Title: second chances
Rating: T
Summary: In a dark castle on a destitute planet, a king, queen, and their three daughters live out their days. The youngest, Stepha, is determined to escape her miserable family, so she steals a necklace and runs all the way to Magix, hoping for a fresh start. But Alfea isn't all she'd hoped, and troubles at home may just pull her back in. [next gen story]
a/n: what is up, you guys! This story has been in my head for a crazy long time (it was actually inspired by Frozen when it first came out, to give yall a sense of the timeframe. I don't think any of those elements are still in the story, though, because of how long I've had this sitting in my documents, worked on every so often. I think this will be my most OC heavy fan fiction, even though I'm usually not happy with that, it's a next gen, so kind of required.
FYIs: this is a Winx next-gen story; I stopped watching Winx at season 4, though I've incorporated a few select elements of later seasons; some elements, like the Eraklyonian civil war, are from the comics, but this is mostly based on the show. Thanks.
The Royal Palace
Magal, Eraklyon
When I was little, war made me laugh.
My most vivid early-childhood memory is my nanny Gemma holding me on her hip, standing on a balcony of the palace. I feel really safe because her arms are tight around me. I'm maybe five, no older than seven. My older sisters are leaning out into the air, their arms dangling over the edge of the marble bannister, giggling and talking. It's a hot summer night, and every so often the entire sky will light up with a flash, like lightning, but with a huge crack. And it makes me laugh, seeing the whole grounds of the palace lit up for a moment with white light, feeling the little earthquakes that come with every blast.
I ask Gemma where my parents are, and she replies with an outstretched arm, pointing towards the far, faraway lights. "Your parents are in the mountains, baby. They're fighting to keep you girls safe."
"Mommy and Daddy are so strong," Anastasia tells me expertly. "Did you know Mommy is the most powerful fairy in the whole universe?"
And at that moment, I was really enjoying myself, watching the illuminations in the sky, staying up past my bedtime, laughing with my sisters. I thought it was beautiful. I wanted to stay in that moment forever.
That's my last memory before things started to go wrong.
When I was shaken awake in the dark, my first thought was, the rebels have gotten into the palace, and we are going to die.
But it wasn't that nightmare of my childhood. It was my sister, Anastasia, a worse kind of nightmare. "Stepha!" She was yelling. "Why aren't you up yet? Stepha? It's nine already!" She kept shaking me even after I groaned to indicate my consciousness, and I swatted her away.
"I'm getting up, I'm up." I stayed still, hoping she'd just go away. "Great Dragon, I thought it was an emergency."
She was pacing, I saw out of the corner of my eye, throwing open the curtains, sticking her head in my closet. "It is an emergency! Get dressed! The Lord Minister is coming in an hour and he just called!"
"At nine in the morning?" I surrendered and got out of bed, shivering in my pajamas and the cold air. This castle was always cold because of how much it cost to heat.
"You know him; he's always trying to catch us unawares," grumbled my sister, throwing a dress out of my closet.
"What does he want?"
Two shoes flew by, narrowly missing my head. Anastasia's voice was muffled, still searching for something. "Who knows? It's always something and it never means anything. A ribbon cutting, a new museum, greeting some stupid prince."
There wasn't much to say to that so I turned my attention to her invasion of my privacy. "Can you get out of my closet?"
"Where are your black patterned tights?" Anastasia said, mostly to herself, ignoring my request. I didn't reply and reluctantly pulled the dress over my head.
Anastasia was my oldest sister and our parents' favorite. She was also a control freak who was obsessed with making our parents happy, and she didn't like me because I didn't always do everything she said. But she was also the only one keeping the royal family of Eraklyon somewhat afloat, so where the lord minister was concerned it was best not to argue. I swatted her out of my closet instead. "I'll find them, calm down."
She glared at me. "We can't look like idiots in front of him. He already thinks we're a joke."
"We are a joke," I replied. "We're princesses who live in a castle with a leaky roof."
The door to my room opened and we both turned around to see Gemma standing there. She had watched and helped each of us grow up, and stayed on as the housekeeper even though almost all the other servants had left or been let go. Whatever we were paying her, it wasn't enough—partially because of the craziness she had to endure, and partially because we were very, very poor. "Princess Anastasia, Princess Stepha—the prime minister is here."
Anastasia scrambled up, forgetting the tights. "Come on, come on!"
We followed Gemma down the stairs. To get to the foyer we had to pass through the ballroom, which was dark and dusty, with sheets draped over all the furniture, including the imperial thrones. "Where's Micheal?" Anastasia hissed as we stumbled into the receiving room next to the foyer. She refused to answer the door herself, said it was unbecoming of a princess.
Unfortunately, we had exactly three servants left: Gemma, a cook, and Micheal, a teenage servant whose job changed daily depending on what we needed him for—craft driver, errand-boy, messenger, and on days like today, butler. However...
