Miku kept her thoughts to herself as she walked down the hallway, following the prince the whole time. They weren't talking, each of them clearly thinking about something but not willing to share it with the other party. For her, she was panicking about having an audience with the king.
She was painfully aware of how filthy she must look. She had not missed the incredulous look on Nakajima Gumo's face when he first saw her and the state she was in. She knew that it was highly improper to show herself before the ruler of this land while she was covered in dust and grime, but it seemed to be far too late to take a bath before she met the king. Hopefully the king would be as tolerant of her dirtiness as his adopted son evidently was – she could only pray.
She also wondered what the king could possibly want to say to her, or talk to her about. The prince said that the king wished to chat with the girl who could sway his son's stubborn decisions, but she was utterly unprepared for this. Maybe she should have thought further ahead with her planning, made up some kind of illustrious, elaborate family tree – but honestly she hadn't really believed her plan would work to this extent, so all she had were the faintest sketches of a mysterious past, a hastily weaved tale of loss, poverty, and the fortunate discovery that her aunt, the current Dowager Duchess Hatsune, was alive and willing to care for her. She was sure the king would know she was part of the Hatsune family, given the rumours she was spreading at the ball those three nights, and that the prince himself knew where to find her. But would the king be able to see through her lies?
The prince was walking up the stairs now, towards the floor with the throne room. She was nervous about following him but follow she did – what else could she do? She couldn't possibly just run away, not when she was stuck in the palace like this. However, when they got to the next landing, instead of turning towards the throne room like she expected, the prince turned the other way and walked down the corridor, towards a bend in the passageway that she had not noticed the previous time she was here. She followed him hastily, shooting looks of curiosity towards the other end of the long passageway, where she could see the tall, imposing double doors of the throne room. There were no guards standing outside today...maybe it was because the king wasn't inside, or maybe the guards were only present when there were many visitors within the palace.
"My father only uses the throne room for important visitors, actually. Like other lords and nobles, or visiting royals. Most definitely not for members of the family," the prince caught her looking back at the throne room and rightly guessed why she was looking so confused. "You don't need to worry so much, Cinderella," he continued, "my father simply wants a friendly chat with you. He's not going to carry out any background checks or ask about your history or lineage...at least, not today," his blue eyes glimmered with humour, but even then she wasn't quite sure if he was joking or not.
She didn't reply, instead choosing to just nod her head and swallow, fisting her skirts nervously as she walked. It was rather unladylike, that was true, but she thought that she could be forgiven for her behaviour given her circumstances. The prince turned a corner and still she followed, wondering where they were going – she had not seen this particular area in the palace yet, so it was unfamiliar to her. "You don't need to be nervous," the prince spoke again, glancing across at her. Was the fear on her face really that obvious, such that he would comment on it? "My father is an easy-going man who doesn't abuse his authority. Well, at least most of the time he doesn't," there was a crooked smile on his lips. She allowed herself a small grin as well, but she still wasn't entirely at ease yet.
They turned twice, for the first corridor they turned into was empty and had nothing – just a long passageway, covered in the same lush velvet wallpaper, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps. Her hands and feet were starting to feel cold. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so nervous – it had to be when she was little, when she still had to talk to older noblemen when they came to their mansion to see her father…there was nothing for her to be afraid of when she was doing menial tasks for Anastasia and Lucinda. It was tedious and something far beneath her given her status as aristocracy, she knew that, but at least it was mind-numbing work and she knew her stepsisters well. She did not know this man they were about to meet. She barely even knew his son.
There were a few doors on each wall for this particular corridor. It was quiet here, and there was only her and the prince. Suddenly it seemed like they were in a world of their own, and some little corner of her mind wondered if it was possible to become lost in the palace forever. From the outside, it didn't look that big, but the interior was like a maze meant to trap anyone stupid enough to wander in. Maybe she was one of those stupid tourists the palace had claimed as its own.
