The only way you can describe how Aunt Anasthasia looks right now is that it is very not pretty. Of course, you wouldn't say that right to her face – she would definitely misunderstand it, thinking that you might be referencing her appearance. Your aunt is actually very beautiful for someone at her age. However throughout your life, even from when your parents were still alive, fury has always been etched onto her features. Especially whenever you're around. From the way she has been treating you, especially now that you know better, it is more than evident that she detests your existence. But you can never bring yourself to hate her — the fact that she technically saved your life — and so, you end up chalking her anger off as her merely being strict towards you.
But this time is different. Whatever she is feeling right now, it is beyond what you have experienced so far that you are even at a loss for words to explain it. You have a good idea why though.
You shakily lower your gaze, so scared of meeting hers at the moment. Christensen catching on to the possible misunderstanding immediately goes to your defence. His arms going around you as if he was expecting you to be subjected to some sort of violent act from the mistress of the house. You could only feel even tenser in his embrace, feeling your aunt's gaze puncturing you even more.
"Whatever Madam is speculating, the Lady is not to be blamed. In fact, it is all my fault," Christensen quickly remarks. His eyes dart towards the staffs that are still around them, not sure how much he should let on about the truth to the situation.
Aunt Anasthasia, her expression unreadable, then turns around to return to her mansion, her maids following suit.
"His Excellency, please allow me to offer you.. my earnest apology. If your schedule permits you, would you mind telling me the situation in my husband's study? I would want to know the full context of the situation as the girl is still a member of our estate after all,"
"Sure. Anything that would ease the minds off of the misunderstanding. I assure Madam that there is really nothing to apologise for," Christensen returns to his composure and removes himself from you, his eyes peering to your lowered ones as he explains.
"I- .. I have to-" he starts whispering but is quickly interrupted by your aunt.
"Please guide His Excellency to my husband's study. Make sure that the twins, especially Hanna, do not hear anything about this matter, and..."
"As for you, do cleanse yourself off of the.. mess that you are right now before attending to your remaining chores," much to your surprise, she calmly instructs you. Although, it is still too early to sigh a relief as who knows what'd happen once Christensen and the Crown Prince leave.
"Right away, Mistress," you softly reply and curtsy towards her leaving figure. One last soft tap on your back signals you that Christensen has left your side to join your aunt. With the sound of footsteps growing distant, you brave yourself to raise your head and meet the rest of the staffs that are still around the entrance. You are not sure how much this is going to affect your relationship with your aunt, but you can tell for sure how this has affected your likability among the staffs. Infamy would be more suitable, you suppose? You have never been likeable among the staffs from the beginning anyway.
Ignoring everyone's growing judgmental stares on you, you take unwavering steps back to your basement to clean and get yourself a change of clothes. Yeah, you can't crumble down so easily like this. Though nothing has unfolded like the way you imagined it, you had always had this scenario at the back of your mind.
Ah, it starts again.
Even though you are trying so hard to keep your head held high, you feel so small as you feel the stares prickling your back start to grow in numbers. So powerless as they start to weigh your tired heart. It feels just like that day. The day that started this all.
Witch
You can start hearing the whispers. You know they aren't real. They were something from the past, but they ring oh so vividly in your ears. With each time the whispers getting louder, you start to pick up your pace. So does your breath.
Then the image of your sick mother flashes. And her translucent golden wings.
Witch
You've reached your door, but your hands are too shaky to turn the knob. You keep wiping the cold sweat off of your scarred palms but you still can't open the DAMN. DOOR. Instead, the sound of you fumbling just seems to attract everybody else. And their stares.
Another image flashes. It's your father putting up a brave facade in front of you. Though sheltered you were, you still had an inkling of how dark the situation on the day had been.
Dark just like the inside of the magic wardrobe when your mother closed its doors. With you in it.
Though, it was not dark for so long before a spectrum of orange and red seeped in through the crack on the doors.
You bite your lips, preventing yourself from choking but you can't hold the dam in your eyes from leaking. Strangely, the wet sensation on your cheeks has calmed the nerves on your hands and you are now able to open the door to your room.
You remember seeing the crimson colour dance at your feet where the light stopped. You heard people screaming, one belonged to your mother. This is a magic wardrobe, you softly chant to yourself instinctively. Not caring if anyone around you catches it.
