Chapter Text
2 weeks since arriving at Rask, 1 month since Hybern
The dress is beautiful. It has a pale pink-ish colour with golden embroidery. It’s made of the best silk in Rask, I was told, and was manufactured exclusively for me by the best tailors and sewists of the Empire, honored to work for their future empress. It’s now hanging from in a clear bag in the huge closet that is in my new chambers.
The dress is hideous.
-What do you think about it, Lazire? - I ask.
The shadows form the blurry shape of a cat, who lays down in the bed.
-It is pretty. - he answers. - The manufacturer was an excellent...
-I know it is pretty - I spit. - That is not the question.
The shadows recoil at my tone.
Lazire stays silent, clearly shocked at my harsh reaction. When he finally speaks again, he does it with a cautious tilt.
-Are you insecure about how it will look on you?
I look at the dress, then at the full-length mirror in the room, staring back at my own reflection.
-If only it were black. - I mumble. - Or purple.
I sigh loudly and put on the dress. It fits me like a glove, and the fabric is soft and airy. I look again at the mirror.
-I was right.
-What?
-I was right. -I repeat. Lazire was really distracted today.- It’s hideous. I mean, look at me.
It was, in fact, horrible. The warm pink fabric brutally clashed with my extremely pale skin and jet-black hair. It also highlights my body, which could very well be that of a chicken. I look away from the mirror and exit the closet. Lazire was still lying on the bed.
-Itzcuintzi, you know I cannot see...
-I know, I know. -I interrupt him. I have no wish of another lecture on how shadowsinging works.- But believe me, I look hideous. I genuinely don’t know what’s worse, the mismatching tones or the fact that I look like a...
-Do not say that. - he cuts me off. - Do not say you look too fat. I cannot see you, but whatever you look like, you do not look like a sausage.
-It’s true.
-Forgive me if I do not believe so.
We stay silent again, shadows humming between us, only record of the time passing is the ticking of the tiny clock.
-I have to go, Itzi. -he says suddenly.- I am sorry...
-It’s fine, Lazire. I’m tired anyway.
The shadow cat brushes against my hand and slowly melts into the shadows.
I go back to the closet and change into a sleeveless, pastel blue nightgown. I look at the mirror one more time. He is wrong. I do look like a sausage.
I turn my head and I approach my bed. It is giant, with four posters and black sheets. The frame is carved from what appears to be black stone, and seems to be a single piece.
My eyelids start closing against my will. I stop thinking about the bed and just lay down. It’s comfortable and warm to my surprise, and the matress feels like a cloud. I snuggle up a bit more, and slowly drift into darkness.
It burns. Mother, it burns so much.
My face is buried in the matress, muffling my groans and cries of pain alongside with the gag. The only sounds are the ones of flesh against flesh and his moanings of pleasure. Gods, it burns.
Suddenly, he pulls out, grabs the chain of my collar and pulls. The tiny spikes on the collar dig into my skin. It hurts, but it is nothing comparable to the deep burn between my legs.
He roughly drags me out of the bed and into the corridor. We are both completely naked and I’m unable to move due to the chains. It burns so much.
We stop at a red door. No. Not her.
He loudly knocks on the door, opens it and drags me into the room.
-Ah, - a female voice says. - you got tired of playing on your own, brother? Very well. - she says in a monotonous voice.- Onto the table.
I try to fight, to drag myself out, but he’s got a tight grip on the chains that bind me. He looks at me with that look. I stop moving entirely.
He smiles slowly and slaps me hard in the face. Then he takes me into his arms and roughly lays me on the table. I weakly try to resist it as he binds me to the table with a snap of his fingers. The chains squeeze so tightly I can barely breathe. Another snap of fingers and the gag disappears.
-No. - I say, terrified.
-Shhh, baby girl. - says Brannagh with a sewing needle and thread on her fingers. She runs her fingers through my hair. I try to pull away, but she pulls back.- Don’t beg. Save that voice of yours.
She looks at her brother.
-Dagdan. - She moves her head towards me.
She moves to my center needle in hand while he brings his cock to my mouth and forces it in. He starts thrusting into my mouth as I feel something cold in my center. Something sharp and biting. The needle keeps pricking until it manages to pierce me. Then she passes the thread and repeats the process on the other side. I hear a small delicate sound. She dropped the needle. Then, I feel the thread tightening. A piercing, high and sharp scream exits my body.
