things didn't pan out

The funeral was not something Eularia had wanted to live to see. She was still thinking about how she had not been able to find her husband when she had gone to check on him. It was concerning, because she was quite certain her husband remembered the way this was going to work. He was supposed to be 'fake' dead, and she was supposed to go find him and take him to a safe house. She frowned as she gazed out from the balcony, having stepped out to avoid people.

She missed Francesco. They'd not been apart since their wedding—no, that was a lie. When the family had gone on the run and left Eularia to play pretend, she'd not seen her husband as often. Frankie had turned back to drinking, self-medicating. He'd been in a bad way when she had suggested faking his death; she'd planned to keep him somewhere close so that she could tend to her husband in secret. 

Fingers curled around the railing of the balcony as she leaned over to study the kingdom, racking her brain to try to think of where Frankie might have gone. She heard footsteps behind of her though, and sighed, shaking her head as she turned around to face one of her sons. Enzo had gone off with yet another woman, with more alcohol than she cared to think about. Alonso, however, stood in front of her, and she studied the quieter of her boys.

Hey, kiddo. She murmured, reaching to pull the boy into a hug.

Alonso was pretty sure the world had come crashing down--or more aptly, perhaps, that it had been ripped in half and that hordes of monsters were encroaching upon him from every direction. If he wasn't careful (or if he was too careful), then he would find them rearing their ugly heads around whatever corner he wandered upon, under tables, under the bed. He could hardly think clearly for the fear of it all, the confusion, the anger.

He wasn't sure what he had gone to his mother for. Answers? To yell? To cry? When he saw her on the balcony, he wondered how she felt. Was there any regret? Had she imagined the many ways she might go through with her plan, and did she still think about them? A fall from the balcony, that would be one to remember. When she spoke to him, Alonso's jaw tightened, though his fingers merely twitched as he controlled them, stopping himself from digging his nails into his skin.

Don't 'hey, kiddo' me, he wanted to snap, but it was no secret that Alonso was the quieter of the twin princes. He thought to avert his gaze, look around the room instead of at her, but no amount of willpower could bring him to look anywhere else. He didn't move forward to embrace her, as much as his heart ached for the embrace. Hi, the boy uttered, barely a response but one nonetheless.

Eularia's smile was tight, as she noted that her son did not hug her back. How're you doing, my love? She inquired, releasing him, hands cupping his face so that she could better study him.

Concern was real, in her eyes and her voice; but the Campana children had learned their mother was great at pretending. She'd had an all-out fight with Adaria; the youngest of her four had demanded to know if she'd ever really loved them, or if they were a means to an end, like their father.

She'd... had no answer to give, because anything she said could be thrown back at her in a rage. So she had remained silent.

It was clear from his eyes that he had been crying and hadn't slept well at all. The boy continued to avoid eye contact--not altogether unusual for him, but it was painfully clear how on purpose it was by the pained expression and the gritted teeth. How do you... He started to snap at her, 'How do you think I'm doing?!' but he couldn't muster the courage. Not yet. Not while she still had this hold over him.

Am I dreaming? Did...did a spell go wrong?

Eularia studied her quietest child, frowning slightly. No. It isn't a dream, Alonso. I wish it was. The words were true, though she was uncertain if the boy would believe her.

The woman stepped nearer, reaching to brush her hands through her son's hair. If you're upset with me, or angry, you shouldn't let that fester. Her words were quiet, as she continued to address what she could only assume would have been an outburst. That kind of anger can make you sick.

She'd encourage him to lash out at her, because she felt she deserved it. But she could handle it. After all, she handled everything in stride; didn't she?

If you need to yell at me, Zo, I won't be upset.

He didn't believe her--he didn't have a frame of reference for anything other than the fact that she had killed him. His mother's words made Alonso tense his shoulders, though when her hand touched his hair, he didn't falter. It was his mother's touch; whatever ill he felt, however confused or angry he was, it was still his mother's touch.

