PeaceMaker

Mr. Crowly looked at the small box in Alice's hand and then turns away to Mrs. Crowly. "Where to next?" He asked. 

Mrs. Crowly didn't turn her head to him, it had been that way for the past day. "The king has graciously granted us a room in the castle but for now, since he hasn't arrived, we agreed to meet in the waiting house. As to where that is, I'm sure you know."

Of course, he knew, he had to know, he was the infamous Mr. Crowly. A great geographer of his time who memorized maps the first time he reads them and can lead you places off the map as long as he's toured that area once. Didn't mean he liked to direct though, especially not on days where he doesn't need to be directing or before he's supposed to lead someone more significant or when he could have reached that area without doing it himself. His closest friends knew that, his children knew that, and definitely his wife knew that, but yet…

"Couldn't we have gotten there by the carriage?" Mr. Crowly asked. 

The ears of the carriage man, who still hadn't left, perked up at the chance of getting more money. 

"I'm sure there might be some roads that would be too small for a carriage to go through," Mrs. Crowly replied. 

"There are none ma'am," The carriage man replied. 

Mr. Crowly didn't need to be told that, he knew that himself. 

"I thought you would want the honor of touring us," Mrs. Crowly responded. 

She was mocking him, Mr. Crowly knew that. As to why, he was completely oblivious to. 

"No, I wouldn't," Mr. Crowly retorted. His tone rose slightly as it started to bother him how he had yet to see her face once in their conversation. 

"Hm.. well there are two options left," Mrs. Crowly shrugged. She didn't even need to ask the question as she already knew her husband knew them. She also already knew the answer and she bit back a laugh when he replied.

"Let's get back on the carriage," Mr. Crowly sighed, turning away with annoyance when he saw the smile on the coachman's face. 

Mrs. Crowly didn't utter a word as she walked past Mr. Crowly. If it wasn't apparent back in the carriage or the day before, it was apparent now. She was purposefully annoying him, digging under his skin with petty actions and then not showing a hint of remorse. 

'What did I do wrong? It isn't like her to act this way…' thought Mr. Crowly. 

His wife had never been one for petty actions or unnecessary statements when she already knew the other person wouldn't like or appreciate what she did. She would never step over the line she had drawn with somebody. Now, she was stepping all over it. 

He shot her glancing of both warnings and concern and she returned none of them but simply faced the front of the carriage. He clenched his jaw. 

Again they loaded the carriage and began on another quiet travel, Alice's head bobbing up and down as she slipped in and out of sleep. 

*

Finally, after a stifling ride, they arrived at the waiting room for the visitors going to the castle and loaded their stuff into the room. After a rush of movement, they stood in the halls of the waiting room, their eyes scanning the halls of the place as the servants in the building carried their bags to their room. 

"Why do we have rooms here?" Mr. Crowly asked, his eyes turning to his wife. It was his 5th attempt that hour to get her to see him. It didn't work.

"This is where we will be staying while we visit the palace," Mrs. Crowly replied, her head still stuck straightforwardly.

"We aren't allowed in the palace? To rest?" Mr. Crowly asked.

"No, you received a letter informing you about that," Mrs. Crowly replied.

Mr. Crowly searched his memory for the letter. It was in the same place his wife had placed it after opening it. He hadn't opened it, but she had. He turned to his wife, she never told him the contents of the letter. 

"Will the servants be resting in a different place than here?" Annabeth muttered. She directed the question to no one but knew who would answer it.

"They will be staying in the servant's house, which is behind this one," Mrs. Crowly answered. Behind her, her husband flinched. He had opened his mouth to answer the question but it shut slowly when he realized he didn't know the formation of the building. 

His eyes turned to his wife again. All that information would have been in the letter. He once again clenched his jaw, he hated being the clueless one. She knew that too. 

It took them an hour to get settled, each to their own respective room, each behind their own respective doors. It was there that he decided to bring it up. 

"What is going on with you?" He muttered as he flipped through a magazine. 

