Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Ch. 7: The Belly of the Beast

I’m lying on one of those clouds that float over the capital. It was soft, like goose feathers, and extremely cozy. But sleeping through my problems won’t make them go away.

There is a murmuring going on around this wonderful bed I’m lying in. Nothing pokes at my back and my legs have room to swish around if I wanted to move them. But that would just alert those in this strange place that I’m awake. I’ve long since mastered the ability of waking up without moving my body, acquired from literally being unable to move around in the small crib I outgrew long ago.

“Oh, this one is especially beautiful,” someone murmured adoringly.

“I’ve never seen hair this white before! Just like snow!”

“Don’t let ahead of yourselves ladies. White hair is obviously a trait from the Old Continent. This could be a spy they sent to worm their way into the Empire.” a snide voice commented. I swallowed back a smile as I listened to the maids standing around my bed gossip. A 5-year-old kid as a spy? That was a bit harsh of an assumption.

“You are too quick to judge,” someone admonished the snide maid in my place. “Such a precious, little child, and she even has the Emperor’s impeccable bone structure. I don’t think this one is a fraud.”

I smiled on the inside. My new appearance these days was rather cute, these maids would be no match for my unique charm. I would have to make them and everyone else like me if I wanted to survive. Because without a doubt, I knew that these soft pillows and the faint scent of gardenia roses, the empress’ favorite scent, could only be found in one place: the royal palace. I absentmindedly wonder if Wolfgang and the other royal guard are still in the room too.

That pesky Peppermint. I never thought I could hold so much spite for a red and white, innocent-looking piece of candy. If I had possessed any misgivings before, now they were all but confirmed. Somehow, the author of the web I’ve fallen into can still manipulate the world around me.

.....

He or she is trying to make me follow the original plot of the story and I shiver under the fluffy covers at the thought of my head rolling under the guillotine and then bouncing onto the floor like a basketball. My last life had ended so disappointingly when I was just a few months away from graduating from college and beginning my new job. It would be my greatest shame if this one ended even more pitifully. If Peppermint thought I would mindlessly follow along with their plot to ultimately murder me, they’ve got another thing coming.

“Look her little fingers have twitched!”

“And her middle finger has just unfurled from her fist! The prospective princess must be waking up now! Remember ladies, do not address her as her Highness until the holy mage has arrived.” instructed the same maid who had defended me earlier. There was an excitement in the room even as all conversation fell to a low hum that I could no longer hear.

It seemed that the middle finger did not hold the same meaning in the Empire as it did in my world. I’m not sure whether I should be grateful or disappointed about one of my favorite insults being meaningless.

Seeing as the maids expected me to truly wake up soon, it would be best for me to make my entrance worthwhile. Channeling my inner Audrey Hepburn, I opened my little doe eyes slowly, letting my long lashes flutter on my cheeks. There were 3... 5... 10 maids crammed inside the room with me. There are no men amongst them. Actually, crammed was a poor word choice. This was easily the largest room I’ve been in since I’ve woken up in this world.

The bed alone seems fit for royalty, with plush, indigo blue covers, but I that there was no way they had already moved me to my future chambers before confirming my identity. I yawned with my little, pink mouth and stretched my short arms over my head, a devastating one-two combo that managed to draw out an “Aww” or two from my audience. When I was done with my staged awakening, I looked around to see a pleased group of maids with stars in their eyes. I mentally patted myself on the back. That was at the very least an 8/10 performance. It seemed the one drama class I had taken for art credit back in university would pay itself off in spades now.

“Are you awake, miss?” a maid asked, hesitantly stepping forward towards me. No duh, I wanted to respond with an eye roll, but I just settled for a little, childlike nod. Normal children are usually nowhere near as sarcastic as I am.

They had been annoying chatterboxes when they thought I was asleep, but now that I have ‘woken up’, the mood of the maids has shifted. I admired their professionalism as they kept their words curt, yet effectively relayed their requests to me. In the web, Winter’s identity, along with any suspected bastard children of the Emperor, is proven by a holy mage testing whether or not our gold eyes possessed any godly essence. Since the Erudian Empire was founded by the offspring of the god, Helio, every child from the bloodline possesses the mark of the gods in their eyes.