"My father is probably in his room, since it's still so early. We aren't expecting any formal guests today so he'll probably be in his room all day…" she thought the prince was about to roll his eyes, but he didn't. Then again that probably would have been a mark of disrespect, especially since the man he was referring to was the monarch himself. "You'd be surprised at how lazy my father is. I sometimes wonder if he regrets taking the throne, actually. Oh, but don't let anyone know I told you that," he added, "that's just something I noticed for myself and it wouldn't be good if anyone else found out about the king's real nature, right?" he smiled. She nodded, not failing to miss the glint in his blue eyes. It promised that she would be in some trouble if she let anything slip. It wasn't like she was going to blab to anyone about the king, anyway. She didn't exactly have any friends to talk to.
"Is it really proper for me to speak with the king though, when I'm in…such a state?" she gestured at herself, indicating her dress and face in all their grimy, dirt-covered glory. She was very sure she saw his lips tilt up, very quickly, in the briefest of smiles, but before she could even blink the smile was gone and he was back to looking solemn. He paused, making her stop walking instinctively as well, and regarded her from head to toe. She could feel herself shrinking slightly at his appraisal, but she forced herself to stand straight and hold her chin up. She could not forget that she, too, was a noble and had all right to stand before the prince now, even if she was covered in filth. Normally she wouldn't even have such qualms, but wearing her servant's garb made her feel very self-conscious.
It was surprising that he had not noticed she was wearing the rags of a maid, but maybe he didn't see it because of how dirty she and her outfit were. After all, her clothes were a shabby, patchy dark grey and the cellar was so filthy that her dress now looked black. Hopefully he wouldn't start paying attention to her outfit, because that would no doubt raise even more questions about her true identity and, at the moment, she was feeling too overwhelmed by the success of her plan and her impending meeting with the king to field any difficult questions the prince shot her way. She would be able to think on her feet once her meeting was concluded, but until then her heart was in her throat and she just wanted all this to be over and done with. Maybe after this she would be able to take a nice warm bath, and wash the grime away from her body. Her skin was already beginning to itch.
"Of course it's not proper," he finally answered, "but my father said he wanted to meet you as soon as you are in the palace, and I admit that neither my father nor I expected you to be in…such a state when you got here. He will not be offended, as I said earlier my father is a very easy-going man, but if you are truly concerned then I can explain to him the circumstances under which I found you…only if you want this, of course," he held her gaze curiously. She admitted to herself that it would be nice, to have the king know that her uncleanliness was not out of disregard for him, but that would also mean there was yet another person she had to deceive about her past, and right at this very moment she couldn't think of any excuse as to why she, as a noble lady, was locked in a cellar. So she shook her head and they went on their way, her fingertips starting to feel icy cold.
The prince brought her to one of the two doors that lined the right wall of the passageway. With a gentle knock, he pushed the door open and she slowly walked in, keeping her gaze lowered. She could see, some distance away from her, a pair of dark embroidered mules set with small red gems, probably rubies. She swallowed, keeping her head down, and it was only when she heard a deep voice asking her to rise did she dare to lift her gaze. The king was standing right before her, with his trademark long, purple flowy locks and deep sapphire eyes. Her first thought was that he seemed almost sad, but she caught herself. What could the king possibly have to be sad about?
"So you are the girl who caught my son's fancy," his gaze flitted across her face, taking in each feature. She resisted the urge to fidget, suddenly hyperaware of the prince's presence behind her, watching her and his father with keen intent. "I always thought that, if there was one person my son would marry from the ball, it would be you, the girl he actually bothered to spend any time with all three nights. And what did you call yourself again?" the king paused, as though he was struggling to remember, and suddenly his face lit up. "Oh, yes – Cinderella, wasn't it?" he beamed at her.
