To My Duke, Dearest| j. kirschtein

xi. Armistice, Archives and Armin

Thumb stroking over the brass, you lay with your back against your bedsheets as you held the small key to the morning light. There could be hundreds of rooms in this palace, but why would the prince be carrying this specific one? Due to the fact it was brass and not gold, you suspected that it was not his bedroom key. The lock in his bed chambers had been gold, so it only made sense to infer that they key would also be made of the same material as the lock. So if this key was not belonging to his bedroom, then where did it lead?

The breakfast chime was yet to go off and Louise had dressed you a little earlier this morning, so she could head to the apothecary. You noticed the way her eyes always twitched to jewellery box on your desk, whenever she came into your room, like she was a guilty sinner entering the church for a sermon. You wondered whether she craved for more, you wondered if she had spent all the money on ailments or if she had taken your advice and kept a few coins to herself, so she could spend on more fabrics.

Your dress was a shade of green today, and the corset was a woodsy brown that reminded you of the outdoor oak. Flicking your tongue over your lip, you refrained from frowning in case you developed forehead creases prematurely. This was rather the conundrum you could not quite wrap your head around. There was no way you could try every single lock in the dead of night until one gave way, like some kind of thief of secrets. And if you could not do that, then what were you to do?

It had been the entirety of two days since you and Prince Jean strolled through those gardens like fairy tale lovers. The cycle of courting had continued, but you had not met him face to face since then. You were rather sure that it was Lady Historia who was spending time with him today, but you believed that they were not circulating the gardens, the brewing clouds outdoors said that as much. But for some strange reason, you did not want to see where they were, you did not even want to know the things they were discussing, what those pretty lips told her. Did he laugh at her anecdotes or just yours?

Pushing yourself upright, you placed the key into the front of your dress, taking another glance at today's reflection in the looking glass before you left the room, deciding you wanted to be early to dinner. When it came to socialising, you had been rather reserved, choosing to return to your chambers instead of staying in the women's lounge, but you internally knew that your hermit behaviour needed to change if you were to continue to play this role. Royalty were natural socialites it seemed.

Porco was awaiting you at the end of the staircase. You had asked for him to lurk closer to your room since you were still hiding away from Eren and his prying nose like a coward, and you refused to take any chances. It was a big risk and terrible mistake befriending him. In truth, you had not seen him around palace grounds since that night, and you were not certain why that made you so uncomfortable. Your bodyguard gave you a greeting nod.

"Early for once, are we?" He teased in turn for a good morning.

Sometimes you wished that when the pair of you were alone he carried the same time in which he regarded others with. It irritated you to know that no matter how many gowns you donned, this boy would still boy would still view you as inferior. Maybe it was simply a Galliard characteristic, or maybe it was something to do with you. Did he not view you as regal enough to deserve any respect?

"Silence, Galliard. Who allowed you to speak?" You snapped, testing your authority.

He arched brow at your ineffective tone and reacted with nothing but a small chuckle, as if you were a child playing pretend. Internally, you knew it did feel like that often.

The pair of went downstairs into the breakfast hall. The grey and flustered clouds outside did not allow much light to filter through the floor to ceiling windows of the hall, and the room had a dismal atmosphere suffocating it.