He was seated at a desk in a very luxurious large room. A round oriental rug laid in the middle of the room in a deep shade of maroon. On white walls hung in ornately carved frames were paintings of which they were informed were made by the best artists in the city. The bed was also made of one of the finest materials, it's sheets soft to the touch and a comfy mattress to match. Everything in the room seemed to be made with advanced craftsmanship, granted a large price tag, and then placed in this room. 

Even the chair in the room, despite being made of some expensive wood, was not at the least bit uncomfortable. That was, if he subtracted the air of hostility in the room. She once again hadn't responded. His jaw clenched again.

"Would you answer me?!" Mr. Crowly snapped, his voice rising at his wife.

She stopped moving her fingering for a moment and raised her eyebrow then turned back to sewing her clothing.

Mr. Crowly flinched and let out a deep breath. He had yelled at her, her expression showed that it was not ok. 

"Sigh, Elanor, please look at me," Mr. Crowly pleaded.

Mrs. Crowly twitched. It had been a while since he called her that. Slowly she looked up from her dress and locked her gaze on her husband. "What is it?"

Mr. Crowly sighed, "What do you mean what is it?"

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her dress, "I'll be going back to my clothing now," 

"Why have you been avoiding me this entire day," he groaned, pressing his finger into his temple.

"Last I remembered, I never once avoided you. I sat beside you on the carriage, walked beside you in the hallway, and talked to you," Mrs. Crowly looked up at him, "are you sure you aren't mistaken?"

Mr. Crowly pressed his lips against each other while keeping firm eye contact with his wife. She had once again done it. He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back into his chair. It wasn't avoiding that she was doing but in fact much worse. Avoiding would have been better, that way he would know he did something wrong the moment he noticed it. 

He peered into her brown eyes for a moment, as if trying to read through her mind. Nothing, it was blank. He was no longer concerned, now he was scared. 

"What did I do?" He asked.

She didn't even flinch at his question, she was expecting it. She put on the smile she had prepared along with her answer, "You did nothing wrong. Today was a stressful day for us all, you did amazing dealing with it."

Mr. Crowly groaned, he wasn't buying her lie. He knew that she was annoyed but he didn't know what was wrong and to what extent but for her to display it… it was another level of wrong he had done.

"Can you please just tell me? Did I leave behind some outfits you would have liked? Forget to do something for you? Is it your birthday… no that's in November… maybe one of our close friend's birthdays?" Mr. Crowly pressed, desperately trying to find out what the issue was. Judging by her blank replies, it was none of those. 

"It's nothing," Mrs. Crowly smiled, turning back to her dress. 

'There it was again,' Mr. Crowly thought to himself as he repeated her words in his mind. 'It's like she's purposely trying to negatively-affect my mood with her words. Never saying too much, never saying too little, just little drops of things that I hate the most in her speech and actions.' 

Mrs. Crowly looked up at the clock on the wall and slowly lifted the dress off her lap and placed it gently on her mattress. 

"It's time for an evening tea, would you like to meet in the kitchen for some tea and biscuits?" She asked as she dusted her dress and began to walk towards the door. 

Mr. Crowly froze for a moment in thought before nodding head briefly. "I would love to."

She simply nodded her head in reply, waiting a bit for him to walk towards the door and then opened the door and began to leave. Mr. Crowly stared at her, she hadn't put her hand through his arm.

"Elanor," He called out, stopping her in her tracks. 

She stayed forward, her back to him. "Yes?"

"Your hand," Mr. Crowly asked, looking down at his.

"Hm?"

He let out his hand and glanced at her. A glimmer of emotion he wouldn't see flashed on her face.

"Ah…" Mrs. Crowly muttered, her fingers twitching to roll up into a fist, "my hand feels a bit tired today. If you don't mind, I'd like to keep it by my side."

Mr. Crowly's face turned a bit crestfallen. "Elanor… did I-"

"You did nothing wrong," Mrs. Crowly interrupted, her fingers bunching up into a fist, "I'm just a little bit worn out today." 

"Ah… ok," Mr. Crowly replied in defeat. He put on a strained smile, "It'll get better tomorrow."

"Yes," Mrs. Crowly nodded, "it will."

In front of her, Annabeth strolled past and caught a glimpse of her mother's face.. It was disgust.