The princess is young, so there must be a way that she could change, the Court Mage reasoned with herself.
The deadly sins, seven of them, were the main headaches of the mage's sharp yet aged head. It wasn't that she was old and decrepit in appearance; the Court Mage of Lucifenia was far from that, but she had seen much, experienced much and lost much. The twins were reunited in such an ironic manner; the male twin ended up being the servant of the female twin, being stripped off his royal rights to be his father's successor to the throne of the country, and Princess Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche did not remember a thing about him or about the fact that he even existed in the first place.
How tragic.
It had to be done. There was no other choice. The disturbances in the past in the political world of the country separated the royal twins and forced one in such a humiliating position, yet the former prince knew the significance of the changes. He knew that it had to be this way. There could be no other way, and there was no changing it unless they wanted more internal strife in an already wavering country.
The princess ate her afternoon snack at 3 that afternoon, with the Court Mage present.
She was a small girl-sized appropriately for her age. A princess of only 13 years old was already in charge of a country, and Elluka feared that the girl would demand for every childish fancy that could ever exist in this time and age. The economy was already bad as it is, and the Three Heroes were trying their best to uphold the country as best as they could, but they only had three pairs of hands and many, many useless ministers. With the princess's naive little blonde head and her sky blue eyes that had yet to see the world as it is behind the confined compounds of the Lucifenian palace, Elluka had to wonder whether the country was finally running out of luck, or whether some god, any god, got fed up and abandoned the nation.
But that wasn't the main problem. The main problem was that the princess was possessed.
The demon of Pride was something to be feared, for it possessed the current monarch of the country. Pride-that spelled everything wrong for the country. If the princess, who was already spoiled as she was, succumbed to her own whims and fancies, the country would be better off burning to the ground in a day. Better to see that than seeing the people starve day by day, and Elluka sincerely hoped in her heart of hearts that it wouldn't come to that.
The pink-haired mage shifted her gaze to the silent princess, who was slowly eating a pastry as if she was concentrating on eating alone.
Not once, but twice was that girl possessed.
"...You know, I'll steal one if you don't finish your food quickly," Elluka teased, but all she got was a sideways glance from the thoughtful princess and nothing in response. Riliane looked at her for a brief moment, then returned back to staring at the finely painted china.
This was getting nowhere, Elluka thought.
"Riliane?" the mage tried, taking a seat across the princess at her tea table in the gardens of the Heavenly Yard. "What's on your mind?"
Anne's daughter looked up from her empty plate.
"...Everything," was what she said.
je ne regrette rien
a Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche fanfiction
Chapter 1
the beginning
Rheumatism.
Old people tend to have so many problems. Creaking bones and aching limbs aren't things that could be easily remedied, and despite the augmentation of magic to decrease physical aging, there was only so much that this old witch could do. Here she was, an old, decrepit witch surrounded with books, scrolls, candles and the stereotypical feline; the textbook wicked witch of wherever a compass could direct one to.
In her wrinkled, aged hands was a letter from the little girl, Ney, stating that the kingdom of Lucifenia was finally under the complete control of the sole royal, Princess Riliane, and that one of the Four Mirrors of Lucifenia was given to the princess some time after the burial of Queen Anne. Someone should be panicking right about now-notably the Lucifenian court mage, Elluka Clockworker, and Abyss I.R. chuckled to herself in her raspy voice.
The wench didn't even deserve that name.
The demon of Pride should be influencing Anne's daughter right about now, and the destruction of Lucifenia would be the witch's greatest joy. To see so many years of hard work and prosperity, undone in a matter of time, oh, how thrilling! She folded the letter, then slowly walked to her fireplace and tossed the paper into the burning fire, listening quietly to the crackling sounds of burning paper as the fire ate away at the undercover maid's cursive handwriting. The seal was intact, and Abyss I.R. stared at the disintegrating letter with her vessel's cloudy vision.
Once upon a time, a glorious country went up in flames.
Once upon a time, she was at the verge of death. She was once a young girl, crying out to the heavens in pain and rage as blood stained the cobblestone floor of the once majestic palace of the Magic Kingdom Levianta.
It was a cold night-did it snow back then? Abyss I.R. couldn't remember. All she remembered was the pain, the fear of death and the sight of dead people with their features mangled up and their organs staining the once holy site of the Pantheon. A shining light of twin dragons, and Abyss I.R. remembered yet another thing.
Her strained throat struggling to scream, to cry out for someone or something to help her.
