The Forgotten One (part 2 of FOR THE SWEETNESS OF HER LAUGHTER... )
Platonic yandere! Athanasia de alger obelia x sister! Daughter! Reader x platonic yandere Claude de alger obelia x Soft yandere Felix
Warnings : mention of death, child neglect and suicidal behaviour and thoughts, pure fluff, germline reader, reincarnation
Authors note: Guys I'm back!!!!! Please reader the part one on @melonminnie and credit for the idea goes to them too !! I hope you guys l be the story.
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Death did not feel like falling. It felt like letting go.
Athy’s scream tore through the air, the river swallowing the light above you. You remembered the cold, the pressure, the taste of regret in your mouth far stronger than water.
There were hands reaching toward you too..... Felix’s frantic splash, the guards shouting, the swirl of panic..... But Claude’s blue eyes were fixed on only one person.
Only her. Always her. You were sinking.
And a strange calm bloomed in your chest as everything blurred, muffled, dimmed .....
Of course. There no next time for someone like you.... Even at the end, you are not the one he saves.
And then the world snapped shut.
You didn’t wake up gently. You shot up from bed like someone who had been chased by trauma in a dream.....which, to be fair, you had.
Your tiny, chubby eight-year-old legs tangled in the blankets and you immediately tumbled off the bed and landed on your face. Not Again.....
The maids gasped, scrambling around you like startled pigeons. Put you back in the bed like the baby bird.
“P-Princess, are you hurt?!”
You lifted one hand weakly.
You were in a smaller bed. A softer one. In a room you hadn’t seen in years.
Your hands… tiny. Your legs… short. Your heart? Old. Too old for this body.
You were back .You didn’t know how or why. But you knew one thing for certain... You weren’t going to waste your second chance waiting for love that would never come.
You were done. Completely done.
“I have… survived,” you muttered, sounding like a war veteran trapped in a child’s body.
The maids exchanged horrified looks.
You did not cry as children do. You did not giggle. You did not cling.
Your silence was not innocent...... it was a fortress.
Maids whispered about “the calm princess,”but your calmness was simply exhaustion in disguise.
Your little feet moved soundlessly through corridors, your little hands folded neatly in your lap during lessons, and your little eyes saw everything.
Every guard shift. Every route Athy took. Every moment Claude was in the same wing of the palace so you could avoid him.
You were a strategist trapped in a child’s body.
And every night, you wrote in your small leather notebook:
“101 Ways to Escape a Trash Father”
Pages filled with diagrams, maps, overheard guard conversations. A manual for freedom.
Athy, just as luminous as in your first life, tried so hard.
Tried to braid your hair. Tried to share cookies. Tried to force dolls into your hands.
You smiled at her sometimes.... not the excited childish smile she expected, but a small, tired curve of lips that carried years behind it.
Athy didn’t understand your distance. Didn’t know why your hugs were quick. Why your eyes drifted away as if you were preparing for the day you must leave her behind.
Yet you let her stay near you. Not close.... just near.
Athy thought she was melting your icy heart. But really, you were simply letting her think so, because she deserved a childhood untouched by pain.
Athy, bless her bright little heart, kept trying. She would pop into your room with cookies, toys, ribbons—
“Come play with me!”. “I found a new book!”. “I braided your doll’s hair!”.
You entertained her sometimes. You weren’t cruel. Just careful. She became someone you… tolerated. Sometimes even liked.
But you kept your walls up, because you knew what losing a sister felt like. And you weren’t letting yourself feel that again.
You saw him again. Just once. In the corridor. He turned the corner, tall, elegant, cold-eyed—
And your whole face twisted in disgust purely natural, your reaction was instinctive. Immediate.
Your face twisted sharply, disgust shattering through your tiny features like a crack in glass.
In your first life, you cried quietly when Claude walked away from you. In this life, you walked away first. Your small feet pivoted, body turning with the precise formality of someone who had already been hurt by him once.
In that brief moment, two theories formed in both your minds—
Yours: “Trash spotted. Exit required.”. His: “…Why did she look at me like I kicked her puppy?”
But you were gone before he took his next breath. It didn't took much time as he sent Felix to look into you .. well and that was a big mistake cause the man was traumatized..
Felix knocked on Claude’s door, holding your notebook with trembling fingers.
“Your Majesty,” Felix said cautiously. “The young princess has written… a text.”
