Just as Arabella recalled, the halls of the manor were morbidly silent following her father, Ishir Lockhart's, funeral. It was a time in her life in which she distinctly remembered her solitude. Layton was occupied with taking over their father's duties and preparing for his new role as Earl. Meanwhile, Olivia preoccupied herself with studying in her room at all hours, most likely to avoid everyone. The three of them rarely saw each other before, but it worsened once their father was no longer around to force the occasional family dinner. It was a mutual avoidance. It was better to not see one another than to risk any more fighting in their current states.

But it meant that she had the vast expanse of the home to herself, and she could go about her business without question.

"Milady, would you like me to reach those for you...?"

"I'm fine." Arabella lied in a disgruntled huff to Aubrey. Her pitiful attempts to tiptoe on the ladder as she stretched painfully towards a book did not go unnoticed. The library was stocked with sliding ladders on each self for this exact reason, yet she still mourned her height. Arabella was a late bloomer, only receiving her dramatic growth spurt at 16. Until then, she would simply have to settle. A gasp left her throat when her finger grazed the book just enough to send it tumbling down to be swiftly caught by Aubrey who was waiting patiently below. With a sigh of relief, Arabella slid back down the ladder to get back onto the solid ground.

"History? Economics? And... Politics?" Aubrey eyed the pile of books in her arms with a questioning gaze.

Arabella scowled and dusted off her hands, "Do you have anything to comment on?"

"Not at all, mildly..." Aubrey corrected herself for thinking aloud. A bead of nervous sweat rolled down her neck for fear of angering the temperamental teenager before her.

Arabella didn't really know where to begin with her plans, but she was certain of one thing. She could not squander this chance she had been given. The simplest thing she could do right now was to educate herself. Relying on her social standing and appearance was what made her so gullible. There was no excuse to fall behind, now that she had this headstart.

Aubrey followed obediently behind Arabella, the pile of books in hand. Her silver eyes stared at the young girl's back in unrelenting curiosity. Now that no eyes were on her, Aubrey's mask of stoicism fell and she tilted her head in thought. It was indeed strange for Arabella to show an interest in such things; it wasn't uncommon for her to walk out of lessons with her tutor out of boredom. Her mind wandered between the differences in behaviour she had observed a mere day apart. Arabella had sobbed terribly at Earl Lockhart's funeral and remained inconsolable for the rest of the day. Then, the morning after it was as though nothing had happened and the young girl had calmed down immensely. But her reason won against her suspicions, as she shook her head as though to dismiss the thought. It wasn't her place, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering what had happened.

The walk was silent all the way back to Arabella's bedroom and by instinct, Aubrey moved forward to open the door for her lady as she always did, only to be stopped by a small hand ordering her to wait.

"You can stop here," Arabella began to take the books out of Aubrey's arms and they seemed to tower over her small frame. Aubrey watched in stunned silence as Arabella smiled softly and made her way into the bedroom. "I'm going to relax for the rest of the day, so don't come by unless it's necessary, alright?"

Aubrey simply stared, straight-lipped, before uttering, "Y...Yes, milady."

And then the door slammed shut.

Arabella's smile fell immediately and she stared at the door, a serious expression making its way onto her face. Only when she heard Aubrey's footsteps fade into the distance, did she deem it safe to get to work. Swiftly, she glided towards her desk, setting the stack of textbooks on the surface for later. With another cautious glance towards the door, she opened up the drawer and her nimble fingers worked to remove the false bottom.

Her journal was just as she remembered leaving it.

Delicately, she removed the journal from the desk and sat herself down before picking up a pen, "Where did I leave off..."

It was of the utmost importance that every detail Arabella could remember lined up correctly in her head; No matter how small or insignificant, it could help save her life. When she turned 16, Queen Frances had just passed and it was expected that as the only child, Cecil would soon ascend to the throne. Not long after, she had her social debut. That was where everything began to go wrong.