Well, that was five centuries ago, and here she was, still alive and very much comfortable.
'Who are we to turn to? Well I was told I would rule this country. Naturally, I shall, as I alone draw blood from the former King. However, I shall not inherit the throne. Until I became an adult, I shall leave the throne to my mother. My mother alone is the Queen, so I shall respect her with that. As the Princess and daughter of the former Queen, I shall take over my mother's rule.'
A fancy speech for a young girl. Maybe this was her early birthday gift? She didn't have to fight much for it-fate had already set it in such a way that no matter what happened, she would get the throne. Abyss I.R. could almost imagine the princess in the Hall of Sounds, asserting her new-found dominance over people who clearly read more than her, seen more than her and worked more than she ever did.
The witch laughed again, reveling in the newly created headache that she had presented on the gameboard for her dear, dear sister.
At the same time, the princess in question stayed up in her room that night.
Riliane could barely see straight in the dark, having not lit any candles to illuminate the night. Things were moving about in her room, or maybe that was her already distorted vision, which kept up since the past hour. She chose to keep quiet about the matter-it had started the day after her mother's funeral, and had half a mind to call the royal physician until she decided that it could've been a side-effect of grief for the dead.
But her vision was blurring, and she felt an uncomfortable heaviness. It was pressing against her heart, against her head and against her better judgement.
There was something in a book that she had read about a young king, before or after his coronation, had dreamed about God, who had asked him what he had wanted. The young king had asked for wisdom to rule his people, and God, in His delight, granted other things such as permanent victories over his enemies, endless riches and a prosperous kingdom.
Surely this wasn't what Riliane was experiencing. If God had chosen this approach, Riliane didn't want it.
She wasn't in the best of appearances; her long blonde hair limply fell around her petite face as she clawed at the sheets of her bed while sweating. Her lace nightgown, stitched with her preliminary levels of embroidery, only served to keep the uncomfortable heat that she felt, and despite the windows being open, Riliane felt suffocated. The room spun, and when she tried to move one hand, her mind started to go dizzy, disorienting her senses greatly.
Then she smelled corpses.
Riliane clutched at her chest, fighting to breathe. She had no energy to call anyone; the servants, Mariam, Elluka...she couldn't call anyone, much less speak.
Visions of her gallant father, the late king, fighting in dangerous battlefields against rebels or other kingdoms flashed in her eyes like vague memories, yet they didn't seem so wondrous and glorious as she had once thought. People died like flies on the battlefield, with their blood spilled on rock and their horses being struck down or shot from a distance by an archer or two-with those visions, Riliane felt extremely sick.
Visions of her beautiful mother, who had raised her flashed in her eyes like passing events, the golden gems of her childhood. Fate too had taken her dearest mother, the late queen away from her in the manifestation of a plague, a most terrible plague. Sickness was something to be feared of, and Riliane remembered the precautionary measures that the apothecaries set for themselves and not for the people-masks with long, protruding beaks that made them look like death personified instead of the savior of the sick and the learned people they were.
Riliane was fearful, and her fear grew as she realized that she couldn't speak.
She fought to keep alert-she fought to keep her eyes wide and open despite the confusingly horrific sights that she witnessed, but before she could even reach the end of her bed, she felt something touch her chin.
A cold, solid breeze.
By this time, she was crying.
"M...Ma..." was all she could muster as she tried to call for the Head of Maids, but as she struggled to clutch at her bedclothes, she took hold of something sharp instead, causing her to weakly gasp in pain. Blood stained the white sheets that were buried beneath her yellow comforter, and Riliane struggled to see what it was.
A sword.
A sword with a golden hilt, a sharp blade with her blood staining it.
The suffocating feeling from before left her instantly, but Riliane was too muddled to even care about anything else as she picked the sword up, staring at it in disbelief. It wasn't there before. How did it get there? Why was it here?
Why was this thing here?
"Your Highness, your hands-"
"Didn't I tell you to keep quiet? Treat them immediately!"
Allen Avadonia, chamberlain to the princess after a few days of service, treated the princess's wounded hands first thing in the morning. The sheets were changed without complaint, accompanied with Riliane's sharp orders to the servants concerned to not speak of the incident to anyone. As the ointment made contact with the angry red of her wounds, Riliane hissed in pain, glaring at the servant who surprisingly had a very close resemblance to her. The same blue eyes, the same blonde hair baffled Riliane, but no matter, it was something that she was proud of. A servant who looked exactly like her-no other monarch could've pulled that off. Something to show off as a bonus.
