4th of June 1795
~Frederick's pov~
Leading me down deeper into the castle my father stayed silent. His icy eyes fixed ahead as we descended deeper into the castle. Everything became darker and soon an ominous aura filled the corridor.
"Why are we going so low?" I whispered. My father paused and turned to me, his face was sour like he was holding something in. "I'll explain when we get there," he spoke. I nodded my head and we began walking again. The light levels became lower and my eyes scanned the hall.
Up ahead was a small crack of light, echoing in the distance was the sound of coughing. My stomach sank again, but not with awkwardness. My father pulled me towards the door opening it slightly my eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. I shielded my eyes and walked inside. I moved my arm away and saw Charles sitting up on his bed.
"Frederick!" he cried out and smiled. I laughed and walked up towards him, he was paler than usual, his blue eyes were greyer as well. "It's good to see you, Charles." I smiled. "Frederick you're back early! Can I show you something?" he grinned. I nodded slightly and looked back at my father. I gave him a look and I turned back to Charles who was holding a book. He sat up on his knees and moved towards my ear. "It's dad's diary." he chuckled.
I smiled and grabbed the book gently. "Dad has many weird secrets and he uses these really weird words. But I managed to read the whole book." Charles giggled. I smiled and opened up the book. Flicking through the pages. I stopped on a random page and scanned the words. My eyes suddenly fixating on some words.
I can't wait for Y/N to come to bed, I want to see her beautiful eyes and her gorgeous face. I'm so excited for when I can pin her down and fu-
I quickly closed the book and looked back at my father who seemed to be gone. I rubbed my brother's forehead and smiled. "That's nice." I chuckled awkwardly. Charles wrapped his arms around me and smiled. "I'm glad you were early Frederick. I wonder why Dad wanted you here though?" He smiled. My eyes widened slightly and I gripped the book.
I stood up and Charles looked at me. "What's wrong Frederick?" He questioned slightly worried. I smiled at him holding his face gently. "I'm just going to talk to Dad quickly," I replied. Charles's scared expression turned back to his usual happy look and he coughed. My eyes became worried and I turned around walking towards the door. I quickly looked back at Charles who was staring at his hand.
I walked towards the door handling opening the door. I gave my father a questioning look and shut the door behind me. "So why am I here then?" I glared at my father. His face became clear with sorrow and his eyes looked at me almost aimlessly. "Frederick the reason I brought you here us because..." he paused and took a breath. My stomach became even more unsettled as I braced for the worst.
"Your brother might not have much time left." He spoke. I looked at my father backing into the wall. "He can't-" My face felt numb and tears began to stream down my face. "Freddy you know this is was going to happen sooner or later." he rested his hand on my shoulder. My eyes stung harder and I backed away. "You aren't serious are you?" I gasped. My father looked away slightly holding his face.
"He's always been like this Freddy, ever since he was born. His lungs are weak and I don't think they're going to make it this time," he replied. My hands dropped and I looked at my father, tears falling down his face. I walked up to him hugging him.
Even after the things I learnt about him I felt a bit of pity for him. His arms wrapped around me as well and we both sobbed quietly. My chest felt weak and a feeling of almost lead sinking down. My father pulled away from the hug and he wiped away my tears. "Now come on, go to your brother and make him laugh." he grinned slightly. I nodded and my father started walking away. I held his diary in my hands and walked back into Charles's room.
"Frederick can we play chess!" Charles smiled holding a chessboard. I looked at him and grinned. But noticed a smear of blood on his clothes. I felt my heart sink again as I walked towards his bed.
"Of course."
YOU ARE READING
Regrets That Were Once Made
Ficción históricaWilliam Seabury is the son of a bishop. A quiet boy of 17, growing up in the early days of America. As the son of a bishop and a American General's grandson, William was encouraged to study and become a member of upper society and to marry rich. Pr...