Chapter Text
“Violets, for health,” a dainty hand reaches for said flower, slim fingers gently coaxing the stem from the soil and resting it among the other blooms in the willow wicker basket.
“Lavender, for protection and longevity,” you say, but your hand falters this time. English lavender, or french lavender? After a moment of consideration, you reach for the english, it being more familiar to you.
“Passion flower, for peace and good rest,” you place the strange-looking blossom into the basket as well, careful of the wild purple tendrils.
“Zinnia...” your mind pulled a blank. What did you need this for again?
“Strength,” you nodded and said to no one in particular. It surely has other purposes, but you see no need to worry, as you doubt the groundskeepers would grow any harmful flowers within the royal garden.
“(Y/N).”
You look up to see a smiling king, brown hair slicked back neatly and thin crown set modestly atop the royal mane.
You dipped your head in greetings, eyes crinkling in a gentle smile.
“Father.”
Although you had only known the king as such for no more than a week, you didn’t see a reason not to call him “Father.” You had never known a father figure, so the title hadn’t much meaning to you.
~~~
When birthed, your skin was an angry red. Not a red like roses, or blushing cheeks, but a furious, deep crimson of bloodshed and fire. Not to mention the hideous birthmark that spread across your upper back, like the devil’s wings. The doctor had thrust you into your petrified mother’s arms, the midwives gasping, for they had never laid eyes on such an irate infant.
“Take it away!” the woman had shrieked, holding her screeching child to her husband, “Cast it into the woods! Far away!” she yelped, as the very souls of the damned seemed to fly angrily out of the child’s red lips, taking the form of an otherworldly scream.
And cast into the woods you were. Among the grass, far from the only town for miles, wailing and sobbing- not in the pleasant way a newborn should, cries that should symbolize new life- but wicked, heinous howls that shook trees and rose the hackles of wolves. Your cries paused at the sound of shuffling, puffy infant eyes taking in a form reaching for you. Frail, bony hands held you close, the figure wafting off smells of warm bread and sleepy lavender, calming the angry child.
“Poor thing..” cooed the old woman, brushing her hand across your hot, now sleeping, forehead as she took you deeper into the woods.
And so spread the word of the evil witch who had taken in the demon child. In some stories it was demon child- in others it was daughter of Lucifer, or the very incarnation of the devil himself.
Though she was a witch, you recalled, no part of her was evil. She had raised you with her own frail hands, in the chilly hut in the woods you and her had called home. After one a many “Eye of Truth” spells, she had come to the conclusion you had been cursed with a hypothalamic hamartoma at birth. Although the tumor you were born with was benign, and wouldn’t grow or spread, it had latched onto your hypothalamus, a part of your brain in charge of temperature, passion, and hormone regulation.
It made sense now why you were so red, so scorching, so unbelievably brimming with ferocity, even as such a small child.
Your condition had been confirmed when you had been cursed with an early puberty as well, which had also hindered you from reaching your full height. But from the beginning, your witch caretaker had known it wasn’t just your tumor that had you this way. She had sensed a certain aura, a presencewithin you.
That had been what brought her to raise you with magicks. She had taught you hexes and protection spells that would aid in helping your condition, cooling ones that would keep you from burning within the confines of your own skin. The hut always had the scent of lavender and allium rolling through in sweet waves, to keep you calm and aid with sleep.
Your witch caretaker had insisted you called her “Babciu.” She would chuckle and ruffle your hair.
Growing up, you hadn’t met many others besides Babciu. Of course, there was the occasional hungry traveler, who she loved to take in for the night, but they always had to leave and get on their way. A real treat would be children who had wandered too far into the dark woods, they were the only kids your age you would meet and were few and far between, always quick to rush back to their mothers.
But you were always friends with the flowers. Wildflowers in the clearing outside your home that danced in the wind and swayed speckled with raindrops after a storm. Not only were they beautiful, but they were useful in many spells and enchantments.
Alas, good things always come to an end. As you grew older, rumors within the townsfolk became more twisted.
