My Death as a Villainess (OG Villainess Katarina Peggy Sue - Hamefura AU)

[RexHeller]

Personally, I love the idea that somewhere, somewhen, a tree-climbing monkey of a girl is very confused about how she unlocked a secret route in her Fortune Lover game.

 

[jadebenn]

Personally, I love the idea that somewhere, somewhen, a tree-climbing monkey of a girl is very confused about how she unlocked a secret route in her Fortune Lover game.

Click to shrink...

Turns out that you can unlock the secret Katarina route by getting the Gerald bad end and reloading the save!

 

[Shanejayell]

Good chapters.

Spoiler

It makes you wonder how much bad stuff Sirius triggered while there at the academy....

 

[jadebenn]

Chapter 12: Mixed State​

---

Katarina comes at him, metal clanging against metal as their swords collide. Gerald parries each of her blows.

Her black training outfit flutters in the breeze as she pulls back. Gerald can't help but notice the way it emphasizes her form. Her hair, too, tied in a ponytail and frazzled from exertion, has a sort of unkempt charm to it. He never thought he'd see the day his fiancée would be willing to wear such an outfit.

He's impressed by her drive, too. He'd initially thought that this would be a phase of hers – a way of getting back at him for some perceived injustice – yet she shows no signs of quitting, despite getting consistently trounced. To his silent amazement, she's actually showing some subtle signs of improvement.

Still…

"I counted five mistakes in your form," he says, grinning at her. "Which would you like to hear first?"

She runs towards him and face red with anger, swinging her sword as if it were an axe. All traces of the half-decent form she had moments before are gone.

With a few flicks of his wrist, he drives her back and forces her to yield.

She pouts. "You provoked me!" The expression looks adorably out of place on her sharp features.

He shakes his head. "Katarina, your opponent is not going to play fair. Especially if said opponent is me, and it's a battle of life and death."

She seems to contemplate what he's saying. "I think I understand what you're getting at." She shakes her head and shifts into a battle stance. "Let's have another go at it!" she shouts, before charging.

Again, he lazily blocks her strikes as she swings her sword wildly at him, even making a yawning motion with his free hand to mock her attempts. He steps back as the lady continues to swing back with wild abandon.

"You're going to have to do better than tha-ah!?"

He notices too late that her hand is glowing, and the world pitches backwards as he trips and loses his footing, leaving him face-to-face with the blue sky, and then, a moment later, his fiancée. Wearing a grin that could rival one of his own, she's pointing her sword at his throat.

"I win," she states, smiling down at him in triumph.

For a moment, he's silent, staring into her confident blue eyes as his heart pounds in his chest. Then he laughs, clapping his hands as he lies on the ground. "Well done, Katarina!" He moves to his feet, still looking at her. "However, that's the kind of trick that only works once. You should have saved that for when you really needed it."

Her triumphant grin twists into an ugly scowl, and he barely restrains himself from laughing. She crosses her arms and glares at him. "You always have something smart to say, don't you?"

"Indeed I do," he replies, flashing her a princely grin.

She groans and rolls her eyes. "You are insufferable. I don't know what I ever saw in you."

A strange feeling overcomes him, and he steps forward and grabs her by the chin, looking her deeply in the eyes. From the way her cheeks immediately flush red, he knows she's lying.

However, very quickly, she pushes him away. "Stop looking at me like that."

Gerald frowns. "You wouldn't have complained a few weeks ago."

"I didn't know you'd kill me a few weeks ago," she retorts.

He sighs, sheathing his sword as he places his hand on his forehead. "Katarina: Why on Earth would I kill you?"

He is not pure, he admits that, but he had a different plan in mind if she became too burdensome and refused to break off the engagement. One that no longer appears to be necessary.

She shakes her head and looks him in the eyes with total conviction. "It doesn't matter. You did."

His frown deepens. The way she looks at him whenever he asks about the topic makes it clear she truly believes what she's saying. Yet she refuses to divulge the sequence of events that lead to her supposed demise. It concerns him greatly. He and Katarina had not always gotten along, but to kill her? He is no paragon of justice, he knows that well, but if he were to start offing nobles for the crime of being annoying, Sorciér would fall into ruin in short order.

He turns to face her, letting his arm fall by his side. "Did you do something?"

"Pardon?" she replies, looking at him strangely.

He shakes his head, not believing he's entertaining her delusions. "In this 'future' of yours. Did you do something?"

She stills for a moment, looking at him as a condemned man would to his executioner, and Gerald's eyes widen. Just as quickly, however, she recomposes herself.

"Are you saying you finally believe me, Gerald?" She turns to the side, an arrogant grin spreading across her face. "How very romantic."

There's a moment of silence, and Katarina's grin begins to falter. Strangely, something stirs within his chest at the sight.

"Katarina," he begins, "I—"

"Pardon me," she interrupts a little too quickly. "I just remembered I have a study session with Alan in a little while. We can continue this later."

With that sentence, Gerald's thoughts grind to a halt as his mind attempts to process this new piece of information.

"Alan!?" he exclaims. "You're studying with Alan!?"

She glares at him. "Yes. What of it?"

"Katarina, I offered to help you with your studies during our last session."

"And I declined. Your point?"

A strange feeling creeps up his chest at the thought of his brother spending time alone with Katarina. It's familiar, but he can't quite place it.

He shakes his head. "You should study with me instead, Katarina. It would be more beneficial for you."

"How much clearer do I have to be?" she hisses. "I do not want to study with you. I do not want to spend more time with you. If it were possible, I would not interact with you at all."

The third prince tries to ignore the sinking feeling spreading across his body. "We are engaged, Katarina, and you need me to teach you how to use a sword," is all he can think is to say.

"Yes," she spits, turning to walk out of the courtyard. "Unfortunately."

---

"I can't believe you made me wait for her," says Nicol as he moves his chess piece across the board.

Gerald contemplates his next move as he replies, "Yes, well, she is my fiancée."

The dark-haired noble shakes his head. "You couldn't stand her."

"Is that an excuse to be rude?" Gerald replies, moving his own piece forward. "Besides, she's changed quite a bit since then."

Nicol looks up from the chessboard and stares at him. "She doesn't seem different."

Gerald stares back. "She is no longer so intolerably clingy."

"Because she's gone mad."

He shrugs. "Perhaps."

Nicol shakes his head. "Yet you attempt to spend time with her anyway."

He looks down at the board as Nicol makes his next move. "She's… interesting."

"Really, Gerald?" replies Nicol, looking disgusted. "She's like any other noblewoman. Perhaps worse."

"Most noblewomen would love to have an engagement with me."

"Most noblewomen aren't crazy."

"I'm surprised you would say that, Nicol."

An ever-so-slight grimace crosses the Ascart's lips. "Still. You understand my meaning."

There's a period of silence as the chess game continues.

"I have been wondering about that," Gerald eventually says. "Her 'vision,' I mean."

Nicol doesn't look up from the chessboard. "Don't tell me you believe her."

"I don't," he replies, shaking his head, "yet this delusion must have some basis in reality to be affecting her so greatly."

"If you ask me," Nicol says, moving a piece forward, "your neglect has caught up to you."

Gerald feels his smile strain. "Pardon?"

His friend's dark eyes lock onto him. "This 'vision' provides her with a convenient excuse to leave you, does it not?"

"Katarina is a terrible liar. She would not be able to put on such a convincing performance."

"She may not be lying. Her mind may have fulfilled a subconscious desire."

"That would be problematic," Gerald frowns, bringing his hand to his chin as he takes inventory of the pieces on the board. "I still have use of her."

"Is that the only reason this distresses you?"

"I don't love her," Gerald replies, identifying and countering Nicol's move.

"Perhaps not." Nicol states. "Yet you enjoy her company."

The mask slips, and Gerald frowns. "And now that I have so little of it, I am realizing it?"

Nicol nods confidently. "Precisely."

He shakes his head. "No. That's not it."

Nicol tilts his head. "No?"

He narrows his eyes. "No. I would not have given a second thought to never seeing her again." That was, after all, exactly what he planned if their arrangement became too burdensome.

Nicol arches an eyebrow. "You're using past tense."

Gerald's frown deepens as he sighs and leans over the chess table, nursing his forehead with his palm. "Sometimes I feel as though you know me better than I know myself, Nicol."

"You're conflicted."

He nods, not moving his palm from his face. "It appears so."

"I don't think your fiancée feels the same way, Gerald."

There's the clink of ceramic against wood, and Gerald tilts his head to look at the table. Nicol has boxed him in. There are no good moves.

He can maintain the engagement for now, overruling Katarina's objections, but it will be costly. While breaking it no longer seems to be an obstacle, Katarina's open resentment has already taken a toll on his reputation and, in turn, his future plans. It's also hard to see the noblewoman spending any more time with him than absolutely necessary. While a few weeks ago he would not have minded such a possibility, it would be quite frustrating to lose access to her now.

Breaking the engagement prematurely would resolve the newly-created impasse with the lovely Miss Campbell, but would also come at the cost of losing Katarina. Perhaps he would be on better terms with her than in the first scenario, but knowing her personality, he doubts it would make much of a difference.

It startles him to realize how his feelings have shifted. Katarina was an utterly boring person, devoid of any interesting qualities whatsoever. He did not think a day would come where he'd actually want to pay attention to her. Now, what was once an easy choice now seems agonizingly unfair. True, if his hand is forced, there is little question he'll pick Miss Campbell over Katarina, but why must he choose at all?

"I need a new paradigm," he mutters.

Nicol looks at him curiously. "Pardon?"

Gerald ignores him as he drops his palm and looks at the board. Chess is a game of defined choices, of trees and decision hierarchies. There is no random factor, no unforeseen chance. Everything is rigidly set out – the possibilities are finite. In his current predicament, there are no good choices. It can be mathematically proven.

Is such an approach really applicable to life?

Life is not binary. There are endless possibilities weighted by various probabilities. There is so much variance that no outcome can ever be certain. To analyze it as a game with fixed rules and rigid outcomes is folly. Such a narrow worldview will blind one to the possibilities all around them.

Gerald's eyes widen, and he feels a smile return to his face. Yes, of course! How had he not seen it before? He laughs as he moves a chess piece across the board, hopping over the obstacles in his way.

Nicol's nose wrinkles in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Winning," he replies.

Nicol looks down at the board, then back up at Gerald. "That's not a legal move."

Gerald shakes his head. "No, it isn't. Yet I still am able to do it. I just had to look at things from a different point of view."

---

Notes

Sorry for the long break between the last update and this one! Had some personal problems. Hopefully I can get back to something close to the two-day streak we had going back there. At the very least, I'd like to be able to do a three-day streak from here on out.

Anyway, Gerald POV! He's hard to write, but I'm actually really happy with how he turned out. I figured it was time to show how this new Katarina had affected her would-be-murderer, and I'm not disappointed by how it turned out.

I hope y'all enjoy!

 

[Shanejayell]

Oooh, Geordo.

"I would marry you both!"

*SLAP!*

*SLAP!*

"Owwww...."

 

[jadebenn]

Chapter 13: Harmony​

---

As Katarina enters the library, she notes with a frown that her usual spot is taken. Perhaps in her past life she would have been willing to try her luck with a little intimidation, but without her allies to back her up…

She shakes her head. No. It's not worth making a fuss over. Even if it has the best lighting and view.

Even if it's where she used to sit with Sienna.

She shakes her head and heads to a random table, not bothering to look around her. The girl next to her mumbles something as Katarina pulls out a chair and sits beside her, but Katarina pays it no mind as she lays out her textbook and flips to her bookmark.

She groans internally when she sees the title of the section: 'Mathematical Formulas for Rune Behavior.' She paradoxically remembers both far too little and far too much of this particular segment of the curriculum. She glances to the entrance to the library and considers waiting for Alan to arrive, before shaking her head and pulling out her notebook. That's just the part of her that wants to stall things. Best to get the pain with over quickly. Besides, rote memorization isn't so bad. It's the next section she's truly afraid of.

