Chapter Text
This Beautiful Place
839
Sunrise
The sunlight kissed your skin and softly shook you awake before the soft knocks hit your door. You sat up on your bed, blinking quickly to adjust to the brightness. Outside, you can hear the early morning bustle of Mitras; people down below are already out and about. Shopping diligently. You sighed softly. Another beautiful day in this place, you thought contently.
Another round of knocks patter against your door, displacing your trance. “My lady, have you awakened? It’s time for your morning bath.”
You push the fluffy comforter from your legs and push them over the side of the bed. “Yes, Delia. I’m awake.” Pushing your feet into your house slippers, you stand and stretch. Another day in this beautiful place.
Another day in this beautiful place.
Another day in this-
Thump. Thump. Thump. “M’lady, may I come in then?”
You flush and move to the door swiftly. Pulling it open to find your maid standing at attention. “I’m terribly sorry, Delia. I don’t mean to waste your time and have you standing all day. I’ve just woken up and haven’t fully composed myself yet.”
Say what they want to hear. Be a proper lady. Hold your head high. Speak properly.
Delia’s eyes widen a fraction and settle down. After 15 years of being your personal maid, she is still surprised at how different you are from the other members of the (L/N) manor. From the people of Mitras.
“You need not apologize, m’lady. It is my job to serve you.”
You shake your head. “Nonsense. Please. Please. Come in. How was your evening? Did you sleep well?”
The maid nods enthusiastically, her eyes beaming. “Oh yes, m’lady.” She walks over and pulls the wooden tub from the other side of your large room. “Shall we?”
839
Morning Bath
As Delia diligently scrubs you clean, she tells you the events of the day. Breakfast with the family, studying, training, and then the royal ball.
“Are you excited, m’lady?”
Your brows furrow and your mind remains blank. “Uh..”
“It’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it? To be married to such a fine young man?”
Oh
Another beautiful day in this place
Another beautiful day in this place
Anothe-
“Oh,” Dalia cries as she stops scrubbing your shoulder and comes before you. “What is the matter, my child? I am sorry if I’ve offended you in any way.”
“Delia, I am afraid,” you whisper to her. She stops her fussing. She stares at you and her eyes turn from the eyes of Delia the Maid to the soft eyes of Delia Ackerman. It’s permission enough to move forward. “I am only 15, Delia. I am to be married to a man twice my age. A military officer who comes from a wealthy family. And I am to smile, nod my head, agree with him for the rest of my left, bear his children.”
She continues to stare at you, saying nothing. For a moment you begin to feel small, afraid. Maybe you should just not say anything. Maybe you should keep quiet. But this is Delia. She has changed your diapers since birth. She has practically raised you. While papa was in his meetings, and mama was being pampered by her ladies, it was Delia that taught you, read to you, told you about her life, her husband, her children. Delia knew you. You knew Delia. So you continue on.
“And that isn’t the worst of it, Delia. I-” you falter. “This place. This place is hell.” She gasps softly. “I understand I have no right to complain being that I am constantly pampered day by day. But I sit here everyday knowing that while I am eating the finest of foods and sitting in the midst of Mitras wealth, there are people below us, sick and ridden with disease, there are men and women who die for us to move beyond these walls. And I will be stuck here. A dutiful wife, inherit the wealth of my mother, my father.”
You weep quietly for a good moment and in the midst of this, Delia has pulled you from the bath and wrapped you in a towel. She holds you for some time, rocking you gently. And she lets you cry and be vulnerable and all the things a lady should not be.
Another Beautiful day in this place.
Another beautiful day in this place.
Another beautiful day in this place.
“I wish I could go far away from this place,” You whisper. “I wish I could go far away where no one is looked down upon and no one expects things from me.”
“Oh, My lady. You are so much like your father,” she murmurs when the tears die down. You look up at her, confusion evident in your features. Herschel (L/N) is a hard born Mitras resident. Born an only child to one of the wealthiest families in Mitras, he chose to enlist in the military at a young age. He was, however, required to create an heir for the (L/N) manor. He had met your mother, who already had two children of her own, and she was chosen for him. Papa was a hard man. He hardly smiled, or spoke, and was always tough on you. But Delia wasn’t lying. Papa wasn’t a pompous person. He never talked down on people, never spoke harshly about the people that lived below in the underground, never spoke enough to do so.
He never forced you to be a lady or to talk properly. But he was a hard man. He expected nothing but the best from you, being his only natural child. Studying and training were not just important to Herschel (L/N). To Herschel (L/N), it was the only way of life.
