"So, Your Holiness," the prince said, halfway through the second cup of tea, and Mally was at this point shooting imploring looks at the knight to just decapitate them and put them out of their misery. He was impervious to their stares. "What do you think about going to the festival with me?"
Mally froze up, because he was asking her on a date, what the fuck, and opened their mouth and shut it. Artesia looked like a deer in headlights. She was completely frozen up, clutching her teacup, and yeah, Mally could imagine how that would be a problem.
"Oh, uhm," she said as she mentally calculated the odds of losing her head if she went with the second male lead to the festival. "I'm afraid I already have a prior engagement."
"Oh? With who?" the prince asked, and she opened her mouth and shut it, and oh, gods, no---
"Mally!" she said, and Mally stared at her. "I'm going with Mally."
"Is that so," the prince said coolly with a glance to Mally, and Mally colored. What did they do in this situation? Did they contradict her, call her out on her lie? They were supposed to go to the bookseller.
"Uhm..." Mally said, just to buy time as their brain fished for something. "I, uhm, well, you see, I don't want to get between you and the prince---"
"Why not we all three go together?" the prince asked casually, and Mally's brain froze up. What? What? Going with the original second ML and the titular main character? Seriously? No. No. This could not be happening right now. They would have to swing by the bookseller before this and let him know they couldn't come.
"I'm a commoner. That isn't appropriate," Mally said immediately, because why did none of these brats get that?
"We're all wearing masks," the prince said teasingly. "Who would be able to tell?"
"You two have very recognizable hair," Mally pointed out, because they both had blonde hair, like spun gold, and Mally was just about ready to beg for mercy.
"There's potions to fix that," the prince said dismissively. "I'll even dress down for it. It's the one night a year we can mingle with commoners without it being frowned upon. Don't be a spoilsport, Mally."
A spoilsport? They were trying to save their head. If it came out what they did... There were no laws against it, but there would be immediately. In fact, it would be virtually impossible to prove that they didn't just kill Georgina. They would be tried and executed for murder. And this body couldn't even die. If they lost their head, they would just grow a new one without the memories. Amnesia in a prison cell wasn't ideal. It wasn't ideal at all.
They would be burned at the stake, they realized. That was the only one to kill them. What a horrible way to go.
They hated this. They actually hated this.
"Well, it's settled, then," the prince said with a clap of his hands. "The three of us will go to the festival."
Mally was going to put their head through the wall.
"If that's what you wish, Your Highness," they said through their teeth. This was horrendous. They were going to lose their mind. They were actually going to lose their mind.
"Wonderful!" Artesia said and clapped, but her face was pale. Once again, Mally was the buffer between her and a main character. Gods. Should they just ditch them? No, terrible idea. The prince could have them beheaded for that. It was only one night, right? Yeah, it was only one night. They could survive one night, and then they could avoid them all for the rest of their life.
Yeah.
It was fine.
It was totally fine.
They were actually going to cry.
"Well, I have to go cancel some things now, so would you two mind if I took my leave?" they asked directly, and the prince looked at them with his green eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Of course. We wouldn't want to keep you, Mally," he said, and great, now Mally had to dip into their rapidly dwindling funds to get a nicer outfit for tonight and a mask. "I'll meet you at the guild hall at seven."
"I'll see you two then," they said and came to their feet before they bowed. "Thank you for the tea."
"Get back home safe," the prince said, and they nodded and made their way to the door. The knight followed them out, and they felt the maid's eyes boring into them as they left. Gods. This was a fucking nightmare. They were going to die before they reached eighteen. No, they were going to die before they reached sixteen. This was the worst case scenario. Artesia needed to stop using them as a meatshield. They weren't even made of meat. Gods. Fuck.
Did that girl not even consider that they may have more to hide than her??
It was fine. They just had to get through this event and come out on the other side. It was fine. There was no way events would keep finding them. They were trying to have their shounen, dammit. Why did all of this shoujo shit keep inserting itself into their story? Was this the curse of a nonbinary protagonist? It was like the plot kept trying to assign them 'girl' against their will, and they were not having it.
Artesia needed to get over her paranoia about death flags already. Georgina was dead. There was nothing to panic about. She had smooth sailing from here on out.
Annoyance rose and fell in a wave, and they were led down the stairs and out into the courtyard and waiting carriage.
"We will take you back to the guild hall," the knight said, and they climbed on board and flung themself into their seat.
"Wonderful," they gritted out, and the knight gave them a hard look.
"Mention this to no one," he said, and they nodded tightly.
"I'm not stupid, don't worry," they said, and he hummed and closed the door. They watched as he swung onto the horse, and they wondered how many knights and paladins were going to be disguised in the crowd. Probably a lot. They were going to be everywhere, and now he would have to awkwardly third wheel as Artesia's lack of social graces charmed the first prince.
