Chapter Text
Her head was cut off, the cold steel left its merciless trace through her body. The last thing she remembered was pitch darkness, no special power appeared, no hell or heaven to receive her soul. It was okay, though, she could let herself go and rest for the first time in her life.
But then, morning came.
The morning wasn't supposed to come, was it? At least not in the all too familiar room she had been waking up for as long as she could remember.
A maid appeared with clean water and a cloth to wash her face, no maid was executed alongside the aristocratic party, that was a fact. So how? What was someone else doing here?…
Wherever here was.
Perhaps death was nothing but an endless dream? If so, maybe Isis hadn't been as bad as she had feared, otherwise, it wouldn't make much sense to have such a normal and tranquil rest.
Isis took a deep breath, not acknowledging the maid in the room; she just stared at the ceiling, unfocused. Her hands traveled to her neck reflexively, it was smooth, with no trace of having been beheaded.
She wondered if in this eternal slumber she could do whatever she wanted, or if she'd be trapped inside the same room till the end of time.
Should she close her eyes and let time pass for an entire day? Let herself be lazy like she never did before? Maybe indulge in sweets and yummy food regardless of whether she gained weight or not? Was there food to start with?
Isis chuckled, she must be losing it, treating the afterlife as if it were a holiday.
Well, she did literally lose her head, didn't she?
"Princess-" The maid's hesitating voice brought her back to the present moment, she might be dead, but apparently there were things to do.
"Yes?"
“The matching brooch for Lady Mielle arrived, should I order a carriage to be ready to go to the Roscente’s mansion?”
Mielle, if that little rascal was here, then it surely wasn't heaven where she had awakened.
The yellow-eyed bit her lip, if she kept thinking about that particular family, a headache was bound to hit her sooner or later.
"Haaaa" She sighed deeply, bracing herself.
This was it, somehow hearing that simple question was enough to let her realize this was, after all, not the afterlife. Why would there be a need to worry about political ties and brooches otherwise?
Wondering whether this was real or not wouldn’t help her now. It was not like she could ask someone about it, people would suspect her to take hallucinogens. That had happened to Mielle regarding the alleged special power of the crown prince, after all…
Somehow this seemed a fitting punishment. Dealing with all this shit once again was tough.
Everything had been too much to bear the first time. To think that she'd have to deal with the nobility and power struggles once again was just plain disgusting.
Nevertheless, what was the worst of it all was knowing her adversaries had the upper hand.
Isis was so done with it all, the weight she had let go of when she was about to be beheaded was a weight she no longer wished to carry.
It had been out of her league either way. Years of working to achieve her goals ended up in betrayal by every single important person around her.
Her brother, the pitiful child she never knew how to take care of. The Frederick cub, who didn't behave like one, testified against her.
King Lohan, her alleged savior, gave her a shining and fake promise of foreign glory to strengthen her power, only to make a fool out of her.
Even Mielle, the little pawn she had tried to keep sated and loyal, ended up blackmailing her with their correspondence, ultimately becoming an extra weight to carry.
Isis Frederick had not known her place and, as a result, she failed in epic proportions.
Admitting it at last wasn’t as devastating as she had feared it would be, though.
For as long as she could recall, she had always felt responsible for bringing honor and glory to the Frederick name, but was she suited to do so? She wasn't sure she wanted to do it in the first place.
The feeling of power and being able to look down on others made her greedy, and power-drunk, and she no longer could deny it. Nonetheless, the pursuit of such things seemed insignificant now.
It was senseless, actually, the power was never real, never hers, but the ghost of her father's. The only thing she had done was cling to the past glory of the Frederick's name.
In the end, she lost. There was nothing else to add, she had been completely surpassed. She could only own her shortcomings and accept defeat. Isis wasn't deluding herself anymore, pretending to be better than royalty was useless.
She was aware now.
The raven-haired sighed again, she had never been a kind person, nor had she ever tried to pretend to be. Second chance or not, there was no need to play the role of a Saint, it didn't suit her either way.
"Alright, Mary. Bring the brooch to my study and summon Oscar there as well."
There was too much to prepare and not enough manpower to help her, she needed to get things started as soon as possible.
While her maids helped her dress up, Isis recalled the important events coming from this point onwards.
If the brooch she had commissioned to match Oscar's had arrived, then that meant Viscount Vigue was about to or had already taken over the casino, but it was too early for him to be found guilty of the dirty business he had going on there.
