Theodore stepped into the study. Victoria was there, shoulders tense, eyes tired. She stood in the middle of the room, looking at books, documents, whatever she could find.
Her eyes met his. Victoria's black and gray eyes resembled a storm, her black hair hanging beside her, touching the table.
She looked up. For the first time... Theodore sensed something different in her. Fear. She looked at him. "I-I don't know what I'm doing... What if... I'm wrong?" He looked at her. "Well, then we've got you. If you fall, we pick you up. That's what friends are for," he said.
She seemed to think for a moment. Victoria frowned then mouthed the words, "Friends..." Theodore nodded.
Then, she did probably the most unexpected thing for that moment, probably next to climbing the walls and flying. She approached him and held out her arms.
Theodore stepped forward and hugged her. He felt butterflies in his stomach. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hair smelled like roses, and she shivered. They stood in silence for a moment.
"I've never... I never thought anyone really cared," she whispered. Theodore said nothing. He just held her. "Well... Now I have you guys." She managed a soft smile.
Behind them, someone cleared their throat. Edmund said, "Um... Am I interrupting something?"
Theodore said something really smart like, "We were... Reading...?" Edmund stared at him, then said, "Heather and I, we came to tell you guys. They have tightened security around the prision cells. Our father is there."
Theo found himself looking for Heather. She emerged from the shadows, and attempted to smile. He could tell she had been there for a while. Victoria stepped forward, then ran with Edmund to check on what he said said. Heather and Theodore were left alone.
"Are you all right?" He asked. Heather nodded. "Yeah... I am. No, seriously it's nothing." Theodore looked at her. "Yeah, no more lies between us, right?" Heather looked down. "Of course," she said in a small voice.
That night, Heather met a feeling she had no name for yet. It was a heavy, suffocating pressure in her chest. Anger at the secrecy, grief for what she was losing, and a sharp, biting cold she would later learn to call jealousy.
If you've read up to here, please, just comment. This was an attempt of writing I did. I want to know your opinion.