Chapter Text
“Father, why do kingdoms fall?”
”My dear, there are many reasons. There have been many kingdoms that have fallen.”
”Will this one ever fall?”
”No, never. House Nether is strong. We have had a long line of strong sibling rulers, and Sam and Puffy are no exception. As long as the sun stays in the sky, The Badlands will not fall.”
Her father’s words ring in Niki’s ears as a wide-eyed Atlas shoves a shaking Ranault into her arms with a quiet plea—or perhaps an order—of ‘keep him safe.’ She stays in place, holding tightly to the younger boy, watching the older prince take up a sword from a wall decoration and run back to the besieged ballroom. She runs through the halls, eyes stinging, lungs burning, and hand aching from how tightly she holds onto Ranault’s. Oh dear Goddess, Ran’s cries pierce her ears. She tightens her hold on the twelve year old, her Ranboo, her prince and brother. Poor thing, today was supposed to be a good day, a celebration. Everything has gone to hell. As the walls of the palace crumble and the sound of clashing metal fills her ears, Niki can’t help but think that her father lied to her. Why did he lie? The sun still stands high in the sky, and yet the Badlands Kingdom is falling. Why is that?
Niki skids to a halt before running into a pile of rubble. She makes a sharp turn, ignoring Ranault’s cries to slow down. She almost runs into Antarctic guards, and makes another sharp turn into the servants’ tunnels. Niki scrambles for a new plan. The main entrances and exits must all be blocked, so the only possible safe route is to use the tunnels. She continues to run through the tunnels, stopping only to decide which way to go. She can only pray that she’ll find an exit. Finally, she notices a laundry room, one with small windows. She gets Ranboo to ditch his cape and crown and hoists them up through the small window, and he pulls her up after him. Once in the courtyard, they continue to run towards the gates. Niki hears the shouts of Antarctic guards behind them, terrifying suns emblazoned on their breastplates.. She urges Ranboo to pick up the pace. They keep running, but at one point she notices silence. She looks behind her, and she’s alone. Ranboo’s gone, where is he? Where are the guards? Niki sinks to her knees, in the middle of the street. No, no, no, no, no no, no! She lost the crown prince. Hell, she’s lost them both! She had one job, one order, and… she failed. She failed the crown. Lost in despair, she doesn’t notice the wagon heading towards her.
“Your Grace? Your Grace, are you alright?” The butler’s concerned frown fills Niki’s vision as she snaps up from the chaise. She ignores the twinge in her leg as she takes the man’s hand and stands up. She smoothes out the wrinkles in her dress, and tries to neaten her now-disheveled updo.
“I’m fine, thank you. Did I fall asleep?” The moment the words slip from her lips, Niki realizes that that was a stupid question. If the butler agrees, he did not say. Instead, he simply nods.
Niki begins to walk towards her office, the butler following after her. “Was I causing a disturbance, perchance?” Admittedly, it’s no longer often that Niki gets the flashbacks, but they always end up causing a scene.
The butler grimaces. “Aye. You were… screaming” he admits. “You were calling for,” he clears his throat. “You were calling for Their Highnesses.”
Niki frowns to herself as she sits at her desk and pulls out the ledgers. Right. A full decade, and Niki still can’t get that night out of her head. The clashing of metal, Ranault’s choked sobs, Atlas’s barely concealed terror, the subtle shake in all three children’s hands. It haunts her. Niki looks up and smiles wearily at the butler.
“Ah well, I suppose it’s just one of those days. I’m sorry if I spooked anyone. Anyway, is there news from my father?” she asks.
Niki already knew the answer when the butler shook his head. “I’m afraid not Your Grace. The letter that arrived two weeks ago is the most recent news we have.” Figures. The Emperor holds a tight leash on him. The Emperor seems to operate under the logic of ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer under threat of death for them and their House if they don’t comply.’ It's quite complex logic, clearly. He’s only allowed one letter to the Badlands territory a month, and he always uses that letter to update Niki on his whereabouts and the capital. Niki assumes that it’s probably to prevent her father from conspiring against the Empire with the other Badlands nobles. She still thinks that upholding that rule for nearly ten years is a little paranoid. But then again, Niki figures, the Antarctic Empire didn’t become the largest on the continent without some paranoia.
Realizing that she had spaced out while thinking about her father, Niki nods and dismisses the butler. With a small bow, the butler walks out.
