Regardless, even he wasn't blind enough to ignore that something was wrong. The agony tearing through his body was morbidly familiar, no matter how much he tried to push the memory back, the searing pain in his chest was unforgettable. A subtle panic began to grow in his stomach, as he forced himself to a mirror on staggering feet. Tired eyes, skin glistening with sweat and dry lips. He was a sorry sight and looked just as bad on the outside as he felt inside.
Katherine was in the capital, following through on his request. Explaining this to anyone he knew would be difficult. And hospitals were out of the question; his mother had always taught him to avoid them considering most of the earldom's doctors were graduates from the royal academy. The chances of recognition were slim, but not worth it.
A sudden thought crossed his fever-hazed mind.
With palpitations and staggering footsteps, he stumbled blindly out of the house and followed a familiar path with a pounding headache.
----------------
"...What?"
Aubrey startled back from Arabella after having leaned down to whisper news into her ear. The young girl jumped out of her seat in the study, blue eyes squinting in disbelief. Aubrey gestured to calm the girl down before she reiterated the news in a whisper.
"I ran into him while escorting Mr Reeves out. He collapsed at the gate, murmuring something about poison. I carried him to a guest room."
Arabella squinted even more in bewilderment. What was he trying to do? Was this another play of his? She felt her eye twitch in frustration at the mere thought. 2 weeks of nothing and this is what he makes her deal with. With a sigh, Arabella spoke, "Did anyone see you carry him in?"
Aubrey shook her head firmly, "I made sure to be discreet. All the staff are busy preparing to end the day."
Arabella huffed in slight relief, "Thank God..." It would have been hard to explain, otherwise. She got out from behind the desk and gestured for Aubrey to follow her as she did. Opening the solid oak doors, she stomped her way through the halls. She'd kick him out with his tail between his legs if she had to.
It didn't take long to reach the occupied guest room and as she stood before the large doors, Arabella paused before opening them. Her mind suddenly flashed to the trick he had pulled on her brother and she turned to Aubrey with a frustrated look, "If he tries to hide behind the door, make sure you grab him."
Aubrey barely hid a confused squint through her stoicism.
Ignoring her, Arabella thrust the doors open like a woman on a mission, "Al, you-"
She paused at the sight awaiting her. She was expecting a smug expression or a guilty face that showed he had clearly been caught in whatever act he was planning.
Not a barely conscious, feverish and pitiful figure, writhing in the sheets.
She felt her anger slowly dissipate with every quick step towards Alistair and she furrowed her brows as she inspected the sorry sight. His skin looked pale and clammy, and his strained gasps for air sounded like agony. Only a hint of his purple eyes was visible as he squinted through the pain, and even then it was like he could barely register her presence. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead and almost yelped in surprise at the heat that met it. He clearly was beyond unwell, and Aubrey had mentioned him mumbling about 'poison'...
"Aubrey, call for Dr Charland!" Arabella turned to the maid with urgency in her voice. If the idiot did what she thought he did, then they needed to act quickly. "Be discreet. And tell anyone who asks that he's here for me."
Aubrey nodded firmly and quickly left to complete the task.
Dr Charland showing up was sure to turn heads for anyone who saw; the family doctor hadn't entered the mansion since their father's passing and frankly... she had wanted to keep it that way. Seeing him would stir up bad memories.
Arabella sighed and let her gaze fall back to Alistair, hardly aware of what was happening around him, but breathing at the very least. A sudden sickness rushed to her stomach, at the sight of him. Maybe it was guilt, anger or concern. She wasn't too sure, perhaps it was a mixture of the three. Regardless of whatever it was, she frowned and brushed back the clump of white hair that always rested in front of his face, now damp with sweat, and waited with bated breath for the doctor to arrive.
-------------------
The first thing Alistair detected when he opened his eyes was how much his body boiled on the inside. Then it was peaceful humming slowly coming into focus over his own raspy breaths. He blinked dryly in recognition of the melody. It sounded classical, and vaguely familiar, something like a faraway waltz, something that belonged on a piano.