She brings the book to bear on the table in front of her, and jots down the various formulas as her eyes slide down the page, along with a brief description and a list of variables. She's learned that it's almost impossible to keep track of what the various symbols and figures represent otherwise. That very mistake had nearly lead to an embarrassing incident during the practical quiz earlier that day, when she almost mixed up the term for generating thaumic fields with one that generated heat. Thankfully, a rather explosive mishap had been averted when Miss Campbell carelessly dropped her papers on the floor, briefly revealing the correct rune as her notes fluttered down to the floor. Katarina had no idea the light mage was so clumsy, but is grateful that it worked to her advantage!

Anyway, to avoid any potential reputation-destroying events (she loves the look on Gerald's face whenever a student compliments him for choosing such an intelligent fiancée), she'll be taking a bit more careful inventory of her notes from this point forwards.

As she flips to the next page of her textbook and moves to write down more information, she can't help but appreciate the irony of her situation. She'd never really cared for her studies in her past life: No-one became Queen because they had good grades. Yet she's discovered a newfound appreciation in her work, especially now that standing beside Gerald as Queen seems more like a nightmare to escape from than a dream to aspire for. If nothing else, it keeps her mind off the dangers that surround her daily.

She flips a page in her notebook and sighs, her wrist gliding across the page as she jots down words and numbers with her quill. Still, even if studying is not as bad as she remembered, it is dull. She has to work twice as hard as any of the other council members to maintain her performance, and the time she's losing to Gerald and his sword training is already causing a noticeable drop in her academics. Even with the overwhelming advantage of having already lived through the semester's material, staying on top isn't easy. She hates to admit it, but without that advantage, it would've likely been impossible.

It's frustrating to see her limitations so clearly. Her insufferable fiancé can succeed at anything he puts his mind to. His brother, though too wrapped up in his own inferiority to see it, is also of exceptional intelligence and talent. Even Miss Campbell, who should've been leagues behind any of the nobles in education, surpasses her handily in both beauty and brains. She does not have the magical power of her so-called brother, the charms of Lord Ascart, or the exotic looks of his sibling. All she has is her title and lineage, and as much as she wishes that was enough, it is not. It did not save her last time. It will not save her this time, either.

If the only person she can rely on is herself, why has fate seen fit to give her so little to work with?

She shakes her head. No. She can't afford to think like that. It will be enough. She will make it enough. She'll show everyone who's ever underestimated her what she's truly capable of. She will find a way to surpass her limitations, or at the very least, work around them. If that means she has to study twice as hard as everyone else, so be it. If that means she has to run herself ragged practicing the sword, so be it. If that means she has to swallow her pride and consort with her greatest enemies to find protection, so be it. She is Katarina Claes, cheater of death! She has already done something no-one thought possible!

She will not be wasting this second chance.

Feeling a fire burning in her chest, she stares at the textbook with renewed energy. Her hand scratches and scrawls on the notebook below.

Very quickly, however, the fire dies down, and she finds her attention beginning to waver. It frustrates her greatly. How pitiful is she, that she cannot maintain focus even in the face of death itself?

She sighs as she lays the quill down on her notebook and leans back in the chair, crossing her arms as she looks up at the ornate chandeliers hanging from the wood-paneled ceiling. Already, the fiery determination is being replaced by gnawing doubt.

What if her best is not good enough? She is not exceptional, not really. Her victories have come from random chance. Everyone around her is so talented and bright. Is she deluding herself in thinking she can ever hope to compete with them?

Perhaps this is how Alan feels, she realizes. Yet she frowns as she thinks of it further. At least he has actual talents, as much as he denies them. What she'd give to be in that same situation…

The gnawing feeling deepens as she continues to stare upwards. Her allies are gone. She honestly misses them. Like her, they are regular girls forced to compete with the exceptional. Also like her, said 'competition' is painfully one-sided. She understands their vendetta against Miss Campbell far too well, but is it really worth breaking their friendship over?

She shakes her head as she leans forward in her chair, feeling unusually heavy. No, no. They weren't her friends. They were allies of convenience. She knew that. They knew that. It is foolish of her to think differently. When their goals no longer aligned, the alliance no longer made sense. It was a rational move, and one she would not have hesitated making if their situations were reversed.

So why does it hurt so much to think that Sienna will never sit by her side again?

She's mortified when she feels the first tear run down her face. She's even more humiliated when it's joined by a second. Crying in public? She's such a child. No wonder they all hate her. Still the tears keep coming, and she buries her face in her arms against the table as her cries escalate into ugly sobs.

The rumor mill will never let her live this down. Her image will be permanently compromised. No-one will be able to take her seriously once they hear the story of poor Lady Claes breaking down and crying in the library.

The tears only intensify.

She hears the girl next to her mumble again, but her words are drowned out by her own choked breaths. No doubt she thinks she's pitiful, losing her composure over something so trivial.

There's a delicate hand on her shoulder, but she ignores it as she continues to cry into her book. The equations she'd been copying down so enthusiastically not so long ago are now wet with her tears.

Eventually, as the fear and confusion and worry and pain subside, she finally leans up from the book, wiping her face on her sleeves. She pretends to not notice all the nobles turning their heads away from her as she does. She's already consigned herself to the rumors that will soon be spreading.

"Are you alright?" the quiet voice mumbles again, only this time she can finally make out what it's saying, and who it belongs to.

She lies and nods, not daring to face its owner. As if her humiliation was not complete enough already, fate has seen fit to place another member of the student council beside her.

"I can't believe I did that in public," Katarina mutters.

The soft hand on her back tightens. "I won't judge you for it."

Such banal words. She'd laugh, if it wasn't so tragic.

She finally works up the courage to turn towards the girl, seeing the white-haired and red-eyed Lady Ascart. The girl looks toward her with pity.

Fitting. Even the cursed girl looks down at her.

"I was mad at you for taking my brother's seat," Lady Ascart says, pausing to glance away, "but I can see you're having a hard time right now."

"I wasn't paying attention," Katarina replies, shaking her head. "Pardon me for acting so rudely."

The girl locks eyes with her and smiles. It looks unfamiliar. Has Katarina actually ever seen her smiling, before?

"No, it's okay. Thank you for apologizing, though."

She'd apologized? Huh. She hadn't even realized it.

"Lady Claes, if I may ask, what's bothering you?"

Katarina sighs. "I do not want to talk about it."

Lady Ascart's smile falls, but she nods. "I understand."

There's a long period of silence that follows as Lady Ascart returns to her reading.

"Where is Lord Ascart, anyway?" Katarina asks.

"He is still with your fiancé, I believe."

Katarina snorts and crosses her arms. "If you can even call him that."

Lady Ascart chuckles, and Katarina barely restrains herself from glaring at her. Yes, her misery is so funny. Ha. Ha.

She evidently does not do a good enough job, as Lady Ascart glances over to her and suddenly recoils with a guilty expression.

"I-I'm sorry," the cursed girl mutters, once again not looking her in the eyes.

Her anger subsides. "You didn't mean anything by it."

There's another long period of silence as Lady Ascart turns back to her book and quietly flicks a page. Katarina glances over, quickly realizing Lady Ascart is not studying as she presumed. The book is far too small, and far too dense with words. It's a novel of some kind.

She cranes her head over to look, trying not to breath on the noblewoman's nape. The princess is doing something to a commoner woman, it seems. She doesn't quite understand what the ropes are for, though. Is the commoner a prisoner? If so, why is she agreeing to—

"Ah!" the white-haired girl yelps, glancing at her and slamming the book shut in surprise.

Katarina jerks back, confused at what she'd done to scare her.

"A-Ah, L-Lady C-Claes," Lady Ascart stutters, her face red, "I-It's n-not what you think!"

Her forehead crinkles in confusion. "It's not?"

"I-It's research!" Lady Ascart stutters, shaking her head as she waves her hands frantically. "I-I'm reading this for a project!"

"Oh," she replies. Shame. Would've been nice to solve that mystery.

She turns to her own book, now soaked in tears and utterly unreadable. She frowns. Isn't there something about this they'd learned in class earlier? Thankfully, her notebook is intact, so she quickly flips through the pages, finding it after a few moments of searching.

Katarina glances at the instructions before nodding and lifting her hands above the textbook. Closing her eyes, she focuses her energy on the page, and mutters the incantation she'd written down.

When she opens her eyes… nothing's changed. She lets her arms drop to her sides and frowns, feeling the gnawing sensation return to her chest.

"Ah, a restoration charm?"

Katarina nods, not looking at her. "Professor Finnelan said it was easy."

Or as she'd put it, "Even someone with as pitiful mana as you should be able to do this one!"

"I think you're just saying it wrong," Lady Ascart explains. "Try putting less emphasis on the 'O' in 'Orfei.'"

She nods and lifts her hands above the page, muttering the incantation again. This time, she feels the power begin flowing through her palms the moment the last word leaves her mouth.

When she opens her eyes, the page is crisp and clean, as though the embarrassing incident had never happened.

Katarina looks over to Lady Ascart. "Thank you." The words again tumble out of her mouth without prompt, but she doesn't fight them.

The white-haired girl grins, and Katarina feels the weight in her chest subside.

Suddenly, Lady Ascart's eyes widen. "Ah, b-but, did you really mean what you said earlier, Lady Claes?"

Katarina arches an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"A-About the b-book I was reading, I m-mean."

She shrugs. "I don't see what's wrong with it."

The white-haired noblewomen almost pounces on her. Katarina swears she can see stars in her crimson eyes.

"Really!?" she exclaims, looking far more animated than Katarina thought either of the Ascarts was capable of being.

She nods hesitantly. "I was actually curious how it'd turn out."

And then, the white-haired girl moves even closer to her to her face, to the point that Katarina can smell her expensive perfume. "Lady Claes! Can I please call you Lady Katarina?"

Katarina quickly pushes her away. "Let's not be too hasty, Lady Ascart."

Lady Ascart's expression falls. "O-Oh."

Something stirs in Katarina chest at the sight of the dejected noblewomen, and with a sigh she adds, "We should spend more time with each other first."

"You mean that?"

Something warm fills her chest when see turns and sees the girl smiling again due to her words. Without thinking, she nods.

"Of course. Perhaps when I am not otherwise occupied over the weekend? I'm usually pretty busy though…"

"T-That's fine!" Lady Ascart exclaims, pumping her fists in excitement. "I'll make time!"

She suddenly frowns as she remembers Keith's absence from the council meeting. "It can't be this weekend though. I have something I need to take care of."

The white-haired noblewoman frowns, but the spark doesn't disappear from her eyes. "That's fine! We'll work something out later!" There's a short pause as her expression turns contemplative. "Besides," she mutters, "I'll need time to find something a bit tamer…"

Katarina wrinkles her nose at the odd choice of words, but before she can ask, she feels a hand clasp against her shoulder.

"Lady Claes," Lord Ascart states. "You are in my seat."

"Nicol!" exclaims his sister, turning to him with a cross expression. "That's no way to treat my friend!"

"Friend?" the both of them exclaim.

"O-Oh," Lady Ascart mutters, once again retreating inwards. "Did I overstep my boundaries again, Lady Claes?

She thinks about it for a moment. Her reputation is in tatters either way. Her allies have deserted her. Does she really have anything to lose by agreeing to Lady Ascart's proposal?

"I'm still not entirely comfortable with that, Lady Ascart," she eventually replies. "I only just met you." Before either of them can interrupt, however, she extends a finger. "But," she adds, "I don't see any harm in trying to become one."

Lady Ascart beams. "That's good enough for me, Lady Claes!"

Lord Ascart's mouth tugs into a subtle frown.

And then, to add to the caravan of sudden arrivals, Katarina hears Alan's voice ring out behind her. "Lady Claes? Is that you? What happened to your eyeliner?"

She quickly grabs her textbook and notebook from the table and slides them into her pouch, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks.

"A-Ah, we'll have to continue this conversation later, Lady Ascart!" she sputters as she struggles with the leather bag's flap. "I need to get decent before I study with Prince Alan!"

The white-haired girl nods. "I understand, Lady Claes."

Nicol just stares.

She quickly moves to her feet, and the black-haired nobleman lets go of her shoulder.

