𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖘 - (Ranboo)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕

Her mother was back. It wasn't evening, but as the sun was so close to the equator, Hertha wouldn't be surprised if her mother just stayed. Hertha ran a hand through her hair and felt like sleeping off all of the baggage she carried home with her. However, she realised her mother was downstairs, in the kitchen drinking tea. The dagger was also in the kitchen. Hertha has never rushed out of her room and down into the kitchen so fast in all of her life, seeing her mother play with the blade and admire the craftsmanship before looking at her daughter and dropping it, "why do you have the princess's dagger?" She asked and pointed at the knife.

Hertha's brain short-circuited for a moment, she felt like the world was suddenly in her favour again - she remembered who the dagger belonged to. She shook her head slightly, "sorry, I'm tired. When I was with the royal family, Princess Venus gave me the dagger for when I'm on my way home as I complained about feeling like I was being followed," which wasn't false, it was true until Hertha started lying about being with Venus.

"Oh I see. Alright... honey do you know who may have been following you? If it's true. And maybe you should give the dagger back. How was your shift today?" Orphi asked and stirred her tea.

"It was good! And I have a vague idea of who it could be... but I'm sure it isn't an issue anymore. Maybe I should go give this back. I forgot to give Princess Venus her dress and pins back."  Hertha took the knife quickly and started shuffling back.

"Go tomorrow! It's a little late now. Plus I want to spend time with my daughter. Get to know about the ball." She smiled and patted on the chair next to her. Hertha didn't have the heart to say no to her mum so she quietly sat down with her mother - the two spoke.

It was hard for Hertha to focus on the conversation though. The dagger belonged to Venus, which meant that Venus was probably there close by. Where was she? And was the man dead? For good? She couldn't really think of anything else. There were so many things to think about, like what Ranboo could have possibly done to be followed as persistently as he was - or if Venus knew what was going on. Hertha knew that people usually had one life, but some had three lives. They die and come back for another try - scars showing how they died previously. Some people had more. There was also the myth of immortality. Many people had the elixir but didn't use it - giving it to landmarks instead like a volcano. She wondered if Dream, her short-term follower, was dead for good or if he was coming back.

And what if he came back? Hertha wasn't sure she could handle it. She only had one life.

Her conversation with her mother lasted until it was time for Hertha to sleep. She simply went up to her room after wishing her mother a good night and lay in her bed, the dagger sitting on her dressing cabinet with the floral pins. Hertha would have to think of a lie somehow, think of a way to give Venus her knife back without looking suspicious. She could always blame one of her friends, what kind of a friend would that make her though?

She fell asleep with a frown.

The next morning, she sat up before feeling herself wake up. There was movement downstairs as her mother busied with getting ready for another day at the fields, yet Hertha could only rub her eyes and sit in bed. Something about waking up after cheating death felt strange for her. It was like visiting Hell and making it back out alive. Even if she told anyone, how many would believe her? Too much was going on in the kingdom of Olympa. Too many people were growing involved in Hertha's life. She didn't blame it on the return of Venus, or the introduction of Ranboo (though realistically, it was his presence which gave Hertha the fate she did). And she didn't want to blame herself for the sickly feeling in her stomach she felt. For just a moment, she wished she hadn't woken up and felt as terrible as she did.

She sighed and got out of her bed, getting ready for a day at the castle. That consisted of pulling on the red dress, the same warming red of the kingdom; tying the apron around her waist, feeling the petticoat brush at her knees slightly; slipping on her shoes, not before putting on a pair of socks for the cold dawn; all before tying her hair with a ribbon to keep it out of the way. She then packed her things, Venus's dress, her pins and the knife. Hertha slipped the knife into her apron pocket and carried the rest in a basket she'd lazily forget in Venus's room.