Slowly and stiffly, Alistair turned his head to the source of the tune.
Arabella sat with her arms crossed and stared down in thought in a seat dragged to the bedside. The humming seemed absentminded, as she focused her attention on a book, entirely engrossed- So much so, that she hadn't noticed his staring. Alistair closed his eyes again and listened to the melody, letting it ease away the burning sensation in his chest. Sinking further into the soft sheets, his mind drifted off to faraway places he often didn't let himself go back to.
He was back in his childhood home again, babbling to his mother about nothing important, she would listen anyway with a smile. The sun would beam down on them as he started the day by going about the town, helping her with shopping, and talking to neighbours. Moonlight would stream in through the window as he was bundled in blankets and falling asleep with a gentle kiss on his forehead.
It was nice for a while until a sudden chest pain, be it from the memory or his condition, elicited a sharp intake of breath out of him and blue eyes snapped up. The humming ground to a sharp halt and he was pulled back to reality. Arabella's eyes widened at the sign of his consciousness.
As tempted as he was to continue the ruse and wait for the humming to return, Alistair sighed, sensing the gig was up and attempted to force his body into an upright position with great effort. His headache only worsened as he changed his position and he groaned at the discomfort.
Arabella shot up from her seat in an instant and glared at him, she looked like she wanted to shout for a brief moment and Alistair readied himself for it until she let out a sigh and sat back down in resignation. He watched in a daze as she reached for something beside her that she then held towards him with a serious countenance, "Drink."
Alistair let his eyes fall to her hands and frowned at the tall glass of water. He turned his head away, and forced out some speech in a hoarse voice, "...I don't think I can ingest anything right now. Not even water...."
Arabella's expression grew exasperated, "Dr Charland said you need lots of water to flush out the poison and help the antidote work. But your body is still the one doing most of the work, so you can't be weak." She forced the glass into his hands with a pointed look. "Drink. Stop whining."
Alistair winced but found himself unable to object when she was glaring daggers at him. So under her gaze, Alistair hesitantly brought the glass to his lips, only realising how dry his mouth was when the water entered it. As soon as he tried to open his throat to the liquid, it refused to go down and he quickly choked. As he coughed the irritation in his throat away, the glass was quickly caught by nimble hands before it could spill. Easing himself out of his coughing fit, Alistair looked up through watery eyes at the glass being held to his lips for him. A quick side glance showed Arabella with a much more concerned expression on her face.
"Just try."
Her voice didn't grow soft by any means, but her effort to convince him didn't go unnoticed. Alistair swallowed dryly and painfully before taking slow sips of the water. By the time he had drank all he could, only half of the glass was left. Arabella seemed to finally take some pity on him and withdrew the glass.
The water seemed to do something to soothe his searing headache and he could finally think again. Alistair looked up at Arabella with an apologetic smile and spoke, "...Sorry about this. Didn't know where else to go..." His voice left him much easier now that his mouth was less dehydrated and it hurt less to speak. "Did I make the entire journey on foot?" Arabella narrowed her eyes at the question and he took that as his answer. Even with the ache throughout his entire body, there was a sense of excitement that arose within him that made him smile. "So it's working. I wouldn't have been able to do that, before. If I just keep-"
"What...?" The word left Arabella in an angry and incredulous tone, less of a question and more like an insult to his intelligence. She narrowed her eyes at him and tapped her finger against her arm impatiently. "That's all you have to say for yourself? And are you really planning on dosing yourself with more poison?"
Alistair frowned, moving quickly to explain himself, "It's to build up a tolerance." She was still glaring at him and he scrambled for an answer to get her to stop to no avail. "I mean- I'm sorry for bothering you. It was for the greater good-"
He spluttered when she tossed something cold and wet that slapped against his face, splattering his clothing with icy water. He groaned, peeling away what appeared to be a damp cloth from his face, only to be met with Arabella's smug expression. She scoffed at the sight of his wet hair and clothes before leaning in her seat with a smirk, "What? That was for the greater good too; I'm cooling you down from your fever." She forcefully snatched back the cloth and wrung the water from it, smirking. "But I could have been gentler right? I could have been much more careful about it with the same result, and none of us would have been pissed off."