"Lady Claes?" Alan calls out.

She holds her pouch against her face to conceal it from his sight.

"I need to freshen up first, Alan!" she exclaims, making her way to the library doors. "I'll be back soon!"

"Uh… okay then. I'll wait for you here."

She pushes through the entrance, hitching her skirt up with her free hand as she runs through the hallways beyond. She tries to ignore the stares of passing students. Whatever. They already think she is crazy.

May as well play to form.

---

Notes

LOOOONG chapter. Maybe even the longest yet.

Special thanks to Mr. Terrorist for recommending this fic on TvTropes, laikaspeaks on AO3 for writing a cute little scene inspired by the last chapter, and Haste on SpaceBattles for uploading a non-canon omake based on a silly idea we had in the SB thread. If you're interested in any of that, check it out!

Aye aye aye, translating between SB/SV's bbcode and AO3's psuedo-HTML makes hyperlinks not very fun. But it's worth it, seeing how much effort y'all are putting in! Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

 

[Shanejayell]

Good one.

Assuming Sophia is into women, one wonders how hard she'll have it. You can't just settle down with another 'spinster lady' and mind your own business, in this society....

 

[jadebenn]

Good one.

Assuming Sophia is into women, one wonders how hard she'll have it. You can't just settle down with another 'spinster lady' and mind your own business, in this society....

Click to shrink...

I'm certain there are ways. There were in our history after all, and my interpretation of Sorcier has less of a stigma against homosexuality than real-world societies of that era. You can't get a legal gay marriage in their world, and most noblewomen seem to be expected to pop out an heir, but aside from that I'm certain you could have some... off the books arrangements.

Real talk, though. Sophia's sexuality may be the most ambiguous out of all the female cast in canon (I think you could make an argument she's actually a full-on lesbian, depending on how you interpret her original counterpart's relationship with Nicol), but it seems quite likely that she is also bi, if her reading preferences in later volumes are any indication (Katarina mentions she's taken a liking to M/M in LN 6).

I mean, is it realistic that every female character of the main cast appears to be bisexual? No. Is that what canon seems to point to? Yes. So that's what I'm running with.

 

[jadebenn]

Chapter 14: Entanglement​

---

There's a knock on the door as Anne finishes re-applying the last of her make-up.

"Anne, would you please get that?"

Her dutiful maid nods, placing the brush down on the vanity as she turns towards the door. Katarina dusts off her dress as she rises to her feet and follows her.

The moment Anne turns the doorknob, the door bursts open. Alan Stuart brushes past her as he comes stomping in, his dark coat trailing behind him.

"Katarina Claes," he intones, eyes narrow and lips pursed in a frown. He pauses just a few feet away from her. "You said you would be back after you 'freshened-up.'"

She blinks at him. "I just finished?"

He scoffs at her, flicking his unkempt hair as he rolls his eyes. "A likely story."

Katarina balls her fists and tries very hard to suppress her rising urge to strangle him. Great. He's in one of his 'moods' again.

"It is likely," she hisses, smiling at him through clenched teeth, "because that is what happened."

His blue eyes rise and fall as he looks her over. In response, Katarina shows off more teeth. His eyes narrow, but he steps back and crosses his arms, eyes turning to glare at a nearby wall.

"Whatever," he mutters.

Katarina tilts her head back and groans as she nurses her forehead. Honestly, it's as if she's dealing with a child.

"P-Pardon me," Anne says, deftly sliding past the fourth prince as she moves toward her charge. Katarina notices a glimmer of sweat on her forehead.

Alan's eyes widen as the maid squeezes by. "Oh, sorry," he mutters, letting his arms fall to his sides. Then, realizing what he just said, he once again turns his head to glare at Katarina.

Katarina lowers her hand and tilts her head forwards. "Are you finished complaining?"

The fourth prince does nothing but continue to bore into her with his gaze, so Katarina decides to interpret that as a 'yes.'

"Anne?" she says, locking eyes with her ever-faithful servant.

"Yes, Lady Katarina?" Anne replies, brown eyes flitting nervously between her charge and the visiting royalty.

Katarina sighs as she grabs her pouch. She looks at Anne with a resigned expression. "Be a dear and clean up while I'm gone, will you?"

Anne closes her eyes and bows her head. "Of course, my lady. Have a good time."

In other words, "Good luck."

---

"This seems like a good place," Katarina states, pointing to a wooden table outside.

"I thought we were going to the library?" Alan says from behind her.

She shakes her head as she pulls out a chair. "I don't want to go back to the library right now." She'd rather not be reminded of how everyone saw her bawl her eyes out in public.

He shakes his head. "Well, I left my things in the library. I'll go get them."

By the time she's unfurled her papers and cracked open her books, he's back. She quietly resumes copying down equations as the fourth prince lays his materials across from her on the wooden table.

She pauses as she's about to turn the page. There really is no sign of the stains and blurred ink that defaced it not so long ago. She examines her palm. Huh. That little cantrip seems surprisingly useful. What else had she missed out on last time?

"What are you doing?"

She frowns as she glances up at him and places her hand down. "None of your concern."

He snorts. "What? Did you break a nail?"

She groans and rolls her eyes. "Are you here to help me, or to make fun of me?"

"You are my rival."

Now it's her turn to snort. "You have an odd definition of 'rival,' Alan."

"Hmph."

She looks down to her text and continues to write notes as she flips the page to the next section.

"Your notes are still messy."

She glances up from her notebook and points at his open notebook. Uneven lines of near-illegible cursive letterforms adorn the open page. She locks eyes with him and arches an eyebrow as she withdraws her hand.

Alan pouts and looks away.

Katarina returns to her studies.

Some time passes, and the sky begins to turn a shade of orange as the sun falls below the horizon. They'll have to go inside soon, but she'll probably call it quits when that happens. She'll need the rest for tomorrow's journey. Hopefully Keith hasn't already taken a carriage back.

"You okay?" Alan asks.

She looks up from the table as she pauses writing. "I'm fine."

"Sorry," he says, looking at her curiously. "You just started making a face."

She sighs, placing down her quill as she leans back and crosses her arms "How is your relationship with your siblings?"

He frowns, and turns back to his notes. "It's fine," he says, voice cold.

She waits for him to elaborate, but he says nothing. The only sound is of his pen scratching against paper. She'll have to be a little more forceful, then.

"Right. So 'fine' that you declared me your rival because I beat him in something."

He slams down the pen and looks up at her, face locked in a snarl. "Are you going to criticize me too?"

She shakes her head. "No. I was just wondering."

His expression softens a bit, but he's clearly still angry. "Yeah, well, you may as well not bother. It's pretty clear how our relationship is."

She nods. "Agreed. Just like it is clear that Keith and I do not get along."

He seems to deflate at that. "Right," he replies, nodding slowly. "It's like that."

She thinks about it for a bit, and eventually says, "Is it really, though?"

Alan furrows his brow.

"Keith is the heir to the Claes family, and I have no doubt he'll try and cut me off once my father… retires." She looks him in the eyes. "Do you think Gerald would do the same to you once he becomes king?"

"If he becomes king," Alan growls.

She rolls her eyes. "Do not delude yourself, Alan. If Gerald wants to inherit the throne, he will inherit the throne."

Alan grits his teeth. "That pompous jerk thinks he can do whatever he wants!"

"Unfortunately for both of us, it seems like he can."

"Eh?" Alan replies, arching an eyebrow, "Aren't you his fiancée? Wouldn't you want him to succeed?"

The sword slashes through her chest. Blood sprays everywhere, staining Gerald's white uniform. Her body screams in pain as she collapses to the ground, the hateful glare of the third prince burning into her soul.

She shakes her head violently. "No," she hisses. "I do not."

Alan brings a hand to his chin. "Is that why you beat him, then? To show him that he shouldn't underestimate you?"

She smirks. "Perhaps."

"How did you do it?" he asks, looking at her with pleading eyes as he leans over the table. "Please, Lady Claes. Tell me."

"I told you already," she sighs. "I already took the test in my past life."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

He scoffs at her. "Whatever. One day I'll figure it out."

"It doesn't matter anyway," she says, looking down at the table. "Now that he knows I'm a threat, there's no way he'll let me win again."

"Let you!?" exclaims Alan, and she feels the table rock as he slams his hands down on it. "What, do you need permission from him to win!?"

She glares at him. "Of course not!"

"Then why are you just going to let him walk all over you like that!?" he says, leaning closer.

"Because he's a genius, Alan!" she yells, jumping from her seat and leaning across the table towards him. "He's a genius who cares about his reputation as one!"

"So!?" he says. His face is just inches away from yours.

"I'm not!" she shouts. Her voice echoes across the field, but she's too angry to care about eavesdroppers.

Alan stands there for a few moments, sitting over the table, before he calmly sits down. He looks off into the distance as he speaks. "I think I see the problem."

She snorts. "Sure."

He holds up a hand as he continues to stare away from her. As the anger fades from her body, she quietly sits down as well.

Finally, he turns to her, looking serious. "You're thinking about this individually," he says. "That's incorrect."

"What?"

"When the First King stormed the walls of DeGaulle's Keep, was it not his victory?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not following." She doesn't understand how the early history of Sorciér applies to beating Gerald.

He sighs. "The First King had soldiers and allies to help him in that battle, because he knew he wouldn't win alone."

She nods, still not understanding. "Okay?"

Alan brings a palm to his forehead. "What I'm saying is that you don't need to beat him by yourself."

She frowns. "It wouldn't be my victory, if I relied on others for it."

"Not relying on others," he states, dropping his palm and looking her in the eyes, "but making their will your own."

She blinks. "I don't quite understand."

"Okay," he says, shaking his head. He points to himself. "You and I have a common goal, right? We both want to beat Gerald."

She nods.

"So if we beat Gerald, is it my victory or yours?"

She scoffs, pointing to herself. "Mine, of course."

"But I win as well, don't I?"

She frowns, laying her hand back on the table. "I suppose."

He smirks. "Now do you see what I mean?"

She pauses. Is this not exactly what she had done with the girls here? They'd all been fractured groups, going after Miss Campbell individually. She had come and brought them under her aegis; made their wills her own.

…Well, last time, at least. Things hadn't gone quite as well this time.

"Perhaps," she eventually answers. She smirks at him. "Actually, yes. I do think I understand your point."

"I think you were right earlier, Lady Claes," Alan chuckles. He extends a hand towards her, and grins as she stares her in the eyes. "We aren't rivals."

She feels a rising sensation in her chest, grips the fourth prince's hand, and flashes him a wicked grin in return.

He flushes red for some reason, but the emotion quickly passes, and it's once again replaced by a confident smirk as the two of them shake hands.

"Good to have you, ally."

---

Notes

Keith time soon. Oh boy.

Oh, by the way, I found out Sienna's canonically got flaxen hair with eyes to match, and wears a pink dress. So I'll be updating my descriptions of her in previous chapters. Eventually.

Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter!

 

[QTesseract]

I have to say, I'm really liking this fic.

... So much so, that I went and read the rest of it because I didn't want to wait, and now can't comment on all the stuff I read here. Which is a bit awkward, but hey.

 

[jadebenn]

I have to say, I'm really liking this fic.

... So much so, that I went and read the rest of it because I didn't want to wait, and now can't comment on all the stuff I read here. Which is a bit awkward, but hey.

Click to shrink...

Ah, that was you! Didn't put two and two together with the usernames until now.

Glad to hear you enjoyed the story! Feel free to spoiler anything you'd like to discuss!

 

[Shanejayell]

I have to say, I'm really liking this fic.

... So much so, that I went and read the rest of it because I didn't want to wait, and now can't comment on all the stuff I read here. Which is a bit awkward, but hey.

Click to shrink...

Right there with ya. Comrade! *lol*

 

[serra2]

Man, with how things are advancing with Alan, I have to wonder how Mary is taking it?

 

[jadebenn]

Chapter 15: Disassociation​

---

Katarina orders her carriage prepared the first thing next morning, and quickly packs a few things for her trip to Claes Manor. Anne, of course, travels with her.

