Chapter Text
‘This place truly hasn’t changed much,’ Athanasia noted with a hint of nostalgia. Now that she had mostly cleared her head, the sight of this palace before she was hit with the wish, the longing, the obsession (because that’s what it was, in the end) of gaining the Emperor’s affections made her feel safe.
It was familiar, and there was no chance of her father coming by— he had always avoided the Ruby Palace, perhaps because of something Athanasia’s mother did to displease him. Though, she could hardly imagine it, with the fairytale-esque stories Lily had spoken about on Athanasia’s worst days.
(Though, distantly, she thinks, it was sometimes like he’d forgotten that the Ruby Palace even existed, at points.
But that’s impossible, because no matter how large–how does one forget an entire area of his own residence?)
Athanasia paused and shook her head. It was likely just to avoid her, the child he’d never wanted. A way to spite her, perhaps, for being clingy and not enough. The Emperor had always had a temper for anybody but the second imperial princess.
That’s fine with her now. She has Lily, and he can have Jennette when she comes to the royal debutante ball 12 years in the future. It’d be nice to see her again, anyways, without that bitterness clouding her eyes.
(They had always had the same wish, after all.)
“Princess? Are you up?” Lily called through the door, a short knock at her door, the same as she always had. “Mhm, yes, I’m awake, Lilwy.”
The door opened, and the brunette came through, smiling softly. “My, my princess has been so grown up lately,” she murmured, lifting Athanasia from her bed, “Not that it’s a bad thing, but the princess can stay a child a little longer, right?”
Her heart throbbed. “...Mhm, I— Athy knows, Lily.” She really did. But she doesn’t know how to be like a child; Athanasia can’t remember the last time she allowed herself not to be the perfect heiress, student, daughter, sister, teacher, or even just perfect in general. They always saw her faults, even when she followed things to the letter, but the less ammunition she gave them, the less they could shoot her fragile heart. It’s been years and years for her, and she’s left it behind.
Even for Lily, Athanasia doesn’t know if she would be able to.
“Alright, princess. I just worry.” A chair, a dresser, a mirror, and her dull appearance being reflected. Lily opens a drawer, and she takes out a brush along with various other accessories. She doesn’t remember them. Stolen, most likely.
The maid hums, the sound echoing through the room, and Athanasia waits patiently for Lily to be done. “There,” she announced after a few minutes. The princess opened her eyes, and her hair is pulled into two low buns, decorated neatly. It’s pretty. It’s almost like—
It’s okay.
“It looks perfect, Lily.”
(She looks and looks, but somehow, she can’t seem to feel any familiarity with the girl being reflected in the mirror.)
———
Athanasia has taken to walking around the palace more often— something she didn’t do previously, due to the way she was raised (had not been raised at all, really) to see younger herself: lower than the maids. Out of sight, not heard, and not causing trouble would be better. In a way, it’s still true. Keeping out of sight of the Emperor would be best.
Considering her luck (or lack thereof), their second-first meeting would somehow go worse than the one that exists only in her memories. Keeping that as their only first meeting would be the best option. And so, it was the option she would take.
(No matter how much her heart aches at the thought.)
“—uch a bother.”
Athanasia stops in her tracks.
“I mean, we’re more like princesses than that girl. Just because of who she was born to and the fact that the Emperor was gracious enough to let her live, we have to bow down to someone like that.”
“Just because she’s his only child. Well, it’s not like she has any real power here.”
“He doesn’t even ask about it, let alone visit this palace.”
“Could you even call this a palace? When was the last time this place had repairs done? Even my—”
“—Princess!”
The chatter abruptly cuts off.
It's to be expected. A forgotten princess is still of a higher status than a daughter of a noble clinging to their title.
(Still, their eyes remind her of–)
“...Hello, Miss Basset. I’m afraid I don’t know your friends here. Would you be so kind as to introduce them?”
It’s not a lie. Athanasia really doesn’t remember their names. Wave after wave of dismissive maids have blurred them together, only a few kind ones remaining in her memory.
“Marie—” one of the maids hissed, glancing nervously between the princess and her own feet. She doesn’t understand why she’s so nervous when she knows— knows that this two-year-old is a princess only in title. And yet, somehow, she feels shame bubbling under her skin, looking at this two-year-old princess, who never asked for them, or for her father to be the man that he is.
“...This is Cecilia, Princess,” said Miss Basset, at last, gesturing towards a woman with dark brown hair that almost had a purple tint in the light, “and this is Hannah, of Laffitte.”
Laffitte, hm?
Formerly a count’s household, if she remembers the records correctly. They had fallen around a year before her birth— they had simply run out of funds, in a sense that if continued, it would harm Obelia’s economy in the long term, due to the fact that their citizens could no longer pay the excessive taxes. Their territory had been seized by the crown— a fair chunk of land.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, you two, Miss Cecilia, Miss Hannah.” Tilting her head forward and downward and lifting the edges of her dress, Athanasia smiled politely. “I appreciate what you’ve done for this castle.”
Although she knew that it was simply a means to an end— to ensure that they could afford to live and even though they had slacked on their duty of ensuring her health, the emperor was at fault for not monitoring her situation. More maids stayed for far longer than anyone else should’ve, in the conditions the Ruby Palace was in and the meek way she had acted previously wasn’t anything a servant could be proud of serving under.
Even if he did not care for her, he should have noticed the difference in funds of the maids’ families when they appeared in the palace in jewelry they should not have been able to afford without outrageous taxes and yet no word of any rebellion was heard.
