EX Fio

"Is this dress too garish?" My sister drew up her shoulders as she spoke, grasping the
hem of her beautiful white dress. It was generously decorated in layer upon layer of delicate lace,
with small diamonds sparkling here and there. I let out a small sigh as I stared at her.
"You look lovely, my sister. And well you should, for today is certain to be the finest day of your life."

My sister nodded, satisfied, and turned this way and that to better admire her reflection in the mirror.

We were twins, both princesses in the land we called home. Though we shared a visage,
my sister was bright, sociable, smart, and popular. She was the very image of perfection.
Whereas I was shy, dull, not at all clever, I didn't have many friends... I was wholly unremarkable.
This day, my sister was setting off on a journey to be wed to a foreign prince. It would be a
grand ceremony on a scale I had never seen. Our country and the prince's had long been at war,
you see, but this wedding would unite our families and finally bring an end to the seemingly
eternal conflict. It had all been set in motion by our mother—the queen.

The day was clear, and a warm sun sat high in the sky. Before stepping into the
jewel-studded carriage, my sister turned to take a final look at the castle where she was born and
raised.
"I will birth a son and raise the next king, Mother," she said with pride.
"So wait and stay safe until then."

With these words, she entered her carriage. Moments later, the carriage set off with great
pomp. It would be several days before she crossed the border, so she settled in for a long ride.
It sparkled in the sunlight, as though lighting the path ahead.

What a perfect beauty! What a perfect wedding! What a perfect prince!

I was so proud of my sister; seemingly nothing was beyond her reach, and she had accomplished
everything she ever set out to do in life. I knew her future would be bright, with nothing but great
things waiting for her. That's how her life always was, after all. I waved and waved until the
carriage vanished from view.

......
.........
............

The girl slowly opens her eyes. Then closes them. She had been dreaming again. In her
dream, she was a princess. She is disappointed that sleep has fled; she wanted to see more.
For even though she wasn't the lead princess in this particular dream, it was still much nicer
than her usual nightmares. Defeated, she opens her eyes, gazes for a moment at the foul,
grime-covered ceiling above, and rises from her shabby bed. Today, she will study hard, help
however she can, and spend another day being a very good girl.

"Good morning, Mommy. Do you wanna hear about my dream?"
She greets her mother cheerfully, as she does every day. The older woman does not even look up;
she just continues peeling potatoes.

"Dreams are nonsense, girl, and you've no time for such foolery. Now eat your breakfast and
get to school."
On the table is a bowl of thin gruel and a heel of bread. The girl sits on a rickety chair and pulls
the food close. The bread is hard enough to shatter teeth. But it's all Commoners like them can
afford, so she's quite used to it.

"Last night's dream was special, Mommy. I was a princess!"
Her mother sets a potato down and turns to stare at her daughter. Her eyes seem to bore holes in her.

"I told you to knock off that fool talk. You're a Commoner, not a Noble—and you never will be."
The girl is well aware of this.

Even the youngest child knows of the country's strict class system. Here, the disparity
between Nobles and Commoners is great indeed. The Commoners have long been discontent
with their lot in life, and the Nobles worry increasingly about social unrest. But the girl had no
wish to argue politics—she simply wanted to make conversation with her mother. Stung, she
drops her eyes and quickly finishes her breakfast.
"I'm going now, Mommy."

The girl hurriedly gets dressed, gathers her things,
and leaves the house for school. Winter. A most rainy season. Though the rain has stopped,
puddles still dot the road. She stands at one and looks at her face reflected in the water. She
does not look like her mother. Nor does she look at all like her father. She senses she is not
much loved by either. And she believes her face to be the reason. Suddenly angry, she stamps
on the face in the puddle and rushes off to school. She is determined to study hard and win her
parents' praise.

The roses were finally blooming. From my window, I saw the bright red flowers stretching
out as far as the eye could see. The buds had been firmly shut for so long, but warm weather
had finally come yesterday to loosen winter's icy hold. But as magnificent as the flower garden
was, I had grown so very weary of looking at it. I had been staring at it since the day I arrived
in this country.... Since the day they locked me in this room. To pass the time, I started counting
the roses. When I reached the 48th rose, I spotted the prince walking alongside his young and
beautiful princess.

I knew the princess well. She was my twin, after all. A group of Nobles followed them,
chattering merrily away. The castle, a fun and lively place for most inhabitants, hosted a tea
party in the garden at this time every week. Delighted peels of laughter soon intermingled with
the clinking of porcelain. I quietly slipped out of view and listened in.

"You have been beaming with happiness every day since the wedding, Your Highness."
"People all across the land speak of the princess's beauty!"

It was true: The marriage of a prince from the west and my sister from the east was on the lips
of people in both countries. Of greatest concern was when she might bear him a child.

That was the reason I am here; the reason I was summoned to this place soon after the
wedding was complete. Because I...I am to birth the prince's child in place of my sister.

"Oh, I can hardly wait! Will it be a prince or princess?"
"No matter what, I'm certain it will be adorable."
"I've heard His Majesty the King has already prepared several midwives for the happy day."

