If Lucette Wasn't Cursed

by Saturn10710

Instead of being woken and cursed in the middle of the night, Lucette wakes up, still a princess, because for unknown reasons Delora decides not to curse her. As the Ice Princess has no incentive to be good, through the events of the next few months, will she still become good? Will she remain the same? Or will she fall to the same temptations as her mother and plunge into evil?

1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. Why am I starting a new story when I already have two incomplete ones? Well, simply, my brain tends to jump between ideas a lot. Anyway, a few months ago I downloaded Cinderella Phenomenon, and I never used to think much of otome games or visual novels (I actually used to think they were stupid...) but I absolutely LOVE CP! It's so good! And then I got the idea for this story and I just HAD to write it down. I posted this on AO3 a while back and on the CP amino, but there wasn't a category here, so I requested one, and this morning they finally added it! So here it is. :)

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Chapter 1

I wake up, then sigh.

Today's just going to be the same as every other day.

Well, at least I don't have to go to town with Emelaigne ever again. Yesterday was a disaster.

Why do I even bother going to meals?

The same thing is going to happen today. I'll walk in, the king and Ophelia will greet (ahem, attempt to greet, in the latter's case) me, Rod will barely acknowledge me, and Emelaigne will either cheerfully greet me or she will walk in late while cheerfully proclaiming she lost track of time reading a book.

Then the king will ask about the book and they will start a conversation that will raise my father's spirits for the rest of the day.

Then the rest of breakfast will be spent in relative silence with the four of them conversing at certain points and I will interject as I see fit.

And the king will smile at all of them lovingly before turning his disappointed gaze to me.

And then I will go to my room and talk to my dolls.

The same thing, every day.

I remember what Fritz said yesterday. About change sometimes being a good thing.

But…Mother never changed. And if she was still alive today, she would still be the same; loving, beautiful, my light.

Why am I even thinking about this?

However, I grudgingly let the maids in when they knock on my door and let them dress me. I can't show weakness, after all.

I wish Mother was here.

Mother would make everything better. She would make everything brighter.

I shake my head to clear those thoughts once the servants are gone, each curtseying carefully and perfectly before hurrying out the door.

They fear me. All of them do.

But it ensures they all complete their work perfectly. A palace servant should feel grateful to have the chance to work here; there is no room for flaws, even the slightest one.

I scoff when I remember how Emelaigne got so mad when I fired that maid who ripped one of my doll's dresses. Annice, I believe her name was.

Emelaigne argued that I should give the maid another chance; it was only her first day and all that nonsense.

But Mother never tolerated mistakes. And neither do I. Who cares if she was new? I have no time to let a maid be trained; she was hired to work! And she will do it perfectly, or not do it at all. If she needs the money, she may find it elsewhere.

I smirk when I remember Emelaigne's face as I told her all of this. It was amusing, to say the least.

But it is almost breakfast time and I really must go now, no matter my own feelings. So I hold my head high, make sure one last time my hair is flawless, and head out the door. As usual, the servants linger and gossip in the hallways until they see me; suddenly the laziness is replaced with frantic bows and curtseys and them hurrying back to their work.

The king once told me that fear is not a good motivator, and that a kingdom should be ruled with love and care, but I've seen different.

Fear works. It makes people actually get up and do something productive with their useless lives. The way the king babies the people of Angielle angers me sometimes, because he treats them as if they are his own family.

Treats them better than he has ever treated me. Strangers, better than me.

Yet he still wonders why I did not welcome Ophelia and her kids into the palace when we were first introduced.

She only married him for the power and security anyway. After all, who could refuse the king?

But how could he claim to love a baker? How could he claim to love a woman so intently when I had never met nor even heard of her until he brought her to the palace little more than a year ago? How can he fall in love so fast?

How could he act as if Mother never existed? As if Mother wasn't already the most beautiful, most graceful, most elegant, and loveliest? As if she was not the embodiment of perfection herself?