She felt a little uncomfortable. Given that she was talking to the king himself now, it didn't feel right to be lying about her name at all. But she reminded herself that she couldn't just let slip her real name while she was in the palace, not when everyone thought she was dead. She would have to think of some way to prove that she was Hatsune Miku, not some imposter, but how? The best she could think of at this point was to describe her old home and the summer cottage she used to spend time in, but any noble who visited the Hatsune family often could do the same thing. Besides, the summer cottage was still a very sensitive issue for her. Her father had died there, and supposedly she had as well. "Yes, Cinderella," she smiled back, though it probably looked more like a grimace.
"You must be a charming young woman!" the king's gaze lingered on her curiously, but she didn't allow her smile to slip. She had little doubt that the king thought the same things about her as his adopted son did. They were the prince and king of the country, after all. They probably shared all sorts of information with each other, and she was still convinced that the prince had proposed to her with some kind of hidden agenda. "I do look forward to spending more time with you. Ah, but you mentioned that Cinderella is a nickname your aunt bestowed upon you, isn't it? Is there any other name that we could use instead? It is very strange to not know your real name, to tell the truth."
She knew that question was coming. She knew the very moment the prince had asked her for her real name. She glanced back at the prince, wondering what he was doing and how he would react to the question his father posed – the blond haired boy was leaning casually against the wall next to the door, his arms folded across his chest. His features were impassive, and when he met her gaze, he tilted his head slightly, probably curious about what she would tell the king. She felt terrible for this was treason, and if she was exposed for a liar she would no doubt be punished, but she knew it would be better for her to keep her identity secret. Until she knew what their intentions were…
"My name is Cinderella," she said firmly, lowering her gaze once more in a show of respect, though in truth it was so she could avoid looking at the king. His deep blue eyes were piercing, even more so than his son's – if she lied while looking him in the eye, she felt like he would be able to tell. "It is a custom in my country to not reveal one's true name until they are properly acquainted with the other party. Unfortunately, I do not feel comfortable about telling you my true birth name for now, but I'm certain the time will come," she glanced back at the prince once more. He was staring right at her, face still unreadable as ever, and she suddenly recalled him saying that he wouldn't be staying around during her audience with the king. If that was the case, then why was he still here?
The king let out an audible sigh. "I understand, and I would not wish to make you feel unwelcome. We will refer to you as Cinderella then, at least until you decide the time is apt for you to tell us your name," he reached out, his hand patting her gently on the shoulder. She was a little startled, not knowing how to react since the most important person in the land had just touched her, but she managed to hold herself still and not say or do anything embarrassing. "I don't really have anything else to say, I suppose you will tell us more interesting stories about yourself as time goes on in the palace. I do look forward to learning more about you, Cinderella," his smile was infectious, and she caught her own lips curving up into a smile as she curtsied and backed away, towards the door.
The prince caught her by the arm, and she turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. Before she could say anything though, he dragged her out of the room into the outside corridor, not letting go of her until the door was closed behind them. Irritably, she shook herself free – she didn't appreciate being pulled around like that, even if he was royalty and her soon-to-be husband. The very idea made her shudder. Marriage was nothing but a lock and chain – a married noblewoman could only stay at home and look beautiful, or go to functions with her husband and hang on to his every word, tittering politely and showering him with attention. She refused to do any of those things.
"I thought you were leaving after you showed me to the king's room. And that was a remarkably short audience – I expected it to be longer," it felt a little anticlimactic, to tell the truth. She had been panicking about having a conversation with the king, but it had only lasted for less than five minutes, most probably. The prince shot her a droll look, his pretty eyes such an intense shade of blue that for a moment, she couldn't really remember how to speak. Then she shook herself out of it. People said that eyes were the windows to the soul, but when he looked at her she felt like he was the one opening a window to her soul. How could anyone have a gaze so impossibly piercing?