“Stop it. Please just make it stop. Please. Someone. Anyone”
-My lady...
“Please.”
-My lady!
Someone is shaking my arm. I jump out off the bed and throw my arms at whatever is in front of me. The woman grabs them and I kick her in the knee. She doesn’t budge. With a swift move she surrounds me with her arms, trying to immobilise me. I still move compulsively, arms and legs moving incoherently. I want to get out. I kick her. And then again.
-Shhh, child. - she whispers in my ear. “Brannagh”.
I start screaming and moving more frantically. I can feel it crackling beneath my skin, ready to burst out. She lets me go and I run into the huge closet and hide between the silks.
I cover myself up with the expensive clothing. “What happened? Who did this to her?” I hear the woman think. “Who r...?”
I slam her door with all my strength.
I can’t breathe.
A horrible, putrid scent fills the room. Vomit.
A small, kind hand intertwines with mine. I look up. It’s the woman from before.
-I mean no harm, milady. - her mellow voice says. She speaks in a weird manner, rolling out the ‘r’s.
She is kneeled to my level. “When did I kneel?”. Slowly, she lifts her other hand and strokes my face delicately until my breaths are deep again. Then gets me up and out of the closet. My bare feet step onto the fresh vomit stain in the closet. I wince at the slimy texture.
-Don’t worry milady. I’ll sent someone to clean it. Come.
She gently leads me back to my chamber and sits me in the bed.
-Mylla! - she calls. A small girl around my age with striking golden hair comes in. - Prepare the lady a cup of tea and tell Vida to bring a bucket and a brush. How do you like your tea, milady?
I turn my head to look at her. She is a chubby older lady, with deep turquoise skin and hair. And she is smiling softly at me.
-Burning hot. -I answer after a while.- Burning hot with a dash of milk.
She looks back at the girl, Mylla.
-You heard the lady. Go.
Mylla runs out of the room. I look back at the elderly woman.
-Thanks, emm...
-Floss. My name is Floss.
I’m the housekeeper of his Imperial Majesty, and I’m soon to be your housekeeper, milady.
-And why are you here, Floss? - I ask. Housekeepers don’t usually attend the ladies. - Who sent you up here?
-The Empress Mother sent me. Your maids should be here any minute.
Right on cue, there’s a knock on the door.
-Come in! -Floss comands.
Two girls come in looking down, both of them older than me. The first one is quite similar to Floss, with her same complexion and traits, except this girl’s face is completely unreadable. But her thoughts give her away.
”Don’t be angry, don’t talk back, don’t be angry, don’t...”
I can’t help but smile a little.
The other one is the opposite of her fellow. She’s very tall, with dark skin and surprising silver hair. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the same discretion as her companion, as she’s visibly trembling.
-These are Iris and Argenta, milady. Your maids. -Floss says with a polite tone.- They will get you prepared for the ceremony.
Right. The ceremony is today. I am getting married today.
-So how is the emperor?
I am in a big tub in my private bathroom, covered in rose-scented soap. After Floss left, Iris and Argenta took me to the bathroom and prepared a bath while I undressed. Iris is scrubbing me with a soft sponge, while Argenta deals with my greasy hair.
The maids look at each other, but do not answer my question. Finally, Iris answers:
-He’s the emperor. - her voice is harsh and as stone. She looks at Argenta once more and continues scrubing my leg while I cover myself with the foam.
I look at Argenta, who’s massaging my head, and take a deep breath in. The rose scent is quite relaxing.
-You like it, milady? - she asks.
-I do, in fact. You’re excellent.
-Thanks, milady.
Iris comes up to me, sponge in hand.
-Arms up. - it almost feels like and order. She must have noticed too, for she adds.- Milady.
I look down. And then back at her.
-Give me the sponge. I will do it myself.
Iris gives me another look, a softer one this time. “Poor thing. What monster...?” I start scrubbing. It is sharp enough to scratch. Iris takes my arm. I look at her feeling a knot in my stomach.
-Not so hard, milady. -she says, guiding my hand, making it rub in small and soft circles against my skin.- There. That’s better.
She lets my hand go and I try doing it. She is right. It is better.
