And so, Obelia is on edge for the next few days, even as the weeks passed on with not a hint of war from Athanasia's new country, those rotten to the core nobles start berating the emperor to move first.
If they didn't attack first, that princess would, and they couldn't- nay, wouldn't-have the empire fall to a second-born like her.
He can't listen in on their inner thoughts but he could tell what they were thinking of, their tongues babbling on about the princess they didn't know nor care about, and he wonders if he should cut off all those flapping organs so he wouldn't have to listen to their corrupted blithering.
He holds himself back, he couldn't massacre them all like he did when he came into power, couldn't kill them all like he did those concubines.
He would remain passive, right up until his breaking point.
And then- and then? He would rid them of their heads altogether.
His fingers dig into his temples, the thin skin there breaking as his nails sink into his flesh, drawing golden blood as he breathes heavily in the darkened space of his chambers.
Static echoes in his skull, drowning out all other noises besides itself as more visions swarm into his brain.
This time, Diana is in the distance, her face is covered, and her voice is garbled as she whispers to him. "-Claude..- Ath-..fami■y..real--love..?"
And Claude can only mumble words to a lullaby to keep the nightmares at bay, a child's voice echoing throughout the empty room as he grabs handfuls of his sheets, hunched over, gazing blankly at the ground.
"Goodbye..for tomorrow will bring...and even brighter morning...sleep my child, and dream.." he stares at his open hands, closing them, just a bit, as if holding tiny hands with his own.
"...dream only beautiful dreams, my child."
As Celestine and Athanasia make their way through the crowded market, searching for a reputable shop for recording mana stones, their hooded cloaks hiding their noble bearing giving them easy access to the world they once had no reason to know about before their situations had turned.
Athanasia's eyes catch the disappearing hand belonging to a small child behind the dark alley just beyond the shop they were headed for, and she hesitates.
She disliked knowing that she hesitated on meting out justice as her station would have her, but she didn't know the circumstances of all involved and she could bring trouble to herself, with a quick glance at Celestine who blinked at her, she wasn't traveling alone.
Athanasia's inner debate about how she had also been that girl being cornered during balls and banquets when the girls laughed at her for being unloved in many of her lives, and she grinds her teeth down as she stalks towards the alley, paying no attention to Celestine's insistent whispers of, "Your highness-!"
Her cloak billowed out behind her, revealing the expensive mud-covered boots and blue sparks on her palm.
The girl is being dangled in the air with a hand wrapped around her throat, the opposing man screaming at her, "I told you to bring me more wine, why are you so useless?! Just a wretch like your mother!"
Athanasia's fist tightens as she makes eye contact with the tiny figure in the air before she gently pushes Celestine further behind her before thrusting out her hand and the man's hand releases as he screeches out, eyes wide at how his fingers broke with loud cracks.
He runs away from their small party, the girl breathes in harshly, coughing, eyes watering as she looks up at Athanasia and Celestine before she trembles, getting to her feet and giving a shaky curtsy.
"Th-thank you for helping me..."
Athanasia gives her a cursory look over, not answering and instead asking, "And your name is?" in a voice that reminds the little girl of what she imagines princesses to sound like, clear like a glass ringing out from the tap of a spoon at the start of a large banquet toast.
She manages not to bite her tongue as she replies with shining eyes, "Ophelia!" and Athanasia thinks it over. Did "help" really fit with this girl?
She shakes her head in her mind before she lowers her hand and pats the girl on her soft hair, just once- before she whirls around and clutches at the brooch securing her cloak with fingers that whiten at the strength behind her grasp.
Celestine followed behind, sparing a glance behind her at the girl before she catches up with her liege that was not much older than the child they had left behind.
Ophelia runs out of the dark alley and into the light of the cobblestone road, her fingers twirling in her hair as she watches Athanasia disappear into the crowd.
A single lock of silver escapes from her hood and the sunlight seems to bring sparkles into her vision, knowing that the person who saved her was different from other people.
Countless times this had happened and everyone looked away, but not her.
Ophelia's eyes look down at her tiny hands and she makes up her mind; that she would be like her savior when she grew up- that strength would be borne from the encounter today.
She turns away, a smile spreading across her face as she picks up the coins that fell out from her father's pockets when he fled from the scene. A new hour, a new way to live.
Celestine watched the young girl dip her head to Athanasia as her highness came back to her side.
She walked hurriedly to their original destination, wanting to make it back to the people that were waiting for her, and her eyes slide over the girl's frail figure before she follows Athansia's footsteps.
She had a younger brother that would be the same age as that girl by now. Her eyes don't tell of her past, but she could see it like it had been just a minute before.
She had been sold off to the church the moment her holy powers had awakened, and for what? She could still remember what her parents had told her as they held the shining gold in their hands.
"It's for the best, Celestine! You'll be cared for by the church and we can concentrate on raising Edward as heir to the house! Look child, you're just a girl. You weren't going to be the heir anyways, so this has all worked out in everyone's favor!"
She could still see the way her brother had clung to her mother's skirts and feigned being shy to send her off properly, and how her parents had doted on the son that had been a miracle to them in their older age.
Her brother who had looked back at her with a sneer on his still chubby face and she had almost lunged at the little bastard herself, wanting to catch him by the throat and seize his entrails until he hung dead from her grasp.
Her house would fall the moment Edward took the worn-out reins as heir and perhaps then her parents would see what the choice they had chosen to make had brought them anything but pride.
Celestine's smile was purer than the rays of moonlight as she hid her conniving thoughts well.
Her highness was the best person to follow, and Celestine was looking forward to the day they would all find their purpose.
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