Did you hear? The witch’s daughter is a succubus! Don’t let her snatch your husband!
Did you hear? The witch’s daughter has a hunger for children! Lock your doors, close your drapes!
Did you hear? The witch and her daughter are coming to take revenge on All Hallow’s Eve!
When the lies had piqued, no child could sleep because the fear of a witch and a demon out to get them. Women had prying eyes, wary of the devil’s daughter out for their husbands.
On All Hallow’s Eve, the men were readied with their pitchforks and torches. This is what had finally brought attention to the royal guard. The orders from the King and Queen were to venture into the woods and bring back you and the witch alive for questioning.
However, the knights had no intention of following these commands. Having also grown up with rumors of the witch, but now an added demon child, they feared for their wives and children.
You hadn’t awoken when they came marching through the peaceful woods, sending the birds flapping away in trepidation and flowers trembling in their wake. Babciu had, however, been anticipating this attack. Using the last of her power to protect you, she was slit across the throat in front of your eyes as you screamed, held back by the knights.
It was your turn to die, you presumed, but the crossbow aimed at your heart had failed to do its job. Though the arrow did pierce your chest, at a certain point it was shredded by the protection spell that Babciu had cast before her murder.
The royal guard was shocked, knowing now they had to bring you back to the King now that they knew your magicks were real.
And that was what lead you to the present moment. With the queen unable to conceive and the Royal Family in need of an heir, they decided to take you in generously, provide you with a home and safety fit for a princess. Which you suppose.. you were one now.
Apparently, taking in “The Demon Child” was “Utterly proposterous! A heinous act! Foolish, brash, unsightly decision! How will neighboring kingdoms see of this?!” like the royal advisor had sputtered before promptly passing out.
Your new parents were wary of your condition but glad to help out. They were rather concerned about your interest in the occult and magicks, and were hesitant to accept that this was what you wanted to center your life around. However, as they grew to know you more, they understood how sweet you really were. They praised Babciu for raising you so kindly, and cursed their own royal guard for murdering her. You were forever grateful towards them, and warmly referred to them as “Mother” and “Father,” which made them considerably fuzzy on the inside as well, having believed they would never have a chance to be parents.
~~~
“(Y/N),” your father repeated.
“Sorry,” you said, setting the wicker basket of flowers aside as you turned to him. “Must’ve gotten lost in thought.”
He only smiled warmly.
“No worries dear,” he seemed to hesitate, tugging on his collar a bit. “I understand you probably have a lot on your plate right now, but I would like to speak to you about your duties as a princess.”
“Of course,” you responded, patting the edge of the planter next to you.
The King sat beside you. What he said had been true, you were having a hard time this past week. Losing your Babciu, meeting your new parents, getting lost in the twisting halls of the palace without the friendly scent of lavender or warm bread to guide you, all the sounds, the lights, so many people- it was all incredibly overwhelming for a girl who had grown up lonesome in the woods.
“I want to get you enrolled in etiquette classes,” He says, placing a hand on your shoulder. You flinch a tad, not used to such touches except from Babciu. He mutters a quick apology, awkwardly drawing his hand back. You understand he’s only trying to be supportive and loving, he’s probably excited about finally having a child of his own.
“I see. I apologize if my manners have been less than acceptable as of late,” you sigh, looking at your hands in your lap.
“No, no,” he assures you, “Your attitude has been more than pleasant. We- me and your-“ he stumbles on his words, “Me and the Queen, your mother and I, think it would be helpful to get you accustomed to your new life.”
“Most princesses grow up in royalty, born knowing which fork is for salad and which is for turkey,” he chuckles, and you rub the back of your neck sheepishly, recalling your distress at the amount of silverware during your recent meals.
“It won’t be anything too stressful. It may be a bit.. out of your comfort zone, but it should include things like ballroom dancing, speaking patterns, poise and posture, how to speak to those of certain classes, courting...”
It seemed like a lot to you, but you were excited by the idea of becoming one of the princesses in many of Babciu’s storybooks. You quickly calmed yourself down before you could overheat and looked back up at the King, smiling.
