The princess was coughing blood.

Private sufferings weren't meant to be glorified, and they were much more painful compared to being shared with others. No one could hear her- she had requested to be alone on the afternoon of her birthday, and that she would only be disturbed towards the evening. Her tears mixed with the blood on the floor, and the little princess fought for air and bodily stability as she not only gasped due to lack of oxygen, but she also shook uncontrollably as well. Riliane's signature yellow gown was stained with blood, and she was clutching at her tiny body with her feeble hands.

In all its glory, the golden sword of promise lay still on the floor as the princess suffered.

The air got thicker, robbing her of free will and speech as it once again, like the last time, clouded her vision and judgement. Riliane felt like throwing up; it was nauseating, it was painful, and she wasn't even granted a small amount of liberation to gather herself. Silent, wrecked sobs escaped from her parted lips, and as much as she fought to breathe, she found herself getting even more disoriented than she already was.

'Don't move,' a voice said. 'Relax.'

The princess absolutely couldn't do that; she was dying.

Riliane didn't know who was speaking to her, or whether she should even listen. What she knew was that she was a complete mess on the floor, writhing and crying as if she had been wrecked by a terrible seizure, bleeding from her mouth as the name of the only illness that she could think of popped into her mind.

Gula.

The plague. The plague.

Riliane could almost taste hare meat; raw hare meat in her mouth, and it tasted delicious. Delicious. Ravenously scrumptious.

She remembered her mother suffering from Gula- she was too young to witness the sufferings of her father, the king. Riliane was banned from being near her beloved mother, who was generous with her motherly hugs and kisses, for her mother could not give her those affections any longer. Rumors were circulated around the palace that the benevolent Queen Anne Lucifen d'Autriche was once seen feebly asking for food, but not just any food that the kitchens could whip up.

She wanted raw game, uncooked, with the blood still smeared, and she didn't even care if there were remains of fur or whatever the vultures left over.

The princess thought that they were playing cruel jokes, spreading numerous lies, until she saw her mother eat that horrible, unrecognizable mass of bloodied animal meat in her bare hands, staining the sheets as she cried at her own self-morbidity. Then her mother vomited blood- red, sticky blood that didn't seem that much different than the blood of the uncooked pieces of animal fat and muscle, with the veins still twitching (oh, she could've sworn that they twitched) in her hands, and as Queen Anne shivered, her tears mixed with the blood and whatever she had vomited on the bed...

Little Princess Riliane was with Elluka Clockworker, the queen's greatest friend, and even she couldn't bear to watch.

'Listen. Listen to me,' the voice said again.

In resistance, Riliane slowly, shakily, touched the sword. Maybe it would save her. Maybe it would stop the voice in her head from talking, maybe it would help her breathe better, maybe it would ultimately save her from this so-called madness. She had heard tales about asylums from Elluka, and that people in there raved on and on about nonsensical things. She had heard about people stripping off their clothes, parading around naked as if they were emperors with new clothes, demanding others to compliment on how pretty their new clothes were, and how colorful they were, and how fine the silk was-

Her eyes widened.

She was going mad. She was going mad, and she will die.

'Be comforted,' the voice said, as if it was the voice of the angel of God himself. 'Be comforted; you are not going mad, nor are you ill. That is the sword of glory; the sword that will save Lucifenia from shame and disgrace.'

The princess's thoughts were halted.

Riliane stared at the sword in its shining gold scabbard, embedded with precious stones; diamonds and rubies. It was not a heavy sword- she had lifted it up the first night that it appeared, and for once, she realized that the sword was made for her own hand. It wasn't too big, it wasn't too small, it was perfectly fit for her own hands, and the horrific memories of her past were slowly scared away by the realization that she was alright.

"S-Save...L-L-Lu...ci...fenia...?" she stammered, looking at it with awe, wonder and disbelief.

'I have given you the desire to save Lucifenia from deteriorating. You alone have the power to revive it to its former pride. Take up the sword; take me up, and the enemies of Lucifenia will fall one by one.'

