In Spades 5b/??
anonymous
October 16 2011, 17:44:36 UTC
“I know what you mean, Al.”
“Okay.” Alfred left Matthew in Daisy's care, hurrying off to find a cart he could hitch up to her somewhere in town.
*****
“Why did he leave me like this?” Matthew wondered after several long moments of inhaling the fragrant odor of leather saddle and horse. He pushed away from the horse, carefully easing himself to the grass. He lay back with a sigh, shielding his eyes from the sun; he hadn't had his daily medicine yet, and it was growing more noticeable.
But if Alfred really hadn't gone insane, then Matthew wouldn't be needing that medicine anymore, would he?
It was an impossible dream. The Queen wouldn't just invite Alfred and his family to move in and make use of all the amenities the palace had to offer just because he liked him. That was ridiculous.
So what was happening?
How would the Queen have even met Alfred? One lived in a luxurious palace, the other mucked around outside in said palace's stables. Perhaps the Queen liked to ride? That seemed likely. A friendship forged over a fondness for horses.
“Now I know I need my meds,” Matthew said, rubbing his eyes. “I'm starting to believe it.”
Sort of. He still couldn't really believe that he was going to be treated. He had been practically an invalid, utterly dependent on his brother, for five years. The thought of being healthy again was, well, beyond even his extensive imagination.
He could still remember the last time he had walked somewhere on his own, at the age of eleven. His sobbing brother, trying to mop their father's face with a damp cloth and feed their mother broth at the same time, had asked Matthew to pick up some medicine - not the medicine they still used, but a worthless thing believed at the time to be helpful. Matthew had rushed into town to buy it, unaware that he was carrying the same deadly illness within him. He had almost made it home before he collapsed, leaving poor Alfred to care for all three of them for the next couple weeks, until their parents finally succumbed. Matthew had been unconscious or delirious for most of the time; he could only imagine how horrible it was for Alfred, watching his parents die and assuming the same would happen to his twin.
And Alfred had devoted his life to caring for Matthew, despite the assumption that that would be forever. Matthew had never seriously contemplated suicide, but if he had, it would have been out of a desire to free his brother rather than himself.
“What do you think, horse?” Matthew said, still weakly covering his eyes. “Has he lost his mind? Did you guys kick him in the head one too many times?”
The horse was far more interested in the grass than answering him.
“What's the Queen like?” It was hard to tell. Matthew had read about him, of course, but every author had a different opinion. Some thought he was a spoiled brat, some thought he was a manipulative bastard, and others thought he was a decent and caring sort. Maybe a combination of all three? He supposed it didn't matter, it wasn't like they were going to be hanging out with the Queen on a regular basis.
By the time Alfred returned with a small cart, Matthew had curled up on the grass, sweating profusely in the sunlight. Alfred swore as he hurried close.
“That was dumb. I should have left you inside.” Alfred tugged Matthew out of the sun. “Or at least in the shade, huh?”
Matthew smiled weakly. “I think you should fix the medicine, Al, even if they'll take care of me once we get to the palace.”
“Right! I'll do that now.”
While the medicine was steeping, Alfred kept returning inside to fetch a few things he loaded onto the cart. Matthew had never really stopped to take inventory of their possessions - mostly acquired in the last week - but he couldn't help but notice that everything Alfred carried out belonged to Matthew.
“What about your things?” Matthew asked.
“Like what?” Alfred set a stack of books into the cart. Matthew could have sworn the horse was eyeing the cart apprehensively.
“Like... anything?” Surely he had purchased something for himself aside from food.
“Okay.” Alfred left Matthew in Daisy's care, hurrying off to find a cart he could hitch up to her somewhere in town.
*****
“Why did he leave me like this?” Matthew wondered after several long moments of inhaling the fragrant odor of leather saddle and horse. He pushed away from the horse, carefully easing himself to the grass. He lay back with a sigh, shielding his eyes from the sun; he hadn't had his daily medicine yet, and it was growing more noticeable.
But if Alfred really hadn't gone insane, then Matthew wouldn't be needing that medicine anymore, would he?
It was an impossible dream. The Queen wouldn't just invite Alfred and his family to move in and make use of all the amenities the palace had to offer just because he liked him. That was ridiculous.
So what was happening?
How would the Queen have even met Alfred? One lived in a luxurious palace, the other mucked around outside in said palace's stables. Perhaps the Queen liked to ride? That seemed likely. A friendship forged over a fondness for horses.
“Now I know I need my meds,” Matthew said, rubbing his eyes. “I'm starting to believe it.”
Sort of. He still couldn't really believe that he was going to be treated. He had been practically an invalid, utterly dependent on his brother, for five years. The thought of being healthy again was, well, beyond even his extensive imagination.
He could still remember the last time he had walked somewhere on his own, at the age of eleven. His sobbing brother, trying to mop their father's face with a damp cloth and feed their mother broth at the same time, had asked Matthew to pick up some medicine - not the medicine they still used, but a worthless thing believed at the time to be helpful. Matthew had rushed into town to buy it, unaware that he was carrying the same deadly illness within him. He had almost made it home before he collapsed, leaving poor Alfred to care for all three of them for the next couple weeks, until their parents finally succumbed. Matthew had been unconscious or delirious for most of the time; he could only imagine how horrible it was for Alfred, watching his parents die and assuming the same would happen to his twin.
And Alfred had devoted his life to caring for Matthew, despite the assumption that that would be forever. Matthew had never seriously contemplated suicide, but if he had, it would have been out of a desire to free his brother rather than himself.
“What do you think, horse?” Matthew said, still weakly covering his eyes. “Has he lost his mind? Did you guys kick him in the head one too many times?”
The horse was far more interested in the grass than answering him.
“What's the Queen like?” It was hard to tell. Matthew had read about him, of course, but every author had a different opinion. Some thought he was a spoiled brat, some thought he was a manipulative bastard, and others thought he was a decent and caring sort. Maybe a combination of all three? He supposed it didn't matter, it wasn't like they were going to be hanging out with the Queen on a regular basis.
By the time Alfred returned with a small cart, Matthew had curled up on the grass, sweating profusely in the sunlight. Alfred swore as he hurried close.
“That was dumb. I should have left you inside.” Alfred tugged Matthew out of the sun. “Or at least in the shade, huh?”
Matthew smiled weakly. “I think you should fix the medicine, Al, even if they'll take care of me once we get to the palace.”
“Right! I'll do that now.”
While the medicine was steeping, Alfred kept returning inside to fetch a few things he loaded onto the cart. Matthew had never really stopped to take inventory of their possessions - mostly acquired in the last week - but he couldn't help but notice that everything Alfred carried out belonged to Matthew.
“What about your things?” Matthew asked.
“Like what?” Alfred set a stack of books into the cart. Matthew could have sworn the horse was eyeing the cart apprehensively.
“Like... anything?” Surely he had purchased something for himself aside from food.
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