Should you have opened the wardrobe doors, you wonder? What could have been behind those wooden fixtures on that day?
You never saw it with your own two eyes directly, but you have always imagined what the fire looked like. The image started off as this small blurry blob of red until one day Hanna and Hansen destroyed your light bulbs, forcing you to go through the night with an oil lantern. No one knew what effect it would have had on you, not even you, yourself. But your chronic anxiety paired with the sight of fire was the catalyst to your pyrophobia. That small flame of the lantern did feel like it, you know. How could you possibly mistake the sensation anyway? Your brain has never allowed you to forget that day like a never-ending disease. That seemingly alive entity; it shone the same colours as the one that you saw that day, onto your dark basement walls. It emanated the same warmth that you felt before you blacked out. The warmth that you, in self-denial, had thought was your parents'.
No.
That warmth was a blanket of your guilt. For being the only one to survive. For having done nothing in naivety. For letting your parents die.
You suddenly feel nauseous, and so you immediately rush into your room and to the bathroom. You try to retch up the nasty feeling inside your gut but you can't even breathe properly so you just choke as tears stream down your cheeks. Giving up while still gasping for air, you sit on your bathroom floor with your face buried in your hands. In an attempt to stop the tears, you close your eyes, but all you can see is crimson and vermillion swirling. And... black spots.
Freckles.
You softly exhale at the sudden still-thought, your diaphragm finally cooperating with your dishevelled mind. It is a very random image that your mind conjures up out of nowhere.
One. Two. Three...
You inhale and exhale at the mental count. Of the... freckles.
Four. Five. Six...
Before you know it, your mind goes autopilot with the tally, and you now consciously recall the stranger whom these freckles belong to. How you met him, how he saved you, and the words you've exchanged with him.
"It's Ace," you remember his vibrant voice. His timbre sounds obnoxious, but you suppose that's why the whispers that have been ringing in your ears are now fading away.
"Ace," you whisper the name softly, at the same time confirming that you are now breathing okay. You eventually stand up and steady yourself by holding onto the sink. Turning the water tap on, you start washing your face. Your memory emptily wanders to his smile that became the last thing you saw of him, turning it into a momentary panacea for your trepidation.
***
Back in the royal palace, Christensen uneasily walks back to his designated office. His fingers slightly twitch at the absence of the feeling of your skin. Under his calm demeanour, anger is bubbling inside him as he recalls his previous conversation with your aunt.
Silence filled the enclosed space within the walls of Lord Egret-Montgomery's study. It had been a few minutes since Christensen entered the room and made himself comfortable on one of the seats, however, the older lady who was with him didn't seem like she was going to speak any soon.
So Christensen cleared his throat to ease the building up tension before starting,
"I apologise for starting up a ruse in your premise, Madam. I assure you that everything is all on your humble guest and-"
"Will you tell the Crown Prince of this event?" Anasthasia finally spoke.
"No. I do want to believe that the motivation behind the Egret family hiding My Lady's existence is to protect her from harm's way... from the Council members who wanted the late Duke dead," Christensen hesitantly replied. He knew that at this point he might be merely speculating, but he secretly did wish that what he believed was right.
"Ah yes. The assassination from six years ago. My husband and I were there when they were concocting the whole narrative. It felt very much like planning for a stage play," Anasthasia remarked, her fingers gently tracing the shape of the teacup on her hand. Her eyes were empty as they looked at the reddish-brown liquid in it.
Christensen hung his head low, not too sure on how to reply. His mind was merely filled with the thoughts of your safety.
"Living the life of nobles, the likes of us cannot really say or enquire many things in a straightforward manner, and so we learn to infer. And I have seen how you acted around her, Hanna also couldn't stop talking about it then when all of you went to the Academy. However, I have to hear this from you, yourself, Your Excellency," the older woman finally looked up, waiting for the officer to meet her eyes. Christensen became intrigued, but tense at the growing intensity in Anasthasia's gaze on him.
"What do you think of... her?"
Of course. He knew the answer to this one by heart.
"Madam... I am fond of her."
The question really caught him by surprise. However, from today's incident, Christensen found the conviction to answer it confidently.
