Birthrights: Part 28 (AmericaxReader)

You didn’t sleep much better than you had in past nights, but you woke up nonetheless and proceeded throughout your day. Dressing, breakfast, chatting with Alfred until he was swept up by some more energetic men (including a knight with golden hair that seemed to stand on end who had conquered his way to the title of Baron and was now one of Alfred’s closest consorts, according to a Marquis who ruled the lands north of the knight). After that, you wandered through the gardens in the hopes of finding something more interesting than sitting around.

‘Something more interesting’ came in the form of a rather tall woman talking and laughing with the Lord (Free Lord, according to Frederick-- apparently the two titles were different, though you weren’t sure how) named Ludwig who so startled you. Now he seemed perfectly harmless. His deep, resounding laugh fell pleasantly on your ears and her sharp tongue was quick with a joke, making it seem unending.

“Good afternoon,” you said to them once you were noticed by the woman. She lit up and reached for your hand.

“Good afternoon!” She pressed a kiss to your knuckles and you were taken aback. This was usually the way that younger noblemen greeted you and Alfred-- a means of securing their position with the changing of power without already having been established. Women rarely took your hand, even when you still lived in the village. Women only touched if they were very close, or very old.

Ludwig nodded at you, looking a bit uncomfortable by the situation.

Noticing this, you nodded back and pressed a smile to your face. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I’m sorry. I’ll be leaving now.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” the woman soothed, her voice genuine, “I think it’s impossible for a soon-to-be-queen to interrupt. Besides, we weren’t talking a coups or anything,” she joked. Ludwig laughed nervously, but you didn’t mind. It was nice to hear from someone so relaxed around you.

“I’m the Baroness of the small country to the east of Roderick’s. Elizabeta.”

Another person of status with an odd title for their person. You laughed, equal parts confused and understanding. “Aren’t you meant to be the lady on Lord Roderick’s arm, Baroness?”

A sharp smirk. “I suppose. I don’t intend to take his title nor for him to take mine. I’d rather stay in my own land.”

“Causing a mess of trouble,” Ludwig muttered and was met by a quick shove from the Baroness.

“I’ve taken good care of my own messes,” she said in defense of herself.

Ludwig seemed a bit strained now that you had arrived-- the full laugh you had heard earlier had yet to make another appearance-- and you wondered what you had done to make him so uncomfortable around you. You thought about asking him, but it didn’t seem to be an appropriate time to do so with the Baroness near.

You caught him staring at you as you held back a loud laugh at some story or joke told by Elizabeta. He was distracted from whatever it was she had said (something about her on going “war” with a neighboring kingdom run by the “childish” Earl who you assumed was none other than Vladimir) and you met his eye, struggling to not balk under the weight of his stare.  He seemed a nice enough guy when he was talking with the Baroness, but around you he turned cold. Stern. His gaze was that of disapproval, and you couldn’t shake the way it made you feel as though you should run. Or fight.

Deep in you, you felt a bubbling of anger begin.

Someone called for you from behind you, and you turned too quickly from Ludwig, nearly flinching. Arthur was quickly walking up the path to the three of you, his expression unreadable. The spitting fire of anger in the pit of your stomach was quenched, leaving you cold and smaller than you had been. Your advisor spoke again, though you weren’t entirely sure what he had said.

“Could you repeat that?” you asked, voice meek and embarrassed.

He sighed and bowed sharply to the Lord and Baroness before addressing you again. “The wedding council wishes to meet with you to discuss some of he finer points to the ceremony. If you would?” he directed you to face the path he’d come along, offering his arm up to you.

Flustered, you turned back to the others. “Please excuse me,” you said in a rushed murmur, giving a short curtsy. Heart pounding in your ears and the unsettling lead weight in your stomach accompanied you all the way back into the palace and up the main stairway, through winding halls until you reached a door unfamiliar to you.

“I would advise you not speak often to Lord Ludwig,” Arthur had hissed in your ear as the two of you had marched through the halls. You were leaning heavily on him, body feeling dizzy and heavy.

“Why?” you had asked, eyes scanning the doorways and watching the corners before you turned as though on the lookout for something.

Pulling you to a stop in front of the door, Arthur had told you, “Because he isn’t exactly a consort of yours,”

“What does that mean, Arthur?”

“What does what mean?”

Inside the room, two familiar sets of eyes watched your entrance. Vladimir, who had swung his legs up over the arm of a couch, was staring expectantly. In a chair shoved into the corner of the room sat Lukas, whose nose was currently engrossed in some book.

Caught off guard by the sight of the two men in a totally new environment, you took a moment to process Vladimir’s question. Shaking your head clear of the fog which had settled over it, you answered. “Arthur wants me to avoid Lord Ludwig, but won’t tell me why.”

A glint in the man’s eye told you he very much knew the reason.

“That’s a very old story,” he told you, an eerie smile which you had learned to attribute to the man on his face.

Lukas turned a page in his book. “Old enough that some of us don’t remember the full details.”

You squinted at him, unsure of what to make of that. Was he saying that Vladimir didn’t know the story, and thus shouldn’t tell it? Or was it so old that memories of the event had faded into greyness where they once had color. Lukas made it clear that no answers were to come from him, however, as he continued to read and added no more as explanation.

“I was quite small when it happened,” Arthur spoke up, face stern, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t remember it.”

“You remember what your predecessor told you,” Vlad teased, “I was there for the whole thing.”

Foggy answers made way for more questions and you stepped forward, trying to direct the focus of the group into telling whatever story they were referencing. “What whole thing? What happened?”