It was a disappointment in every way. Arabella didn't stand out at all among the others, her etiquette was less than stellar and it seemed as though her past governess had begun talking ill of her amongst high society so she already had a bad reputation. Yet, despite this, she had gained the attention of Prince Cecil and in return for the modicum of positive attention she received, she clung to him. He didn't turn her away or even try to dispel the growing rumours surrounding them. Instead, he played up his amicable persona and lured Arabella closer to his honey trap. So much so, she began to believe the rumours of a possible engagement between them. Just like that, she had become blinded to Cecil's true intentions.

Then, Alistair made his sudden reappearance. Arabella stayed on the sidelines as she watched the chaos ensue, as people flooded to prove that he was indeed the son of the late king and not an imposter stealing the identity of a dead child. She could hardly believe it when he was declared royal, even less so when he made a claim for the throne, but thought nothing of it since it didn't concern her. How wrong she was.

Cecil's mask had begun to slip upon Alistair's appearance and worsened every day since. With no current Monarch, it was left up to the royal council to select an official crown royal. Becoming King was no longer a guarantee for him, even if it was the most likely scenario. But that wasn't enough for Cecil, he wanted absolute control. He was no longer trying to pretend to care about her. But by then, she was desperately seeking his approval and blamed herself for his lack of interest. She just needed to work harder, she needed to be better.

So like the young fool she was, she confronted Alistair alone.

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The shining allure of the ballroom dimmed behind Arabella as she stepped out onto the balcony. Cold night air whipped at her body, though she ignored the shiver running down her spine to approach the object of her ire with a determined glare. She clenched her gloved hands and readied herself.

"I want to speak to you." Alistair didn't seem to hear her. He was leaning against the railing in silence, staring out into the vast expanse surrounding the palace and not even turning to face her. He was clearly testing her patience. Arabella scowled and stomped over toward him in her heels to grab his arm, "I said-"

"That you wanted to speak to me?" Alistair didn't fight against her grip on his sleeve, though he did turn and Arabella was taken aback by his expression. His violet eyes barely met hers, he seemed disconnected from the situation mentally. In response to her words, he simply nodded and closed his eyes in a resigned manner. "I'm listening."

Suddenly, Arabella felt as though she would be punching down and relinquished her grip on his sleeve with a hesitant motion. But she wasn't one to step down. This was for Cecil's sake. So instead, she held her ground and turned her nose up at him, "You should give up. There's no chance of you becoming King."

Alistair blinked once, twice and then to her surprise gave a resigned smile and rubbed a hand through his fluffy white hair, "... Well, you're not wrong." The young prince sighed and returned to leaning against the railing while crossing his arms while Arabella stared at him speechless. That response was the last thing she had expected. Alistair's resigned gaze suddenly became sharp and he sent a pointed look her way. "But unlike you, I at least know that I'm fighting a losing battle."

Baffled, Arabella raised a cautious brow, "What are you insinuating...?"

He seemed just as baffled as she was that she didn't understand and his stare made her grow self-conscious. He grew serious, "Sticking by him is no good. You'll just end up like me. Or worse."

"You..." Arabella wanted to argue against him, but a pit in her stomach stopped her. She didn't want to hear of such things but became unsure of herself. "What... What could you possibly know?"

"No one here is on your side, even I can see that," Alistair answered bluntly.

As much as Arabella wanted to argue, she couldn't deny that fact. Her fierce demeanour fell and she sighed annoyed that he was right in that sense. It wasn't a hidden fact that she was almost as much of an outcast here as he was. Defeated she threw her hands up annoyed and opted to stand by his side on the balcony, gripping the ledge and staring pointedly into the distance in silent surrender. A moment of quiet understanding passed between them, the pariahs of the ballroom. For the first time in a while, she felt an unspoken likemindedness. Arabella stared at him cautiously through the corner of her eye, "...Does that include you, too?"

She wasn't sure why she asked the question or what answer she was even expecting but held her breath as she waited for a response. Alistair continued to stare forward and shrugged, "I don't wish ill on you if that's what you're asking."