It didn't take long for the prince and his court to realize his new bride was barren. So I was
smuggled into the country in the dead of night. No one could be allowed to know of my
existence. Of course, I would do anything for my sister. Anything.... I just thought she might
come see me at some point.

"The sun is beginning to set."
"You should not be out and about in the cold, Princess. Let us return to the castle at once."

As the crimson glow of dusk began to fill the room, the lively voices grew distant. It seemed
the party had ended. I moved from the window and began preparing myself for the prince's
arrival—for though my sister had not seen fit to visit, he arrived every night like clockwork.
And there, in that darkening room, I waited.

......
.........
............

The loud ringing of a bell pulls the girl back to reality. She had been unable to
concentrate during class; she kept thinking about last night's dream. The sun sits high in
the winter sky, its rays peeking through gaps in the clouds to brighten the classroom. It was
the continuation of her previous dream, the one where the princess rode off in a carriage.
The girl is yet young, and while she does not understand her dream completely, she knows
that Nobles sometimes have to do what their parents say and live a life not wholly their own.
In this way, she finds being a Commoner a relief. And once she is grown up, she hopes to live
a life of even greater freedom.

The school she attends is specifically for Commoners. Everyone, from the highest-ranking
teacher to the lowliest student, is still a Commoner at the end of the day. The classroom grows
lively as some of the more impatient children begin to gather up their textbooks.

"That's all for today," says the teacher.
"Oh, but before I forget, I have the results from last week's test."
The teacher looks directly at the girl and smiles.
"Your classmate here had top marks yet again. I hope you all learn from her and study hard!"
The girl happily hugs her textbook to her chest at the news. She runs the whole way home to
tell her mother.

"Mommy, Mommy! Guess what!? I got first on the test again!" Her mother is standing
in the living room with her back to her, holding a large mug in her hands. She slowly turns
around at her daughter's voice.
"If I study lots, do you think I could become a doctor or a lawyer?"

Her mother finishes off the contents of the mug—which is clearly some sort of alcohol—and
slams it down on the table. The scent of her breath fills the room like a cloud.

"Are you mad, girl?" she says loudly.
"We've not the money to let you study forever."
"Now clear your head of these fool dreams and get to the laundry!"

Dejected, the girl leaves to fetch the hamper. For a brief moment, a long-buried thought rises
up in the girl's chest: What if she's not my mother? We look nothing alike, after all. She shakes
the thought away. No. I love her. Even if we aren't related by blood... But the poor girl's desire
for love has no outlet, so it simply continues to swell painfully in her chest.

Winter had arrived; the flower garden was cold and barren. But inside a heated room,
a newborn baby made its first cry.
"Oh dear. A girl."

The midwife holding the baby made no attempt to hide her disappointment; nor did the king
and prince, who were both leaning against a nearby wall. With sweat running down my body,
I instinctively reached out to hold the new life I created. But they do not even grant me that kindness.

"A shame," said the king.
"Very well. Dispose of her at once."

He and his son left the room without another word. But the princess—my twin sister—remained.

"You there," she said to the midwife.
"You are dismissed."

The woman froze in place for a moment. Then she set the baby down, bowed, and scuttled
out of the room along with the rest of the women who attended the birth. The last time my
sister and I were alone was a year ago—when I praised her exquisite wedding dress. But I lay still
and quiet in my bed, unsure if I should view this as a heartfelt reunion or begin begging for mercy.

"This is your fault, you know? What I'm about to do? If you'd just given birth to a son,
it wouldn't have come to this."
With that, my sister produced a small knife from her pocket...

............

Cradling my newborn daughter, I ran from the castle with only the clothes on my back.
My mind was chaos.

They were going to kill my daughter. My own sister was going to kill her! Why!? Why, why, why!?

I had no answer to this question. But then again, I'd never been especially bright. I came to
this wretched country for my sister's sake. I bore a child for my sister's sake. All for her sake.
All for her sake all for her sake all for her sake...

I had nowhere to go. A traveling merchant kindly allowed me to ride on his cart, and
after a night of hard travel, I woke up in a small border town. On the harsh midwinter morning,
a mixture of snow and sleet rained down without mercy or pause. Having pushed my body to
its limits right after giving birth, I was stricken with a high fever and fuzzy thoughts. But my
sweet daughter was warm and dry in a thick blanket, and as I held her to me, my troubles
seemed to dissipate. She was asleep. She looked just like an angel.

"Hey, there's someone on the ground over here!" I heard footsteps splash in a puddle
near my ear, and the voice of a young woman echo above my head.

"Heavens, she's got a baby..." Another voice called out—a man this time.
"Aye, I fear this girl's done for."
"Poor thing. To think she'll be leaving this child behind..."

They almost seemed to be talking about someone else. Apparently I collapsed, though I did
not remember it. I could hear my daughter crying nearby. Despite how hard the sleet was
coming down, I could do nothing for her; I did not even have the strength to stand. Thankfully,
someone had found us. With great effort, I turned my head and looked at the couple.
Please...raise her as your own. Make her happy. The words I had intended to say never made
it from my mouth. The chill of the sleet pounding my body slowly faded away, the sound growing
distant...distant...distant... And finally, my conscious faded....Forever.