But how could she? How could she look at him like this, talk to him in this way, after what had happened? Was she playing games with him? Alonso opened his mouth to say something, anything, and then screwed it shut, pursing his lips. What could he say that she didn't already know? Was it worth yelling at her? Would it not make him feel sick for lashing out, for expressing anger like that? That wasn't like him. As much as he wanted to. As much as the words clawed their way into his throat and pushed at his lips, tore at his stomach and made him want to punch something, to stab something, to grab Eularia by the shoulders and shake her until his father, alive and well, sprang forth from her.

How could you? the boy finally choked out, his voice barely a whisper. Tears started to form in his eyes, but he didn't try to hide them or wipe them away. How could you?

Eularia pulled her tender-hearted son to her, whispering in his ear, Your father understood the risks of marrying me. He... understood that one day, I'd not be able to refuse the Talon's demands. She rubbed his back as she spoke, It was not a question of his life or mine but... a question of his life, or the life of his children. The words hang in the air as she spoke.

So... when the Talon approached me, informing me that this was my last chance to save him, or save our children... we talked about it. Frankie had been part of the conversation.

And we agreed. Protect the children.

Alonso let out a choked snort. How convenient. His disbelief bled into his anger; he clenched his fists more tightly, refusing to hug his mother back, and mulling over her words. No, it didn't make sense. She was the queen and he the king--there had to be another way, even if she was telling the truth. Her mother didn't just give up, and neither should she have.

How could you! the boy repeated, much more loudly, more aggressively, and he raised his hands to push against her, wanting distance between them so that he could look at her--so that she could look at him. The tears fell more heavily now, but he tried to ignore them, blinking them away. There had to be another way! He's your husband! My father! We could have--

Whatever he was about to say had been swallowed up by a sob. Alonso fought against another one, shaking his head. We could have fought back! We have the means!

Eularia released her son; usually so quiet, complacent. He was her little dormouse, and... he'd never raised his voice with her. Much less multiple times in one day. She felt numb, like she was witnessing yet another child draw away from her.

She's quiet, because nothing she says will fix this. Alonso was sheltered; but she did not think he was daft. So he must believe they had the means to take on the Talons and Crows out of... childish hope, and she won't dash that.

Not right now.

I'm sorry. Her voice sounds hollow, and she brushed a hand through her son's hair. I should have done better.

Yes, you should have! Alonso readily agreed, ungracefully casting spittle. Maybe he really shouldn't be talking to his own mother this way, but he had no other way to process his feelings, and she was the cause of them. He reached for the wrist of his mother's hand that had run through his hair, but that was it--his fingers curled lightly around it, but the boy didn't grip it any more tightly and didn't push it away from him. How can you just stand there like he--he--he's not dead?!

He looked from one of her eyes to the other, as if searching for an answer by sheer willpower of his own mind, and then his mouth moved as he tried to form words that would never come out. Was anyone safe here now? Were Eularia's own children free from whatever had possessed her to do what she had done? Are you...Enzino...Fran...Adaria... Alonso swallowed. If anyone hurts them too...

Eularia listened to her son, his fingers curled around her wrist, and she paused her movements. No longer petting his hair. I... have to present a strong front for the country. She couldn't fake being upset; and the only excuse that made sense was that she did it for Antiva.

She pretended for Antiva. You'll be safe. Your siblings are safe, too. Eventually the Crown will pass to your brother, when he's ready.

Things suddenly felt more tense when she didn't stop his hand, try to push back, to pull back, to do anything, like she suddenly didn't know what to do, or...or... Alonso let out a choked sob. This was stressful and confusing and terrifying. But--but how do I--" He took a deep, uneven breath, starting to feel panic mix in with his anger. Will you kill him too, because the Talons tell you to?

Alonso's fingers tightened around her wrist because he reflexively wanted to ball his hands into fists, but not to hurt her. He wanted to scream at her and he wanted to punch something, but not his mother. Even after what she did. How can I believe anything you say?

Eularaia was quiet, as she watched her son. He was learning how harsh the world could be. How harsh it was. And she didn't know how to assuage his fears; when he was right. Everything he said, was right. You can't. And you should never believe anyone but yourself.

Her words were quiet, But especially never trust a Crow. We're all the same, Alonso. Well trained, taught to kill and use others, taught to serve.