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Princess Athanasia’s first memory is of a vague apology. Of promises and love and to grow up kind, softly spoken.
“He’ll love you like he does me,” a voice weakly whispered. “You’ll grow up loved. My precious Athanasia.”
Then silence, then a flash of red, filtering across her blurry vision, screams and loud, harsh footsteps echoing in her tiny ears.
She never told anyone about that one.
———
Her second comes much later, from whom she later realizes is Lilian York, her nanny. She remembers a lullaby and gentle fussing, a word spoken full of affection, “Princess”.
A sweet taste, a fuzzy feeling, adoration filling her tiny heart.
(Lilian recalled it to be from when she was almost two, when she brought it up.)
———
Athanasia doesn’t know what it’s like to grow up a pampered princess. She didn’t know a lot of things, before she was nine. She was content with Lily’s love and the nice food.
But sometimes she wondered.
And then she met him. Her father, Claude de Alger Obelia, who had the same jeweled eyes as her (but oh so empty ) and blonde hair (hers a tad lighter). It was fate— he wasn’t interested but that was because she hadn’t learned manners and she hadn’t caught his attention yet. (It had to be.)
If she learned, if she was proper and like a storybook princess, she would finally know what a parent’s love was, right?
(Guiltily, she thought of Lilian’s warm smile, of distant promises, but she wanted— she wanted—)
So Athanasia grew up quietly, under Lilian’s teachings of a marquess's daughter, waited patiently until her debutante to get her chance to show her efforts.
She tried dancing— because her mother was good at it— and got the best dress a forgotten, unacknowledged princess like her could get, all for that moment.
All for nothing, because Duke Alpheus presented Jennette Margarita, her sister from another mother. All for nothing, because her their father found her amusing and granted them an audience. All for nothing, because Emperor Claude de Alger Obelia did not come back for the remainder of her the debutante, even though the newly found Princess did after a few minutes.
Athanasia did not react to the pointed whispers, nor to the despair creeping into her eyes. She carefully hid it away, and smiled.
———
The blonde princess celebrated her birthdays alone, like she always had, but somehow, they felt bitter all of a sudden. Maybe it was because Lily had been called out more often, being a maid who was once a marquess's daughter.
Maybe it was because the bright lights from a few months before, or the winter ball being held just a few days before seemed all the more obvious to her.
(How could she not notice? After watching festivities for Princess Jennette’s birth— and not seeing a single gift from either of them when hers came to pass, despite smiles from Jennette—)
The Emperor never had large festivities until Jennette had asked for them. They annoyed him greatly, but of course, if it made The Second Princess happy—
(What of her happiness? He’s never done anything just for her to smile— )
———
“Ah, Sister!” Jennette beamed, fluttering over into the Ruby Palace grounds, brand new heels tapping loudly on the cracked pavement. “Jennette,” Athanasia greeted, “How have you been?” The brunette’s smile widened as she rattled off things she had done with her fiancé.
“I’m glad,” replied Athanasia softly. It was good that one of them was happy. She could be happy for her sister— her family. Their father loved her, and if only for that, she could and would and does love her too.
(She had to— what did she have if she didn’t have them?
Lily, she thinks guiltily—)
“You should have tea with father and I, Athanasia!” requested the lovable princess. “It was your birthday recently, right?” Jennette smiled brightly, hope clear in her eyes. “It was,” the blonde replied, even though it was just over a month ago. “I’ll see if I have time,” Athanasia said, even if she most definitely did. She had made do with joined lessons with Jennette, of Lilian’s edited etiquette lessons from when she was still a noble and not a maid.
She made do with reading books in the royal palace, making sure to carefully avoid the Emperor whenever he did visit. She was not often called upon— not from him and certainly not other noble ladies (and not because it was improper).
She only attended tea parties Jennette asked for her to attend, and her failed debutante was the only “party” she was ever “invited” to. She had never hosted either, because the Emperor would not let her invite anybody— even if she did have anybody to invite.
Athanasia was not favored by anybody but Lilian. And Lilian had given up her power and influence by taking care of her, clearly dismissed by the Emperor. Sometimes, a question of why burns at the back of her throat.
(Athanasia never asks.)
———
“Blessings and glory to the Obelia’s Sun. I greet Your Majesty and Her Highness Princess Jennette,” the blonde princess greeted, tilting her head lower than Jennette had (if at all) when greeting their father. The Emperor did not respond, even as her sister cheerfully called back. The tea party was filled with an awkward air.
Perhaps that was the first sign.
“I’ll pour the tea,” the blonde uttered softly, before proceeding to do it. They did not have maids at this small tea party, because even as much as the Emperor adored Jennette, crowding his palace with maids was something he did not allow very often, and certainly not to serve Athanasia.
(She did not notice that the red-headed knight, always beside the emperor, frowned.)
Quietly and calmly, the cups were filled with steaming liquid, and quickly, because it was Jennette’s favorite tea, she took a sip, before stopping, looking puzzled. Athanasia’s heart stopped— had she done something wrong?
