Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Maury, let me in!"
Mauritia was sprawn across her canopied queen-sized bed, dirty-blonde hair clinging to her pillow, magnificent dress crumpled carelessly between her petite body and the baby blue sheets. Upon hearing the insistant voice, she proceeded to roll onto her stomach, face firmly planted into her pillow.
"What do you want, Eugenie?" she called out, voice muffled by the soft, cotton-stuffed pillow.
"I want to talk to you. Maury, let me in, please. I'm not angry at you, I just want to talk." The young woman outside the door paused for a brief moment. "Please?"
Sighing in resignation, Mauritia pushed herself up from her bed, wanting nothing more than to stay in the comfort of her bed, dreading what her sisteer would say to her once she entered. Mond, the talk she would soon be having with Father caused far more anxiety, but all the same... She wasn't sure she know Eugenie anymore. She wasn't sure that Eugenie knew her anymore.
They had grown so far apart in the past months. Before Fahd came, Eugenie had often come to rescue Mauritia from her governess, taking her horseback riding and picnking as she had needed it. For those short months between Mother's death and the arrival of Eugenie's fiance, Mauritia's older sister had helped her cope. In a way, she became a replacement mother. She had helped Mauritia begin to heal.
But that was all over far too soon. Father had made the decision to step down as king, and offered his oldest daughter to the youngest prince of their sister kingdom, as it was his belief that a king and a queen were needed in order to rule effectively. Eugenie, a fiercely proud and independent individual, did not take it well, especially when she learned she be marrying the skilless heartthrob that she made Fahd out to be. She avoided him, she scalded him, and Mauritia knew very well that it hurt the young man. He had even come to her for advice on gaining her sister's love, or at the very least friendship. Mauritia felt bad for the young prince; as a fellow youngest child, she knew how much it hurt to be compared to older siblings. And Fahd's three brothers, and even sister-in-law, were magnificent to say the least. Basil the Mighty. Hakin the Wise. Lionel the Courageous. Constance the Righteous. And Fahd was just Fahd, just as Mauritia was just Mauritia, living in the shadow of Eugenie the Spectacular.
Opening the white-painted door, Mauritia looked up at her black-haired sister with bloodshot eyes. "What do you want?" she managed.
Eugenie gave her a wry look, blue eyes staring down at her from behind unnaturally long eyelashes. "I told you," she answered calmly, "I want to speak with you."
Then, without waiting for an invitation, Mauritia's well-mannered and diplomatic sister pushed past her and into the sleeping chambers, making herself comfortable on the edge of Mauritia's unkempt bed. She looked over at her stunned younger sister with raised eyebrows. "Well? What are you waiting for? Take a seat."
Grudgingly, Mauritia pushed her bedroom door closed behind her, securing the lock before going over to sit on the windowsill, bare toes at home against the cold window. She knew this unproffessional mannerism bothered Eugenie, but either her sister failed to notice, or she did not feel that it was worth picking a fight over.
Eugenie herself sat with pristine posture, her back straight and her head held high. She seemed at home in her velvetty purple and gold dress, her golcen circlet a stark contrast against her dark waves. On the other hand, Mauritia knew her own dark blue dress to be hopelessly wrinkled, her corset loosened in a manner that it did no good. Her feet were bare and she lay slouched, hair a whole other level of disaster. And her silver circlet had been abandoned, locked in a chest in her dressing room where she didn't have to look at it.
"Maury," Eugenie began gently, pleading with her eyes already. "Is it true what Madam Natalynda tells me? Have you been leaving the castle to speak with a peasant?" She rreached a hand out toward her sister, but Maury flinched away, causing Eugenie to hug heer white-gloved hand back to her chest, looking hurt.