The night was cold- it snowed outside, but the merciless winter was subdued by the words of the spirit, as if they were the warm rays of the sun granting amnesty to the suffering poor who experienced the chills of the cold. The princess looked at her fireplace, which was snuffed out of its fire, and then at the sword that glowed its shining light of promised glory.

"T-This...is..." Riliane breathed as the room was illuminated with the warm and powerful light.

'Superbia. The pride of Lucifenia, and with my power and your will, you will be the greatest among rulers.'

So this is what it is.

The assurance that Lucifenia will be saved.

This was her calling, to lead Lucifenia to victory and glory.

Riliane began to ask about the identity of the voice, but she was slowly hushed by the same voice like an intended lullaby. Her eyes felt heavy, and sleep soon took over her senses, rendering the little princess unconscious on the floors of her quarters, clothed only with the presence of a demon in the night who watched over its vulnerable patron. Hair as fair as finely spun gold. A visage that has the unearthly beauty of angels. A form that the demon was most comfortable with.

It took the appearance of a man, a man so beautiful that most would mistake him for a messenger of God. A hand mirror reflected dimly in the moonlight, but the demon paid it no heed as he merely gave it a small satisfied smile before kneeling down to the princess's sleeping form.

'Leave it to me, dear princess,' the demon of Pride assured. 'Leave it all to me.'

je ne regrette rien
a Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche fanfiction

Chapter 4
for there are arduous challenges.

December 27, EC 499
The birthday of Her Royal Highness, Princess Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche of Lucifenia
Morning to afternoon

There was a time when Irina Clockworker had asked the famed scientist, Seth TwiRight, about whether he had loved anybody in his life.

Her savior wasn't a decent man, but he certainly was more cultured than the average scientist. Her savior wasn't a man who had a soft heart; if he did, he would barely survive in a deadly decadent magical court. Her savior survived something that ninety-nine percent of the populace of the Magic Kingdom Levianta could not, and as he kept his own life intact, he granted her a saving grace in life.

Well, there was one thing that she knew about him; he was unhealthily ambitious.

Maybe that's what saved him after all.

When she had asked him that question, TwiRight certainly looked more surprised than she thought that he would be. He blinked his brown eyes behind his rectangular spectacles; Irina was uncomfortably reminded of her own brother in turn, who exhibited some of this scientist's traits. The way they got excited whenever they discovered something. The way they looked when they concentrated hard on something.

The way that they looked uncannily alike.

As if it had happened yesterday, she could still remember his pointed sigh, as if he really didn't want to answer that question. He probably didn't.

"Why would you want to ask me such a question?" TwiRight asked back in his usual smoky tone.

"I'm curious," she responded, and she could still remember how she sounded back then. Deep, curious, inquisitive.

TwiRight had pushed up his glasses in the same manner in which he would give a smart-assed answer in return, but to her surprise, he found nothing to say. He paused. He hesitated. His eyes were different; instead of being constantly steely and sure, the look in his eyes wandered to possibly happier times, times when he had an enviable position in the greatest country in the continent.

She could remember what followed next; he cleared his throat. He had an answer already, but it was only a matter of how he should put it. How he should phrase himself to make himself sound at least dignified and not pathetic. Or maybe he would keep the secret buried deep in his heart of hearts, not intending to share the answer with her despite her being his sole companion in life.

As the Royal Victoricia sailed onward to Lucifenia, Abyss I.R. closed her eyes as she inhaled the breeze on the deck, reminiscing old times in where there was a momentary silence of peace. She drowned out the sounds of burly sailors demanding their lackeys to prepare to drop anchor upon arriving at Lucifenia, the orders for the ship's slaves to at least clean up the minute algae that washed up on the naval glory of Marlon and everything else. The smell of the sea must've been fortifying to the Marlon natives, but it reminded her of every reason why she hated sea voyages in the first place.

