Chapter Text
To anyone that wasn’t royal or noble, Duchess Delilah, Lady of the Stars, probably appeared to have an extravagant estate, completely on par with her peers. However, Sectonia was very royal, indeed. To her, it was apparent that the duchess had chosen the most low-maintenance perennials she could find for her gardens, and judging from the leaves dotting the entryway, she’d cut down on her servants in the recent years. Rumor was she only had eight. Most noble houses managed with a minimum of eighteen servants, and most royal houses had thirty. The palace had three-hundred fifty.
As Sectonia approached the door, she waved a dismissive hand to her valet. He would tend to her luggage before leaving, but at the moment, he would linger back and wait for Sectonia to be greeted. As expected, the door opened before she could even knock. However, it wasn’t a butler greeting her. It was the duchess, herself.
Delilah wasn’t a conventionally attractive woman. She was too broad, too heavy, and too hard-featured. She looked like she could snap a man in half with her bare hands, yet she dressed most often in light, pastel fabrics, decorated with a generous amount of ruffles. Sectonia rarely spoke with the woman, and she’d have preferred to spend her last night in Dreamland in a nice hotel rather than a failing estate. Delilah would probably prefer that, too.
But people would certainly talk if the Crown Princess of Dreamland chose to ignore the one Dreamlandic royal that lived closest to their northern neighbor. When Delilah bowed, her dishwater-brown hair slipped over her shoulders. “Welcome, Your Royal Highness, to my estate. It is such an honor.”
Delilah was very good at sounding sincere. “Indeed.”
The duchess ushered her inside. Delilah’s practical, three-inch block heels made a clunking sound on the hardwood floor. Sectonia suddenly felt awkward with her tall, fashionable stilettos and long, tulle-and-satin midnight-blue dress. Clearly, her distant relatives prided themselves on being utilitarian. “Ah, Dedede,” Delilah said, greeting her son as he stepped around a corner.
Dedede, catching sight of Sectonia, bowed and stumbled over his greetings. Sectonia acknowledged him with an appropriate, princess-like nod.
She hadn’t spent much time with Dedede either, even though they were both twenty years old and had grown up in the same place. Dedede fidgeted with the collar of his red, button-up shirt. “Dinner’s ready,” he said.
“Excellent,” Delilah replied.
Sectonia followed them to the dining room. It was a very simple room, holding a long dining table. The walls were bare, save for a large portrait of the duchess, beaming and smiling, with her hands resting on the shoulder's of her son. Being of highest rank, Sectonia sat at the head of the table. Delilah sat to her right with Dedede beside her. Sectonia wondered, as the single maid hastened to place their wineglasses before them, how many generations it would be until this royal house completely failed. Two or three? Four, perhaps, if one of them sold their estate along the Floralian border. Delilah had once said she never would; according to her, a person couldn’t properly rule an area he or she didn’t live in. It was a sound idea, for Delilah’s region was doing well. She put her emphasis on good and accessible education and on improving Dreamlandic-Floralian relations. Her budget was usually sound; she never took extra money from it for herself. Morale was high in her region.
Her house was still failing.
Unless Delilah or her son could secure a good marriage. The princess felt a swell of pity; she knew how seriously marriage was taken amongst people of their status. She, of course, had her pick of suitors, but some were not so fortunate. Besides, a royal woman with an adult son was already at a disadvantage; no one wanted to flirt with a potential succession crisis. And Delilah, herself, couldn’t have more children anyway.
The placement of the dishes indicated a five-course meal, and dessert looked to be ice cream from the position of the spoon above their plates. Over dinner, they exchanged small-talk, as if Delilah didn’t already know everything about Sectonia and as if Sectonia was entirely ignorant about the duchess’s difficulties. It was inoffensive if a bit boring. Visits of this sort usually were.
“Can I go visit Meta?” Dedede asked abruptly, speaking the first words he’d spoken all meal.
What? No one had ever requested to leave a dinner with Sectonia present. She was the most important person in Dreamland, second only to Queen Alera, herself. Sectonia maintained her composure. She wasn’t even sure if she was more insulted or more baffled.
“Dedede, we have a guest,” Delilah replied.
A proper, predictable answer.
“C’mon, Mom! Y’all don’t need to talk with me. ‘Sides, I ain’t seen him in a couple days. He might wanna spend the night. Well, assuming he ain’t still upset over me kneeing him in the…” Dedede trailed off and cast a nervous glance towards Sectonia. “Uh…reproductive organs.”
Delilah pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. “Text me if you’re gonna be out late. Try not to assault the poor boy this time. Y'know Leyla'll just tell him to suck it up no matter whatcha do to him.”
Dedede beamed and rushed from his chair. “Thanks, Mom!” he exclaimed.
Sectonia frowned. Dedede was correct; they probably wouldn’t discuss anything of interest. Everyone knew the duchess’s son cared little for politics. Still, he surely didn’t need to run off like that, did he? He could’ve at least had the courtesy to stay and suffer like the rest of them. “I wasn’t aware there were other aristocratic children in this region,” Sectonia said.
