ᴡᴍᴍᴀᴘ: ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ

the last time

Jennette de Alger Obelia may be the loved princess of the Obelian Empire, but she is not the princess that is known as the competent one. 

Of the two, one elder and one younger, the younger controls the palaces' finances, even before she had come of age, and Jennette, knowing this, had never liked reporting how much she was spending.

 With her gloomy disposition, her quiet facade as she doesn't hesitate in refusing to egregious amounts of spending by those who asked. 

Jennette never minded about those refusals until one day, to her petulant whining, Athanasia doesn't approve her increase in the Emerald Palace's budget.

 She may have said it was because there were two of them, but anyone who was anyone in the palaces knew that Athanasia hardly laid a finger on her allowance.

She had no use for fancy dresses when she only ever rotated between the same dozen or so with her being kept busy with all the official documents and duties she had to do. 

Athanasia with her tired eyes and throbbing headache fails to notice how Jennette's cheerful smile turns ugly for a second before Athanasia looks up again.

 Seeing Jennette's smile, she smiles back, as much as she didn't want to, and sends her away after promising to meet her for tea later. Athanasia hunches over the papers again and doesn't see Jennette's dark glare as the doors close behind her.

Athanasia sips the tea as she listens to the faint sounds of the leaves rustling against each other, the birds chirping amongst each other, and Jennette's soft words as she tells Athanasia about how her day has gone. 

Athanasia nods along, making sure to think of questions along the narration so Jennette doesn't feel she isn't listening to her, but finds it's gone oddly silent. 

She looks up, wondering if Jennette had found a flavor she disliked amongst the desserts, and sees Jennette shaking. 

Jennette's teacup falls from her hand, breaking on the ground, her hands scratching at her throat as her eyes widen in terror, as she writhes on the grass and Athanasia is screaming for someone- anyone, to help her.

Help comes, but when it does, Athanasia is surrounded by guards, and suddenly, the unloved but useful princess has been tossed into the dungeons and awaiting trial. 

A trial that never comes, and when news reaches her cell, she's incredulous at the way the blame was suddenly shifted to her. "There must be some mistake- ask Jennette-" 

No one tells her anything, but from the way they glared at her until she quieted down- it made her realize it had all been for naught. 

Her efforts in getting along with Jennette when she came to the palace. Her efforts in trying to gain love from her father by being as intelligent as possible. 

Her efforts in trying to become someone worth loving, worth respecting. Her efforts that had stacked up countless achievements over the years had all fallen down like an old wall broken by offensive mages, and the bricks fell down with ease.

They had always meant to fall down. 

She was always going to be unloved. 

She was always meant to be the sacrifice of the Empire.

Her head in her hands, her eyes staring down at the floor, her headache coming back as she tried to hold back her tears just as she had when she was younger, waking up from a nightmare. 

But found, this time around, she didn't have any tears to hold back in the first place. Her emotions had been dulled over the years, with how much she always managed to press them down into herself before it was too late, and now, when she really needed a release, they failed to come up to the surface.