"My father is a busy man. Surely you don't expect him to pander to your whims all day," the smile on his face was the only thing that prevented him from sounding harsh. "As for leaving…that was my intention at first, but then I thought it might be interesting to hear what you had to say to my father. I didn't think you would dare to lie to the king of this land. But now I wonder why I even thought that," he shook his head slowly. "I mean, I'm the prince and royalty of this country as well, but you clearly don't have any qualms about hiding your name from me, do you?" a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but he didn't seem particularly cheerful. She felt like he was accusing her of something actually, and it wasn't a very nice feeling. She tried hard not to sound defensive.
"As I said, it is a custom in my home country," she said hotly, tilting her head upwards so she could look directly into his eyes. He didn't back down, staring back with the same intensity she was slowly started to get used to. "I would tell you but I honestly do not feel comfortable with just letting people know my name, not when they barely know me at all. It doesn't matter even if you're the prince or the king," they just looked at each other since he didn't say anything in response to her, and for the longest time she wondered if they were just going to stand here and stare at each other until lunch time. He was relentless, and neither one of them were willing to budge. He looked as though he was searching for something, but he wouldn't find that thing in the depths of her eyes.
Suddenly, he shrugged. "Very well, if you insist," he turned away, walking down the corridor once more. Glad at her victory, though slightly confused as to why he was the one to look away first – she thought it would have been her, she had been very close to giving in and lowering her gaze – she followed him, hoping that he wasn't going back to his room. She had no intention of going there just to spend more time in his company. She was uncomfortable with not just his questions regarding her identity, but also with the fact she had to share a bed with him. It hadn't really quite hit her that she was engaged to the prince, and thus had to start behaving more…intimately. After all, she barely knew him! How was she supposed to just share a bed with him, as if she had known him all her life?
Len felt, for once, very uncertain about himself. He knew he had promised his father that he would get to the bottom of this, but he was starting to wonder if he had bitten off more than he could chew. Besides the fact that Cinderella was as stubborn and obstinate as a pit bull, she was also a noticeably beautiful, dainty girl with eyes like green fire and lips like spun sugar. All these different things combined to form an intoxicating distraction, and he couldn't hold her gaze for long without wondering about her lips and her voice, and whether she would taste sweet when he finally kissed her. He was going to have to kiss her one of these days; she was his fiancée, after all. He wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't exactly want to kiss another girl, since he still grieved over his dead fiancée. Kissing another girl, marrying someone else, was like a slap across his beloved's face.
It was thus reluctantly that he admitted he was rather mesmerised by this Cinderella, and all this was with her being covered in filth. He dreaded to think about the effect she might have on him when she was clean and fragrant. He told her that he stayed because he was curious about what she would tell his father – that was true, but it was more than that. He just wanted to spend more time in the presence of his new bride, and understand what he had gotten himself into. She was attractive on a physical level, and of course he had an eye for beauty like hers, but he couldn't love her, not when his heart still belonged to another. He didn't want her to be miserable because of that, because he knew their marriage would just be a sham. She was clearly miserable enough while in the Hatsune manor, so he was being particularly careful and considerate of her feelings right now.
Len was normally not very kind, nor was he exceptionally caring. He was about as self-centred as the next person, and didn't think much of others unless they happened to be immediately connected to him in some way, like his adopted father or his personal butler. It was strange that he would care at all about this girl, who was just a charming stranger with a murky past he had met at the ball, but something about Dowager Duchess Hatsune's plea just…stuck with him. It was probably at that very moment, when the older woman pleaded with him to marry the girl and take her away, that he decided that he would ensure this stranger didn't have to suffer any longer. There was just something so heartfelt in the Duchess's eyes, eyes which were so green just like Cinderella's…he couldn't bring himself to not care at all about her welfare. So right at this moment, his thoughts were in turmoil.
