Chapter Text
Raised in a strict household, Noelle was raised to be a proper lady since young.
Her father, a merchant who often travels and her mother, a seamstress at the tailor’s in town, Noelle’s often on her own because of how little time her parents spend at home. She wasn’t the richest, but she lived a satisfied life nonetheless.
In the Victorian age, girls weren’t sent to school. Instead, Noelle would spend her time at home, taught by her nannies how to be a well-mannered woman. Noelle was a master of many crafts, a master weaver, professional cook and even expert clothes washer. It was just how life was and Noelle would never defy her parents to discover the world beyond it.
It was on her twelfth birthday that she was left on her own for the first time. Her father would only be home by sunset and her mother had a task she could not leave unfinished so she had no one to look after her for the day (Michelle, her usual nanny, gave birth to a baby girl and was on leave).
Noelle, but of course, thought of doing the chores around the house before the maids arrived to prepare breakfast. What she aimed to do, she had to do it quickly, for her absence from the house would get her into boiling water with her father. She waited for her mother to leave the house at 7:30, and left her room at 7:34 as shown on the Grandfather’s clock down the hall. Her hallways were empty but warm, sun rays peeking through the curtains ahead. The family portraits glistened, coated in dust that collected over the cold night.
Noelle would have until 9:00 until the part-time maids would arrive. She walked, until she realised there was no need for her to carry herself like a lady. She ran.
“Wheeeee!” Noelle screamed as she scurried down the stairs, swinging at the corners of the railings and ending with a spin. Her eyes land on a piece of paper pinned to the refrigerator, listing all the tasks to do for the day. Noelle, only a head taller than the kitchen counter, tiptoed, gripping onto the fridge door to catch a glimpse of the scribbles on the note. Buy vegetables for Noelle’s birthday dinner. Get a bouquet of roses to braid Noelle’s hair. Pick up clothes from the dryer’s, Noelle chanted in her head like a mantra.
Noelle made sure to close the door properly behind her, her keys clinking away at the side of her dress. She took a deep breath of the air outside, a gust of wind blowing at her face.
“Oh, Noelle? Happy birthday!” a neighbour called out to her from next door. She lowered a hand, urging Noelle to take it. Noelle shook it, though her hands were big enough to grip onto three fingers. A few others greet Noelle the same way, wishing her a blessed birthday or asking about her day.
The cobblestone street in town stopped at the signboard that welcomed foreigners to our quaint settlement, after which there was a narrow dirt path sandwiched between bushes and brambles. There were hung along the various apartment buildings and shop houses along the street. The rich travelled in carriages carried by the most majestic horses while women like her walked in their shadows, lugging their items by the side of the road. Noelle scampered along the stretch of the street, her eyes sparkling with joy.
It was a different experience to roam the town on her own. She had seen the buildings on many occasions with her parents, or with her nannies but now, she felt grown. She felt independent, like the world functioned in a way it would suit her liking exactly.
She followed the winding street to the plaza, in the middle of which there was a grand fountain and several street-side stalls. It was lined with restaurants too, and many establishments including her mother’s shop. Noelle had to be careful.
Buy vegetables. Noelle only had the bag of deutschemark that was on the dining table for the maids. She pushed past the crowd of women, trying to find the produce lane. She scrutinised each vegetable carefully, analysing them with critical eyes. Identifying the vegetables she likes (which was quite a handful, and much more than she could pay for), she poked at them and began shaking them by her ear. Luckily enough, the store owner was patient with her and packed up a mix of vegetables at an affordable price. The kind lady even offered Noelle a lollipop!
Get a bouquet of roses. There was a florist nearby, right across the road. Roses were Noelle’s absolute favorite, a mark of loyalty. Perhaps they were meant as an apology gift to her from her parents. The florist was a snarky, old man, one that didn’t quite like kids or Noelle for that matter. When Noelle held up her money, he shoved a bouquet of roses in her face and muttered something under his breath, one that Noelle was much better off not hearing. She stumbled a little on her tiny feet, her grocery bag disbalanced on her shoulder.
Pick up clothes from the dryer’s. The only struggle about this task was holding the dress on her own. Noelle recognised the clothes as her favourite ones, a custom tailored folk dress in yellow made by her mother. The tailor was a polite man, Mr Frederick, who had close ties to her parents. Noelle could only hope they wouldn’t hear of her unexpected visit!