Alistair simply stared at her before blowing air out of his cheeks in annoyance. He smiled slightly and shrugged weakly, "...Fair enough."
She didn't seem amused in the slightest, however, and was clearly unwilling to let it slide. Her smirk fell into a scowl again, "I've had enough of dealing with Princes who hide their true intentions from me. Once was enough."
It was only a matter of time before this came up again. He laid back down, staring up at the ceiling guiltily to avoid looking at her. He spoke softly, "...Sorry."
After a beat of silence, however, Arabella seemed to come to a realisation and corrected herself with a sigh, "No. Now's not the time. I'm..."
She didn't finish her sentence and instead gave a quiet huff. He stared up at the ceiling in silence, listening to her movements. Alistair blinked in surprise as the cold cloth was wordlessly placed back on his burning forehead, properly this time. He noted that despite how disgusting he felt from his ailment, she didn't recoil once from touching his sweaty skin. The realisation dawned on him that even if her words didn't properly convey it, Arabella's touch was apologetic.
She finally spoke again with a soft resignation to her tone, "Even if you do stupid things, at least you know when to ask for help."
Guilt gnawed at him.
Alistair's face fell as he stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. Deep in thought, he spoke quietly, "...If I tell you about my intentions, we might both regret it."
Arabella went silent for a moment, surprised that he wasn't avoiding the topic. She narrowed her eyes, "You don't have the right to decide that for me." She crossed one leg over the other. "...But if you're right, then I suppose I'll just take full responsibility for-"
"Even if my intentions run the risk of taking away your family's power and influence?"
Arabella went silent, her blue eyes widening slightly. He faced her and could sense that she was searching for a shred of lightheartedness in his expression that wouldn't be found. Alistair exhaled and finally decided to get it over with. "Will you still be willing to help me, even if what I want goes against everything your family has built?"
He waited anxiously, avoiding looking at Arabella. He wouldn't be too surprised if she was also avoiding looking at him.
"...Explain."
Well, she promised she wouldn't blame him. Forcing himself to sit up, he faced her, "...When I become King- If I become King, the Lockharts... No, the aristocracy in general, will mean nothing. The royal council even less so." He studied her facial expression. Arabella, as he thought, refused to look him in the eye and her brows were knitted together tightly in contemplation. Her fingers fidgeted aimlessly. He could feel any hope he had slowly fading away, even as he continued. "I want to remove the aristocracy's influence on the Kingdom. I want to create a parliament of the people for the people... I've had enough of reigning nobles. And I've had enough of almighty Monarchs. So, if that means removing nobles from power, I'll do what it takes, even if that includes the Lockharts."
There was no use in sugar-coating anything, he thought. But even so, regret was slowly creeping in.
"...Was that your plan in the other timeline too?"
"...I know it's out there. I know no nobles would agree with me. That's why I remained quiet back then and tried to take the throne silently but-" He felt a flare of frustration rise in his chest and he gritted his teeth. "It didn't work. So what's the use in being neutral for a second time? If I'm going to take the throne, it'll be by speaking my mind, even if no one agrees, even if I have to fight 10 times harder."
Arabella deliberated deeply as he seethed.
"...The absolute monarchy is what led to things like my corrupt trial, right?"
Alistair's violet eyes darted back up to her. She was looking down at her lap and clenching her fists. Her cold glare sent chills down his spine. Arabella spoke in a frigid voice. She sounded resolute, but was clearly still grappling with her thoughts, "...A King being able to kill people that inconvenience him with a wave of a hand... I don't want anyone to experience that ever again." Her eyes suddenly shot up to meet his, almost startling him with how intense her gaze became. "If whatever you're planning can put an end to that, then our goals still align. I'm not going to act like I fully understand you. You'd be getting power just to give it away, there's so much more you could do with it. But... I also see your side. It's honourable."
