one wish away

by gealbhan

Summary:

Pearl tugged at Maya’s shirt. “Mystic Maya,” she whispered, “I think we invited a Disney princess into our apartment.”

“Yeah,” Maya whispered back, still dumbstruck.

Based on Enchanted. Princess Franziska von Karma is about to marry a prince she’s never met for the sake of peace between their kingdoms. On her wedding day, she’s transported to a world where there are no happy endings: Los Angeles, California. Maya Fey is a paralegal at Fey & Wright Law Offices and sometimes waitress in the same city, just trying to survive the year and take care of her cousin Pearl (not necessarily in that order). After they bump into each other—or rather, fall into each other—outside Maya and Pearl’s apartment, Maya takes pity on the deposed princess and works to get her home, wherever “home” turns out to be… and finds them growing closer than expected.

Chapter 1: Turnabout Meetings

Notes:

back at it again with the niche aus, i know, but boy did the visual of disney princess franziska von karma not want to leave me alone. this fic went through several iterations (though none passed the outlining phase) before i settled on this one, which was my personal favorite concept, and it spiraled a lot (as things tend to do with me) but i've really been having fun writing it, so i hope you'll have just as much fun reading!

the entire fic is written & almost completely edited, so we'll be having regular updates on tuesdays + fridays if all goes according to plan. title is from "ever ever after" by carrie underwood (and from enchanted).

anyway, enjoy!

Maya Fey was having a great day.

How many other people could say their jobs involved hit ten-plus-seasons—not counting the many spin-offs of varying quality and length—long show Steel Samurai? (People who worked on it not included.) Before this week, not Maya, despite her age-disproportionate love of it.

The most recent murder case handled by Wright of Fey & Wright had changed things. She would have preferred the Steel Samurai himself (okay, the actor) not be the one being charged with murder, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Nick was sure he was innocent anyway. Maya hadn’t been sure at first, but WP was a pretty good guy.

The past couple of days, they’d been getting exclusive looks at the set-slash-murder scene (okay, so that wasn’t as cool as Maya had expected). Maya had spent most of that time trading limited-edition cards while Nick ran all over creation trying to piece things together. Since Mia (the Fey of Fey & Wright and Maya’s older sister) was on another case, this meant he was doing the leg work of the case mostly by himself, which earned Maya a chewing-out on the way back to the office today.

She’d managed to squeeze her way out of things by pointing to the nearest clock and saying, “Sorry, Nick, it’s parent pick-up time!”

This was a good tactic because it meant that it was also time for Nick to pick Trucy up, which distracted him from anything work-related entirely.

So now Maya was sitting in the back of an Uber driver’s beat-up Chevy with Pearl. Mia had offered to give her a ride home. Maya had refused. When Mia couldn’t sway her, she insisted that Maya at least text her when she got home since the killer in Apollo’s last case a couple of weeks ago had been a Lyft driver. Maya, smiling her best smile—the one that made older men tip extra but also made them think she liked them, which, gross, she was just doing her job because capitalism and the service industry required it of her—had agreed and already had her phone at the ready.

“How was school, Pearly?” she asked as she looked away from it, the first thing she’d said in ten minutes.

“It was fine, Mystic Maya.” Pearl tugged at her backpack straps. It couldn’t have been comfortable to still be wearing it, but she had shrugged when Maya suggested she just put it between them like Maya’s own bag. “My English teacher called on me to read a section of the book we’re reading, but Trucy did that misdirection thing and read instead of me.”

“That’s good! Is that good?” Maya sagged with relief when Pearl nodded. Even at her age, she struggled with reading—especially aloud—but since she’d been homeschooled until this year, she couldn’t be identified as dyslexic and accommodated for until the next school year. At least Trucy was an advanced enough reader to be a grade ahead. “Anything else happen?”

Pearl thought for a second. “No. How was your day, Mystic Maya?”

Maya still hadn’t figured out how to get Pearl to be less formal with her (or to stop calling her Mystic—it wasn’t even accurate, since she hadn’t been in training for years. At this point, she would have even taken a ma’am). As far as she could tell, Pearl still wasn’t completely comfortable around her, but she’d behaved the same way with Aunt Morgan, so it might have been a personality trait.