Arabella's hands clenched the ledge tighter and her brows furrowed in conflict, "...Likewise." This seemed to finally catch Alistair by surprise, going against what she had initially told him. She let herself ease up for the first time in a while and took a deep breath of cold night air before nonchalantly crossing her arms. She wanted to tell him how his words had made her think, but her pride overtook her and instead, she mustered a simple, "...You're annoying. But only because of circumstance."

Silence. And then Alistair burst into laughter, annoying her even further. He doubled over on the ledge, grinning as he snickered at the comment until he finally calmed down with an amused smile, "Ah, such whiplash." Despite being the same age, Arabella felt very small under his gaze and could no longer make herself face him. He wasn't at all like Cecil, but she hadn't decided if that was a good or bad thing yet. If Alistair was Cecil's enemy, then he would have to be hers too... Yet, she couldn't fully bring herself to think in such away.

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Alistair stepped away from the railing and slowly made his way back towards the ballroom, Arabella could not see his facial expression but before he left he warned with a tone of seriousness, "Be careful, Arabella Lockhart."

That was the first and last time she spoke to the elusive Alistar Aurum de Villiers.

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Arabella didn't realise the truth about Cecil until it was too late, even with Alistair's foreboding warning. And not long after their meeting, rumours began to spread that she was having a love affair with Alistair. People must have seen them speaking alone and nobles loved nothing more than baseless gossip. The young girl thought nothing of it, staying steadfast in her faith in Cecil's possible proposal. But she should have seen through his act. Why would royalty pursue companionship with an unpopular and controversial noble?

Her fate was sealed when she received a letter from Cecil calling her to the palace in secrecy in the dead of night, and without thinking, Arabella followed his instructions. Unease set in her stomach from the moment she stepped foot on the grounds, heightened even further when she was escorted by a single guard to the meeting spot. But once she was left alone in the gardens and ordered to wait, what she found was not Cecil. Alistair was lying dead on the ground.

Even now, everything after that moment flew by as a blur in Arabella's mind. One second she had rushed to check Alistair's cold corpse, crying for help and the next she was left in a state of shock when guards rushed the scene and arrested her on the spot. That was not the end of her misfortune.

Cecil had denied calling her to the palace and was believed. Every letter he had sent her including the meeting letter had 'disappeared'. The single guard who had led her to the spot had also mysteriously gone missing. Furthermore, the rumours surrounding Arabella and Alistair transcended speculation, painting her as a social climber trying to use both Alistair and Cecil for her own gains. That she had poisoned Alistair after he threatened to reveal the truth. Her case was not helped by the various love letters found that had apparently been sent between them, and the vials and books on poison found in her room. Everything pointed to her being the culprit. And there was nothing that Arabella could do to prove herself innocent.

Even with Layton and Olivia's intervention, the rushed trial had found Arabella guilty and her execution date was set. Even though she was the centre of the mess, Arabella could not bring herself to believe it. The speed at which everything had gone so wrong was too much for her mind to comprehend and she was left in a dumbfounded state, even as she was thrown into the cell she would call home for a year. Even as she began to count down the days in dread, she still had not made the connection between Cecil and her fate. Not until he visited her, weeks into her imprisonment.

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"W-Who's there..?"

Arabella's hoarse voice echoed around the dim cell, sore from her days of endless weeping. Reverberating footsteps put her on high alert. It was the first sound she had heard in a week, aside from the constant dripping water and rustling of chains. She forced herself to glimpse through the darkness until a familiar face came into view through the bars.

"Your highness...!" Arabella rushed forward, stumbling to her feet and wincing at the sensation of using her legs after so long. She clenched the bars of her cell and her eyes flooded with tears of relief. Someone was here for her, after all this time. Someone was here to help her. She choked out her next words of desperation. "Y-Your highness, tell them! Tell them I'm innocent, you know I'm innocent!"