“Huh?” she mumbled, “Sister, where did the tea come fr—“
She didn’t get to finish her question. Suddenly, without a moment's notice, Jennette started choking on— something— and blood came out from her mouth, staining her hands and chin, before she collapsed wordlessly on the floor.
“JENNETTE!” Athanasia choked out, reaching a hand out to the fallen princess. “I— Your Majesty, she—“
She froze.
“Seize her.” A command, coldly demanded.
Silently, she was dragged back to the Ruby Palace, taken away from her father— from her sister who had fallen— and locked away.
Then, she was permitted outside for her ‘last moments of a free woman’ and saw him in his palace, the outside with pillars and statues, and a sad desperation took over her common sense.
———
“What will it take for you to love me?” the blonde princess sobbed from on her knees, a single hand clinging to a leg, “Should I become like Jennette?” Her sister, who was beloved by Claude, was still in a coma for the poison. The poison she was accused of placing.
But Athanasia loved her sister, loved the tiny bit of family she could get, even if she was the only one loved by their shared father. “If I do— then will you call my name dearly like you do hers, and watch me with warmth in your eyes?”
She was desperate. She wanted the life she read about in stories and fairy tales— she wanted a happily ever after. She didn’t even need a prince, she just—
“Will you hold me in your arms… without pushing me away?” Athanasia was breaking. She had learned the workings of a crown princess even with everyone opposing her every move, had taught it to the favored heir that was Jennette, and still, still, still, was she not enough? “Please, please, please, even if it’s only a lie—“
“Such a thing won’t happen until the day I die,” Claude de Alger Obelia’s voice coldly cut through the last of her desperate pleas. Athanasia trembled. “Why— why is that? I’m your daughter too, father.” She was, she was— “I was by your side much longer than Jennette.”
And yet, and yet— her lovelier sister won over their father in mere weeks, when she couldn’t gain a glance in all the years she had lived at the palace. Even with Jennette’s efforts in trying to tie them all together, he was only cold to her when they were both invited.
“You fool,” he snapped out without emotion, as if she wasn’t worth a cent of anything. It was cruel because it was familiar— even with her death sentence he wouldn’t change, wouldn’t give in to his youngest daughter’s only wish.
“There was never a day I considered you my daughter.”
And the final parts of Athanasia’s fragile heart shattered.
———
The days in her cell passed by without so much as a thought. On the floor, Athanasia quietly sat, still.
Suddenly, muffled shouts came from outside. “—CESS!” The jeweled-eyed teen shifted upwards— there was only one person who would still call her that.
“…Lilian?”
Then, her father Claude stepped through, dragging the familiar face of her nanny and maid. “How fitting an end this is for you, Lilian York. Begging for this one’s pathetic life again. I spared you once— you should have learned to stay quiet.”
The Emperor carelessly placed Lilian inside the cell before walking away, his footsteps echoing behind him. “Princess— I’m so sorry, I couldn’t—“
“No, no, Lilian— Lily, you shouldn’t have said anything. Father— The Emperor has never changed his mind in his life.” It was her fault for not being lovable enough, but to bring Lilian down with her— it was, was—!
“How could I, Princess? He was wrong, you’d never do something like that, not to a random stranger and certainly not to Princess Jennette.” Grief flashed through Lily’s blue eyes. “He should have known that you wouldn’t have— should have known you .”
It was silent, for a moment. Then, quietly croaked out, barely a whisper, “ Yes. He should have.”
But it’s too late for things like that, when she’s set to be executed in a few days. It’s too late, especially since Jennette isn’t going to wake until after the fact.
(Sometimes, she wonders if Claude knows she didn’t do it, but that it was a good enough excuse to get rid of her that he’s doing it anyway. That he knows Jennette wouldn’t want it, and is selfish enough to carry it out before she’ll know.
She doesn’t like thinking about that. )
———
The final day comes all too soon.
Lily was gone first— still speaking on her behalf that Athanasia was innocent— not that anybody was listening. If they were, they were only treating it as the ramblings of a madwoman— a joke, crazy words spilling from someone’s death-crazed mind.
Then came her own.
The rope clung to her neck uncomfortably, her back bent in an awkward manner. It was unbefitting of a princess— but she was no longer one, even an unacknowledged one, for she was a criminal who attempted to poison beloved and sweet Princess Jennette.
“Any last words?” the executioner asked, simply for tradition's sake.
For a moment, she thought about pleading her innocence once more, but her voice was hoarse from the lack of water given, and she knew that Claude wouldn’t believe her. Wouldn’t listen.
So, the forgotten and condemned former princess simply shook her head. She did not speak. Did not chance a glance at the person she wanted to simply call her name. The executioner stepped away, and pulled.
Athanasia de Alger Obelia died with an unheard scream in her throat, her last hopes finally fizzling out.
———
And that same Athanasia woke up.