-Thanks. - I whisper. I am about to develop when I feel as though someone’s pouring ice-cold water over my head. I let out a high, shocked sound. I turn to Argenta, who is holding a empty bucket in her hand.
-Sorry milady. I had to wash...
I lift a hand to interrupt her.
-It’s okay, Argenta. Just warm up the water a bit the next time.
-Of course, milady.
After I am scrubbed, washed, scrubbed and cleaned again, my maids quickly wrap me in a pile of towels and use their magic to get me on the corset and the translucent tights without revealing a inch of my skin.
Once I am decently covered in the white and soft pink fabrics, they adjust a petticoat around my waist and put on the dress.
Then, Argenta does my hair in tiny delicate braids, and intertwines pink roses into them.
-Why roses? - I ask suddenly.
Argenta stops.
-Excuse me, milady?
-Why roses? Why pink?
-Oh. It’s the emperor’s favourite flower. And colour. - she answers whilst she puts clips in my hair. She takes a bowl of something that looks like fixator, and starts applying the sticky substance on my scalp. “Why is her hair so greasy...?” -Why, milady?
-Oh, I just wondered. - I answer. I am increasingly nervous.
Someone knocks at the door, and opens it. It’s Floss, and she looks...nervous. Scared, even.
She sees me and forces a smile, like reminding herself she’s to be happy.
-The Empress Mother wishes to see you, milady. Immediately.
-Impossible. - Iris replies. - Milady is not ready yet.
-But the Empress...
-Milady's about to be the Empress Consort. She’s ‘bout to be married to his Imperial Majesty. She must look perfect. That takes time. The Empress Mother'll wait.
I look at my maid with shock. In Hybern, no-one made royalty wait. No-one.
-It is okay, Iris. Maybe... - I start.
-With all due respect, milady, sit back down. Our work here ain't done.
I sit back down. Floss stares at her subordinate in anger. You do not need to be daemati to know she is scared they will get punished for this.
Iris ignores her and helps Argenta with the make-up. They apply powder, blush and lipstick on my face. After what it feels like forever, they turn away from me and bring a mirror in front of my face.
I do not know how have they done this, but somehow they managed to make my pale skin look a bit more tan, and they have accentuated my features with the blush. My pitch black eyes are decorated with pink and green eyeshadow, and my lips are painted in a shade of fuchsia. I look... good. Pretty, even.
-Do you like it? - I lift my face from the mirror. Iris and Argenta are looking at me like I am the best thing they have ever done.
-I love it. - I breathe out. - Thank you...
-The Empress Mother is waiting, milady. - Floss interrupts with a nervous tone.
I get up, give the mirror to Argenta and take a deep breath.
-Let’s not make her waiting then.
-You are late. -she says bluntly, no room left for discussion.
I look at her. The Empress is astonishing. She has golden skin and eyes, vivid green hair and a graceful figure. And all her attention is directed to me.
I bow to her as best I can; the petticoat makes it a bit hard.
-Umm. -She grabs my jaw.- You are very thin, aren’t you? Tell me, girl, how do you expect to bear my grandchildren when you weigh the same as a blade of hay? What are you, a weak peasant, with weak offspring?
-I assure you that I have the perfect...
-The perfect what, girl? Body? No, you most certainly do not. You are too thin. Small. Petty. Tomorrow you will start eating more.
I fight back my tears. I cannot put on more weight. But I cannot fight this woman.
-Yes, my lady.
-Your Grace. - She corrects.
-Your Grace. I will...
-I expect a grandson before your fifth anniversary.
That leaves me frozen in place.
-Excuse me? - the order is so perplexing that I cannot help myself.
-You heard me, girl. Mother, are all the Hybernesian as dumb and deaf as you? A grandson. A boy. Girls are useless. And then another. And another. As many sons as possible. Am I clear?
-Ye...ye...yes, my...your Grace.
-Very well. That is settled. Girlie! - she calls. A girl with golden hair comes in quickly. I recognize from earlier. Mylla.
-Accompany her back to her chambers. We are done.
I get up confused and hurt. but she’s right. I am a dumb, deaf, small and petty girl.
Back in my chambers, I cannot stop thinking about her words. I go to the mirror in my closet.
She is right. I am thin.
Way. Too. Thin.