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Two Princes

December 31

Happy New Year's Eve to you, my dear diary, my closest confidant and friend. It is my birthday tonight, when the clock chimes midnight and the ball drops, like every year, and Mother always said that even though she did not give birth to me, I was her New Year's baby, the greatest gift she received that year. This time of year especially, I miss her so much.

Father is as wrapped up in business as ever, and I suspect he is counting on Arthur to be the one to make my birthday special. My sisters are equally distracted, though I know they will at least bother to recognize the occasion when they rise in the morning. I know I should be happy for Father, and how the Liones Vineyards and Winery is so quickly expanding into the sort of powerhouse he always envisioned—and perhaps also I should be so grateful for his partnership with Arthur's father, and what that means for our family and for myself. But a daughter needs her father…and I miss the father he was before we became wealthy and influential.

As much as I might wish that he would not, I suppose his expectations are not misplaced, to depend on Arthur to take care of my birthday. Arthur is as sweet and kind as any young man, and even more so because with his family's money and connections, he is neither entitled nor arrogant. Father praises him highly, so often, and stresses what a good match it is. I guess he's still surprised—as was I—when Arthur displayed an interest in me rather than in Margaret. (I know she wasn't displeased, though, as wrapped up as she is in a romance with Gil.) Yes, he is wonderful…and I do look forward to whatever he may have in store for me. For us.

But… Elizabeth muses, staying the pen in her hand… There is no need to write the thought, nor to even finish it. The single, tiny "But" is enough.

Sighing, she closes her diary and secures the lock with the tiny silver key kept on a chain around her neck, and tucks the small book away in an inconspicuous place on her bookshelf. It blends in well; nobody's attention would ever be drawn to it, and that is exactly what she needs. After all, every girl is entitled to a secret. Or a few.

"Elizabeth?" A soft knock on the white bedroom door; Elizabeth quickly gets up and goes to pull it open.

"Come in, Margaret." She invites her sister to take a seat on the window cushion next to her, one slender leg tucked beneath her body, and she cuddles one of the throw pillows.

"Happy birthday, little sister." Margaret pulls her into a warm, lingering hug, and Elizabeth breathes in the perfume of her sister's long locks. It's the same shampoo their mother used to use, and it only brings Elizabeth to miss her more terribly.

"Thank you, M."

"I have something for you. Veronica helped me pick it out; she said the color would complement your eyes. It was Mother's." Margaret pulls a small box from the pocket of her house robe, and hands it to Elizabeth, who smooths her fingers over the soft velvet before opening it.

"Oh, Margaret… It's so beautiful." She lifts a ring from the slit in the velvet bed, and holds it toward the soft yellow glow from her bedside lamp. A rainbow of colors dances across the smooth surface of the opal, set daintily in rose gold, and Elizabeth tries it on every finger. It will only fit the fourth finger of her left hand, and Margaret chuckles. "Maybe people will think you're engaged. But Father will recognize the ring, and make sure you tell Arthur and his family that it was Mother's. To clarify."

Elizabeth nods, and cradles her left hand with her right, next to her heart. "Thank you so much, Margaret. I'll always wear it."

Her sister takes hold of her hand and examines how perfectly the ring decorates her delicate white finger. "You remember how much Mother loved opals, and how she loved you. I know she would have wanted you to have it."

The sisters hug one last time, before Margaret says goodnight and swishes away to her own bedroom; no doubt to talk on the phone with Gil until sunrise. Elizabeth closes the door after her sister's departure, and glances at the clock on her night table: 11:59. As soon as the numbers flash 12:00, midnight, her own phone chimes with the text message she expected: "I know you're still awake, and I want to be the first today to wish you a happy birthday. Margaret probably beat me to it, didn't she? I can't wait to spend your special day with you. Love, Arthur." Elizabeth smiles at the sincerity behind the text, and snuggles into bed for a few hours' pleasant dreams of opals and a Prince Charming…

Elizabeth never bothers to hope for a pleasant awakening on the morn of her birthday, and this year is no different: she is woken not by rays of sun gently streaming through the window, or by the mouthwatering scent of blueberry pancakes wafting up the mansion stairs, but by her second eldest sister, Veronica, leaping on top of her bed and pinning her beneath the down pillows and silk comforter.

