Chapter Text
“My child.”
Hillevi’s attention jolted back to her father’s voice, finally reaching her ears after several attempts. The rhythmic clip-clop of the horses’ hooves as well as the jostling of their carriage had caused her attention to drift away from their current conversation. Quickly she straightened her posture, pressing her back flat against the back of her seat, letting out a deep breath as if to release the tension that had started to build up within her.
“... My apologies, Father.”
A pause hung in the air as she awaited another lecture from the man sitting before her. Clad in a white robe with red and gold accents, he carried himself with a stature too rigid for solitude. A father who refused to relax in front of his daughter in fear that she would become complacent.
“I must admit I have lost concentration," she continued, bowing her head. Mention her own shortcomings and perhaps he would spare her his usual long-winded criticism—something she had come to realize throughout her life. Gloved fingers began to fidget a bit on her lap.
Despite her anticipation, however, Emmerich von Vogel didn’t seem to furrow his eyebrows more than the constant, stern frown that seemed to be frozen onto his ice-cold face. Instead he merely shook his head and exhaled through his nose.
“Must I remind you not to fidget with your hands? It is distracting to look at.”
Not the lecture Hillevi had anticipated, but still something nonetheless. Immediately she stopped, curling her hands into fists to prevent them from moving any more.
“I suppose I cannot fault you for this, however,” he muttered, almost as if talking to himself. “We have been journeying for quite some time now. I am exhausted, as you must be, but fret not, we have surely almost arrived.”
Her own brows raised slightly in response, a calculated effort to show that she was indeed paying attention, but also a genuine change in emotion that she expressed.
“May I peer my head out the window to see?”
“You may, but only for a little while.”
With a grateful nod, Hillevi gently pushed aside the curtain, revealing an opening just big enough for her to peer through at the scenery before her.
Her golden eyes squinted at the sight, flooded with luscious greens and blues, a stark contrast to the golds and reds that furnished the inside of their carriage. The woodlands had changed from what she was accustomed to the further east the two traveled from the Vogel barony, and the mountain range that hosted Garreg Mach Monastery appeared as though it were approaching them with each second.
As the breeze brushed against her ochre locks, Hillevi allowed herself to crack a smile on her lips with excitement. She was truly looking forward to the next year at the Officers Academy.
“Come back inside, your hair is becoming unkempt.”
As always, the brief moment of joy Hillevi could experience was fleeting.
Quickly, but not so much as to allow any more strands of hair stray from how they were kept, she sat back onto her seat. She lifted a gloved hand to close the curtain, separating herself from the outside world once more. Her fingers made their way to fix her hair, but she was interrupted by her father gesturing towards her.
“Come here, I shall fix it myself.”
Knowing better than to deny his command, Hillevi got up, stooping so as not to hit her head on the low ceiling of the carriage, and sat at his side, facing away from him so he could correct her appearance. It wasn’t long before she could feel her father’s gloved fingers undoing the half-bun that tied her hair back—and the comb he always carried tightly pulling against her hair. Hillevi made a concerted effort not to reveal a hint of pain or discomfort.
“Once again, I shall remind you that not a single flaw must be shown.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Not a single strand of hair loose, not even a little imbalance in your posture.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Always watch your words. You may never know if your words will be used against you.”
“Yes, Father.”
Emmerich continued to list the rules his daughter had to follow at all times as he pulled at her hair to retie it into a bun, each one she responded to in turn. It was the same routine they executed before every major event they attended, from an opera performance at the Mittelfrank Opera Company to the most extravagant balls hosted by the nobles of the Adrestian Empire. It was a miracle he hadn’t grown tired of doing it so often, but when one is so desperate to exert one’s power, perhaps it was something he clung to, maybe even enjoyed. Hillevi couldn’t say the same, however; it was but another survival mechanism for her under his care.
“The twentieth of the Great Tree Moon of the Imperial Year 1180,” the baron muttered to himself once more. “Today is monumental. To think that you have grown into a fine noblewoman and are finally attending the Officers Academy…”
If she could, his daughter would have scoffed at his words. There was a false sense of pride lacing his voice, almost as if to make her feel honored. There was only one reason Hillevi was even allowed to go attend the Academy in the first place despite its exorbitant tuition. Nobles they may be, but with the declining power the Vogel barony held for the past several centuries, it would behoove its baron to be more frugal with their wealth, instead of squandering it on luxuries to maintain appearances.
Nevertheless, Hillevi was personally excited for her own reason for attending the academy, for it was her first taste of freedom.
“There, your hair is done.”
There was no need for him to tell her, as she could tell by how tight the top half of her scalp felt. She made a note to herself to loosen it up a bit when he wasn’t watching her. Hillevi breathed a word of thanks, about to make her way back to her seat in the carriage.