In fact, now that I think about it…I cannot remember any moment in my childhood where I have witnessed the king act as affectionately towards Mother as he now does with Ophelia.

I actually…cannot remember a single moment in which I have seen my father even hint that Mother was important to him.

When he was married to Mother for years. Years. And had me, a blood daughter, sharing his eyes.

But no, he prefers a lowly baker with two grown children to take on as burdens yet treats them as proper royalty.

And her children? At least Rod keeps to himself, mostly. The only time I have seen him show any emotion towards me was yesterday, when Emelaigne was being particularly annoying when we went to town.

I was surprised, but I suppose it should have been obvious that he would take his sister's side, no matter that she was in the wrong; making the king order me to accompany her and then acting as if we were becoming friends.

Emelaigne…she acts so sweet, so kind, so loving and selfless and it makes me want to puke. It is obvious she has taken everything my father has said about ruling a kingdom and infused it into her personality, in the hopes that one day the king will recognize her and proclaim her the crown princess instead of me.

She could never rule. She isn't suited for it. Even the king, despite being lax with the subjects, can be stern with criminals and the like.

Emelaigne, however…hah, she would probably procure a promise to never commit crimes again, then send them on their way, pastry in hand.

Well, acting so innocent and joyful isn't a technique that I will say will work, not on my father and his advisors, but…after the outing yesterday…I do not think the people would protest if ever she became queen instead of me.

They would probably prefer it.

Whatever. At least I know I am more suited for the role. Mother raised me to be the perfect queen. Emelaigne was raised in learning how to bake the perfect cookies.

She is like a child, really. If she truly wants to be queen, she should take after me, and not her stupid mother.

She may have stolen the hearts of the people, but I don't need their hearts to rule their land.

I pass Sir Mythros on the way to the dining room, and he bows to me.

"Good morning, princess," He greets.

I feel no different towards him than I did yesterday. I am entirely distrustful of him, despite him being the king's senior advisor, along with Sir Alcaster, the leader of the knights of the Order of Caldira.

Despite this, I offer him a nod and a "Sir Mythros," as acknowledgement.

"In a hurry, princess?" Sir Mythros asks, wearing that same smile that just seems…slimy to me.

"I do not wish to be late to breakfast, Sir Mythros," I say brusquely, and push past him. He speaks again though, when my back is to him.

"Well you are certainly more punctual than Princess Emelaigne…"

This grabs my attention. I turn my head to look over my shoulder at him and raise an eyebrow slightly. "Did you mean something by that statement, Sir Mythros?"

His smile becomes crooked. "Oh, nothing, princess. I was simply commenting on the responsibilities one must take in order to be queen. Some of those responsibilities are proper etiquette, are they not?"

"Of course," I say. "But you must excuse me now."

Sir Mythros gets a glint in his eye that I can't quite decipher. "Of course, princess," he says as he bows once again. "My apologies, Your Highness, if I have delayed you."

I turn my head forward again and make the rest of the way to the dining room, wondering on the strangeness of Mythros' statement. Of course, I know that Emelaigne has yet to learn many of the responsibilities that come with being a princess, which is of course part of the reason she is so unfit to be queen, despite what the people seem to think.

And yes, she is very lacking in etiquette; she has still not learned many simple rules that Rod has quickly picked up on.

But being punctual is not just a thing of royalty, as far as I know. It is not something only nobles and royals practice; it is a common courtesy to be on time. It is just an internal flaw Emelaigne has, to not have track of the time, no matter how many times she says, "Next time I won't be late!" in that high-pitched voice of hers.

Did Sir Mythros purposely say such a thing to confuse me? Because he knew saying strange, random statements would make my head spin?

Oh, well, I'll just forget about it.

I should just be content that at least one of the top advisors seems to agree that I am far more suitable for queen than Emelaigne, and, dare I think it, Ophelia as well.

The servants open the doors when they see me, bowing as well. I ignore them, as usual.

Well, it turns out I am late this time. Even Emelaigne is here before me.