Aside from the growing cloud-cover as the day goes on, the carriage ride is uneventful. The trip from the Magic Academy to her home is not a long one, though some of the roads could certainly stand to be improved.

The sun seems to be low in the sky as the carriage pulls past the gates of her family's estate, though it's hard to tell with all the clouds in the way.

She is barely out of the carriage when Keith notices her and scowls, quickening his pace as he tosses a large piece of luggage inside an identical carriage, presumably prepared for him.

"Keith!" she shouts, hitching her dress up as she strides over to him.

He rolls his eyes as he claps the dust off his hands. "What do you want?"

Katarina leans toward his face, not letting an ounce of unease show through. "What are you planning?" she hisses, staring into his dark blue eyes.

He furrows his brow, and pushes her away. Once again, she's momentarily stunned by his audacity. She recovers quickly, but judging by the satisfied smirk on the contemptible bastard's face, her surprise has not gone unnoticed.

Keith folds his arms and leans against the carriage wheel. "What's wrong, sis? I'm just doing a little packing."

She shakes with anger as she points at him. "You are not to address me that way!"

"Oh, give me a break," he sighs, once again rolling his eyes. "Like I'd actually consider you my sister."

This attitude of his is unacceptable! What on Earth has possessed him to act with such bravado?

"Then I'm certain you won't mind when I do it as well, brother."

Something dangerous appears in Keith's eyes, and Katarina briefly worries that she's finally pushed him too far as he lurches forward. That death glare is all-too-familiar, even when it's not on Gerald's face.

Keith closes his eyes and takes a sharp breath. When he opens them again, the look is gone. "Do not call me that ever again," he hisses.

She takes a step back, but quickly folds it into her shift to a haughty pose. "Then I believe we have reached an understanding."

He grunts and turns away from her, not saying a word as he returns to the items he's loading.

She nods, feeling herself relax. Good. This is how it's supposed to be. Not… whatever that was.

"I do not believe we were finished, Keith," she says.

He tenses up, pausing as he holds the bag in hand.

"What are you planning, coming home so early?"

There's a long pause as he stands there, facing away from her.

"Am I not allowed to go through a few of my items before summer break?"

She places a hand on her hip. "You expect me to believe you came all the way back here just to pack?"

"Believe what you want," he sighs before moving to toss another bag into his carriage. He does not relax a bit. "You can check with the maids, Duke Luigi, and your precious mother. All of them can confirm what I said."

She frowns. That remark in itself is suspicious.

As he hefts the last of his luggage inside the carriage, the Claes heir turns to face her and glares as he steps onto the carriage.

"By the way, Miss Councilwoman," he states, cold eyes devouring the surprise that crosses her features. "Don't throw stones if you live in a glass house."

With a thump of its door, the carriage begins moving down the path towards the gate. She glares at it at as it disappears, not daring to appear weak or guilty in the face of his challenge.

The moment it rounds the corner and disappears behind the trees, she breaks into a cold sweat.

Distant thunder rings out as the first drops of rain begin to fall.

---

Katarina sits at the dining room table, fidgeting as she waits for the servants to arrive.

Her father, Duke Luigi Claes, sits at the head of the table, as customary for the head of the family. Her mother, Millidiana Claes, sits to his side. The two pointedly do not make eye contact, even as they exchange pleasantries.

Katarina frowns as she sees the wrinkles on their faces. They seem so much older now. Prematurely aged by the one that had torn her family apart.

She glares at the tablecloth, trying to hide her scowl. It doesn't work.

"What's wrong, Katarina?" her father asks.

She calms herself before turning to look at him. "It is nothing."

That's a lie, but there's no point relitigating the dispute. It's rare for him to come home these days, and while he shares much of the blame for their current situation, she does enjoy his company. It lets her think back to happier times.

"It's interesting you chose to come home today," Mother says. "The day after he unexpectedly returned."

Her expression is flat, but her blue eyes are frigid.

Father just sighs, leaning over the table.

There's a long period of quiet, punctuated only by the sounds of rain and thunder, intermingled with the distant clinking of glass and silverware.

"Perhaps we should be thinking of something to do over the break?" Katarina offers.

Father perks up a bit. "That does sound nice, Katarina."

She flashes a smile at him, pushing down her own negative thoughts. "I was thinking we could visit the mountains. Perhaps have a picnic."

Both Mother and Father seem to consider this.

"It has been a while," Mother says, holding a finger to her chin. "I believe we could use a change of pace."

Father nods, a small smile creeping across his face. "I have business with the Nelsons, so I believe that would work nicely."

Katarina's heart stops, and she briefly wonders if she should withdraw the proposal. Then she sees Mother and Father smiling, and she decides against it.

It may be a pale imitation of what they had before, but it's something.

A moment later, the dinner bell rings, and the various chefs and servants enter the room, carrying platters of food. In swift, well-trained motions, they place the platters on the table in front of them.

"Dinner is served," states a chef, and the staff file out.

Katarina grabs her silverware, and gently places a bit of steak on her plate. She cuts it with a knife before taking a bit.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have heard some very interesting rumors about your activities at school, Katarina," intones her mother with a sidelong glance. She dips a spoon into her soup and quietly sips it.

Katarina chews on the bit of steak longer than she needs to as she struggles to think up a response. Eventually, she swallows and replies, "Whatever do you mean, Mother?"

Her eyes narrow, and Katarina feels the temperature of the room drop.

"Why, I have heard the strangest rumor about you using a sword."

Katarina quickly forks another bit of steak into her mouth as she stalls for time.

"And what's more," her mother continues, gaze intensifying, "several people say you've gone mad and claim to have seen your death in the future. At your fiancé's hands, no less!"

The steak is little more than rubbery paste at this point, but she doesn't dare stop chewing until she's about to gag. She swallows it with a fitting gulp as she tries to concoct an explanation that will satisfy Mother.

It's only after she opens her mouth that she realizes there isn't one.

"Your Grace. May I speak up on Lady Claes' behalf?"

Katarina turns to see Anne standing behind her chair, arms folded and expression neutral. She moves back to her mother to see her arching an eyebrow at her faithful servant.

"Katarina," Mother eventually says, looking her in the eyes. "Will you permit Anne to speak on your behalf?"

She nods, despite the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at her chest. "I will, Mother."

She turns her gaze to Anne.

Anne bows. "Thank you, my lady." Returning to her full height and taking a few steps forward, she says, "Lady Claes has been under an incredible amount of stress since arriving at the academy. I have seen firsthand how hard she is working to uphold the family name."

"Unlike some," her mother mutters, causing her father to look away in shame.

Anne blinks before resuming her speech. "Regardless, if I may be so blunt, I believe Lady Claes faltered under the strain."

Mother tilts her head. "I suppose such incidents are not unheard of." She frowns. "I would, however, like to hear an explanation for why you didn't intervene."

"Of course, Your Grace," replies Anne, unphased. "For the claims of foresight, I am afraid those were outside my power to affect. Even after my lady ceased such behavior, the rumors continued to spread."

Mother nods, looking satisfied at the explanation. "And the sword fighting?"

"I must admit I supported the activity," Anne sighs, bowing her head in penance. "I believed it would be therapeutic, and that the nature of my lady's arrangement would prevent such rumors from forming."

Mother looks significantly less pleased at that, judging by the way her brows furrow, but she does not speak up.

"Come to think of it," Katarina says, internally sighing in relief as her parents' eyes move from Anne to her, "who started that rumor anyway? There aren't a whole lot of people who should've seen us in the courtyard."

Mother looks thoughtful as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips, not turning away from her daughter as she sips it. "It appears I will need to find that out," she replies, placing the glass down on the tablecloth and turning towards Katarina's maid. "Anne?"

She lifts her head. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Your answers so far have been acceptable, but I have one more question to ask of you."

"Of course, Your Grace."

Her eyes narrow. "You would not have happened to… support my daughter in these delusions, would you?"

Anne blinks. "Aside from what she asked of me?"

She nods.

Anne's answer is as quick as it is devastating. "No."

"I figured as much." Mother nods as her gaze returns to her plate. "Thank you, Anne. And please, go get something to eat."

Anne bows again, and steps out of her sight.

Katarina picks at her food, trying to ignore the hurt in her chest.

---

As she finishes her dinner, she asks to be excused, and walks down the halls to her room. There is something she needs to check.

Surprisingly, her door is already unlocked when she reaches it. It gives her pause. Had Keith gone in while she was away?

She pushes down the dread in her stomach as she opens the door, and sighs in relief as the inside comes into view. Her room is in order. Nothing is out of place. Not that there is anything compromising here to begin with. What she couldn't take with her, she'd hidden or destroyed. Still, it's relieving to feel that perhaps her paranoia has simply gotten the better of her.

That is, of course, until something crunches underneath her foot.

She steps back, looking at the obstacle on the white carpet. There's a half-cracked key underneath her boot. It looks like the one that fits the lock to her room.

The only difference is that this one's made from dried mud.

The feeling of dread returns as she realizes there's no-one at the school guarding her dorm room, and that Keith has a several hour head-start.

---

Notes

God, I hate going this long in-between updates. Sorry about that, guys! Unlike the last time I had a break this long, though, I was able to write the vast majority of the time in-between. So this is 2k words out of about 6k I currently have written. Yes, for the first time in weeks, I actually have a buffer.

The remaining 4k words I've written up aren't quite up to polish yet, but they should be soon. Depending on how things shake out you might get a super long chapter next time, or a couple typical length chapters. We'll see.

Anyway, please enjoy!

 

[QTesseract]

Awfully sloppy of Keith, really. I mean, he doesn't really need to be at this point, and she was already suspicious of his motives, but still.

 

[jadebenn]

Chapter 16: Connections​

---

Rain patters against the roof as the carriage slowly rocks back and forth. Katarina tries her best to ignore both the gnawing dread in her chest, and the maid sitting across from her.

Keith left that key behind as a taunt, didn't he? He could've dissolved it into dirt or taken it with him, but he instead left it on the floor for her to find. She's fallen for his trap, and he wants her to know. He's probably rifling through her drawers as she sits here, looking for… something. She's fairly certain she's disposed of anything that could be compromising, but the idea still unnerves her. What if she's overlooked something? What if she hasn't been as thorough as she thinks? There's probably nothing he can find that would cause her to lose her position, but there's a chance he'll find something that would reflect badly on her. Something he could hold over her head.

She flinches as booming thunder shakes the carriage. Even the weather has turned against her.

"My Lady?" says Anne, reaching out a hand to her as she looks on in concern.

Katarina shakes her head, crossing her arms as she turns away. No, no. False concern. Anne had made her real feelings quite clear.

There's a quiet sigh, and the carriage continues to bounce and shake as the sound of rain intensifies.

"I'm not sure how far we'll be able to get," Anne says quietly. "If this storm keeps up…"

Katarina continues to ignore her. The horses whinny as lightning flashes through the windows, and another burst of thunder rolls through.

"My Lady?" Anne says, voice a little louder. "Is something bothering you?"

Katarina doesn't respond to her faux sympathy. She doesn't look her in the eyes either.

"Is this about earlier?"

Katarina finally faces her, glaring at the maid she had so foolishly trusted. "I do not want to hear it."

Anne's eyes widen in surprise, before narrowing as she looks away in shame.

Katarina refuses to back down, even upon seeing the despondent expression on Anne's face. It's false. Just like what she said earlier. All lies.

Anne sighs and removes her white headpiece, before turning to her, brown eyes filled with a strange determination. She places her hands on Katarina's shoulders as she leans forwards and says, "Lady Katarina. What I say now, I say not as your personal maid."

Katarina feels a flash of irritation as her maid so flagrantly breaches decorum, but hesitates.

"I really do believe you," Anne intones. There's not a hint of doubt in her eyes.

Katarina blinks. "But you said to Mother—"

"Yes, I know what I said to Duchess Claes." Anne closes her eyes and nurses her forehead. "I lied."

"What?"

Anne opens an eye, still rubbing her forehead. "Yes, it's true. I lied to her."

Katarina, still not understanding, shakes her head. "Why?"

Anne lowers her hand. "She would have fired me on the spot otherwise."