"You know I'm here for you, Maury. You can speak to me whenever--"
"No you aren't!" The protest burst forth unbidden, and Eugenie's pinched face paled considerably as tears began flowing down Mauritia's pained visage. She looked up at her sister, her own blue eyes glazed over in earnest. "You haven't been there for my since the day Fahd got here. Both you and Daddy have been too wrapped up to even acknowledge my prescense. Daddy's been too busy with your wedding plans, and you've been too busy trying to force Fahd call off the marriage." She dres her knees into her chest, wrapping her thin arms around them.
"Anjay was the only one who actually took time to listen to my troubles without feeling the need to push his own upon me. He cared when no one else did. He took me in when my family left me all alone. You always try to force your problems with fahd on me, and I just want my big sister back." She scowled. "I'm fed up with royals. I wish I were born as a peasant girl instead. Maybe then someone would truly love me."
Eugenie just stared at her, and Mauritia found herself having to turn away from her stunned sister. It hurt her to talk about it all, even Anjay. She had a reason for talking about him in past tense; she learned ever so recently that he was by no means who she thought he was. He wasn't just a peasant, he was a rebel; he wasn't just a rebel, he was a rebel leader; he wasn't just a rebel leader, he was the leader of the Leopold. Mind, he did not know her true identity when he brought her to the camp, but it remained far too much for Mauritia to bear. She wasn't sure if she ever wanted to see him again.
Finally, Eugenie took the initiative to speak. "Look, Maury, I'm sorry, but I don't think you understand the weight of all this. You're only fifteen, and --"
"There it is," Mauritia spat bitterly. "'Only.' The infamous word." She glared at her sister. "When you were fifteen, no one used that word with you because you're the oldest. No one said you were too young because you were the oldest. No matter how old I get, I'll always be too young to understand."
Impatience crossed Eugenie's visage. "But that's just it. You don't understand. You've never had to put up with something like this! You've never had to--" She froze as her sister looked up at her, smiling wryly.
"That's just it," Mauritia croaked, laughing sourly. "I do understand. Maybe not from your perspective, but from Fahd's." She licked her lips. "You compare him to his brothers, refusing to see the traits that are rightfully his. You spurn him because he honesty loves you. You put him down for the sake of your own pride. You think he's inferior." Mauritia looked down at the floor, voice becoming a mere whisper. "You look at him the way people look at me when you're around."
"So you're saying that this is all my fault? Mauritia, that's just--"
"Not right?" Mauritia laughed. "Discriminatory, maybe? I sought out friendship outside the castle because I couldn't handle it here anymore. Anjay opened his arms to me and accepted me for me, not in comparison to you. Since he only knows me as Liliane, the orphaned kitchen's girl, he sees my personality, he sees me soul. He loves me despite all the flaws that everyone else feels the need to point out."
Eugenie stayed silent for a moment. Finally, she offered an inquiry. "How old is this peasant boy?"
Mauritia chewed on the inside of her lip, not wanting to answering.
"Mauritia."
"Twenty-one," Mauritia squeaked.
Eugenie threw her hands up in the air, looking relieved. "Well there you have it! He's just using you, Maury. He wants you around for one thing and one thing only, and that's--"
"He does not!" Mauritia protested, eyes flashing. "Do you want to know how I know that, hm? Because I made advances on him and he told me that it wasn't right, that he could get in trouble for it. He loved me, but not like that, Gene. He was willing to--"
Eugenie stood up, clearly angry. "You know what, fine. You win. But if I ever hear of you going to see him again, I will speak with Father. I can't have my baby sister running amuck and risking her safety." Her eyes softened slightly as she went to close the door behind her. "I'm sorry, Maury, but I can't lose you." And then she was gone.
Shocked and in pain, Mauritia locked the door after her sister before disappearing into her dressing room, removing a dusty cherry-wood box from a shelf. Removing the chain from around her neck, she pushed the key into the lock, opening the id with shaking hands as she removed her circlet and placed it upon her head.
She'd go to Anjay one last time and tell him the truth. She knew that it meant putting a weapon in his hands, and that she'd probably end up brutally murdered by the clan, but she didn't care anymore.
She just didn't care.