"You gave him the day off last week," I replied, rising from the sofa we had just sat down on. "I'll get the door—"
Anastasia yanked me down by the sleeve. "You'll do no such thing! Gemma—"
Gemma nodded, though I detected a bit of sarcasm in her 'yes, your Highness,'. I knew she loved Anastasia, but she was the only one other than me who didn't take her seriously all the time. It was hard to. She was so uptight about everything. Everything had to be perfect. Everything was always a disaster with her. Her childhood nickname was Nasta. I liked to refer to her as Nasty in my head.
"Don't say anything, Stepha," Anastasia snapped at me as the footsteps of the prime minister approached. "I'll talk. You just smile. When appropriate."
"I really don't care—" I was saying when the door opened and Gemma lead in the minister. Being princesses we didn't stand, but he had to bow. There was something nearly mocking about it, I thought. Of course, I thought that about everything the prime minister did because just the fact that he existed was mocking us. He knew we were a joke. He had seized power from my father for just that reason. Now we were only royal in name, and it was all his fault. It wasn't like I was a big fan of my dad, but I hated the prime minister.
If my family had stayed royal, maybe we would've stayed happy. If my family had started out normal, maybe we would have stayed happy. The minister's sudden tearing of the crown away from my father was what really did us in, and my parents never recovered. I don't think any of us really did.
"Princess Anastasia," Lord Minister greeted her first, always, and bowed, but not as low as was respectful. He was the same age as my father but didn't look quite as old, maybe because the last decade hadn't been as hard on him. "I hope you're doing well. I'm sorry I haven't been in contact with the castle recently."
She smiled brightly, demurely. Anastasia's public self and her private self were one and the same. She thought everyone should be a perfect princess all the time.
I was the forgotten princess, even when I was being stared at. He simply nodded his head a little to me. "Princess Stephania, how are you this morning?"
"Fine, LOrd Minister," I heard myself say.
"Excellent," he replies briskly, clapping his hands together. "Now, shall we talk in the sitting room?"
"Of course, Lord Minister," Anastasia said charmingly. "I'm having tea prepared."
Sure enough, there was tea when we walked into the sunroom. Gemma was really fast. I realized I hadn't had breakfast yet and planned to stuff a biscuit in my mouth as soon as politely possible.
"Please, Princess," he said with a polite smile, "how many times have I asked you to omit the titles? They make me feel very old."
Anastasia didn't look up from carefully pouring tea, but her voice wavered slightly.
"Of course, Lord Brandon."
I let myself zone out. Anastasia, the bitchy glue holding our family together, was the only one who really needed to be here. I was just for show, to show that there were two sane members of the royal family. But two out of five is a sucky record, especially for the family who are allegedly running the planet. And Anastasia's just privately crazy instead of publicly. Maybe Lord Brandon was right to take the crown from my dad. But I still hated that man.
He always told us to tell him if we need anything. What a joke. He had never given us anything, and had taken plenty.
I tried not to sigh when I felt his attentions turn to me.
"I hope your Highnesses' summer has gone well."
It hadn't. Nothing goes well here. I had no friends at my tiny school for nobles near the castle, and all the nobles hate the monarchy nowadays. I had no money, so I couldn't go anywhere. So without school to distract me, I spent my days like I usually did, hiding from everyone in deserted or boarded up parts of the castle. When I wanted to get really crazy, I visited my sister Emily and had a roundabout conversation more circular (and pointless) than the second sun of Solaria.
"It's been wonderful," Anastasia said. "Thank you for asking."
"Princess Stephania, you're fifteen, correct? Starting college?"
Why did we need so much smalltalk? And why did it all have to involve me?
Anastasia spoke over me. "Princess Stephania is going to follow me to Magal Fairy College. It's so close we can walk there every morning." Even though she smiled, I know she hated the school, and she hated even more having to walk there herself. It was fine. We didn't look like princesses, so no one paid much attention to us anyway.
"Really? Not Alfea?" Lord Brandon looked surprised. "With three daughters, I always thought one of you would want to follow in your mother's footsteps and go there."
We both cringed and smiled, and I didn't say, like I wanted to, it took you four months to get a check back to us for Anastasia's college books last year, and every time she writes you, petitioning to have our allowance raised for her educational expenses, you send back a very polite letter that says no. How could we afford Alfea? We can't even afford boarding costs at Magal.
And the truth is, I do want to go to Alfea, kind of. 'Go' being the operative word, not 'Alfea'. I want to get as far away from my family as possible and start over—and the best school in the world seems like a good way to do it. And I could do it, I think. As a descendant of my mom, I have the Dragon Fire, even though I'm not really that good at magic.
But whatever. It's out of the question no matter what.
"We're staying close to home," Anastasia said with a tight, forced smile. "It's better for our parents that way."
