[November 29, 2042]

Aina, fourth princess of Luvinia, had become comfortable with the presence of the caretaker of Otter Manor. They were sitting together in the large entrance hall of the manor, and she hadn’t even noticed or cared that they were alone together. Bridget was upstairs, cleaning the bedroom Aina and her shared.

Aina wasn’t sure when this transition had occurred, but as she peered at Cal from behind her book, and realized all at once it was true. Before, simply the presence of the commoner in the same room as her would be enough to put her in a confrontational mood, but now, she didn’t really mind being together with him anymore.

It was difficult to say what precisely had changed — certainly not Cal. The peasant, while he had cooled in his rhetoric somewhat, was the same fundamentally in terms of personality: efficient and cool-headed and thoroughly unimpressed by her.

It is me that has changed, if only slightly, realized Aina, letting her eyes rest on Cal. He was texting on his phone, to that easy-going friend of his who had been over for dinner the other day and smelled like strange smoke. I used to demand his respect and admiration because of my position as a member of the royalty. After all, that is how it has worked for my entire life. Now I desire something different. I want those things from him purely on the basis of who I am. I will make him bow down to me with nothing but my humility, and level headedness, and kindness. He will kiss my hand and swear loyalty to me, declaring me the most wise and beautiful woman he has ever known. And then…

` And then what? Aina realized she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Well, it did not matter. To get the peasant’s approval was only a matter of inevitability, for sure. She would think about the next steps when she reached that junction. Perhaps she could keep him as a pet in the castle, where he would keep her company and fluff her slippers. Yes, that would be most amusing…

Aina gazed more intensely at Cal’s face, her book forgotten. She looked at his stern chin, and his dark hair, and the attractive ambiguity in his eyes.

He looks a little bit like Didi, Aina thought subconsciously. I never noticed that before.

“Can I help you, or are you just going to keep staring, Aina?”

Aina yelped. Cal was staring directly at her, and she thrust her face behind the book for protection. “N-no! I- well, that is…” She was blushing for a reason she didn’t understand. “I- I was just meditating on the outcome of our last chess match!”

“Which you lost, as I recall,” murmured Cal, leaning back in his chair.

“You!- only because you cheat!”

“Oh, how precisely do I cheat?”

“By not letting me win!”

“Uh huh.”

This was technically an argument like the kind they had had in the past, Aina realized. A barbed exchange of words. But unlike before, there was no more pointed or hurtful intention. Instead, it was the kind of back-and-forth, semi-ironic exchange of words that friends who were close may partake in, because they were close enough to not take the other too seriously.

Is that it? wondered Aina. Am I… friends with this peasant?

She searched her mind. She realized that she didn’t know. And then she realized that her prior fantasy of taking Cal back to the castle with her, however tongue-in-cheek, was completely impossible. Her father had broken off Aina’s friendship with Didi because the other girl was simply not the right type of noble. She couldn’t even imagine what would happen if, when she eventually returned home, she brought a commoner with her into the castle. It wasn’t utterly out of the question that in his rage her father could possibly order Cal to be killed — to punish her, to set an example.

Aina shivered. That would make Bridget sad. And her. It would make her sad, too.

“Aina, can I ask a question?”

“Hmm?” Aina was broken out of her train of thought again as Cal addressed her. “Oh, yes, that is fine.”

Cal lowered his phone and looked at her, and then the book she was holding, and then at her again. “You’ve been reading that book for a while, despite it not being very long. I think you were reading it when we talked at the end of September. And when you do read it, you’re always squinting a lot and rubbing your head. You wouldn’t…” He tilted his head slightly. “You wouldn’t happen to be farsighted, would you?”

For a moment, Aina couldn’t speak. She felt as if she had been slapped, but she quickly composed herself. She looked at her book — blurry words that seemed to float off the page — and then she looked at Cal’s face.