“It is true,” Delia continued. “A stubborn horse, My lord is. Worrying about people beyond the walls, below us. He had wanted to join the survey corps though your grandfather forbade it. And he was so outspoken that one, always going on and on about everyone in Mitras being stuck up mules.”
“But he’s not like that now,” you countered. Papa didn’t even speak much, and when he did, it was to push you harder and harder.
Delia laughed lightly. “Of course, he leaves the job to you. Despite him being very headstrong and tough on you, he is exceptionally proud of who you are and what you do. He is quite aware that wherever you go, you shall be okay.” You smiled lightly. “Now let’s get you fixed up for breakfast.”
839
Breakfast in the (L/N) Manor
Breakfast is a proper thing as usual in your manor. Your family eats in silence with small talk here and there. Papa sits at the head of the table, always dressed in his uniform, his medals shining on your faces every now and then.
Mama sits beside you as usual. Should a noble ever attend morning meal in the manor, she shall be caught sitting beside her prized trophy child and not the bastards. Or at least, that is what she murmured to you once.
“Have you bled yet, darling?” No one falters or drops their spoons. This is normal conversation in the household. The (L/N) children are meant to breed and carry on wealth. Of course, you are the only true (L/N) child. Your mother had been previously married to a wealthy man who had left her long before she was married off to your father. She had two children with him, Robin and Eartha. Your mother’s parents themselves were exceptionally wealthy; having owned all the mines within the walls. Gold, diamonds, emeralds were mere toys when you were younger. You never truly understood their wealth, but there was an abundance of them.
When her first husband disappeared, the deal for him to inherit all of those mines had been essentially off. And you often heard your grandparents whisper in the night “bastards” when they spoke about your brother and sister. Robin was a sweet older brother. He was hard-working, a great soldier in the MP. But they whispered bastard when they talked about him. Eartha was different than her twin. She was a lot more pompous, fully taking after your mother when it came to wealth. She loved bringing you along to her tea gatherings with her friends and rubbing your back in humor when the ladies gossiped about everyone. But even as she hid beneath those expensive dresses, and that heavy makeup, they whispered bastard when they talked about her.
Upon marrying Herschel (L/N) and giving him a daughter, Herschel inherited both his family’s wealth and the mines. And (Y/N) (L/N) was the rightful heir to those mines and that wealth.
“I have not, mother,” you politely stated.
“You understand what will happen when you do, yes?”
“I do, mother.”
Say what they want to hear. Be a proper lady. Hold your head high. Speak properly.
Your mother nodded softly, pleased with your response. “Good. Children are a ve-”
“Enough of that.” All heads turn to the head of the table where papa is staring at mother in disappointment. He lifts a glass cup to his mouth. “She damn well knows what it means. You damn well know what it means. You don’t need to have a conversation with her about it every morning. She’ll bear his children.”
“Herschel,” mother hisses in an almost hushed tone. “Do not curse me. This is an inevitable-”
“I will not sit here at the table as you pester my 15-year-old daughter about having to lay down with a man and breed children.”
And the conversation is dropped. It’s an awkward quiet for a moment until Eartha perks up. “I’ve received word that one of my former schoolmates has married a man from the underground.”
Mother gasps, putting a hand over her heart and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. If that doesn’t kill her, you think, what the hell would? “Well, I never.”
Robin chuckles. “Perhaps she likes disease-infested cock more than anything.” And he erupts in a howl of laughter despite his mother hissing ‘language.’
Eartha continues on with the gossip, papa’s intrusion long forgotten. His foul mood has been cast aside like a middle-class man. “And that is not all. I hear she paid his way to come here. And he’s been sleeping around.”
Robin erupts in a fit of laughter and mother’s face is morbid. It’s like she’s seen a ghost. “I have never understood the fascination with those disgusting creatures beneath us. They are filthy. Honestly, I don’t understand why they don’t just put them all in that survey corps. No different than the titan fodder who takes all our tax money.”
A soft giggle leaves Eartha’s lips. “That is not all, mother. I hear a gang down there is stealing from the Military Police. They stole omni-directional maneuvering gear.”
“Probably to sell it. Once we catch those things, they’ll be hanged, the lot of them.” Robin nods his head triumphantly at his own statement.
“What do you think about this, Herschel? Being the leader of the military police, surely you have a plan.”
Papa grunts. Says nothing, continues to eat.