Or a defense mechanism, given Aunt Morgan’s parenting methods. Maya winced at the thought. Since she’d only been living with and technically raising Pearl for a few months—Mia had taken her in at first, right after Aunt Morgan had been arrested, but then she and Lana had moved in together and, after a couple more months, Pearl had come to Maya—she hadn’t managed to work out all the details about Pearl or Aunt Morgan, who’d been estranged and living in Kurain as far back as anyone could remember. Maya and Mia had also lived there for a chunk of their childhoods, but more so Mia than Maya. Even then, Mia’d moved away the day she turned eighteen and Maya had followed five-odd years later.

Shaking off the memories, Maya smiled. “Long, but Steel Samurai was a factor, so pretty good. I’m glad Trucy was there to help you out today.”

“Yes, me too,” said Pearl with a bashful grin.

Maya found nothing else to talk about besides the weather, which was a low blow and also always the same this time of year (hot. So goddamn hot), so she turned to the driver to ask if they’d turn on some music.

The answer to that was a solid no, so she settled for playing 2048 on her phone while Pearl sat stoically with her hands resting on her backpack straps. As they came to a stop outside their apartment, she straightened with a frown.

“Mystic Maya?”

“Yeah?” said Maya, halfway through a text along the lines of hey sis! we’re not dead 8-) to Mia.

“There’s a princess up on the billboard advertisement for the place Trucy performs at sometimes.”

“The Wonder Bar?” Maya mimicked Pearl’s frown and leaned toward her window, following her gaze to the billboard across the street. An indistinct shape stood before an illustration featuring a castle and greasy tagline. “Nah, Pearly, I’m pretty sure that’s just part of the ad—” No, wait, the shape was moving. And Maya knew they didn’t have the budget for an electronic ad. “Holy shit, there’s a princess on the Wonder Bar billboard.”

She had half a mind to apologize to Pearl for the language, but she didn’t get the chance. Pearl was already out of the car, door slamming shut as she darted across the street. Text abandoned and phone stuffed back in her pocket, Maya yelped, “Pearly, wait!” and shoved a wad of cash toward the driver’s back before running after.

It was late and they lived on a remote side street (or at least comparatively remote, given the presence of the billboard—Maya wasn’t sure who it was marketing to), but one never knew in LA, so she glanced both ways and prayed no cars beside the one they’d just hopped out of would drive past. Pearl was standing only a few feet away, close enough to the sidewalk that it wouldn’t be a problem anyway. Maya trotted up beside her and stared up at the princess on the billboard.

She had seen a lot of strange things in her time. She’d lived a strange life up to this point, after all: The second daughter of a once-notorious and now presumed dead spirit medium, she’d had her own stint as a medium-in-training before deciding to become a paralegal under her sister and her sister’s new hire. Given the strange life of the man to become her boss and best friend, every day at Fey & Wright only exposed her to stranger and stranger sights.

But of all the strange things Maya had seen in her time, this had to take the cake.

Now that she was looking up close, she could make out more of the figure on the Wonder Bar billboard. Despite the lack of wind, her pale hair was fluttering behind her. So were a necklace with a teal pendant and the skirt and ribbons on the dress she wore, which was the gaudiest and most extravagant thing Maya had ever seen. It was definitely a wedding dress, one that looked right off of Broadway. It was a dazzling shade of white that glowed in the fading light of the setting sun, it oozed glitter everywhere, and it had poofy sleeves, an even poofier skirt that fell to the ground (or would have had it been close to the ground), and more frills than obeyed the laws of physics. The whip secured on the hip was also unexpected, but that Maya had seen stranger things than.

And the woman wearing it was pounding on the doors to the castle printed on the sign, screaming in a language Maya didn’t recognize, let alone understand. Her voice was hoarse like she had been yelling for hours. The slamming of her fists grew more desperate by the second.

Pearl tugged on Maya’s sleeve. “Mystic Maya, we have to help her!”

Maya floundered under her pleading look and the ever-higher voice above them, about to object that they didn’t even know the woman or what was going on and she was probably drunk or high in the first place, but what came out was a sad noise like a squeaky toy. She sighed.

“All right, um—” She coughed, channeled her best ‘pissed-off Mia’ voice with an edge of real concern to it, and shouted, “Miss, do you need any help?”

The princess spun on her heel, mouth half-open—

And she stumbled backward, foot (wherever it was beneath that dress) catching on the platform behind her. Maya’s eyes widened as the overdressed, glittering princess plummeted toward the ground.

“Catch her, Mystic Maya!” Pearl cried.

As if woken up by the sound, Maya snapped into motion, running faster than she thought her legs would ever move toward the free-falling woman. The princess caught herself on the ledge and tried to hoist herself back up with shaking arms. Maya screeched to a halt beneath her.

