This morning was the first majorly different morning since Theo's birthing. And I don't mean a little different. I mean the whole-estate-is-running-like-the-sky-is-falling kind of different.
A battlefield of Dresses everywhere, ribbons dangling off the mirror, and the writing desk had somehow been converted into a makeup station. Maids darted around like frightened chicks, tripping over shoes–and dress-accessories, it used to be my bedroom just hours ago.
while I stood, head pressed on wall, as two of them attempted murder on my mid-section disguised as tightening my corset.
"Just a little more, dears," Mother said behind me, serenely.—Serenely!. Like she wasn't orchestrating a public execution .
"Mother," I wheezed, "anymore and you might just have my spine as a decorative ornament"
"Iris, beauty demands sacrifice sometimes." She said serious.
" Sacrifice?!" I replied alarmed.
{You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation. Let's rewind abit.}
A few hours prior—
Emily had stormed into my room as if she was fleeing a fire. "Milady! You must wake up this instant!"
I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. "Get out."
"I really can't," she sang back, far too chipped for someone about to die by possible pillow-related homicide. "The Duchess will be here any moment!"
That made me peek out. "Mother's coming? Why?"
"To prepare you!"
"For what?" curious.
"To meet the Prince!" she squealed.
That got shot me upright quicker than lightning. "What?!"
She clasped her hands–grinning like some show-host about to announce the highlight of the day "isn't it exciting?!"
"That's not how I would describe it"
And with that, rhythmic feet could be heard approaching my room, in swept Mother. Followed by dozens of maid carrying dresses, shiny boxes, perfume, and I was too tired to care of what else.
{It's too early for this}
Mother stood in the middle of the room, "Iris, why aren't you washed yet?" She actually looked stunned, like I'd ever gotten up that early.
"Because," I sat there, eyes half-open, hair tangled, and wrapped in blanket. "I'm just waking up, Mother. A usual activity for dawn, I hear."
The maids stiffen, probably trying to bottle their giggles, some did slip out regardless.
" Emily, prepare her bath." Mother's eyes narrowed down on me, the look that says she's about to force her norms on me " We'll see how much you have to say once in lace."
And that, friends, is how I ended up face mashed against wall and my ribs rearranged by lace–gasping for dear life.
.><><><.
When I was finally dressed, powdered, and shoved into a gown that could've passed for a tent, choked by the duchess-neckline, tight at the waist, hardly breathable. Sitting across him—the uninvited guest who stole my sleep.
He was calm. Like predator closing in on prey. My throat tightened—dry.
{Why'd the imperial family just show up here, Eloria is hours from the capital. I really hope it's just on official house visit, the Dowager is friends with mother.}
"You don't have to feel intimidated in my presence," he said, tone smooth. "We're likely the same age. And besides, this isn't our first meeting."
I swallowed hard..."My apologies for not recognizing you the other day." I managed.
"It's quite alright," he said, crossing one leg over the other. "You aren't accustomed to society yet."
{Aren't you going to apologize too, you decived me as well, technically speaking. I didn't evenlie.}
He held a biscuit in hand–sipping tea. Luxuries I couldn't afford at the moment, because of a–certain–duchess–neckline.
His eyes were an unsettling shade of ice-blue, and his raven hair looked like it knew it was perfect, relaxed on his lashes.
{He's just twelve, and I'm thirty-six!.}
When he looked up suddenly, our eyes met. I panicked and immediately looked away.
{Smooth, Iris. Realsmooth.} I felt heat crawling up my neck. My tummy growled–loud. {Ah!, I haven't eaten anything all morning} my face burned—and I felt the shimmer in my eyes. A burning sensation.
"Oh my goodness!," I exclaimed in deniel "what's a beautiful weather we're having.." laughing nervously-waving a hand like a fan.
He smirked."Biscuit?"
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly." I tried to keep composure, but I doubt I was doing any good
{What the fuck was that?!!, how's the weather?!, really!. Straight up lying would have beenbetter.}
"Is it because of the dress?, you'd go that far to entertain a prince?" He's tone held faint -distaste-
Before I could find my words, Father and the Dowager Princess walked in. Father looked unfocused, not obvious. But I'd spent thirteen years of my life staring at his immaculate features, it'd be stranger if I didn't notice.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. {What took you solong.}
"Well," the Princess said, "we still have some matters to discuss. Iris, would you mind taking Raymond out to play… or something?"