"Hillevi."
Hands placed themselves on her shoulders, and it took all her willpower to avoid tensing up at his touch; it didn't help that her father only said her name when he wanted to keep her in her place.
“My darling child.” Another lie. “I have heard the Crown Princess, as well as many other important children of our Empire, will be attending this year. You must befriend the other nobles in your class—especially the Aegir heir."
Of course he would drop that name in particular; the baron was quite obsessed with appearing favorable to that particular house.
"Perhaps the nobles from the Kingdom and the Alliance, as well. Pay no heed to the commoners; they should not breathe the same air as you, after all.”
“I will, Father.”
A lie in return. Hillevi would, after all, prefer to interact with commoners. A lifetime of dealing with stuffy nobles who wore masks to hide their true natures all the time was more than enough for her.
She wanted to get to know those who didn’t have to suffer a similar upbringing she did, even if her father wouldn’t allow it. There were numerous instances as a child where she managed to sneak a conversation with the mercenaries her father would hire when he believed he required a safe escort. Not that they needed extra protection, though; House Vogel were merely minor nobles not worth to be targeted, but this was one of the few luxuries he insisted on expending funds on.
Not to mention, the heir of Aegir was the last person Hillevi wanted to spend time with.
Perhaps Emmerich would have said more to her if the carriageman didn’t call out to him.
“My lord, we have arrived at the monastery.”
Her father’s hands let go of her, and Hillevi felt a wave of relief wash over her.
Bright sunlight flooded the space once more as the baron opened the door of their carriage. Looming before them were the gates of the Garreg Mach Monastery, and beyond were the Officers Academy and the cathedral of the Central Church of Seiros. Emmerich made his way out of the carriage first, finally extending his tall, lanky frame to its full height, and Hillevi followed suit, taking the opportunity to stretch her legs.
“May I stretch my arms, Father?”
“You may not, it is improper. Only do so when no one else is present.”
“Yes, Father.”
It wasn’t long before a monk appeared before them to collect the incoming student. Her smile was a pleasant sight for Hillevi’s sore eyes—the image of her father’s stern face was burned into her eyelids.
“Welcome, Baron Vogel,” the monk bowed before the two. Emmerich nodded his head in return, subtly enjoying the small gesture that made him feel significant. “This must be your daughter Hillevi, correct?”
Hillevi curtsied to the monk , an elegant act befitting a prim noble girl. “I am in your care. I am looking forward to the school year.”
“Splendid!”
Hillevi blinked in surprise as the monk expressed enthusiastic joy at her comment. An utter contrast to what she was so used to hearing.
“I will escort you to your dormitory quarters, and your luggage will be taken there as well. You may also choose a uniform style to your liking, as well as the length of your skir—”
“She will have the longest option available.”
Emmerich’s voice cut in, surprising the monk, who in turn looked at Hillevi once more, her smile more nervous than earlier.
“Well, there are severa—”
“Must I repeat myself?”
The monk faced Hillevi once more, as if awaiting a response from her. She merely stood there without saying a word. It didn’t take long for the monk to understand what was happening. “There is no need, my lord. I shall have it delivered to her dormitory.”
“Good.”
The monk bowed her head slightly. “I assume you would like one last moment before parting ways, my lord? I shall fetch her in a bit, then.”
Not wanting to spend another second in his presence, the monk went off to delegate tasks to the servants nearby to transport her belongings. Hillevi couldn't help but sympathize with her.
Emmerich sighed in exasperation once she left. “How dare these commoners question me…”
He turned to Hillevi, dark green eyes staring down at her.
“I shall make a pilgrimage to the cathedral before I embark on the return journey to our territory. I am a devout man of faith, after all.” His gaze went towards the direction of the aforementioned landmark. “I must say, my sweet daughter, I envy your position. Being able to access the grand cathedral whenever you wish during your stay here is a privilege of which I hope you take advantage. Perhaps it will help you strengthen your faith enough to wield some magic properly.”
Yet another shortcoming of hers he had to mention. All Hillevi could do was nod her head in what merely looked like agreement. Her faith had dwindled as time passed, and there was a miniscule chance if at all that it would rebuild itself, let alone enough to be able to wield the corresponding magic. After all, how could she believe in a deity who seemed to overlook her in favor of others?
“But enough of my lecturing. It is time for you to be off.” The baron took one more second to inspect his child's appearance before his brows knitted together in contempt.
“Your freckles are showing through your makeup. Cover them once more when you have the chance.”
“Yes, Father.”
"And remember, no one desires an imperfect porcelain doll."
