Chapter 15: First Princess
*Clap*
The chandelier overhead turned on, magical lights illuminating the room. Colors turned brighter, and the room almost looked happy and comfortable.
*Clap*
Darkness returned. Color drained. The dark navy blue bed covers felt cool and inviting. Lulling an occupant into eternal slumber. The clouds became overcast, shading mid-morning sunlight. The french doors derived from mostly glass lead the way to the three-story balcony. A veranda to elsewhere.
*Clap*
Light swallowed the darkness. The ornate dark purple carpet switching back to a lighter violet. Maroon drapes hung from two squat windows to either side of the balcony. Grains in the ebony wood bedpost became a lighter Spruce.
*Clap*
Her world cast in shadow. A reflection disappeared. She became invisible for the brief moments it took for her eyes to adjust. Slowly, through the refracted light that wormed its way past thick winter clouds, her image reappeared. Dark purple irises framed by white. Shining through a cage of long eyelashes. Pink lips parted slightly in a silent word. A dark lace choker covered her neck.
Raising her hands in front of her face slowly, she slammed them together.
*CLAP*
Illusion faded. Comfortable obscurity became disgustingly real. Dim circles framed her eyes. Her previously porcelain skin looking gaunt and ill. Lips chapped.
A horrid bruise ringed her throat, a choking snake.
"Hah."
A dry laugh escaped Lecil's throat. The dense cloud cover overhead parted for a moment, mixing natural light with magical. Her head drooped connect with a hand. Shoulders jerking. The delicate hand covered her face as she tried to contain the emotion.
Useless, It spilled over. Out of a cup already overflowing. She couldn't prevent a morose chuckle from escaping her cracked lips. Sliding her hand through knots in order to pull back a tangled bedhead, she smiled crazily at her own reflection. Breathing through her too perfect nose, she laughed.
"It's a clapper."
=
Lecil knew how to do her own makeup. She learned fast. When she got it wrong in the past and would be made fun of, she would cry herself to sleep—such a silly thing to cry about, looking back. The people who insulted or demeaned her would have found something else to use against her, even if her makeup was flawless. And they did too. Oh, your eyebrows are too thick. Your lips are pale. Why don't you cut those bangs already? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were trying to hide a pimply forehead.
Wait...
Was all that me? Celia... Maybe it was Celia who had acne.
Either way, Lecil now had memories from another life. She knew her entire life was a game. That her emotions had been manipulated. That she was made to cry herself to sleep every night. There was a reason she cut her wrists when she turned sixteen. A reason she was saved but just looked down upon as mentally unstable. And there must be a goddamn purpose to why she hasn't been able to get more than a few hours of shut-eye in the last week.
Remembering the game was hard. It was hazy in some spots, but Celia clearly remembered someone mentioning her lack of sleep in the first event, discounting Tristan's interaction.
Why? Who knows. The developers were cruel. Maybe it is actually just Lecil who is having trouble sleeping. Adapting to the download of new memories. Maybe the game just tells a story. Or maybe she was still being manipulated.
Not a single person came to visit her other than that same maid, Irene. She never says more than a few words when dropping off food. When Lecil tried to talk to her, she was entirely ignored. As if the maid wasn't scripted to talk. No one else visited her, and whenever she tries to leave, she gets the irresistible urge to crawl back into bed. An unavoidable tiredness caused Lecil to lie back down in bed, to fail falling asleep, subsequently reliving both lives' memories, trying to open the door again, and repeat.
"Fuck this game."
The words were very unladylike. However, Lecil liked the word. She never really cursed before this, and Celia had some really fun expletives.
Lecil looked at herself in the mirror. Ruby lips and porcelain skin. Combed back black hair that fell softly down her back. Long eyelashes fluttering. And yet...
Lecil tried to apply eyeliner for the fourth time. Her hand curved off again, drawing a black line to the edge of her eye socket. Enraged, she cleaned the mess up again. She was trying to hide the dark circles under her eyes using any method possible without being extra. None of them worked. She either kept messing up, or they showed through anyway. She wanted to throw on some shades and brush it off as a phase when asked.
"It's going to happen soon... Isn't it? Surely, soon..."
Any longer and she would go insane. The boredom and the monotony. At least let her live a little bit. Instead, she was stuck in this accursed room. There had to be a way out of the loop. The first way was to wait for an event to start. There was one coming soon, she knew, but a better option needed to be possible.
Maybe things are being controlled by magic? This game does have a form of magic. What if the game is using that magic to write people a certain way? Make them follow certain actions, forget that they are doing it. If such a theory were correct, then the magic would be focused elsewhere soon.
"It can't be unlimited...Right?"
The only evidence that helped her think it was possible was simply... a thrown chair.
