Rise of the Unfavored Princess
Chapter 79

Chapter 79: Ch. 79: Ultimatum

I don’t think I’ve ever received a more poignant lesson of my current status in this world than right at this moment. John is holding me gently and the knight duo who are requesting Augustus’ presence are more comedic than frightening, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m about to be presented to my older brother like a schmuck.

The deep red tent looks luxurious, only upstaged by a foreboding black tent in the distance surrounded by heavily armed guards. The emperor. My sperm donor.

The first time we had seen each other I’d been full of hope. The Spring Ball had gone according to plan as I’d upstaged Julia and shown my face to the upper echelons of the empire. Augustus was a distant, scowling figure I’d hoped to win over with my cuteness the same way I had once won over the royal guard. If I were a main character, perhaps it would’ve all gone according to plan and I would be living la dolce vita having gotten my dad to divorce Empress Katya by Chapter 2 and charming every being with a heartbeat by Chapter 10.

But this is not a fairy tale. Or if it is, it’s the unfiltered, original versions full of blood and cruel lessons carved onto one’s flesh.

A knight steps out of the tent and our eyes simultaneously widen when they meet. It’s Di- I mean, Robbie, Emma’s swordsmanship instructor and one of the youngest royal guard members. I realize now that he and my oldest brother must be around the same age and yet he still looks like the same freckled brat I’d gotten to know on the manure scented fields near the barracks. We both stare at each other in shock, but he recovers faster and quickly clears his throat.

“His highness bids you entrance,” he answers to the two knights ‘escorting’ me, throwing repeated glances over his shoulder as he holds open the vermillion curtain.

The drapery snaps shut behind us, hiding away the early morning sun and leaving a shadowy, spacious interior. The tent is relatively bare, furnished solely by a thin cot, a desk laden with papers, a standing iron mannequin holding his armor, and a trunk. Tufts of grass lie dead in the walking path between the mannequin and desk, with the grass by the cot nearly good as new.

.....

With his hand buried in his short mane of pitch-black hair, Augustus is slumped over the desk furiously writing away on a scroll. We are forced to wait a full minute to the scritch scratch of his rough bristle brush on paper until he looks up and sees us. Augustus, a crown prince long tempered by our father, did not react as viscerally as Robbie, but a spark of surprise danced into his golden eyes.

He turned to Robbie for an explanation, but the upstart just shrugged as well.

“What is this?” he asked carefully from bow-shaped lips, the only distinguishing feature that isn’t from the emperor. This is the first time I’ve heard my brother, the male lead, speak.

Perhaps the two knights who escorted me in, Colson and John, can sense that the air is wrong for there is long hesitation as one clearly tries to bate the other into speaking. Augustus isn’t particularly intimidating in my opinion. Little more than a scowling teenager, albeit an incredibly handsome scowling teenager, Augustus lacks the gravitas of my father. He hasn’t seen as much darkness and carries a certain idealism that hasn’t been dashed against the rocks by life yet. It makes me want to pat his head, a little bit like he’s a younger cousin.

Of course, not having a presence that can literally kill people does tend to make one less frightening.

Nonetheless, I can almost swear that chubby Colson’s knees are knocking against one another as he and John drop into formal bows before repeating what he said outside the tent. I’m firmly tucked under John’s arm as Colson says, “Greeting, your highness. We discovered this child spy from Sarsaval hidden in our military rations.”

Augustus quirks up an eyebrow in confusion. Robbie squints and leans in closer to ensure he isn’t mistaking my identity. If I could, I’d smack the taste out of their mouth for not recognizing me. But honestly, I’m not that mad. I thought I would immediately get tortured in ten different ways before I’d be able to show my face in front of someone who’d recognized me, but I’ve lucked out and gotten an economy-class ride under a foot soldier’s sweaty armpit all the way to Augustus.

“...Just leave her be on the floor and exit,” Augustus eventually decides, his brows furrowed as he properly sets down his feather pen. “Speak of this to no one.”

“But your highness-” Colson begins to protest, before John discreetly thumps him on the back. Without any preamble, I’m dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes as the grass cushions my fall. Both foot soldiers rise simultaneously, the contrast between them and my brother like heaven and earth as they slowly shuffle out after bowing again.

“Obviously, the crown prince wishes to personally interrogate the war criminal, Colson,” John scolds quietly as they lift the curtain.

“How sharp you are! Before long, we will win this war and finally return home,” Colson chuckles. The curtain cuts off the rest of their conversation and leaves me behind.

It is now that the damnable Dick bothers to speak. “Your highness, she is-”

A dark expression rolls over Augustus’ face like a storm cloud. “I know very well who she is,” he cuts off Robbie immediately. “Help me don my armor.”

“Yes, your highness,”

Like father, like son. If the glare he just shot my way were a weapon, I’d very well have been cut in half just now. Any rational individual would cower in the face of the boy who will one day inherit this massive empire, but there must’ve been something in last night’s paan because I replace myself more annoyed than anyone else.

I’ve escaped from certain death in the imperial palace, had my patience tested by upstart child hooligans who may or may not be my new friends, been attacked by assassins who look like they’ve jumped right out of an Assassin’s Creed video game, and hiked through fields of corn for hours without a clue if I’d live to see the night. And I don’t even like corn!

I’ve just survived through the kind of trials the Greeks wrote famous novels about and after being battered and bruised within an inch of my life, I have more than a few choice words for my brother. In the NovelFire, he was such a noble, charismatic fellow, albeit rather two-dimensional. I’m not quite certain what got lost in translation now that we’ve met face to face.

“Are you not going to say anything?” I grind out through clenched teeth while standing to my feet. “Augustus?”

