Out in the Countryside

An English Morning

"Thread by thread I come apart. If brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece." Neptune, Sleeping at Last.

Kidnapped, why had everyone been thinking that the Pendragon's daughter got kidnapped and not just left home voluntarily?

The anxiety she felt was overwhelming her; her fingertips were tingly and she couldn't even walk up the hill without feeling lightheaded. She could feel an odd sensation in her chest as her stomach was unsettled. Her mouth felt numb despite the fact that the saliva was building up even if she gulped.

It was a good thing that Diarmuid dropped her off in the morning and Jeanne was working late so she had time to formulate and organize her thoughts as she climbed up the dark hill that led to her cabin.

The fog had dissipated by the evening but there were still thick clouds in the sky and an undeniable chilly breeze floating about, nipping at her nose and knuckles.

She lowered her head into her scarf and sniffled so as to keep herself warm and omit illness. She thought about what Lancelot had said—in fact, she had been thinking about it all day long, it just wouldn't leave her alone.

The thought of her mother in tears made a wave of guilt wash over her more than anything else she had heard. There was a time that Arturia and her mother were close, before her father began to glide to the top of the Conservative party, before they became full public figures, before her mother had to always attend formal events and way before there were expectations and rules pushed upon Arturia herself.

She stared at her door, taking some deep breaths to prepare herself. Lancelot was usually very passive and stoic, but his new found courage and fervour against her was astonishing. She was proud that he was becoming self spoken and more confident in going against her—he never said a thing against her before. Ever.

Then again, since he had never before gone against her, it frightened her more. What if he convinced her that she was at fault? What if he coaxed her to return?

The front door swung open, a glare in the violet haired male's eyes, "How long are you going to wait out here for?" He asked, "I've been waiting for you to come in for like five minutes. Are you deliberately trying to freeze out here?"

She opened her mouth. "Ah, I'm sorry. I was thinking about something else."

"Hurry in then, wouldn't it be better to think about it near the fire?"

She watched him as she stepped inside, trying her best to form a smile on her lips. She wasn't sure what to think and what he was going to say to her.

"I...thought about it." He spoke as she slipped off her jacket, "After I left. I was too hard on you. I'm sorry."

Arturia gave a small smile, "It's alright." She could feel her face burning as the warmth of the house thawed her frozen skin.

"Though," he continued, "I do stand by my statement, still. I would also prefer it if you would call your parents to let them know that you are fine and they don't need to worry about you."

The female sighed, plopping down on her couch with a grunt, "Lancelot, you know I'm not going to do that." She kept her eyes trained on the fire, not letting her mind wander into guilt.

"It's not a suggestion, Arturia. It's a command. You have to do it, your parents are worried and you need to calm them down." He spoke.

"No. I will not call them." She was scared that the voice of her mother would coax her to return and she did not want that. She wanted to continue sitting under the stars, feeling the fresh wind as she rode a horse, talk about life with new people—people that would soon grow to know her for who she was, not for who her family was or what she had done.