Peter paced with a growing, barely contained rage. For a night and the better part of the day, the door had remained locked. His shouts for help proved fruitless. Several times, he heard quiet footsteps creeping by, along with hushed murmurs, but no one, it seemed, dared to approach the door.
It had to have been Father or Stefan, then, he reasoned. His mind raced back to his last encounter with his brother. No. It couldn't have been Father. It was Stefan, I'm sure of it.
He tried calling for him, but the servants only rushed by faster, and soon began avoiding the hallway altogether. In his frustration he had tried forcing the lock, but the door was built too sturdily, and a month and a half of little food or sleep had drained Peter of his former strength.
The crown prince stopped his pacing to look about the room. He caught sight of himself in a mirror and winced. The man there was pale and gaunt, his eyes shaded by heavy purple rings like bruises. He had grown a dark beard, and his hair was unkempt and long. He looked as though he had spent a year in the jungle, rather than a month at his desk.
As he turned away, ashamed, there was a sharp knock at his door and the sound of a key turning.
“Peter? I'm coming in.” Stefan.
He turned squarely to meet his brother, his eyes flashing.
“Why have you locked the door?” Peter demanded.
Stefan tried to stifle his tremor. Something vital had returned to Peter's eyes and voice. An echo of that old authority he'd once loved. Now, it filled him with momentary fear followed by intense irritation. He had entered the room calm, but hearing the old Peter seemed to shake him badly.
“I have only done as you wished. No one will trouble you now as you reflect on your precious dead.”
Peter was taken aback by the venom in Stefan's voice. His younger brother's face was twisted with dislike as he shut the door behind him.
“Stefan, what have I done that angers you so?” the prince asked, aghast.
“I hate your cowardice!” his brother spat. He trembled. “I hate your weakness! I hate you!”
The prince was stunned. He laughed a little, incredulous. “What? Stefan, what is this about?”
“Father, Alice, the court—they all defend you!” he said. “I never knew myself to be mistrusted and hated until I began opposing you! The precious favorite! How did I never notice, growing up beside you?” He paced on the rug as Peter stood back, wary. “You forget your duties—fall in love with a foundling—lose yourself in grief—abandon a country on the brink of an important alliance—I cannot fathom any of it! And I am called the villain!”
“Stefan!” Peter called out sharply. His brother stopped pacing and regarded him as if for the first time.
“You are not at your window.”
The prince nodded. “The time for grief is past.”
Heavy silence dropped between them for several moments. Peter cleared his throat.
“Stefan,” he repeated, his voice firm but gentle. “I am sorry so much responsibility fell to you so suddenly. You're right...I did lose myself. Adva was” —he paused— “incredibly dear to me. I reacted drastically.” He slowly approached Stefan, laying a firm hand on his shoulder. The flaxen-haired prince seemed to shrink under his brother's gaze. “You were right. I have reprehensibly neglected my duties. I now intend to fulfill them.”
Stefan stared blankly at Peter. Disbelief flooded his features, wrinkling his brow. He pulled away from his brother's hand.
“You change swiftly.” He cast his eyes on the floor.
Peter sighed, stroking his chin. “Yesterday alarmed me,” he said.
His brother watched him carefully for several moments. Something flickered in his eyes.
“You have...given up any hope that Adva is still alive?”
The prince sighed, a hand reaching to his temple. “Stefan...” He rubbed his forehead. “She is gone. Whether she died at sea or merely ran away, I do not know. I cannot shake the feeling that she is alive, somewhere.”
Stefan's frown deepened as he stared at the rug once more. “What will you do if somehow, she is? If she returns to you, will you abandon the throne once more?”
Peter looked at him strangely. “Should Adva return...” He trailed off, looking toward the window. “I do not know.”
“What are your...feelings towards her? You never did tell me.”
“You never asked,” Peter said, smiling gently. His eyes filled with their familiar distance for a moment. “I love her. I wish I had told her so.”
A short hiss escaped Stefan's lips. “You loved her?”
“Yes,” said Peter. His smile widened into a grin. “I believe she felt the same.” Pause. “I love her still.”