"Well, no matter what you choose you would be in great company. Magal is a great school, right in the capitol, and Alfea? Just ask the Queen. It's a top-notch education."
I smiled and nodded and prayed to the Great Dragon. Make him talk to Anastasia again please please please.
The Great Dragon granted my prayer and he turned to Anastasia.
"Um." Lord Brandon said, his easygoing expression slipping for the first time since he had come in. "How are Sky and Bloom?"
"'Their Majesties' to you, Lord Brandon," Anastasia said with an icy, gnashing smile, and for once I was grateful for how mean she was to everyone. She could be as mean as she wanted to Lord Brandon. "And they're fine." She didn't elaborate, come up with some excuse as to why the two of us were meeting him instead of the king and queen. He already knew all the issues.
I let my eyes wander out the sunroom window as he continued to speak with Anastasia. The sunroom was the brightest room in the house, because it was the only one with windows that faced out from the front of the palace, out onto the front lawns. Our whole house was really dim and dark all the time—because of heating and air costs, and the fact that we only had Gemma for upkeep, we only lived in our bedrooms, the sun room, and the smaller of the two dining rooms. All the other rooms were covered in sheets and a few wings were even boarded up, although you could get past them if you knew your way around the castle like I did.
I almost yelped when I felt a sharp pinch on my thigh but I didn't, and just in time for me to catch Anastasia's words. "Of course, minister! Won't a ball here be lovely, Princess Stephania?"
"Yeah. Yes." I stumbled with my words even though I didn't know what I was agreeing to. Anastasia made most of the decisions around here anyway, since Mom and Dad had too many issues, and hated Lord Brandon too much to interact with him.
"It's to celebrate the one hundredth anniversary of the unification of Eraklyon," Lord Brandon said, "though I'm sure your Highnesses are already aware. It would be excellent if we could have it here, especially because many royals attend these events, and because it would be an display of...civic pride by the government. Cooperation."
He paused for a moment before saying 'civic pride', and I knew what he meant. The people of Eraklyon really liked my parents. It was most of the reason my dad wasn't just fired from being king. I didn't know why they liked them so much. I didn't even like them that much.
"Of course," said Anastasia. "Perhaps you can have someone call me to work out the details."
"Great," Lord Brandon said, standing up. We stood up too, to walk him to the door, and continued towards it. "Great, great. Thanks for being so accommodating, your Highness. Oh—" he turned as though he'd forgotten something. "I can have the jewels sent over a few days before the ball, if that's alright with you. Assuming that your family—"
"Yes. Yes," Anastasia said uncomfortably. "Yes, thank you, Minister. Have a good day."
She broke her own rule and closed the door herself with a slam.
Five seconds passed. I stood behind her, waiting for the inevitable.
And Anastasia screamed in frustration, flinging sparks from her fingers. "Damn that jackass!"
I rolled my eyes. It wasn't like I liked Lord Brandon, but after every visit Anastasia threw the same tantrum, and this one would be even worse because of that jewels comment.
"What kind of royalty has to borrow their jewels?" Anastasia yelled (continued to yell), stalking off down the hallway. It was a long hallway, through, and her voice carried long after she disappeared around a bend. "The smug look on his face when he asks if I want them. If my parents want to wear their crowns to a ball celebrating their rule. But he has to make us ask for everything! The crown princess had to beg for the crown jewels...we have to beg for everything, anything...!"
Gemma, who had waited in the room with us, now followed Anastasia, probably to calm her somehow or make her eat breakfast or something. Reminded of my own hunger, I went to the kitchen.
Our cook was not there, which wasn't surprising. Truthfully, she wasn't very reliable, but we weren't either, so I didn't fault her. But she must have gone shopping in the past few days because we had bread and jam and eggs and cheese, so, like most days, I made myself scrambled eggs and toast and took it to the sun room, which had a television.
I flickered through the channels. News. The war with the rebels was going better recently. Dad's army—Lord Brandon's army, really—had retaken two cities in the last few months. The Grey Army was in retreat, for now. It would get worse again, I thought to myself. It always did.
"Turn that off," snapped Anastasia, walking into the room with an apple. I supposed Gemma had been successful in her attempt to make her eat something.
I turned it off.
"Have you not been wearing mascara this whole morning?" She continued as she sat down. "You look like you just rolled out of bed. I asked for one simple thing, for you to look presentable. You know, I wouldn't ask you if I had anyone else, but Mom and Dad are upstairs and Emily was crying, so...!"
"I got dressed in three minutes," I said, keeping my eyes on the blank tv screen. "In an outfit you picked out."
"The problem isn't the outfit," Anastasia said loudly. "It's you, and it's the way you are. You don't care about anyone but yourself. It's always about what Stepha wants. It always has to be about what you want."
I didn't say anything.
