Chapter Two

2•••

   Not a word is distinct. No matter how hard you press your ear to the door, you can't understand the muffled voices in your father's headquarters.

He has been speaking with Rufus for a little over twenty minutes and you were already on tenterhooks past the ten minute mark.

You feel guilty for whatever faults your father is resting upon your coach. You lost the race yourself, your responsibility in its entirety and it was just a pre-meet, but nevertheless, you should be taking the brunt of the blame.

You feel even worse because this wasn't just one of your antics or as ironic as it sounds, innocent rebellions. This was the beginning of the Cup. The Cup your father won and the Cup you will claim as your own to continue the Park streak. To break it, it is to break the three generations of champions.

To your father, you're already a step too close to doing just that.

When the door knob fumbles from inside, you jump back and straighten your dress.

Rufus pulls the door open and steps out to the hallway, closing the door behind him. "Good afternoon, Princess." he has the meek curve to his lips as he greets you dearly, beaming at you like you are not the reason for being reprimanded only moments ago. "Did you enjoy the pre-meet?".

"Rufus," you avert your gaze down, "I'm sorry about the race."

"Pardon?"

"And I apologize for my father." you say, because you know your father more than anyone else and he would not have brushed this under the rug so easily. And the silence from Rufus tells you that what happened in the headquarters was exactly what you were thinking. Father has put the responsibility of your loss on him and because Rufus is Rufus, your unfailing, trustworthy coach, father to your best friend- he will not complain nor show his despondency.

"It is no matter, Roseanne. It happens. I know you tried your best."

You really can't look him in the eyes.

"You always do."

You hate to have disappointed him.

"Let's work harder for the real race, agreed?"

You nod your head.

"I should go help Chanyeol and Lisa at the stables. Those two were bickering before I came up here." you shy a laugh as you can imagine them both. "Your father is waiting. Rest well tonight, Princess." he excuses himself and disappears down the hall.

It is merely the afternoon and you've already felt a full bucket of emotions. You wonder what will come next with facing your father. You have quite the idea.

"Hello, father." you say, walking in his headquarters. You plop on one of the sofa chairs in the middle of the colossal room.

Your father sits at his ornate, wooden desk. A pen in hand, he has his nose and slim framed glasses to the papers flat in front of him. He is still wearing the suit he was in yesterday. You ponder what economic crisis is keeping the King from sleep this time. You wonder if it's importance is greater than supporting you at the stables today.

"I heard King Tae-oh's daughter flourished the course this morning."

You anticipated this. The passive-aggression just as well as the lack of salutations. It is an old routine but still ruffles your restraint to lash out every time. All you're asking for is a hello, but he has not even taken a glance at you.

And you roll your eyes as you're reminded of the brunette.

"I hope it was a tight race."

It was just a pre-meet.

"I suppose you'll be putting more hours into your training?" this is his way of telling you to do as he says- put more hours into your training. He has already told Rufus, you conclude. "The Cup is a month away."

"I know." but you look at the widespread calendar on the wall anyway. The 5th of May could not come any sooner. "That is enough time."

He sighs, heavy in disagreement. Have you had done that, he would snap his head up and reprove of your behavior. But at least he would look at you.

"Did you welcome the Northerners well?"

You clear your throat to suppress the scoff. "I didn't get to meet with King Tae-oh and Queen Ara after the race, but Jisoo noted they were pleased to be present at the deck." you tell him, "their little Princess was quite a character." - or there, lack of.

"Yes, I've heard lovely things about her."

"Excuse me?"

"In fact, I'm looking forward to meeting her at tomorrow's brunch. Do wear something comfortable, Rosé, a breathable fabric would do under this weather."

You look at your father in quiet disbelief.

There's a weight settling in your chest awfully quick.

Father knows.

He knows, but still chooses to call you differently every now and then. You don't know why, but you know he acknowledges how much you dislike it. You've been very clear and firm about it many times before and all you irk to do is repeat yourself one more time- perhaps, another ten hundred times- each for every breath you wasted all these years trying to get him to just understand that a person's sentiments are to die with them- put to rest as it is theirs to take along.

"Rosé, are you listening to me?"

That name belongs to your mother's tongue. Her voice and hers alone.

"That yellow sun dress of yours should be fitting."

The irritations of the day have vanished and you don't even give his primary statement another thought.

You stand up.

"Your Majesty." On cue, Jisoo enters the threshold.

"Yes, Ms. Kim, do have a chat with Roseanne about the upcoming lessons. I leave it to you both to make Princess Jennie feel at home."

You ignore Jisoo's eyes on you.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

You've had enough conversation and need a change of venue. A place to stray from the wave of unwanted thoughts threatening to consume your mind.

You head for the door.

"Off to the library, Roseanne?"

"Maybe." you mumble, "or to paint, or to have a snack." anywhere.

You open the door.

"See you at dinner, father."

"I'm afraid, I'll be meeting the counselors this evening."

The air between you and Jisoo shifts. She never means to express it, but you always catch her commiserations. You turn back at your father and it seems that his absence during dinners has not taken into effect on his end of the party. He is oblivious to how much it is affecting you.

Stepping out of the headquarters, you close the door without another word as they would be of no meaning to the King's ears.

As if you have anything to say at all.

In fact, you're fighting between happy thoughts and none at all because anything but the train of missed memories would do.

"Rosie,"

"Let's talk in the crafts room." you're already heading forth the direction to the staircase.

"Haven't you thought to tell your father?"

"You mean point the obvious, that he hasn't sat down to have a proper meal with his daughter in the past five days?" You deride her question. "Please, Jisoo, if he wanted to sit down for an hour or two with me, he would." you brisk through the east wing, and down the staircase. Your heart is thumping from displeasure- distress because you're not even surprised. It is that of his old routines, but one that just hurts a little more. It must be easier to accept this father-daughter relationship if you never knew the one you used to have. "He doesn't even look at me when we speak."

Those old memories are coming back to you.

You quicken your pace into the west wing and toward the hall where your safe haven resides.

"Should I have dinner brought up to your room?" Jisoo asks kindly.

"I guess."

You force yourself to think positive- how thankful you are for the good weather, Lisa's comical jokes, Lisa's comical jokes about Jisoo's denial of likeness for Suho, Suho laughing at Sir Joo-young's bow, Sir Joo-young's bow itself. You think about the new sundress he designed last week and note to wear it tomorrow.

Tomorrow at the brunch, when that mock of a Princess will step on your holy grail. In the threshold, the Majesties will speak of civics and social classes while you and the brunette will talk princess. You almost laugh thinking she might need a little more than three months to prepare for the throne.

Then you wonder what three months with Princess Jennie would be like.

Entering the art room, you're relaxed by the soft colors of your surroundings. It would be the only clutter you would allow and that your father does not know of because he never, hardly if you would press on it, enters this space.

And just as you left them- the used pints of acrylics, watercolors, oil paints and the like, litter the floor- surrounding the finished and blank canvases displayed or standing around the room, together with paintbrushes of all sizes and palettes of all pastel combinations pleasing to the eye.

You love this room.

"Are we really going to discuss your lesson schedules or are you actually going to paint?" Jisoo asks as you gather pints of pastel colors to place them near a blank canvas and it's stand.

"Both." you answer.

Pink and green are promising together, so you pair the two on a tray table.

"Well," Jisoo sits atop a stool while watching. "the schedule is still as follows, only your father wants some minor adjustments to your training hours."

"So I heard." You take blue and white to the tray and have a seat on the stool. You bat your eyes at your friend, "And what are the activities in store for us, Chu?".

She glares at you. "Save the sarcasm, Rosie."

You snicker at her seriousness. Taking a few brushes in hand, you observe closely to decide which one would be best for the base.

"Per usual, Mondays are for equestrian and history class, Wednesdays for more training- though, at dawn through the afternoon from now on. Thursdays for literature & writing class, Saturdays for more equestrian, and Sundays are for leisure. Princess Jennie will be coming to the palace every Tuesday and Friday for partner relays until the Cup and your lessons and preparations for your coronation."

You whistle at the sound of that. "Are you sure you can handle all of that, Jisoo? Princess Jennie has a certain demeanor to her."

"What do you mean? I think you hardly know the girl to make any assumptions."

You suddenly snap. "Well she wasn't very helpful in letting me get to know her- she has an attitude and I'm giving you a fair warning that you may not appreciate it." you drown the brush in a jar of musky water and turn your attention to the canvas. With not much care, you dip the brush in pink and drag it across the coarse material.

Jisoo has gone silent for the moment.

As quick as you let your gall loose, regret comes over. You sigh and put down the brush. "I'm sorry, Chu." you didn't mean to bring out an attitude of your own. This day just hasn't been all that pleasant.

She nods her head in understanding. Even if she opposes, she wouldn't turn savage.

Because you are a princess before a friend to Jisoo. It is upsetting every time the hierarchy is subtle in the air. It does not allow room for honesty.

"Did something happen this morning?" she asks, "Last night?" she knows you very well.

You pick up the brush once again and continue on the strokes. "It was the funeral this time." you can't get the final song out of your head.

Last night would have been your first dream of your mother's burial. The past month had left fragmented memories of mother reading in the library, picking roses in the garden, writing in her study, playing dress up in your room, sitting by your bed, and the rest of the vague images your mind can recollect of eleven years ago. Only most dreams, you are the twenty-one year old you are today and they always feel too real- you had a dream that mother was braiding your blonde locks and you woke up in tears because you believed to have felt her hands. Wanted to believe it was not just in your sleep.

When you are awake, and the painful remembrances are to consume your thoughts, especially on those vulnerable days, you feel unbearable wretchedness and misery and sometimes, you start to panic- it's just like you are ten years old again.

The funeral is the first memory of your mother's absence. And you woke this morning with a heavy heart. Though, you wasted no time in your sadness and drew all your strength of mind to carry on because of the race. Perhaps, you can blame your short-temper for tire.

"I had a feeling when you mentioned painting." Jisoo says.

You fumble with your materials to busy you from your mind.

"What flower will it be this time?"

•••

True to his word, father didn't show up for dinner. You had given him the benefit of the doubt and asked the servers to set the dining table for you both. You transferred to your room when the food had gone cold.

You couldn't stop thinking about tomorrow's brunch as you stared at the dress to be worn for the occasion. You had met King Tae-oh and Queen Ara in their past visits to the palace for special events, but you wondered if things have changed. You remember them as smiling faces- in absolute contrast to your father's serious exterior.

The last event held at the palace was seven years ago.

Much could have happened between then and now. You wondered if their daughter's attitude had much to do with their parenting.

And as you had too many thoughts of tomorrow, you decided to head down to the stables for some peace of mind before bed. Lisa must have something interesting to talk about.

"Lisa?" you call out into the night, descending the ending slope of the hill and onto the gravel. "Lisaaa" you approach stables, seeing the light illuminating from within. "I know you're in there."

Just as you turn in to the entrance "Oh!" you bump into a sturdy build.

"Roseanne- oh, I apologize" Chanyeol steadies you back on your feet before stepping away to look at you.

"No, no, it's fine, I'm sorry too." you laugh, awkwardly as you didn't plan on seeing him today. "I thought Lisa would be in here." you say.

"She was only a second ago, but went to fetch some tape. I could call her to hurry if you want." he's already stepping out the stables, but you stop him.

"Oh, that's okay, Chanyeol!" you catch him by his sleeve. He retracts and smiles at you dearly. Your pulse races and you can feel the blush creeping in. "I-I can just... wait." another awkward laugh emits from you. "Sorry to bother you."

"You're not a bother at all, Princess." he remarks, walking back to the workshop table where he seems to be busy repairing old saddles. His long sleeved polo shirt is dirtied and wrinkled from a day's worth of hard work and his hair is ruffled in the most rugged yet attractive way. "How was your day, Rosie?" he looks your way and it catches your breath.

"G-Good!"