Cecil's expression remained calm in spite of Arabella's frantic pleas. He studied her tear-filled expression carefully before waving a hand in dismissal to the two guards that had accompanied him, "Leave us be." Both uniformed men looked at each other in apprehension at Prince Cecil's words. He didn't even turn to them before folding his arms behind his back and sighing. "Let me remind you that even without a coronation, I am still your king. Follow my word as though it is Law."

With that they scurried out of the room, leaving only her and Cecil. Arabella let her tears fall as she reached a trembling hand through the bars towards him. Her shining beacon of hope in the pitch-black darkness was a mere few inches away from her, "Cecil... You have to free me from here..." Cecil calmly took her hand in his and Arabella's heart swelled when he stepped closer to the bars. He silently urged her to come in closer and she obliged, awaiting his next words. The words that would liberate her from her torment.

"It seems that you are a worthless bitch until the very end."

Arabella's eyes widened as though they burst from her head. The sharp comment that had left Cecil's mouth stung like a slap to the cheek... She couldn't have heard him correctly. Her isolation had to be playing tricks on her mind. After all, he was still holding her hand so gently. Stupidly, she gawked before forcing herself to speak, "H...Huh? What do you- ah!"

Arabella cried out in pain when her hand was abruptly squeezed in a bone-crushing grip. The pain shocked her back to alertness and she could hardly believe her eyes when she looked back at Cecil. A glint of cold amusement showed itself in his deep purple eyes and the ghost of a pleased smile graced his lips. She had never seen such an expression on his face before. It caused a shiver to run down her spine.

"You really haven't figured out what happened, by now?" Cecil's usual calm tone was nowhere to be found as his voice slowly began to rise in an attempt to force back sickening laughter. His mocking tone penetrated Arabella's willpower and he leaned in closer to cement his point. "If I still have to make it clear to you at this moment that I am the murderer you're looking for, then you are as stupid as you look."

Arabella could not respond. The air suddenly grew colder than she thought possible, as Cecil's confession slowly sank like a knife into her heart. The prince huffed to mock her when he finally released her hand from his crushing grip. Arabella dropped to her knees with it. The throbbing pain in her dirty hand could not compare to the twisting dread in her stomach. She suddenly felt as though she would throw up on the spot.

"Why..." Arabella's voice caught in her throat. She bit her chapped lips hard and felt hot tears begin to well in her eyes and wet her cheeks. Alistair's words flashed into her memory at that moment and she realised she already knew why. All of this so he could secure his spot as king... Instead, she sniffled, trying her best to hold back the violent sob threatening to surface. "W-Why... Why me...?"

She turned her head away when she noticed Cecil kneel to meet her on the ground and tilt his head with a slight smirk, "What? Do you think you're special? I could have done this to any other bumbling debutante..." He reached a hand through the bars and Arabella couldn't even bring herself to react as she sat there frozen in shock. Cecil grabbed her chin roughly and turned her head left and right as though to inspect her face. He smiled in satisfaction. "But this expression on your face right now. This pathetic, pitiful expression..." Arabella swallowed hard, trying her best to hold back her hot tears to no avail as they began to pool around where Cecil's fingers gripped her chin. It only caused him to grin harder. "...It makes me certain that I chose the right girl. You were a haughty bitch from the start. Breaking you down to nothing like this is better than any crown on my head."

Cecil took in her pathetic sight with a trained eye for a long while, listening to Arabella's wretched sobs until he grew bored and shoved her away from him. He stood, straightening his fine clothing and brushing back his straight blonde hair in a nonchalant fashion. He finally spared Arabella one more glance, revelling in how she trembled on the ground before turning on his heel. Leaving Arabella alone once more to suffer.

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The cruel memory ripped Arabella out of her reminiscence and right back to the present where her hands shook terribly and a cold sweat began to form on her skin. With a trembling sigh, she put down her pen and buried her face in her hands to take it all in. Just how wayward her life had become at the hands of one man. It didn't matter how much time would pass. She would never forget the pain inflicted on her by Cecil. And she would never forgive him for it. She was never perfect, but no one deserved what happened to her. No one but Cecil...

