↳ ੈ‧₊ 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘.wmmapˎˊ˗

* ੈ✩‧₊˚𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎

⇣ 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂？⇡

Family. Whether you are tied by blood or tied with connections, you are family. Family is not something you can decide the second you get a brain. Your mother will always be your mother. If she hits you, if she curses at you, or even if she forgets about you, she is your mother, tied by blood. That title can be lost through pain and suffering. It can be given through love and hope. But by the name of science, she is your mother. She gave birth to you, and perhaps she may have raised you or not. She is your mother, without a doubt. Blood will always be thicker than water, but the river always runs deeper.

You were in a carriage, staring at the long river. The Cyril River is the name. It is known to be very fast, as if it was in a rush somewhere or something. However, when you look at it from a not so far distance, it looks calm and quiet. The river does not speak, but even dogs may want a peak, seeing its reflection and the bone that is held by its teeth.

You are quiet. It has been 40 minutes since you've left the Ruby Palace. You had readied your suitcase and went off. Maybe you will stay in the house. Maybe you will find an inn if it gets too late.

Just two days ago, your dear 'friend' had left and was gone. She left you a note that your family had wanted to see, delivered by a man with black hair. She named him as if he were mysterious. Though such thoughts right now are useless to you. Not when you think about the foreign memories that do not belong to you.

Multiple candles are lit in the very big room with very little furniture. A man sits in the comfortable and big chair, in front of his large desk with many papers stacking so tall, Rapunzel's tower might as well need to compete. He looks at his papers in one hand, as the other is writing down random information.

Disrupting the cold silence in the room, the doors slam open, revealing you.

"Father! I'm going to become a mistress for the Emperor!" You yelled. Your heart is clenching on the news that has been accepted as of today. Your cherry-picked red dress is ruffled as your hair is just as messy. You sweat from having run down the flight of stairs.

When you look at your father, his eyes glow a lavender-hazy purple as he looks up at you.

“Of course you are,” he says as he shuffles through the papers. “When will you stop? That man doesn’t love a thing like you at all. I bet he doesn’t even remember your name. Beat it girl…”

“Do you even remember my name?” You ask him. “All you call me is ‘girl’! My name, do you even know what it is, Father?!” you screamed. Your head starts to pound viciously, and your fingers start to curl.

Your father stares dead into your soul. Your mouth is shut tight and unmovable. “[Name]. That is your name, no?” You stare at him, slumped and angered. The candles almost blow away as the air starts to freeze. No candle, no fireplace can make this place warm.

“I want to be a concubine. I know he loves me.” You look up at him with fury burning vigorously more than the tiny light. “I know-”

“SMACK!”

Right when you were going to spout any more words, a hand shot across your face. Your cheek pounds in red as a tear slides down from the same side where you were smacked. You turn to your side to see who has smacked you.

Your mother looks down at you in some shape known to many but you. Her look is dead. Like a dead end, like dead meat, like a stupid little girl who has realized her fate.

“Will you even make money? Will you steal from that place and send it back here so we can pay off the debt?” She tells you. Grabbing your shoulders, iron bars from hell burn the entirety of your body. You are nothing against her.

“Becoming something as low as that, are you even sure that you are worth that much?” There is no place where your rationality can fit. Not even emotions. Why would they give you such a look? Look at you, like some dumb dog on the street? Like a beggar or a peasant?

“This family’s name doesn’t go down, [Name], we go up!” Her eyes shone green, but looked like they were burning red from anger. “How could you do that to us? Me?! The woman who gave birth to you? The one who raised you. Gave you everything you could ever wish for? Are you trying to kill me, girl? Are you trying to kill your Father? Look at me, Lavinia!”

Many stories had raced throughout the ears of many. Lavinia. She is not you. You are not her. Though it was a matter of reflection, you are not her. She is gone. Gone with the wind. Gone from everything. There were only stories told about her and one memory you had known.

Lavinia. Oh, the good and pure Lavinia. The Lavinia that should’ve survived. The Lavinia who would listen and sing to the sky, as it will cry when it hears her voice, and make a rainbow during the aftermath.

You hated her. You hated many people. Terrorized many people. You had gone so far just so he could glance your way. So he can look at you, stare at you, fall for you. You would crack grins when he snarled down your path.

‘He’s just playing hard to get. Yes, that’s it.’ Is what you would tell yourself. You could feel your stomach do backflips off the walls you hid behind. Where you watched him. Coldly. Lovingly.

And every time, you would think back about those memories you had shared with him. Lavinia tears it all apart.

If she was in your shoes, she would have definitely made Claude fall for her in seconds. He wouldn’t even need to play hard to get. He’d be at her heel. Then, you would stare out at your window. And think. Think about everything. Think about your stupidity. Think about your strange ways. Think and think until there is nothing to think about at all.

In the tallest tower. There is a girl who looks out her window. She stares at the rain that touches the ground she does not see. However, she knows, a voice from below, will call her. Her prince-charming. Her beloved. Her world. Her mono.

In this life, you thought it would be a romance.

The fairy of love sings a song. She sings about the hell you will see and bring to others. A place where you will get your karma. If you step foot on the castle of many thorns, and the rubies are its loving flowers. There will be no light of day. There will be no magical rain you look at.

Instead, there will only be red. Red rubies who are still in their place. Motionless against the word of fate. Repenting is no more when you are not alive. When you are no longer a thing to admire. To wear. To flash and fawn over. You are nothing, but become everything with the world.

"Miss! We have arrived." Snapping out of a tiny slumber, you look out to see the manor. It's slate in color and plain in everything else. When you take a step out, you see bushes of roses. Thorned to the brim.

☆

The Dog and the Bone line from the second paragraph was based on Aesop's Tales. The fairy thing is from Chapter 10. If it doesn't make sense, don't worry, I looked at this and thought, "WTF?" The flashback isn't you, you. This never happened to you. But this did happen to the previous owner of the body. Yes, she was a weirdo. Obsessed with Claude. So much so that she pulled a lot of sh*t.