Jennette Margarita is the well-known outsider inside the palaces, left alone to her own devices, never being able to wander anywhere.
No one explicitly says anything out of place to forbid her, but when she's sick, no one tends to her immediate needs.
They ignore her when she peeks into the other palaces, she's long given up on trying to pull anyone to her side, at least inside the palaces.
It's like she steps on eggshells around people lower in rank than her- a princess.
She knows she shouldn't- but her outbursts get more frequent- especially at the servants that frequent the Ruby Palace, and they slowly decrease until she's practically doing the chores on her own.
Hands rubbed raw by soap root that she had snatched from the maid's quarters during their working hours, instead of the smooth, buttery consistency of the best soap money could buy.
Feet, dry from washing her own clothes when she has nothing to wear in a hurry. Her long, brown hair, coarse and uneven throughout when she tries to trim the ends.
Undignified, desperate- useless.
These words swirled around her as if she's stuck in a storm, and she couldn't stop hating the people that snickered at her when she hurried through the halls to try and catch either father or Athanasia and failed on both sides.
The palaces were filled with Athanasia's supporters, of all ranks and sizes- those who had known her since birth and had cared for her every step of the way, even now. A loyal knight and duke by her side, never straying too far. The love of a father, and of the empire..
All Jennette had once before, in another realm, in another life- she had clawed for them, sneaking into the Emerald Palace to take dresses.
Dresses that seemed to glitter at how expensive they were, how they seemed to fit too tight or too short on her, bespoke dresses that were custom ordered for Athanasia's body measurements.
All too telling that she wasn't perfect like Athanasia was- even her measurements seemed fitting for a princess.
When Athanasia had worn this dress, just a few days ago, it had looked as if it hung on her every curve, accentuating her small waist to unbelievable proportions.
The lace didn't look tacky along her shoulders, the open back showing off her pale skin, how father had settled his hand along the small of Athanasia's back.
Even as herself, Jennette couldn't take her eyes away from her younger sister, the sister that had everything going so well for her. Everything given to her on a silver platter, being the gold spoon she was born to be.
Her path laid out in front of her from the moment she was born, taken into the main palace, and the Emerald Palace at a young age, far younger than those before her with her intelligence.
Mr. Alpheus had bemoaned this to himself one night, when Jennette had saw him downing drinks as if the day would never rise again.
When he saw her hanging in the darkness just outside his office, he had stalked over to her, grabbing her shoulders, and leaning in close, the smell of whiskey on his breath.
He had told her of how she was special, more so beyond anyone, beyond compare- but now Jennette could see who he was really speaking of. In the mirror was no one but her. Athanasia was beyond her reach.
Athanasia de Alger Obelia. The crown princess, the beautiful girl, her smart, little sister with everything that Jennette could never get.
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