......
.........
............

The girl briskly walks through a bone-chilling cold. Her mother had sent her out to fetch
their bread ration. It's a rainy winter day—just like the one from her dream. She is wearing every
layer she owns, but the sudden downpour cuts through her garments like a knife. As she listens
to the never-ending torrent, she thinks back on the sight she dreamed of that morning. Now that
I think about it...It's funny how the couple that found "me" on the ground looked a lot like Mommy
and Daddy...

"Mommy! I'm home!"
The girl, her pigtails dripping, produces three loaves of bread from the inside of her coat and
grins happily. The bread is a bit damp, but dry compared to the girl. Her mother, who was
warming herself at the hearth, takes the loaves with a bit of a guilty look.

"Thank you, girl. Now hurry up and get changed! You're dripping water all over the house."
As the girl slowly peels off her clothes, she only thinks of one thing: I hope that made Mommy happy...

"How long are you planning to sleep, child!? Get up already!"The woman throws the
bedroom door open. Her daughter, who usually wakes up on her own, has slept late into
the morning today. She stomps over to her tiny bed.

"Come now, get up. I need you to fetch the bread again."
The woman throws back the blanket on the bed to reveal the girl lying there languidly, her face red.

"M-Mommy... I think I'm sick..." croaks the girl.
"I'm cold and hot all at once...and I c-can't move..."

Her mother places a hand on her forehead. She is burning up. The woman immediately recalls
how she sent her out in the sleet the previous day to fetch their food. Then she emits a small
sigh and pulls the blanket back in place.

"Well then, never mind the bread. You just rest."
"Th-thank you, Mommy..."

As the woman gets up and makes to leave, the girl calls out to her weakly.

"Well?" says the woman.
"What is it?"
"I wanna slurpy apple," replies the girl in a pitiful voice.
"Is that okay?"

The woman stares at the child in the blanket. She never asks for things, she thinks. Without a
word, the woman closes the door behind her. And to request slurpy apple—a grated fruit treat
she used to make her when she was small—is even stranger.

She walks into the living room to find her husband peeling off his coat, still damp from
his turn on the watch.

"Raining again," he says.
"Awful stuff."

The woman places a bowl of warm soup on the table. Her husband peers down at it, clearly
disappointed, but she chooses to overlook this. With a small sigh, he digs into his meager meal.
But after a few moments, he suddenly puts the spoon down.

"Hey, how's the kid?"
"Feverish. I'm letting her rest today."
"I swear, that child is next to useless."

The woman sits opposite her husband and plucks an apple off the table.

"She came home soaked after her errands yesterday—probably what made her ill."
She picks up a small knife and begins peeling the fruit.

"You sent her out in that?" says her husband.
"Hells, the other guards won't even leave the barracks when it's coming down so."

The woman stops peeling and glares at her husband.

"Oh, so now I'm a magician who knows exactly when the rain is going to start and stop?"
Her husband wisely turns his attention back to his soup. The woman returns to her peeling.

"You know, she's not a bad kid," he says finally.
"You don't have to be so cold to her."
"Honestly, sometimes I feel like she's...wasted on us."

The peeled apple skin curls into a neat pile on the table.
"You're right there," she replies.
"Why, if she had our genes, she'd grow up to be a frightful beast just like us!"

The man looks down at his bowl again; silence was always his retreat when things weren't going
his way. The woman picks up the empty soup bowl, takes it to the kitchen, and returns with a
grater. She slides the apple against it, creating a harsh rasp.

"You know I hate it when she rubs our differences in my face."
The sound of the apple on the grater hangs heavy in the air.

"It's almost her birthday," says the husband. He stares out the window ask he talks.
The rain is coming down harder, turning into sleet.

"I mean, not like we know exactly when she was born..."
"But we found her on a cold, rainy day much like this one."

The grating slows as the apple is worn down to nothing.

"She's starting to look like her mother,"says the woman after a long pause.
"Won't be long until she realizes she don't look like us at all."
"Aye, that woman was a great beauty indeed."

The woman glares at her husband again, but says nothing. Instead, she gets up and tosses the
apple core into the sink. With the bowl of grated apple in hand, she returns to the girl's room.

Her face is still red, but she is at least sleeping. Pity this poor thing ending up with
us when she could have lived a good, free life as a Noble. The woman reaches out to touch
the girl's cheek, but stops. Instead, she places the bowl on the nightstand and leaves. The
girl is beginning to realize she is not their true daughter. And yet, she does all she can to
earn their love. But her looks aren't the only thing that set her apart; there is also her purity,
her honesty, and her bravery. The beauty of her very spirit tells the couple how different she is....
Perhaps they made a mistake taking her in that day. The apple sitting beside the girl begins to
brown. It grows darker still. Uglier. Horrid. But the girl notices nothing in her deep, deep sleep.