Chapter Text
I saw my life, previously in 'order' as far as possible, until my mother came home, humming, with a delicate-looking envelope in her hands. Unfortunately, I couldn't receive it before she, by misfortune, found the letter in our mailbox. That was it, something I had been calculating and waiting for, the day that damned letter would arrive, to grab it before my mother did and get rid of it, bury it in the backyard, or hide it and pretend it never existed. But no, everything was interrupted because the damned letter was delivered a day earlier than expected.
My mother seemed fulfilled, just with the presence of that letter, as if our lives had been improved simply because of that stupid letter. The only thing that stopped her plan was me. My mother already had everything planned in her head: me, her daughter... a saint, not that I was promiscuous, never, far from it, but I wasn't an angel, even more so because I was a lesbian, and beautiful in the eyes of others, even though I didn't see that beauty that everyone talked about. In my mother's mind, the princess would fall in love as soon as she saw me, which I find quite difficult.
I didn't think I was good enough to be queen, I didn't want to be royalty. Damn it! I didn't even want to associate with the Ones, much less be One.
I didn't even want to see my mother's face that morning. I knew she would bother me the whole time, trying to convince me to register, even against my will, allowing me to spend the afternoon in my room. I didn't even go down for lunch.
But at dinner, I was practically forced to go. Being the eldest daughter, I had to at least help my mother with whatever task was needed during dinner. So, I had to help her cook. As a celebration, my mother decided it was a good idea to make traditional dishes, not just one, but several. So, two hours went by in the kitchen with various snide comments and attempts at intimidation, but I refused to give in.
So we stayed in the kitchen in silence, except for my mother and her occasional chatter and my irritated huffs.
It was like a silent dance, with my mother's occasional glances. She always did this when she wanted to see me do something, or when I wanted to abandon a presentation because I thought it was too complicated.
Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes she didn't. This was one of those situations where nobody could convince me.
There was no way to bend me once I was convinced of something. That's something I inherited from her; there was no denying it. But it wasn't just that. It was almost the end of summer and winter was just around the corner, bringing with it the incessant worries that weigh us down.
"¿Por qué no rellenas este maldito formulario?" My mother's voice echoed through the kitchen amidst the deafening silence, broken only by her angry voice. "Don't you see how good this would be for us? You have the chance to have a good life! A wife! To live in the Palace! Vagatha! Mi hija, think, think how good this would be for our family, for us!"
Her pleas made me feel guilty. It wasn't that difficult... was it? No! I can't, I don't want to! Even if it hurts...
Imagining being in a palace, fighting for a woman I didn't want, where they would try to take advantage of me whenever possible, where... where I could suffer an attack for purely political reasons, was suffocating.
I've seen the rebels in action in Irancasta. One of the politicians' houses was completely burned down, and the cars of people from Caste 2 were destroyed. Luckily, no one was hurt.
But besides my mother's threats, just thinking about the selection process made my heart ache. I couldn't hide my smile as I thought about one of the reasons to stay right here, in my home.
My mother talked and talked and talked, but I couldn't hear properly, but what I did hear made my heart ache.
"Do you know how much this would help your father? These past few years have been quite difficult for him," my mother grumbled. "If you only care a little, Pensarás en él."
My father. I wanted to help him. And Clara and Odette. And even my mother. I couldn't even smile after the way she described the situation. Things hadn't been going well for a long time. I wondered if my father thought the same way, if money would make things better... of course it would, but... would I let him trade my happiness for money? Our situation wasn't so bad, it wasn't like we were starving or anything, but it wasn't easy either.
Our caste was the third before the filth. We were artists, and artists, whether singers, musicians, dancers, or sculptors, were only three steps above the eight. Our money was scarce, and our income depended heavily on the changing seasons.
I remember seeing in my father's ancient history book about all the special dates that were celebrated in winter: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's. In that exact order.
Christmas was still on the same day—you can't change a deity's birthday—but when Abyssia affirmed the great peace agreement with China, New Year's moved to January or February, depending on the moon phase of the year.
I didn't know what Halloween was. Suddenly it disappeared.
So at least three times a year The whole family had full-time jobs. My father and Odete made handicrafts that customers bought as gifts. My mother and I performed at parties and plays—either singing or dancing—and we accepted all kinds of work possible.
When I was younger, I was afraid to perform in front of so many people, but now I just went with the flow of the music, as it should be; we didn't have a voice, we were just a source of entertainment.
