Luce realizes young too even her self isn't meant to be hers either.
It takes her by surprise, because that isn't something she knew to expect. Or had been let on as something she should expect.
Mother received her guest in the sitting room instead of her office. There's drinks and snacks on the low table, and they laugh and joke throughout the conversation. The atmosphere is lighthearted, friendly and even close.
Luce still stands behind Mother, carefully paying attention, watching and listening so she can learn.
The atmosphere is not warm, down to the extent Don Rocco allows himself to fidget to appear comfortable while still showing the respect Mother's due. It is not genuine either, down to the way he chooses to laugh at the jokes exchanged only after Mother's done so first.
It is no less an official meeting requested by the Don of a family under the Giglio Nero's control.
There's no such thing as a friendly meeting with your Capo one-on-one without ulterior motives anyway, as you'd be a fool to waste such rare and valuable time that way. So Luce stands behind Mother, paying attention, learning how to put on the pretense of friendliness while still being the one to get your way.
The Rocco family's been a branch family of the Giglio Nero for many generations now. It has served them well and loyally for just as long, and Don Rocco has faithfully kept that legacy going ever since he succeeded the family's throne.
His family's also a powerful and influential one in its own right even when disregarding its ties to the Giglio Nero. At the very least, they've enough of a standing Don Rocco's well within his right and place to bring up his son, with the confidence Mother cannot easily dismiss his opinions or wishes.
"He's about the Princess' age, just a little younger," he says. "I believe they'd get along well and would be able to build a long-lasting friendship. It would bring our respective families closer too. What do you say, Settima?"
Mother chuckles. "You've always spoken warmly and highly of your son, but I've yet had the chance to meet him. Perhaps now would be the time to do something about it, indeed."
Luce stumbles back a step, but then gathers herself together as best as she can.
Neither Mother nor Don Rocco spares her a glance.
It feels like taking a blow she didn't see coming.
Luce, of course, is old enough for boys to become part of the picture, for it to be a new card in Mother's hands for her to use accordingly and differently as she'll keep growing for the benefit of the family. She's already been warned to be careful of the ways she could appear close to some of the boys at school.
That's okay. Luce isn't really sure all that having a husband involves beyond the romantic books and fairy tales she likes to read, not yet—Mother will teach it to her accordingly as she'll keep being old enough—, but she isn't against it. Quite look forwards to it, even, to love and be loved, and to romance and marriage as long as she'll get to at least have friendship out of it.
But even if she doesn't, it's her duty to keep the family line alive by giving birth to the next heir after her. And Luce, the Giglio Nero's Princess, the Giglio Nero's heir, Mother's daughter, knows better than to avert her eyes from duty.
It's just that... she thought she'd be part of the conversation too? That they'd ask for her opinions too, if not first and foremost, or if only to disregard them anyway.
I am here, she wants to interrupt them as they push and pull their ways around actually committing to a first meeting between Don Rocco's son and her. You're talking about me.
Luce's still too young to really understand all that's at stake for their family when it comes to who'll eventually become her husband, but... she already knows the things she finds cute in boys. The things she finds cute in that way that makes her heart beat faster. She's already had crushes on boys before, even.
She has friends, and she knows the kind of personalities she likes and wants to become close to, or the ones that annoy her to the point she doesn't want to have anything to do with them.
Father passed away too soon for Luce to have any memories of him, but by watching Mother rule the family and shouldering that burden alone for as far as she can remember, she already has ideas of the kind of boy she'd want by her side to share that same burden with. The kind of boy that'd be the most suitable so they can make up for their respective shortcomings.
I am here, she wants to scream as they keep talking about her without giving her a voice in the conversation. I know how to speak, I have opinions of my own.
Of course, Luce has no speaking lines in a conversation between two Capi, the Giglio Nero's heir as she is, not unless they speak to her first. It'd be incredibly rude and disrespectful of her to add herself to the conversation without first being invited to.
Mother will speak to her later, after. She'll tell her all about what Don Rocco will not say about his son right now, all about what she'll need to know about him so their meeting and following relationship, should one happen, can happen in the Giglio Nero's favor.