Stupid Mythros, mumbling about punctuality and such nonsense. I always knew he was weird.

"Good morning, Lucette," My father says from the head of the table. He tilts his head curiously. "Is there a reason you are late?"

He never asks Emelaigne why she is late in such an accusatory manner. No, this voice is only reserved for me, the daughter he doesn't love.

Why should I answer him? Do I have to answer him because he is the king? Because I am the crown princess?

Or do I have to answer because he is my father? If that is the case, then I won't answer at all, because he has never acted as a father to me.

No, that role is reserved for Emelaigne and Rod only.

So I say nothing, not even a greeting back as I take my usual seat to the right of the king.

"Lucette…?" The king asks again. Again, I do not answer; I simply glance in his direction for a few seconds, nod slightly, then start my meal.

"Good morning, Lucette!" Emelaigne exclaims, as if I have made her day by showing up to breakfast.

Maybe if you stopped trying to be the center of attention at all times and instead looked to your brother as an example, you wouldn't be so irritating.

I send her a glare. Her smile falters but doesn't drop completely.

"Good morning, Lucette." Ophelia is the last to try to greet me, with a soft smile of her own. When I don't respond, her smile does fall completely, unlike her daughter's.

I never respond to you with a "Good morning, Ophelia," yet you act so disappointed every time I do not. Why do you put on such an act?

Because it can only be an act. Surely she cannot think that if she just tries enough, tries just enough times, I may respond warmly?

That I may change towards her eventually?

"Change is unnecessary, Lucette. If people stayed the same, we would never have these problems," Mother said to me once.

"Lucette, greet your mother," the king says sternly.

Ah, so he is more offended at my ignoring of his beloved wife than he is of my ignoring him?

I do not know what comes over me, but the next thing I know I am saying, "How can I greet her? My mother is dead."

The king sighs, as he finally seems to realize I am in a worse mood than usual.

Well, who wouldn't be, after the disaster yesterday, which was really all his fault?

But I have no desire to be scolded today, so I set down my silverware on my mostly uneaten plate of food.

"May I be excused?"

The king's eyes harden. "You have barely eaten."

"May I be excused?" I repeat, staring straight into his eyes and refusing to look away. Finally, he relents.

"Fine. Yes, Lucette, you may be excused."

I stand up and walk out, still holding my head high.

As soon as I am out the doors, I hear a familiar, but not unwelcome, voice call out,

"Good morning, princess!"

I turn to face my personal knight, Sir Fritzgerald, and nod at him. "Good morning, Fritz."

He really is the only person I can tolerate for any period of time.

We start making the trek back to my room, with Fritz following a few steps behind as he is supposed to.

He really has improved since he started three years ago. In terms of how he is with a sword, I only know that his skills are only rivaled by his father, Sir Alcaster, but in terms of how to behave as a knight of the Order of Caldira and the personal knight to the crown princess…well, he wasn't perfect in the beginning.

Maybe it is strange, then, that I did not berate him for his mistakes. But that was three years ago, when I was still wallowing in my grief, and I did not care to pay attention to a knight, even if his job was to follow me everywhere and protect me.

Besides, I knew there would be no point to complain, because disregarding issues of etiquette, he really is the best for maintaining my safety, whereas a clumsy or lazy palace servant is an entirely different case and not beneficial at all.

"Was it the king, the queen, or Princess Emelaigne this time?" Fritz asks knowingly. I give him a sideways glance.

He always seems to know when I am in a bad mood. Or when I am in any mood.

He…at this time…besides my dolls…he really does know me best.

"All of them," I say.

I know Fritz is shaking his head from behind me, even if I do not see it.

"I know it must be hard, princess. That is why…" He trails off.

"That is why…?" I ask, prompting him to continue.

He doesn't answer, so I stop and turn around.

"What were you about to say?"

"I just…" Fritz avoids my eyes nervously, as if afraid of my reaction, "I just wanted you to know, princess, that as your personal knight, I am bound by oath to you and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe…and happy."

