Another eve, another soiree. Seated so perfectly, her dress arranged in neat lace trimmed spills about her velveted chair, Athusa was every bit the image of a perfect noble lady: seemingly as flawlessly impeccable as a doll.
But, who was to say the nobility always lived up to their seemingly unmarred part? She considered to herself, eyes slowly lowering. Rumors swirled about as certain attendees glanced her way especially when they thought she did not notice. Gossip about her late mother was a particular favorite topic of theirs: the Lady Ludvila Sonrique had been from the south, an eye catching beauty with her black hair and red eyes, but was only a simple merchant by trade.
It became a famous tale in the north: the dashing young Grand Duke had attempted to haggle on a product in passing amusement and ended up losing far much more. The lord of the north who had turned down so many noble houses' proposals for a marriage alliance in the end had married for love. For a while, the people of Vierwich considered it a pity: the north was not lacking in magical talent, including their lord, but surely the diluted bloodline would have consequences. But, the new duchess had not survived beyond leaving only a single daughter, and while Athusa's every development became constantly scrutinized if befitting of the heir to the great house of the north, more expected their lord to marry again.
It was very tiring, the constant flow of gossip of court.
"Hm... Who is making my Rumi unhappy?"
Her eyes widened perceptibly and prickled at the cadence of the voice. There was only one person who would gently call her this way, from when she was not yet able to fully pronounce her entire name without stumbling over the syllables. Athusa was suddenly aware of how small she was perched in her chair, a part of her realizing this must be her longing, but she rushed to cling to her father's leg anyways as quickly as her own short ones could carry her.
"Did you have a bad dream?" With a fond chuckle, the Duke lifted her up. "How rare you need me so."
I dreamt, Athusa wanted to say. That you went far, far away.
She shook her head instead, urgently afraid to voice so, less it becomes reality. Instead she clung tighter to him, calming while listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"I wouldn't not need you, papa."
The Duke smiled: it was faintly regretful. He had done his best to love as two parents would. Once, he had considered to remarry, expressing to his advisors that Athusa could possibly be lacking still the gentle guidance of a mother and could benefit. But too many had been more eager at the prospect of a male heir to the duchy instead. In the end, to not displace his beloved daughter, he moved on from all such considerations. He could make a law for the sake of her inheritance but who was to say his wishes would be followed?
Tradition was so deeply rooted in the way of the north after all.
So the princess of the Randalls grew up: mostly happily. But there were certain things he could not shield Athusa from at all and the difficult expectations of court was one. Their house's privilege was not without cost certainly. Fortunately, Athusa was a mature and considerate child who learned quickly and understood his responsibilities and busy schedule was something that unfortunately cannot be helped. Coming to terms with sharing her father's time was a given must with the privilege and weight of the Randall name.
…
The far north hinterlands, the wild untamed lands beyond, were not merely just barren windswept ice and snow. Just as the duchy produced many mages for the Kingdom of Ilecia overall, golems of the Ark - lifeforms warped so by the Impact - were equally common in the north. One of the duchy's duties inevitably involved dispatching magus to keep the creatures away from the general populace and of course from the rest of the kingdom further south.
It was believed one of the Arks must've surely been buried in these northern lands, given the widespread presence of magic.
In such an environment, with no shortage of new magi, it was hard to be outstanding in magic as a student and Athusa had come to far prefer statecraft instead.
She had believed that would be enough and for a while perhaps it was indeed enough: Athusa was a good student and easily achieved among the highest scores in all of Ilecia, placating the elders of the Randall house if only a little. And then, despite her stubborn disinterest in magic, especially the manner the kingdom deployed it, the royal betrothal gave enough further stability to her position…
The flow of memories changed once again. She was watching now her father bidding the Cardinal, her instructor in magic, a safe journey. The clergyman said he had taught her all he could already, as permitted by his schedule, and must return to the Holy Empire now before winter falls upon Vierwich and it becomes completely impossible to travel.
"Perhaps the following spring, the young lady could come to the Holy Empire to advance her studies in magic." Said the verdant haired priest. "We do not discriminate."
Her father softly called her name, asking if she wanted to learn more, that it could be important.
"Magic," offered the cardinal, "is only a tool. If you do not like how Ilecia applies it, Lady Athusa, come to the Holy Kingdom then to learn our way. Ultimately, you should remember, magic is only a means of self protection and is neither good nor evil. However..."
She paused, rooted, as the kindly canary yellow eyes of the cardinal drained of color steadily, becoming Eucemon's steadfast silvery gaze. But they did not look calm, worry disturbing calm pools of waters that should have remained still like a stone had been cast.
"... if you don't learn, you'll die."
She startled awake: to the pinpricks on her arm from carefully set silver needles as small but deft hands arranged the acupuncture, the deep-set exhaustion still in her bones as she pushed herself to unsteadily sit up but a little less overall prevalent. Astana's softly triumphant but urgent call that came from her bedside as he worked brought her newfound focus, even as her gaze fell upon the Vierwich signet ring they had removed from her hand to set beside her pillow.
Astana was saying now, that he will go prepare something soothing and revitalizing for her to drink.
Eucemon's jaw was tightly clenched.
Athusa looked away.
"…sorry." She murmured.
Her apology filled the room, another apology again for not taking care of herself, for worrying them so, and as Carlene came to pull her into an embrace, wrapping her arms tightly about her head and quieting her gently, she clung as closely to the warmth as if to her father's in the dream.
"This won't happen again." She promised. "I'll do better."