There are certain themes that Sedgewick had found tended to repeat throughout his life, and people demanding he answer his door while drunk and heartbroken seemed to be among them.

The pounding on the wooden frame was matched only by the pounding of his head. Sedgewick blinked blearily from his spot one his settee and groaned. No—no noises, no people today, he decided before curling back up and clinging to his cat again. Telemachus licked a rough tongue over his tear-streaked cheeks and tolerated the affection.

He'd been curled up here since Feyla had—had left him. Left him all alone and ran back to the healers.

The pounding started again. Stupid people.

"Don't—don't need 'er 'Lemachus." He sniffled and reached toward the nearly-empty bottle on the table. The location of the glass was long drowned in wine and he was hoping that by the time he finished this bottle, he'd have forgotten what it felt like to drown in her sea-shade eyes as well.

"Stupid, pretty eyes, ought be a law 'gainst 'em!" he argued to Telemachus before tipping the bottle back and savoring the memory of them. The liquid slipped down his throat smoothly. "Can't just go around making feelings an' coffee. I didn't wanna love her. I—I..."

Sedgewick's gaze fell on the stack of little bits of paper on top of the table near his settee. Notes, cards, old theatre tickets, all things he'd saved in secret. He'd read over them again and again while drinking and waiting for Feyla to arrive, hunting for some sign that he'd missed, some hint that her love was less-than-true and had been all along.

Tears. Again with the tears. Pain, a familiar kind, rose in his chest again and threatened to swallow him whole, heart and soul. Sedgewick quickly finished off the bottle before it could. The buzz he'd slept partially away was kicking in again, pleasantly numbing the stupid pounding of the door and the stupider voices calling through.

"—Know you're in there!"

"Let me try..."

"—Have work to do!"

"Wait, I think I have a key..."

Sedgewick growled, clinging to his cat and his empty bottle before sticking his head into a hard decorative pillow. A click of a lock sounded, making his ears snap to attention. If he hadn't already been drinking then the voices that entered his home would have made him start.

Sedgewick cracked his eyes open enough to glare at Lord Beryn now standing in front of the settee. The taller, younger, handsomer, stupider lord wrinkled his nose as only someone of noble blood could. "What happened? You look horrible and you weren't starting at the best."

"You smell horrible too," Sandrina added as she emerged from behind Beryn.

"Hate you both." Sedgewick buried his head back in the pillow and began pawing at the ground for another bottle. Just as his fingers grazed glass, someone snatched his current comfort away.

Beryn pinched the sticky bottle between two fingers and handed it to Sandrina like it was diseased. He knelt beside Sedgewick, looked at him with compassion...and then smacked him on the cheek. "Sit up and tell me how you blew it."

"Don't want to..."

"She's a ridiculously forgiving woman; I'll give you some grand gesture ideas and you two will be skipping off into the sunset in no time."

"Won't work."

"Of course it will. These are my ideas we're talking about." He paused, considering something. "If you've failed that spectacularly then I could set you up with someone else but you will really have to lower your standards."

"Told her to leave."

Beryn blink. Even Sandrina looked confused. "Pardon?" he asked.

Sedgewick finally jerked himself upright. He pressed Telemachus into his chest and sniffled. "I told 'er to leave me."

"Oh, thank the Creator," Sandrina sighed in relief.

Beryn gave her a cool smile. "No. No, no that's the stupidest thing he's ever done. Have you lost your mind?" he shouted at Sedgewick at the end.

"Everbloom was a traitor and a distraction!"

Everbloom. Fitting name. She did act like a creature always in its full flush of life. Pressure built behind his eyes. Sedgewick took the opportunity to reach for a third bottle they hadn't noticed yet.

"Feyla's a wonderful woman. Besides, look at him, he's a mess without her and— Give me that," Beryn snapped. He reached to take the bottle away.

Sedgewick released Telemachus and blocked Beryn's arm with one hand while holding the bottle out of reach. Unfortunately, the movement proved too much for his limited coordination. He slipped from the edge of the seat and plopped to the ground. Red wine splattered out of the bottle. Sedgewick stared down at the stain on his shirt in confusion. How'd that gotten there?

A red droplet dribbled from his matching hair onto the shirt. Red. Feyla liked his red hair. He had just begun pondering if dumping wine on his hair and making it even redder would make Feyla love him when Beryn finally managed to snatch the bottle away.

"You are interrupting my intervention. Now, as your only friend, I demand you explain why you dumped the love of your life."

Sedgewick's hand slumped against the table. He nabbed a random bit of paper and stared at it. What pretty handwriting she had.