Almost immediately, Niki slumps down in her chair, the full weight of her memories finally weighing on her. She sighs wearily with an exhaustion far older than her twenty-three years. She fiddles with her earring and smiles sadly as she traces the piece with a finger. Her finger brushes over metal as she counts the gemstones. In order, red, pink, purple. Red for Atlas—he’s the oldest, so he’s first—pink for Niki, and purple for Ranboo. The brothers had given her a bracelet for her twelfth birthday. When she inevitably outgrew it, she had the bracelet made into earrings. It’s a calming item on the days the memories of the invasion plague her waking thoughts. Sighing— she’s been doing that a lot lately, hasn’t she? —Niki turns back to the ledgers.
Paperwork had never really been Niki’s favourite part of running a territory. Granted, it constitutes a majority of her job, but it is incredibly teious and quite frankly boring.However, it is one of the few things Niki really has to do around the manor. Niki doesn’t know how many hours pass as she examines trade reports, issues permits, and signs off on budgets. She even looks through the pile of invitations to various events and gatherings she has little to no interest in. Honestly, Niki doesn’t know why the ladies of high society would continue to send invitation after invitation when Niki never accepted any of them. Though, to be fair, Niki also doesn’t know why she still bothers to look through the invitation pile when she knows she’ll just toss them away anyway.
It’s probably only her title that keeps getting Niki invitations to such events. The older Badlands Kingdom ladies, the old friends of her parents, probably only do it out of decorum, a small courtesy to keep the marchioness from being totally forgotten by high society. Though Niki doesn’t really care about social death and being forgotten, it is nice that her parents’ friends still remembered her and cared a little bit about how she fared in high society. The younger, new ladies, the ones from the Empire, probably only do it in a bid to better their own reputations. Imagine the stir that would be caused if one of those ladies actually managed to get the elusive Badlands marchioness to actually show up to an event! And in the empire proper no less! Niki scoffs as she reads one such invitation. As if Niki would ever want to fraternize with the insipid nobles of the Antarctic Empire! She shuffles through invite after invite embossed with the crest of this or that noble house. She doesn’t recognize any of them, and the territories they come from are all held by Empire nobles. Honestly, she’s starting to get annoyed with these uppity Antarctic nobles. One would think that not having a debut, or never presenting herself in front of the Emperor, or never leaving the Daelien territory would give a very clear message of ‘leave me alone.’
Ah, well Antarctic nobles were never very good at staying out of places where they weren’t wanted.
With a flick of her wrist, Niki swiped all the invitations into the rubbish bin. Now Niki knows why she allows the invitations to accumulate on her desk. It’s actually kind of fun to swipe them into the trash like that.
Niki continued to work. At one point, who knows when, a maid had brought dinner on a tray. Niki absentmindedly ate the cheeses, cold meats, and olives as she filed papers. She continued working, losing track of time, the papers at hand the only thing she was concerned about.
When the sun began to set, the butler rushed into the room, waving an ice blue envelope.
On it, the imperial crest of the Antarctic Empire is embossed in silver.
Niki’s blood runs cold as the Empire’s sun emblem stares back at and into her. Niki stares in horror at the emblem that has never meant anything but bloodshed, loss, and fear . The sound of swords clashing fills her ears.
Niki tries not to let her voice waver as she tells the butler, “G-give it here. Please.” Fear laces her every word.
Not even bothering with a letter opener, Niki rips open the envelope. Inside, a seemingly innocent sheet of cream colored paper peeks up at her. With shaking hands, Niki pulls the paper out of its envelope. With mounting horror, Niki scans the words on the page.
His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Philza Corvidae of the Antarctic Empire cordially invites Her Grace Marchioness Niki of House Daelien to the Imperial Palace. The Imperial Family hopes you shall grace us with your presence.
As she sits frozen, trying to come up with a response. The awful words stare back, taunting her. Niki shakes in silent fury as angry tears try to force themselves up. That bastard. That damned bastard. What’s he playing at? He’s already taken her princes, her sovereigns, her kingdom, and her father. Was that not enough for him? Does he wish to gloat now? Ten years later?
“Your Grace?” The butler’s voice cuts through Niki’s spiraling. She snaps up to look at him, and she sees the sadness and pity in his eyes. “Would you like me to prepare a response?”
Niki nods. “Send word to my father as well please.” The butler leaves, and Niki is left alone.
A summons from the Emperor is in no way optional, despite what those sickeningly sweet words may suggest. Niki is just confused. Why now? After ten years? Niki would’ve been so happy to stay in her territory. She would’ve never caused a stir! She’s happy being a recluse. She just wanted to forget everything, and let the world forget about her.
A fire that Niki hasn’t felt in ages fills her blood. And yet, despite the anger that runs hot in her veins, she no longer knows what to do with it. She just feels… cold.
And so, resigned to her fate, she numbly walks back to her rooms. She finds a luggage set on her bedroom floor. She takes the smallest bag and tosses it onto her bed. Not really bothering to organize things properly, she tosses the contents of her vanity into the bag: perfumes, rouges, and hairpins. Seeing the hairpins in the bags causes Niki to pause. The Empire ladies favor loose hairstyles much more than the braided updos of the Badlands. The pins might not be used. Niki keeps the pins in the bag anyway. She then moves onto the vanity drawers. She throws in the mirror, a jewelry box, and some other trinkets. Vaguely, she wonders if she should’ve let the maids handle this, but she continues to mindlessly fill the bags. Opening another drawer, she comes face to face with her journal. She gingerly picks it up, and sits down to read through it.
She hadn’t actually written anything in it over the last seven years. There really wasn’t anything to write. Ever since Niki turned nineteen, all she did was manage the Daelien estate and the surrounding territory. Before then, all Niki did was take lessons on how to run the estate. She flips through the empty pages to get to the pages with writing in them. She sees the meager attempts at writing she made until she turned sixteen. Most entries say the same thing.
Dad says that everyone is dead. Sam, Puffy, Ranboo, and Atlas. They never found Ranboo’s or Atlas’s bodies. I really don’t think they’re dead, but wouldn’t they have come to find me if they were alive?
I had nightmares about the invasion. Dad says they’re normal.
Dad is going to the Empire. He doesn’t know when he’s coming back.
I had nightmares again. I dreamt that Ran and Atlas were still alive.
Dad sent me a letter. He’s not coming back.
I had nightmares again.
Niki’s heart aches for the thirteen year old left alone to deal with grief and the reality of an invasion. She remembers how her father had holed her up in the estate, with promises that it would keep her safe. Niki was never really consoled by those words. She never really got closure either. There was never a funeral for Sam and Puffy, nor for the princes; it would have been treasonous to hold a public service. Instead, Niki had just placed roses in the garden at four large stones she had used as tombstones. She had still been nursing a broken leg from the day of the takeover, but she had still insisted on moving the stones herself. Her father and the butler had simply watched her sadly.
Niki turns back even further. She saw much longer entries, accompanied by crude sketches and photographs pasted into the book. She reads entries recounting the mischief she had gotten into with Ranboo and Atlas, starting from when she received the journal on her tenth birthday. Niki starts to tear up when she sees the photograph that accompanies that first entry. At the time, the camera was the new biggest thing, and Sam and Puffy had proudly hired a photographer for her birthday. She was standing in the middle, her family surrounding her. Ranault’s massive grin matches hers, while Atlas gives a much more subdued smile. She remembers he had insisted that because he was twelve, he was far too big for such displays of emotions. Behind the children, her father, Sam, and Puffy gave matching smiles to the camera.
Niki smiles, even as tears start to freely fall. Wow, today really is an emotional day, isn’t it? And yet, looking at the faces of her family, she can’t really be upset at the tears. She places it carefully in the bag.
Finally composing herself, Niki stands back up to continue packing. She looks through her closet, realizing that none of the dresses she owns would be appropriate. The gauzy, flowing dresses of the Badlands had slowly phased out over the past decade; only the older ladies and ones most stuck in their ways continued to use them. This included Niki. This unfortunately meant that nothing in her closet would match the styles of the Empire, and wearing Badlands dress would stick out too much. She also realized that none of her dresses were made to withstand the colder climate of the Empire’s capital, instead suited to the arid heat of the Badlands. She also doesn’t have any cold weather clothing. Niki sighs once again.
Not really feeling like having to talk to anyone, Niki took a piece of paper and wrote out a request to the butler.
Please put in an express order for a coat, scarf, gloves, a crinoline, corset, a pair of boots, and a traveling suit in Empire fashion. I plan to leave in about five days, so make sure everything is ready by then. Please make an order for day dresses and evening gowns, and whatever else those dresses may need. I’ll arrive in the capital in two weeks after I depart, so have my father pick them up. Thank you.
Reading over the letter, Niki places it on the hallway table right outside her door. The butler will come and pick it up eventually.
Turning back to her bed, Niki just stares at the bags. She walks to her bed, and sits down. Exhaustion finally catches up to her. Pushing the bag on her bed to the side, Niki lays down and stares at the ceiling.
It looks like she has a journey to make.