"Because you believe me?"

"Lady Katarina. Your mother loves you very much, but think about what this looks like from her perspective. She has not seen what I have."

Katarina tilts her head. "I know she thinks it's crazy, but wouldn't she believe you, Anne?"

Anne shakes her head. "Lady Katarina, I have served House Claes for many years, and I believe your parents have a lot of trust in my capabilities, but…" Anne takes a shaky breath. "If either of them thought I was hurting you in any way, they would not hesitate to terminate my employment."

"I still don't understand. How does believing me 'hurt' me?"

"They would believe I was 'encouraging your delusions,' Lady Katarina." She leans closer to her charge, voice dropping to a whisper. "I still do not understand what has happened to you, Lady Katarina, but you have changed so drastically in such a short period of time, and you've told me knowledge you should not be capable of possessing. It is obvious to me there is an outside force at work, but it is not something others would accept easily."

Katarina nods slowly. "I think I understand. It is still difficult for me, even. Sometimes I question whether or not what I remember is real."

"It is improper for me to say this: but I am very worried for your safety, Lady Katarina." Anne's grip tightens as concern spreads across her face. "Are you certain it is wise to remain at the Magic Academy?"

"Attendance is mandatory, Anne," Katarina sighs. "I could try and withdraw for a year – if my parents would even let me, and I doubt it – but at least this way I know what's coming."

Anne bites her lip. "Still, my lady. I do not wish to lose—" She stops, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Forgive me, Lady Katarina. I am already bending decorum, but that was—"

Anne gasps as Katarina leans into her.

"I don't want to lose you either."

This time, it's Anne that wraps her arms around her and draws her into a hug.

"Lady Katarina. For a long time, I did not think you saw me as anything but your maid, and I told myself that was enough." Her voice shakes as she continues. "To know that you're in so much danger, and that you see me as f-family…"

"S-Silly," Katarina sniffles, and it is. Anne is her personal maid, paid by her parents to take care of her and attend to her needs. This is a job for her, nothing more.

Yet when she feels the shuddering breaths and quiet sobs as her faithful servant – no, companion – draws her into an even tighter embrace and begins crying into her shoulder, she knows it's more than that.

Anne isn't family. She's better.

---

Maria clutches her cloak tightly as another burst of cold wind threatens to tear it away from her. The gray sky spreads above her as her boots splash through the muddy road.

She'd returned one of the books she'd borrowed for her studies. The supplemental materials help, and the librarian isn't very cold to her, so she stops by often.

Times like this, when there aren't a whole lot of people out, are best. She legitimately needs a cloak for the rain, but she's grateful it obscures her face. Even all these years later, the glances and glares she gets from some of the townsfolk make her skin crawl.

It's probably not much better for Mom.

At least the rain has let up.

She passes a fancy carriage as she walks down the path to her house.

"Sorry, milady, but when the creek's run over like that, ya dunnae have a chance of makin' it past."

A familiar voice rings out in response. "There has to be another way!"

The man shakes his head. "You'll end up drowned if ya try and ford it. It's how we almost lost Terrance last year, and that boy's a strong swimmer! The waters would eat ya alive!" He takes off his hat and looks respectfully at the carriage's occupant. "If I can offer some advice, milady, I'd suggest stayin' the night in town and waitin' for the waters to recede."

As the familiar voice rings out again, Maria feels herself drawn to the side of the carriage.

"Is that inn really the only place to stay? It looks quite ghastly."

The man suppresses a scowl. "It may not be the fine accommodations yer used to, but ya won't find anywhere else in town nicer."

She can almost see the figure inside the carriage, but there's very little doubt in her mind that it's who she suspects. Still, just to be on the safe side…

"Lady Claes, is that you?"

"Miss Campbell!?"

The carriage rocks as something hard thumps against its inside. Maria doesn't have much time to ponder that, however, as the man next to the carriage turns and eyes her suspiciously.

"Ya two acquainted? Then I suppose I should leave the rest to you, 'Miss Campbell.'"

She tries to ignore the look of derision he sends her as he walks away.

Lady Claes eventually pokes her head out the carriage window, and Maria notices her hair's slightly ruffled.

There's a scowl on her face as they lock eyes, but it's very quickly replaced with a pleasant (and clearly false) smile.

"Ah, Miss Campbell," she begins. "What brings you out here?"

Her mouth is smiling, but her eyes are ice-cold.

"This is my hometown, Lady Claes," Maria explains. "I come here every weekend."

Katarina looks at her skeptically, but her features soften. "I see."

An idea suddenly occurs to Maria, unprompted, and she feels the blood rush to her cheeks. "A-Ah, Lady Claes? I heard you needed a place to stay?"

The lady looks at her skeptically. "Yes. What of it?"

"Well, we have a spare room in our cottage. I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind."

What on Earth is she doing? She has no idea how Mom would feel about a guest! It's been so long!

As she looks up at the lady, the displeased expression she wears makes Maria fear she's gone a step too far. There's a long period of silence, and Maria is certain the noblewoman has seen through her.

"Charming," Lady Claes drones, "but no. I urgently need to return to the academy."

Maria relaxes upon hearing those words, only to immediately tense up again as their meaning becomes clear. "Is something wrong, Lady Claes?" she asks, boots splattering in the mud as she steps closer to the carriage.

Lady Claes glares at her. "Yes," she replies, not expanding further. "I need to know a way to get past the creek."

Maria shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Lady Claes, but it's not possible. You'd have to detour back up the road and head over to Bridgeton to get past the waters, and that'd take a day longer than just waiting here."

The noble lady hisses under her breath, and momentarily ducks into the carriage. There's murmuring as another voice joins Katarina's in discussing something. After a few moments, the lady once again pokes her head out, looking incredibly annoyed.

"It appears you are correct, Miss Campbell."

"Sorry again," Maria says, giving Lady Claes a sympathetic smile. "I know it's not what you wanted to hear."

The noble lady sighs as she slumps against the carriage window sill. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Maria frowns, wringing her hands as she tries to think of something to say.

The noble lady perks up quickly, however. "Ah! Miss Campbell. You said earlier that you'd be willing to let me stay at your house?"

She nods. "Yes, you're welcome to stay the night with me." She's sure Mom won't mind. Probably. "We have a guest bedroom," she adds. "You'll have to set it up, because it hasn't been used in a while, but it's a spare bed!"

The image of Lady Claes lying next to her in the same bed flashes through her mind. Her cheeks burn as she dispels the scandalous thought. She's clearly been spending too much time around Lord Keith!

The noble lady tilts her head, eyes flitting to the inn. "Hmm…"

"A-Ah!" Maria stutters. "W-We also have sweets!"

Lady Claes' eyes widen, and she turns her attention back to her. "Sweets, you say?"

Maria nods her head.

Lady Claes' expression falls. "Oh right. Your sweets. I almost forgot."

Maria arches an eyebrow. Before she has time to question the noble lady on her odd choice of words, she's interrupted.

"I suppose it would still be better than the inn," the lady says, glancing skeptically at the rickety wooden building down the street.

Maria can't hold back the smile on her face. "Thank you, Lady Claes," she says, bowing her head. She then turns to face down the road. "If your carriage driver would follow me, I can lead you there."

---

"This is a house?"

In truth, the two-story tall sturdy-looking brick building is not nearly as bad as she'd feared after seeing the state of the inn. Yet it still manages to underwhelm her, all the same.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Lady Claes," Maria murmurs. "I forgot you wouldn't be used to something like this…"

She looks down at the ground. The path is still muddy from the rain. She sighs as she steps off the carriage and hears the ground squelch beneath her boots. Fantastic. She'll have to have them cleaned later – maybe even buy replacements.

She takes a few noisy steps forward, cringing at the squishing sound that rings out each time. Judging by the racket behind her, Miss Campbell and Anne are not having better luck. She feels a tiny bit of relief as she finally makes it to the stone steps, and takes no time scraping her boots against the door mat, frowning at the smears of brown they leave behind.

"Ah! Lady Claes!" shouts Miss Campbell, running up the steps behind her. "Let me get that for you!"

She steps out of the way as the commoner pulls open the wooden door, and steps into the doorway.

"Oh, uh, Lady Claes?"

She sighs, turning to face Miss Campbell, who immediately withers under her gaze.

"Sorry, it's just… could you please leave your boots by the door?"

She scoffs. "I'm not a savage, Miss Campbell."

She crouches down to the floor and undoes her laces, stepping out of the boots as she stands up. Anne nods at her and quickly follows suit, leaving four pairs of muddied leather boots by the doorway. Miss Campbell smiles at them as she closes the door, then crouches down to the floor as she removes her own.

Looking at the hallway, Katarina is unsurprised at the house's interior. The walls are plain plaster, unadorned with intricate designs or bright colors, and the flooring is made from dull polished wood. It's exactly the kind of place she imagines a commoner would live.

"It's very empty," she eventually says, for the lack of activity unnerves her. She's used to the bustle of servants, the swishing of uniforms, and the clinking of glass and porcelain.

Miss Campbell sighs, moving to her feet even as her eyes stay glued to the floor. "We don't get many visitors, Lady Claes."

Katarina raises an eyebrow at that. Does she really expect her to believe she has not already seduced half the town?

The commoner just shakes her head. "My mom's out to market, so it's a little quieter than usual."

"Well, is your father home?"

There's a pause. "Excuse me for a moment, Lady Claes," the commoner replies, voice shaky.

Miss Campbell ducks through the doorway and disappears. Anne turns toward Katarina with a stern expression.

Katarina blinks. "What?"

Anne opens her mouth to speak, but at that moment Miss Campbell reappears.

"Sorry about that," she says, smiling as she clasps her hands together. "I had to go get the fire started. Please, come in!"

---

Katarina frowns as Anne walks through the door with her luggage, the sounds of thunder and rain ceasing as she pushes the door shut. Her uniform's dripping wet.

"What happened?" she says, rising to her feet as Anne drops her bags by the door.

"Apologies, my lady," she replies, bowing even as water drips from her head. "It started raining again as I was unpacking."

Katarina looks over her maid, frown deepening. "This won't do at all. Come stand by the fireplace."

She bows again. "As you wish."

As Anne walks forward, Katarina thinks for a moment. The appearance of her uniform, sopping wet and crumpled, reminds her of her textbook from yesterday.

"Say, Anne," she says, interrupting her maid's attempts dry off by the fire. "Come over here, actually. I have a better idea."

Anne looks at her somewhat warily, but nods and steps towards her. Katarina walks toward her and places her arms on her shoulders. She's shivering.

"Okay, stand still for a moment," Katarina says, before closing her eyes and thinking back to the library yesterday.

She holds the image of Anne's dress in her mind and mutters the incantation. Immediately, she feels the magic flow through her hands. It's a soothing feeling, like dipping a hand into running water. As the spell continues to draw on much longer than it did with the textbook, however, Katarina feels the stream dry up, and the sensation becomes unpleasant. The spell is not done, and it continues to draw on magic that no longer wishes to flow.

She grits her teeth as the once-pleasant sensation begins to turn into agonizing heat, but thankfully, just as the last trickles of magic sputter out of her palms, the spell comes to its end.

Dizzily, she opens her eyes, revealing a wide-eyed Anne looking at her now-pristine uniform in disbelief. She turns to Katarina in confusion.

"My lady?"

Katarina smiles, even as her vision swims.

"Ah! A restoration spell?" adds another voice. "That's very clever, Lady Claes!"

She frowns as she staggers towards Miss Campbell, who is now dressed in a very plain-looking orange dress that (in Katarina's opinion) shows a scandalous amount of leg. Perhaps it is a commoner thing.

Of course she looks good in it. Did she honestly expect any different? Miss Campbell could wear a potato sack and make it look stylish.

Katarina scowls and takes a shaky step towards her chair, before collapsing on the ground.

"L-Lady Claes!?"

"Katarina!"

She groans as she feels two pairs of arms wrap around her, the surrounding voices fading in and out as she clings to consciousness.

"Miss Campbell! Do you know what's happening to Lady Katarina?"

