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♛❞
I stare up at the white ceiling on the ensuing early dawning, my mind continuously swirling regarding the unexpected events of the previous night. What could have been a pleasurable night— concluded as a devastating one.
"You ought to leave this instant."
I looked up at Anthony in surprise before my face scrunched in bafflement, voiced with concern, "What? You are likely to do something ludicrous the moment I depart."
"Exactly why you should leave now, Vasilia," he looks down at me, eyes have completely gone red due to the rage, "this is not something a lady should witness."
I huff at his ineffective retort, pithily glancing at the kissing pair, "I am the least proper lady in the entire Ton, Anthony. There is nothing—!"
My sentence cuts off as I recoil in surprise when Anthony suddenly leaves my side, screaming bastard as he swings at Simon, landing such a powerful anger-driven punch that the man in the act falls to the bottom with a groan. Daphne gasps her brother's name, whereas I watch in horror to Anthony proceeding to further punch his friend in the face a few more times -for his satisfaction, I can imagine- before standing protectively in front of Daphne, creating a gap between the smoochers. Without a second thought of doubt, I rushed towards the limping man, swinging his arm around my shoulder to lift him from the ground.
Simon groans, dull nails digging tightly onto the bones of my shoulder as he stands up, blinking in confusion, "Vasilia? What are you—"
"Not the time, Simon," I immediately interrupted, and I saw Daphne visibly perk up at our first-name use, clearly not foreknowing of us to converse so casually. However, given the present predicament, she decided to remain silent about it, as she should— and assumably question it another daytime.
"You will marry her," the Viscount declares firmly, stare not swaying from Simon. Daphne lets out a stunned 'what' at his words, though her brother heeds nothing as he continues, "immediately. We can only hope no one saw you take such liberties, and my sister is saved from further mortification. You will marry her!"
"Brother!"
"I cannot marry her," Simon articulates, and my body stills beneath his arm. I feel myself sadden at the sight of the younger Bridgerton's expression, her face crumpled, shoulders sagged as desperation watered her sweet peachy-brown eyes.
"You have defiled her innocence, and now you refuse her hand?" Anthony seethes as he nears Simon with a hardened glare, spitting anger at every syllable, "I knew you were a rake, Hastings, never thought a villain."
Simon tenses, breath wavering before he proclaimed once more, pealing more heartbroken than before, "I cannot marry her."
"Then you leave me no choice," the oldest Bridgerton's chest rose, "I must demand satisfaction."
I whipped my head towards my lover in mortification, Daphne bearing the exact expression as she spoke, "A duel? Anthony, you cannot—"
"He dishonours you, sister," he tells his sister before facing the Duke, "he dishonours you and me and the very Bridgerton name."
"I have misjudged you, indeed," Anthony grabs onto his sister's wrist, "You have duped us both, but I shall not see my sister pay for my own misdeeds. We will settle this as gentlemen."
"Anthony," the anger in his face softens a pinch from my pleading, "please, resolve this in a different manner. I cannot lose—"
"I understand," Simon spoke up, removing his arm from my shoulder. My throat constricted as he glanced at me with some guilt before looking at Anthony, "I shall see you at dawn."
"I do not understand," Daphne expressed softly, devoid of all emotion but suffering, "you would rather die than marry me?"
Simon looks at Daphne with eyebrows drooped low, "I am truly sorry."
"We need to go, Daph, before anyone should see us," Anthony spoke softly to his sister, then looked at me, "let's go, Vasilia."
"I— n-no. You cannot do this, Anthony!" I pointed at Simon with my finger, "I cannot bear the thought of either of you dying from a duel. Let us be rational here. Simon is our friend—"
"If he truly were my friend, he would think before dishonouring my sister," he cuts me off, "moreover, I do not want you to associate yourself with such a man."
"But if—"
"And do not speak to me of rationality, Your Imperial Highness," he mocks, eyes sharp as he stares at me. "You just came to power recently, just before you were merely a simple woman of no status nor any education. You do not know anything yet, so do not speak to me of rationality."
I had no words to respond— not once had Anthony spoken to me with such a tone, not once used my intelligence -or lack of- as a woman of lower status as an argument. And it broke me that he chose to resort to that instead of taking my words into account.
"It is alright, sister. I have brought this upon myself. You must not devastate your relationship with Anthony for my sake," Simon voiced quietly, only so it reached my ears.
A bit too late for that, no?
I recall walking back to the party with Anthony and Daphne, the latter occasionally glancing at me as I stayed quiet. I watched the Bridgerton siblings hastily leave Lady Trowbridge's party. The remaining night was a complete blur, no memory retained when all I desired to do was cry out all the tears that were threatening to drop. When I finally reached my room last night, I immediately curled into a small tight ball and wept for hours until I tired myself out, falling asleep on my side with tears staining my cheeks.
Anthony spoke purely out of anger— I am perfectly aware, though I can only hope he does not genuinely view me exclusively as a thoughtless lowly woman. Despite his offensive words, I still love him and worry for his and Simon's fate at the end of this duel.
"Your Imperial Highness," a loud knock breaks the dreadful silence in the room with a call from one of the many maids.
"Do come in," I respond tiredly from my bed, and the young petite maid shuffles into my room, quietly closing the door behind her as I sit up from my bed when noticing a sealed envelope in her grasp, "is something the matter, Bella?"