Gold eyes clash against gold, the displeasure within each heavy. But mine is much, much heavier.

I pick off errant pieces of grass from my worn, stained skirt, attempting to maintain a sense of levity in my voice. “I’ve had a terribly long journey. Typically I’d assume any well-raised gentleman would have the decency to check if his female relative were in good health after such an occasion, let alone a crown prince.”

Augustus ignores me as Robbie assembles his armor, looping leather ties through silver buckles with a well-practiced speed. But I can see it, when his right hand tenses up suddenly into a fist before he releases it. It gives me all the encouragement I need to stroll through the tent like I own the place, winding up conveniently at the desk he was bent over moments before. Maps are strewn all over the place and the entire place stinks of high-quality ink. Only the best for Crown Prince Augustus, even on the battlefront.

“Oh dear, to think you were pouring so diligently over war matters. But, however do you think you’ll be able to protect a country when protecting one little girl proves to be such a difficult matter for you?” I tsk slightly, smiling inwardly as I outstretch my claws for the first of the obvious insecurities any prince in the line of succession would have. “Perhaps Julian would be better suited for such matters. As far as I can tell, he usually stays in the palace with Mother and I, yet Father brought him out to the campaign. It seems that sooner rather than later, I shall enjoy the sight of someone new riding on Father’s right-hand side.”

During the last parade, Lord Wolfgang had been riding to Emperor Helio’s left, while Augustus rode on the right as the successor. There’s a very sharp intake of breath and I don’t have to look up from the dizzying array of maps to know what it is. I smile slightly to myself. To think riling up Augustus would this easy.

There’s a sharp clank of metal as Augustus yanks his newly armored arm free from Robbie and storms over to the desk. “Why did you come here?” A metal hand slams onto the desk and causes all the papers on it to jump. I carefully tuck away all the pent-up, ugly emotions from the past few days into a little box, allowing a careless smile to dance across my face.

It’s my first time seeing my older brother up close. The air around us drops below zero as his chilly rage surrounds us like a brisk, autumn breeze.

“My name is not You, it’s Winter silly,” I chuckle slightly, still standing on the chair of his desk so I can somewhat meet his eyes.

“I don’t care. You will promptly return to the palace at once. I will send a knight to escort you.” Each word comes out harshly, without room for argument.

“A knight?” I giggle and put on a confused expression. “You can’t very well be referring to the royal guard who all curse my existence regularly for a crime I didn’t even commit?”

Robbie, who’s an unwitting spectator of all this, turns away shyly at my dig. Dick.

“It doesn’t matter. I will arrange someone and you will leave promptly without allowing your presence to be known. You do not belong here.”

“It seems that I do not belong anywhere but in a coffin. For if I return to the palace, I will surely meet with misfortune by the hand of our mother.” I maintain the tone of levity as reveal a truth to Augustus, watching closely for his reaction. There isn’t a single flicker in those gold discs, of shock nor of disdain.

“But you don’t care, do you, Augustus? That I may die?” I casually glance over a pile of unopened letters and the elaborate letter opening knife sitting on top as a part of me still clinging to hope of a warm reunion crumbles to dust.

Augustus lets out a loud huff of air, turning away from me.

“Sir Robbie, go arrange an escort for her immediately,” Augustus sharply orders, causing Robbie to scurry away. He doesn’t know me yet he spits out the ‘her’ with such disgust. Something deep inside me snaps and in the box with my turbulent emotions, I slowly tuck away my heart as well.

Back in the palace, Empress Katya had always quietly pondered in her post-beating musings about what my naive, little heart would look like on a platter still beating.

“You would feel much better without the burden of one,” she had laughed gayly, her gentle peals sending shivers down my spine. If she were to cut me open now, there would be nothing but a cold, empty cavern. And looking at the unapologetic, hateful teenager before me, I realize that in a way, Katya is right. I feel much better without any expectations of familial love or even friendship and civility between us.

Take a good look Winter, I wish to say not to myself, but to the foolish crying past Winter who still cries in my dreams occasionally.

This is your family. The people who tore you away from your old home, but couldn’t be bothered to make your strange new one comfortable or even survivable. The ones who watched with the very same gold eyes you have, as your reputation was besmirched and your head was decapitated at the tender age of 16. They, who were supposed to cherish and love you most, but couldn’t care less to investigate your death until the ditzy, lovable female lead decided to. You never asked to be a part of the imperial family, so why did they punish you for it?

Robbie has run off with his tail between his legs and Augustus now puts on his armor himself, albeit rather angrily as he tugs aggressively at the straps. I grab the pretty letter opener knife, pleased to see that the tip is sharp enough to cut through flesh just like paper.

Please watch Winter, as I take back everything this family owes us and then some. Watch, as I make them beg for our forgiveness, for our love. Watch as I make everyone who has ever wronged us pay the price.

“Oh Augustus,” I sing playfully. My brother flings a glare over his shoulder and then freezes. Hesitation coats his body like ice and I smile maniacally as I hold the letter opener knife even closer to my carotid artery, close enough for each pulse to raise my skin to kiss the cold metal.

This trick would never work on Emperor Helio. Prince Julian, who I know is an adult like me underneath his skin, would not be too phased either. But for Prince Augustus, a teenage boy yet to obtain the capability to handle such an unforeseen circumstance, his eyes fill with fear.

“Be a good brother and arrange for me a bath, a tent, a team of guards for that tent, and a large breakfast. Otherwise, the crown prince of the Erudian Empire will have to explain to everyone why he murdered his poor, defenseless, baby sister in a fit of mad rage within his tent for all to see.”