"It looks like she's suffering from magic exhaustion, but I'm not sure…"

"You're not sure?"

"I-I've never experienced it myself!"

She barely feels it as they drape her across a chair. The voices face away as the soft fabric envelops her body.

---

Maria places her hand against the limp form of the noble lady and closes her eyes, letting loose a bit of the warmth building up at her fingertips. Instantly, Lady Claes' body unfurls in her mind's eye. The lady's core is dim – much dimmer that Maria would've anticipated – and the streams of magic that should've been surrounding it have been reduced to isolated droplets. Just what had Lady Claes been doing before coming here, that a single restoration spell would exhaust her so?

She pulls back her magic and opens her eyes as she turns to the lady's maid. "I definitely think this is magic exhaustion."

The maid nods, looking at her with wide brown eyes. "Can you do something?"

Maria feels something stir within her. That's right! Lady Claes is depending on her! She nods confidently. "I'll try!"

The maid nods at her, before letting go of her hand and stepping back to give her space.

Maria takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes and returns to the connection. She summons the warmth from her body and begins threading it through her fingers, letting a trickle of light magic flow into the unconscious noble's body.

As she expected, the light magic doesn't flow into the noble's physical being. There is no damage to Lady Claes. Instead, it begins to pool around her fingers, slowly flowing through the valleys and channels of Lady Claes' immaterial being.

She halts the flow of new magic, calling on the portion within the noble's body to move and spread out. It resists her commands, flowing like honey instead of water, but Maria dares not apply anything but the lightest force. This is delicate work.

When her light magic reaches the first drops of Katarina's earth magic, the two mix. The diluted light magic slips from her grasp, but begins to flow more quickly as it spreads throughout the noble and encounters more earth magic, until the previously-viscous magic begins to flow freely.

Finally, with apprehension, she watches at the flow approaches the core. She steels herself, ready to pull back her magic at the first sign of trouble. Thankfully, there's no reaction at all when the mixture brushes against the lady's core. Indeed, the core doesn't seem to react to its presence at all. Maria sighs in relief as she gently guides the flow through the rest of the channels. The streams are shallow and thin, but it should hopefully be enough.

She smiles as she opens her eyes and turns to the lady's maid. "It's done."

The maid looks on in awe, and Maria's smile falter: She recognizes that expression. However, the maid soon recovers, a small smile on her face as she bows toward her. "Thank you, Miss Campbell."

"It's no trouble at all, Miss…"

"Shelley. But please call me Anne."

Maria shakes her head. "I prefer Miss Shelley."

The maid frowns as she tilts up from a bow, but pauses upon looking at her face. "Very well, Miss Campbell."

Maria tries to flash a smile, and hopes it doesn't come off as insincere.

Lady Claes begins to stir not long after. "Ughhh," she groans, rubbing her eyes as she sits up from the chair. "I feel weird."

"My Lady," begins Miss Shelley, moving to help her charge up. "Are you alright?"

Lady Claes frowns at her arm as she shakes it. "I feel… bubbly."

"You were suffering from magic exhaustion." Maria moves toward her, trying to sound confident. "I used some of my light magic to try and help you recover more quickly."

Lady Claes arches an eyebrow at her, eyes widening slightly. "You did?"

Maria nods, a little disheartened by the lady's reaction. Why is she always so surprised by her help? "Miss Shelley and I were worried about you," she adds.

Even as the maid nods in agreement, her expression remains neutral.

Lady Claes continues to stare at Maria. "Is that why my magic feels… off?"

Maria nods. "I think so. You probably shouldn't try calling on it, since it's mostly my light magic in there right now."

For a single second, Lady Claes' eyes light up with curiosity. A moment later, she shakes her head, and her gaze returns to normal. "I will take your word for it, Miss Campbell."

"Lady Katarina," Miss Shelley interjects.

Both pairs of eyes turn to her.

"If you are feeling well, may I have permission to set up the guest bedroom?"

Lady Claes nods. "Yes. You are dismissed, Anne."

Miss Shelley bows quickly before turning out of the kitchen and disappearing into the hallway. A few moments later, Maria can hear her ascending up the stairs.

"You really care about her, don't you?" Maria says, smiling at the noble lady as she moves towards the kitchen to grab the sweets she'd prepared earlier.

"I do not believe that is any of your concern," Lady Claes growls behind her.

Maria just smiles as she returns with the plate of sweets and places it down on the table. She lowers herself into the chair across from Katarina. "I could tell she was happy when she saw her uniform. A bit surprised, but happy."

Lady Claes looks between her and the sweets, evaluating each. Her expression softens. "Yes, well, it doesn't appear I will be repeating that feat."

Maria shakes her head. "Just don't use so much magic ahead of time."

Lady Claes scowls. "I didn't."

There's a feeling of shattering glass as Maria realizes she's misread the situation.

"Oh," she replies, looking down at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity."

There's a long period of silence.

"Y-You know, everyone's magic is a little different," Maria stutters, looking up at the noble lady with as much conviction she can muster. "Maybe you just haven't found your talent yet?"

Lady Claes scoffs. "Keith can toss a boulder through a wall with the same amount of effort it takes me to raise a mound of dirt." She glares at her. "Do not insult me with banal pleasantries."

Her cold blue eyes are as daunting as ever, and Maria is once again forced to look away.

"Sorry. I just… don't know what to say."

When she works up the courage to look at her again, the lady's turned her attention to the sweets.

"There is nothing to say. You are blessed. I am not."

Maria has trouble comprehending the lady's words. Her light magic has hardly proven to be a blessing, in her view. However, to Lady Claes, who evidently does not have much power to her name? She supposes such a person might think she is very blessed indeed. Still, she shakes her head. "I don't think I am blessed, Lady Claes, but I'm happy I was able to help you."

Lady Claes looks at her skeptically as she finally reaches down and grabs a sweet from the plate. "It's not just your magic," she says, waving the bar in her hand. "You're gorgeous, and charming, and smart, and…" She pauses, taking a bite and swallowing, looking somewhat annoyed. "…Evidently not bad at baking."

Maria's cheeks burn at the lady's compliments. Does Lady Claes really think so highly of her? "Ah, b-but, I d-didn't bake that," she stutters.

The noble lady seems surprised. "Truly?"

Maria nods.

Lady Claes shrugs, placing the half-eaten bar back on the plate. "Then I suppose I may as well admit I was actually a little disappointed."

Maria crinkles her nose; certain she missed some part of the conversation. "Lady Claes? Are you saying you'd like me to make some sweets for you?"

The noble lady shrugs again. "If you wish."

Maria can't tell whether or not Lady Claes actually wants sweets and is too embarrassed to ask, or whether she's just being polite.

"I can try," she says, looking carefully at the lady's expression to try and gauge her reaction, "but I don't think they'll stack up to the sweets you normally have."

Lady Claes is completely inscrutable as she watches her with cold blue eyes. "If you say so, Miss Campbell."

Maria shakes her head as she moves to her feet, still not sure if the lady actually wants sweets or not, but not willing to offend her. "I'll go get the fire started."

The noble lady's eyes follow her as she stands up from the chair.

Even now, she really doesn't understand nobles at all.

---

Maria's just finished putting the tray in the oven when she feels Lady Claes' breath on her nape. She fights back a blush as she realizes the noble lady has been standing behind her.

"I never knew how much work went into baking," she says wistfully. "I thought you just put the ingredients together and put them in the oven."

Maria slides off the mittens and places them on the counter, before turning to face her. "Well, that's not really wrong…"

The lady nods. "I know. But there's clearly more to it than that. I could tell you knew what you were doing, too." She sighs, crossing her arms. "I don't know why I thought I could beat you."

Maria frowns. "Lady Claes. It makes me happy to hear you compliment me like that, but I think that's kept me from noticing something." Her expression softens as she glances away. "When you say nice things about me, you always put yourself down afterwards. Like you don't measure up."

There's silence. Maria wishes she had the courage to look Lady Claes in the eyes and see her expression. Instead, she takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't want to think that I'm making you feel bad about yourself."

Another period of silence. She doesn't dare look at her now. It's hard enough to continue as-is.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't feel like that, Lady Claes." She places a hand against her chest. "I shouldn't make you feel like that."

"I don't understand," Lady Claes says softly. "It's just the way things are. I can't compete with you."

Maria finally works up the nerve to look the noble lady in the face, and is met with a despondent expression. Her heart hurts to see Lady Claes like this.

"Lady Claes," she says, feeling a sudden burst of energy. "You did better in the exams than I did; better than your fiancé did. I think that's worth a little pride."

Her expression turns dark. "Do not patronize me!"

"I'm not."

The noble lady shakes her head. "It's not like it is for you. I've seen you in the library. You just write things down as you go through the book, and that's enough. I have to work all day and all night to hammer the material into my head through repetition, and I've already gone through all of it before!"

"Learning doesn't come as naturally to some of us," Maria replies, offering a sympathetic smile. "That doesn't make you worth any less as a person."

Her nose wrinkles and she leans forward. "Then tell me. Tell me exactly what I'm supposed to be so good at, Miss Campbell."

And she has to break eye contact again, because her cheeks flush at the thought of what she's about to say. "I-I think you're very kind, Lady Claes. It's hard for you, and it doesn't come naturally, but you've been doing your best to help me."

There's again silence, and Maria feels her cheeks grow warmer. "I know that might sound strange, because you've been… s-short with me at times…" she says, before feeling a burst of conviction as she stares into Lady Claes' wide azure eyes, "but even though you have every reason to be upset and act coldly towards me, you've done your best to help me anyway." She smiles. "I can tell you're really good-natured."

"I… am?"

Maria looks down and clasps her hands together. "I mean, I ruined your relationship with Gerald, so I understand. A-And I didn't mean to – I really didn't – but that doesn't change what happened, does it?" She can feel the lady's eyes on her. "I suppose what I'm saying is… not everyone could try to be kind to someone who hurt them like that, even on accident."

The noblewoman is glancing away from her once Maria musters the courage to face her again.

"Why are you so different?" Lady Claes mutters.

Maria tilts her head. "What?"

Lady Claes' eyes widen as she snaps back towards her. "Nothing. Never-mind that."

"A-Anyway," Maria continues, fighting back the anxiety in her chest, "I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you if you need me, Lady Claes. S-So…" She leans forward, grasping the lady's hands. "May I please call you Lady Katarina?"

The noble lady flushes red as she tilts away, and her hands slip from hers as she stumbles backwards. "W-What?"

She quickly grabs the lady's arm, keeping her from falling over. "It's selfish of me, I know. But I still really want to be friends with you, Lady Claes." Her cheeks are still burning as she turns away. "A-And, I want to understand you better; to know why you chose to be kind to me…"

A cold hand grabs her chin, and the lady gently turns her head to face her. Maria's heart beats so loudly she's certain Lady Claes will hear it, and she shivers as Lady Claes' sharp blue eyes stare into her own.

It has taken her some time to come to terms with this part of herself, entranced as she had been by Prince Gerald and Lord Keith. Even when her affections toward the third prince waned, the Claes heir still tormented her daydreams. It was only when Lady Claes started appearing in his place in those same fantasies that Maria realized she held affections for the lady beyond simple gratitude.

Lady Claes claims she isn't beautiful. Maria knows otherwise.

Though Maria wishes she wouldn't, the noble lady eventually lets go of her. Maria braces herself against the table, head still spinning.

Lady Claes sniffs the air. "What are you baking again?"

"C-Cookies," Maria replies, suddenly wishing she'd used the heart-shaped cutter to make this batch.

The corners of Lady Claes' lips perk up almost imperceptibly. "They smell like the ones our scullery maid used to make."

Maria furrows a brow. "Don't you have personal chefs for that?"

Lady Claes stares off into the distance. "We do, but hers were special. She used to make them for me before—" The smile disappears from her face. "Never-mind. I do not know why I am telling you this."

Maria's expression falls. "Sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of a bad memory. Baking reminds me of happier times as well."

The noblewoman blinks. "It does? Why don't you do it at school, then?"

Her eyes widen and she immediately covers her mouth, but Maria doesn't mind the question.