He had arrived a day before her declaration to the ministers by one of the Three Heroes, Leonhart Avadonia, much to her delight. Allen was a peculiar trophy; he wasn't one of the spoils of war, for there was no war lately, but he was someone that Riliane was proud of having in her service. Maybe it was because of his appearance, who knows? At least he was a visual form of entertainment; it was like looking into a mirror.
And it was around this time when Allen caught Riliane staring at him.
"...Mi'lady?"
"I wonder where you came from," Riliane said idly. "It's like someone foresaw that I would like a replica of myself and brought it about."
Allen blinked in confusion, but held himself back from laughing in fear of the princess's unpredictable moods. The princess's earlier claims of not joking about her decisive punishments were deeply rooted in his head, and it produced a sort of reaction from two out of the Three Heroes, notably the Court Mage and the Head of Maids. Testing the waters, he bandaged up the princess's delicate hands and looked at her pondering expression.
It was as if she was deep in thought, completely away from the matters of the world.
What could be going on in that head of hers?
"...Mi'lady, I would like to ask a question," Allen tried.
Riliane jerked a little at his voice, then nodded. "Go ahead."
"Your earlier statement," he began, then tried to remember. "You said that you weren't joking about your authority to behead people?"
The princess laughed, then extended her arms wide. "Allen. Look at all of this."
He looked. It was a grand room, full of ornaments and royal draperies, as well as the precious items that the princess loved. A comfortable four-poster bed with newly changed sheets looked comfortable enough to anyone who desired a good sleep, gold railings on the barriers that separated the bed from the rest of the room and tall, wide windows of glass that allowed the sunlight to stream in. Allen and Riliane were sitting on the embroidered carpet by her bed, and upon seeing the pride and joy in the princess's face, he allowed himself a small moment to smile as well.
But once upon a time, this was his room too.
"All of this is mine," Riliane proudly stated. "All of Lucifenia is mine. All of its people is mine. I have every right to say anything I want, or order for anything to be done under my name. And this is why I have to wield my authority accordingly, or whenever I please."
She looked at her chamberlain with a tickled smile.
"Isn't that right, Allen?"
He could only smile back weakly.
"That's right, Your Highness."
"Now that I've answered your question," Riliane huffed, then gave her arm for Allen to help her up, "it's time to plan for my birthday," she grinned.
Oh.
Right.
Her birthday, to which he shared with her.
"With everything that this kingdom has, surely it can grant me a grand birthday," the princess continued, walking out of her private quarters. "I'd like you to take note of what I specifically want for my birthday, which is coming up in a few days."
"Yes, Your Highness," Allen obediently nodded. "With the best of my ability."
"Invite the royalty of each country in the continent, and each noble in the country," Riliane began, walking through the halls. "I demand a great celebration, in which I will contemplate further on the details later."
"Of course, mi'lady."
A pause, then Riliane turned around. Despite Allen walking behind her, she wasn't looking directly at the servant. The halls seemed so endless, and if it wasn't for the sunlight that streamed through the majestic glass windows of the palace, it would've been an abyss of darkness that could swallow the both of them up whole. The princess remembered the sword on her bed, the sword that wasn't there in the first place, and she could've sworn that there was a servant who cheekily tried to play a prank on her, or worse, injure her as she slept.
But it wasn't there when she first got there, and she was alone.
And it was a beautiful sword. She was good at fencing-no one ever beat her. She was the best, wasn't she?
No, this wasn't about whether she was good in her swordplay. This was something entirely different; something was wrong. Something, deep in her heart of hearts, was telling her that this wasn't the Lucifenia that she grew up in, that this Lucifenia is slowly rotting to the ground. How could she know? The princess had never stepped out of the confines of the palace; that was unreasonable and unthinkable.
Something is wrong.
This isn't the glorious Lucifenia she once knew.
She needed to see this for herself. There was something terribly, terribly wrong.
"...Fetch my steed, Josephine, and do not speak of my departure."
A/N: I know I've been putting off updating Condominiums, Mendacium Speculorum and you don't bring me flowers anymore, but this is a new Evillious centered fic based on an AU idea about Riliane being influenced by the demon of Pride in...different ways. Patriotism will be increased, childish squabbling will be toned down to a bare minimum, and places will be burned.
-Densetsu-no-Maguro