And happy?

I blink.

"I…see," I say finally as I swivel back around, and we continue to walk.

What else is there to say?

Am I not happy?

Regardless…it is nice, to be able to…trust Fritz. I think…I think he is probably the only person I really do trust right now.

But I cannot blindly trust him. Yes, he is bound by oath, and many knights seem to have become so out of a sense of duty and loyalty to the crown, but their intentions cannot be pure.

That is what Mother warned me of. That no one's intentions, not even a knight's, can ever be pure. There must be something Fritz wants or expects in return for his loyalty.

I cannot figure out what he wants to gain by serving me.

I need to clear my head.

"I…I am going to take a walk in the gardens, Fritz," I say suddenly, turning on my heel and walking in the direction of my new destination.

He does not ask why, he simply nods and follows me out.

As we are about to walk through the doors leading to the gardens, however, a maid rushes up to us, panting heavily. I glare at her.

"What?" I say. It is not common for maids to approach me like this.

But when she curtseys nervously, she is looking at Fritz, not me.

"I-I am sorry, Your Highness, but Sir Alcaster has just requested to see Sir Fritz," she says, head bowed.

I grit my teeth. "Must he see him now?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the maid says, visibly shaking. "He told me it is important."

I ignore the maid and turn to Fritz, raising my eyebrows questioningly.

"I do not know what he needs me for, princess," Fritz says, "But if he is calling for me now, it must be important."

Sir Alcaster is the leader of the Order of Caldira and Father's top advisor, but I am the crown princess. If I say Fritz cannot go, then he will have to stay with me.

But…if it truly is important…

Besides, I really do wish to be alone.

I nod once. "You may go."

He smiles at me gratefully. "Thank you, princess. I will send for another knight to take my place temporarily."

I nod and he bows, before turning around and walking off. The maid runs off with a quiet, "Excuse me, Your Highness," and I walk through the doors to the garden.

I admire the flowers, particularly the lilies, as I walk. When I told Mother they were my favorite, she had extra lilies planted for me.

Mother…if only the accident never happened.

I barely notice the knight who comes to replace Fritz, standing at the edge of the path, looking all around me, as is his job.

I am brought out of the peacefulness, however, by Emelaigne's voice.

"Lucette!"

Ugh. If she is going to invade my sanctuary here I really should have just gone to my room.

I turn towards her, narrowing my eyes. She is panting, as if she has just run the whole path. I notice she is clutching a wrapped gift with a blue bow on top in her hands. I wonder if I have forgotten someone's birthday, or maybe it is the birthday of one of her friends from town and she is on her way there now.

So I am surprised when, as she recollects herself, she holds out the gift in her hands. Towards me.

"What do you want?" I snap, not in the mood for her overly-friendliness.

Emelaigne takes a step back at my tone. "I only wanted to give you this," she says quietly, as if I am the one at fault, as if I have genuinely hurt her.

I want to scoff at this. As if she got a gift for me out of the good of her heart.

More likely, she is trying to just get closer to me so that she can betray me later and use anything she knows to her advantage.

"Well I don't want it," I say, not caring about the hurt look in her eyes or the way all the happiness seems to seep out of her.

But it is not true sadness. It can't be true sadness. She is only sad that her efforts are failing, not sad at my continued rejection of her friendship.

I expect her to turn around, perhaps walk back to her room, head hung low, but she smiles once again, though it doesn't reach her eyes.

Emelaigne holds out the gift again. "Even if you don't want it, Lucette, I insist you take it. I bought it, and I have no use for it, and no one else I know has any use for it, so it would be best not to let it go to waste, right?"

"Why today?" I ask, narrowing my eyes, "There is no special occasion today. It is not my birthday, nor is it a holiday."

"There doesn't always have to be a reason to give someone a gift!" Emelaigne says, still smiling. "Besides, we're sisters now, and I really just wanted to get you something. On your birthday, I'll make sure to get you something even better!"

