Emilia had spent the rest of her day after her failed interrogation fervently moping around the castle. Well, she had gotten a ticket to seeing rebellion headquarters and gained assistance in one of the missions assigned by Landervik, but it still felt like a failure. She hadn’t negotiated or done much of anything other than play with her toy blades and throw a fit when things weren’t going her way. It was an embarrassment. Her emotions had seemed to be out of touch but instead they dictated her every move. And she let it happen.
In a moment of rage she kicked the foot of her dresser, only to end up cooing as she held that foot in her hand whilst hopping back on the other. Welp, she thought, so much for controlling my emotions. But she already decided what she needs tonight. Emilia wrapped a cloak over her shoulders, pulling the hood to hang over her face. For the first time in a while, she was heading out to the local pubs.
She missed the serenity of walking the trail to town, the peaceful silence of a dark forest. Not that her overactive brain would let her just feel the moment, but it was a nice attempt. She was currently pissed at the entire world. Her mother's merciless prodding never ceased and her father’s callous silence weighed on her shoulders, hatred emanating from any interaction with either of them. The anger she felt towards them was not fiery and blazing as her anger was now, it has always been a small blue flame that burned deep in not just her heart, but theirs. Her main inlet for anger now could be delegated to Landervik, the two scheming Ladies, and herself. Landervik, for… all of that, the Ladies for getting in her way and provoking her, and herself for acting like a spoiled child.
And here she was again, out for a self indulgent night on the town because she was upset. She would go and fuck some girl, pretending to be someone else for a night. But tonight… She had a different plan. Landervik was finally off of her back, and she wouldn’t have to act not hungover at 6 in the morning for training; tonight, Emilia was drinking.
The last time she went out she had drunk one glass but, considering the size of their glasses at the cheapskate bar; she’d only ever gotten barely buzzed. She planned to get shit faced tonight. She didn’t know how much would get her shit faced, but she had her parents' fortune to pay for however many ales it would take.
Emilia burst open the pubs door, returning to her haughty persona as she made her way to the bar. To her surprise, the bar was virtually empty except for the major drunks who sat in the corners of the room babbling to themselves. She approached the bar with her hood still raised, not too confident her lack of public appearance would account for the current state of the world and castle. Henry looked up at her, his hand gripping the bar table the second he recognized that cloak.
“Henry! Truly a pleasure to see you here,” Emilia exhaled as she swung onto the bar stool, “seems no one else is here though.”
Henry looked nervous, fidgeting when she mentioned the lack of populace in the bar. He quickly began pouring her an ale before responding. “Look, Marge, you know how things have been lately. Most people are too nervous to leave their houses, some have decided working and saving money was the better option than a night out when there could be a war.”
Emilai scoffed, “A war? The vikings may be attacking but they are simply needle pricks, causing chaos for such an act of dramatics is truly stupid and infuriating.” Emilia settled in, taking the ale Henry offered her while signaling for another.
“What are you here for then?” Henry asks, probably curious to know why ‘Marge’ was staying and drinking despite the clear lack of outlets here.
“Let’s just say that the reigns are loose tonight, for once I’m here to drink.”
“Husband?”
“Not exactly,” Emilia responded as she went for the second glass, “I’m sure you’ve come to some conclusion about my line of work by now. Someone employs me.”
“Huh,” Henry’s face went odd with curiosity, “I honestly thought you were a self-employed information trader. Now I’m a little interested…”
Emilia paused her sip to respond. “Don’t get too curious, might end up dead in the dirt.”
Henry laughed but Emilia was serious, she let him have his joke though. “You are an odd one, very transparent with things that would typically get one into trouble.”
“My knifes or my homosexuality?” Emilia tilted her head sideways with inquisition, wondering where Henry was taking this.
His chubby cheeks with red as a beet, embarrassed. “Well it’s just, it’s not, well, a thing many, uh, showcase…”
Henry clearly stopped before Emilia got hostile. Emilia put down the third glass he’d preemptively made her and felt the effects immediately. Her head felt clouded and her cheeks hot. She could have stolen alcohol from the palace kitchen if she’d known the pub would be devoid of people. At this point she just felt… upset. She wanted to just go back to the palace and lie in her bed.
“You okay?” Henry asked. Emilia picked up her head to see him, confused by the blur her motions seemed to make in her eyes. It was an odd sensation, losing control like this, and Emilia wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Fine,” She said, shrugging him off, “I’ll be… on my way then…” Emilia struggled to get up but pursued, making her way to the doorway in staggers. She wasn’t sure how fast she was moving, but it felt like time elongated as she made her way out of the pub.
Then it shortened, suddenly, she was already back at the palace. She remembered the walk and knew it happened, it just felt… so much quicker. Her head was still spinning as she broke her way back into the castle. She didn’t want to pull her hood down but she also didn’t want any guards getting close and inspecting her if they didn’t recognize her in the dark.
Emilia instead opted for a backway, making her way through the courtyard that was only lit by the pale moonlight. As she walked she began to sway slightly, enjoying the lull to sleep from the flowers aroma combined with the moonlight. She was jolted back to attention when she noticed someone there with her.