Back when Lecil was quite literally flipping her shit, Lecil threw a chair at the door. The maid wasn't expecting that. It wasn't part of the opening scenario either. The upsetting bit was that she grabbed the chair afterward, without thinking about it at all, and then sat back down. That was how she was still sitting when Tristan barged in. Because the chair was crucial to the event.
The only reason she could think of that caused it to work was overwhelming emotion. The only way to break her pacification was actually to start flipping shit.
What if she tried talking to the maid again? It should be easier to interact outside restrictions with a non-important character. She had a semi-success already. Maybe if she tried really hard this time...
A knock at the door. Lunch-time. Lecil grinned.
"Come in."
Her voice sounded meek, entirely unlike how she was feeling.
The doors opened. The same maid as previous walked a cart of food and tea in.
"I've prepared lunch, princess."
Lecil was silent. Why was she silent? She was certainly trying to speak. Couldn't she not do it at all? Not even a thank you? The game was making her out as heartless.
"Then..."
The maid spoke familiar words.
Lecil said the same thing while in a trance. A soft hand halted her steps, gentle compared to those before it. Words. Blurry. A face? Lecil had come out of the trance for a brief moment in response. What did he say... Wait... was it a he? Who...
The maid was walking away. Lecil came out of the foggy memory.
No! Come back.
The words were a lump in her throat. Lecil reached out an arm. Her body straining with effort.
Stop. Don't go. Talk to me!
A ticking clock. The maid followed her script, not even looking back.
Anger... Rage! Channel your all-mighty rage, Celia! You can do it! Start cursing up a storm. DO IT!
Her mouth opened in silence. The maid grabbed the door handle and was pulling it closed. Lecil wanted to scream, but the words didn't come out. Never meant to be spoken.
"Wait-"
The doors shut.
Lecil's knees caved in as she collapsed, sweating and panting. She failed! They tried so hard to do it, too. To change the script. To make things different. To have a single person to talk to besides herself.
They were going insane in here.
=
Finally, the time came. The doors opened without preamble.
"Father wants to see you."
Kly, the second prince, stood in the doorway. He wore the same placid look as always. Uncaring.
Lecil stood facing the door, holding up the hem of her dark green dress. It covered all the scars and fading bruises and the line across her throat. She'd been standing there for thirty minutes, waiting.
"I've been expecting it. I will go now."
Kly simply nodded and walked away, displaying a 0%.
There was slight room for free actions and words but she could never have denied the audience. It was scripted. The only way to break the curse was to go along for now.
Lecil realized that she hadn't been told where the king was waiting for her. A jab of his own flavor. It was supposed to slow her down and make her scramble. Fortunately, she knew the King was in his office, going over paperwork with one of the officials. Hastily, she made her way through the corridors. The light cast through the colored glass windows made her nauseous. Her heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor.
The staff in the hallway moved out of her way but never bowed. She didn't deserve it somehow, despite being royalty. The palace was needlessly large. It served as decoration more than a functional living space. Her room was also one of the farthest from anything else important.
After a hasty walk, she arrived. She could hear muffled words through the doorway. Eavesdropping wasn't in her nature, but it was in Celia's. Neither of them minded doing it now. She stood safely away from the door, in case it flew open and acting like she was just afraid to go in.
"The Northerners are moving closer.... as... there is.... along the South. Richter is...."
It sounded like there was a war brewing. Maybe more than one. Richter? She didn't know that name. Maybe it was a diplomat or simply an assistant.
She couldn't hear any words that the King spoke. None of the others' clipped words were decipherable. Deciding she wouldn't get any useful information, Lecil knocked twice.
Silence and a short moment later, the door opened. A scholarly looking man opened it, standing in her way for a moment. The man looked down at her and whispered.
"Princess, you don't look well. Have you been getting enough sleep?"
That's it? Just a comment from an extra. I wrestled through an entire week of sleeplessness for that.
Lecil couldn't flip him off or respond. A fake smile plastered her face.
"Who is it, Feor?"
Feor realized his actions and stepped aside to let the King see who it was.
"Lecil? Right... We'll talk more later, Feor. I have business with my daughter."
Have you ever thought of me as your daughter? You always ignore the signs right in front of you...
"Yes, your majesty. I'll take my leave then."
Lecil didn't step aside for Feor and made him squeeze past her without touching her. It was a funny sight. Sometimes inaction was useful.
"Come in and shut the door behind you."
"Yes, Father."
The use of the word felt odd on her tongue. Had the King ever acted like a father? She remembered having a loving father and mother in a two-story suburban. An adorable puppy and a pet parrot. A family. Now...
Lecil closed the door and walked in wordlessly. The clicking of her shoes softened by an expensive rug.
"You called for me?"
The King sat at his desk, backlit by fading light. There were a few magical lights around the room that added a soft atmosphere. It was contradicted by the permanent scowl written on the King. Interlocking his fingers, he intoned.