Bright eyes caught onto yours, and you felt yourself falling into the sound of Vladimir’s voice as he started the tale.

“Long before your time in this palace, and shortly before Arthur’s, the land now ruled by Lord Ludwig was ruled by his elder brother. And, just as you came from the land under Francis’s rule, the queen from this particular generation was of Gilbert’s.”

Gilbert. The name struck a resounding chord in your mind.

“She was more willful than you, and less willing to submit to her fate.”

“To be fair,” Lukas added, still appearing to read his book though he must have been listening, “the king she was meant to rule with was a pretty awful guy.”

Vladimir shot a quick glare his way, irritated by the interruption, then continued. “She refused to leave her fatherland and was thus taken under Gilbert’s wing, so to speak, while arrangements for the wedding and her coronation were made. While in his manor, though, she took a particular interest not in studying the laws and policies of all of her future lands, but rather in him.

“Around this time, Ludwig was a young boy, but old enough to remember her flirtations with his brother. I think he may have even seen her as a big sister. From what I had heard from neighboring lords and the like, the three got along great. But soon, everything would change--”

He was again cut off, though this time by Arthur. “Must you be so dramatic?”

Lips pressed into a fine line, Vladimir spat out a “yes, I must!” then cleared his throat to redon his persona of a storyteller.

“But soon,” he repeated, keeping a rude eye on Arthur, “everything would change.

“When the king came to collect his bride-to-be, he caught her in Lord Gilbert’s arms as they were saying their own, private goodbye. It was innocent enough, but you know how strong your bond is with Alfred? You know how that works?” He paused here, long enough for you to nod.

Vladimir nodded back. “Yeah. The king could tell where her heart was. He grabbed her, ripping his queen from the lord, and began screaming at her about her faithlessness and her betrayal of years of tradition. Terrified of the man who she would have to spend the rest of her life with, whether he kill her after the crowning or let her live until her natural death, she turned on Gilbert.

 “She told her king that the lord had tried to seduce her and, when she refused his advances, Gilbert forced her to either give in to his advances or be put to death under accusations of practicing witchcraft. Wanting to believe his fiance was telling him the truth and that she did in fact love him after all, and not this lord to whom he had entrusted her, the king forgave her for her crimes and instead punished Gilbert in place of them both.”

His gaze had become distant, and you wondered for a moment how well he remembered these events. Perhaps you should have him stop for the night? But before you could voice your concerns, he pushed on.

“I guess he wanted to make an example of Gilbert-- set a precedent for future kings and queens. He had the lord stripped of all his titles and executed. In his place, Ludwig was granted reign over his lands, though until he was of age it was run by the king as though to make up for what they had taken away.”

“Really it just removed his family from even more of its power,” Lukas mused, book having been forgotten in his lap. He expression was stoney.

A nod in agreement from Arthur. “A little over a generation ago, Ludwig took his brother’s title and reclaimed the lands, though he’s always been a bit touchy around the queens since. His lands are that of a major marital power, so it’s wise if we stay away from his grudge as best we can.”

Your brow furrowed in concern. “Is it possible that he’s the one causing my nightmares?” you asked.

The three witches shared a look, then Arthur took the lead. “We were unable to find any charms or spell bags in your room. If there’s anything in there, it’s much more powerful than anything I’ve ever seen come from someone inexperienced in the craft.”

“So, no. We don’t think so,” Vladimir said, voice loud and too cheerful for the grim story he had just told.

Pressing your lips together, you forced down the fear which made your cheeks flush and your knees ache. “Do we have any idea who it could be?”

Another look, though it was more of a pointed glare on Arthur’s part than anything shared between all three. Vladimir made it clear he was ignoring the look, while you weren’t entirely sure Lukas saw it at all. He did speak up, though.

“Arthur has some theories,” he offered flatly, though you wondered if he wasn’t in the least bit concerned about the same people. He and Arthur tended to agree on what they were meant to do.

Vladimir scoffed loudly. “His “theories” are nothing more than his own personal beliefs clouding his sight! Just because you don’t like someone doesn’t make them evil, Arthur,” he teased, voice sharp and barbed so that they would instigate something.

“It certainly makes them suspicious,” he snapped back in defense of himself.

Trying to keep both sides calm, you decided to step in.

“I agree,” you said, voice steady and a touch louder than it needed to be. You repeated yourself, more quiet than before, “I agree. Arthur has always done what he felt was best for me and Alfred. I trust his judgement.”

The two had been arguing were completely silent, watching you carefully, while Lukas just glanced back down at his book. “That’s it, then,” he said, tone final and indisputable, “We start the hunt.”

Arthur bit back a smile before turning on his heel to search over the bookshelves in the room. “This may get tricky,” he said, though his voice sounded giddy with excitement, “so we’ll have to be more cautious until more evidence is gathered.”

“I think Lukas should take lead,” Vladimir added in a rush, nose scrunched up with distaste. “They have the best relationship of the three of us.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

The silence that hung over the room was stifling, so you tried your best to break it.

“Who did Arthur suspect that it’s going to turn into this big of an ordeal?” you asked Lukas. Your voice carried over the room and hung still between the two of you, the air becoming heavy with something you weren’t able to place. Arthur turned to you for a moment, but decided to keep himself busy and let someone else answer you. You felt your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you waited for an answer from someone.

Finally, Lukas looked up from his book just enough to make eye contact with you from under the pale fan of his lashes. Not unsympathetically, he told you:

“Lord Francis, my lady. Arthur suspects your nightmares to be caused by Lord Francis.”