Lucas
"...There is no mana in your blood." She flinches, but only slightly. He continues. "So, the chances that your body healed itself on its own are slim."
"Ah, I had a feeling. Perhaps there was a healer nearby." She smiles. She smiles and it's damn fake. "Yes, that is the most likely explanation." His eyes are kind and he's speaking calmly, his words laced with something. Perhaps it's sympathy. "Alright doctor, I will do some digging to find out who it was that healed the wound. Thank you for your time." She stands up slowly, gracefully. "Please don't thank me, your highness. It is only my duty." I open the door, and she walks through. "Have a wonderful day, your highness!" the nurse greets as we leave the first room. Her way of walking is back to normal, except her head is held slightly higher than it usually is. Her knuckles, which were white as chalk are now flushed. Everything is back to normal, everything except,
"Your highness?" I call and she stops and smiles. "Didn't I tell you not to address me that way anymore, Lucas?"
"I'm sorry, princess. Old habits die hard." "They really do, don't they?" She agrees.
Stop.
"How is that elf you took in for questioning?" She asks.
"He isn't responding, but I am trying to avoid torture because he is only a child."
"Oh, my! I will have to see him myself is that is the case."
Stop.
"I also have to prepare the documents for my father's first post-hiatus address at parliament in two days."
Stop.
"And then sign all the permission letters sent by stall runners for the festival..." "Would you please just stop?!" She is taken aback by my sudden outburst, but I can't continue like this. "You're acting like what just happened didn't upset you; acting like you're fine when you're not! The smile on your face is the same one you give those damned nobles when they try to put you down, or your brother when you greet him for appearances. Not the smile on your face when you talk about your childhood or admire the fireflies."
"Well, I'm not exactly dancing on cloud nine, am I?!" She fires back. "The one time there was the smallest chance that I am not mundane was disproven before my eyes!"
"Yes, and you're allowed to be upset! You're allowed to feel hurt by that!"
"But I'm not allowed to show it!"
"And who decided that?" I ask. She stares at me like she's going to punch me. And somehow, I like it. It's the side of her that she hid the deepest. Her angry side.
"Everyone. Everything."
"How so?"
"I cannot show weakness, Lucas! Even if that is what I am by definition."
"Again, how so?"
"I have zero magic, Lucas!"
"And I am failing to see the problem! What do you even need it for when you are so perfectly capable without it?! You became the emperor's proxy at the age of 16 and you fixed problems he didn't since you were born! You were mourning the empress too, weren't you? But you held your head up and acted as the pillar Aetherwyne needed! The pillar Aetherwyne needs."
"A pillar can't be soft, Lucas." She says firmly and turns around to continue walking. It's ironic, isn't it? A knight who was trained to show no emotion lectures his lady on the same thing. She once told me that the war is over, and there is no need to be so tense all the time. But the fact that the empire isn't at war doesn't mean there is no war in her heart. And in her case, it's one against thousands.
A war for succession.
A war for recognition.
A war for honour.