The puppets were playing out the story, and Artesia's breath was short in her chest. She felt like she needed to sit down. It was a lovely story, about the first Saint falling in love with a man, and ultimately losing him due to her own folly. The church wouldn't let them be together, insisting that the Saint must remain pure and virginal, and the man was ultimately killed by assassins. The saint ultimately disappeared, never to be seen again, and Artesia...
Didn't feel great.
She did not feel great.
The story was coming to an end. The moral of the story was the church learned their folly, and allowed Saints to marry after that, but she felt like she needed to cry. She honestly felt like she needed to cry.
Was she fucking up, hanging out with Edwin and Jacques like this? Was she ruining her chances at finding happiness? She didn't know. She did not know, and she felt like she was going to faint. Her breath was becoming narrow in her chest. She knew story beats. She knew how this looked. The villainess, hanging out with the ML and second ML, without a single FL to be seen. Was this some kind of divine warning? Was she fucking up by doing this?
Her breath was tight, and she found herself blinking back tears. She was doomed by the narrative, she realized. She was truly doomed by the narrative. There was no helping it. She was screwed. She was going to die, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, and shouldn't she just enjoy her time while she was set up for failure? She was going to die no matter what she did, so shouldn't she just... live?
Her hand found its way to Mally's, and he looked down in mild surprise at the way she was gripping it for dear life.
"Are you alright?" he murmured, and she swallowed and gave him a tight smile.
"Fine," she said, her voice breaking slightly.
"Do you want to go get some air?" he asked softly, and she nodded multiple times. "Should we get some mulled wine?"
There was a stand just down the way, and she wasn't technically supposed to drink it as the Saint, but she didn't really care. She wasn't in real public right now.
"Okay," she said as she desperately fought back tears, and he drew her off towards the mulled wine stand. Edwin and Jacques watched them go, and Mally walked up to the stand and ordered two mugs of mulled wine for a couple coppers. The attendant dished them out, and Mally handed her a cup. She took a sip of it, and oh, it was good. Almost desperately, she started swallowing it all down, and Mally took a more sedate sip as they stared at her.
"Feeling okay?" Mally asked, and she gave them a wavering smile.
"Doomed by the narrative," she replied, and Mally tilted their head. "I just---I'm doing everything wrong."
"Ah," Mally said, and glanced down at the mulled wine in her grasp. It was sweet and spicy, being of-spices, not pain, and she looked down at it. She could taste citrus and cloves. She hadn't had a drink in a while. "I think you should just do whatever you want."
"What?" she asked faintly, and Mally tilted their head.
"Who cares if you're doomed by the narrative?" they asked. "Just do whatever you want anyway."
"I... I can't do that," she stammered, and Mally looked at her directly with honey brown eyes.
"Why not?" they asked.
"Because I---" Was doomed to death.
Wait.
Why shouldn't she just enjoy her time while she was here? If she was going to die, shouldn't she have fun before then? She had four years before the events of the novel started, anyway, so shouldn't she just enjoy those four years? But... There were all sorts of pressures associated with being the Saint. She had so many tea party invitations. She didn't want to spend her time as a socialite. She wanted to...
Do something fun.
She wanted to do something fun.
"Thank you, Mally," she said, and gave them a wane smile. Mally inclined their head, and she took in his curly hair and soft honey brown eyes. He really was beautiful. She wanted to pinch his cheeks.
"Just... take it one day at a time, okay?" Mally asked gently, and she nodded and looked down at her pale purple dress. It was pretty, embroidered with tiny white flowers, and she kind of hated it. They were going with a theme of small flowers for her, and she was annoyed about it.
"Thank you, Mally," she murmured and took another sip of her mulled wine. It was weird that she was drinking at fifteen, but she assumed they weren't as stuffy about that sort of thing here than they were back home.
Home...
She had been here for a year now, and she didn't want to give up on going home. But, it was looking further and further away. She didn't think she would get to go home. This was her new home now, but she missed it. Oh, she missed it desperately. She would have to make a life here, and she didn't want to make a life here. She did not want to make a life here. She was sick of sacrificing. She was sick of being the Saint. It was a life of constant sacrifice, when you were actually living it properly. She didn't want to live it.
