***Marigold Constallion***

The Soranians aren't so bad, I guess.

Prince Nierxes is kind of hard to talk to since his Arthronian isn't good, but his bastard is practically fluent. Usually I don't get along with other girls so quickly, but she's hardly like the other princesses and duchesses that I had to put in their place.

Mother seems satisfied that I'm getting along with them, so that's a bonus. We don't spend as much time together since my sleeping schedule has been kind of messed up and now I'm wide awake at midnight and dead asleep through lunch. Mother's not really a morning person, though, so it doesn't matter much.

She used to be, though, back when she could run her hand through Poppy's hair and laugh at Father's jokes. But Poppy is gone and Father might as well be.

I don't bother asking Mother about him anymore. She gets slit-eyed and defensive, like she's the only person who has the right to know anything. Like she's the only person that misses him. It's not fair.

Sometimes I'll catch a servant carrying a platter for his meals, which is pretty much the only sign that he's still alive. It's depressing because I know that nothing's actually wrong with him.

Father used to struggle with mood swings. Pretty bad ones, I think. I just remember being little and hearing fights that didn't make sense followed by strained silences during mealtimes or Father being absent altogether. Then the next day, or the next hour, even, the suffocating atmosphere would magically disappear and everything would be happy and normal and it was like Mother and Father never fought at all. But they would, eventually. And it would happen all over again.

Then one day he sat us all down to say that he was sorry, that he would never do it again, that he would be fair and kind and everything that a father and a king should be.

And he kept that promise. Maybe he and Mother had bad days, but it wasn't like the screaming and ugly words they spat at each other before. Maybe those days are where Mother picked up her mean streak - I don't remember anything specific, but sometimes Father said things that made my toes curl.

Everything was fine until the dragon swooped in and killed Rose, the heiress to his legacy and his favorite daughter. Like Mother, he was really bad at hiding it - that he had a favorite. Mother coddled hers with little touches, caresses, pet names and presents. Father did that stuff too, but that's just how he was as a person. When he actually cared about someone he listened to them.

Rose always had something on her mind, some new theory or riddle or observation - whatever it was, it was going to be clever. And everyone loved to hear what she had to say. Especially Father. He would lean in, a finger lightly pressed against his trimmed beard, nodding and drinking in every word like it was made of gold. I was never able to get that from him.

I head outside into the gardens, sit in a hidden alcove and blow out my candle. Usually I meet with the Soranians after sunset, but I'm not in the mood. Besides, I'll look desperate if I try to hang out with them every day.

I watch the stars for a while but I hear people coming closer, so I make myself smaller and try to squint through the leaves.

The outline of the Soranians and their voices become clearer, only I have no idea what they're saying because it's in Zefaric.

Their body language is different, especially the Prince's. With me he's stiff shoulders and polite nods. Without me around he throws his arms in the air in exasperation, ranting about something I kind of wish I understood because the bastard's actually laughing for once. Not a dry chuckle, but an actual, real laugh. It's quiet, but I can see the silhouette of her shaking shoulders. It actually looks like they're having fun.

Then just as I blink the bastard lunges at the Prince.

When I open my eyes the bastard's pressing the Prince against the ground, the heel of her foot shoved against his shoulder blades,  locking his arm behind his back as leverage.

Before I can figure out what the hell is going on, the bastard makes a remark and steps off. Grumbling, the Prince pushes himself off the ground rolls his shoulders back.

She places her hands behind her back, waiting. The Prince goes at her, but she sidesteps effortlessly. Then he tries again and again and again, but he keeps missing. She moves like liquid, like smoke, it's like trying to hit a mirage.

The bastard makes a sweep for his feet, but the Prince hops over and thrusts an elbow into her stomach. Or, at least, where her stomach would have been if he was a bit faster.

I watch them fight under the stars and wonder what it would be like to be able to do that.

Girls aren't supposed to be strong. Smart, maybe, because they don't have much of a choice - but not strong. It's just not attractive.

I wonder what it's like to not worry about staying beautiful. To scar and tan and sweat. I guess it doesn't matter because I'll never know. My appearance is my sword. I can't let it dull - I'll be defenseless.

I chew my lip and wonder when the next royal ball will be. I won't be hosting one anytime soon. Maybe never again. But maybe another kingdom will be hosting one soon? Then I can go and surround myself with pretty girls and nice dresses. None of them will be prettier than me or have a wardrobe nicer than mine. They'll run their hands over my pearls and laces, cooing with little oh's and ah's while they seethe on the inside.

I hate being the only girl in the castle. The bastard hardly counts and Prince Nierxes is a boy so he'd probably be fine wearing a potato sack. What's the point in being the best if no one's competing against you?

The bastard says something and the sparring comes to a stop. Her silhouette turn towards me and doesn't move, still as a corpse's shadow.

"Who's there?" she asks. Her quiet, whispery voice has an edge like steel.

"It's the Princess, bastard," I reply, returning the sharpness with a confidence I don't really feel. It's sort of hard to lord over someone when you know that the only real thing stopping them from snapping your neck is status.

"Forgive me, Princess," the bastard says, inclining her head as I make my way to them. "I didn't know it was you."

"Well, now you do," I reply.

"You were watching us?" asks the Prince, wiping sweat off his forehead. "That is creepy."

The bastard shoots him a look.

It took a little while for me to get used to the way these two acted around each other, like they're equals or something. Mostly what I'm surprised with is how the dynamic is allowed. I know if Mother saw a bastard so much as disagree with me, they'd be shipped off the castle. Assuming they'd been allowed to stay in the first place.

"What?" scoffs the Prince. "If something is creepy then I am not going to call it not creepy. She stared at us behind a bush for longer than is not creepy."

"Well, I would have stepped out sooner if you didn't make it so fun to watch your butt get kicked."

Prince Nierxes' jaw drops while the bastard stifles a snort.

"My butt was not getting kicked. I got kicked everywhere but my butt, if you were looking any attention."

"Yeah, yeah," I respond, rolling my eyes.

"I would like to see you not get your butt kicked in a fight!"

"I wouldn't because I don't fight," I reply. "I pay people to fight for me. That's what money is for, dummy."

"How boring," Nier scoffs.

"I'd rather be boring than get my butt kicked."

They both laugh and, I don't know. It's nice. Really nice.

___

A/N: Marigold/Cal chapters are the ones that aren't horrible, so I'll post them while I rework the story.

I feel EHhhH about this chapter, but. Hope you guys like it.

This chapter is dedicated to Gabs_cool123 because I see you voting and holy shit my friend, you've been here for a hot fucking minute.