Chapter Text
Strands of your hair fall over your face as your handmaid’s fingers undo the braids she had made the night before so you could sleep. You stare at yourself in the mirror, your skin beginning to take on a rosy hue, a natural color caused by the changing climate in the Kingdom. The cold, freezing winter was leaving, giving way to warmer, stifling temperatures. It was time to start replenishing your wardrobe.
“How would you like your hair today, Your Highness?” Shoko’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts about your closet. You look at her through the mirror. It was hot, and the less hair brushing against your face, the better.
“I would like it all tied up,” you reply, already knowing the answer that awaited you.
“Hair fully tied is only for servants, Your Highness. A noblewoman’s power lies in her hair.”
You sigh. “Then tie up as much as you can, Shoko, please.”
You watch as the woman nods and returns her focus to your hairstyle. Shoko had been your servant since you were little. She was not much older than you, a deliberate choice made by your father so you would feel more welcomed and comfortable. Having friendships inside the castle was safer and less dangerous than having them outside.
A few minutes later, you finish getting dressed. The dress chosen for the day is a light shade of blue, with a small neckline at the bust that gives you some relief from the heat. You leave your chambers, politely greeting the guards stationed along the corridor. One of them moves to follow you. Sir Geto, one of your personal guards.
“How has your morning been today, Sir Geto?” you ask the guard walking three steps behind you.
“Wonderfully well, Your Highness. The day is quite hot, but the Palace is calm.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” you reply as you lift your dress slightly to avoid tripping over its hem while climbing the small steps separating the east wing from the south wing of the castle.
Once you realize there is no longer any risk, you let go of the fabric and continue toward the throne room, where the petitions are held. “Is he already there?” you ask as the doors draw near.
Geto sighs, knowing exactly whom you mean. “Yes, Your Highness. Since before sunrise.”
You sigh, but continue forward as always. The guards stationed at the tall, massive doors of the throne room bow to you before opening them wide. You walk gracefully toward the throne, where your father is already seated. You bow slightly to him, then lean in to kiss his cheek, drawing a smile from him.
“My ray of sunshine, how good it is to see you this morning. Come, dear, the castle doors will soon open.”
You nod and move toward the seat beside the throne where you usually sit on petition days, until his voice makes you falter slightly.
“Your Highness.”
He was there, of course. It’s not as if you didn’t know. You had simply chosen to delay acknowledging him. Now there was no more time. You turn to him. Lord Sukuna, your father’s royal advisor, standing in his usual place to the right of the throne. You nod in acknowledgment.
“Lord Sukuna. It is a pleasure to see you well this morning.” Your voice is gentle, but not entirely sincere. A tone you learned after years and years at court. You discovered that not everyone deserved your kindness, but you could not afford to be unpleasant to those who didn’t. That realization shaped your façade. Lord Sukuna fit into that category. He did not deserve your kindness, but as the King’s advisor, he was owed respect.
The smile he gives you is cold, filled with cynical, mocking malice. He wears black, as always. You have never seen him in any other color. “Ah, Princess, the pleasure is always mine. How good that finally Your Highness has joined us.”
His cynical tone nearly makes you blush. But you compose yourself and hold his gaze for a moment. Long enough to be uncomfortable, but not long enough to be improper. You soon look away and head to your seat beside your father. The King gives the order and the day’s petitions begin. Throughout the day, many subjects come forward. Some are humble, seeking help with food. Others are malicious, arriving with intrigue or accusations against their neighbors. You and your father listen to them all with kindness and understanding.
The same cannot be said for Lord Sukuna. The Royal Advisor looks at each peasant as if they were nothing more than dirt on his boot. He has always behaved this way. Once, when you were alone with your father, you shared this observation with him. As you expected, it was something he was already aware of. The King told you Sukuna had always been like that. You should not follow his behavior, as it was completely unacceptable. You should remain kind and humble with your subjects. When you asked your father why he did not remove Sukuna’s title, since the man displeased him as well, your father’s expression soured. He told you that even as King, there were things beyond his will. You would understand one day, when you were Queen. You hoped you would, because it made no sense to you. Your father was clearly troubled by Sukuna. But Sukuna had been Royal Advisor even before you were born. Whatever reason your father had for keeping him in that position was something very serious.
Your attention is drawn to a woman who arrives holding her child. The baby is wrapped in a torn blanket, worn enough to suggest it had been used for years or taken from the trash. The woman kneels. She must be in her forties. She voices her plea. Her home was full of leaks. The summer rains had done their damage. Baby clothes and furniture were lost, along with much of their food, carried away by the water. She was on the streets, and more rain was coming. She was helpless.