My Sedgewick,

I know I've already said it but I'm repeating it again. Please be careful on your trip and save some of the wizards for the other mages. Come back to me quickly because I'll miss you every minute. I'll be waiting here with Telemachus and I expect to be given two kisses for every one that you're making me miss now. Don't forget me while you're gone!

Every bit of my love,

Feyla

Sedgewick stared at the note. The weight on his chest dropped to his stomach and he felt much soberer than he wanted to be. A sound escaped his throat that seemed dangerously close to blubbering.

"Alverdyne?"

She'd said she loved him. Did she mean it? Had she meant it? Did it matter?

"Oh, don't be like this. Talk to me!"

The pressure behind his eyes grew to match the strength of the pain clawing at his stomach. Sedgewick tried to swallow it down like he always did. Crying made him weak and stupid, a useless, emotional fool and some still-sober part of his brain cringed at the thought of Beryn and Sandrina seeing him like this.

His eyes sunk to the note again. "Every bit of my love..."

That did it.

"She didn't mean it!" he cried out hoarsely before bursting into tears. Sedgewick curled his legs up and leaned his head against them. Tears splashed against his glasses, blurring his view of the note still in his hands. "Said she loved me then used me, I—I thought she'd stay but she didn't. Should've known. No one stays w'ith Swedgick. I'm always 'lone..."

Sedgewick jerked his head up and practically snarled at Beryn and Sandrina, his embarrassment temporarily forgotten. "Didn't wanna love her; she made me and all I wanted was to get married and buy a house and let 'er pick ugly floral curtains and have all sorts of babies with her pretty eyes. But she's running back to her mother and those stupid healers. All her pretty promises were lies! Unbecoming lies!"

Sedgewick half rose, his steps firmed by rage. "An' I know why you're here, S'drina. The healers or hellgates can take the Carrows for all I care 'cause I'm taking a sick day."

And with that, he gave them a short clipped nodded before grabbing the bottle out of a shocked Beryn's hand and collapsing back onto the settee.

They both stared at him. Beryn closed his now empty fingers and for once seemed at a loss for words. Sandrina and he exchanged a glance.

"I'm scrying the Archmage," she declared, spinning around to leave the room.

Contrary to what Beryn believed, Sedgewick did have more than one friend. Unfortunately, Tamara the Archmage wouldn't hesitate to deliver an "I told you so" upon discovering that Sedgewick had run off and gotten his heart broken again despite her warnings.

Sedgewick's hand shot out, magic instinctively rising in his veins. The door of his quarters glowed orange and locked with a snap. He raised his head and practically growled, "No one calls Tamara."

Sandrina froze and had the good sense to stay where she was.

Beryn rubbed his temple. "I'm trying to understand this tangled web of yours."

"Everbloom has been feeding the healers information about our search for the Carrows," Sandrina explained. "Why, I don't know but—"

"Her mother's threatening to disown her over me," Sedgewick muttered into his pillow. "So she's been off throwing herself in front of wizard blasts an' letting that healer tosser, old betrothed of hers paw at her waist an' seduce her from me." He crumpled the pillow between his hands, squeezing until his already-pale knuckles bordered on translucent. "He can have 'er. Hope she stabs him in the back too."

"Wait, Daydrel Elyssgrow is her old betrothed?"

"You knew of the man from before me?!"

"Technically, he was the man before me." Beryn gave an elegant shrug of his broad shoulders. "She used to rant about him when we were together. You're over-estimating the danger there." He knelt beside Sedgewick and poked him in the shoulder instead of slapping him. "She adores you, Alverdyne."

Sandrina snorted and Sedgewick's wasn't far behind. "Not enough to keep 'er from betraying me just to stay her mother's good graces."

A pained grimace twisted across Beryn's face before he smoothed it down into cool anger. He grabbed Sedgewick by the shoulder and hauled him up straight. "Listen Alverdyne, it sounds like Feyla messed up but if you think that she would do something like this 'just' to keep her mother from disowning her then I don't believe you understand all that entails."

"Maybe it's because you're a mage or because you weren't born here. Or it could be due to the fact that I still struggle believing you had parents instead of being made via a leyline popping you out, but getting your name stripped by your mother or father is a big deal."

Beryn released him. The young lord rubbed the back of his neck, looking more like a shamed schoolboy than the leader of Abreyla's richest and most powerful territory. " I'm not saying what she did was right but I understand it. Not everyone can cope with that kind of...pressure. Abandoning your family and the future you always believed you would have? Informing the world that your family doesn't want you every time you introduce yourself? Not passing down a legacy to your children? That's a lot to ask of someone."

