Sarafa's Hidden Stories

Chapter 1: A Queen and Warm Sand (No.01)

It is morning, when the briny breeze dancing through the
palace from the far-off ocean is yet cold.

As I rise from my bed and stare absently out the window,
an urgent message arrives. My daughter's lady-in-waiting
has come to deliver the news personally, and her voice
quivers as she speaks.

"The princess has left for the sea, Your Majesty"

"Thank you for telling me. I am...relieved."

I am the ruling queen of this country, and the princess of
whom she speaks is my daughter. I had a feeling it would
turn out this way; a suspicion she would elope with the
sailor boy and abandon her nation and people.

In truth, I was hoping for it.

Though I married her to a king of a faraway land, she
eventually made her way back. Clearly I have no problem
with her leaving; in fact, I am rather satisfied with this
outcome. My plan was always to have her stumble upon a
faint hope she could leave through a seeming coincidence,
then make the decision to do so on her own. And now,
that plan has borne the most perfect of fruits.

I turn back to the lady-in-waiting, watching her quietly
shuffle away, before returning my attention to the open
window. Beyond, I see the prosperity of a land I cultivated
and developed. A powerful land. A gathering place of
tenacious soldiers.

How difficult it has been to protect this country!

I met him—the man who would one day be my prince consort—
when I was the age my daughter is now. This land was
particularly impoverished, even among all the little
countries that dotted the area. Our military might was
non-existent, and we were constantly being invaded by our
neighbors. And yet, our people were kind, their hearts
open-minded. They valued bonds of friendship and love,
and were especially warm to those who had nothing.

And that man—the poorest son of a poorest people—
loved this land with all his heart.

He showed love to parentless children. Served the elderly
who would otherwise be alone. Everyone relied on him—
and more importantly, they liked him.

I was enthralled by him when I visited the city on royal
family business. Though we spoke only for a moment,
his deep, robust voice remained with me even when I
returned to the palace. And when I crawled into bed and
closed my eyes, all I could see was his face.

The long and short of it is this:
I fell in love for the very first time.

Naturally, those around me opposed it; our standings in
society were too different for such a union to ever work.
So they forbade me from seeing him, even going so far
as to lock me away in my room.

But the more they attempted to cool the fires of my heart,
the brighter they burned.

I escaped my room almost every night for our trysts.
I ran barefoot down darkened streets—and if I ever stumbled
and skinned a knee, I just leapt up and ran all the faster.

I wanted our love to bloom no matter the cost, and was
rewarded when he felt the same. Each night he embraced me,
ignoring the scrapes and bruises and loving me in a way
no one else could.

We were unstoppable.

Ours was a passionate affair that swept the entire country
into its wake. There is no tale to tell, no words to use,
that could express the sort of daring tale we created.
And after countless, tireless efforts, we were finally
bound together as one, my relatives acknowledging
us as queen and prince consort.

Husband and wife.

I was so happy.
We were both fulfilled, and that was enough.

Or so it should have been.

I adored him deeply. Powerfully. With all of my life.

Yet one day, my husband—my beloved husband—changed.

Eyes which had only been for me strayed.

Strayed to a new life I created.

It has been this way since the day I gave birth.

Since the day my husband met our daughter.

My daughter took my husband from me.

She took everything.

Chapter 2: A Queen and Fiery Eyes (No.02)

The princess of this country—my daughter—fled our borders
with a strange boy and set sail across the sea.

I never have to see her face again, which is a relief.
As the queen, I am satisfied with this outcome.

I lean back in my chair, my eyes falling shut as I relax,
and think of my husband as I once did.

When I used to wake in the morning, he would brush my hair
from my face and whisper how he found it beautiful. His voice
was low and sweet, and I loved it like nothing else.

He would gaze at me cheerfully, gently, a smile ever
on his lips. How I adored the warmth in his eyes!

My husband hung on every little thing I did.
His deep affections were for me and me alone.

I felt a sense of superiority at this, one that made my
heart beat prouder than any trappings of royalty. I felt
satisfied in a the way only a wife can feel—satisfied
that I had my beloved's affections all to myself.

And I knew he felt the same.

From the moment he arrived at court, he proved himself a
pure, righteous, and skilled prince consort—one talented
enough to still even the most bitterly complaining tongue.
No one would ever get between us...or so I thought.

But then, that life was torn asunder for a reason
I did not anticipate:

I gave birth.