"Happy birthday, Ellie!" Veronica shrieks, and Elizabeth clutches a pillow over her head to muffle the noise. Yes—never the most pleasant way to wake up, but probably payback for all those times Elizabeth woke Veronica up the same way—every birthday, every Christmas, and every other day of the year.

"Thank you, Veronica." Elizabeth gives in and wriggles out from underneath her sister just enough to pull herself into a sitting position in bed, where she allows herself the luxury of a morning yawn and stretch. "Where's Margaret?"

"Cooking blueberry pancakes, your favorite!" Veronica smiles. "She should just now be starting; I told her to wait until she heard me yell, so that I'd wake you up, and not the smell of food."

Elizabeth rolls her crystal blue eyes, and attempts to shove Veronica onto the floor, unsuccessfully, and her sister's bright brown eyes twinkle. "Come on!" She grabs Elizabeth's hand and tugs her out of bed, out the door, and down the stairs.

In the large, open kitchen, Margaret carefully butters a stack of blueberry pancakes, and pours syrup over it, just in time to place it in front of Elizabeth's usual barstool at the island. The two sisters exchange smiles, and Elizabeth quickly digs in, savoring the fluffiness on her tongue, the sweet tang of maple syrup, and the bursting blueberries. "Just like Mother's," she complimented Margaret.

Veronica helps herself to the barstool next to her younger sister. "So, what does Arthur have planned for you today?" She raises her eyebrows in suggestion, and Elizabeth nearly chokes on her pancakes, blushing furiously.

"Nothing like that, I'd imagine!" She washes down the bite with a sip of milk. "But I'm sure whatever he has planned today will be a surprise. Father seems to be counting on him to make my birthday special, after all."

"As if he could ever top how we make your birthday special!" Veronica chortles. Margaret merely smiles as she cleans up the kitchen, and joins her sisters with her own plate.

"Whatever it is, Elizabeth, Father would probably like to see you before you leave today. He said he would be in the wine cellar this morning, taking inventory, and meeting with a prospective new customer. You and Arthur should stop down there first."

Never one to run late, Elizabeth is just finishing getting ready by the time the doorbell rings downstairs. She knows it's Arthur even before Margaret opens the door, because he never keeps her waiting. They work together so fluidly, like a well-oiled machine, Elizabeth and Arthur.

"Elizabeth!"

"Coming!" She gives herself one last smile in the mirror. Perfect.

"Happy birthday, Elizabeth!" Just the top of Arthur's unruly, fiery red hair is visible behind the enormous bouquet of flowers in his arms, and she stifles a laugh as she descends the stairs. Veronica steps in to take the offering, and as soon as Arthur has been relieved of it, his gaze falls on Elizabeth and his jaw slackens. "You look… Wow."

"It's my birthday and I'll dress up if I want to!" She giggles, and he takes her by the hand and twirls her so that the short skirt of her dress flares above her knees, but carefully so that she does not trip in her high-heeled sandals.

"You look beautiful, Ellie," Veronica reassures her as she hands Elizabeth her khaki Burberry trench coat from the hall closet. "Take care of her, Arthur." He nods in response to her narrowed eyes.

"Don't forget to visit Father downstairs before you go!" Margaret calls, as Arthur helps Elizabeth into her coat and opens the front door for her.

"We can go in the back way."

Bartra Liones' wine cellar is his sanctuary, and the only place where he spends more time is in his office at the Vineyards and Winery proper, usually with a glass of red well within reach as he does his work. Elizabeth and her sisters rarely venture down into the depths of the cellar, but Elizabeth leads Arthur around the back of the mansion, to a set of double wooden doors currently unlocked, and he places a protective hand on the small of her back as she pulls open one of the doors and makes a way down the dimly lit steps inside.