“I’d loved to get started soon, father. I’m excited to help out you and mother in leading this kingdom!”
~~~
You shifted nervously, adjusting the straps of your dress. Although the lower half was quite long, it was kept rather thin so your legs could still breathe, preventing you from overheating. The top was doing wonders for your condition, though. Thin straps held up the form-fitting upper half, it revealed your full arms, collarbones, and neck, but left your upper back in lace- didn’t want anyone freaking out over your birthmark.
You sat in the horse drawn carriage, your mother beside you. She was awfully excited, telling you all about her first time at etiquette classes, that’s how she met your father, you know, and oh, how he looked in his fitted suit, the blue tie, it matched his eyes!
You smiled warmly at her, listening to her speak as the carriage came to a stop. Kissing your cheek gently, she let you go and you stepped towards the tall building.
It seemed like a palace of itself, white spirals that reached up to kiss the clouds. A knight rushed over and was quick to bow, his body almost at a 90 degree angle.
“(Y/N) (L/N)!” He barked when he stood back up.
“What?!” You yelped back, a bit shocked by his volume.
His red eyes blinked, apparently not prepared for that kind of response. The raven-haired knight probably should’ve been more cautious, knowing he’d be working with princes and princesses in need of guidance.
He cleared his throat.
“You are here for Hope’s Peak Royalty Guidance School of Etiquette, are you not?”
You gulped, that was a long name. Although his aura didn’t seem malicious, his eyes were burning with a rather daunting determination.
“Possibly. Why should I disclose that to a knight such as yourself?” You look back at him, meeting his bright gaze with a total 180 from your nervousness beforehand.
He blinked, dumbfounded.
“P-Please! Follow me! I shall guide you to your class!”
He held out his arm for you to link with, as you saw a few walk past you doing so, but you shook your head and opted to walk behind him as you followed him into the tall gates of the ivory palace.
You heard some yelling behind you, and turned to see a short blonde kid yelling at a petrified-looking knight. Something about how important he was, and threatening to kill him. Yikes, you thought.
You heard a cough, and turned to continue following the stiff boy waiting for you. As he guided you through the halls, you felt some of your nervousness begin to fade. You had made sure to enchant one of the zinnia blooms you had gathered yesterday, and kept it pinned to your dress front, like a brooch. You knew nothing too horrible would come your way as long as you had your protection.
Too late, you had realized you were daydreaming about flowers and you had bumped into your guide. Looking back at your surroundings, you notice he was stopped in front of what seemed like a large ballroom. You could hear soft piano and violin from the back corner of the room. You peeked in past the doorframe- there appeared to be others such as yourself. All teenagers wearing crowns of various caliber, some silver, some gold, some something else entirely, with all assortments of gems. You noticed how many of the other princesses’ dresses were large and... poofy. Scrunching your nose, you imagined how hot that would be.
You looked at the princes, many of them suiting of their titles, with carefully groomed hair, sparkly eyes, pearly white teeth... handsome, but none quite caught your eye. All but one. He had on a dark suit, and instead of a tie he donned a long, tattered magenta-ish scarf. His hair was styled wildly, licking into the air at the top. It was black, with a few streaks of ivory. He also possessed an impressive case of heterochromia, one eye red as a blood moon and the other gray like a wolf’s new coat. Across his gray eye was a lightning bolt-esque scar. Not only that, but he also had one of his sleeves rolled up to reveal a heavily bandaged arm. Intrigued, and need you say, attracted by the strangers appearance, you turned back to the knight, who seemed to be waiting on you to say something.
“What is your name?” you inquired.
“Kiyotaka Ishimaru! I-I’ll be your personal escort from today on regarding your classes!”
“Very well. Goodbye.” you bid him farewell, stepping into the ballroom.
Ah. You looked down at the zinnia blossom pinned to your dress, only now remembering what its other properties were. Not only do zinnia flowers aid in strength, they also symbolize love, and lust.
You frowned minutely, looking up to catch the scarf-clad stranger who had you so entranced staring right back at you.