To be completely honest here, if you look at it closely, this whole thing didn't even start with me.

I mean, sure, maybe I could have minded my tongue... but how on Earth was I supposed to know that Father had chosen today of all days to have a couple of very important, very influential guests over for dinner? How was I supposed to have known that they were French? Or on the second floor? Moreover, to be entirely fair, it isn't exactly my fault either that I didn't see the ripple in the carpet and ended up tripping over it...

The fact that I cried out "putain!" just as I fell... well, that was unfortunate... it's not like I had planned it all!

The King, of course, was not pleased... or amused, or anything of the like. Which is why I find myself in my room now, grounded, apparently.

Yes, you heard that right, I'm grounded. It's boring, all on my lonesome, and I'm not about to sink as low as to squat down and start talking to teddy bears and porcelain dolls. I may be a child in body, but I still have my adult pride in spirit.

So I spend my time lying on the bed, on the floor, outside on the balcony, staring at the ceiling or sky and wondering how long this whole thing will last. Ottavia brings me food during mealtimes but despite my pleading, won't leave the door unlocked after she goes.

So I decide to put my artistic skills to the test... who knows? Maybe I've suddenly become a talented painter in this second life of mine or something? No such luck- my drawing skills are still just as dismal as they were when I was Maria. Two stick figures are drawn on a sheet of paper, and if nothing else, I believe they look quite drunk. Yes, apparently, stick figures can look drunk. Though I suppose the swords I drew in their hands kind of contribute to it- they don't exactly look like swords... they kind of look like bottles. Weirdly-shaped bottles.

Well, I'll never be Picasso- that's a thing I have accepted long ago and made peace with. A thing I do seem to discover though, is that my new favourite colour is red. I don't notice it at first, but as I go on with my artistic endeavours, I realize that more and more- in every drawing I'm making- that colour is present.

It's pretty, I suppose.

It is as I am seriously contemplating taking a new sheet of paper and writing down my entire autobiography and memoirs, that I hear a sound- a banging coming from my closet. I jump, head snapping around so fast I'm surprised I don't get a whiplash, and look to my right.

I hear another bang, this time louder, followed by another consecutive series of bangs. It doesn't sound like wood, I realize, but rather... metal?

"Helena! Get over here!"

...

"Bel?"

"Come on, I'm stuck."

Yes, that definitely sounds like him but...

"Why are you in my closet?"

"I'm not in your closet, dummy! I'm behind it. Push it out of the way!"

I think Bel is forgetting a very important fact here: namely, the fact that I am two years old! There's no way I can move that giant thing...! Still, I raise myself out of my chair and make my way over to the closet. It's a big, Victorian-style piece of furniture, much like everything else in my room is. It's really pretty, but the doors creak whenever I open them. I put my back against it and push.

"Yeah, no... that's not going to work."

"Try harder- it can't be that heavy."

"I'm two years old!"

"Stop being a baby!"

"I technically am!"

Which is how the next thirty minutes are spent until I've finally, finally managed to shove a wardrobe four times my size to the side in order to reveal what looks like a vent. Oh, who knew that was there?

Lowering myself so that I am lying on my belly, I come face to face with a grinning Belphegor. Sure enough, he gives a little wave.

"I didn't know there was a vent here..." I mutter contemplatively. Not that I've ever needed it but, you know, it's always good to know these kind of things. "What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you don't die of boredom?"

"Fair point."

"Yeah, yeah," Bel shakes his head dismissively, passing me something through the gap in the vent. "Get me out of here."

I look down at the object in my hands, blinking when I realize- it's a knife. Now, I've noticed that Belphegor seems to have a certain... affinity to sharp or pointy objects, but that doesn't really put me much at ease.

I set to work, unscrewing the screws that are keeping Bel away from my room. Lightly, I ask-

"Where did you get this?"

"From the kitchen, where else?"

So he's stealing now? That doesn't seem very princely. I tuck the information away into the corner of my brain, resolving to tell Ottavia as soon as I see her- it isn't responsible behaviour, to leave knives and dangerous things in the reach of such small children. Bel is barely seven. The Mum in me is protesting loudly at this serious oversight in parenting... though, if I'm being honest, there's a lot of faulty parenting going on in this castle.

"There you go." I mutter, moving the piece of metal and resting it against the wall. I move back, giving Bel the space he needs in order to pull himself out of the vent. He needs a bath- I promptly decide as soon as he pulls himself up to his full height.

There's dust all over his clothes, face and hair, and well... there are smears of black all over his white dress shirt. He doesn't seem to really mind much, just takes his knife back and pockets it. Curiously, I take the chance to peak into the vent and look at where it leads to.

Apparently, it's connecting my room to somebody else's. I can see a bed- two of them, and white carpet.

"Is that your bedroom?" I ask, turning my head to look back at Bel. Even after two years of living together, I realize that I've never actually seen my brothers' room. I know they share one, and that it is next to mine, but I've never been allowed entrance... or been interested enough to break in myself.

"Yeah... mine and Rasiel's. He's studying at the moment so he won't be back until much later." I nod my head. That's good to know. But Bel isn't interested in talking about that- there's a grin on his face and as he sits down in front of me, I can't help but get the feeling I'm about to be interrogated. "So how did you manage to get yourself grounded, little sister?"

I know Belphegor better than that.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't have all the details already."

"True." Bel snickers. "So what does "putain" mean? I tried to ask Monsieur Émile but he wouldn't tell me."

I try to sound innocent as I answer-

"I don't know. I must have come across it while watching TV."

"Mhmm, I'm sure you did~"

He doesn't press the matter, and for that I am grateful.

It's a relief not to be alone again, and at least Bel seems to realize the puzzles and games I'm being given are far from stimulating enough- says something about how peasants can't understand the minds of royalty. Instead, he sneaks in some of his and Rasiel's things. Puzzles, books, games and the like. He spends that morning teaching me how to play chess. Naturally, he also wins every round.

I can't help but wonder, sometimes, if Belphegor is more than simply a smart kid.


A/N: Hello folks! First of all, I want to thank everybody who has, favourited, followed and reviewed The Princess so far- it gives me great joy to know people enjoy my stories! Second, I know I said I was going to update every day of this month... but real life has decided to come and mess up my plans. I've got a lot of assignments and tests to study for next week, so I don't think I'll be able to write much. Don't worry though- I'm not abandoning this story or anything of the like! I'll be back next week- either Saturday or Sunday- with a brand new chapter!

Anyway, what did you think of this chapter? It was a little shorter than my usual but I figured it was better than nothing. Please leave a review and I'll see you all next week~