I sneer at her. "We are not sisters, no matter what you seem to have convinced yourself. So just go back to your room and wallow over your regret at wasting your money," I say, before turning away from her, intent on continuing my walk without the irritating girl by my side. One would think she was eleven, not nineteen, by the way she acts sometimes!

"Lucette!" Emelaigne grabs my arm, catching me by surprise and forcing me to turn back around and face her. "I really want you to have this. I…don't know if you'll like it but…I hope you will at least give it a look and give me a chance."

And before I can protest, she slides the hand that was gripping my arm down to my hand, holding my palm as she places the small package in it before turning around and running back down the path as quickly as she came. I am still in shock to process what just happened so I can go chase after her.

No doubt she is running so that I have less chance of catching up to her and throwing the "gift" at her feet anyway.

I stare at the gift in my hand, contemplating. I certainly did not expect Emelaigne to be so persistent as to forcefully hand me the gift. She's always so mild; while her words are loud and attention-grabbing, she rarely acts so boldly.

Should I open it?

What's the worst that could happen? It is not likely to be a magical object, so what is the harm in opening it?

Besides, while Emelaigne may pretend to be my friend (and the friend of everyone in town…) I do not think she is malicious enough to give me an object that will hurt me.

Well, to put it better, she is simply not clever or crafty enough. She has not seen enough of the world.

Well, neither have I, but Mother was there to teach me through her own experiences. Ophelia, on the other hand, has taught Emelaigne nothing, letting her do as she pleases.

I am curious, though, so after another moment of contemplation, I untie the ribbon, noting that it is blue, my favorite color.

It's simply coincidence. There is no way for Emelaigne to know it is my favorite color.

I unwrap it, surprised by what I see.

Emelaigne…got me a doll. But it's not nearly as pretty as the ones I have in my room, and it is rubbish compared to Delora, my favorite doll.

In fact, it looks very similar to the ones I saw yesterday in Viorica's shop. I wasn't particularly paying attention, but…

Didn't Emelaigne buy something there?

Was that her reason for going? To buy me this?

Well, that can't be her only reason. She obviously went because the she is close to the shop girl. But I did think it was odd that she was buying a doll, considering that she much prefers her books.

What had she said?

"I'm here to get some toys. Gifts for some new friends."

I almost throw the doll into the ground right then and there. Friends? Who does she think she is? That we are friends?

I don't need friends. I have myself, and that is enough.

But suddenly I remember. A whisper of a memory. Of sewing a doll. It looked terrible.

But then I kept sewing and sewing until I got better. I haven't sewn in a long time.

I…miss it.

I remember…a vague memory…

"You're so bad at this!"

"As long as you keep guiding me, I'm sure I will get better, Little Star."

I shake my head. What was that? Why do I feel…as if I have just remembered something important?

It…shouldn't matter, really…but I have felt, very often, that…I can't remember things sometimes about my childhood. Emelaigne is always chattering about her childhood with Rod and her town friends. She remembers some things in such detail.

But…for me, the only things I can remember in detail are memories of Mother. Not interactions with servants, or with Father, or with the knights, or anyone else. The other memories are all…fuzzy.

And I feel…that there are some things that I should remember, but I don't. As if they are just out of my grasp.

And sometimes, when I wake up from a particularly bad dream, I feel that I have remembered something, but I quickly forget by the time I am awake.

I used to think nothing of it…but then how can Emelaigne recall her childhood so well? When I can't?

Is this not normal?

I shake my head again. It does me no good to think about that.

But what to do with the doll?

Well…

I remember that old doll I have in the bottom of my drawer. It really is nothing more than rags and beads sewn together with string that has become worn out.

Why do I even keep it? I cannot even understand myself, but whenever I think of throwing it out, part of me feels such sadness of losing such a thing that I refrain from doing so.

But I still cannot understand what compels me to keep it. It's as if…it's part of another memory that is just out of reach for me.

I take another look at the doll Emelaigne gave me. It's not as pretty or made of as high quality material as my dolls on my shelf, but it is nowhere near the grotesqueness of the old doll I keep in my drawer.