Claude: “A text?” Felix: “Yes. A book, actually.” Claude frowned. “A storybook?”
“…No, sire. A manual.” “A… manual,”
Claude repeated, slowly. Felix swallowed.
“It’s called: ‘How to Run Away From Trash.’”
Claude stared. His eyebrow twitched. His soul left his body.
“…From what?” “Trash, sire.” “Which trash?” Felix whispered, “Based on context… you.”
Claude needed five minutes to process this like a man who’d just realized even a toddler had declared him unsalvageable.
From then on you avoided him like a plague... If it was a royal sport no one could beat you..
You shuffled out of your room, brain foggy, stomach empty, hair an absolute bird’s nest.
You were NOT ready to exist. But the universe didn’t care.
Because apparently, it had scheduled an early-morning humiliation for you.
And slammed straight into a solid wall of black uniform.
The universe needed to be fired.
You bounced back like a rubber ball and fell on your butt with a tiny “oof!”
Claude blinked down at you.
Blue eyes. Cold aura. That resting “I-don’t-even-like-air” face.
Claude blinked. You blinked. You blinked up at him.
His golden eyes narrowed as if examining a strange creature.
Your eyes widened like a raccoon caught stealing rice.Then your instincts screamed.
DANGER. DO NOT ENGAGE. RUN.
So you scrambled to your feet and Then—
You screamed like a kettle.
Claude stared at you, baffled, frozen like someone unplugged his brain.....and you SPRINTED.
Just zoom. A tiny ball of trauma zooming down the corridor.
“…Did she just run away?” he murmured, eyes genuinely confused.
Felix, who witnessed everything from behind him, hesitated.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Quite… impressively.”
You scrambled up, sprinted down the hallway at toddler speed, and burst into your room where the maids were folding sheets.You barged into your room, slammed the door, and pointed dramatically at the maids.
“Scrub me!” you demanded, hopping in place.
“SCRUB OFF HIS TOUCH!” you wailed, even though Claude literally hadn’t touched you.
“…Princess… he didn’t lay a finger on you—”
The maids burst into panic like soldiers receiving evacuation orders.
Buckets were fetched.Bath was filled.
Soaps were lined like weapons.You marched into the tub like you were entering holy purification.
“Harder,” you instructed with dead seriousness as a maid scrubbed your arm.
“I said harder. I bumped into garbage.”
The maids exchanged exhausted looks.
You pointed at yourself like you were covered in nuclear waste.
“SCRUB ME! SCRUB ME NOW!”
The maids: “Princess… nooo..
In short you were stripped, dunked, scrubbed, shampooed, rinsed, and wrapped in towels like a traumatized dumpling.
Meanwhile Claude stood in the hall, still processing:
“…Did… my daughter just scream… contamination?”
While you were being aggressively scrubbed, Claude sat in his office, concerned. And confused. Very confused. He turned to Felix.
“…Do I smell?” Claude asked slowly.
Felix’s soul left his body.
“N-No, Your Majesty,” he said quickly. “You are… extremely clean.”
“Then why did she run from me like a hunted deer?”
Felix hesitated. Should he say it? Should he lie? . Should he fake a heart attack?
“Your Majesty…” Felix whispered. “The princess… believes you carry… ‘emotional contamination.’”
Claude stared at the wall for a full minute.
Freshly scrubbed and wrapped in a towel like a traumatized dumpling, you stared into the mirror.
“I refuse to be emotionally infected again,” you declared like a monk taking vows.
Maids nodded along fearfully. You lifted your tiny fist.
“This time I live. This time I leave. This time I am allergic to trash.”
The maids clapped nervously. You glared.
“Not literal trash. FATHER trash.”
They clapped even more nervously.
The Day Continues… But Unfortunately for you....
When you finally left your bath, smelling like ten flowers fighting for dominance, you tried to sneak to the garden....
.....and bumped right into Claude again.
You screamed internally. Claude’s eye twitched.
“Are you going to run again?” he asked calmly.
You replied with the bravery of a lion: “…Yes.”
This was your fifth “disinfection bath” this week.
Your Avoidance Game Level: Olympic Athlete
From then on, avoiding Claude became your number one job.
He passed by the gardens? → You body-rolled behind a bush.
He walked into the library? → You yeeted yourself under a table.
He opened his mouth to greet you? → You dove behind Felix like he was a human shield.
