Fated Across Worlds

The Oddball Princess (2)

But… well… not that that was strictly a bad thing.

The maids were slightly more attentive as they helped Hilde back to her chair.

Under normal circumstances, she would not have accepted assistance on any account, but the effects of the last concoction she drank were long gone, and it was all she could do not to collapse. She closed her eyes against the burst of pain that the impact of her rump meeting the seat had caused, silently cursing the timing of her consciousness's arrival to this world.

Couldn’t “she” have arrived here while Hilde was safely and comfortably asleep in her bed?

Preoccupied since earlier, Hilde didn't notice how Lady Ilse had been observing her again. The older woman's expression had softened at the sight of the girl's smile earlier, as well as at her strange enthusiasm for something everyone else just took for granted. 

In those moments, Hilde had displayed a striking resemblance to Lady Ilse's late husband, the man whom, even now, so many years later, she still loved and dearly missed.

When she saw Hilde's grimace of pain next, Lady Ilse's frown returned.

She addressed one of her maids: "See if the physician can give her something that's only for pain." To another, she said: "Have the coachman bring the carriage to the entrance. If she's ready, bid Gisela await us there." Finally, to the third one, she said while pointing an emphatic finger at what she was addressing: "Fix that hair."

The orders were followed at once and to the letter. With gentle, practiced hands, the third maid went to work brushing and arranging Hilde's wavy, silver-blonde locks into a swept-back style that still fell freely down her back.

Lady Ilse eyed Hilde critically, then she observed, "It is not a happy color in any sense, but gray brings out your eyes." 

She paused. She had nearly added, "It suits you," but just managed not to. Though she'd have meant it as a compliment, she superstitiously thought it could just as easily be a curse. Who would want to be told they looked good in mourning? 

In the end, Lady Ilse merely repeated, "You are still a princess."

Hilde could not figure out how the statement related to the one before, and she was also left feeling slightly uncomfortable. What did being "a princess" even mean?

The third maid finished her task just as the other two returned. The first handed Hilde a vial of something that the physician said could take the edge off her pain but might worsen her dizziness. 

She gulped it down. 

She then accepted the second maid's help to stand up so they could all go to where the carriage waited. It only needed boarding now; they could finally set off for Oste where people, both living and dead, were waiting.

Truthfully, Hilde didn't think anyone in the capital would have noticed, let alone cared, if her clothes didn't fit or if her hair looked a fright. She had never been accused of being beautiful. Not even as a lie.

Growing up, whenever the two were together, it was always Gisela who received comments like, "My, what a great beauty you'll grow up to be!" 

After all, her golden cousin was the daughter of Lady Ilse—the most beautiful woman in the land during her day—and the late Prince Johann, the country's most beloved royal in living memory.

Lady Ilse was still very striking, despite pushing fifty. After her husband died in battle near the end of their last war with Lys, it was famously told how suitors could barely wait for the proper mourning period to pass before they lined up for her hand.

True, most of these men had really been after the control of the domain that Prince Johann had ruled, but there were also some who had been romantically bent… and a lot more persistent.

The tragically widowed Lady had entertained none of them. She already had perfection in her kind and dashing Prince. What use could she ever have for lesser men?

Hilde recalled how some girls and grown women alike would weep whenever they told each other this tale of true love cut down before its time. She never really understood the appeal of such stories—nor the depth of the pain felt by those who actually lived them—until something similar happened to her. 

Then she came to understand.

Other than Gisela, Lothar had been the only living person who ever gave Hilde unconditional attention and care. He treated her as a friend and an equal. He never discriminated against her or treated her as less-than. It sometimes felt like he was blind to her gender, so it didn’t seem to matter to him at all that she did not behave as a proper lady should. 

Of course she loved him for it. Of course his untimely death hurt her like nothing else.

That still didn't mean she should let her emotions take over.

Didn't this also count as "endurance"? Even Lady Ilse had not been allowed by circumstances to nurse her grief for as long as she needed to. She had a child to raise, governance and politics to deal with. She alone managed what her husband had left behind, keeping it in trust for when Princess Gisela comes of age and can begin to take up her birthright, with all its accompanying responsibilities.

That's right: Gisela had always been her father's true inheritor. From infancy, she had been brought up with her future position in mind, and she’d always possessed the beauty and charm one would automatically associate with the title of "princess."

On the other hand, before the deaths, before the fall, Hilde sometimes felt that her own title was an empty one. Left to herself, she couldn't even get "the look" right. She had no position to inherit, no important role to play in the future. Even now, she was still only a spare.

Because it was not for the first time that the thought crossed her mind, the Princess felt unspeakable guilt as she headed to where the other princess waited and wondered… Why was she not Gisela?