He didn't know where he was going, actually. He was just heading away from this floor, but it suddenly occurred to him that he didn't want to go back to his room yet and there was still this girl following him. No, not just a girl – his fiancée now, he had to remind himself. He might not have any real romantic feelings for her but he couldn't just forget she was his betrothed. Besides, it was good to have someone to marry…now maybe aristocratic girls would stop crowding around him whenever he made a public appearance. All the female attention he received was one major reason why he rarely stepped outside of the palace grounds, preferring the safety of the tall, imposing walls. Besides, she didn't actually like him, did she? She hadn't wanted to move into the palace when he proposed the idea during the ball, though of course there might be other reasons why she rejected him. But he was sure she did not hanker after him, so maybe marrying her wouldn't be so bad.
Cinderella disliked horses, he knew, so he couldn't just go to the stables, which were his favourite place to go to when he had nothing to do and just wanted to think about things. Unlike his surprise fiancée, he was particularly fond of horses. Maybe this indicated that the two of them would have a hard time getting along…or maybe he was overthinking things, like he had a tendency to do. He glanced back at her, and saw that she was still looking around, taking in the interior of the palace as she walked behind him. "What do you want to see?" he finally asked – better than her just following him as he wandered around aimlessly. He saw her raise an eyebrow at his question.
"A bath would be nice," she responded, sweeping her arm to indicate her present condition, the tone of her voice almost snarky. He nodded, letting her sarcasm pass for now, and decided to bring her to one of the guest rooms to bathe – he didn't have any fresh towels in his bathing chamber and he was sure that she wasn't comfortable enough with him to share his used ones. Luckily there were a few on the floor right below, so he quickly brought her to the first guest room he saw and ushered her inside. She drifted over to the bathing chamber, sticking her head in and withdrawing just as quickly. "There is no soap inside, nor are there any towels," she announced, sounding mildly surprised. He didn't blame her for being startled since even in a nobleman's house, every guest room was always ready for inhabitation, much less the king's royal palace. He let out a sigh.
It must be an oversight on a servant's part. The palace was big, so it was understandable, but it meant now he had to look for one of the servants and ask them to bring soap and towels up to the guest room. He couldn't possibly make Cinderella herself look for someone, she barely knew the palace. "Just go inside and wait," he told her, ducking out of the room. "Someone will be up here in a while to prepare the chamber for you. After you're done, I'm sure you can find your way to my room, so I do hope you were paying attention while we were walking up here," he grinned, quickly shutting the door before she could move towards him or protest in any other manner. It would be a little entertaining to see her wandering around the palace actually – nothing bad would happen to her, and he would save her from her misery before long. It would be some harmless petty revenge for refusing to tell him her name, for he couldn't at all bring himself to believe her explanation.
But he couldn't be that immature, he was the prince and she was his future bride. Plus doing all this might make her withdraw even more into that shell of secrecy she wrapped around herself, and that would just make his task harder. So he let the idea rest, deciding that he would just come back up with the servant who brought what she needed and wait in the guest room until she was done. Not that she knew he was joking about making her find her way back herself – he hoped that she was at least a little nervous about the aftermath of her bath. Though maybe she actually did memorise the route they had taken and she would surprise him on the way back. He was a little curious about her capabilities, and this would be a little test of sorts. How much could Cinderella remember?
Miku sat down in the tub, still fully clothed. She found herself staring at the marble wall opposite her, tracing the little grey swirls in the white all the way to the edge of the room – then her gaze would find another streak of greyish-black and she would be tracing the pattern all over again. She just didn't know what else she could do, and she was terribly bored. Reaching out, she ran her fingers against the edge of the bathtub, feeling the white ceramic smooth and cold against her skin. It was the first time she had seen a ceramic tub, actually. The ones in the bath chambers back in the mansion were all wooden, since only the royal family was rich enough to afford such luxuries. She bet their servants were willing to stand in the room and pass them hot water as well, but she wasn't expecting that much from her bath. Cold water would do, she was perfectly used to it, plus it was just so much more convenient since she wouldn't have to wait for the water to heat up outside.