But later, after, Luce's only speaking line will be, "Yes, Mother, don't worry. I'll try my best."
Later, after, it'd be too late for Mother to have that conversation with her so to know what Luce thinks about it, so she could try to accommodate her opinions as much as possible.
Mother doesn't speak to her.
Doesn't find it necessary, it seems, to even allow her to say, smiling and enthusiastic, "Yes, of course, I look forwards to meeting him. I'm sure we'll become great friends."
Luce's feet stay firmly rooted in the ground where she stands anyway. She doesn't allow herself to stumble again despite how unbalanced she is on her legs, the ground under her feet tilted out of its axis and threatening to make her fall. She ignores the queasy feeling in her stomach and the lump growing in her throat, uncertain and unfamiliar within her own skin as if it's not her own.
She ignores the incessant chant in her mind, the incessant plea of I am here, I am here, I am here, so she can focus on the conversation; tries to silence it as best as she can as it keeps growing louder.
So what if you are?
Luce allows herself one more uneven breath before she composes herself again in a manner befitting of her standing.
It takes her longer than it should.
Lucky then neither Don Rocco nor Mother spare her a glance.
The moonlight filters through the bind of her windows and the drawn curtains, casting shadows on her ceiling. Luce made them up into any and all shapes and forms she could think of long ago, and they're back to only being indistinguishable shadows again. Outside her door, the night guards patrolling the mansion walk past her room for the fourth time now.
Luce should have fallen asleep hours ago. She lies still on her back, looking at her ceiling, unable to fall asleep.
She still stands behind Mother in that meeting with Don Rocco from earlier that day, can't seem to bring herself to turn back and walk out of the room.
I am here, she wanted to tell them so badly then, but it seems silly now, in the confines of her room plunged in the darkness and quiet and stillness of the night.
What does it matter that she was? Why should it?
She's Mother's Daughter, the Giglio Nero's Princess and heir, and only then, she's Luce.
Of course Mother didn't find it necessary to give her a voice in the conversation. The heir as she might be, the Giglio Nero Donna's words are still law and take precedence over anyone else's, even for her. Take precedence over even her own words.
It does make her wonder. What would Luce have grown up to be like if given the freedom to choose?
Stubborn, is the first word that comes to mind, and a little giggle escapes her mouth at the image of Mother's disapproving turn of her lips. It doesn't do her any good as often as Mother would like, but she's hoping she'll learn to be stubborn in wiser ways as she grows up.
Boring, if she's honest with herself, which she doesn't mind. She likes the comfort and warmth of her home, the familiarity and safety of places and people she knows by heart. She doesn't mind going outside or trying new and various activities, enjoys herself when she does, even, but she much prefers when the main activity is enjoying the company she's with.
Oh, she'd make for great company too, wouldn't she? She'd be someone people would like to be around and would seek out to spend time with.
Luce's good with people, and they've always taken easily to her too. She knows her social cues, knows how to recognize them in others, and she's always happy to help them become more at ease so they can enjoy themselves too whenever it's needed.
She wouldn't be very funny, though. The art of making jokes is simply one that escapes her, though she's been told many times she still knows how to be playful, when they're not calling her mischievous.
On the other hand, she's always up for a good laugh and they come really easy to her, genuinely too no matter what other people might think, so it should make up for her inability to come up with the jokes herself.
Would she be pretty too? She hopes so. Does that count, pretty, is it something you grow up to be too?
Well, either way, she wants to be. She'll keep growing her hair so she'll be able to try a lot of beautiful hairstyles and—oh, she wants to be tall too! But not too tall, so she can still wear heels without making everyone look up at her—
Luce giggles again, louder, and she slaps her hand against her mouth while glancing at the door. It stays silent on the other side, and she lowers her hand, letting the last of her laughter out silently.
Wouldn't that be funny, though, if she were to tower over everyone else like that? She'd probably like that too, so it'd be fine even if she grows up to be really tall.
Luce would still also be… less kind than people tend to assume her to be, wouldn't she? She'd be better at holding grudges than what they assume too, would be more skilled at hurting back.
Still, she'd be caring, Luce. Deeply and wholeheartedly. She'd be so loving, would look after her people to make sure they're happy.