I wrap the doll once more, tying it back up with the ribbon. I…do not want Emelaigne to see I have…accepted her gift, so I rush to get back to my room. Oh, how I wish this dress had pockets.

On the way, I pass Rod, who is heading in the opposite direction. He simply flicks his eyes over to me, barely acknowledging me, which is unusual even for him. Usually he will at least nod in my direction.

I suppose he is still angry after my treatment of Emelaigne yesterday, or possibly this morning as well, but surely he must realize his sister was being much too insistent. She should know when to stop trying to be my friend.

But then his voice calls out towards me.

"Lucette."

I swivel around. "What?" I say sharply.

He gestures to the gift in my hand. "Did Emelaigne give that to you?"

I lift my chin. "That is no concern of yours. If that is all, I will be on my way." Before he has a chance to say anything more, I turn on my heel once more and walk quickly back to my room.

Once I am in the safety of my own room, sitting on my bed, I carefully weigh the wrapped doll in my hands, unsure.

Should I keep it?

It would ruin the look of my shelf, but then, I could always just place the doll in the very back, unseen. Or I could just put in in the drawer with the older one.

Then it hits me.

Why do I care so much about a doll Emelaigne bought for me?

I guess it is because it was very unexpected. It is not hidden knowledge that I like dolls and that I have a large collection of them, so it is not unlikely that she has known about my interest for a long time.

But I am still surprised. The only people who had ever gifted me dolls were Mother, before, and now Father.

But what Father gives me on my birthday is just obligatory. I am his daughter, so of course he has to get me a gift for my birthday. It is nothing special.

But…Emelaigne? It is not my birthday, nor is it any holiday or special occasion. And I certainly did not get her anything when she turned nineteen.

Neither did she get me anything when I turned seventeen. That was just after Father married Ophelia and she and her kids were brought into the palace. There was a grand feast for me, as usual, but unlike all the other ones, most of the nobles' attention was taken by the new members of the royal family.

What is so special about them anyway? Ophelia is a baker, taking over her husband's business after he passed several years ago. And Emelaigne would have taken over when she was older.

But then Father disrupted all of our lives by "falling in love" with that woman and bringing her into the palace.

I wonder…what does that love feel like? Mother always said the only love only exists between a mother and her daughter, so I wonder what Father actually feels for Ophelia, when he has fooled himself into thinking he loves her, as if this is a Fairytale.

It's almost like that one tale I heard the servants talk about. I did not read many before Mother burned them, but I have heard about several others.

There was the one about the poor girl who goes to a ball, finds a prince, and after she loses a glass slipper and he searches for her using the shoe, they eventually marry.

It's such a dumb tale. It only encourages people to be lazy and wait around for life (and a prince) to be handed to them. But I guess it came true for Ophelia.

Eventually, I decide on just throwing the gift, wrapped up again in its yellow paper and blue ribbon, into my bottom drawer where the older doll still resides.

"Hello, Delora," I say brightly, when I have put Emelaigne's doll away.

Well, it is now mine I guess, but I am still tempted to throw it in Emelaigne's face when I next see her. The look of shock on her face would be well worth having the servants and Rod notice me carrying it around.

For the servants gossip like crazy. They pretend they don't care about anything that goes on here, but I suppose their work is really that boring that they have to amuse themselves by gossiping about the royal family.

But they're not working at the palace to entertain themselves, they're here to work, and they should do what they are being paid for.

I stand up and pick up Delora from where she resides on my shelf; the topmost shelf and in the middle and front of the row. She deserves that place, she is so pretty and lifelike.

"I've neglected you today, haven't I?" I say, brushing her hair away from her face. "I'm sorry. I've just had a lot on my mind."

I go over to my door and open it a crack, frustrated when I still see Fritz' replacement instead of himself guarding the hallway outside my door.