“Yes. You’re perceptive as always,” she replied shortly, pressing a hand against her breast, regulating her breathing. It felt oddly satisfying to be rid of the secret. “I am. I have always suffered from hyperopia, ever since I was a child, much to the dismay of my parents and guardians.”

“Okay,” Cal nodded. “Can’t you… I mean, I do not know how it is in your world, but… are there no glasses that could correct such an issue?”

Aina narrowed her green eyes, and then let out a long sigh, not of exasperation, but rather one of acceptance. “I oft forget just how little you know about my world, Cal. Perhaps many of the times we butted heads could have been avoided if us two shared a little more contextual knowledge, so to speak…”

Cal nodded slightly in agreement, waiting for her to continue.

Aina adjusted the sleeves of her dress, a lovely red-colored gown a slighter darker shade than her hair. “What you say is true. Hypothetically, a pair of spectacles could be fashioned by some renowned glass craftsmen and fix my condition. However, my parents would never approve of such a thing.”

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Cal shook his head. “Why not?”

Aina closes her eyes for a moment. Was she truly about to reveal such things to a commoner? Yes, she decided. She found at this moment, her parent’s ideals about the positions of commoners and nobles didn’t matter that much to her.

“Cal,” she stated plainly, leaning forward in her chair in order to give him an ample view of her face, her thin waist, the way her dress clung tightly around her modest breasts. “Would you consider me an attractive woman?”

Cal raised an eyebrow. “I can’t help but feel I’m being led into a trap here. You’re not going to decry that a mere peasant like me isn’t worthy to look upon you after I answer, will you?”

Aina pressed her thin pale lips together in a playful smile. “I promise. I’m asking with complete sincerity.”

“Alright,” Cal let out a large breath of air, as if mentally preparing to talk. “Yes, Aina, you are very attractive. In fact, I suspect if you asked most people, they would even call you extraordinarily beautiful.”

“Thank you, Cal.” Aina kept smiling, though it had taken on a forced aspect. “I’m glad to hear that. It was by design.”

A flicker of apprehension came into Cal’s dark eyes. “By design? What do you mean?

Aina leaned back in her chair, wrapping her waist in a soft blanket that had been placed on the headrest. “I mean by design, intended, sculpted, forced, even. By the time I was ten years old, I had my nose forcibly broken twice and healed twice to ensure proper straightness and symmetry. Any marks or pimples or imperfections on my skin were burned with fire magic before being repaired, to ensure my skin would be pale and spotless as I grew.” Her smile had become practically cynical, there was not a trace of humor or joy to be found in it. “I would personally consider my hair to be my best feature, but that’s only because the hair of the royal family is carefully regulated through breeding compatible matches. Red is the color of royalty, and if a commoner is found with red hair, they must shave their head and dye it or be executed. That is the rule of law in Luvinia.”

Aina's eyes seemed tired. “Oh, and my weight was carefully managed — of course — as was my diet. I would be weighed every other day, and if I ever exceeded a certain amount, I would be given no food at all. Somehow, it never seemed to be an issue if I was ever under their expectations. I’m relatively sure this type of upbringing gave me several eating disorders I’m still attempting to wrestle with. I apologize if I can be picky or snobbish about the food you make, Cal, but you have to understand that the type of food I ate for my entire life was so specific and of a certain ‘style’ that it’s very difficult for me to accept anything that does not fall into certain categories.” She paused for breath. “Oh, Bridget thinks you have an eating disorder, by the way. She is constantly comparing my former behaviors to ones you currently have — the way you take so little at meals. It’s a source of constant worry for her. I won’t tell you how to live your life, but if you ate a little more of the delicious food you cook for us, it would truly be a great source of comfort to her. …Sorry, is that too much information?”