The night was cool, the stars were absent. The moon- what of the moon? How many moons had she seen throughout her lifetime? How many people had she met in her life thus far? Abyss I.R. remembered the confused young duke who held onto a desperate longing for love, the father of a cannibalistic warlord, a young queen who wanted nothing more than vengeance against her former best friend...

She thought back again on that question that she had asked TwiRight. The silence that TwiRight had given her back then could've been an indication that said: 'I won't tell you anything,' and that she should stop hoping for an answer altogether, for pressing him on and on would be childish folly.

But then she remembered receiving an answer.

TwiRight opened his eyes, she remembered. He opened his eyes, and then she remembered being horribly shocked. The amount of guilt in his eyes were so alarming that she remembered staring into them for a while despite knowing that he wasn't even looking at her in the first place. He was taken back to a time in which he had incredibly happy memories with the person he loved, only for something to have happened that took those moments all away.

He took a deep breath, and she patiently waited.

"I did, but I ended her life," TwiRight eventually responded.

She remembered being disappointed. She remembered that at that very moment, there was a form of closure, a form of confirmation. She couldn't relate to him anymore; despite everything, he was still a man who had his own regrets and dwelt on them heavily.

It was sad, really.

Sharing the same face must mean something. There was something in common with her brother, Kiril, and this seemingly ambitious scientist. They had loved, and they had lost, and they had wonderful memories of their loved ones. Maybe their experiences in love were different, but to Abyss I.R., they were the same. Love was love, and whether TwiRight's love was reciprocated was his own secret to hold.

She had guessed that TwiRight had ended his beloved's life by stripping her off of her authority and eventually throwing her in the dungeons.

She imagined that even in the dungeons, that prophet queen still remained a beautiful rose. The most beautiful queen in the Magic Kingdom. Even with her unrivaled beauty and kindness, those traits did not help her from prevailing.

So with that thought in mind, Abyss I.R. opened her eyes to see the endless night sky being laid out before her, reminding her that everything was uncertain. That two people could have the same face and still have the same traits, no matter how many or how little.

Then let there be another person with her same face.

She smiled to herself bitterly.

"Ambassador Adi, is the view to your liking?" the young king of Marlon smiled at her in pure courtesy. Abyss I.R. looked over, then laughed as she shook her head, feeling entirely nauseous. The sea, by god, the sea was making her sick.

"I think I'm going to throw up," she said lightly, then turned, lowered her head to face the sea and outright puked.

That was the previous night, and on the morning of Princess Riliane's birthday, King Kyle Marlon and Ambassador Mircea Adi arrived on Lucifenian land.

Minis Stoup, Prime Minister of Lucifenia, had informed the princess of their early arrival, along with the arrivals of many others in his usual displays of laughable pride, yet the princess was having none of that. Right as she began to speak to Leonhart about her nightly revelations that afternoon, the withering, old prime minister waltzed right into her quarters and gave her a useless list of those attending that evening's party, sans permission.

With harsh threats and shrill yells, the prime minister was ejected from her quarters in less than two minutes.

Leonhart, in his awe, looked at the golden sword as Riliane presented it to him as carefully as her hands could hold, and despite it being a small sword, it was long enough to be dangerous. They both knew pure gold at the mere sight and feel of it, and even after the previous night's encounters, Riliane found it very hard to believe what happened, yet the existence of the sword solidified her faith.

"Last night," Riliane began, "what I believed was a divine spirit had told me of this sword, of what it could do."

"A divine spirit?" he asked in wonder, looking at the stern yet strained expression on the princess's face.

"One of God," she replied, with an alarming amount of certainty.

The knight touched the scabbard of the sword, surprised at the fact that it was made with pure gold and pure jewels. "Of Levia?" he asked again, still in disbelief.