I shut the door and plop onto my bed, still holding Delora. "It seems Fritz still isn't back yet. I wonder what business was so important that Sir Alcaster needed him so urgently and for so long."

Soon, lunch is delivered to my door.

At least I only have to spend two meals a day with the rest of them. At least for now, I can relax.

"Emelaigne gave me a doll today," I say to Delora, who is standing neatly on my bed as I eat. "She's nowhere near as gorgeous as you, though. I thought about throwing it away, but I felt compelled to keep it, so I threw it in the drawer. Mother would be disappointed in me. She would say only to accept gifts from her, because she is the only one that loves me."

I pause. "But then, Father gives me a doll every year and I accept it. I guess Mother would be really disappointed. But then if didn't accept Father's gifts, I wouldn't have you."

"Why did Emelaigne get me something anyway?" I ask, after the servant comes to collect my empty plates. "I know she is naïve, but she can't be stupid enough to think I don't hate her. Even she's not that dumb."

I flop backwards, holding Delora to my chest. "I wish people would just stop pretending and be honest. If Father would stop pretending that nothing is wrong and that he loves me…if Ophelia would stop pretending to be my real mother…if Emelaigne would stop acting as if she herself is the crown princess and that she is better than me…"

I close my eyes, remembering what happened earlier today in the garden, how Emelaigne seemed…genuinely sad. Which is weird, because I am sure she is just pretending, but is she really that good of an actress?

"Delora…I remembered something today. Something strange," I breathe out. "I remembered that old doll I keep in the bottom of my drawer, oh it's been here for years so you wouldn't know it, but it's old and ugly and I don't know why I keep it. But then I remembered…I think I was talking to someone. I used to sew, you know, and I remembered talking to someone. It was just very brief…but I think I felt happy then, when I was saying it, even though I sounded very annoyed. They were trying to sew but it wasn't going very well. But I still felt…happy."

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. "I wonder if it was a real memory. Or if it was just a weird daydream, like my dreams coming into my waking life. I wouldn't like that. Maybe I really should see a doctor about my dreams?"

I immediately shake my head at that. "No, I couldn't go to a doctor. Even though I can't sleep lately…I doubt a doctor could make it better."

I stare at the doll for a while. She really is so lifelike. It's so easy to talk to dolls, because they can't betray you. They can't turn on you and take all your secrets to turn against you.

"I wonder what it feels like to be happy. It's been so long since I've felt that way, I've forgotten how it feels…" I blink, blocking the tears from coming. It's been a few hours, surely…?

I roll off my bed, setting Delora back on her place on my shelf. "I will go see if Fritz is back."

I open the door a crack, and open it wider when I see who is standing outside of it, on guard as usual.

"Fritz!" I say. He turns to me and smiles.

"Good afternoon, princess."

I step fully outside my room, crossing my arms. "What took you so long?"

He frowns. "I apologize, princess. It seems my father's business took much longer than I thought."

"So what did he need you for?" I demand. He deflates at this.

"I-well, it was mostly things about me keeping up to my task-"

"Your task being guarding me at all times, your task within which your father decided to call you out of just to talk to you about it?" I say incredulously.

He smiles apologetically. "I am sorry, princess. I can't seem to…remember the specifics of it. Ah, but there were some things that are considered confidential, so I'm afraid I can't tell you."

I huff. "I'm the crown princess, why are there secrets being kept from me?" At this, Fritz stiffens and avoids my eyes.

I narrow my eyes. "And what do you mean you can't remember? You just came back from meeting with him, how can you not remember?"

He shrugs. "I am not getting any younger," he says, as if that alone explains everything.

I shake my head. "You're not that much older than I am."

He tilts his head, considering. "You're right, princess. I apologize if I insinuated that you were old as well."

"No, we are both young," I say, and he grins.

"What are you smiling for?" I ask. Honestly, he smiles all the time. It is not as irritating as Emelaigne's, however, because he is not as bubbly and attention-drawing as she is.

He is just…well, in a world of cruel people, he is an exception. Mother warned me that most people will just betray others if the opportunity arose, yet I can't imagine Fritz betraying me.