Sectonia knew very well there were no aristocratic children living near Duchess Delilah, which meant Dedede had abandoned her for some common boy. That only added insult to injury. “There ain’t,” Delilah said.
Either the duchess was oblivious or—more likely—was pretending she hadn’t noticed the slight. “Ah, a socialite, then?” Sectonia asked.
“No, Meta’s quite common,” Delilah said, “He came from an abusive household, so I pulled a few strings and set him up in a decent foster home. Family of jewelers. They’re clearly just taking in kids for the money, but they ain’t the worst home. They make sure he has food and water, decent clothes, a place to sleep at night, and I pick up the slack. They leave him to his own devices, which I s’pose suits him fine. He ain’t interested in having loving parents.”
“But is it wise to leave him with such people?” Sectonia asked. “Why couldn’t you take him in?”
“Meta’s a very proud boy,” Delilah said. “He don’t like the thought of just living with someone—mooching, he calls it. He figures with foster care, at least they’re getting paid to take care of him.”
It was…unconventional to have an aristocratic child of Dedede’s age having common friends, but Sectonia supposed it would be worse if Dedede had no friends, especially since he seemed to have developed a disdain for most courtiers in the capital. It was a pity. Considering his skills with the war-hammer, Dedede might’ve been able to secure a position on Queen’s Guard if he’d been more approachable and less blunt.
“He’s a charming boy,” Delilah added with a fond smile, “Very intelligent and quick-witted. If you can coax a conversation outta him, he’s quite lovely.”
“You’re very fond of this young, common man,” Sectonia said.
“You oughta see the Floralians.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re gonna find, Your Royal Highness, that the Floralians ain’t as strict on class like we are in Dreamland. You’re gonna see all sorts together, but that’s good for you. It’ll be a decent learning experience, though I gotta admit that I was a bit surprised you didn’t just go to Dreamland University. I don’t think any Dreamlandic royal has ever went to university in Floralia.”
Sectonia carefully maintained her polite smile. “I think, Delilah, that as the Crown Princess I ought to more thoroughly immerse myself into the politics of our neighboring kingdoms. It was very gracious of the Floralian government to allow me attendance to one of their most prestigious schools. This will, of course, also aid Dreamlandic-Floralian relations, which I’m sure you’re also very passionate about.”
So passionate that she, when racing against the clock, had specifically chosen a Floralian man to father her only child. It was widely known that Duchess Delilah could never have another one, but those matters were only discussed behind closed doors and in backhanded compliments. And Sectonia, herself, would never stoop so low as to mock a fellow woman’s infertility. A duchess without the ability to produce heirs was a disgraced woman amongst royals.
Delilah smirked. Evidently, her thoughts hadn’t traveled the same distressing route as Sectonia’s. “And here I believed the tabloids in thinking you just wanted to get away from Alera.”
Sectonia was careful not to let her smile waver. “The best way to understand other cultures is to immerse yourself fully into them,” Sectonia replied, ready with her excuse. “I’ve no doubt that studying Floralian politics—”
Delilah snorted. “Politics? You’re gonna get a degree in what you’ve been trained your whole life to get? You oughta do something different, Alera be damned.”
Sectonia clenched her jaw. “And pray tell, what does Dedede intend to pursue a degree in?”
Nothing, if the rumors were true.
“Archaeology with a concentration in paleontology,” Delilah replied breezily. “He’s trying to coax his friend into going with him.”
“His common friend?”
“Yes.”
It was little wonder that everyone at court despised this woman, who let her royal-blooded child gallivant around and befriend a common one. Sectonia wondered if Delilah had an ulterior motive, if she’d noticed the unrest in the capital and wanted to endear herself to the lower and middle classes, as a matter of self-preservation.
“I’d advise you to keep an open mind, Your Royal Highness. That kinda thing is gonna serve you well someday,” Delilah said. “The world’s changing; y’know.”
Sectonia knew it all too well.
There’d been a protest just before she left the capital, comprised primarily of Patchlanders and Halcandrans, against Queen Alera. Sectonia gazed at the dusk-swaddled sky. It might’ve been easier to condemn the actions of Dreamland’s citizens if it’d been her fellow royals or nobles protesting, but with Patchlanders and Halcandrans, it was more difficult.
Granted, the late king of Patchland had sold his kingdom to Dreamland, and it’d been his actions that saved their struggling country. But the man Alera had chosen to govern the nation hadn’t been popular. He’d pushed too hard to make Patchland into Dreamland, and his decision to strip Patchlandic royals and nobles, mostly those well-beloved and trusted by their people, of their high statuses on a whim hadn’t done him any favors.
The issue with Halcandra was even more complicated. After King Bikaia’s death, the Ancient Ones had deemed the Halcandrans too dangerous. After all, the infamous Sir Galacta Knight, Knight of the Slaughter, had been one of them. They’d killed many of them, and the Halcandrans had nowhere to flee. Their nation had been destroyed by the great dragon Landia under circumstances that weren’t still fully understood.
Dreamland’s history was written in blood and magic, and Sectonia, herself, was simply another chapter. Another future queen in a long line of kings and queens, who’d done too little or too much. Wouldn't it be wonderful, for a handful of semesters, simply to leave it all behind?