When our daughter let fly with her first wailings, the people
of my country gave us their blessings. She was healthy and
strong, and more importantly, the spitting image of her parents.
But from that moment, my husband's voice, his gaze—all the
things that had once been for me alone—were now things
reserved only for his daughter.

He was utterly captivated by his new child.

He no longer looked at my hair. My face.

His affections were withdrawn from me;
only our daughter proved worthy of his love.

No one understood just how empty those days were for me—
and the most oblivious to my pain was my husband.

The man who thought he understood every nook and cranny
of my heart.

Perhaps he would grow bored of children if I were to bear
another, I thought. But in the end, we never had a chance.

As our daughter grew into a most bright and cheerful girl,
my husband was beset with a terrible illness. His days were
spent bedridden, coughing in endless, wracking barks.
The pain made his mind hazy, and though he never spoke
of it aloud, I knew he was suffering terribly.

I devoted myself to caring for him, even though it would be
a lie to say I did so from a place of complete selflessness.
I helped him drink. I cleaned his body, I treated him with
more love and care than I did even in our days of yore,
and this only made my love for him grow deeper.

But my husband never opened his heart to me again.
Instead, as he lays in bed, he would ask me:

"What did she learn today?"

"What did she eat today?"

"I hope she was happy today."

Our daughter's day. Her growth. Her health.
That was all he cared for.

Though he occasionally thanked me, I knew full well
that his words carried no weight.

His feelings for our daughter crushed me. And as my love
for him grew, my hatred for my daughter deepened. I could
feel myself warping, but could not stop it any more than
a woman can hold back the tide.

And then, after a thousand risings and settings of the sun,
his illness finally claimed him. My care had been for naught.

And do you know the last thing he said to me?

"Take care of our people...and our daughter."

Not once did he mention me. Not once did he give
even the most passing of thoughts to our memories together.

My faint sliver of hope shattered in that moment, and it
formed splinters which pain me to this very day.

In hindsight, perhaps he knew of his encroaching illness.
If so, I can perhaps understand why he poured so much
love into our daughter.

But understanding is not acceptance, and it cannot erase
the utter hate I hold for the girl in my heart.

And yet, I carried on, resolving to protect this land
and its people just as my husband asked.

...Even if it meant using our daughter to do so.

Chapter 3: A Queen and a Cold Smile (No.03)

My beloved husband thought only of this nation and our
daughter until his dying breath.

"Take care of our people...and our daughter."
These were his last words to me. His final wish.
I took that wish to heart, and vowed to look after this nation
my husband loved as its queen. To see it grow strong.

Governing was never my strong suit, so I took the time
to learn all about it from the very beginning. I stimulated the
economy, increased the number of soldiers at our command,
and enhanced our power as a nation. So great was our
progress that we could even hold our own in the face of
military interference from other countries.

For the sake of this nation, I hardened my heart and aimed
for the stars. I had no qualms using my own daughter if it
meant our nation would be better off for it. I devised your
classic political marriage, and sought to marry my daughter
off to the king of a nation that boasted tremendous military
strength so that we might enjoy cordial diplomatic relations,
and luckily, my daughter did not doubt my intentions in the
slightest. I, meanwhile, was aware of the possibility that she
might anger her new husband and end up dead for it...and
I was perfectly fine with that outcome.

If anything, I hoped that she would go off and die someplace
I would not need bear witness to it, for no matter how much
I despised my daughter, I could never take her life myself.
...How could I? She just looks so much like my dear husband
and I. She has his bright eyes and cheerful smile, as well as
hair just like mine... Hair my husband would fawn over each
and every morning, telling me how beautiful it was.

The hatred I feel toward my daughter is real. As is the envy,
and the disgust. I could dress those feelings up in this fancy
word and that, but the truth of the matter would never change.
And yet...however difficult this may be to believe, I do also
love her. She is a memento of my husband, and her blood
is my blood.

I could never begrudge anyone who says my ways are selfish.
These contradictory feelings that dwell in my heart are at odds
with one another, yet coexist all the same. That is why I could
not bring myself to kill my own daughter. That is why I wished
for my daughter to die somewhere far beyond my reach.

My state of mind is complicated. Bizarre. Grotesque, even.
But this was the only way I could think of that would allow me
to let that hatred out without completely discarding the love
I hold in my heart. This was the solution I came up with so
that I could live my life without seeing her smiling face...or
her dying one.