Noelle had 30 minutes on hand before she had to make it home. She decided to slow down a little, dawdling her way home. On the way, she spotted a second-hand book sale, a makeshift shelter held up by wooden poles with a vast collection of books on the ground. Noelle approached it, intrigued by the sight. There weren’t many patrons of the stall. Its owner was long asleep on a chair right by the store, drool pooling down the corner of his stubbled chin.
“You stepped on me,” Noelle heard a soft voice below her. She squeaked in embarrassment, jumping back a little. Surely enough, there was a girl below her, one that looked her age. She was strawberry blonde with hair half done into twintails.
“I-I-I didn’t mean t-to!” Noelle apologised. The girl’s pouty lips curved into a little smile as she looked up with her lime eyes. The skin around them creased, giving them a crescent-like impression. Noelle looked down at the book she held in her hands, a childrens’ picture book of the name “Flowers for Princess Fischl”.
“It’s a really pretty book,” Noelle commented. The girl nodded enthusiastically.
“It’s my absolute favourite.”
Noelle took a seat beside the girl, close enough to read the book over the girl’s shoulder. They were at a scene where a princess was in a garden of roses, her faithful familiar by her side while she narrated a monologue. The silhouette of the princess reminded Noelle a lot of the girl beside her.
“I’m Noelle,” Noelle introduced.
“I’m Amy—” she spoke, immediately cutting her off as if she was uncomfortable by what left her mouth. “But I like to go by Fischl.”
Noelle sat by Fischl for a few moments, the girls reading in silence.
“I’ve never seen you around,” Fischl pointed out.
“My parents don’t let me out a lot,” Noelle confessed.
“Mine neither.”
Fischl looked up from her book, her expression blank but eyebrows raised. Noelle and Fischl looked into each other’s eyes. Noelle wasn’t used to conversation with girls her age, or social interaction in general. She averted her gaze, her face flushed but Fischl only stared.
“Do you read?” Fischl questioned.
“My father forbids me from reading. He tells me reading is for boys and girls should focus on grooming themselves into proper women,” Noelle explained. Fischl frowned, visibly disappointed.
“That’s rather pitiful.”
Reading was an easy escape from reality. A portal to a world that wasn’t the sickening reality they had to live repeatedly, one that Noelle could not afford to take as the grounded, tight-rooted girl she was expected to be.
“I need to be home now! My nannies will report me if I’m not back any sooner!” Noelle panicked, picking herself back up. A single rose fell from her bouquet onto Fischl’s lap. Fischl lifted it, holding it up to Noelle who struggled to hold all the things she carried in her arms.
“Don’t you want your rose back?” Fischl nudged Noelle’s dress with the flower. Noelle paused and stared for a couple of moments. With an awkward but sincere grin, she mentioned, “You should keep it.”
A rose, Noelle’s mark of loyalty. As Noelle scurried back in the distance she came from, Fischl observed her silhouette grow smaller and smaller till it was as invisible as the dust in the air.
A tiny smile emerged on Fischl’s face as she sniffed the rose.
It was a miracle that Noelle’s nannies entered the house just five minutes after her arrival. She left the things on the kitchen counter, tossing her shoes off to a side where the dirt on them would go unnoticed and positioned herself right on the armchair. She picked up a half-crocheted sweater she had been working on for a few weeks, feigning the most determined expression feignable.
“Mother bought them ahead of time!” was Noelle’s answer to the maids’ interrogations. Even though the day was a secret to everyone but the girls themselves, one that could not be spoken of and far from being relived, it would remain an eternally special one to Noelle.
It took several weeks of convincing to ask for a day on her own in the town. Finally, when her luck shone through, Noelle burst through her door with so much excitement, she felt as if she was going to explode. She couldn’t get Fischl off her mind, the way she flipped through her pages so gently and the way her lips had a little smile whenever the Princess spoke in the book. Noelle had never been so close to anyone before.
When Noelle reached the stall, she found that it was more empty than she wanted it to be. The stall owner was there once again, swaying from fatigue but most importantly of all, it lacked Fischl’s presence. Noelle’s lips part in disbelief. She should have guessed she wouldn’t find Fischl again. It had been too long since their previous encounter and Fischl was only one girl in all the girls of Germany. Noelle slumped onto the ground, frowning. Out of curiosity, she picked up one of the books in the series Fischl was reading, also as a way to feel closer to her at a distance.
