For King and Country

While We Were Gone

Chapter 29: Fitzgerald's POV

I'd taken to haunting around the palace the past few days. Marie had already shooed me away from where she was decorating, the cooks had kicked me out of the kitchen, so I sat in a little corner nook, a bottle of liquor in my hands as I stared out of the window. I watched as the sun sank lower over the city, taking another drink.

"Good lord Fitz," Marie's tinkling laugh rang through the hallway and I lolled my head to look at her as the sound of her footsteps grew closer. She was in a working sea green gown, made of thick woven material. "We discussed this." She stopped in front of me, reaching for the bottle.

"I'm not drunk," I said, throwing my legs off the window seat to face her. "Marie, how long have we been friends?" Marie's father had been an ambassador to Thanir for the first ten years of her life. I remembered her, running around the palace, bossing everyone around even then.

"I don't know," She said, sitting beside me, "Long enough." She crossed her legs underneath her skirt, one of her bad habits and plopped the heavy portfolio of plans onto her legs. She turned to look at me, smiling a little bit.

"Do you remember when you used to make all the little girls play court with you, and you used to organize my wedding to a different one every day. I hated when you dragged me into that." I snorted, grabbing the bottle back from her. "Good god, you used to squeal 'Fitzgerald, your highness, you have to get married or you'll never be able to have children.'" She threw her head back and laughed, relaxing into the wall.

"Oh you enjoyed the attention. I believed you were frightened by me." I shook my head, leaning onto my elbows with a grin.

"Oh I was! Do you remember when you told me that I couldn't tell you what to do because you were from a different country?" I asked. She nodded, scoffing as she looked up.

"I was a mess." She agreed, starting to laugh at herself again. I sat there and watched her for a second. She'd been a good friend, Marie. I remembered on the day she left, when I'd strode forward and pecked her on the cheek. She'd blushed and told me to write to her so that she could plan my wedding. Father had laughed and thanked her for being so good at keeping me in line. So I wrote, and she wrote back. She'd been the first one I told about Thalia, and she'd wrote back exactly what Thalia's dress should look like and how grand our wedding would be. The night when Thalia's letter came, after the Princess had left, I'd stumbled to her room, and cursed and threw things. She hadn't been happy about it, but she'd cleaned up the mess and never said another word about it.

We weren't as close now as we were as children. But Marie knew me. She knew why I didn't eat broccoli, and why I hated my stepmother. She'd been present when I'd first galloped across the lawn on a horse, and she'd presided over my first wedding. And then the next twenty weddings after that.

"We've been through a lot together, you and I." I said, nudging her shoulder. Her head lolled toward mine as she smiled.

"I suppose we have." She chuckled. I turned, looking up at the ceiling. "You need to get to bed." She said, standing up.

"It's the middle of the day." I replied, she raised her eyebrows, giving me that look that I knew meant I wasn't to argue. I graoned, leaning forward. "Marie, can I ask you something?" She nodded, clutching her papers over her chest. "Why didn't you ever want to be the bride? My bride I mean."

"I don't know," She said, blushing. "You were quite annoying for one. And who would organize it?" I laughed, leaning forward. I stood, sighing.