One needed to remember that there were three things that must exist in harmony for a soul to survive within nobility's harsh lands.
A title that gave one a rank, power that could be wielded, and finally, wealth that needed no explanation.
Appearances were not everything, though they did give drive in acceptance, so it didn't hurt that she had that too.
Her eyes land upon Roger Alpheus, one who had rejoiced when she had left the Empire, for his bloodline would get to become one with the Imperial family- the engagement from their youth had continued, and Jennette was still head over heels for Ijekiel.
To which Athanasia felt a slight contempt for those feelings couldn't possibly be returned to someone who Ijekiel only looked upon as an annoyance since he had to share the attention from his father with her who wasn't even of the blood.
Roger Alpheus...I know now that divine punishment will never come down upon you like the hammer of god, so instead, let me bring down the wrath of an Emperor that will never cease to live.
Athanasia's devious smirk doesn't appear on her face, instead- continuing to simmer below the surface, like a snake that lay curled in the dead leaves until prey came across it, and only then would they deem fit to strike to swallow it whole.
She would help Ijekiel, the one who gave her something in return for nothing but his heart in a time, place, that was no longer.
In all her lives she had her looks and her title.
Her title as princess gave her immense power, not that she knew very well how to use it, and in almost all the cases, she had died without having used it to its full potential.
She was an Emperor now.
Those people who had raked her over the coals as they laughed at her when attending balls? She could have them arrested and tried for lèse majesté, but she hadn't.
She had instead cowered away into the darkness and cried over the sorrows and misfortunes.
The bridge of her nose wrinkled as she gritted her teeth, the whites of her teeth showing as she felt her mana bubbling up in her unforgotten rage at her treatment all those years ago.
She had to keep her decorum, however, and she had managed to hide this unseemly expression behind a guise just in time.
All the other people could see was an expressionless face that was bright with her youth and well-kept beauty.
She had insurmountable wealth with her father's name, just by bloodline alone, she had access to the Imperial vaults, but she had never dared to cry out for help as she watched as her valuables were stolen away from the Ruby Palace.
She had been a princess just in name, had power in the wealth that was left to rot, and her beauty had tarnished itself as she had no way to take care of her self-confidence.
In time, everything had diminished until she was nothing but "the second princess", "the unloved princess", "the abandoned princess", "the half-blood", and "poor thing."
Now? She still had that wealth, her blood and eyes were living proof of that.
But on her own, she had amassed a wealth that was comparable to what was in the vaults here in Obelia, and she had spent many nights gazing at the shining gold and silver piled up in the space magic.
How the coins felt as they slipped through her fingers, pinging off the floor.
How she stacked them on top of each other, only to knock them over, and their glossy shine reflected off her eyes, and she thinks- it would have been better to have an obvious flaw like Midas.
Instead, she was stuck with this uncomfortable state of mind, and though she had plenty will power to keep it in check, her temper snarled out from the confines of herself.
This was useful in war, on the political playing field, but did she have the confidence to become a ruler that was worthy of keeping the throne?
She raised her head and somehow her eyes meet her father's, and she sees resignation in those depths that were the same as hers, and yet with a pride that was obvious.
She had seen the rose garden as she had turned to the opposing windows, a garden that had not been there when she had left, and her inner suspicions rang true as she saw in the far distance, a delicately arching boat docked at the lake.
She meets his eyes again and sees an apprehension that mirrored hers, and she inwardly sighs before dipping her head to a careful angle, her voice steady, yet full of the promise of power.
Her smile is coolly detached, no defiance to be seen as she looks at her father in the flesh, for the first time in many years.
Pale skin showing at her shoulders, her thin arms, her delicate legs, no scars to be seen on her neck or face, yet people knew that those who came back from war without any visible scars were to be feared more than those who came out with those that were visible.
A white canine glints as she snuffs out a badly timed giggle, pushing down her upturned lips before anyone could notice, for sowing fear was one of her primary goals today.
Have you ever heard that having a ruler that is feared is better than one that is loved? If she has both, it would be the optimal setup for her reign, and it wouldn't be seen as gilding the lily.
A dull glow is seen on her finger was a platinum signet ring with her crest engraved upon the metal.
"Athanasia de Ove Luaya is my name, We greet Emperor Claude de Alger Obelia of the Obelian Empire."
She doesn't pause before barreling on. "I do hope that you have been well since our last meeting."
Nothing about her greeting could be construed as anything but mutual respect and polite courtesy from one Imperial royal to another.
To outsiders it might have seemed odd, they all knew the second princess had never felt the affection of her father, what was to say that they had ever met?
It could very well be their first-ever meeting as father and daughter, except it was also their first meeting as Emperor and Emperor, both standings as high as the sky could reach as they were both heads of empires.
They didn't know she was referring to the last time they truly met.
That day in the rose gardens.
That day she had seen his golden protection mana surround her, knowing he had truly cared for her.
That day he had killed her, with his hand around her throat.
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