Bile rises in your throat and you resist the urge to slam your spoon to the table. Resist the urge to stand up and scream. Scream. Scream. To the top of your lungs those people. These cursed people are humans. And they have the right to live just as much as anyone else. But you sit there, your (E/C) eyes moving from Eartha to Robin every now and then, depending on which one is spewing shit from their mouths at the time.
Shit, you think. A soft chuckle leaves your lips. Oh, now this. Hearing you say this, would possibly kill your mother.
“Pardon.” A voice brings you from your thoughts. You look to your mother who is staring at you in confusion and, if you really looked close enough, mild pride. She thinks you were laughing at the things they are saying about them.
You straighten up. Say what they want to hear. Be a proper lady. Hold your head high. Speak properly. “Forgive me, mother. I could not help the small laugh that escaped my lips.” Her lips form an oh and she nods approvingly. But then you continue. You can’t help it. If Delia was speaking the truth, the blood of your father boils through your veins and the pot overflows too often. “I couldn’t help but chuckle at the shit spewing around the table as you all spoke. Those ‘creatures’ you’re talking about, they’re human. None of them asked to be born there, but they were and that doesn’t make them bad.”
Mother throws another hand over her heart as does Eartha. Robin simply chuckles. Papa grunts. Says nothing, continues to eat. “(Y/N) (L/N)! First of your name, rightful heir to the mines of Maria, Rose, and Sina, Lady of the Manor. You will not continue on this little rebellious streak of yours. You are a lady and ladies do not act out of line. They do not speak out of turn. They say what people want to hear. They speak properly.”
She reaches over, pats your head as if all is forgiven. “You mustn’t continue on this streak, understand? I am only doing what’s best for you. And your new husband will be stricter than I. He will not take the words you say so lightly.”
“Well let’s hope-“
Mother throws her hands up in exasperation as if to give up. “Herschel! Tell the girl something! She’s out of control!” It’s all rather unladylike if you had a say-so.
Herschel stood from his chair. “(Y/N), heed your mother’s advice, please.”
You bit the inside of your cheek softly, nodding obediently. “Yes, papa.”
Your mother nods her head with a hmph until your father speaks again. “It is the only way you will survive in this town of self-important shits.” It makes you laugh, terribly loud in fact. You know it is rather unladylike, but it’s allowed because he’s your father.
Mother sighs loud and heavy, pinches the bridge of her nose, and ignores it. “What are everyone’s plans for this day?”
Robin stands. “Breakfast at the (L/N) manor was a great trivial thing. I must bid you all farewell.” He stands at attention to papa. “All pleasantries and jokes aside, I do have a mission to travel to the underground today and pursue the gang of rats. I will return in time for my dear sister’s amalgamation.”
Papa nods and salutes Robin. A hard-born man indeed.
Eartha perks up, her brown eyes shining. “I am having tea with the ladies.” Her eyes move to you. “Would you like to join me again, dear sister? I always enjoy your spice of putting the ladies in their places.”
Before you can protest, your father does so for you. “That won’t be necessary, Eartha. It is her training day. She will be accompanying me.”
“But what about her ball tonight?” Mother chimes in. “I do not want to see bruises over her. Lord Tevle would not find her appealing.”
“It will be a simple recourse for the day; hand-to-hand combat, ODM training, sword training. Nothing extreme like last time.” He looks at you. “Besides, if I do nothing else in this world before retiring, I will make a strong leader out of my only child. A few bruises don’t mean a thing, right?”
You stand at attention. This here. This is the only time you don’t even have to be a lady. You don’t have to speak properly or walk on eggshells. You don’t have to be something you’re not. Your father is a hard man, as stubborn as a horse. He’s built strong and forces his daughter to be even stronger.
Another beautiful day in this place
Another beautiful day in this place
Oh, how I’d love to stay in that place, where nothing is expected of me.
“Yes, sir.” Your voice comes out deeper now, a perfect soldier for your father although you know it’s not your place to ever be one. Despite knowing this, papa continues forward. Pushing pushing pushing you to be smarter. Faster. Stronger. Better than him.
He nods in approval, beginning to walk to the door. You fall in step not far behind as silently ordered. Mother yells after you both. “No bruises today, Herschel! I mean it. She is a lady destined to marry and bear children, not a man destined to give out orders. You need to go easy on her. She may be your only child but she is a lady.”
Papa stops, turns to mother. He is a slow man after all these years. He doesn’t say much. Doesn’t move much. He is a slow man. But from what you know, he is only slow because papa moves for nobody.
He tilts his head in confusion. “What does easy mean?”
A hard man indeed.