(She did not acknowledge the fact that she had no reason to be proud of the fact she was a princess, did not even realize her name was not ‘princess’ until she was five years old. Did not think about the fact that she could read more at three than was average without all of these memories and understood far more complicated things because of careless books being left scattered about. She only did not speak or act on her knowledge because there hadn’t been anyone to speak or act to. Lily had never required it, and the maids would have lashed out had she acted ‘of her station’ without the experiences to soften the indignity.)
A spike of guilt gripped the two maids’ hearts at their princess’s soft smile.
Three years old, with baby fat still on her cheeks, visible scratches from when they had left her to struggle to reach items she needed that they had purposefully placed just out of her reach. That they understood the child was kind enough to not want the busy Miss Lilian to have to assist her when it was only just an inconvenience to herself.
Something had changed, in this tiny princess, but some things, important facts of life, had stayed the same.
(They could just see it now.)
They swallow uncomfortably, and— “What did you need, princess?” Cecilia asked.
(Subconsciously, subtly, Athanasia is making changes. Things that were not before are becoming reality now. They are simple things— a form of address that had never been used except in times of mockery or in front of Miss Lilian. A tentative respect nobody notices, but is so significant for something so small.)
---------
‘How is the princess?’ Lily worries. Her little princess Athanasia had always been well behaved. Quiet, in a meek sort of way that Lilian regrets and wishes she could have prevented, but she had resigned herself to giving reassurances to the princess who should’ve had it all from the start.
And yet, in the past week, something had changed in her tiny princess.
Oh, it’s still the princess— her soft spoken girl who loves and loves (and whom she adores in turn), but in an instant Lily hadn’t been there for, the princess had gained a resolve. Lily loves that jeweled-eyed princess with all of her heart, but she couldn’t deny that she had no real will. She learned, but only because Lily prompted her.
An empty determination, false and hollow, because all the Princess wished for was stability. For the ground under her feet to be solid, for the maids to stop leaving her, for more time with Lily. But she was so good natured to smother that wish in her tiny little heart, because reality was never kind to her.
Once she had reached the expectations that Lily had set for her, she would stop until Lily once again set higher ones for her.
Princess Athanasia had been like that for as long as she could speak (early, a genuine prodigy, Lily thought fondly), but her eyes had glowed the day she had been a somber sort of quiet (and she’s still looking for whomever or whatever may have made her princess that upset). And Lily couldn’t be more proud of her if she tried.
Because she is doing things for herself now. Rising early (instead of pretending to be asleep and waiting for Lily to come), personally asking for books she could borrow on anything and everything, wanting to know more and more, beyond what Lily had ever hoped.
(Because the Emperor had gone mad with grief and denial over Lady Diana’s death.
Because he lets Lord Robane deal with budgeting of the castle that he is simply too busy to pay a personal visit and too inexperienced to know that he has to. Because Lily does not have the power to march up to the Emperor’s palace to demand accountability.
Because, oftentimes, people can and will be selfish if they are not kept in check.)
That princess has a goal now, and even if Lily doesn’t know what it is, even if her princess never tells her what frightened her so, that is her right, and what Lily always hoped she would learn on her own. As a princess, as the sole heiress to the throne of Obelia, even if His Majesty acts as if he cannot be bothered to visit his only child, it is a fact that Athanasia will, one day in the future, rule.
Because she is not only His Majesty's child, but is Lady Diana’s child as well. She has that same hunger for knowledge, now for more than just academics, and is excelling. Lily is so proud of her, has never regretted her decision to be in charge of Princess Athanasia’s care, and hopes to the World Tree that she learns to love herself, too.
Lily turns, and oh— “Princess,” she calls, face going soft and affectionate, watching that small girl tilt her head in confusion at the looks the maids were giving her now.
———
‘Why, exactly, are books so rare in the Ruby Palace?’ Athanasia wondered. It wasn’t as if all the concubines had been illiterate. A majority of them, for centuries of its existence, were daughters of aristocrats who read as a pastime. It was only a recent change that concubines did not have to have noble blood. There were the books Lily brought in, but they were… fairy tales, made for children. And yes, Athanasia understood that technically, she was a child, but she needed information.
Even with all the books she had read before–before–she didn’t remember every page of literature and history she had access to. She wasn’t a genius who could do something like that. (She had tried so very hard, and still…)
She shook her head. No, she would have to find those books again, but most had been in the Royal Library, access only granted through passes that were only granted through permission (or indifference). And Athanasia did not have that pass (never had, even when she was the only heir apparent). In the past, she accompanied Lily, who had a general access pass. And that was when she was older— not three. The politics and history that she wants to review aren’t available with Lily’s access, regardless.
Even if they were, Athanasia wouldn’t ask her. Too many questions on why a mere maid was getting those books, or why a three-year-old, powerless princess-in-name wanted them, if Lily was forced to speak. And that truth is just unbelievable.
(She doesn’t want to get Lily involved too much. If she causes her death again, Athanasia doesn’t know if she could take it.)
That still leaves her with a lack of knowledge, though.
…
Unless.
Once upon a time, Princess Athanasia had asked about a tower beyond some gates in the palace. Once upon a time, she was only humored and answered because Princess Jennette hadn’t seen a problem with it, and insisted on it. Once upon a time, Athanasia, fifteen years old, had learned about the old, abandoned tower of a Great Mage of the past, who had taught Emperor Aeternitas long ago.
There was history in that tower. Books on magic Athanasia had never had a talent for, but also countless records of Obelia’s failings and triumphs. Journals of previous emperors who had studied in that tower, left to accumulate dust, yes, but still legible.
It was absolutely a mess, those times Athanasia had visited, but Lily taught her how to clean, so she’ll be fine with organizing everything, but…
How to get to the tower without Lily worrying too much?
Planning. She can do that. She has the time.
(A wolf almost seems to snicker, out of sight, gold and blue seemingly
flickering from its body.)