Fritz's smile just seems to grow at my question, though.

"I am conversing with you, princess. There is nothing more enjoyable."

What?

I scoff. "Stop exaggerating."

"Oh, but I am not exaggerating, Your Highness. I really do enjoy whenever we talk. I can only hope that you do not dislike our conversations."

It…it can't be that he truly means it?

But…Fritz is honest. That is one thing I have gathered from knowing him for three years. And he has never shallowly complimented me, nor has he said empty words to any other person in any interaction I have seen him in.

So…does he mean it? Does he truly find nothing more enjoyable than talking with me? Despite how everyone else in this palace fears me, hates me?

I shake my head. "Whether you are exaggerating or not, no, I do not dislike our conversations. Surely you are smart enough to realize that? If I didn't like talking to you, I would simply not talk to you at all."

He smiles, scratching the back of his head. "You're right, princess. That was a dumb question. I am honored that you like talking to me. I always thought of myself as quite boring."

I blink. Is Fritz boring? Well, he's not bubbly like Emelaigne, neither does he ooze false kindness like Ophelia, and he is not always wallowing in guilt and apologies whenever he sees me like Father. He is also not quiet, solitary, and emotionless like Rod.

"Well, sometimes boring is good," I say to him. "It's better – safer – than anything else. Sometimes it can be easier to trust boring."

"I will take that as a compliment, princess," Fritz says. "Thank you."

"Um, you're welcome?" I say unsurely. He just laughs. A passing maid looks between us with wide eyes, as if she cannot believe a knight (correction: anyone) is laughing in my presence, before she quickly hurries along.

I am wondering the same thing, though.

Why is my simple not-really-a-compliment making him so happy?

When he quiets down, he looks at me seriously. "I am also honored that you trust me, princess. I promise I will always be here to protect you. I will never let any harm come to you."

"I expect nothing less," I say truthfully. He is my personal knight after all, and Sir Alcaster's son, only second in ability to his father.

"Thank you, princess," he says, bowing his head. Is it just me, or do I detect a hint of guilt in his eyes?

"Well, good afternoon, Fritz," I say, before opening my door again. He bows.

"Good afternoon, princess."

I slide into my room, sprawling onto my bed.

"Delora," I say from my bed. "Fritz is acting weird. Or maybe it's just me, but I've known him for three years, so I feel like I at least know his mannerisms and such."

I sit up. "I mentioned people keeping secrets from me and he started acting weird, looking away from me as if he is guilty." I bite my lip. "Is Fritz…hiding something important from me? Something that is relevant to me? He cannot be feeling guilty if it is something simple, or something that doesn't really concern me at all."

I flop back down. "And what about that meeting with his father? He was gone for so long, and all Fritz says is some vague things about keeping me safe, then that he can't tell me the rest, but also that he can't even remember part of it!"

I sit up again and glare at my dolls, as if they are the offenders. But I know my frustration is misguided; they're dolls, and they didn't do anything.

They also can't feel, so I'm at perfect liberty to be as mean to them as I want to be.

Not that I am mean to them.

"Am I not the only one with memory problems, now? Except I can remember everything that happened to me within the past few hours. How strange is it that he claims he can't remember some things from a supposedly important meeting with his own father that occurred within the past few hours?"

I consider. I thought I could trust Fritz but…

"Delora, can I really not trust Fritz? He's the only one besides all of you I feel comfortable talking to, the only one I can actually tolerate…but if he is not telling me the truth…ugh, he really could have just said he couldn't talk about the meeting. He didn't have to lie! Mother was right. Even people who appear the most honest…you can never trust them. For if he's bothering to hide something from me…that must mean it is something important that has to do with me. And if he won't tell me, then Mother really was right about people like him."

I flop back down on my bed one last time, deflating. I want to trust Fritz. I want to trust that he isn't keeping things from me, things that I should know, that he doesn't have any malicious intent towards me.

But how can I?