Chapter Text
As an aristocratic woman, you must be quiet and obedient at all times. Do not forget your place.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, coming to a sudden stop as she sharply turned and wrenched open the ballroom doors. She hurried inside and spun around, checking for any other sign of life. When she confirmed she was alone, her shoulders sagged, finally releasing them from the stiff posture she constantly bore. With no one else around, she saw no need to keep up appearances. Even if it was just for a while, she would cherish this moment where she could truly be herself.
Remember- we are nobles, far above the common riff-raff that you seem so intent on imitating. You are a Lawrence. Start acting like it.
Raising her hand to her hip, she unsheathed her blade- it was finely crafted, with a beautiful blue hue and elegant patterns engraved into the handle. It seemed to glitter under the lights of the chandelier, casting stray beams of lights across the walls. The broad edges of the sword added an extra weight that grounded her, though some said that such a large was unbefitting of a lady such as herself. The voices swirled around her head, never ceasing.
Practicing swordsmanship again! Eula, we have told you countless times that such a hobby is below you! Put that ghastly weapon away before we make you!
Unfortunately, she was no longer able to publicly practice with her cherished blade after that. All she could do was wear it on her hip as a decoration- how ridiculous. Of course, Eula was nothing if not stubborn, and so that didn't stop her from swinging it around in the privacy of her room. Her grip tightened around the handle as she took a deep breath, and began to move.
There was no music- all she had as a guide was the steadily increasing beating of her heart and the rhythm of her breaths. But it was enough, for she found her own pace as she elegantly twirled, swinging her blade and handling it with such grace that one would not believe it's true weight. The clacking of her heels created a unique melody as she danced in the ballroom. She swayed and stepped, her long, flowy dress billowing around her as it rose and fell with her movements.
Her arms raised above her head as her frustration mounted, adrenaline now coursing through her veins- her breaths came in shorter puffs, heart beating out of her chest with every thought and every step she took.
She was so close to the climax, only a few more moves to go.
(The storm of thoughts swirled together until the sounds all merged into one wretched, grating voice)
Eula took a deep breath.
(All those thoughts she pushed down, the frustrations, the tears, the restrictions- they reared their ugly head and screamed-)
Eula Lawrence was not a noble.
(Except she was, and she hated it endlessly.)
And so she did what any good, little, obedient noble daughter would do to deal with their frustrations: she launched her blade at the nearest object.
Of course, the fact that it shattered a prized heirloom that was passed down from generation to generation in the Lawrence bloodline was not her problem. In fact, she would even be a little generous and take it as payment for all the grievances that came with being a Lawrence. A small piece of vengeance, if you will. At least it was a beautiful sight- the shatter had echoed off of the walls and definitely alerted someone to her location, but she couldn't bring herself to care- the colourful ceramic and glass shards flew across the room, creating a kaleidoscope of colours. Her frustration was momentarily alleviated- maybe she should break more precious vases.
She found solace in her small act of rebellion; noblewomen did not act this way. They didn't despise their position or secretly swing their swords- no. They sat quietly and enjoyed tea parties and useless chatter. They turned up their nose at the mere thought of- dare she say- a commoner. It didn't matter that this kingdom had very prominent issues among the lower classes- namely the problem of finances and the lack of food, so naturally it didn't matter that the very cause of this issue was the nobles themselves. No, of course not.
All Eula had to do was sit pretty and silent, and learn to value having riches and tradition over caring for the people. Which would be easy if she were simply a naive girl, but Eula was anything but; she was certainly not ignorant of the corrupted nobles in power (which included the Lawrence's), and she did not wish to ignore it.
On multiple occasions, she had ventured out of the estate to check on the people herself. There were children and starved civilians lining the sides of the streets, begging for even a morsel of food- how could she simply live in bliss knowing this was taking place? Naturally, she took the chance to exact some vengeance on her family, throwing out large stocks of food (All in the name of Lawrence!) which were then left freely for the hungry to take. Eula had been confined to her room for a week after that, but it was worth it to see the children eagerly digging in to what must have been their first proper meal in a very long time. A small smile softened her face as she fondly recalled the memory. Unfortunately, she couldn't pull the same stunt again- the food stores were now well guarded and she did not want to increase surveillance.
The sound of footsteps broke her out of her stupor.
Sparing a glance in the nearby mirror, she quickly straightened her posture and smoothed down the creases in her dress. As footsteps approached the door, she took a deep breath. Everything would be fine.
The door swung open, revealing her father and his steward, the latter’s eyes nervously flitting about the room before drawing a connection between Eula and the remains of the vase, visibly paling. The steward- Edward- almost fainted, yet miraculously regained some composure and dabbed at his wrinkled forehead with a handkerchief. He quickly leaned up to mumble something in his master's ear, before stepping back. The taller man, her father and the head of the Lawrence house, appeared unphased. He simply straightened his tie before taking a few steps in her direction. Her father had an imposing figure, radiating an air of absolute authority and snobbism, which was only amplified by his perfectly fitted suit and polished shoes. He sniffed at the scene before him, and the two met eyes.