But then she came back. Deciding her married life was
without hope and remembering her love for this country—
her love for me—she came back and looked upon me
as she always does, with that smile and those eyes that
look so much like my husband's.

My daughter has surely never once guessed at the hatred
I feel for her. She must have always thought that I held
nothing but love for my husband and her alike. She most
likely always believed that I possessed the same motherly
affection for her that all mothers must feel for their children.
She has that kind of purity to her, which I felt again when
she looked my way and told me how she had been longing
to see me again.

She depends on me. Clings to me...and I simply couldn't
stand it. Perhaps I wouldn't have suffered so if my hatred
for her were the only problem... It's that smile. It's so
adorable in the same way my husband's was that I can't
help but understand why it is she was able to steal my
husband's love away from me.

Will this smile hound me for all my mortal days?
Is this some punishment the gods have set aside for
me? One that I must endure no matter how I might try
to focus on making our nation as great as it can be?

What a cruel joke. If only I could do something to rid her
of that smile—something to kill that resemblance to my
husband for good—maybe my days would be easier.

And so I tell her that no matter how much she may have
longed to see me, I had not even the slightest hint of a
desire to see her in return.

Her expression grows cold—hopefully forever.
Here's hoping I never have to see that smile ever again...

Chapter 4: A Queen and Freezing Sand (No.04)

Many suns and moons have come and gone since the day
my daughter returned from the place I had married her off to
for political gain.

Since hurting her with my words that day, not once has a smile
crossed her face—just as I had hoped. With her face now a
permanent frown, I no longer perceive in her a resemblance to
my husband, and that has done my heart a world of good.

However, simply knowing that she lives here in the same
palace—that she still draws breath—causes my pain to return
all the stronger, and it does not amuse me that is she is now
known the nation over as a princess who does not smile.

And so I set my next plan into motion. If I am to free the palace
from my daughter's presence, someone must take her away...
Which is why I sent missives far and wide, promising that
whoever makes my daughter smile can have her as their bride.

Our nation has become a splendid one, and a blood relation
to its royalty is essentially a guarantee that one will be, for all
intents and purposes, set for life. Hoping to secure an easy
future for themselves, men from the world over make the
journey to stand before my daughter.

I don't care who it is. And if they're someone who can make
my daughter smile, I doubt she'd have any complaints either.
If there happens to be someone among them who is of a
royal upbringing, well, that would be of some benefit to the
nation as well, which would be a plus. What's more, the
influx of people coming to see my daughter will surely
stimulate our local economy.

...However, my daughter would smile for no one.
It would seem her despair is profound indeed.

It is not just her smile that left my daughter. Joy, anger,
sadness... Every human emotion disappeared alongside it.
As I sit behind my daughter and gaze upon the worthless
louts that have come to woo her, I begin to feel my own
emotions fluctuate. Is this plan of mine doomed to fail?

As my mood begins to grow dark, I see in my daughter's
eyes a glimpse of her former self, though just for a moment.

It happens as she listens to a story a man—well, a boy,
really—tells her. He claims to be a sailor, and my daughter
is clearly taken with the tales he spins.

Her heart is thawing. Perhaps it went unnoticed by the masses.
I am unsure if my daughter even realizes it herself, but I know
those eyes all too well. They are just like my husband's.
Those are the eyes that lovingly gazed upon me.
The eyes he only ever had for me.

Some time passes, and I receive word from my daughter's
lady-in-waiting that my she has eloped and taken to the sea.
I did the same thing once, having absconded from my room
after having my heart stolen by a poor commoner.

If my daughter had wanted to marry the boy I surely would
not have refused, but if she would rather sever our ties by
eloping instead, that is fine by me. Thinking about how I've
finally been freed from her blasted smile, I laugh to myself
as I sit in one of the palace's inner chambers.

There is no one here to curse me. Now I can simply live as
I please. Thinking back on all the hardships I've experienced,
I look out over my nation from a nearby window.

What I see before me is a city that has grown massive
beyond comprehension. It burns with the passion of youth.
Merchants rip off the commonfolk with their heads held high.
Members of the military spend their days thinking up plans
to pillage other nations. There is no refuge for the weak here—
it is a nation made great by concept of the survival of the fittest.
It is a strong country. A country of plenty.