Dammit. Why did a second ML rear his head all of a sudden? The first prince hadn't been the second ML in A Saint's Life. He was just an extra. What was going on?
Objectively, Mally was aware that they were going to throw the plot out of whack by killing Georgina. However, they hadn't anticipated that it would be this out of control. It was like the plot was trying to repair itself and restore them to the position of villainess. Well, they were not having it. No, thank you. The plot could try to repair itself all it wanted, but Mally was not going to play the game.
Mally was not going to play the game.
....
"Hello?" Mally called as they stepped into the bookstore, and the old bookseller poked his head out from behind the stacks.
"Ah! Mally! It's noon, what are you doing here so early?" he asked, and Mally grimaced.
"I'm here to tell you I've been press ganged into an outing by some other people I can't refuse," they said, and the bookseller visibly wilted. "I'm sorry."
"Ah... That's alright," he said, and Mally smiled at him.
"I need to pick up some clothes now, but can we reschedule?" they asked, and he nodded several times.
"Sure, sure. Next week? Fiveday?"
"Fiveday sounds grand. Same time?" Mally asked, and he beamed at them.
"Sounds perfect," he said, and Mally smiled.
"Thank you... I realize you've never introduced yourself," they said, and he blinked.
"Oh, goodness, my old age has really taken me away, hasn't it?" he asked. "I'm Harkin Richards."
"Mr. Richards, then," they said, and he laughed.
"No, please call me Harkin," he said, and they blinked. "Mr. Richards makes me feel old. I'm still a sprightly thing!"
"Harkin, then," they corrected themself, and he slyly got a book out.
"I wonder if I could tempt you with a new book I just got in. The fables and urban folklore of the west," he said, and they paused. They needed new clothes, but...
"Alright, how much?"
"Two silver," he said, and they counted out the coins and handed them to him. He handed the book to them, and they held it against their chest.
"Thank you, Harkin," they said, and turned for the door. "I'll talk to you later!"
"I'll see you!" he called, and they made their way out the door. Just across the street was a tailor shop that specialized in stitchcraft, or the magic of stitch work and could get them clothes relatively quickly. It may take a few hours, but it would be fast, and worth the higher price point. They pushed their way into the tailor shop, thanking all that was holy that they didn't have to go to boutiques anymore, and the girl behind the counter looked up.
"Hi!" he said as he approached her. "Do you have time for a rush order?"
"Of course!" the girl said, and looked them up and down. "What do you need?"
"Something a little more respectable for the festival," they replied, and tilted their head. "Can you make a mask that matches?"
"Unfortunately, no, but I'm sure you can find something!" she said, and hummed. "Greens and browns and yellows?"
"That sounds good to me," he said, and she nodded.
"Just follow me, then," she said, and led him into the back room. "Let's get you your measurements."
He set the book down on an end table, and she got a measuring tape out and started measuring him with careful, respectful hands. He let her poke and prod him, and she finished measuring him out. All of the measurements were carefully written in her notebook. He looked around the room, taking in all of the colors of the fabrics, and she straightened up.
"For a rush order like this, the whole outfit should be about three gold. Is that alright with you?" she asked, and he nodded. "Half up front, half due at completion of the order."
"So, a gold and five silvers?" he asked, and she nodded. "Okay. One moment."
He carefully counted them out of his coin purse and handed them to her, and she took them and tucked them into her apron.
"Give me three hours," she said. "I'll make sure you look good."
"Thank you," he said, even though he'd prefer to look plain. "Just something that befits a wealthy commoner, please."
"Understood," she said, and he turned for the door as he picked up his book.
"I'll be back in four hours to pick it up!" he called and she waved to him. He stepped out onto the street and stretched. The street was bustling, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on his coin purse. A carriage was rolling through, and he---
Froze.
The crest on it was that of the DeVille family, and people were clearing out to make way for it. It rolled right on past, and when he looked up, he saw Marcus in it. His brother was staring out the window, dull purple eyes looking over the people in the streets. His face was lifeless, lacking all emotion and he looked---
Sad.
He looked sad, Mally realized like a lightning strike, and their eyes met. The young man stared at him in silence, and Mally turned aside, walking down the sidewalk as panic clawed up in his throat. Of course, they knew there was no way his brother could recognize him. There was no way in hell he could recognize him.
The DeVille family representative had finally arrived in town for social season, and Mally realized he missed the funeral.
He missed his own funeral.
It was a weird thing to get hung up on, but he did. How strange. How very strange.
Mally would have to avoid him.
He would only be in town for a few months, and avoiding him would be easy enough, but...
Why did Mally have a bad feeling about this?