Through the cloudiness of his mind, some of Beryn's words penetrated. Maybe he had been dismissive of what he was asking of Feyla. The memory of her nervous panic whenever her mother was mentioned and her determination to get Arilla to like him felt more desperate when overlaid with Beryn's reproof. But even that didn't change the fact that she'd lied to him. No matter her reasons, the woman he called "Dearest" had lied and betrayed him while working to harm his Magic Ministry.

A vision swam before his eyes. Feyla dressed in healer white and looking as radiant as an eleynir, a divine helper. Feyla leaping into action, not to save him like the last time she'd donned that garb, but to aid That Healer. Feyla not drawing closer but leaving him instead.

Sedgewick blinked away the image and found himself staring at the bottle still in his grip. He swiftly raised it to his lips.

Sandrina smacked it out of his hands. "What the gates is wrong with you? This is pathetic. You are Sedgewick Alverdyne! Minister of Magic, high council member of the Ivory Tower. You defeated the Wizard of Crathos! The Blood Witch of Ivyburrow and the Hellmony Sisters!"

Sandrina's voice rose in volume and she grabbed his shoulders to shake him. "You took out an entire prison tower's worth of mages and guardsmen nearly single-handedly. You're the leading expert in the translation of First Age texts and the study of Pure Magic, among all sorts of other research accolades. You are the only mage I've met who can go spell-to-spell against the Archmage herself—Bright Lady aid her—and you are not allowed to fall into a drunken, pathetic heap when there's a wizard out there who needs blasting. Now if you need Everbloom that badly then you are going to get up, get sober, march over to that healing house, and remind her exactly who you are and what she's losing so we can all move on to more important things. Have I made myself clear?"

Before Sedgewick could answer, the door of his quarters unlocked again. His head snapped to the door. Feyla had a key and the thought of her seeing him weepy and drunk over her heated his face more than the wine had.

The second—no, the third-worst person to see him in this state walked through the door instead. Her husband would have been slightly worse. Eleyna paused at the doorway to remove her key from his lock. She swept into the room, her dress skimming the scattered papers and splattered wine as she went. "Well said, Master Sandrina." She spared the mage a glance and then nodded at Beryn. "Cousin."

"Dear cousin," Beryn answered. "Thank you for coming to our little intervention."

Eleyna's lips tilted up slightly but the movement vanished when she finally met Sedgewick's eyes. "Sir."

"Taking a sick day."

"I saw your request and as your queen, have elected to ignore it." She removed a small vial from the gold sash at her waist and placed it on the table firmly. "I took the liberty of contacting the Archmage—which you know I dislike—for her sobriety potion recipe. You are free to express your thanks at a later time. Also, Tamara says 'I told you so, you idiot'. Now drink it."

Sedgewick glared at his basically-a-daughter. Little imp.

Eleyna folded her hands in from of her and waited like there was no doubt that he would comply. Sadly, she was right. He popped the top off the vial and downed it in one gulp. It burned down every inch of his throat and practically burst into an inferno when it hit his stomach. As a side effect, it also burnt away the cloudy haze of wine coating his brain.

He stared at the ground for a while, ignoring the three figures craning over him. Beryn's and Sandrina's words echoed around his head and he used their distraction to shove the ache that grew with every heartbeat down. Sedgewick sighed. He looked down at the old note from Feyla still wrapped in his hand and shoved it into his pocket. "I hate it when someone other than me is right."

Telemachus rubbed against his leg. Sedgewick scratched him between the ears. "Sandrina, meet me in front of the Ministry courtyard in three hours. Be prepared for a fight."

"What will you be doing until then?" she asked, eyeing the unfinished wine bottle with suspicion.

Sedgewick rose slowly and tugged his shirt straight. His hat flew to his hand. "I'm going to go talk to my betrothed."

*******************

Author's Note: Finally finished! It's been a slow couple of weeks for writing but I finally found my stride yesterday and today and managed to still get this out! I hope everyone enjoys it! I know some of you have been waiting for the Drunk!Sedgewick chapter, haha. Will Sedgewick get to talk to Feyla? What's Desden been up to? How will Feyla manage to keep Dormaeus away from everyone?

I debated so many different songs for this chapter but finally went with this one that I thought fit the chapter the best. It's beautiful and perfect for Sedgewick right now.

Here's the songs that almost made the cut (they're all angsty, remind me of Sedgewick, and are worth a listen):

The Caleb Hyles cover of Miserable at Best (I don't care for the original but this cover was what I first listen to when brainstorming the story last year so it gets top billing).

Wasted Love by Matt McAndrew

Working It Out by James Blunt

I'll Never Love Again (extended version) by Lady Gaga (thanks for causing me pain with that recommendation mahana258  )

Let me know if you think any of these fit better! Thanks for reading, everyone. I'm still working out some future stuff but I'm excited about what's to come (in the most evil of authorly ways).