“No,” Cal said softly, “I think I understand what you’re getting at. So… the glasses…”

“Completely out of the question for a princess to wear. Glasses can indicate a certain erudite impression, but princesses are intended to look beautiful so they can be paired with powerful husbands. There is a worry among the royal family, however true it might be, that allowing any member to wear glasses will lead to an impression of intelligence or scholarly learning, which might be a point of displeasure for certain suitors. Many noblemen do not want an intelligent woman, or at least not one more intelligent than themselves.” Aina shook her head at the silliness of it all. “Not that I’m particularly intelligent, of course, but it’s the perception that matters. I do have a personal pair of spectacles for those times when I absolutely must read something carefully and Bridget is not there to read it aloud for me. But to wear them in public would not be allowed.”

There was long silence.

“That’s absolutely terrible,” Cal said, with conviction. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have been allowed to happen to you.”

Aina shrugged. “It is what it is, and will not change. If you ever meet any of my siblings and ask, they will weave you similar stories. It is the expectation that comes with being royalty.”

“Many things are what they are, that doesn’t make them any better.”

Aina eyed Cal with slight surprise. She hadn’t seen this side of him before: this passionate moral idealism. It was quite a stark contrast to his typical calm and semi-detached demeanor.

“Regardless,” Aina said, “I hope this explains some aspects of myself. I know I can be prideful. You see? — even I have a degree of self-scrutiny. Depending on who you ask, this is a positive or a negative trait for a princess, and I have not decided which side of the fence I fall on. However, and this is a point I must emphasize to you Cal, my pride is not simply a manifestation of an overgrown ego. Pride in my family is a standard, a performance, a thing that must be indicative in every matter of our mind and our bodies.”

Aina bit her lip, slightly. The book on her lap lay forgotten in the conversation. “It is that standard that I have pursued and strove for my entire life — that I attempt to capture with my mannerisms, my dress, my speech. I have called you ‘peasant’’ many times before, yes?”

“Yeah,” said Cal, a little sarcastically. “You’ve said that word like a million times.”

“That is a chosen terminology. Such terminology about all manner of things has been drilled into me. To refer to you simply in any way that connotes us being equals would be extremely problematic in the eyes of my family. Do you understand? Every fiber of my being is designed for one purpose, one mode, one type of existence.”

And I still wasn’t good enough, Aina added, silently.

She shut the book. “I’ve kept you. It is time for you to start making dinner soon.”

Cal nodded, but he didn’t get up from his chair. “Thank you for telling me this. I think I understand you a little better.”

“Ha,” said Aina with pantomime disdain, though she was trying her best not to blush once more. “As if you could ever delve deep into such a complex and heightened soul as mine, peasant. Keep to your class, the secrets of royals will be forever out of your reach.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Cal, standing up. He smiled at her joke, but his eyes were still overwhelmingly sincere. “And, just so you know… while you’re here… you can use your glasses to read. Nobody here will mind.”

Aina gulped, pushing down a lump in her throat. “That is an appreciated gesture, Cal,” she said, crossing her hands in her lap over the tome. “But, perhaps it would be best not to. I don’t want to fall out of practice.”

“Alright,” He looked sad, which made her feel slightly sad.

Just as Cal was about to exit into the hallway leading to the kitchen, he turned around and called out something else. “Oh, Aina?”

“Yes?”

“You should teach me.”

Aina shook her head, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

“A recipe from your world,” Cal smiled. “If there’s a certain food that you miss or are nostalgic for, let me know, I’ll make it for dinner sometime — assuming the ingredients are things I can get hold of.”

Aina blinked. She looked at Cal’s face — his smile — and something in her chest moved, and the world followed suit. The air changed and the ground too. Even the light looked different for a moment. Something glowed that hadn’t before.

Aina found her voice, though she still felt weirdly unsteady, like she had suddenly been moved without notice a distance of many thousands of miles. At first, she thought about saying something half-heartedly, or ironically, or with a superior demeanor. But when she spoke, she herself was surprised by the sincerity of her words and the wide smile she could feel on her face.

“That’s one of the most thoughtful things someone has done for me since I left my world. Thank you so much. I would adore that.”

Her smile widened even more. “I’ll hold you to it, peasant.”