Never again will I see my husband again, nor will I ever see
our daughter who looks so much like him. What's more,
it seems like I will never again see even the slightest trace
of the nation he loved so dear.

This country has become an ideal nation. The kind of place
other nations aspire to. I did my duty well. And yet...

The things that I loved? The things that my husband loved?
They're gone. They're all gone. Search as you may, you will
never find them, for they no longer exist on this earth.

Chapter 5: Today's Fortune (No.05)

Carrier: How dare they look down on people like this!
How dare they toy with people's hearts!
This is ■■■■■■■■!

Carrier proclaims in a loud voice.

This statement troubles Dark Mama.

Mama: Well gosh, even if that's true,
I feel like you're in no position to talk.

Carrier: And what is that supposed to mean?
What's wrong with calling out the ■■■■ for what it is?
I will admit those fortunetelling powers seemed to be
the genuine article, but using them to do evil is beyond
outrageous! Then again, I suppose those who choose
to believe are in the wrong too, hmm?
There will always be fools who cling to their fortunes,
so perhaps a bunch of shady fortune tellers comes
with the territory!

Carrier goes on. Dark Mama is astonished.

Mama: He and I might not get along so well...

Babe: His horoscope for today was pretty crummy.

Mama: I quite enjoy fortunes myself, but perhaps
he's taking it all a little too seriously?

Chapter 6: Maid's Diary: Fateful Job (No.06)

XX/XX
Sunny

The queen summoned me today. She says it's now my job
to serve the princess because we're both the same age.
It's such an honor!

The princess has super fluffy hair and big, round eyes.
She's very pretty.

The princess was hidden behind the queen, but she said,
"Let's read a book together." So I read her a book.
She swayed happily as I did so. It was very cute.

Thinking about being here every day to help her feels
like a dream. My heart leaps in my chest.

Chapter 7: Maid's Diary: Fateful Decision (No.07)

XX/XX
Cloudy

The princess has snuck out of the palace yet again.
I cannot help but worry, as the outside world is so
terribly dangerous. Recently, no matter how much
I advise caution the princess refuses to listen,
and instead simply dismisses me with a sly smile.

While it pained my heart to do so, I felt it necessary
to inform the queen of her behavior. However, the queen
told me to simply leave her be. Not only does the princess
have no father, it seems like her mother the queen has
no particular interest in providing her with the attention
she requires either.

Alas! How tragic it all is for our poor, precious princess.
I must protect her. I am the only one who can.

Chapter 8: Maid's Diary: Fateful Parting (No.08)

XX/XX
Rain

The princess was suddenly married off to a king of a faraway
land. Forward of me though it was, I pleaded with the queen
to remain in the princess's service, but she disapproved.

But why? I have been the closest to the princess thus far
and have cared for her like no other.

Today, the queen ordered me to clean up the princess's room.
Indeed, she may come home one day. It must be spotless for
her return.

Her bed looks so inviting. I don't suppose she would mind
if I lay on it just a little, would she?

Chapter 9: Maid's Diary: Fateful Reunion (No.09)

XX/XX
Sunny

What a development! The other day, the princess returned from
the country she was sent to so that she might marry its king!
She seems a woman changed, however, for she simply does
not smile like she used to. So grave is her condition that the
queen has issued a proclamation stating that any who can
make her smile shall have her hand in marriage.

It pains me to think that I might be separated from the princess
yet again. I think our unsmiling princess is wonderful in her own
way—she carries herself with such dignity now—but I would
also love to see that innocent smile return to her face.

...If it did, however, that would mean she'd have to leave again.
If the princess were to smile again despite the appearance of
a partner who made her do so, would the talk of her being
married off go away? In that case, maybe I...

Chapter 10: Maid's Diary: Fateful Wish (No.10)

The princess asked that I switch places with her.
She says she intends to test the feelings the boy claims
to have for her. Ah, but if only there was a world where her
wishes were the sort that I could refuse. The boy, fool that
he is, left the palace thinking I was the princess.
There is no need for me to interfere. The princess will
surely come to her senses of her own accord.

...Or so I thought, but then the princess took to the sea with
the boy on a small boat, and I was unable to stop her.
The princess had a look of both joy and despair to her
person, and I was left unable to do anything at all.

That is not my princess. My sweet princess, the princess
I cherish and adore, is... Yes, that's right... That's her smile.
It is the smile I see in the mirror before me. That's her.
That's the delightful princess I know and love.

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