"I got the kitchen workers in trouble doing it once. The baking club found out I was using some of their ingredients."

"Oh. That's surprising." The lady cringes as she realizes her words came off as sarcastic. She waves her gloved hands frantically. "W-What I meant to say was—!"

"No, no, it's okay," Maria interrupts, smiling sadly. "You're right: I should've realized I'd get caught. I mean, the kitchen workers said I could probably get the rules changed, since I'm on the council, but…" She shakes her head. "I was just being selfish."

There's a long pause. The lady turns away. "You could've gotten the rules changed at any time," she mutters, eyes wide. "There was nothing stopping you."

Maria once again feels like she's missed a part of the conversation. "Lady Claes?"

The lady turns to her in stunned disbelief, and says in a quiet voice, "You're really not faking it, are you?"

Maria blinks. "I don't understand the question."

Then, quickly – a little too quickly – Lady Claes recomposes herself. "Never-mind that," she says, tilting her head up in a haughty gesture. "I was simply thinking out loud."

Maria sighs, but smiles. She really doesn't understand Lady Claes at all.

She'd like to.

---

The timer goes off, and Maria dons her oven mittens before opening the oven and pulling out the tray. Placing it on the counter, she slips off the mittens and slides them back into the drawer, before reaching down and using a bucket of water to douse the fire underneath the stove. Dropping the empty bucket onto the floor, she returns to the counter and prepares to move the cookies onto a plate.

A strange idea comes to her as she reaches for the cabinet, and she pauses, before instead opening a drawer and taking out a bag of pink icing. She feels its weight in her hand before glancing back to Lady Claes, who's sitting quietly near the fireplace. Her heart skips a beat as the orange light flickers across the lady's features.

Maria turns back to the cookies and draws a pink heart on top of each, cheeks flushing red as she does.

Once she's prepared the table, she calls over Lady Claes, and the two sit across from each other.

Lady Claes looks at the plate of cookies with some hesitation, and Maria nervously tugs on the orange fabric of her skirt. Has she been too forward?

However, the lady either doesn't notice her message or doesn't care, because she cautiously picks a cookie off the plate and takes a small bite. Her eyes light up, and she consumes the rest in another.

Then, she smiles.

Not the vicious grin she often wears. Not the fake smile she plasters on for social events. A real, genuine, radiant smile, eyes sparkling with warmth and affection, and it's directed at her.

Maria quietly grabs the underside of the table as her heart pounds, face burns, and head swims, but she doesn't dare look away. She wants to burn this image into her brain forever.

"These are amazing!" Lady Claes says, voice full of delight. "Thank you, Maria!"

Maria sighs wistfully, smiling in return as she closes her eyes and tilts her head forward. "I'm truly glad you like them, Lady Claes."

Her eyes fly open as reality intrudes on her fantasy.

"Ah, Lady Claes… did you call me Maria?"

The lady's eyes go wider than Maria's ever seen them go before, and she freezes in place.

Maria makes a placating gesture with her hands. "Ah! I'm not angry, Lady Claes. Just wondering if—"

"I suppose," she drawls, rolling her eyes. "It is only fair."

If Maria had not been holding the table, she surely would've slumped back in her chair and fainted. As it is, as she stares into the noblewoman's not-so-icy blue eyes, she knows there's no-one else for her.

"Thank you, Lady Katarina."

The noblewoman blushes slightly. "D-Don't look at me like that!" she whines. "I-I'll tell you to stop calling me Lady Katarina!"

Maria just giggles.

Lady Katarina's still smiling.

---

Notes

You thought it was [Keith subplot resolution], but it was I, YURI LOVE!

Don't worry, we'll be back to the academy soon, but... well here's a breather episode.

This MEGACHAPTER took a very long time to write. It's the main reason for the gap between 14 and 15, as I was working on the two simultaneously. Hope you enjoy the 6k words, and there goes my buffer.

 

[QTesseract]

You thought it was [Keith subplot resolution], but it was I, YURI LOVE!

Click to shrink...

Trading out something of low value for something precious. Truly, Maria is the heroine we need. And the heroine Katarina needs.

 

[Shanejayell]

I did wonder if Keith left the dirt key intact on purpose. Added messing with Kat's head?

Aw, Maria.

 

[LuciDreamer]

Oh gosh darnit, what have you done to me. I've been caught in a spell, I have, and now I'm going to be positively glued to this thread until it's resolution.

I haven't been this invested in a romance story since...! Well. Not for a while, at any rate.

 

[jadebenn]

Oh gosh darnit, what have you done to me. I've been caught in a spell, I have, and now I'm going to be positively glued to this thread until it's resolution.

I haven't been this invested in a romance story since...! Well. Not for a while, at any rate.

Click to shrink...

Unfortunately, we're almost caught up. Fortunately, I'll go ahead and put up the next chapter for you.

 

[jadebenn]

Chapter 17: Variance​

---

Katarina stares up at the ceiling as she lies on the guest bed, unable to sleep. Blue light filters through the curtains as crickets chirp in the distance.

Here she is, trying to sleep in the house of her greatest enemy, as Keith most likely goes through her things and looks for evidence to damn her. How had it come to this? With nothing else to occupy her thoughts, she's forced to reflect on that question.

The blonde light mage was nothing less than the most despicable creature to ever walk the Earth. The source of her misery, that peasant had used her guiles to steal her fiancé away from her, and then had the gall to act oh-so-innocent whenever she'd confront her. She'd not realized that she'd been playing into her oh-so-elegant trap. The others had been turned against her as she'd unwittingly played the villainess to her heroine.

Prince Gerald, the man Katarina had spent her entire life trying to show her love to, had barely spent a week with the girl before she realized she was losing him. It hadn't even taken a year for him to turn on her completely, and took merely a few more days for him to be driven to kill her.

She pauses, chest tightening as she rubs a hand across where the wound should be. Even if the commoner had perhaps regretted it in her final moments, and even if she perhaps hadn't intended it like she'd assumed, there was no question that the light mage was her enemy.

At least… the previous one was.

She casts off her bedsheets and moves to her feet, the cool wood creaking beneath her as she drops onto the floor. She paces around the room as she thinks.

Maria is different. Even if she shares the harlot's name and appearance, she doesn't act like her at all. Where the light mage had hypocritically berated her for not 'letting out' Gerald from their engagement, Maria rebuffs his advances. Where the peasant cruised along on natural ability, Maria is a hard worker. Where the commoner avoided her presence, Maria actively seeks her out.

It's baffling. Why is she different?

It can't be the bullying. Even without her presence, that has continued. It may have been under her (un)watchful eye at first, but it's now entirely out of her control. It also doesn't explain her disinterest in Gerald. Is it the baking? That doesn't make any sense either. If anything, Maria seems to be more eager to be around her since she'd baked those cookies.

Katarina pauses.

No. The peasant may have been her enemy, but Maria isn't. Some part of Katarina resists admitting it even now, but it's the only logical explanation. The two are fundamentally different. They must be.

Maria has proven herself as an ally. Katarina would be a fool to reject her assistance, especially when that alternate version of her played such a large role in her demise. Maria may not be the master manipulator she'd thought, but she does seem to have a knack for getting people on her side. If she can use those abilities to her benefit instead…

She shakes her head. Perhaps that's too optimistic. It's certainly not something she can rely on. Still, it's certainly not in her best interest to handicap her ally's abilities.

Truthfully, she's been unfair to her.

Katarina nods her head, resolving a course of action, and then finds her thoughts in disarray as she sees what's at her feet.

Anne breathes softly at the foot of her bed. To Katarina's displeasure, her companion has insisted on sleeping on the floor, stating that it is 'improper' for them to share a bed.

It's surprising how young she looks. Without the black-and-white uniform of her position, she can easily be mistaken for an older sibling. Katarina finds it baffling she hasn't been married yet. Are all men as pigheaded as Gerald?

The answer comes to her as her companion quietly rolls on the floor. Even in the pale moonlight, dark splotches can be seen at the edges of Anne's loose-fitting nightgown. Her long sleeves slide down her arms, revealing patches of mottled skin. The edges of her collar reveal hints of a similar disfigurement on her back.

It's not as though Katarina is unaware of Anne's scarring – she hadn't exactly been tactful when she'd caught her first glimpse of it at the tender age of eight – but it's an unwelcome reminder of how easy it is to fall from grace.

Anne, however she carries herself, is nobility. Lesser nobility, yes, but nobility all the same. Yet instead of living the high life she rightfully deserves, she's been reduced to working as a servant in their home simply because of a freak accident.

How arrogant has she been to assume Prince Gerald wouldn't discard her all the same? How stupid is she to think her position really means anything? Katarina may be the daughter of a duke and not some lowly baron, but at the end of the day, she and Anne are kindred spirits. They've both been discarded by the ones they loved when they no longer served their purpose.

It's that realization that ends up sealing her decision. Katarina lowers herself onto the cold wooden floor and lies down next to Anne, gently adjusting the blanket as she curls up beside her. It's a nostalgic feeling; As a child, she'd sneak into her room whenever her parents' arguments became too heated.

She feels her eyes slowly draw close as Anne's presence allows her to relax. Then Anne stirs, and Katarina feels an arm wrap around her chest as she's pulled into a warm embrace. She glances to her companion, but she's still fast asleep.

It's so childish of her to find comfort in this physical affection. She's sixteen. She should be above such things. Yet as she closes her eyes and feels Anne's body pressing against her back, she can't bother to care.

The last thing she thinks before sleep overtakes her mind is that no matter how much her companion deserves a life of luxury and leisure, she's grateful that Anne is by her side.

---

Celia realizes something is wrong as soon as her house comes into view. There's an ornate carriage in the front yard, hitched to two well-bred horses as a man – who on closer inspection appears to be the carriage driver – loads bags into the passenger compartment.

She hurries her pace, barely holding onto her paper bags as the still-wet road splashes beneath her.

Is it the Ministry again? The Crown? The carriage does look quite fancy. Her eyes widen. Or can it be one of the nobles who'd wanted to adopt? Has Maria taken one up on their offer? She'd not been a good parent for even considering it all those years ago, but she'd come to her senses and told them off. Has Maria found out about those dealings? Has she gone to someone who can provide what she cannot?

After all, what good is a mother who cannot even bear to look her child in the eye?

She shakes her head as she passes by the carriage in a panic, rushing towards the open wooden door. No, no. She needs to stay calm. It's probably just another Ministry visit, or message from the Crown. Entities that would have no interest in her or her daughter, if not for the magic she wields.

However, the sight that greets her upon stepping through the doorway and rounding the corner into the living room is none of those things.

A brown-haired woman in a maid's uniform stands off to the side, holding a platter with a tea kettle on top. In the seat beside her is a brunette woman whose jewels and dress scream 'noble,' enjoying a cup of tea with her eyes locked on the chair across from her. Maria, her daughter, is daintily sipping from a teacup, evidently the object of the noblewoman's attention.

The noblewoman lowers her teacup. "How is it?"

Her daughter grimaces as she lowers hers. "It's very… strong."

The brunette nods. "You get used to it after a while."

Then, the most surprising thing of all happens: Her daughter smiles at the lady. "I suppose I will."

Celia can only stare at the scene before her. How long has it been since she's seen Maria genuinely smile?

The maid's brown eyes meet hers, and she raises her fist and coughs quietly. "My Lady, I believe there is someone you should see."

The two of them turn to the maid, then to her. She has to look away as Maria's soft blue eyes meet her own.

"Oh." There's a quiet pause. "Hello, Mom."

She continues staring at the floor. "Hello, Maria."

Celia's about to move to the counter and place down her bags when she sees a shadow cross the floor. She looks up, seeing the brunette noblewoman from earlier eyeing her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Campbell," the noble says, dropping into a curtsy. "Your daughter graciously allowed me to spend the night."

"Oh." She's really not sure how else she's supposed to respond to that.

"My name is Katarina Claes," the noble continues, "daughter of Duke and Duchess Claes. I would like to thank you and your daughter for your hospitality."

Celia feels her heart stop. A duke's daughter is inside her house. Will she even be able to refuse a request made by the family of Duke Claes, if she truly is here to take Maria away?

