Withering Petals

Chapter 11: The Emperor's Birthday Banquet

"Everybody, soon or late, sits down to a banquet of consequences."

A week had passed since Lady Maeve's tea party, and the Emperor's birthday is looming, fast. Your father had been busy dealing with preparations and gifts for the Emperor, while, Frederick had helped with the noble affairs, running errands for you father once in a while.

When you told him about what your father had told you, he hadn't taken it lightly. If anything, he was kind of ignoring your father, avoiding him and only going to him when necessary. It was a contrast to how he was in your previous life, when he would always attempt to be a suck-up to your father.

You didn't know which side of him you preferred though–the side that made being in the same room as your father and him unbearable, or the side that would follow your father around like a lost puppy.

Unfortunately, it was one or the other, so here you were, sitting at the dining room table, your fork and spoon clasped in your hands–a little too tightly–while you tried to ignore the silent argument that was going on between your father and your brother.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them as they glared daggers at each other, the plate of food in front of them untouched. The rising tension was starting to become unbearable. You desperately wanted to leave, but leaving them in a room together would only spell destruction. The only reason they weren't screaming at each other was because you were here, and if you left...well, the outcome goes unsaid.

You were brought back to the present when your father cleared his throat. "Uhm, I'm sure you've both heard of the banquet that is to be held at the palace next week to celebrate the emperor's birthday. I expect the two of you to be on your best behavior, and please, do not cause any trouble. I will not be going, and if I hear a single-" His words were interrupted by a snort from Frederick.

"Yeah, because you're too afraid to meet the marchioness–or should I say, our mother?" He laughed humorlessly, and you remained quiet, watching silently your father stood up abruptly, his hands clenched into fists as his ears tinged red–a sign that he's pissed off.

"You know very well it wasn't my choice." His voice was dangerously low, and you realized that this was one of the rare times when your father got angry.

"Oh yeah? Is that why you didn't bat an eye when she married the marquess? Because it was her choice? If you really loved her, you would've at least tried to stop her."

Your father was silent for a moment, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. Great. Just great.

"How foolish of you, to think that I didn't try. That I didn't beg her on my knees to cancel her marriage. That I didn't get beaten up by her family because of it. I didn't want that to happen. Could you really blame me?" His voice came out as a snarl, chilling you to the bone.

Frederick was silent for a moment...shocked. Father rarely ever got angry at him, and he didn't know how to deal with it, so he stood up abruptly and left the dining room, slamming the large mahogany doors after him. You stared at his plate–that was still untouched–and tried to ignore the tension that still hung in the air.

Your father sighed, running a hand through his hair as he proceeded to sit down. "You know that I want the best for you, right? For the both of you."

Your mouth dried as you racked your brain for a suitable answer. "Yes, I'm aware," was all you said.

He contemplated it for a moment, before nodding and letting out a relieved sigh you didn't know he was holding.

You continued to eat your meal in silence simply because you didn't want to waste food, especially when it was your favorite dish, although you were dreading a conversation with your father.