"Yes, Father."
A porcelain doll. That’s all she ever was to him.
He left not a word of farewell before making his way into the monastery. Hillevi waited until he was beyond the gates before she let out a sigh, a knot in her chest unfurling while doing so. She lifted her arms above her head, letting out a groan as she finally allowed herself the opportunity to stretch her limbs and loosen the tight bun on her hair a bit.
Once she felt comfortable enough, she made her way towards the monk that had approached her earlier.
“Hey, if it’s all right,” she called out, her voice seeming a bit more confident than before. “I’m ready to head towards my quarters.”
The monk took a moment to process the change before granting her a smile. “Very well. I shall escort you.”
“Oh, and if possible, I’d like a medium-length skirt instead…”
Emmerich wouldn’t tolerate anything he felt unbefitting a noble, prompting Hillevi to be assigned a room on the second floor of the dormitories.
She spent the night unpacking her belongings, placing them inside drawers and shelves within her assigned room. Her luggage consisted mostly of clothes, accessories, cosmetics, and books that her father insisted she take with her, most of them having no sentimental value to her. The objects that she did bring with her that were important to her included a small notebook of her own writing, a few maps, and several pouches of expensive tea. There was a considerable sum of money that her father had left her to use, perhaps to purchase gifts from merchants to appeal to her future classmates, but she knew that was not what she would use it for.
Morning arrived quickly despite an almost sleepless night, whether because of excitement for her new life or fear of what was to come. Hillevi found herself tossing and turning on her bed in hopes that a more comfortable position would be able to suppress the thoughts plaguing her mind. Eventually she got up, unable to remain still, but not wanting to explore an unfamiliar place in the dark, she chose to pace herself within her room. What few hours of sleep she could manage afterwards were enough for her, as she woke up with a lack of grogginess that would usually accompany a sleep-deprived person.
Her uniform hung on the wall across from her bed, made up of elements to her liking: a black blazer with gold embroidery accompanied by a white shirt, a skirt that hit mid-thigh, stockings, a belt with a dagger, and a pair of knee-length boots. It was her first act of defiance against her father, and there was a giddy feeling of joy that broiled within her.
Without thinking, however, Hillevi began to brush her hair to tie it up in its usual half-bun out of habit. It wasn’t until she stared at herself in the mirror before her that she realized what she was doing and stopped abruptly.
In the mirror’s reflection was a girl with freckles across her cheeks and nose bridge, and slightly unkempt hair tied in her usual way, still unable to be styled properly how her father or a maid did. It was a girl that was forced to hide within a porcelain doll, a girl the world had never seen before.
Hillevi gazed upon the girl for a moment, studying her appearance. One by one, she found the flaws on her features that her father would have pointed out, recalling the countless times he had lectured her on how a proper noblewoman had to carry herself. She recalled how often he berated her for having even one strand of hair out of place in front of someone he deemed important. The constant ringing of his voice in her ears that normally felt so loud, however, had fallen quiet at that moment. Was it the fact that Hillevi was on her own now? Was it because her father was now on his way back to Vogel territory, getting farther and farther away from her?
Her eyes wandered to the dagger that accompanied her uniform. As if on impulse, she grabbed it, unsheathed it and sliced the bun off her hair with the blade, allowing the ochre locks to fall onto the ground around her. The top half of her scalp felt free, no longer pulled by the tension it would usually experience. The string used to tie her hair fell beside her, and she picked it up and began to tie the remaining longer strands back.
Once finished, Hillevi took one more look at her reflection. She was unrecognizable, yet for some reason, the girl looking back at her felt right, as if this was how she was supposed to look.
There was no turning back now.
Despite the blazer and tights being provided as well, Hillevi chose not to wear them, merely donning the white shirt and leaving her legs bare instead. In a moment of excitement, she twirled slightly in her skirt, the shorter length feeling much less restrictive than she was accustomed to.
Opening a drawer, she took out a necklace: a polished wyvern tooth intricately tied to a strand of twine, a gift from a mercenary that escorted her long ago. It was something she could never wear, in fear that her father would confiscate and dispose of it if he ever found it.
Hillevi tied it around her neck, slipping the pendant under her shirt to keep it close to her heart.
Putting on the belt as well as her boots, she stood in front of the door before her, one hand resting on the door’s handle. For a moment, she hesitated, thinking about the teachings her father conditioned her to believe: a single flaw could cause everyone to shun her. The mere presence of an imperfection could ruin her entire image and the perceptions others had of her. She thought of the person she grew up as, the person she was at that moment, the person she would become, and how she hoped to prove her father wrong.
With a deep breath, Hillevi von Vogel stepped into her new identity and opened the door.