Each person has four lives
One that sows
One that waters
One that reaps
And one that consumes
If so, which am I?
Anna had served the Vongola famiglia for 12 years.
Throughout her career, she had inevitably seen the deadly, and dark side of the mafia. In turn, she came to understand that in order to survive as a servant, you had to be smart. Standing out is the worst thing you can do, and displaying unnecessary emotions could often lead to an early demise.
Empathetic fools with loud opinions were always the first to go.
She witnessed death for the first time at age 19, after only a week of employment.
A man had foolishly attempted to invade the Vongola mansion through the servant's quarters. He was shot dead upon sight, a bullet piercingly cleanly through his skull.
It was a quick, but messy death.
She learned that day how much the human head can bleed.
The stains left on the carpet were quickly washed out, but the memory and fear of the incident still lingered in her head till this day. After that horrid wakeup call, Anna vowed to do her duty as a servant quietly, and precisely. Silence was golden, a single wrong question could lead to her blood painting the beige walls of the manor.
That was before she was handed a small baby bundled in cloth from the next head of Vongola in line, the flippant words of "Take care of it." tossed her way.
She'd like to think that she handled it with the grace of a seasoned veteran.
As the newly appointed nanny, she made sure the infant was nurtured properly and cared for. Ignoring how the baby's blue eyes were following her every move. Her duty ended there. She had no business of knowing why the baby was under her care, or who exactly she was taking care of.
But you see, the servants loved to gossip, and rumors have the nasty tendency of spreading. It was inevitable that they would reach her ears eventually.
"I heard that she's the daughter of that Rosé family's youngest."
"The one he met at the annual ball?"
"Yes! Lady Vienna must be furious with him."
"Does she know she exists?"
"Why else do you think she's kept hidden at the servant wing of the manor?"
"Oh, that poor thing. She's never even going to get a chance to be a successor!"
"You never know, this is the mafia after all."
"Don't be ridiculous, there's already Massimo and Federico next in line, and even if all else fails, there's still him left."
"My goodness, that savage child will never be fit for the throne! He's far too uncul-"
"I suggest you both get back to work." Anna cut in with scorn. The two servants paled, and immediately scurried off. She glared at their retreating figures with a scowl.
Honestly, it seems like there were far too many, who didn't understand the consequences of blabbering their mouth. It's such a useless sentiment to worry about others, when you should be busy enough trying to keep your own head attached to your neck.
Anna sighed grimly and rubbed her temple, feeling an incoming headache.
A happy gurgle made her pause.
'Empathy is useless in the mafia.'
Her attention shifted to the bundle in her arms.
'Attachment is only for fools.'
That may be so, but as she looked down at the curious blue eyes of the small infant, she couldn't help but let her eyes soften, feeling a twinge of pity in her heart.
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Asta was a bright child.
At age 2, she babbled out words in coherent sentences. She picked up reading skills as easily as she would learn to crawl. While her peers were busy drooling and taking naps, she sat reading novels the size of textbooks and learned 4 different languages by the age of 3.
A prodigy, they whispered.
Tutors and servants alike, all sung praises of how smart the child was. It was amazing how quickly she grasped difficult concepts and equations with unnatural ease. One of them even points out that it's almost as if she had learned all these subjects before in advance. A silly notion, for sure. Where would a 3 year old learn how to speak perfect English in Italy?
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Though it was certainly nice to be fawned over with compliments and praises, such sentiments were of no value to Asta. Her only concern right now, is to bring this stack of papers clutched in her hands to the figure sitting near the fireplace. Short, little legs ran down the hall with haste as she passed by servants, ignoring the friendly waves and calls of her name.
"Anna! Anna, look!" The figure, Anna, turned her head towards the excited voice.
A small stacks of papers were thrusted out, displaying red 100%'s out proudly for the middle-aged woman to see.
Anna calmly set the handkerchief she was embroidering down, and gingerly took the papers from the child's hands. A small smile grew on her face as she slipped through each paper with identical grades.
