Monachopsis

chapter one: pluviophile

It's the day of Princess Simone's coronation, and it's raining.
The eldest sister is dressed in a silky silver gown, jeweled belt heavy on her narrow hips. Simone always dresses for business, and even now, her coronation gown is nothing too fancy - sleek, streamlined, showing just enough cleavage to be considered sexy but not scandalous. Her high cheekbones glitter with highlighter, her hair curled into long, dark ringlets. She isn't wearing any makeup other than light concealer, always opting for natural over artificial. Yet she is stunning, easily the prettiest out of the three of them, perfect posture and wise, dark eyes flecked with lighter brown.
The rain pours outside the huge, arched windows as the young soon-to-be queen sweeps by.

The coronation occurs indoors because of the rain, and only important officials are allowed to be physically present while the other dimensions watch through screens. The room is beautiful, decked in gold and silver decorations. A pastel blue carpet is rolled out, leading to an arch of silver flowers specifically designed in case of bad weather.
"So they're going to broadcast your coronation to every dimension?" Forain asks excitedly.
"I wanna be on camera," pouts Cecelia, looking bitter. Simone pats her on the head.
"Don't worry, our family portrait will be broadcast everywhere, as well." Forain wonders for a moment. It's a strange thought, that a picture of the hand-painted portrait of the three sisters at their current ages would be shown everywhere, not just available to see in their palace home anymore.

"Fifteen years old and the new queen of Castello Di Luce? Impressive."
"She didn't earn it, you know. She was forced into the role. Since Queen Dea is dead."
"Died in the war with Dividia."
Forain ignores the whispers as she walks Simone down the aisle between the crowds. They knock at her mind's door and whisper into the cracks in her armor, but she dismisses them to the best of her ability.
The rain pours.

"The coronation of Princess Simone Prudentia Actanonverba will now commence!" A tall, slender woman, young but with long, bone-white hair, raises her arms. Her name is Sayua, swift and fast as an arrow, with dark, gold-flecked eyes and massive, feathery white wings.
Sayua is in charge of the coronation as an angel who has protected the royal bloodline for centuries. Sayua and her most recent generation of elite guards, known as the Angels of Death (though the only real angel was Sayua), have guarded the royal family of Castello di Luce since the creation of the kingdom. No one is exactly sure where they came from, which had caused some distrust in the beginning, but eventually, the people had come to appreciate the powers of the Angels and respect them for their work to protect the kingdom's monarchs. And now, a new queen was to be crowned - a new target. A new person to protect.
"Do you, Simone Prudentia Actanonverba, take this crown and this throne, to uphold with honor, loyalty, compassion, and bravery to lead this kingdom and its people?"
"I do."
"And do you promise to work for the good of the people and the land?"
"I do."
"Then raise your head and accept this crown with the confidence to lead our people into prosperity."
Simone lifts her head, turning her beautiful face to the crowd, taking the crown - decorated with moonstones and lapis lazulis - and placing it upon her own head. "Queen Simone Prudentia Actanonverba, rise. All hail the new queen!"

Forain and Cecelia watch from behind, smiling and clapping for the cameras and for their sister. Forain shoots Cecelia a glance.
"Smile more. Aren't you excited for her?"
"No, because her coronation means Mom is really dead." Cecelia's eyes are watery as she fans at her face with a hand. "It means she's not queen anymore."
Forain stares blankly into the lense of a large camera, smile plastered onto her face. "Don't cry. Your eyes will get puffy, and we'll look bad in the magazines. We don't want to embarrass Simone."
Cecelia glares at her. "Oh, shut up, Forain." She sniffles, dabbing at her eyes. Forain shrugs. If she wanted to cry, she should've done it off camera, Forain thinks, irritated.
"You don't really care, do you? It's been ten years. You don't even remember her. You were a baby when she died."
Cecelia sighs. "Doesn't mean I'm not sad about it."
Forain watches her for a moment, before suddenly bursting out into laughter. "Ohhh, I get it now! You're jealous, aren't you?" The peach-haired girl giggles, bringing a hand to her mouth to smother her laughter. "You want to be queen!"
The youngest sister frowns. "Isn't that what everybody wants?"
Forain shakes her head, grinning. "Ha, what a thought! You, as queen?" She flicks her hair over her shoulder, smug.

"You can't be queen unless you're the only sister left."