The maids quick yet careful hands guided me to a porcelain white bathtub in the corner of the room I am staying in. They set up a screen to protect my dignity before gently requesting me to remove my clothes and submerge myself in the water. I’d hardly noticed that I was still wearing the same filthy nightgown from a few days ago and the embarrassment I felt only increased as I undid the simple strings fastening the front of the nightgown and the fabric slid to the ground around me.

I’ve long known that I look like the poster child for childhood neglect. I’m too small for my age and am not that much larger than I was as a baby. The smallest breeze frequently chills me to the bone and my weak immune system means I frequently endure low-grade fevers. But knowing it and seeing it reflected in other people’s eyes is another story. There is a certain shame that follows those pitying looks because it is human nature to always try to hide what you’re going through, even if someone else wants to help.

Two maids from the original 10 had been assigned to bathe me: the one who had convicted me of being a spy, a green-haired girl with an equally poisonous gaze, and the one who had defended me, a cheerful-looking brunette. Once my soiled nightgown fell to the floor, the brunette’s eyes filled with tears and the green-haired girl looked away angrily, letting out a loud tsk. I shrank under their gaze, feeling mortified with my underdeveloped self. Internally, I begged the maids not to inquire about my situation and to my utter relief, they didn’t.

Marie held my hand gently, as if it were a glass cup, and helped into the warm water where I took the nicest bath I have ever had in both of my lives. I’d forgotten the simple joy of warm water and fragrant soap. The water was full of bubbles and as I gave myself a Santa Claus beard as the maids scrubbed at my filthy locks, I was once again painfully reminded of my real mother, Dolores. When I was little she had frequently indulged me in bubble baths, even when chiding me for the excessive use of water. Bubble baths are not as much fun when I’m alone and I let the bubble beard slip from my face to join the remaining suds on the surface of the bathwater.

Within an hour, I cannot recognize the girl staring back at me in the floor-length mirror the maids have propped up before me. The skin on my face, which usually has a stain or two from the soot in the fireplace is sparkling clean with slightly red cheeks. My hair is sparkling more than anything I’ve seen before and my silvery strands shine like rare gems. The dress I’m wearing is simple and warm, a hue of purple only a few shades off of my dark blue covers. I twirl in the mirror like a ballerina and all the maids clap.

I smile at my reflection and the pretty, little girl smiles back looking too cute. Ugh, this appearance of mine is too great of an advantage. I can’t wait to put it to full use.

I turn to the gathered maids appreciating their hard work on me and drop into a low bow since curtseying is too hard to figure out in this clumsy body of mine. The gesture has the desired effect. Cheeks redden and a few maids try to wave it away.

“M-Miss we were simply doing o-our jobs, seeing you smile is thanks enough for us,” the brunette who had bathed me stuttered out. Kind and humble to boot. I already liked this maid very much.

A knock sounded on the door followed by an order from a deep, male voice.

“His Majesty the Emperor and the official representative of the Holy Church request the presence of the prospective princess in the throne room. Please make you way there shortly.” the voice said in an even, practiced tone.

“Understood,” a maid chirped nervously. They were all looking at me with apprehensive expressions, I could only assume that they wanted me to pass the holy church’s examination and become a true member of the imperial family. Out of everyone in my retinue, I was the only one who was calm in the procession towards the throne room. I wanted to reassure them that there was no doubt in my identity and that they didn’t have to worry, but I had no way to prove myself yet.

As the maids worried and sweated for my fate, I took my time to admire my new home. This truly was one of the greatest architectural and interior design feats I’d ever seen, on par with the photos I’ve looked at online of the magnificent Russian palaces. Delicate white filigree lined the walls and doors, and the wallpaper was covered in embossed designs gold, red, and indigo blue, the royal colors. Before long, the feast for my eyes drew to a close as our footsteps slowed down in front of the tallest doors I’ve ever seen in my life.

They were white with huge, gold handles, and the crest of a phoenix sat prominently in the center. I’ve read about this place and it was now, even though I knew my identity was the real deal, my heart began to pound. In the brief mentions Winter got in the web, this was a turning point in her life as she transformed from peasant to princess.

I know how the story goes. But why am I all of a sudden so nervous?