"I have always adored Ms Egret, and I want to protect her! If you let me, she can take shelter in Christensen manor, and I will make sure to care for-"
"Shelter? You meant; hide her.. forever?" Anasthasia cut him midway. She scrunched her eyebrows annoyedly, not satisfied with his answer at all.
"What would you do about the Central, both the Council and the Crown, especially with your gradually increasing influence in it? Those same people who killed her parents are going to have more interest in you, you'll be put under more scrutiny. Then how are you going to shield her from those and make sure harm doesn't come her way?" She continued as she gripped onto the porcelain cup that was still on her hand. The tea turning cold just like the tension in the study.
"I..." Christensen could not come up with any retort, his belief is shaking at every second of his silence.
"I figured—apologies for this old woman's impudence, Your Excellency. But I'd rather that Your Excellency dispel your interest in her at all," Anasthasia reflected, placing her cup back onto the saucer before standing up.
"Madam, you have to reconsider that I have her best interest in-"
"Call the guards and have them escort His Excellency to the entrance in discreet. I don't need Hanna to nag me after this too," and she left the study with a disconcerted Christensen behind.
The disrespect shown by your aunt is far the least thing he is concerned about, he is angry how his opinion regarding you was easily dismissed by the woman. Not to mention, considering the way she and her family treats you in her estate.
The hypocrisy!
Losing in his thoughts on how to get you out of there and right where you should belong — yes, in his arms, within his grasp and sight — he fails to notice a figure entering his office and creeping slowly to surprise him from behind.
"Freddie!" Christensen is startled from his thought as he suddenly hears the voice calling out his nickname.
And there is only one person who calls him that.
"Ah- yes, Your Majesty," he slightly turns to bow in acknowledgement of the other person's presence.
"You weren't in the mansion when I finished talking with Egret," at the mention of your surname and his disappearance, Christensen starts to get a little bit panicky. The Crown Prince does not notice that as he quickly recomposes himself to correct his mistake.
"Or technically Egret-Montgomery? Dearie, it is such a mouthful though. I keep calling Egret 'Egret', you see," the royalty shakes his head as the other male mentally heaves a sigh.
"Yes, Baron Egret-Montgomery decided not to take over the late Duke's house after his passing."
"With such an unambitious father, I suppose being his son can be so frustrating," the Crown Prince reflects, recalling his previous conversation with Hansen. His smile is ever-growing, as he pictures the success of his grand scheme in his mind.
"I infer that he is willing to take part in the movement?"
"Yes! Freddie, I can't believe that we are almost there," the Crown Prince cheers jovially.
"I am happy for Your Majesty too, but this humble officer would like to gently remind you that this plan still has its risks."
"Mhm yes, but you know what, Freddie. Every time I weigh on the daunting risks, I can't help but get thrilled. This kingdom is so boring anyway, we as the 'future of the kingdom' have to be innovative and spice things up, don't you think?"
"Aside from that, I think, like me, you are most definitely curious as to why the World Government was involved in the assassination, yeah?"
"Hm," Christensen gives a curt nod as he stares into the empty space on his desk.
"My, that look. I wouldn't doubt anymore that the rumour of you falling for the late Young Lady of the Egret House is true. I usually tell myself that I do not need men with emotional baggage. But if those emotions can fuel them into giving the things that I want, I will take that bet," the royal member comments, stopping his silent celebration to place one hand onto Christensen's shoulder. The action draws Christensen's attention back to him. His eyes noting the seriousness in his counterpart's gaze.
"I will not disappoint you. Please rest assured, Your Majesty,"
"That's my Freddie~. Now, I would say that it is a waiting game right now, but I want you to keep watch of Egret ... -Montgomery and make sure he is fulfilling his side of the deal."
"Understood."
Yeah, this is going to be Christensen answer to your aunt's previously-asked question. He is going to destroy everyone that is in his way. It initially started off as revenge, to the current regime — the one with his father in it. However, the situation has changed now; you are still alive. My, even after six years in such an unkempt condition, your beauty still manages to take his breath away. And though you were reluctant in your reunion, Christensen believes that he can change your mind upon the success of this mission. And you will finally only have your beautiful eyes on him.