"You did well, my lady." Anna praised, gently petting her head. "Perhaps, we can ask your father to send another tutor to teach a new subject."
Asta beamed happily-not from the praise, but from the proud smile on her nanny's face.
She knew that it always made Anna happy when she brought back papers her tutors graded, each completed with perfect scores. That was more than enough motivation for her to excel in her studies.
Asta would do anything to make Anna proud.
The graded papers were put away in a drawer with the rest of her previous worksheets.
Anna gently picked Asta up. "We can discuss what new subject you'd like to learn tomorrow, as it is getting late." She suggested, as she made her way to the bedrooms.
Asta shyly tugged her nanny's shirt. "Bedtime story?" She asked with a hopeful voice.
"Not tonight, Princess. Perhaps tomorrow."
Asta pouted, before nodding in resignation as she was gently tucked into bed. "Goodnight Anna." she mumbled.
Anna smiled fondly, before giving her a kiss goodnight and made her way out the door.
Asta raised the blanket up to her nose, staring at her nanny's retreating form. Her soft steps echoed in the quiet halls as she presumably made her way towards the office room.
No doubt to call her Papà to give in the daily report.
Though Asta was not much of a rule breaker, curiosity got the best of her. One day, she snuck out of bed to listen in on the call once, wondering what her nanny was doing. It wasn't a particularly interesting conversation. Clearly whoever was on the other line didn't seem to care much about the topic at hand, because Anna did most of the talking by herself.
It was rather boring, listening in on her own progress in growth and education, but hearing the pride in Anna's voice as she spoke about how the principessa was excelling in all her studies, made her heart do silly little flips.
That night, she quietly snuck back onto her bed with a small smile and warm cheeks.
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Anna wasn't her mama, but she was the closest Asta will ever get.
She cared for her, and scolded her whenever she did something wrong. On her birthdays, Anna would bake the best chocolate cake ever and let her eat the whole thing all by herself. She never had to share, because Anna didn't like sweets, and her papà never bothered to show up.
Best of all, Anna would envelope her in the warmest hugs, always smiling at her in the way that made her feel so loved.
Yes, Anna wasn't her mama - not by blood - but she is undoubtedly, Asta's most precious person.
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There were days when Anna would call Asta by her name, rather than the usual "my lady" or "Principessa".
But she never responded to her call no matter how many times her name was repeated. When asked why, Anna was met with an adorable pout, and the quiet grumble of "That's not my name..."
Figuring that she was playing pretend, Anna decided to indulge her, and questioned "What is your name then?"
Asta's hand halted abruptly. The block she was using to build dropping from her hand, and onto the castle, causing the tall creation to come tumbling down.
Anna quickly rushed over, and fussed about the mess she made, picking up the building blocks one by one.
Due to the distraction, she never got the chance to see Asta's pout turn into a small frown, as blue eyes darkened in concentration, brows furrowing. If she hadn't been so caught up with cleaning, she wouldn't have missed the quiet, almost lost whisper that came out of the child's mouth.
"I...-I don't know."
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Her Papà is the next in line to the throne of a very large company, and was very busy. So he didn't visit much, but Asta didn't mind. She's never really had a proper father figure ever, anyways, so it never bothered her.
The name Vongola, however, rung bells in her mind. It's the name of the company her father was so eager to take over.
The fog clouding her mind shifted ever so slightly every time the name was mentioned. But no matter how hard she tried to remember, she was always left frustrated. The mist stayed firmly in place in her mind without budging. Tired from the lack of fruition to reward her hard efforts, Asta soon gave up, instead choosing to run to Anna, asking for her hair to be braided .
She let out a pleased smile as Anna's fingers brushed through her long, curly blonde hair, her distress soon forgotten.
Yes, despite the largely missing chunks of her memories from her past, Asta was perfectly satisfied with her life.
She had a roof above her head, food to eat, and Anna next to her side with warm hugs and smiles. Even Enrico, who rarely visited, but still brought small gifts to compensate for his absence, held a part in making her sheltered, peaceful life complete. After all, what more can a 3 year old wish for?
Oh, what a fool she is.