She'd take care to be as much as possible anyway, would do her very best every day to be caring and loving above everything else and if nothing else.
A smile pulls at the corners of her lips, but it doesn't last.
How much of any of that will she afford to make it happen and to what extent? How much of everything else?
If Luce won't have the last word about something as… defining and important as who she'll love, if she'll have to consider the family's needs above all else, above even her own, then… it only makes sense it'll be the same for everything else important about her that could affect the family.
So Luce will grow up to be the Giglio Nero Donna, that much is certain. And turns out even her self can't remain hers if she wants that to happen, but so what of it?
It's… okay. Isn't it? There's worse hands to surrender to to be made as they see fit. More ill-intentioned ones. At least the Giglio Nero family loves her, if for no other reason than what else choice do they have, considering they might have to die for her one day, to die following her orders or as consequences of her decisions?
They'll make her to be safe, healthy and happy as long as the family doesn't suffer for it.
Mother won't make her choose between husbands she thinks might bring her pain, at the very least.
It's even a bit of a relief they'll make her just the way they'll need their Donna to be. She can hardly go wrong like that as she leads the family, and they can hardly blame her for it if things do go wrong anyway.
It's still a shame. If given the freedom to choose, all in all, Luce would have grown up to be liked by the people she holds dear, she thinks. To be loved by them well enough. Maybe not in any grand manner, one that sticks and sinks deep and you never forget, but like… like the way you love a cup of hot chocolate, or a brightly lit fireplace waiting for you at home amidst a cold winter.
Like something that brings you comfort, warmth and happiness, and you don't realize you need it while you still have it, but distinctly feel its absence and miss it when you don't.
Luce would be happy with that, would be satisfied and fulfilled by it.
She'd have loved her, if no one else, and would have loved to get the chance to meet her, to get to know her.
Luce gets out of bed and switches on her bedside lamp. She walks from bookshelf to bookshelf, and gathers all the romantic books and fairy tales she owns before sitting on the floor with them next to her bed.
It's all books she likes, as she doesn't keep the ones she doesn't, preferring to give them the chance to end up in the hands of someone who'll love them too. She reads their titles and their summaries again, recalling to mind their storylines and all her favorite scenes. Imagining herself, as she's done countless times before, as the heroine of the books, the one who gets rescued by the honorable knight, the brave prince or even the humble peasant with the kindest heart; the one who gets their help overcoming the adversities she faces, in the process of which their love for each other takes root and bloom.
It's all books she likes, but among them, there's also the ones she loves. The ones that made her kick her feet hard and squeal loudly in glee, the ones she read with butterflies in her stomach, a fluttering heart, and a huge grin splitting her blushing face in two.
Those ones linger longer in her hands, the time for her to flip through the pages to recall to mind even her favorite lines.
Then, she stacks all of them neatly against the wall, carefully, and stands.
They're all books with happy endings, Luce's heart's too soft for the sad ones. In all of them the love between the protagonists wins, is allowed to be, is their reward for them fighting for it.
She can see herself all too well, like she's imagined and dreamed of countless times before, getting on the knight's horse, walking down the aisle with the prince or running away with her kind peasant, both of them moving forwards together towards their happily ever after.
Luce waves them goodbye and wishes them good luck as they walk further and further away from her. And back in that meeting where she stood behind Mother but might as well not have been there at all, Grown-Up Luce—the one only Luce will ever know about—takes her hand and smiles gently down at her.
Luce smiles back, squeezing her hand a bit too tightly, and the both of them turn around and walk out of the room.
Luce turns the lamp off and gets back in bed.
First things first tomorrow, she'll ask a servant to dispose of her books.
A/N: This is more depressing than I remembered it being when I first wrote it zesfxgdfg. 😭 It's the way Luce's already so good at rationalizing her situation into one that's "okay", the way it already comes so easy to her. It's the way her situation has to be okay, because what can she even do about it anyway if it isn't?
Oughhh. I'm gonna be really normal about Luce in this story is what I'm saying, trust me. 💖
I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Any and all reviews are appreciated.
Thank you for reading!
- Hope