"You are almost of age now, and you haven't chosen a suitor. I have held off simply because I am busy, but now that there are less than two years left before you turn twenty, it is time you made a decision."
Lecil wanted to roll her eyes. This moment was the first choice in the game. It didn't matter much. In the game, the player got to review her options and speak aloud what her preference was. It didn't lock in her decision, but it would set the stage for the next encounter. Depending on her answer, she'd spawn an event.
"I refuse to marry you off to the northern barbarians or the backstabbing desert dwellers. I'll let you choose from one of the Ducal households. They each have a son around your age."
Duke Raiden was twenty-two. He succeeded his household at the age of twenty after receiving numerous commendations during skirmishes along the southern border. His parents retired extremely early, choosing to spend the rest of their lives in a beach villa instead of managing the house.
Duke Astor is the youngest sibling in his family. Despite having two older sisters, the Dukedom was passed down to him. It wasn't purely due to sexism. It was mainly because he excelled in mathematics and had a talent for business. He already runs most of the family's businesses and is the richest of the three dukes. He is only 18, the same age as her.
Lastly, Duke Sallow. The problem child. Right now, he still hasn't succeeded his house and there are questions among higher circles as to whether or not his younger sibling will take his place as the Ducal heir. However, Lecil knew that Bellavarn Sallow would succeed his household through nefarious means. He would go on to rebel against the kingdom—the worst path to her continued survival.
Each choice was terrible. None of the Dukes liked her. Raiden was the best option, with her affection-level starting out at 10%. Mainly due to her attractive appearance. Astor had a variable percentage based on their first meeting. He wanted his wife to be smart and knowledgeable, able to keep up with him. It can start anywhere between 0% and 15%.
Bellavarn Sallow, upon their first meeting, would have a negative reputation of -30%. Why? No idea. The game developers wanted to make a challenge. If Raiden was the "easy" route and Astor was the "playstyle" route, then Sallow was for those who wanted the ultimate challenge. No one had conquered his route. There were no guides or hints. Anything you did could set him off. With such a negative percentage, it was no wonder Lecil was killed on sight. The only way to raise it was through indirect communication or events.
"What is your decision?"
To her bewilderment, a screen popped up in front of her. It read:
1. "I wish to stay with family."
2. "I prefer Duke Raiden."
3. "Duke Astor is the best choice."
4. "I choose Duke Sallow."
This is it! Her only chance.
The secret in the game mechanics. It was published on social media as a "WTF" option. Secret things were supposed to be good, so why add something that actually makes the game more difficult? Celia had scoffed at the option in the past, but now it was her saving grace.
"I wish to be free."
The pleasure from seeing the reaction in the King's eyes was a prize in-of-itself. The king waved a hand.
"Then speak freely. I am giving you a choice, after all."
The magic vanished. The floating box disappeared. Lecil could breathe! Had she been inhaling stale air this entire time. Her lungs were free. Her voice was free. She was free!
Of course, she still had to make a choice. She couldn't click her heels together and magically go back home or live happily ever after. No, this choice allowed her free will to move about in the game. Write whatever she wished into existence. Say whatever she wanted.
It was a curse for most players, unwilling to be creative in their answers and not being able to rely on multiple-choice to get by. It had so many more options for failure and death. But there were equal options for life and secret events.
Thinking over the best option, Lecil tilted her head and gave the most innocent and pure smile her pretty little face could muster. She spoke with her own voice at last, even if the words were bitter.
"I understand I need to choose a partner, Father. But I wish to take more time to make a proper decision. I would like to ask to remain at home to support my older brothers and help little Anne grow up."
Grey eyebrows inched up ever so slightly.
"I thought you didn't get along with your siblings. Has that changed while I haven't been looking?"
Lecil bowed her head. When she looked up, her eyes were watery.
"It is true we haven't got along. Still, I wish to support my family in what they do. If you grant me the chance, father, I am sure we will all make up. If you can postpone me getting engaged another year, or just a few months, I am positive that I will be of use to brother Tristan and brother Kly."
The crocodile tears worked. The King was considering it. Taking her chance, she hammered the nail into the coffin.
"Little Anne wished for the two of us to spend more time together. It would be a shame for my engagement to get between us."
"I see. Well, another few months won't hurt. But I expect you to make a decision by the end of next summer."
Anne is the King's soft spot. Stating it was all for her pushed the King over the edge.
"Thank you, Father! I am sure Anne will be overjoyed."
=
"That bitch postponed her engagement! How? I thought I made it clear to father to get rid of her! Useless waste of space. I'll rip all her clothes and make sure she can't leave her room without going naked! She'll rue her decision to stay behind. I'll make her life a living hell and make sure Tristan and Kly both do the same. She'll wish she was never born. That stupid, little, worthless, infuriating tramp! I'll... I'll... UGH!"
=
Meanwhile... Lecil snored. Safe and sound. Fast asleep.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone