Chapter Four - Silver Cutlery

WARNING: This story contains material that might be triggering to some viewers! Adult content! Proceed with caution!

Chapter Four - Silver Cutlery

Emoria rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she stretched her limbs out like a kitten, her tiny fists clamping and opening around the air as her toes curled. Although the bed was incredibly comfortable, her body seemed to be lost in it. It was the third day that she was left to her own devices and she was beginning to form a routine. Her bedroom had become clear of dust, the soft sheets that she had washed the previous night blew alongside the wind on her balcony as they dried. She took it upon herself to clean everything since the maids were so indifferent to her.

Emoria shuffled to her writing desk and looked over the paper sheets that had crowded the drawers. She had written every detail she could remember about the story but it had been so long since she had read it. Holes in the plot were blank and she could only rub her temple in frustration at her inability to recall anything. She had to educate herself on many matters now, the official language of the world, the history, the law, etiquette... She needed to blend in and comfortably adopt this world as her own reality.

What age did Elain meet Ezel? When did Adonis come back to the empire? Who was the duchess that humiliated the female lead? She had to know everything so that she could avoid being involved in their drama. It was not her place to come between them, and not her responsibility to protect anyone but herself. Besides, she had yet to know what the consequences of her part in the plot would be, her very existence was a threat to it.

She returned the papers to their organized chaos and made her way towards the balcony. The forest seemed to go on forever until it disappeared and fell over the edge of the horizon. It all belonged to her father, and sooner or later, her. No matter which child was more capable or loved, this world valued birthright over qualifications and favor.

Emoria licked her dry lips and took her hair between her hands, brushing through the silky strands as her eyes danced idly around the scenery. It was serenely quiet and that calmed her. She closed her eyes and laid her head on the edge over her forearms, standing on her tippy toes as she let the wind play with her hair. The season was slowly beginning to change from summer to autumn and with it arrived the change in leaves and the chilling mornings.

"Hey!"

She squeaked and dropped her hands in surprise, causing her hair to fall over her face as she hid behind the concrete instinctively. There goes her serenity, had she jinxed it?

"Hey! Girl! Come help me! I saw you! God damn it... Girl?!"

She peeked between the intricately carved columns and watched as a red headed boy with his hands on his hips tapped on the ground with his left foot. He was clearly annoyed and his expression was perhaps proof enough of it. Apples were scattered all over the floor and a basket rocked on the side of the pebble pathway. Who was this rude child? A few moments passed and he refused to budge, his black eyes glaring up at her hiding spot as he waited.

"Girl! Don't make me angry and come down here! Can't you see that I fell over? I'll tell the head maid that you're snooping around the manor!"

Emoria grit her teeth and clenched her right fist at the mention of that old hag. She peeked her head off the edge of the balcony and glared into his eyes before she stuck her red tongue out at him in a mocking manner.

"Be quiet carrot boy. Go pick it up yourself."

"C..c...c...Y-Y-YOU!!!" His cheeks turned a shade similar to his hair before he stumped off. While he swung his arms from side to side like an upset cartoonish character, he abruptly stopped to turn around and look up at her.

"I will make you pay for this!"

His threat fell on deaf ears before he huffed and disappeared into the oak trees. The black haired beauty grinned at his reaction and shut her balcony door. What a spoiled brat. Was not one person sane in this world? Everyone sounded mad, was she Alice? Did she slip into the rabbit's hole? When will the mad hatter show up? Was there a going back? No, going back was simply death.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A polite echo drew her attention to the large door of her chambers.

Her heartbeat accelerated as she practically ran to her desk, crumbling the papers and gathering as much as she could between her arms before chucking them into the fireplace. Nobody must know what she knew, her eyes were wide as she watched the final edges of the evidence turn into ashes.

"Emoria... You might not want to talk to me right now but I convinced father to let you join us for dinner tonight... Please don't be stubborn and come, okay? I..I am sure that if you just apologize to him that he'll forgive you!"

A chirpy voice spoke from the other side of the wall, the words muddied by the wood that separated the pair of twins from each other.

Emoria stepped closer to the door and laid her hand on the golden handle.

'Apologize? For what? Breaking a vase or being born?'

A lump formed in her throat as she felt unwilling to reply to the girl on the other side. Her sister seemed to care for her like one does for a cute animal, a pet. Rather than standing up to the oppressor, this child was taught to force the victim to surrender, to give up their pride- to be trampled on. Avoiding conflict and accepting submission was a better alternative than protecting one's own pride and self against injustice.

Her pearly teeth caught the flesh of the inside of her cheek as she bit down into it. She had encountered people like her more times than she would have liked in her previous life. Individuals who were privileged enough to not have suffered a day in their life, their greatest sorrows being minor inconveniences to their grand standard of living.

Emoria's arm fell to her side as her head tipped up towards the ceiling. She waited for the girl to disappear.

"Please Emoria, just apologize to father. You have inconvenienced him and you know his temper- please don't blame him okay? He is trying his best for us... I hope to see you there."

The voice trailed off before the sound of footsteps faded into the hallway.