"Is she alright?" asks the noblewoman, looking at her strangely. "She's gone pale."

Celia shakes her head and bows. "My apologies, Lady Claes," she says, hoping she'd gotten the title right.

"Do not be alarmed, Mrs. Campbell. I am not here in an official capacity."

She doesn't relax, though. She can't ignore the possibility. Why else would a Duke's daughter be here, talking to Maria so casually?

"I-If I may, Lady Claes," she says, working up the courage to look the noble in the eyes. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"

She nearly does a double-take as she sees a flash of pink in the corner of her eye. Did Maria just blush?

Lady Claes, however, just seems confused. "As I said, I have none. She just let us stay the night while we were cut off by the river."

Celia nods slowly, feeling herself relax. Yes, she'd been on the wrong side of the creek when the storm had rolled in. It was the reason she'd stayed the night at the inn a town over. "I see."

"Anyway, do not worry, as we will be leaving shortly."

"Ah! Lady Katarina!" exclaims her daughter, placing her teacup down and leaping from her seat.

Celia's heart stills as she hears her daughter address the noblewoman so casually, but Lady Claes doesn't appear to mind.

"Yes, Maria?"

"Please visit again soon!"

Maria steps close to Lady Claes, and Celia's eyes widen as she realizes her daughter is indeed blushing.

The brunette purses her lips. "I… cannot make promises, Maria."

Her daughter frowns, but Lady Claes holds up a finger and continues.

"Besides, we will see each other at the academy."

Her daughter grins, and the pink re-appears on her cheeks. "I suppose you're right."

Celia blinks. This can't be what she thinks it is, can it? The look in her daughter's eyes… She cringes slightly as the memory of his blushing smile returns to her, and she shakes it away.

The noblewoman and her maid quietly thank her again, and file out the door. It's only when it shuts that she has a moment to talk.

"Ah!" says Maria, eyes wide. "I need to go see her off!"

Celia drops her bags and grabs Maria by the shoulder as she attempts to run to the door. Her daughter goes limp at her touch.

"Maria," she says, her daughter still staring at the door to her side. "Can you please explain what's going on?"

"I'm sorry," Maria replies quietly. "I know I shouldn't have assumed you'd be okay with guests, but—"

She turns to toward her daughter, still not looking above the top of her dress. "You know that is not what I mean."

Her daughter stiffens at her question, and Celia sighs, that alone being answer enough.

"How long?"

"A-About a week."

Celia sighs again. Young love. "Does she know?"

"I- I don't know, Mom," she eventually replies. "Sometimes I think she does, like when she held me in front of the dorms, but then she'll be acting cold to me the next day…"

"Acting cold to you?" Celia looks up in shock, only to realize too late that she's looking her daughter in the eyes.

"It's… complicated," Maria says, smiling weakly. "We didn't get off on the best foot."

There's no hatred in them as she feared. Just the confused gaze of a lovestruck young girl.

"Oh, my child," Celia sighs, drawing Maria into a hug. She's so tall now. When did she get so tall?

Her daughter hugs back.

"Does she make you happy?"

She feels her daughter's face rub against her own as she nods.

"Then I suppose it can't be helped."

After all, isn't that the most important thing? Even if she is nervous, and not entirely comfortable with the prospect, what kind of Mother would she be to deny her child happiness? Especially when Maria has been denied it so long already.

"Thank you, Mom," Maria whispers.

She lets go of Maria and opens the door, and her daughter stands by her side and waves goodbye to the carriage as it bounces down the road.

Celia is still worried, of course. Her own brush with love, as wonderful as it had been, did not last, and that was with a commoner man. Her daughter is evidently infatuated with a woman, and a duke's daughter at that. She's playing with fire.

Yet as her daughter continues to waves at the carriage in the distance, Celia wraps an arm around her.

Maria turns to her in surprise, but quickly grins. Her blue eyes are filled with hope.

Perhaps it's naïve of her, but in that moment, some part of Celia truly believes Maria can find the lasting happiness in love she couldn't. As she wipes her eyes and stares into her daughter's grinning face, she smiles as well.

"I love you, Mom," Maria says, before launching into an even tighter hug.

Celia looks her daughter in the eyes as she replies, "I love you too."

---

Something crawls down Katarina's skin as she looks at her dorm room. On the surface, everything is immaculate. Nothing is out of place, or not where she left it. Yet gazing around the room, her chest tightens. Something feels wrong. Had she left her pencil there? Was that piece of paper always upside-down? Had the ashes in the fireplace always been arranged like that?

Is she seeing patterns that are not there, or have her fears come to pass? It's too subtle. She can't tell if she's being paranoid or not. Part of her wishes Keith had made a mess of things, or left a calling card. At least then she'd be able to know for certain.

After a long search fails to dig up any evidence of tampering, she sighs. Even the letters in her drawer appear untouched, though it's hard to tell, considering they were already opened. Thankfully, correspondence from the baking club is not among them. She had not been so foolish to put that in ink.

Her chest hurts, and she slips the drawer shut. Written evidence or not, that had evidently not been her wisest move. With Maria as her ally (she pushes down the revulsion that statement inspires), her baking skills could have proven very useful.

Ultimately, she can't find anything that proves Keith's presence. It becomes apparent that's worse than the alternative. She doesn't know how to respond. Aside from rightfully haranguing him about breaking into her room at the manor, what is she to do if he denies any involvement? Even if he's lying, she can't prove otherwise.

As she mopes about the room, Anne enters with her luggage, placing the bags on the floor and quickly getting to work unpacking.

She's surprised when she hears another knock on the door. Anne looks up from her duties, but Katarina holds out a hand and walks toward it herself. Who could be visiting so late?

She gets her answer when she opens the door and finds the blue eyes of Prince Gerald staring into hers.

He smiles. "Ah, Katarina! I was looking for you—"

Katarina throws the door shut, dusting her hands off and turning back to the main room.

There's another knock on the door, and she groans and hunches over, her hands curling into fists. She spins around to the door, and pulls it ajar.

"Go away!" she hisses, pressing her face through the crack.

The third prince's smile does not falter. "Would another time work better for you?"

She snorts. "You can stay out there all night for all I care!"

She slams the door shut again, and Anne offers her a sympathetic look.

Katarina shakes her head as she moves to her desk, sitting down and gripping her hair as she hunches over its wooden surface.

That man is going to be the death of her.

---

Anne wakes her up early the next morning, and the two of them follow the usual routine.

The warm water of the bathtub feels heavenly on her skin as Anne runs her hands through her hair. Then, as the water slowly disappears down the drain, she steps over the ceramic wall and drips water the white tile floor. Anne takes a white towel from the rack and dries her off, discarding it and handing her bathrobe once she finishes. Finally, the two move to the vanity, where Anne begins to comb her hair as she sits and stares at her reflection in the mirror.

There's a certain precision to it all. Each movement occurs at exactly the right time, both partners in sync, as though it were a well-practiced waltz.

She muses on that last point. That would actually be a nice addition to the routine. It's a shame musicians are so pricy. She's also not exactly thrilled about the idea of some stranger getting to see her au naturale, as it were.

She frowns, the mirror repeating her displeasure. No, scratch the musician. The idea doesn't seem so appealing anymore.

Anne is different, of course. She'd grown up with her.

The first hints of sunlight begin filtering through the curtains as her companion helps her into her dress. Once Anne finishes pulling her corset tight (perhaps she'd had too many of Maria's sweets yesterday) and slides her into her familiar blue, green, and white dress, she sits her back onto the vanity and styles her hair.

Katarina tries her best to remain calm as her waking mind finally turns to the events of the past few days. The sense of impending doom barely phases her anymore. Or, perhaps more accurately, she's learned to live with it. Still, she's grateful when Anne finishes placing the blue bow in her hair and draws her into a hug.

"My Lady," she says quietly.

It's still strange, she admits. Her companion was never one for flashy shows of affection before. As she returns the gesture, however, she knows it's a change she doesn't mind.

She flashes Anne a smile once she finally pulls away from the hug. The corners of her companion's lips curl upwards in return.

"Have a pleasant day, My Lady," she says, curtsying.

As Katarina nods and turns toward the door, there's a light feeling in her chest that makes her think she can take on the world. No, it makes her know she can. She throws open the door, feeling invincible.

A haggard-looking Prince Gerald is sitting on the hallway floor across from her. Shadows underlay his eyes, and blonde stubble dots his chin.

"Good morning," he says, moving to his feet as he looks at her with a bemused smile. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd climbed out the window."

That feeling of invincibility slips through Katarina's fingers. She swears she sees the third prince's grin widen.

"I was going to ask you to a late-night stroll," he says, before gesturing to the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows, "but that appears to no longer be an option."

Katarina blinks, certain that she must still be asleep. The phantasm refuses to disappear from her vision.

"However, I believe my point has been made, so perhaps it would be prudent for me to reschedule our meeting for another time," he says, holding out a halting finger as he pauses to yawn. "I believe you should find no objection to discussing matters during our usual training time."

She doesn't even know where to start. "I don't—"

"Splendid!" he interrupts, clasping his hands together. Then, before Katarina can realize what's even happening, he takes her hand and kneels down to kiss it on the wrist. It falls limply beside her once he lets go, sensation rippling down her back.

Her mind erupts into a cacophony of emotions. He had stayed up all night for her! He had murdered her! He had actually treated her as her fiancée! He must be planning something!

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, pushing her emotions down into her chest, but by the time she opens her eyes, he's gone. His golden blonde hair and dark blue eyes linger in her mind, however, and try as she might, she's not able to blink them away.

That is the Gerald she's always wanted. That is the Gerald she'd never had. That is the Gerald she'd seen fawning over that peasant in the other world.

She blinks. Wait. The other Gerald had fallen in love with that commoner. Yet Maria is clearly not the same person. Who's to say this Gerald is either?

As hope swirls in her chest, a small part of her can't help but wonder whether this is a dream come true, or the prelude to a nightmare.

---

Notes

Gerald's come crawling back! I wonder what he's planning...

Before you go, you should also check out this omake by Santi! It's a really cute concept and I may end up adding it to fic-canon, depending on whether I can find somewhere it fits in the timeline.

For you SVers, I'm also plugging My Second-Life as an Anti-Heroine if you'd like to see a very different take on a similar premise. SkiesTowardTheSea and I both got our start in the comments of This Life as a Villainess (by Isobe), but I like to think all three of our takes on OG!Katarina have turned out quite different.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy the chapter!

 

[LuciDreamer]

Unfortunately, we're almost caught up. Fortunately, I'll go ahead and put up the next chapter for you.

Click to shrink...

Oh how dastardly of you >_>

"How long?"

"A-About a week."

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You know, I had an inkling it'd be going in this direction. This all but confirms my suspicions!

...I should probably watch the actual show. Later, though! Right now I have CS homework to finish.

 

[Shanejayell]

...I should probably watch the actual show. Later, though! Right now I have CS homework to finish.

Click to shrink...

Finish homework, then watch it.

I would say the show is MUCH sillier than this, but good.

 

[jadebenn]

...I should probably watch the actual show. Later, though! Right now I have CS homework to finish.

Click to shrink...

I would say the show is MUCH sillier than this, but good.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, Bakarina pretty much unfucks the situation she's in within the first one or two episodes. Like, she thinks she can still die, but she really can't because everyone already loves her by the time she enters the academy. It's fun, but don't expect huge dramatic stakes.

There's a spin-off manga, called Verge of Destruction, that ups the dramatic stakes a bit by having Bakarina only recover her memories and become a nice person after entering the academy, but even though she doesn't have it quite as good as in main canon (don't think anyone's fallen in love with her yet), she's still quite successfully defused most threats against her so far.

 

[cB557]

Was expecting OG Katarina to be pretty calculating, so the point where you realize that being a bit dumb was not something brought over by the reincarnation got me pretty good.

Before you go, you should also check out this omake by @Santi! It's a really cute concept and I may end up adding it to fic-canon, depending on whether I can find somewhere it fits in the timeline.

Click to shrink...

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