Whoever it was hadn’t seen Emilia yet, but sat on one of the metal benches that were scattered throughout the gardens; they were holding a burning candle. Emilia ducked behind a bush, leaning forward as she peaked through to see who was out here in the middle of the night, it was nearly 2 in the morning.
Through the bushes she saw a femenine figure, but she couldn’t tell who it was. Emilia hadn’t realized but she leaned too far forward, falling through the bush and onto the pavement in front of the girls feet. She looked up, cheeks burning red no longer just because of the alcohol. Her face was instantly recognizable, Isabeau looked down at Emilia with an apparent shock on her face. Isabeau’s hair fell in loose frizzy ringlets around her face, accentuated by the thin dress that adorned her skin. Emilia didn’t know if it was the alcohol but she looked extremely sensual, her lips parted in wonder at the sight Emilia was in front of her.
“My… Princess?” She clearly wasn’t happy to see Emilia, but more so was confused by her current appearance. Emilia didn’t know what she looked like as the moment, but she knew it was… out of character. With great focus she managed to stagger her way back up right, looking down at Isabeau, her cloak caught in the bush behind her.
“I’m not well,” She said truthfully, “please help me to my room.” Isabeau was of lower class, Emilia drunkenly assumed she had some authority to do this. Instead she was given an incredulous look, Isabeau stood, readying herself to flee. Instinctively, Emilia reached for her hand, causing Isabeau to catch her breath.
“Please?” God if Isabeau didn’t hate Emilia she might’ve just taken this as an opportunity to get into her skirts, but through the drunken haze Emilia was still conscious of her actions; at least partially.
Despite the cold glare Isabeau gave her, she grabbed Emilia and held her arm up on her shoulder for support. They walked slowly to the West Wing, and silently until Emilia decided to speak up. “Why were you out here?” Emilia asked, slurring ‘why’ and ‘were’.
“No reason,” Isabeau huffed, “My Princess.”
“So cold,” Emilia cooed, “won’t you talk to me? A dear drunken fool?” Emilia wasn’t drunk enough to act a fool, she knew she could take advantage of this situation.
“Why would I tell you anything,” Isabeau snapped, “I can’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
“I don’t think you can throw me.” Emilia retorted, to which Isabeau went silent, clearly upset with her stupid taunts. So Emilia taunted again. “You were all over me just a night ago,” Emilia mumbled.
Isabeaus cheeks burned a deep red, “And you know the true intentions behind my actions, I don’t see why you won’t just shut up and let me take you back to your room in silence.”
“Because,” Emilia sighed, “my day was unsuccessful and so was my night. Maybe you could stay in my room with me for a few minutes, I’ll show you a night William can’t even imagine giving you.” Isabeau dropped her on the cold tiled floor, sending a jolt of pain throughout Emilia’s body.
“I’d hold back but based on what I’ve seen you’re a weak, flirty drunk,” Isabeau inhaled before she continued, “for some reason this seems like another childish outburst. Do you not think of the consequences of your actions? Of our interactions through this sticky agreement? Or do you not take a hint when someone doesn’t fucking like you.” Isabeau nearly spat the last word, causing Emilia to recoil a bit on the floor, it reminded her of her past.
“You can’t,” Emilia was breathless, “speak to me like that. You will regret that later. You will eat your fucking words.” Anger flooded Emilia, the anger she’d tried to put away, the anger she had put aside to flirt, the anger that burned profusely at her core. “I don’t understand you, or any of your acting out after acting as though breaking your indifference would kill you. But I don’t give a shit about that now, because you’re making it awfully fucking hard to do my job!”
“I don’t know why I’m doing this either,” Isabeau exclaimed, throwing her hands up, “maybe it's for just a breath of freedom and adventure before I’m locked down in a manor for the rest of my life, but, that’s been your whole life, right? Locked up in a castle, forced to follow a duty that for some reason you don’t resent. You enjoy inflicting pain, you bask in cruelty, are you a monster?”
“Shut up,” Emilia hissed, “leave me.”
Isabeau looked at her on the ground piteously. Emilia assumed she looked like hell incarnate, a fiery demon falling and clawing down anyone she can take with her. “The freedom Ayleth offered me is at your fingertips, but you choose not to reach. Instead you throw tantrums, throw knives, and throw away any chances for yourself. You were raised as a monster.”
“Why do you care?!” Emilia slurred, pissed and confused with Isabeau’s resilience.
“We could be there for eachother,” Isabeau nearly yelled, “I want to help you because you remind me of… me, I thought that… maybe we could help one another get past our obsession with duties. I don’t know why, maybe it was the day you hesitated in the hallway or maybe when you threw a fit in the library. Times that you showed me you were… human. You captured my interest.” Isabeau looked tired after she finished, not bothering to listen she turned and left.
Emilia didn’t remember getting to her room, but she remembered trashing it. She threw her furniture down, splintering the wood. Each dress tore so easily with the cut of her knife, each curtain shred with so few cuts. So much pain, so much rage; Emilia couldn’t comprehend it. Never would she be happy. But tomorrow the Queen would scold her for the mess and order new possessions for the palace. Tomorrow this would get covered, go away, but the scars that were buried deep in Emilia wouldn’t; except they weren’t really scars. They were still tender to the touch, bruised, and bleeding beneath the surface. She didn’t know what it would take to bandage them.
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