‘Eula.’ his eyes swept across the room once more, landing on the vase, before continuing. If not for the clench of his fist at his side, Eula would have thought the man to be completely calm in that moment, though from experience she knew which tells to look for. ‘Do you truly understand the gravity of what you have done?’
His voice shook with a deep, burning anger, and Eula couldn't help but flinch. Her father was a quick man, and understood what had taken place without asking. Not trusting her voice, she nodded.
Speak only when you are spoken to.
‘Actions have consequences. Was this not one of the first lessons I taught you? As a Lawrence, you should know better,’ as he spoke, he drew closer to her, until he was staring down at her from the bridge of his nose.
Brows furrowed, lips downturned- Eula knew what he would say next. She knew it all too well. She’d heard it on many occasions; the food store incident, when she continued to practice swordsmanship, when she refused to dance at the annual ball- she knew.
‘I am disappointed in you.’ There it was.
If there was one thing Eula was talented at, it was disappointing her father. He did not see her rebellious streak in the same manner that she did, only assuming she wanted attention or was bored. Such was the case with other noble children after all, but Eula never did fit in well with that crowd.
Contrary to popular belief, Eula did not rebel simply for the sake of it. No, she had a reason. Simply put, she never wanted to be a noble- this path was chosen for her, and she was expected to follow. But what if she didn't want to follow this path? What if she wanted a different life? She would fight with every bone and muscle in her body until she had the freedom she needed- and so she did. The noble life was far too restrictive; Eula couldn't even choose her own hobbies, and the only thing her family remotely approved of was her love of dance (albeit without her sword). Day in and day out, more and more rules and restrictions were piled onto a plate and served to her, but what if she didn't want it? In the kingdom of freedom, everyone was allowed to choose their path, and Eula felt she was no exception.
This life was suffocating, and Eula was running out of air.
She hung her head, only to conceal her pinched expression as she fought to suppress her inner turmoil. Edward seemed conflicted, twitching and fidgeting before he eventually seemed to come to a decision. He hurried towards the pair.
‘Master Edgar, about what we came her to tell Lady Eula,’ he whispered.
At this, her father seemed to snap back into place and relaxed, shoulders drooping ever so slightly. Internally, she thanked Edward for the distraction. She couldn't bear the weight of her father’s disappointed gaze any longer.
‘Ah yes, I had almost forgotten. As further evidenced by today’s incident, we have decided to assign you a personal guard.’ He stroked his beard, continuing before Eula could even process his words, ‘The decision has already been made and there will be no rebelling against this, do I make myself clear?’
A guard. A personal guard.
So they were finally fed up with her, it seemed. The guard was just an excuse to have constant surveillance on her, and from Eula’s reputation as the Lawrence’s rebel, she doubted she would be able to trust them. Instead of bringing her closer to her desired freedom, she had only been dragged further away. Was she truly doing the right thing? Eula couldn't be more unsure. Her activities would now be heavily limited (As though it wasn't suffocating enough already), and with an added way to monitor her she doubted she'd be able to sneak out or enact more of her acts of vengeance. What if she couldn't even practice dancing or (secret) swordsmanship anymore?
Unable to deny a decision already made, Eula responded, voice steady, ‘Yes, father.’ This was something she could not rebel against, and she mourned the remains of her freedom.
‘Good. Now that you are aware, prepare to meet your guard immediately. I will be waiting in the lounge- do fix that messy hair of yours. Edward, call someone to clean this mess,’ he looked at Eula over his shoulder, hand on the doorway, ‘Don’t disappoint me.’
Edward nodded, dabbing at his cheek with his soaked handkerchief. He hovered at the door, reluctant to follow after her father.
‘Lady Eula, please do not be too afraid. This decision may seem sudden, however the master spared no resources in hiring one of the best knights to be your personal guard! I am sure you will get along well! You’re both around the same age, after all, and-’
‘-Edward. I understand,’ Eula sighed. She understood Edwards attempts to calm her, but this really was sudden and she was struggling to keep up- not that she let it show. If all she could do was follow along, then she wanted to get this over with and retire to her room where she could process the events of the day. ‘I’ll be there shortly.’
As soon as she saw his back disappear around the corner, she sighed heavily. Edward was one of the more… pleasant people to be around. However, he had a tendency for worrying that often ended up adding to her own anxiety, and Eula did not need the extra nerves. Remembering her father’s words, she looked to the mirror once more and smoothed down her hair. Once her ribbon was secure, she deemed herself presentable enough and began to make her way to the lounge.
There were a few outcomes she could think of that may come from this meeting:
1) The knight is a decent person, and though they do not like Eula, they do not attempt to make her life difficult and simply follow her father’s orders.
2) The knight is a terrible person and makes this fact known.
From the few social interactions Eula has had with other nobles, she has deemed herself an outcast. Whilst it does get lonely sometimes (though she would never admit it), it is better than having all eyes on her as the ‘Rebellious Lawrence’ and sitting through stifling gatherings where the other ladies attempt to not-too-subtly insult her right under her nose. Thus, if the latter option makes itself a reality, Eula has ample experience of fighting fire with fire- two can play at that game.
If her knight does intend to make her life a living hell…
Then she'll just have to exact vengeance, won't she?