Cool fingers brushed against her lashes as she held her hands over her face. So it was like this here too, for people to stand on the sidelines and cheer for their favorite gladiator only for them to chastise them for winning or losing a battle after the game was finished. She could not fully blame her, Elain was but a child.

She had probably never missed a meal in her life, everyone around her spoiled her rotten with jewels, dolls, and gowns. She was the center of attention, the apple of her father's eyes. What did she know of suffering? What did anyone like that know of suffering? You could sit them down and explain every single detail and thought out eloquently and yet they would still tilt their head in confusion. You can explain to them the hell you live in, but pity and generic advice is all that would ever be returned to you. What do people know of one other's suffering besides the faint imagination of it?

The doll slipped on her torn pair of shoes and patted the plain brown dress down to look presentable. Emoria probably never had the courage to face her father, even when Elain had invited her for dinner. The trauma and fear of messing up, of not being good enough for respect, of being compared to her sister probably caused her self esteem to be flattened down to nothing.

Emoria straightened her back and painted on a nonchalant expression, the fury and anxiety that was bubbling up in the pits of her stomach was hidden away with a mask.

...

It took a while for her to figure out where the dining hall was located. She cautiously moved from room to room, archway to archway. Everything was decorated grandly, every window with a tassel and intricate fabric, every surface with sculptures and bouquets of a mixed variety of black roses and pine branches.

All this wealth and his own flesh and blood was wearing shoes that a beggar would look down on. What a joke.

The maids gasped at the sight of her and scampered away whenever they could, not even bothering to bow their heads to their master's eldest daughter. Was it fear or disgust? Who knew.

After what seemed like a mile long stroll, she could finally smell the faint scent of food. Her stomach twisted with desire. Milk and stale bread was by no means enough nutrition for any person. Her feet stopped behind the door, toe to toe.

Why was she delaying it?

Was she scared?

Emoria pushed on the heavy doors and stepped into the room. It was surprisingly not as pretentious as the rest of the manor. A humble dining table and portraits of the sea littered the dull blue walls. the curtains were pulled back to let in some light. Two sets of cutlery and plates accompanied by a picture perfect father and daughter. They both shared the same onyx eyes that seemed to shine by the candlelight.

"Emoria!"

Elain exclaimed with excitement, her face brightening as she put the spoon down. They had already begun to eat and that embarrassed her for a moment as she stood by the door, it felt like she was intruding on something intimate. An awkward minute passed before a gruff voice spoke.

"Set her a plate."

Her father waved at a shocked maid before she started placing the shiny silver on the mat. Emoria sat opposite of her sister, her eyes exploring the sight of the delicious food as her mouth practically overflooded with drool. She eagerly grabbed the largest spoon available and began scooping up piles of vegetables with almonds, slices of meat that dripped with sauce and pieces of honey buns that glistened like gold.

A disgusted sound left her father's mouth as he glared down at her with disapproval.

"Do you not have any manners? Have you not seen food before? You look like a pig right now."

His fork fell onto his plate before he stood up to escape, as if the mere sight of her irked him. Elain gasped and ran to her father's side, clutching the fabric of his expensive suit pants.

'Really? Had my appetite insulted him that much?'

Emoria's hand shook as it clenched the spoon, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. What did he know of anything? He could have cared less for the education of his daughter or her well-being. How she had to dip the bread into the milk, making a sloppy soup because it was so hard to chew. A strand of hair fell over her eyes as she spoke.

"No."

They stopped in their tracks at her voice.

"No, father I have not seen food before. I have seen bread as stale as a brick, sometimes with blue and green dots plaguing it. Have you ever had the chance to try and consume something like that? No, you're far too regal for that. No, father I have no manners. From where would I learn them from? You or the maids that won't even acknowledge my existence?"

She wanted to cry and was furious with herself for letting this small thing hurt her. Emoria pushed the chair back and walked past the pair. She stopped before the doors and turned around once more time to meet his cold eyes.

He was a tall man, a loose white fabric fell comfortably over his muscles. He was probably very attractive in his youth, but now his eyes were barren and the deep bags underneath them revealed his age.

"Even pigs are loved by their parents."

Before her words could turn to bite her in the back, Emoria hastily left the scene. Her hands shaking against her sides as she bit back the curses that threatened to leave her pretty little mouth.

...

The sheets comforted her as she wept, the corners of her lashes now furiously red after a couple hours of emotional relief. She sniffled and turned to her fireplace to throw in more branches. The room felt incredibly cold and she did not know how much longer she could live with this measly fabric over her.

The sound of something scurrying past her door made her tense up, she grabbed the nearest weapon to protect herself- which ironically turned out to be a pillow. She truly impressed herself sometimes. After half an hour of silence, she mustered up enough courage to open the door. Confused by the emptiness of the hall, her eyes moved down to the floor.

A tray of pudding, chicken, honey buns, and fruit lay uninterrupted for the starving girl.

Author's Note:

If you have enjoyed this chapter, please do not forget to show your appreciation by adding to collections, rating, voting, and commenting!

Thank you for your support, it keeps this project alive!