His brother eyed him carefully for a few moments. “Would you do the same thing again given the chance? Break your engagement, break the alliance?” His voice was feverish. “Be lead by your heart rather than the good of the crown?”
Peter regarded him with a frown. “You speak very frankly.” He watched as his brother's hands clenched into trembling fists. “Calm yourself, Stefan, I will answer you! I would make the same decision again.”
“Why?”
“Because it was right. How could I marry Sophia, whom I did not know, all the while knowing that I loved another woman? Despite all good intentions, my heart would always be faithless.” Peter chuckled. “What a miserable life for the both of us!”
“You were selfish,” Stefan accused. “You were betrothed to Sophia from birth. We had looked forward to the uniting of our kingdoms for almost twenty years. Much of her wealth would have been added to the treasury. A buffer of farmland we dearly needed would have joined our western border. New trade routes opened. An army would be given to us. We have none—“
“Stefan, you yourself have said it many times, Pheia has no enemies!” Peter said, his voice growing involuntarily heated in response to his.
“In our generation, Peter!” Stefan shook his head. “Perhaps the next would have been grateful!” His fists clenched tighter. “You did not think of your people when you made these decisions. You thought only of yourself.”
The prince's face slowly lost its warmth as he regarded Stefan.
“Perhaps I did,” he admitted. “Even still, my decision would remain.” Sighing, he tried to speak calmly, turning his eyes from his brother. “It was right.”
“You would give everything up again for the girl? For Adva?”
“Yes.”
Stefan was silent. The air between them was thick. The prince's quarters seemed suddenly cramped and stuffy.
“You pathetic fool,” he said at last. He turned, making for the door.
Peter followed quickly behind. “No! You will not lock it again, Stefan! You have no right or reason to trap me here.” He grasped his brother's shoulder and sought to reach the door first.
Stefan turned on him, hissing.
“Adva is alive!”
The prince's hand froze on the doorknob.
“What?” His voice was incredulous. Despairing hope rose on his face. He grasped Stefan's arm with bruising fingers. “She's alive? Have you seen her?”
His brother wrenched his arm out of his grip, a sneer painting his features. “Yes, Peter, I've seen her. I've even spoken with her. Did you know that, all this time she was here, she was able to speak?”
Peter was frozen.
“She told me the most wonderful stories to explain herself, of course. Let's see.” He held up a hand, counting off on his fingers. “For starters, your beloved claims that she was under a curse that took away her speech. She has been gone from you for these two months by fault of the same. When she jumped from the side of the ship, she was immediately transformed into sea foam from a broken heart. What am I forgetting?” He tapped his chin, then mimed great surprise.
“Ah! I remember!” His eyes narrowed at Peter. “What was the reason for all this grave misfortune on her part? Why, before she came to us, she was—can you guess it? A sea-maiden! Who petitioned no less than Mathis herself to gain humanity and come to you! Do you not feel honored?”
The prince merely trembled, his face pale.
“You have sold your birthright for either a madwoman or an exquisite liar, Peter. Congratulations.” He brushed past him. “Don't worry. I have retained my sense in this critical hour. I will protect the kingdom. I will think of my people. And after the coronation, I will set you free to be with Adva to your heart's content.”
He made once again for the door, but was stopped by weak fingers clutching at his jacket.
“Stefan! Wait...” Peter's voice was barely audible. “Where is she? Where is Adva now?”
“So long as you do not attempt to escape or free her?” Stefan replied coldly. “Safe.”
As the door shut, Peter sank to his knees, his head in his hands. He quivered, shot with a mixture of grief, curdled joy, and now, growing rage. For several minutes he gripped his head, trying to calm his racing thoughts.
Finally, a strangled whisper:
“Adva...alive!”
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Author's Note: Stefan! Why are you so impulsive? And what the heck is going on?! What indeed...
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I get the queasy feeling that everything is about to turn upside down folks...!
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On a side note, I normally never ask for reviews (I don't like people to feel pressured)...but I really want to hear what you guys think! Who would you like to see more of? What draws you in? What bores you? What did you eat for dinner? Talk to me!
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