Riliane's blue eyes lowered down to the sword, which gave off its shine due to the presence of the streams of sunlight that made their way through the gap of the partially drawn curtains. The last time she had ever prayed to Levia was during her mother's funeral, wishing for her mother's soul to find eternal peace and rest beside her father in the Heavenly Yard, in which all souls would go to regardless of their sins, so long as they repent of them. There were no mentions of heavenly messengers in the holy books, nor of angels with wings and whatnot.

So it mustn't have been the case.

"I'm sure it was of Levia," Riliane responded cautiously. "What other gods do we have? Lucifenia certainly doesn't approve of the other sect that practices demon worship, and the god Held seems to be completely mythical altogether."

The knight took her reasoning, deeming it sound enough.

"The very existence of this sword is a sign," Riliane continued, folding her hands primly on her lap as she spoke. "A sign that Lucifenia is in dire need of salvation. We have been too complacent for too long. Therefore, I wish to ask for your advice on the matter, Captain Leonhart."

"I will advice you the best I can, Your Highness," Leonhart smiled a little. "What is on your mind?"

Riliane paused.

"...You know better. Please tell me what I need to know," she simply said.

Leonhart widened his eyes at the rarely used bit of knowledge, then laughed sheepishly as he scratched his head, proceeding to pat the princess's hands as she blinked in surprise at the captain's sudden actions.

"W-Well, you don't have to be so formal at that, you know, Princess Riliane!" he laughed, seemingly being himself. "It's not the end of the world, and I'll be really glad to help you no matter what. I'm sure that this country will do fine; there is a sign from Levia, so nothing would go wrong."

Riliane looked down at his large hands, which were completely covering her smaller, softer ones. Hands that were roughened from years of training. Hands that held much, fought much and endured much; hands that had the strength to hold up the whole country.

Or the whole world.

Leonhart expected a smile, or even a small flicker of irritation, yet Riliane didn't show any of those. Her eyes were like those of a person who was solely determined on something, yet has not seen or experienced what he or she wanted. It was uncertain, it was frightening, but most of all, it was scary. The princess was like a doll, obeying every single whim of fate without question.

"...That is good," Riliane nodded, recovering herself, much to his disappointment. "That is good."

Germaine Avadonia looked over at Chartette Langley and Ney Futapie, holding up a dress. "Please tell me this one's ugly."

"It's beautiful~!" Chartette squealed, nodding her head. "Wear this one, wear this one! Don't you think it's pretty, Ney?"

The blonde-haired maid's thoughts were clearly somewhere else, looking out of the Avadonia residence's living room window as if she expected someone to arrive. It was a beautiful afternoon; the sun was shining, the snow was still blanketing the ground, the birds were chirping somewhat and it was pleasantly warm in the house. It was ironic: here she was, the adoptive daughter of the Head of Maids, of the hero specialized in espionage, yet here she was being a guard.

"Ney? Earth to Ney?"

Ney looked over at Chartette, then at Germaine. "Oh. Oh, that's beautiful. Wear that."

"What's wrong?" the brown-haired woman asked. "You've been staring at the window for ages."

A new ambassador. Abyss I.R. had never told her of a new ambassador. Was this something that she was meant to be told sooner, or was it something that she wasn't meant to know? Ney's head hurt as she thought and thought on it, but at that present moment, she had to think of an excuse. A convincing excuse. Fast.

"A-Ah..." Ney began to stutter, faltering in her speech. "I...thought..."

Chartette looked a little worried. "Ney, what's wrong?"

Shake a bit. Bite your lower lip. Tremble. Clutch your hands to your maiden heart.

"...I thought...h-he'd be here..." the blonde-haired maid said, in a voice full of embarrassed longing and hopeless girlish infatuation.

"No men allowed here," Germaine huffed. "By the way, can you make this dress in a way that makes me look like an old lady? Thanks."

A/N: Posting this chapter for my friend, who passed on this fanfiction to me for completion. She typed up all the chapters already, but she gave me the account to be the writer of her fanfictions. She does hope that everyone would understand that this fanfiction will keep going for as long as she can muster her ideas, and she thanks you all.