"Yeah?" he picks up a heavy saddle and carries it to a corner. His muscles are apparent in the tight sleeves and you can almost imagine the veins that protrude on his forearms and— "Lisa said you raced beautifully."

"Oh" good lord you're blushing. You're blushing hard, but you can't look away. "what can I say?" you internally cringe at yourself.

But he's smiling widely at you from his station.

"I'm glad you enjoyed." he says, kind and genuine.

You wish to ask him about his day, too. Willing to hear all the hostler jargon you find trouble in understanding and happy sentiments he may have. You hope of not the opposite, but you're willing to listen all about it too.

But Lisa comes in.

"Rosie, what are you doing here?" she asks, throwing the tape to her brother and standing next to you.

"I just—" You notice Chanyeol disconnecting from the interaction and going back to his work. "I just wanted to hang out." you decide not to bother him again.

"Want to take a walk?" Lisa suggests.

"Sure." and you follow her out the stable. Before you go, you take one last look at Chanyeol and he sends you off with a wink.

•••

Feet together, back straight, chin up, smile, "Here they come."

Father advances to the grand driveway to welcome your guests from their carriage. You stand on the marbled steps patiently. In fact you are quite eager to meet the Royal Kims once again.

Last night's walk with Lisa had put a new perspective on the upcoming events. As you were easily irritated yesterday, your friend reasoned that the Princess could have woken up on the wrong side of her bed, too, and she's just not too good at masking it. Lisa also painted a picture of the golden sunrise to look forward to during early morning trainings, spoke of how exciting it must be to be on the final stages of being a princess before queen, and how rewarding it must feel to gain a friend who would understand your view on the world from the pedestal.

She has her way with words. And you woke up in peace because she had convinced you that the Princess is just as darling as she is in the papers.

The carriage comes to a stop and a Northern guard with his staff stands by the door.

Feet together, back straight, chin up, smile.

"The Royal family of King Kim Tae-oh of Northern Marcadia, has arrived." two pounds to the gravel and the door is opened.

"Ah," the King emerges through with a beaming grin on his face. You conclude that nothing has changed. "King Mason," he rests his arms on father's shoulders and hugs him hello. "It's very good to see you after all this time."

You can hardly hear your father's modesty, but King Tae-oh's widening smile tells you he speaks of the same sentiments.

Queen Ara appears with a similar expression and only until now, you must have forgotten where Jennie gets her glow from. "How lovely to see you, King Mason!" her husband guides her out of the carriage and my father leans in for a closer greeting.

And as the Majesties converse, you trail your eyes to the blue, summer dress draping off the carriage, as their daughter- your soon to be friend, partner in royalty, and views of common ground- Jennie, appears.

You just can't deny it- you love her feline eyes.

"And here is our daughter, Jennie." King Tae-oh brings her forth your father and they exchange greetings.

You observe her from a far. Her hair falls only a little over her shoulders and you think you prefer it down like this. She suits the color blue well and is in no need of obsessive accessories to appear presentable.

Her appearance portrays decency in perfection.

"Roseanne" and the attention centers on you. Your father beckons you to join them.

Going down the steps, you lock eyes with Princess Jennie and gleam at her in a warm welcome, and you do the same to her parents with felicitations.

First hand, you notice Jennie has her father's nose and jaw while the rest of her mother's features blend in to give her the uniqueness to her face.

"Look at you, Roseanne, you're all grown up!" King Tae-oh says in shock.

"And to a very beautiful woman, dear." Queen Ara compliments.

You're grinning from ear to ear as you're delighted to meet with them once again. And you look at Jennie who actually has her lips curved upward. "It's nice to see you again, Princess Jennie." and you offer a hand.

This time, she takes it gently. "I feel the same way, Princess Roseanne." and her soft hands hold on before you start to pull away.

"Let's take this inside, shall we?"

You trail behind the Majesties and Jennie, giving them room to admire the finest archiepiscopal in all of South Marcadia. You attempt to focus on their conversations, but instead, you're second guessing the humbled expression on the Princess.