She did not want to live it.
She wanted something more than this. She wanted to actually be fulfilled. This wasn't fulfilling. This was hell.
She kind of wanted to go home, back to the temple, and go to bed. The four of them had barely been hanging out an hour, but she wanted to go home. She felt miserable and sad, and she tried to think of an excuse, but she was coming up blank.
"Should we go back to the others?" Mally asked as they set their mug down on the stand, and oh, they finished their drink. Artesia drained the rest of her wine and set their mug down, and then she nodded and reached out for their hand, wrapping hers around theirs and pulling them off.
"You alright?" Edwin asked as they reached them, and Artesia nodded.
"The puppet show just made me sad and I had to step away for a moment," she replied. The puppet show was coming to an end now, and she looked at the intricately carved puppets with sad eyes. It wasn't the same as back home. It wasn't the same, but it was close enough.
"Saints can marry now, so I wouldn't be too upset about it," Jacques said, and she pursed her lips.
It was probably a warning from the Goddess. Get your head on straight, or I'll make you get your head on straight. She was a superstitious person, and she had real proof that the Goddess was real. Magic didn't make sense otherwise, much less holy magic. There was a reason holy magic practitioners couldn't learn any other magic. The Goddess was clear.
"Should we cheer up the lady?" Jacques asked, and Artesia gave him a small smile.
"Actually, I think I'd like to go home now," she said, and Jacques visibly wilted. "Sorry. I just..."
"Having divine revelations?" Edwin asked, and Artesia was quiet.
"I need to pray," she said firmly, and Edwin slowly nodded.
"Alright," he said. "We can escort you back to the temple."
"Let's get some more food on the way there," Mally said. "Maybe something sweet, to wash down the bitterness."
"Alright," Artesia agreed, and the four of them set out. The temple wasn't too awfully far from here, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she walked. She felt... tired. Tired of trying to play this role, tired of her constant attempts to be a good person, and tired of the fact that she was the Saint. The Saint was a big role, and she never wanted to be this important. It was a lot of pressure on one person, and literally all she had to do was clear out the contamination. What was the big deal? She had a job. Why was everyone acting like she was descended from the gods itself?
Greta's confession was weighing on her. She felt like she was going to be a problem in the future, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She just... Why did Greta act like that? She didn't know. She didn't know. It was overwhelming, and everyone was looking to her to be a spiritual leader, but she didn't want to be a spiritual leader. She just wanted to be an extra. An extra sounded safe. An extra sounded normal.
"Your mind is far away," Edwin said, and she glanced at him.
"Just thinking about my role," she said quietly. "I don't..."
Want to be the Saint, she realized. Not just because of the whole villainess thing. She didn't want to fulfill this role, this person that was a paragon of holiness and kindness and gentleness. She had to be perfect, and she didn't want to be perfect. She just wanted to be a normal person.
"That's the reality of our position, though," Edwin said. "It doesn't matter what we want."
It doesn't matter what we want rung around her head, and she swallowed and looked down at her shoes. She thought about Daisy, unbidden, and her family struggling under the drought and contamination wracking their land. In the original novel, Artesia refused to clear out the contamination. That was... that was bad. Artesia wasn't going to be doing that. The Aldova County would be the first thing on her list, as soon as the social season was over.
As soon as social season was over... Hm.
She glanced at Mally. Maybe she should hire them to take care of her while she was traveling. Something about Mally was comforting, familiar, and she was selfish. She was very selfish.
Mally would probably refuse, unless she paid a hefty sum. Six months away from the capital would be a lot, but she wanted them with her. She was lonely, and Mally was like a fresh breath of fresh air. Yes, they were over concerned with station, but...
Ah, it was fine. It was fine.
She took a deep breath in and walked ahead of the rest of them, her brain spinning with options. She wanted to leave early, honestly. She hated social season already, and it had barely started. She wasn't looking forward to awkward teatimes and having to use every ounce of etiquette training she had to keep up. Plus, the idly conversations about modern politics... Horrible. She didn't care about the politics. She knew she should, because she would be used to throw out in front of any scandals, but she didn't care about them.
She wanted more than this, she realized.
She wanted more than this.
And she didn't know how to get it.