“And what exactly is your request?” Sukuna’s rough, harsh voice interrupts her, making her flinch. He looks down at her with contempt as he speaks. “We’ve heard many sad stories today. Please be quick and direct.”
You turn to him, incredulous at his rudeness and lack of empathy. He does not return your look, but you know he noticed. He simply didn’t think it worth acknowledging.
The woman clears her throat and tries again. “M-My lord, majesty—” she stumbles when addressing Sukuna.
“He is not the King. You need not trouble yourself calling him that. He is only the Royal Advisor,” you interrupt, sparing her further embarrassment. You immediately feel Sukuna’s head snap toward you. You do not turn to meet his gaze, but it is unnecessary. The coldness of his stare presses against your temple. “I know what you need. You came to request a place in the shelter, didn’t you? Many have complained today that space is scarce. Do not worry. I will personally ensure that you and your child are admitted to the Kingdom’s shelter.” The woman nearly cries with relief, tightening your chest. You look to your father, and he simply nods, signaling his agreement. The peasant woman leaves, offering profuse thanks. She is the last petitioner.
When she exits, you rise and turn to ask your father for leave. You look at him and notice how weary he seems. He had remained unusually quiet throughout the petitions, with you doing most of the speaking. “Are you well, Father? You seem tired,” you ask, concerned. The King was aging, yes, but he had always been strong and healthy for his years.
The tired man before you did not resemble the robust King you knew. “I am fine, my daughter. Just tired,” the King reassures you. “You may go now. You are dismissed from your duties for the day. But I ask that you join me for dinner in my chambers tonight.”
You agree. Dinners with your father had become routine after your mother passed away years before. It was how you both avoided drowning in grief. The King had loved the late Queen deeply, and her death had shaken him. He changed after her loss. He remained the same kind man, beloved by the people and secretly despised by the nobility for his excessive charity toward the subjects. But he had neglected his duties. Many responsibilities fell to Lord Sukuna, making him the most powerful man in the castle, much to your dismay. But he was not King. Nor heir. You had already decided. The first thing you would do upon ascending the throne would be to remove the current Royal Advisor. He knew this, which was why he treated you with such cynical disdain.
After saying goodbye to your father, you find Sir Geto waiting in the corridor, ready to escort you wherever you wished. Before you can start walking, a voice calls out. You turn to face him.
“A word, Princess,” Lord Sukuna says, standing in the middle of the corridor. You wait for him to approach. You would never go to him. It seems he thought the same. You both stand several steps apart, waiting for the other to yield.
After a moment, Lord Sukuna moves toward you with calculated grace. “I just wanted to remind you not to demean me like that in front of the subjects. I may find it cute, but I don’t want the wrong people getting ideas.”
You frown at his words. The man was unbelievable. “Forgive me if you misunderstood, Lord Sukuna. I did not demean you. I merely corrected your title.”
He smiles with cold mockery. “Of course, Your Highness. I know that was exactly your intention.” He looks you up and down, a completely disrespectful and inappropriate gesture toward a princess. “I see that even after all these years, Your Highness still does not properly understand the games of court. We owe no explanations to inferiors.”
“I will be Queen. I know very well how to treat my subjects, and treating them as inferiors is not how that is done.” You try to make your voice as cold as his, but it is nearly impossible under his piercing gaze.
He studies you for a moment, then laughs. He laughed at you. “I fail to see what’s amusing, Lord Sukuna,” you say, your voice almost childish. “I find it amusing that you truly believe you will be Queen,” he says simply.
You freeze. From the corner of your eye, you even see Sir Geto shift. Before you can respond, he cuts you off the moment you open your mouth.
“There has never been a Queen, Princess. And there will not be one now. Do you think that just because your mother failed to produce a male heir and your father named you successor that your throne is guaranteed? You should wake up, Your Highness, before playing future Queen fills you with expectations. You would never be accepted. Not even for a day. The Court would not allow it. The nobility would not allow it. The moment you were crowned, the Kingdom would go to war. Has that never crossed your mind?”
Your voice nearly breaks, but you manage to say, “I have the support of the people. My subjects love me. They—”
“How adorable,” Sukuna interrupts. “Good luck ruling with only the people’s support.”
“That is treason,” your lips tremble.
“Treason? Don’t be like that, Your Highness. I am only doing this for your own good. I am making you face what your father lacks the courage to tell you.” He studies your face, satisfied with the distress he sees. “Well, I have duties to attend to. Have a good afternoon, Princess.” He bows gracefully and leaves the corridor.
You lean against the wall, catching your breath. Your thoughts are frantic. He was cruel. Every word was precise. Every word was calculated. Every word was true.
Sukuna was cruel.
And he was conspiring. Your time was running out.