She picked up her pen.

Really, all she would have to do was avoid making herself stand out in any way and make sure she never so much as spared a glance at Alistair. Rejecting Cecil's flirtations would not be difficult with her memories of him. But deep down, surviving in such a way wouldn't satisfy her in the slightest after experiencing firsthand, Cecil's cruelty. He had the resources to craft false evidence and witnesses. If not her, it would be someone else. And Alistair would still be dead. Ultimately, she couldn't just survive and let him get what he wanted. She wanted to drag him down, lower than he dragged her. He would face her wrath no matter what.

Arabella paused, realising her gaze and grip on her pen had become so intense in her desire for revenge that the ink had begun to blot on the page. She yelped slightly in surprise and emitted a small chuckle to calm herself. She was getting ahead of herself. She could do nothing in this state. Currently, she was still as helpless as she was with the rope hanging around her neck.

In the end, this was never really about her. She died at the expense of covering up fratricide. With her as a failsafe, Cecil hardly had to lift a finger to get away with his crime. She's sure that her 'crime of passion' would have been the talk of noble society for years to come. Arabella sighed, raising the pen to her lips to absentmindedly chew on the metal end. Her teeth grated the cold metal in a way that dragged her out of her doomsday mindset.

She didn't have many options, to begin with... But her idea was risky. Yet, it was the only way for her to drag Cecile down in the way she wanted while ensuring her own safety in the end.

Her pen circled the paper in one confident and smooth motion. Arabella, eyed Alistair's circled name, frowning in thought. As he was, he was never a fair contender against Cecile for the throne. Not much was even known about him even after he returned. He had been the product of the late king's affair with a maid and after he was born, both entered the palace. Then without warning, both Alistair and his mother went missing, supposedly dying in a fire within a sectioned-off area of the palace. It went relatively unnoticed and uncommented due to neither ever appearing outside the palace, and the news of the King's passing overshadowed it. But their mere existence was a taboo topic for the following years. They were both presumed dead, despite the lack of remains. No one even bothered to look for them. She was young when it had happened and could barely remember a thing about it.

But, the important thing was that he was alive and most likely in hiding somewhere. And no matter how risky it would be, how impossible it seemed, she needed to find a way to meet with him.

A 14-year-old child can't go far by himself, and the Lockhart earldom is the closest to the capital. He wouldn't be foolish enough to stay in the capital but he wouldn't be bold enough to leave for the neighbouring kingdom with nothing to his name. The Lockhart Earldom would be the easiest and safest place for him to live for all that time... It also matches the time between his learning of the banquet and actually reaching the capital, it would have taken him at least a week to reach the capital anywhere else. Regardless, finding him in their earldom would be like a needle in a haystack. And even then she was using her intuition.

But perchance, if he was in the earldom he would need some sort of income to live. Her options for finding him would be the orphanage, the docks where young boys often found work or him being an apprentice of some kind. If she searches and manages to find him, she would need to move on to her next step as getting hold of him was only the start of this battle. She would need to be able to sponsor him in some way. Help him have a headstart and advantage with what she knew about the future. She needed to make sure that even with his status, he would be able to gain enough power to be an actual threat to Cecil...

And maybe, just maybe. Feeling indebted to her in some way, she would have a king on her side and Alistair would be able to offer protection to her and her family. Maybe he would be so thankful that he would let Arabella torture Cecil. A fitting reward. It would only take patience.

Satisfied she tore out the pages detailing her plan for her future knowledge and crumpled up the pages in order to prevent her ramblings from being found. Just where should she start? She needed to try and make herself a more difficult target for her own protection in this plan by improving her standing and reputation. She had all the time in the world thanks to this miracle and she would be sure to savour every second of it.

"Just wait for me, Alistair..."