Her cat eyes do not crease according to her lifted lips and cheekbones. It certainly does not express the same jubilance as her parents- forced, almost.

Though, you try to understand.

Maybe... Under the weather.

   At the courtyard, your guests are shocked in honor to be welcomed so warmly, and you are surprised yourself. Behind the smile, you wonder where father found all this time to plan for a brunch as grand as this. He knows not much about centerpieces and what jams compliment muffins. Not to mention, the variety of pastries and savory laid out on the table.

And the table is filled.

Eggs Benedicts, poached eggs, scrambled eggs, sunny-side up— baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, potatoes and cheese- all kinds of cheese— all kinds of tea— briskets, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which you will skip), french toast, pancakes— hash browns, sausages, ham, steak, and more eggs— all plated in fine ceramics with matching ornaments and trinkets to decorate the table.

Your father only ever eats bread and butter in the morning. How could his tastebuds discern a menu like this? 

You gaze around at the faces of staffers in service for today's brunch, and landing on Sir Joo-young speaking with head chef, Kim Da-hyun by the palace doors in rather- pressed looks, you rest your case.

"Come, come, have a seat." father says. Naturally, the two Kings take the heads of the table. You sit to your father's left and Queen Ara positions herself to the left of her husband.

You untuck the chair beside you. "Here, take this seat." you say to Princess Jennie, who nods humbly and walks to your side.

   The brunch is also filled with endless conversation. Most, you only listen to as the adults speak of issues you do not delve into and people you do not know of. Only when a question is directed to you, do you speak up. And as Jennie has been doing the same, the two of you aren't holding a conversation of your own with each other. Just nodding, laughing on cue, and taking teaspoon fulls of bites.

King Tae-oh and Queen Ara are a burst of personality. They tell stories of humor and interest and know how to bounce from the solemnity of your father. To be candid, you were anticipating their boredom earlier on.

"The meal was excellent, Mason, thank you again." Queen Ara says as empty plates are taken away and all that's left is tea.

"I very much agree." and King Tae-oh looks at you and his daughter. "You know girls, I remember the brunch I had with King Mason when we were just boys your age. We were practically brothers at the end of the day!"

You gleam at this. You could imagine young princes running around this very courtyard. But you had only known your father and the Northern King to be acquaintances. Not so much as best friends. And you know that as regions are separated and issues arose in the North and South, they grew apart with no time to spare for one another. It started when mother died.

You wonder why father only spoke of King Tae-oh the few times that he did if they were such brothers.

"You were quite a runner, Tae-oh." the Kings chuckle in their memories. "Roseanne, why don't you show Princess Jennie around the castle." father looks at the brunette, "Make yourself comfortable, Jennie, you will be spending quite some time with us."

Jennie glances at her mother who nods her head in agreement. Then you catch her eyes and you excuse the two of you.

"Say, remember those sticks I used to bring when I would come around for our lessons, Mason?"

Jennie follows you through the courtyard and back into the palace. You decide the east wing would be practical to start with, as that is where the library, where you will both spend the most time in, resides. You open yourself to get to know her more.

"How was your travel here?" The palace is two hours away from the boarders and additional time from their home would estimate a longer period of time to arrive here.

"Lengthy," Jennie nods, "but I'm glad to be here.".

"We're happy to have you."

This is good.

She's saying more words in a sentence. A little bit of small talk could lead to more sentences and more ideas of who Jennie really is.

"My mentor, Kim Jisoo, has plenty prepared for us. Although, I'm not quite sure what to expect." you say, a slight tremor to your voice because small talk is as awkward as it gets.

"My dad told me there is quite a lot to learn in three months."

"You call King Tae-oh, dad?" father would shun you.

"Shall I call him His Majesty?" Jennie contorts.

"N-No, no that's— Dad is very uhm— good," you're stammering over your words, shying from Jennie's gaze on you. "Good, yes, and mom I assume, lovely."

She chuckles and shakes her head. A heat flushes your cheeks thinking she must be making fun of your embarrassment.

"What's your daily schedule like, Princess Jennie?"