Clara hadn't yet discovered her talent, but being the youngest, she still had some time to decide.
Soon the cold would arrive and our little world would turn upside down once again. Five mouths to feed, four workers, no guaranteed jobs until Christmas.
Seeing things this way, the selection process was a hope that could save my family from this end of the world.
I knew my mother felt a great weight on her shoulders and knew that was why she always tried to intimidate me like that. We already argued a lot normally, but as autumn approached, she became nervous. I knew I'd think I was stupid for not wanting to fill out a simple form.
But there were so many things I loved, and that piece of paper would separate me from everything I wanted. Maybe it was stupid, things I'd never achieve, but... still, they were my things, my personal dreams, my goals. I didn't want to sacrifice them; my family is important, but I had already done too much for them.
I was the eldest daughter after Zoey got married and Velvette left. I took on the new role as quickly as I could, I did my best, but it was complicated being an older sister while trying to learn several instruments and languages at the same time.
But with the arrival of the letter, all my efforts lost meaning; in my mother's mind, I was already a queen.
If I could, I would have gotten rid of that envelope before everyone arrived. But my mother had already taken it and hidden it somewhere.
So dinnertime arrived. The food was ready and the table set. I sat in my chair, barely paying attention to my whole family who were already seated.
As soon as my mother sat down at the table, I felt my hands tremble when she pulled the letter from her pocket.
"To the Garcia family," she read, in a sing-song tone that was strange in contrast to her normal demeanor.
I tried to take the letter from her hand, but she was faster than me. Sooner or later everyone would find out, but if my mother did things her way, everyone would side with her.
"I want to hear it!" Clara shouted, which didn't surprise me.
My younger sister was quite similar to me, only four years younger. While we looked alike physically, we were complete opposites in terms of personality.
I felt my face burn crimson with pure shame. My father put down his teacup while listening attentively. Clara was practically flying with joy, and Odette remained serious while she ate. My mother cleared her throat and, after a long pause, continued.
"We confirmed in the last census that a single woman or man between sixteen and twenty years of age currently resides in your home. We would like to inform you of an upcoming opportunity to honor the great nation of Abyssia."
Clara screamed and jumped on me, grabbing my arm tightly, like a cuddly little bear.
"It's you!" she exclaimed with a grin from ear to ear.
"I know, doll. But let go of my arm, you'll twist it." I grumbled, but I wasn't taken very seriously with the laughter escaping. Clara just laughed and gripped my arm even tighter.
"Our beloved Princess, Charlotte Magne," my mother continued, "comes of age this month. To enter this new phase of her life, she wishes to have a companion by her side, a true son/daughter of Abissia. If your eligible daughter/brother or ward is interested in the possibility of becoming Princess Charlotte's fiancé(e) and beloved Prince/Princess of Abissia, please fill out the attached form and submit it to the Provincial Services Department in your locality. One young person from each province will be randomly selected to meet the Princess.
"For your service to the Royal Family."
As she spoke, I stared at the ceiling in boredom. This had been happening for a long time; the selection served to unite the nation, whose reputation was usually shaken, with royalty marrying commoners to try to appease the people.
None of the options appealed to me. The idea of being In a contest that the whole country would watch just to see a snobby rich girl choose the dumbest person in the place to be the quiet, pretty face that would appear next to her on TV... It made me want to cry.
"And of course she would love it, Vagatha! Ella es tan hermosa." My mother said, trying to cheer me up.
"Mama, please! At best I'm just average."
"No you're not!" Clara said, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair. "I look like you, and I'm beautiful."
She said with a wide smile on her face. I couldn't resist letting a small smile escape; it was true, Clara was beautiful.
But she was more than beautiful, she was magnetic. She had a contagious happiness; she was a good person to be around, and me? I was far from that.
"Odette, what do you think? Do you think I'm pretty?" I asked, making a face.
All eyes fell on the middle daughter.
"Stop it, you look ridiculous," she grumbled, returning to eating silently.
"Odette, for God's sake," my mother murmured, "You know you're a very pretty girl, Vagatha."
I rolled my eyes.
"If I'm so attractive, why don't the girls ask me out?"
"Ah, they come to invite me, but I scare them all away. My daughters are too pretty to marry someone from here. Zoey got a Four, and I'm sure you can find someone better," she said before taking a sip of her tea.
