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Hidden Event: Snowy Memories

Reward : +5% affection

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Celia's first time making a snowman was with a child living next door. He moved away in summer, so she never got the chance again. Snow always slipped her mind as being something fun and magical. The snow in this world was more than it was back home. There hasn't been any brown slush or the gross muddy snow. There was no slipping on black ice and the snowballs she threw broke apart instead of causing bloody noses.

Lecil looked back at the pavilion. A tall, snowy figure was standing watch. If she squinted, she could see a smaller form shadowed by its outline.

Would he object to a snowball fight?

That would be pressing her luck. It is entirely possible Lecil wouldn't survive. Kly was a ruthless opponent. He even cheated with magic.

Death by snowball fight. I don't know if such an ending would be sad or epic.

Celia didn't ever encounter this event in-game, so it was a pleasant suprise. The reward was nice too. However, there was no reliable way to find more. It was only thanks to Celia's memories that they were able to attend all the main events.

"Irene. Nice assist with the carrots."

The maid beamed brightly, obsessively standing on Lecil's left.

"I am glad I could be of use."

"I am not sure what to do for the rest of the day. I planned to go out again, but if Rain is on vacation, I suppose we should find something to do."

"There is a library in the west wing that you can browse. It has the largest collection in the kingdom next to the Grand Library."

"Hmm... I'm not really a huge reader. My eyes end up drifting off the page. It was a problem growing up. Teachers expected me to read these huge textbooks and learn every word. It was impossible with my attention span. I found out later that I'm an auditory listener."

That was odd. Irene heard that Princess Lecil was the one to frequent the library the most when she was young. For some reason, she stopped. Was it because she had trouble reading?

"How about having tea with Princess Anne? I heard Prince Tristan has to cancel."

Lecil brightened. Was this her chance? To confront her sister after so long would be a real treat. Lecil had too much trouble finding her. Anne was dodging her somehow. Trying to find her in the castle was like trying to find an orange in an apple orchard.

"You know where she is?"

"In the parlor, princess."

"Fantastic! Let's go immediately."

Now that I know where she is... I'm expecting an event screen to pop up any second now.

Lecil's steps faltered.

Any second.

Irene looked around, wondering why they were standing still.

Surely. Any moment now.

There were no crickets in the winter.

"Why isn't it showing up? I was sure-ACK!"

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Main Event - My Name

Rewards: Affection++

Consequences: Death or Exile

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Lecil's stream of curses was censored by a gust of wind.

=

It was strange living in a castle. The structure was less designed for defense and more for opulence, so the word "palace" suited it better. It was her home, and yet there were still places unexplored. Lecil couldn't remember ever visiting the parlor. Maybe with the Queen, but those memories were almost all gone.

Lecil rapped on the door herself. There were muffled words inside, then the door opened. Lecil stared into the face of a scowling maid. Had she been taking lessons from Tristan?

"Is my sister here? I heard she had tea here around this time. I thought I could join her."

The maid opened her mouth to say something, but a voice inside cut her off.

"Let her in Helda, you and the others can take the rest of the afternoon off."

"Yes, Princess."

The maid bowed, opening the door fully. Lecil waited for the four maids to trail out before entering. Irene closed the door behind her, joining the other maids outside.

The parlor was a soft place. Not too decorative, but definitely luxurious. The furniture was enough to hold several guests, a fireplace marking the left side of the room. What gave Lecil pause was the fact that this room held no windows and was completely ensealed by the palace walls. The only escape was the door she entered or up through the crackling fireplace.

Anne lounged at a table much like the one sitting in a pavilion outside. This one was made of sturdier wood and shade darker, emanating a different aura.

Princess Anne wore a pale pink dress that reached down to her ankles. It looked sweltering to wear with all the frills and folds, but Anne wore it with grace as she sipped scalding tea. Her blue eyes watched Lecil strut over to the table and sit down in the opposite chair

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Lecil was the first to speak.

"This is a cozy. Do you come here often?

Do you come here often? What sort of line is that? Are you in middle school?

Anne set down her teacup, refilling it, and adding two sugar cubes.

"Tristan and I meet here to talk every Tuesday. He was busy today."

"So I heard."

Gah! Way to make it awkward. She is your sister. Talk to her. Scold her. Compliment her. Say something meaningful!

The silence afterward was incredibly uncomfortable. Lecil could feel herself sweat a little bit.

"Why are you here?"

Oh, thank god—an out.

"Irene told me you frequented this place, so I thought I'd join you."

Anne's index finger tightened around the handle of the cup. She set it down with an audible clink.

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"I mean to say, why are you still here. You should be off getting married. Why are you still here?"