She clucks her tongue, "Well..", turning a 360 degrees to observe the patterns painted on the ceiling as you've entered the foyer of the east wing. "Other than training on Mondays and Wednesdays, I'm free to do what I like."

Your jaw slacks and brows furrow in confusion. "No studies?" She should be acquiring the last lessons of history and literature as you are.

"I've completed all my schooling last year. I wanted my final year as a princess to explore Marcadia before ruling it."

"You've been around the country?"

"You have not?"

"Just a few destinations here in the South."

She gives you a look of disbelief. "I must know more about your region's landscapes than you do."

You stop in your tracks as her condescending tone hits a nerve. You wish to defend yourself- you have a busy schedule and King Mason as your father- but as the bark sits at the tip of your tongue, you clamp your mouth shut.

Trying to understand her.

"Marcadia is a beautiful country." she continues up the staircase, tracing the carvings of the rails with her fingers. "It's a shame you haven't seen much in your twenty-one years." she stops and looks down at you from the bottom of the stairs, a smug smile on her face.

You take a deep breath and ascend the steps. "I'm sure I'll appreciate its beauty someday, Princess." She follows you down the hall as you take the lead once again.

"Are you always so formal?"

"Mhm?" you didn't process the fact that she has asked a question first.

"Princess Jennie," she mocks you inaccurately. "You speak with titles, bow unnecessarily, laugh despite being detached from the humor, you even waited atop the stairs before your father gave you permission to greet us."

You write a mental note. Observant.

"You're so prim and proper all the time."

"I am a princess after all." Perhaps she has forgotten she is one too. "Do you prefer I just call you Jennie, then?" You reach the end of the hall and push open the heavy door, entering the vast, universal territory of endless stories.

"Yes, I do."

"Fine then," you turn to her. "Jennie."

"And what may I call you? As we are equals."

You ponder for a second only, "Rosie," and purse your lips.

Equals. Consider this as a closer step to friendship.

She smiles kindly to you, "Charming.".

You show her around the library, through the aisles of the sciences, mathematics, the arts, politics, literature, and history. You share facts about your region- the founding fathers, the beginning of the Park era- she knows much about sceneries of the South so you tell her your favorite. "I visit The Fickle River whenever I have the chance." You figure opening up about yourself will leave a gateway to her doing the same.

"The stones were white like crystals when I had been there." she says, leaning against the windowsill as you've passed through all the book shelves. "How often do they change color?"

"Our scholars are still studying the river's nature, but this would be the second year in a row that the river's stones changed every Spring and Winter. It changed from that white color you saw to an emerald green just last month." you tell her, fumbling with the bindings of a book to your arm's reach.

"Fickle, is a fitting name."

"Did you go to see it by yourself?"

Jennie pauses.

You face her, but she has turned her gaze to the window, looking out aimlessly and she's biting her lip. You don't know her well enough to know if her expression means what you think, so you're about to take back what you must have said wrong, but she faces you again with the superficially smile she wore earlier.

"It was a long time ago, I don't remember much."

"Oh" you nod, going to accept anything she says because you don't want to be trapped in dense air just as you two were getting along.

You write the words 'fickle' and 'river' in bold red with cross marks over on your second mental note about all things Jennie.

"Do you want to uhm..." you try to direct the topic somewhere else- anything she might want to talk about- anything she might be interested in- anything think think think- "see our stables?"

Yes- she would be delighted to meet Lisa and Chanyeol. Two siblings of vibrant colors.

"Is that it over there?" she points at the view of the obvious evidence of the course. You approach the window and your heart warms to see Chanyeol riding Orange for his daily exercise. He is swift and refined and strikingly— "You're terrible at hiding your feelings for him."

You snap your head down- Jennie inches away from your face- you jolt back, "There's nothing to hide." you say, "I don't know what you're talking about."

She's smiling broadly at you, seeing far past your lies, but you remain stern on your statements until she believes them true.

"To the stables then?" she brushes past you and you wish you mentioned painting instead of the stables.

You add to the list. Strawberry scent.