'Honourable'. He felt some of his doubt ease away at her words. Only some. He pressed his tongue to his cheek as he dissected her words carefully, "...You're not sceptical?"
"I am. You've certainly made becoming King more difficult than it had to be," She answered quickly and with a deep sigh. "...If you didn't give up back then, you won't do it now. I already said I'd help you become King, so I'll stick to my word, as long as you stick to yours."
Her unwavering expression perplexed him. If she was so uncertain about his goal, where was the resolute fire in her eyes coming from? It was... nicer than he wanted to admit, that she was willing to stick by him, but, his conscience weighed heavily with the thought of what was at stake on her end.
"If you need time to think about-"
"I already gave my word. Is that not enough for you?" She interrupted him snappily and it almost caused him to jump, quickly pressing his lips together. Arabella crossed her arms, thinking deeply for a few seconds before meeting his gaze with a newfound level of intensity. He watched with cautious intrigue as she pressed one hand flat against her heart and the other into the air, palm facing forward and beside her head. Her next words flowed effortlessly from her lips. "I, Arabella Lockhart, do swear that I will well and truly serve His Royal Highness Prince Alistair Aurum De Villiers, his heirs and successors. I shall pledge my allegiance and do right by him by all means with God as my witness."
The sound of Alistair choking on his spit echoed through the room. The shock that ran through his spine at the ancient oath Arabella had just casually recited sent him shooting upright, much to the displeasure of his aching limbs. Alistair's jaw dropped and with a mixture of admiration and concern, he spoke, "That's... a heavy oath to make."
"I know the weight of my words, so I wouldn't say it without meaning it."
Alistair's violet eyes rounded against his will at her sincerity- or rather confidence, "There's no going back from this you know. It's said that God will strike down those who go against this oath. Coups have been thwarted that way."
Her lips curved into a smug smile, "So you have been reading the books I gave you." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist as she spoke with a shine in her eye. "If I betray you now, it's grounds for imprisonment. Providing you actually reach your end goal, that is."
He wasn't sure what he was expecting from Arabella, but it certainly wasn't this. He slumped slightly and brushed a hand through his white hair, closing his eyes with an involuntary sigh of relief. How was he supposed to react to that? He peeked through half-lidded eyes at Arabella who had begun to tap her finger impatiently against her book and her lips drew into a tight line. Was she nervous? Even with that body language, the fire in her eyes was still there and slightly reassured him that there were no doubts present.
Slowly, Alistair lifted his head and his eyes softened, "If you're really sure about it... Let's go forward without pretences this time."
Arabella's sudden smile, lacking in any sarcasm or pridefulness, caught him wildly off guard and a warmth radiated in her blue eyes, "Finally," Just as quickly as the pleasant smile appeared, it quickly faded into a stern frown. "But enough with the poison. Or at least, slow down and be careful, you can't build tolerance in only a month."
He laughed airily, having almost forgotten about that, "Hah, Right." A small simper graced his features. "If we're being straightforward from here on out, I guess I should start-"
"Save it for when your body isn't fighting poison, I've interrogated you long enough," The corner of Arabella's mouth quirked upwards as she spoke. Alistair let out an amused huff at her concern but as if on cue, he was fighting a yawn. His face flushed at the snicker that sounded from her at that. She opened up her book again, flipping to her bookmark and already becoming drawn into the pages. "Hurry up and recover, so I can go about my business. Everyone here thinks I'm the patient, so I'll be stuck here with you until you do. Just pretend I'm not here."
Alistair didn't argue, nodding and closing his eyes as the warm sheets enveloped him once more. But sleep didn't come to him. Something was missing.
That's when he heard it- The absentminded humming. Faint and barely audible, but still just as soothing. He sighed softly at the lightness in his chest, slowly drifting to sleep, letting the melody wash over him.