She remembered having to lug pail after pail of hot water up to Lucinda's bath chamber in the past whenever she decided she wanted to clean herself. It was difficult labour, since she had to climb up the stairs lugging a small leaky, wooden pail and the water was usually extremely hot, so she would scald herself if she wasn't careful. Was every bath chamber in the palace as luxurious as this one? The royal family was much richer than she thought – she knew they were wealthy, since they were the rulers of the country after all, but she hadn't thought they would be this wealthy, since from what she understood the civil war in the past had depleted quite a few resources. She wasn't interested enough to keep thinking about her old history lessons, so she let her thoughts wander.
The room was all cold hard edges and smooth lines. There was the tub, a low and shallow sort of bowl propped up on four legs, reminding her of a table. She wondered how servants cleared out the dirty water – with the wooden tub she just had to tip it over, since wood wasn't that heavy. She was quite sure it wasn't the same for this, it seemed a lot heavier. Maybe they scooped the water out or they just carefully tilted the tub and let the water flow out – she could see a small hole hidden discreetly in the corner of the room and guessed that was for the drainage system. Again, the royal family was probably one of the only few families with access to plumbing, along with some of the wealthier aristocrats. Her family home had plumbing, but that was in Cante. No one lived there now.
There was a vanity table near the door, made of marble just like the walls of the room. There was a mirror there, a long oval with polished glass and she wondered if the surface would steam up when someone bathed in hot water here. She had seen her reflection in the misty surface of a mirror before, and she remembered thinking that it looked so surreal, like she was there and at the same time, not quite there…she looked like a distorted version of herself, and she remembered thinking that it didn't seem real. She wasn't real, the mirror wasn't real, her situation wasn't real, and she was just floating, floating in a misty room where warm steam caressed her face and dropped her into a world of her own. And then she heard Lucinda yelling at her about draining her bathtub.
When would the prince be coming back? She really wanted to take a shower. After bathing for the ball for three nights, it felt a little strange to be dirty again. Those three nights at the ball, although she had only participated to further her agenda and escape from her prison, had made her feel as though she was part of society again. She was no longer the overthrown aristocrat who served the usurpers, she was a noble lady in her own right and she could command power and attention. It was nice to not have to be the maid for once. It was equally nice to see her stepsisters getting frustrated about the mysterious girl who captured the prince's attention and know it was her – that she, the stepsister they sneered at, could actually achieve so much and become unrecognisable in their eyes.
She heard a knock on the door, coming from outside the bedroom. Hastily she clambered up from the tub, secretly thankful that her servant attire was thin and stretchable, allowing her to move quickly – if she had been dressed in one of her ballroom dresses she had no doubt that it would take a while for her to get up at all. She brushed herself down and stood at attention just as someone came in, carrying a fluffy white towel, a nightdress and a bar of soap in a small pail. This person, who had green hair and whom Miku quickly recognised to be the servant girl she spoke to on the first night of the ball, smiled a little at the sight of her and bowed quickly. The girl was followed by the prince, who followed her a little way into the room and stopped the moment he noticed her.
Come to think of it, this servant girl looked a lot like the prince's personal butler. They were probably related. "This is Nakajima Gumi, Gumo's twin sister. She's the older one," the prince introduced. Miku smiled at her, and the girl did the same – she had a very bright smile, and Miku got the feeling she would like her – before she hurried into the bathing chamber, clearly helping Miku to get ready. Miku wanted to go in and do everything herself, since she was used to that and she was actually still a little uncomfortable about being served by others since she had been a maid for so many years. But she felt the prince's fingers latch around her upper arm and she stopped, twisting to stare at him. He looked right back at her with his blue eyes slightly narrowed, almost as if he was suspicious.
"After your bath, tell me why you were locked in the cellar," was all he finally said. She nodded – she knew she would eventually have to explain what she was doing there anyway. At least now she had the duration of her bath to think of an answer. He let go, and with that she walked into the bathing chamber. She hoped that he wouldn't be waiting for her when she came back out – she would rather find her own way around the palace than have to field questions when she still wasn't truly ready.