"Father! Are you down here?" she calls into the darkness.

"Elizabeth, my dear! I'm in the '1900s Vintages' section!" Bartra's baritone floats back, and Elizabeth winds her way through the maze of wide aisles until she locates her father, and apparently the guest that Margaret had spoken of. Bartra is in the middle of pointing out and describing in great detail several different vintages from several different years, and Elizabeth and Arthur wait patiently nearby until he has paused to take a breath, and turns his attention to them.

"Elizabeth, happy birthday, my dear!" He embraces her fondly, but quickly releases her and catches Arthur's hand in a warm, firm shake. "Arthur, my boy! How are you? How is your father? When can I expect to see him again?"

"He has been preoccupied with business, sir, but intends to have another dinner party soon, and will be stopping by to discuss the menu and wine list." Arthur smiles proudly when he speaks of his father, Uther, and his booming success. In the short, quick conversation that ensues, Elizabeth's blue eyes wander over the stranger leaning lazily against a stone column, hands tucked into the pockets of beat-up jeans, eyes half-closed as though in boredom.

He is shorter than she, especially slouching like that, but his projected demeanor indicates that he is at least her age, if not somewhat older; none of the young men she and Arthur attend school with, save for Arthur himself, project such confidence. Long blond hair is very tousled—probably styled that way, as most other boys would do, but Elizabeth can't help but wonder if it's actually natural—this young man is not one who seems like he would be particularly interested in styling his hair whatsoever. As she studies the black T-shirt he wears beneath a worn leather jacket, deciding that his build must be toned without being overly muscular, deep emerald eyes flick in her direction, and she glances up to lock gazes with the stranger—letting out a gasp of surprise, and looking away as quickly as she can while her cheeks redden at being caught staring. She turns away and fidgets with one of the buttons on her coat, and tries to focus on the conversation her father and boyfriend are in the middle of, and Arthur glances her way and smiles. Bartra follows his gaze.

"Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry! This is a new patron of mine." He takes Arthur's arm and gestures toward the stranger, who casually steps away from the wall and reluctantly takes his gaze off Elizabeth. "This is Meliodas. His father has opened an esteemed tavern in town, and is looking to do business!" Bartra is hard-pressed to hide his excitement. "Meliodas, this is Arthur, the only son of one of my best customers."

"I told you, I own the tavern," the blond drawls, trying his hardest not to roll his green eyes. "Hey. Arthur, was it?" He disinterestedly shakes the hand that Arthur offers him. "And who is this?" His gaze returns to Elizabeth, still looking down and fidgeting with her coat.

"Elizabeth, don't be rude!" Bartra grips his daughter's arm and pulls her into the little circle the three men have made. "This is my youngest daughter, Elizabeth."

Arthur wraps a protective arm around Elizabeth's waist, as Meliodas' eyes travel up and down her in appreciation once more. "My girlfriend." His violet gaze cuts to Bartra. "We had better be off, Bartra; I have a full day planned for her birthday, and dinner reservations we don't want to miss!"

"Of course, of course." Bartra nods his head furiously, obviously grateful that Arthur has taken off his shoulders the burden of giving Elizabeth a full, special day.

"Happy birthday, Elizabeth." Meliodas' tone is quiet, his voice husky, and the blush on her cheeks deepens, as she stutters a response.

"Th-thank you, M-Meliodas." Inwardly she curses herself; why couldn't she at least seem confident, like Margaret would have been able to appear, or Veronica would have actually been? She takes a deep breath to steady her voice. "It has been a pleasure to meet you." She places a kiss on her father's cheek. "See you tonight, Father." And clasps hands with Arthur, and they take their leave together. Never noticing that Meliodas silently watches her go, until she is gone.