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i went beyond “love” and “hate”
and fell deeply in love with “abnormality” a long time ago
and from the ruins of that warped love, it was created—
a brand new me.
...
she had been plagued by the same question her entire life.
who exactly is she?
sometimes she wonders—most of the time she wonders.
is she fischl, the prinzessin der verurteilung? or is she simply amy, a normal girl? she asks and asks and asks but she can’t give an answer for herself.
she asks oz, but he refuses to give an answer. she asks her reflection in the mirror, but all it does is humiliate her.
she hated looking at herself in the mirror. she hated hearing herself in the mirror. she hated how her reflection pointed out her insecurities, how it pointed out her biggest fears. she hated how she could only listen and never fight back. could only listen because she had nothing to say back. could only listen because it was true.
true that she was pathetic, she was childish, she was stuck in a delusion, she was a coward who didn’t want to face reality. a coward stuck in a 5-year-old’s fantasy land. a fantasy land where everything was easy, where she could exist without fearing the judgement of others, where she would not hear the townspeople laughing and mocking her—but instead worship her. a fantasy land where everything was okay. a fantasy land where she was okay.
except nothing was okay. it never was.
it almost always seemed like her reflection was a different person. like her reflection was not her, but someone better, someone higher, someone she desperately wanted to be. her reflection appeared to be the almighty prinzessin, and she was merely her low-life subject.
if her reflection was the prinzessin, then who was she?
“everyone’s asleep already, yet you’re still awake.”
she is broken out of her trance of loathing and self-pity when someone blocks her view of the water, her view of her reflection. she keeps her head down.
“...good evening, mona megistus.” oz greeted.
“so, today’s one of those nights, huh?” both of mona’s hands touch soft cheeks to raise the gloomy girl’s head up, forcing her to meet mona’s gaze. “hey. who am i talking to?”
she smiles, head leaning to rest on mona’s palms. “i don’t know. just amy, i guess.”
the two girls are silent as the waves crash loudly on the shore, wind blowing loudly to whistle in their ears.
“did you foresee anything, mona?” she asks.
“...not really. after we saw everyone else’s mirage and your behavior, i might’ve...already figured it out.”
“hm.” she mumbles.
“perhaps you did too?”
she gave mona a sad smile. “yeah.”
a bit hesitant, mona moves to sit behind her, hugging her. mona’s arms wrap around her waist, face rested on her shoulder. she tilts her head to give mona space.
“how are you feeling?”
“...scared, i guess. i don’t really want them to know. i don’t want anyone to know.”
“you let me know.”
she laughs. “that’s different. you’re different. i—”
she intertwines her hand with mona, leaning back against the astrologists' body.
“...who am i, mona?”
“that’s not a question for me to answer.”
she pouts.
“...tomorrow—uh, later...your mirage will appear.” mona breaks the silence.
“i know. i know she’ll be there too.”
mona glances at oz who says nothing.
“are you going to be okay?”
“...i will be.”
mona hugs her tighter. “i won’t say anything to them.”
“i know you won’t.”
“fischl.” mona whispers. “we’ll be there with you. i’ll be there with you.”
“i know.”
“will you let us into your mirage?”
“...okay.” she suddenly stands up, one hand still holding mona’s. “...but i have something i need to do first. i’ll see you tomorrow.”
“promise?”
“i promise.” she squeezes mona’s hand before letting go. “goodnight, mona.”
“goodnight, amy.”
she walks away, and oz follows.
if her reflection was the prinzessin, then who was she?
she’s been searching for the answers her entire life. cared less if it was right or wrong. she just wanted answers. she just wanted to understand.
but the moment she saw her island, saw her mirage, she knew she’d found her answer.
she sees the immernachtreich she had created in her own fantasy. the kingdom she ruled and vowed to protect, the kingdom she’d promised would prosper. she sees the mondstadt structures that served as a constant reminder that no matter how much she tries to pretend, despite her best efforts to act otherwise, amy will always be a part of her.
she sees another fischl—perhaps the reflection she’d been seeing—inside the mirage, telling her everything she’s afraid of acknowledging. everything she’s afraid to admit. exposing everything she wants to keep hidden deep in her mind, deep in her memories, all to keep her identity as fischl. all because she was afraid.
she used to fear her own reflection. she used to cower in dread and disappointment whenever she looked into the mirror, whenever she listened to what her reflection had to say about her. she used to accept defeat.
but this time, she could fight. she had to fight. she had her friends by her side to give her the support she needed. they had proved to her that they are reliable.
maybe that was all that she truly wanted.
people that would believe in her, people that would accept her for who she is. it was all that amy wanted.
people who would make her feel that she could be who she was around them, without needing to pretend. it was all that fischl wanted.
and perhaps, instead of showing her what she’s so afraid of, the mirage showed her what she’s been searching for.
she muses that perhaps she’s neither fischl nor is she amy. maybe she is both at once. both are part of her. both of them makes her who she is.
she faces a mirror. she stares at her reflection.
as she blinks, her reflection does too. as she moves her mouth to speak to the mirror, her reflection doesn’t answer. she stays still, and her reflection follows suit.
instead of seeing the prinzessin opposing her, the prinzessin she is afraid of, she sees someone else. someone familiar. someone comforting.
she sees herself.
she doesn’t just see a childlike princess, she doesn’t just see a childish adventurer.
she sees herself.
she sees both amy and fischl in the mirror. not as two different people, but as one person.
as her.
she smiles. her reflection returns the same smile, a content expression on their faces.
she is amy. fischl is she. she is fischl. amy is she.
she lifts her hand to touch the mirror, meeting her own fingertips. “thank you…”
“…mein fraulein.” oz speaks from beside her. “have you found your answer?”
indeed she has. fischl has found her answer. amy has found her answer.
amy or fischl? no. fischl and amy.
the prinzessin and the adventurer, the dreamer and the achiever. the princess and the explorer, the aspirant and the doer.
both are her. she is both.
“have i?” the prinzessin asks. neither to oz, or her reflection in the mirror, but to herself. “yes, oz. i’ve found my answer.” the adventurer answers.