ᴡᴍᴍᴀᴘ: ℌ𝔢𝔯 𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰

Septem peccata mortalia, Evermore: II

The workers had just finished, with their numbers it had taken far less than she had expected, but still, she inspected it from top to bottom. 

Dragging a finger over the cracks between the stones, and rubbing her fingers together to check for any mucus before rewarding them with a good amount of silver currency and sending them out on their separate ways. 

Her eyes looked around the floor, but it was clean- she could probably sit down and get up without there being even a speck of dust on her pants.

Pleased with the resulting outcome, she knew that trusting her Lily was always the right answer for her questions- besides, she couldn't let the maids of the palace down into this dump- hiring these outside contractors were her best bet- and the stakes were a winning lot.

 She turns the overhanging lights off, and locks the door behind her with a dull clank of the metal turning in the keyhole, going back to Claude with a jump in her step, for a quick rest before their evening symposium.

She had to be ahead of all movements against her, against daddy, against the empire she wanted to protect so desperately. 

The ending would have her standing with her hands on the scepter, a crown on her head. Not Jennette's.

Jennette, on the other hand, locked inside the Ruby Palace, had failed to get into Claude's good graces, even during their summer trip, and she finds herself at a crossroads. 

Athanasia was still nice to her, but for how long? 

Would it even matter when the sovereign, the emperor- her father?- didn't give her the time of day to get to know him? It didn't. 

Should she throw away her pride as a noble, as the eldest princess, and beg for forgiveness? Would it even work?

With Athanasia in the way, Jennette doesn't see herself as being able to get anywhere near father. 

Her nails have been bitten to the quick, blood staining the fingertips, and still they grow back a dark charcoal black. 

Jennette could hardly care about the monstrous color that her nails were, the slight sharpening of them only allowing her to scrape them against her scalp in defeat whenever she failed to copy Athanasia.

Jennette had been alone in the dark room within the hollow Ruby Palace for days upon end. Barely coming out to eat the corn gruel that had been left at her door. 

She stands in front of the mirror all day, and at night, she keeps on practicing. 

She was Athanasia. She was Athanasia de Alger Obelia. The princess who had it all in the palm of her hand.

She sat primly on the seat as she lifted an invisible cup of tea. Her pinky finger slightly bent at an angle as it raised upwards, away from the other fingers, slightly trembling before she stilled it with a harsh breath she held in. 

Her hair fell over her shoulders, reaching her lower back as she straightened herself on her seat. 

She couldn't have a slouched back as a princess- Athanasia always had a straight back- if someone held a ruler to her, it would align perfectly. 

When she laughed, she held her hand to her mouth, eyes curving into half moons- those cherished blue gem eyes of the Imperial family, hidden. 

Jennette's laugh sounded fake, and she adjusted it- adding a bit more breath to it as she tried again.

The hated child of the dark, the literal  black "sheep" of the imperial family- so much so, that they'd rather she disappear from their sight, such a tarnishing mark on their family tree. Just like...yes.. just like that Anastasius.