Her voice was low and threatening. Anne looked up through her blond curls at Lecil, blue eyes swirling with a dark promise.

Lecil cursed internally. This wasn't an event Celia ever attended before.

Wait... Does that mean I could be missing other Main Events?

Plucking away that thought, Lecil thought it best speak quickly.

"I didn't want to marry any of the Dukes. I thought I could be of use at home while I waiting for better options."

"Of use?"

Anne whispered.

"Of use!"

She practically shrilled.

"You are of no use. You do nothing. Create nothing. Inspire nothing. Learn nothing. How long have we tried to get you to grow up? To make you see the light of day. Yet, you still insist on hiding in your room like a blubbering child."

Lecil was blindsided. Where did this come from?

"I-"

Anne slammed her hands on the table and stood.

"No! You don't get to spout excuses anymore. You complained about embroidery because you kept pricking your fingers. You complained about mathematics because it made your head hurt. You complained about learning the sword because it made you sweaty and sore. Always an excuse to do less work."

"But-"

"But nothing! Do you have any idea how much of your slack I have to pick up? Entertaining foreign dignitaries, supporting Tristan and Kly, learning all the crafts a woman should know. You have no clue how exhausting it is to have countless men practically barging down my door for arranged marriages!"

Lecil rocketed upward.

"So your bragging about all you've accomplished? How men fawn over you at every occasion! Too many suitors. Too many choices. Boo-hoo. Am I supposed to apologize because you have overwhelming talent?"

"You have no idea of the effort I've had to put in! What it takes to maintain appearances 24/7. I'm expected to be the perfect princess round the clock because everyone's always comparing me to the useless and unwanted Ghost Princess."

"Did I not try all the things you mentioned? Did I not attempt every craft? Is it a crime to be talentless?"

"It is a crime to stop trying!"

Anne marched around the table, grabbing Lecil's hand.

"Let go."

"Remove your glove and show me your hand."

"No."

"Do it!"

"No!"

"Fine."

Anne yanked the glove off Lecil. Throwing it away, she forcibly uncurling Lecil's fingers.

"Do you see how clean your hands are? No wear. No tear. No callouses, blisters, scars, or dried skin. Do you see my hand? Look!

"Pricks from needles from learning how to sow. A calloused thumb from holding a pen. A scar on my palm from cutting myself while cooking. My nails are need to be clipped short because I they keep breaking. Why do you get to hide your hands? "

"Oh, you couldn't stand that I had smooth skin, so you decided to color it?"

"I've been trying to get you to wake the fuck up! Stop acting like you are made of glass and learn to be useful! For once in your life, Lecil, don't be such a spoiled bitch."

Lecil smacked her hand away. She shook in outrage.

"Go ahead and cry. Prove my point."

The shaking intensified. Fire burned in her eyes.

"Have I not tried? Is it a crime to not try? Every time I pick up something new I am shamed. No matter the brush I hold I am never good enough. No matter the points I make I am ignored as a fool. Have you ever been patient with me? Has anyone actually wanted me to succeed? Or do you all just enjoy putting me down so you can stand up on you're pedestals and sneer?

Why do I have to put up with this nonsense? I have tried all my life to be useful.

Lecil took a step forward.

"Why do you get to judge me when I have tried everything to be accepted!"

The days of trying to find something she was good at. Something she could boast. Something to be proud of.

Sewing. Cooking. Fighting. Archery. Hunting. Mathematics. Engineering. Magic. Writing. Dancing. Singing. Politics. Trading. Aesthetics.

"I've tried everything to be loved!"

"You have no talent in swordsmanship, Princess. Quit."

"How can you be so useless at mathematics? Your younger sister is a genius."

"Can't you even hold the pen correctly?"

"I've never seen someone with three left feet before."

"Enough. That voice is atrocious."

"Frankly, your smile scares me."

Lecil wasn't smiling now.

Why do I have to deal with this shitty game?

Celia worked hard all her life. To please her parents. Make the right friends. She became a member of the student council, got a part-time job. managed to get top scores and get into a decent college. Her parents were supportive, but only subjectively. When did they genuinely praise her?

"Only a B+? You can do better."

"Get off your games and start studying."

"You are going to be a doctor, so why did you accept this university? This is not a medical school."

Celia's parents were always demanding. Why must she be molded to fit their image? Why couldn't she play games in her off time? Why couldn't she hang out with certain friends? What was wrong with wanting to be a historian instead of a doctor?

Did they ever love me? I thought they did, but maybe I was just kidding myself. I can't even remember their faces anymore.

I want to go home.

I hate this place.

I miss my dog.

"You are useless, Lecil. You should have left when you had the chance."