"His name is Marcelo. Stop calling Zoey's husband by his number. And since when do girls come here?" My own voice grew higher and higher. I had never seen a girl come near the gate of the house.
"It's been a while," my father said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a hint of sadness, and he stared intently at his cup. I was trying to figure out what was bothering him so much. The girls coming for me? Mom and I arguing? My insistence on not filling out the form? The distance I would be if I were chosen?
I was quite close to my father; I think when I was born my mother was already tired, and my father raised me for a good part of my life. I inherited his compassion and my mother's temperament.
My father looked for a second, his eyes uncertain. He didn't want it to happen, but it would be good for us if I were chosen.
"Vagatha, use your head," my mother said. "We're probably the only parents in Abissia who need to convince their daughter to participate. Think of the opportunity! One day you could be queen!"
"Mama! Even if I wanted to be queen, and I don't want to with all my might, thousands of other girls from the province will enter this mess! Many! And, if by chance I were chosen, I would still have to compete with thirty-four others, all certainly more seductive than I could pretend to be."
"I completely agree—" Odette murmured with a sarcastic little smile. It wasn't a matter of offending, she just wanted to tease me as always, which made me smile.
"¡Cállate, Odette!" My mother shouted, slamming her hand on the table.
"It's ridiculous to imagine that I could win," I concluded. My mother pushed her chair away from the table, stood up, and then leaned over the table toward me.
"Someone's going to win, Hija. Your chances are the same as any other girl's."
Then she threw her napkin on the table and left.
"Odette, when you're finished, go take a bath. No working late!"
She replied with a groan.
Odette ate in silence, and Clara asked for seconds,but there weren't even any leftovers. I started clearing the table as soon as the two of them stood up; my father was still there, drinking his tea.
"Sorry, Dad," I murmured as I collected the plates.
"Don't be silly, dear. I'm not angry," he smiled and put his arm around me.
"I just..."
"You don't need to explain, dear. I know very well," he kissed my forehead and put the empty cup on the table. "Now I need to get back to work."
I walked slowly to the kitchen and started washing the other people's dishes.
I sighed and went to bed; all of this stressed me out.
Why did my mother act like this? Wasn't she happy with my father? Didn't she like our life?
I lay down on the old mattress, replaying the Selection in my head. I think there were a few advantages. It's undeniable that I'd be eating well, just for a few days. And there was nothing to worry about; I wouldn't fall in love with Princess Charlotte or whatever. From what I saw in the Official Journal of Abyssia, I wouldn't even like her.
The hours passed so slowly that I got up every 5 minutes to check the clock.
When it was already 11:58 PM, I jumped up like a bullet, gave my hair a quick fix, just to check. I also put on some of that cherry lip gloss I loved, just to look more alive. Mom was quite strict about makeup; it was only for presentations, but I always managed to sneak a little bit on nights like this.
I opened the window; it was dark, I could barely see, but I continued. I could see the little treehouse, darkened by the night that blinded us from all light.
Seeing that wooden cubicle in the tree took me back to times when everything was easier, when Velvette tied old sheets around us in all sorts of ways and said she was a fashion designer and we were her models. My job was to be her personal secretary; I tried on the 'clothes' and was also her cook, sweeping her imaginary tower and preparing the food—various branches and clumps of earth inside one of Mom's pots.
Velvette would grab the 'food' and throw it over her shoulder, pretending to eat, and then it was up to me to sweep again, but it wasn't a problem for me, I was having fun.
I shook my head, snapping out of my thoughts, looked around, there was no one there, just a silhouette already entering the treehouse with something. I smiled and ran towards it.
Carefully I jumped out the window, rolling on the ground to cushion the fall and avoid making noise, one of the advantages that flexibility gives you.
I ran across the lawn below me, wearing my best pajamas. I could have worn daytime clothes, but I preferred pajamas, more practical, they suited me better.
I grabbed the ladder, climbing without difficulty, something I had learned over time.
Each step was a small relief, leaving my worries and duties behind. There it was just me, Vagatha, I didn't need to be anyone's queen.
I stepped into that small wooden box, knowing there was someone else there, in the darkness.
My breathing quickened, my heart pounded, I couldn't help it. I squinted to see, but the person leaned over and lit a candle; it wasn't much, but it was enough.
The intruder finally opened her mouth and said against my neck.
"Hey, sweetheart?"