The crown prince most likely had begun to put the Aristocratic party in their place by controlling the taxes and luxury items, and 'investor A' was about to make an appearance.
Isis shuddered at the thought. Those two were her biggest problems.
The bad blood ran too thick between them to try and make amends all of a sudden. And Asterope had killed her once, there was no reason to assume he wouldn't do it a second time. But would she survive another beheading?
Isis didn't think so.
As for Aria, she hadn't directly done anything to harm her yet; aside from spreading some gossip. However, by being the supporter of Mielle their situation was inevitably complicated.
Either way, the number one priority was to step out of the way and avoid provoking their bad side as much as possible going forward.
"Don't repeat the same mistakes, Isis." The young woman mumbled to herself once the doors to her study were closed, and she waited for her brother to come.
She looked at the brooch, light aquamarine adorned with golden. The design was exquisite. This time around she wouldn’t intervene like she used to, this brooch wouldn't become Mielle's by her order.
Mielle had forgotten all about her brother the moment she laid her eyes on King Lohan anyway.
And Aria became Asterope’s lover, —even if they weren’t currently in a romantic relationship— she felt in her bones that fate would bring them together this time as well. Furthermore, Oscar wasn't the type to fight for someone’s affection, and if he did, he was most likely to fail against a prince.
“Sister?” A shy knock on the door was heard.
“Come in.”
The young man hesitated before stepping inside, his left cheek was slightly swollen and there was no brooch in plain sight. Oscar might be too timid to act, but he was no fool when it came to knowing how to behave in order to avoid his sister’s anger.
Not long ago, she had threatened him to obey her without question, she still remembered. Having threatened Aria’s welfare was probably the breaking point between the two.
Could this relationship still be mended?
If she gave the brooch to him now, he wouldn't understand her intentions. She'd be contradicting herself too much and too soon. The best she could do for now was to stop ordering him around. This mild character of his needed to change. It was time he started making his own decisions, but first, she needed to create a foundation for that.
“Is it possible for you to graduate from the academy within the next year?” Oscar noticed that her voice was stern, but not angry.
"I- I don't think so, sister." His eyes looked straight to the floor, flustered and afraid.
“I see. I need you to go back to the academy and focus on nothing but your studies for the time being.” The search for a new academy with a curriculum plan equivalent to the Empire's would be a priority then.
“Sister! D-did I do something wrong?” The male asked with concern, the exchanging of letters was a known secret in their residence, but he had stopped that already. There was no reason to be sent back to the academy all of a sudden when Isis had asked him to stay for a few more days. Why was she changing her mind?
“Have you?” The way her younger brother flinched at her sharp tone was regrettable, but calling him out for it wouldn’t help, “I have urgent business to attend to. The only thing I require of you is that focus on your education, there’s nothing outside the academy that should require your presence.”
“I see, I’ll do as you say, sister.”
“Alright. You may go then.”
“I understand.” Oscar’s eyes shook, it truly was a wonder how his golden eyes always looked gentle and sweet, as if they were made of sunlight; while Isis’s looked made out of gold, mesmerizing yet cold.
“And-, I'm sorry, Oscar. I should have never hit you.” The young man opened his eyes wide, like saucers. He didn't say anything else. Although this was no heartwarming moment of reconciliation, he could perceive the sincerity of her words.
The younger sibling bowed before leaving the study. Isis saw him close the door and then started to write urgent correspondence.
To avoid her demise, the first and foremost pressing matter to resolve was to put distance between her and the rebellious nobles. If her influence was weakened, by the time Asterope’s intentions of marrying Aria were known, people would turn their backs on her without blinking an eye. It wouldn't be immediate, though.
If only she could shield her little brother from the vultures that would undoubtedly try to use him… The Frederick name held too much power on its own to be cast aside so easily, while Isis could be disposed of, the dukedom could not, and Oscar was the appointed heir.
She’d have to be crafty to create a way out for herself and her brother, that was her only goal, and there was no place for vengeance in her tired soul. She had died without holding grudges, without regrets because she had done all that was in her hands.
This time she desired to live a good life, to reach an old age. Isis simply wanted to keep her head on her shoulders now that she knew how it felt to lose it.
Therefore, she ought to obtain a power of her own, something unrelated to nobility or social standing. And thankfully, someone had shown her the most effective way to obtain it regardless of gender or title in her previous life.