"MY NAME IS CELIA!"

The knife dug in too deep. It carved at her. Too much. What use was a family route if they didn't give two shits if she stayed or left. If she were to die on the curbside, would they laugh before walking away?

Celia crouched down, folding in on herself, holding the back of her head. Shivering. Cold. Isolated. Alone.

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In a blank space, two girls sat across from each other. They were nearly identical on the outside aside from their clothing and hairstyle. One was perfectly sculpted and beautiful, but sported bruises and scars. The other had the same black eyes speckled with dark violet embers. Worn hands set their worlds apart. Countless hours of studying, holding a pen. Lifting stupid boxes at the convenience store. Stained from grime and grease. Broken fingers from mishandling a wrench.

"Where did we go wrong?"

"I was happy when I got accepted into that university."

"We were, weren't we?"

"I remember us playing with the Queen's hair."

"It was the brightest yellow. I thought it looked like cheese."

"It tasted nothing bad."

The two girls smiled grimly at each other. They were two wholes pretending to be a half.

"Do you think Anne knows now?"

"That we aren't Lecil anymore?"

"Maybe she misheard it."

"You screamed it at the top of your lungs."

"We did..."

"Perhaps it will work out."

"Does it matter?"

"I understand now. Why I wanted to die..."

"I do too."

"But it scares me."

"There is nothing but darkness and pain."

"Lets not go back."

"I agree."

"Then what do we do?"

"Should we wake up to reality?"

"Is there a point?"

"Anne is shaking us."

"Let her sweat."

"Don't be mean."

"She deserves it."

"She does."

"But you said we wouldn't play the victim again."

"Did we?"

"Technically."

"It wasn't intentional."

"You can't play what you are."

"Ouch. That hurts."

"I know."

"My bruises ache."

"It hurts to breathe at times."

"Because of Sallow."

"He wasn't the only one."

"Tristan and Anne."

"The staff."

"Do we deserve this?"

"No."

"But Anne's words are true. We are useless."

"We are."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Will we meet like this again?"

"Probably."

"I can see it happening."

"It happens in anime, doesn't it?"

"It's a sign we are broken."

"Maybe we can be fixed."

"Usually, one of us has to die."

"Or take the reins."

"Can't we both live?"

"Can't we both take the reins?"

"Mhm. I like that."

"Mhm. Me too."

"Alright. Lets go back."

"Alright. Lets go back."

=

"Celia! Celia!"

Anne shook her sister. She was tightly wound in a ball. Wet tears streaked her face, falling unhindered and unabated. The purple eyes regained focus. She sniffled. Tears stained her bare hand and single glove as she wiped at her face.

The word hit Anne like a train. She had forgotten the name from long ago. When did it change? Did it happen gradually, or was it whisked away with the wind?

"I'm sorry."

Anne observed her sister's blubbering and sobbing, not immune to its effect. They weren't crocodile tears. This wasn't an act. This was her sister. All of her.

"I'm sorry. It is my fault."

The words made her sister look up, her eyes red and puffy. When was the last time Anne saw her sister crying like this? When she was five? She had always complained about not being good at anything but never cried. She was the emotionless sister. She was supposed to be stalwart in her opinions. Unchanging.

"I am sorry that I forgot your name."

"Huh?"

Anne nodded knowingly. It was a surprise to Anne that she'd forgotten. Her memory was suddenly rekindled where each word was enunciated carefully.

"Celia. Lets play."

"Play what, Annie?"

"I want to play hop-scotch."

"We played hopscotch yesterday."

"I want to beat you, Celia."

"Annie..."

It was Lecil's true name. The one given to her by her birth mother. Was it the King that changed it? Did anyone else remember? Baring being called by the wrong name all these years must have been unbearable.

"I'm sorry, Celia. Somehow I forgot your birth name. I've been so curel to you."

"..."

Her sister was silent, staring wide-eyed at Anne. Anne mistook the expression for longing.

"I won't forget again. I promise. Please stop crying. I will remember your name. I'll remind the staff and our brothers too."

"No."

Anne barely heard the squeak.

"No. Don't tell them."

"Why not?"

Her sister sniffled, wiping her nose, she spoke more clearly.

"Lecil is my name now. But, if you can call me Celia in private... that would be enough."

Anne felt something beat in her chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, she embraced her sister for the first time in years. It was awkward, and uncomfortable being on the floor, but incredibly refreshing.

"I can do that... Celia."

The First Princess smiled. Not the large evil one. Or creepy plotting one. Not the fake, deprecating one. Nor the small one barely holding back amusement.

Celia's smile was a gentle longing.

"Thank you. Annie."