{Ah, of course. As if anything involving the Royal family could end in myfavor.}
.><><><.
After I chugged on some tea, to subdue my raging stomach. I took him on a tour of the manor.
We started with the east wing gallery—portraits of ancestors who looked like they wanted to duel anyone making eye contact. Then the music room, which smelled faintly of polish and old strings. The sunroom came next, light filtering through colored glass onto the marble floors. Then the children's playroom, which he observed like it was a foreign museum exhibit.
He barely spoke the entire time, just nodded like he was memorizing the floor plan for a later thief-stunt.
Finally, I led him into my personal study.
"My study," I announced proudly, pushing the doors open.
"I haven't had time to redecorate yet, but it's mine."
"Why redecorate?" he asked, walking in with the confidence of someone who owned the place. "Is there something wrong with it?"
"Not wrong," I said. "It just doesn't exactly say Iris yet."
He smiled faintly. "I wonder what it'll look like when you're done."
"Same," I said, trying not to sound nervous.
"Do you already have a theme in mind?, you do always have rather... Vibrant taste." he said, looking down at my gown.
I froze. "This wasn't a choice!, and neither was the deranged peacock suit I wore for the memorial!, My mother and Emily conspired against me—I would never willingly dress like some decorative house item!"
He laughed, genuinely amused. "You're nothing like the rumors say."
I tilted my head. "Oh? And do tell... what do these rumors say?, your highness "
"That you're shy and frail—Others, that you're incredibly incompetent yet rude."
"Incredibly incompetent?" I repeated, "They don't even know me."
He nodded. "That's not all I heard, Some even question your parentage" he was closing in on me.."your eyes..." He paused. "They stand out."
"I see," I said coolly. "How flattering."
"No one's ever seen you perform magic" he continued. "That's what's got them talking, Have you ever?"
Silence. {I'm not sure I mind them talking, it's their breathnotmine}
"I'll take that as a no," he said lightly. "I'm not judging. It's your choice."
"Magic… terrifies me" I lied. voice soft.
He looked intrigued. "What do you mean—"
-Knock knock-
"Milady, Your Highness, the Dowager Princess requests you both," a maid called.
"We'll continue later, I hope." he said, leaning back.
Of course. {Infive years, sure.}
.><><><.
That night, I lay in bed with Theo curled against me.
"I lied to him though" I said suddenly.
Theo looked up, eyes curious. "Why?, you never lie"
"Well sometimes, lying is essential. Like in that situation, I did it so he'd never ask again."
"You hate the Prince?"
"No. I just don't want to be anything of his. We'll be acquainted, at most."
"So… you don't fancy him either?"
"Absolutely not!" I exclaimed. "Where did you get that idea?"
"Gia told me only people who are betrothed spend that much time together. And Mia said… you smiled at him." his eyes said it all, he was worried.
I blinked. "I smile at everyone, Theo. It's called manners."
"But she said—"
"Enough," I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "And stop letting those two turn your brain to muss."
He smiled, and I felt that familiar warmth in my chest.
"Theo," I whispered, brushing his hair back, "Don't listen to what anyone says, I'm not leaving you. Ever."
{Anddefinitely not for a death flag}
He hugged me tighter, face buried in my chest. I smiled. For all his clinginess, I didn't mind. Not when it's him.
"Goodnight, Onita." he cooed.
"Goodnight, Theo."
.><><><.
Morning came.
I planned to sleep through Emily's usual shrieking, but instead I heard Theo's voice—panicked, outside my door.
"I don't know what happened." He was crying!. I shot out up on my bed, as my door burst open. "Iris!" Mother rushed in, morning hair, silk nightgown loosely nutted. Her expression both terrified and calculating. "Bring the towels!" she ordered.
Theo stood by the doorway, pale as chalk.
I blinked, still half-asleep, realizing with dawning horror that my bed was wet.
"Mother—wait—don't come any closer!" I squeaked, fumbling for the sheet.
Her eyes scanned the bed—and then I felt it. The ache. and familiar release.
Oh.
Her shoulders relaxed instantly. "It's alright, darling," she said softly. "You're fine."
I looked down. I was indeed surprised, but not enough to be embarrassed. Just enough to laugh at my cursed fate.
Blood.
Mother smiled gently. "You're fine, Iris. Just… growing up."
I stared, speechless and blank,
Of all the mornings for this to happen, Theo had to be the first to see.