Felix, tired: “Princess, please stop using me as barricade—”
You: “THIS IS WAR, FELIX.”
The Notebook of Escape Plans, At night, you wrote in your notebook:
“Memo #26: Claude cannot teleport but his shadow is fast. Avoid his shadow.”
“Memo #37: Windows are friends.”
“Memo #52: If Athy distracts him, use that moment to flee.”
Felix accidentally found it once and nearly fainted reading:
“Trash Alert Scale: Mild = ignore. Medium = run. High = scream.”
“If Claude picks me up, bite.”
“If he tries to pat my head, fake death.”
Felix presented it to Claude like it was a cursed relic. Claude read in silence. Eyebrow twitching.
Felix: “…Trash, sire..... Biohazard level trash.”
Claude re-evaluating every life choice he ever made.
Claude thought gifts would soften you. He chose dresses. Carefully. Thoughtfully.
When the salon owner brought them in, you pointed at the clothes like a detective interrogating a criminal.
“Which of these did that trash choose??
The owner, sweating rivers: T-These three—
You pushed those dresses away like they carried plague.
“I refuse. Remove them before I catch something.”
Athy gifted you a beautiful pastel dress one day. You embraced it dearly.... soft fabric, warm colors, the feeling of being loved for once.
“I’m glad you like it. His Majesty actually chose—”
The dress hit the floor instantly. Your face went pale with horror.
“I need a sword, cut my hand off” you muttered in a chilling whisper. “I need to burn it. Burn me. Burn everything.”
Felix: panics. Athy: shrieks. Claude (hearing about it later): looked amused
Every attempt he made to interact with you turned into a comedic tragedy.
Even the maids had started to bet what you are going to do to avoid him this time..
Your escape attempts reached a legendary 67.5 times.
The “.5” being the time you tried to jump the palace wall, saw Claude on the other side…
You stared at him. He stared at you.
You panicked and jumped BACK over the wall into the palace.
Claude was confused. Even looked offended.
“…Did she just run toward danger to avoid me?”
But then he understood that your hate towards him are not a play... It was too deep...
Athy fell into the river while you three were in boat. And you didn’t hesitate.
You jumped straight into the water, grabbed her, and dragged her to the surface with small arms that shouldn’t have been that strong.
Another boat came rushing toward you. Claude reached out his hand to pull you in.
His expression— worried. Almost desperate.
You looked at that hand. And looked away. And refused. Flat out refused.
You’d rather drown... You were sinking..... Deep...
Felix dived in after you and dragged you up himself. You were fainted you were laid on the bank and Claude stared in stunned silence.
His daughter... the one he couldn’t remember, the one he neglected, the one he never bothered with.... would rather sink to the bottom of a river than let him touch her.
And for the first time in Claude’s life…
something inside him actually hurt.
The Window Incident (Attempt #68)
Next morning after the royal physician checked you up you were walking out side your room , when you saw Claude walking toward your room.
Your soul left your body.
You ran to the window, climbed the ledge, and prepared to yeet yourself out like a tiny suicidal gremlin.
A maid screamed. Felix dropped his clipboard. Athy shouted, “Y/N NOOO—!!”. Claude: “…What in the—?”
You jumped..... Or tried to.....
Because Claude moved faster than your trauma-driven instincts and grabbed you.....
BY THE BACK OF YOUR COLLAR.
Like a mother cat grabbing a naughty kitten. Your legs kicked uselessly in the air.
“PUT ME DOWN YOU CONTAMINATED TREE MAN—!!!”
Claude held you up with one hand, staring at your dangling form.
“Why,” he asked, too calmly,
“were you about to jump out of a second-story window?”
You glared at him, puffed up like an angry hamster.
Felix choked. Athy gasped. A maid fainted.
Claude: “…I am your father.”
“No,” you corrected him, “You are a hazard.”
Claude blinked. Then....for the first time in his life...his lips twitched.
Into a smile... "Well I think you can't do anything of that you have to live with that..."
His expressions were not turning angry but into the expression of a man who has just discovered something very interesting to obsess over.
You expected him to yell. Or punish you. Or send you away. Instead… he became curious. Too curious. He followed you silently.
Watched you avoid him like he carried plague. Observed your little escape attempts with a strange fascination. Read your escape manual like it was a holy text.
He even whispered once to Felix,
“…She hates me. It's adorable?” Felix: “Sire you need THERAPY.” Claude: “No. I need to catch her again.”
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