#thelateking

   Lír had taken her riding, sat before him on his trusty mare. They had entered a forest, far from the castle, away from the ocean that had so long held her gaze. But they had stopped, and Lír had been drawn away, for a reason Amalthea had already forgotten. She forgot so much these days, so often lost the memories. Or remembered things that surely could never have happened, not to her. Memories and dreams of cages and creatures. 

   Sat down in the grass, a glade with a clear pond on its each, she looked at her surroundings. There was no sign of where her companion had gone, no sound of hooves. Climbing to her feet with a grace almost inhuman, she looked around herself. There was a stab of fear in her chest as the realisation dawned on her that she was alone. 

@thelateking​ sent:      "Oh, darling, you needn't---" and there he went again,      trembling and keeled over, tears peeking out the corners of      his eyes as he tried and failed to keep in the laughter, over      his sweet, sweet daughter, who had essentially turned herself      in, confessing to the grave crime of leaving some toys out in      the nursery.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 been asked by her Mamma to pick up some of the many toys laying about on the nursery floor. She had nodded, agreed to the task, but quickly become distracted, as young children were, by the many fascinating things in her day. It was only later that day, when she was waiting to be tucked in by her mother, that she remembered. Her shoulders had tensed as the queen looked about at the things still in the same place, but no telling off had come. Instead, she had been given her goodnight kiss, had the blankets placed around her, and her disobedience forgotten by all.

Except the young princess. 

The following morning she had cleared away the objects, save those she wanted immediately to play with, under the watchful gaze of her little sister. But that hadn’t helped ease the knot in her stomach. Did her Mamma think her bad for not doing as she asked? Somehow the idea that she had gotten off scot-free didn’t sit well with her. 

And so she had taken herself off to her father’s office to confess to her crime. Her head had hung, her lip had trembled as she admitted to it. And then... and then...

Pappa had started to laugh. 

     She knew he was right. He was right sometimes. Sleep was something that hadn’t come easily for several days. She was on to something and she knew it. Though she wondered if Agnar even concerned with the state of things…

   “The maids have been talking, Papa,” she said quietly, by way of explanation. She softly closed the door behind her, guessing that he would rather keep the news relatively quiet. “You know they don’t mind gossiping around me.”

   She didn’t mind it either, joining in their chat when she could. It was as if Fantine stood upon a wall between the two different actions that lived under one roof. Even if she spent most of her time with one, it didn’t mean she couldn’t spend the remainder with the other.

   “But so many other people have already gone,” Elsa argued, tears welling in her eyes. “Why do they need you too?”

   She had seen them leaving, packs on their backs, waving goodbye to their loved ones. Some of her friends at school had told stories of the letters through their doors, taking away their Papas or brothers, and Elsa had hoped they wouldn’t get such a thing. But there it was, held in trembling fingers. 

               But sitting there, buttoning up shirts he had stripped minutes before,            with months behind the two of them, and all that those months brought,            Agdar couldn’t fathom the thought. To take from this journey a token,            a payment, a stipend, for Anesa was no longer a stranger, and he no            longer a passerby.

               “Do you still go on about that?” he said, words quiet. “You know            I don’t want anything.”

               Such a request felt like she was pulling back—it was something            she did lately, and Agdar did think that he should do so as well, but a            reward? The thought didn’t sit well with him.

               The heat of the moment earlier was still lingering in the air, and            Agdar didn’t quite know how to make of the mood, the limbo that            always followed. The ache that settled in his chest.

                    She didn’t say anything at first, only staring at the floor before her as               she fumbled with the velveteen laces of her fancy corset, which was                now ruined by months of travelings and adventure. Months of surviving,               Fighting to return to the life she’d always known. The tall cold palace               walls of Olivier, her father’s throne., Her mother’s failing health,               the sister who only cared for her scandals with attractive suitors and               jewels, and the brother who was now king who couldn’t be bothered               to remember her name, but chose to flaunt her to the neighboring               countries as a bargaining chip. 

                            Suddenly she wasn’t so compelled to go back.                Tugging at the strings, hoping for a bit of assistance, the princess               closed her eyes. An unintentional shake came from her head.               Of course she was still going on about that. Because no matter               how much she wanted that to be true, it never was. Princesses               generally don't get happy endings. they get forced and bartered               and shoved. they’re forced to stay in their place and look pretty               with no mind of their own bare as many children as her king wants.

   The anxiety that had been swirling in her stomach over the question disappeared as soon as his reply reached her ears. For a second, the child, the little found child, didn’t believe that she truly had a Papa now. She should have been grinning, and there was the deepest happiness in her chest, but tears welled instead. For all her days she had dreamt of the day where she’d have a Papa to call her own, and now the day had come. Oh, she wasn’t his in the same way her adopted sister’s were, but Fantine didn’t much care about that.