“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a noble princess by the name of Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort,” it read. And like that, like magic, Noelle was entranced. She flipped through the pages, getting deeper into the book than she thought she would. Before she knew it, she was nearing the end.
“Noelle!” the cutest voice yelled, grabbing Noelle’s shoulder a bit too tightly. Noelle blinked, returning to her senses. In front of her, stood Fischl, wearing a purple dress tailored to mimic that of a princess gown.
“Fischl?!” Noelle exclaimed. Noelle pulled Fischl down to sit beside her, nudging her at the shoulder. She slid her finger across the page, pointing at the little details that caught her eye and rambling about them endlessly. Fischl listened silently, obediently, observing Noelle’s many mannerisms. Noelle drew pictures in the air with her hands, going on and on about how she loved Oz the Raven and his bond with Fischl.
That would be the first time Noelle realised she, too, wanted to be there for someone. Not as the main character, but at the side, where she could build them up and make them shine. The servant to a noble princess, the Oz to Princess Fischl.
“I came here to see you,” Noelle grinned widely, her tone twinkling with such innocence and brightness. Fischl’s eyes widened.
“I’ve been coming here every day for you too!” Fischl grabbed Noelle’s hands in her own and shook them vigorously. Their hearts beat a little faster.
“Your parents aren’t with you?” Noelle questioned, tilting her head.
“They travel a lot together. They used to bring me around but I prefer to stay in town. I’m guessing you aren’t with yours either,” Fischl giggled. Noelle found a smile forming on her face, seeing Fischl so happy. As someone who rarely smiled, seeing the girl so obviously happy, Noelle couldn’t help herself either.
“I wish I could see you more often,” Noelle admitted, rubbing the back of her neck with a hand. Fischl nodded, agreeing.
“I still have your rose in my bedroom,” Fischl blurted out of random. Noelle flushed, retracting her hands and covering her cheeks with them. She hadn’t ever given a gift to anyone before, so it meant a lot for her to know Fischl kept her little one.
“Can we write letters to each other? The Prinzessin does it with—” Fischl suggested after a moment of pondering, speaking with little bounces in between intervals.
“I would love that,” Noelle squeaked. Upon a few moments of thinking, she gasped, covering her mouth embarrassedly, “Ah~! I shouldn’t interrupt my princess.”
Fischl leaned forward. Noelle raised her eyebrows, not knowing where to put her hands. She hung them tentatively over Fischl’s waist, wondering if it would be right to touch her there. Fischl cradled her dearly, as if they’d known each other for years. When she pulled away, she grabbed Noelle’s shoulders with one hand and parted Noelle’s bangs with the other.
Pulling out a crumpled pink rose from her breast pocket, she stuffed it behind Noelle’s ear. “I apologise, I don’t have a better one for my dutiful maid.”
“I’m happy with all that you give me, mein Fräulein.”
On that day, and many days after that, Noelle would beg her nannies to help her write letters to Fischl. There was never a week that there wasn’t a letter sent and a letter received. On many occasions, Noelle even tried to learn how to write herself (especially past midnight when the adults have retired to their own quarters), although most of what she learnt about the written language was from “Flowers for Princess Fischl”.
- - -
Dear Prinzessin Fischl,
How have you been doing? I have been thinking about your well-being since our last encounter. I have never written a letter as such, nor have I read one so I apologise if it’s framed rather awkwardly.
I’ve recently finished crocheting a new pair of socks to go with a sweater I had been working on for a long while. Do tell me if you want to know about my work, I would be delighted to show you some of what I do! I have finished the first three volumes of “Flowers for Princess Fischl”, and I am absolutely captivated by the story. I wonder what you do in your spare time, milady. Is there anything you like to do?
My father returned home and bought me a new set of dresses, and a new set of accessories to wear in my hair. They’re gorgeous, but I don’t have many opportunities to wear them. Perhaps I can wear them around the house and upon acquiring a photo camera, I can send you polaroids! (I heard my father found a good bargain with another seller to obtain a set of the newest technology straight from Fontaine, Kamera). If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll be able to get more time outside the house.
I look forward to our next meeting. As your loyal servant, I will do my best to know all about my princess and be by her side regardless. I eagerly wait for your reply.
With sincere love,
Your dearest maid and acquaintance,
Noelle.
P.S. I’ve been learning how to read and write, hence this postscript message. My nannies and parents aren’t aware of this but surely enough, I’ll be able to write to you myself!