Work Text:
(Mona’s POV)
“In a distant moment of the past, thou once had the audacity to threaten to pry into the Prinzessin der Verurteilung’s personal background,” Fischl brings up suddenly while I am working on my next astrology column at her desk (which she has given me the permission to use). I laugh sheepishly. Geez, “threaten”…
“Why’d you bring that up?” I ask as I underline a part of a report relevant to my research.
“Since you, astral emissary, are now a trusted member of my retinue, I will grant thee the permission to do exactly that. Remember that this is an honour bestowed upon thee, for only subjects of mine as trustworthy as you are will be allowed to witness firsthand the tragic history of the world once ruled by the Prinzessin der Verurteilung herself.” Wait—
“You’re letting me look into your past?”
“Indeed.” She trusts me that much?
“Really? You and Oz seemed really against it before.”
“Astral emissary, dost thou doubt mine words?”
“No, I was just shocked, is all.”
***
Though I already had some suspicion that Fischl is probably putting up some sort of façade and not actually from another world (with a fake name to boot), I didn’t expect all this to be her acting as a character from a storybook. For that matter, said storybook appeared in her personal history more times than I could count; I can practically memorise the title. I’m almost certain that Fischl—or rather, Amy—must remember everything in there by heart by now.
Another regular occurrence was Fischl/Amy being at the end of sneers from people of her age (probably because of her princess act), followed by her seeking comfort from her parents as soon as they got home. Of course, that, too, came to an end; her parents eventually stopped entertaining her fantasies of grandeur.
She visited the library soon after her dreams were shattered by her parents, rereading her comfort book, and what were probably her favourite lines: “Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort, you are the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, my proud daughter. You shall never surrender your nobility and dreams." I’m not sure why she treasures these words so much, but if I have to guess, it is probably related to the reason she role-plays the character of Fischl; maybe she feels more loved this way.
Then Oz appears in her past for the first time. Huh, he really did come alongside her Vision. Intrigued by the nature of his being, I adjust my scryglass again.
“From this day forth, you shall be known to all as Ozvaldo Hrafnavins!”
“‘Ozvaldo’… what?”
I shouldn’t be laughing. I know I shouldn’t be laughing, yet with every other glimpse into her memories, both sympathy and the urge to laugh continue to wage a war in my head. It is an unpleasant experience, to say the least.
“Are you okay there, trusted companion of Fischl’s?” Oz asks.
“Yes I-I’m fine,” I choke out, feeling tears start to sting my eyes, my body shaking from laughter. I have never felt like such an insensitive bitch in my life. I can only hope Fischl is oblivious to my plight as I make one last attempt to hide it by covering my mouth.
“Astral emissary, art thou shedding tears?” questions Fischl. “Hath mine tragic past overwhelmed thy heart with sorrow of such great magnitude?” What in Teyvat should I even say to that?
“Um, well, yes…” I trail off. She’ll kill me if she knew. Or maybe more like never open up to anyone else ever again. Oddly sobered up by those thoughts, I take a few deep breaths, finally regaining my composure.
“Since I’m already reading into your fate, do you want to know what happens in your future too?” I ask.
“There is no need.”
Huh. Okay. I dissolve the scryglass. “So, your real name is Amy.”
As soon as I say that, Oz gives me a panicked look, while Fischl seems to flinch— no, shudder at the very mention of that name before glaring at me. “Was that the only thing of interest to you?”
Okaaay, guess I shouldn’t ever call her that.
“No, actually. Your…” I gesture wildly, unsure whether it would sound offensive, but continue anyway, “character—”
“'Character'?! I am Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, sovereign of the Immernachtreich!” I should have seen that coming.
“Never mind, I meant to ask about the book you seem to keep reading. Where can I read ‘Flowers for Princess Fischl’?”
Her eye immediately lights up as she exclaims, “You want to read that? It’s my favourite series!”
“I can tell,” I say, smiling in amusement. She smiles back, albeit seemingly embarrassed while Oz chuckles.
“I could lend you my books, but please take care of them. They’re very rare,” she says. I eagerly accept her offer; I can’t afford to spend on books I’m only reading once, after all.
“And… whatever you know about me now... it stays between us, okay?” Fischl mutters. Her voice wavers, completely unlike the arrogance she usually speaks with. It was a reminder of how open she really was with me, making me feel worse for almost laughing at all earlier.
“Okay,” I reply, hoping whatever smile I have on my face is reassuring enough. She returns that smile with one of relief, her visible eye almost completely closed, and my heart swells with an emotion I dare not acknowledge. I clear my throat.
“W-well if you’d excuse me, I need to go back to rushing my column for tomorrow,” I speak up, cursing myself internally for that random stutter.
“Art thou in need of something of sustenance to fill thyself?” asks Fischl, and only now do I realise she completely broke character before. She really loves those books, huh?
She continues (with a rather ironic declaration), “Otherworldly as I am, I find myself most craving for the fine flavours of the cooking from Good Hunter. Thou need not fret about thy funds, for it shall be sponsored by the Prinzessin herself.”
“Wait, 'sponsor'? You don’t have to, I can pay you back—”
“Cease the pretence, astral emissary. I am certain that empty purse of yours is not an illusion.”
Oz snorts (or makes a similar sound) at Fischl’s response. Great, another person plus a bird that knows I’m broke. I groan.
“I’m not— You— Can you please spare my pride?!”
She giggles, and my ego only gets more bruised when my heart unwittingly flutters.
“I was merely stating what I observed before me with my Auge der Verurteilung,” states Fischl with a smug grin. Serves me right for laughing at one of her memories.
“I suddenly feel less guilty about letting you buy me food.”
“How disrespectful. Not even a word of gratitude when I, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, have extended my generosity to you?”
"…thanks, I guess. I haven’t eaten at all today.”
Both Oz and Fischl grimace. “Goodness gracious… to have consumed nothing even by the late hours of the day…”
“It’s fine, really—”
“By royal decree, you shall be treated to a feast!” Fischl declares. What?
“Uh, what exactly does that entail?” I ask warily.
“She’ll buy as much food as you’d like,” Oz answers for her. As if on cue, my stomach growls, and my last shred of dignity leaves my body when Fischl raises her eyebrow.
“You heard nothing,” I squeak. Instead of laughing, she gives me a look of sympathy.
“You truly are shackled by the clutches of hunger, astral emissary.”
I sigh. “Yes, yes… Anyway, can you buy steak for me?”
“Very well. May the blessing of fate guide you in your research endeavour during my ephemeral absence,” says Fischl, and with that, she leaves, Oz following along after bidding a quick goodbye.
Somehow, without her around, her room feels much emptier.
I return to her desk, staring at my manuscript for the next column and the scattered research papers that I brought with me, and sigh again. Ugh, why can’t the column write itself? I sit down and attempt to resume work, only for my concentration to be constantly broken by thoughts of Fischl’s smile and her kindness.
…I’m so screwed.