“Just let go!” called Maya, arms spread wide. Maybe too wide. “I’ll catch you!”

A beat, and then, shoulders tight, the woman obeyed (or maybe couldn’t hold on any longer—Maya, for one, didn’t have anything like the upper body strength it took to hold on as long as she already had). Her fingers peeled away from the edge. With another small sound lost to the wind, she came hurtling straight toward Maya.

Maya had a half-second to regret her decision before a weight was toppling onto her, sending her to the hard ground with a yelp. Somehow, she hadn’t expected the dress to be that heavy, let alone the lean woman inside.

As Maya grunted and tried to roll out, Pearl came running over with a squeak of, “Are you okay?!”

“Unhand me this instant!” cried the woman, her eyes flaring and face going a bright shade of pink as she wrenched herself from Maya’s already loose grip. Her voice had a strong accent, harsh and clipped—German, maybe? “You—you—” Her mouth moved soundlessly for a moment before she grabbed the whip off her hip and snapped it between her hands. “I am Princess Franziska von Karma, the Prodigy, and I am perfect and would have had landed on my feet! I did not need the assistance of a fool like you!”

“A thank you would have been nice,” Maya muttered, shakily getting to her feet, and then she blinked. “Oh my God, you’re really a princess?”

Franziska scoffed and reached up to adjust her tiara, which was just as sparkly as the rest of her ensemble. “Of course. You don’t recognize me?” She didn’t wait for an answer (which would have been of course not, I think I’d remember you) before scoffing again. “I am the Princess of Borginia, daughter of His Majesty King Manfred von Karma. You may address me as—”

“You’re the princess of where now?” Admittedly, Maya wasn’t too up on her world geography, but the name didn’t ring any bells, and she thought even she’d know about a princess visiting the States.

Franziska gave her a look like she was a worm crushed beneath someone’s heel. Wringing her whip, she sounded out, “The King-dom of Bor-gin-ia.” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know of it?”

“Uh…” Quick, phone a friend! “Pearly, you’ve taken geography classes in the last decade—you have any clue?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Pearl said in a distant voice, staring up at Franziska. “You really are a princess, then, Lady von Karma?”

“Did I not say as much?”

Pearl sighed dreamily and held both cheeks. “Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve never met a real-life princess before! Would you mind signing an autograph for me, Your Highness?”

You’d never even heard of her, Maya wanted to point out, but she held her tongue for once.

Franziska blinked, looking—beneath it all—a bit touched. She lowered her whip. “What would you like me to sign, young lady?”

“Oh. I-I’m not sure.” Pearl thought for a second before tugging off her backpack and digging through it. “Maybe one of my notebooks from school? I have a lot of loose pencils and pens in here, so I have that too—”

“And to whom should I make this autograph out to?”

“Pearl Fey!” Preening, Pearl looked up. “Oh, um, my cousins call me Pearly and Mr. Nick and Miss Athena and sometimes Trucy call me Pearls. This is Mystic Maya, one of my cousins.”

“Hi,” said Maya belatedly.

Franziska didn’t acknowledge her with more than a glance before she continued to watch Pearl go through her stuff. After a moment, a frowning Pearl zipped her backpack up and swung it back on.

“There’s nothing in there that would work, I don’t think,” she said, wilting forward like Charley when Maya forgot to water him (which wasn’t her fault, as there were four other capable people in the office who could also contribute to Charley’s care). “Never mind, then. Where are you staying tonight, Your Highness?”

“Ah—” Franziska’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and she crossed her arms. “I don’t believe I have anywhere to go. This was an… unplanned trip.”

Sometimes, Maya’s mouth moved ahead of her brain. That was a thing no one about her could deny. Her foot-in-mouth tendencies were sometimes appreciated (mostly not, in the context of her two jobs—cite the multiple times she’d gotten held in contempt of court) but always at least somewhat embarrassing when the impulsiveness wore off seconds to days later.

Now, it leaned toward the not appreciated end of things. Before she could do anything about it, she heard herself saying, “Why don’t you come up to our place for a few minutes to cool down and figure things out? Our apartment’s right across the street.”

*

As she brought a literal actual princess up to her and Pearl’s apartment, Maya thought somewhere that this was the moment where she was supposed to look into the camera and say, “Yep. That’s me. You might be wondering how I got into this situation.”

She didn’t, though, because to her incredible dismay, she wasn’t actually the star of a low-budget teen drama from the early 2000s. And she thought it might set off Franziska further. Franziska had already refused to get into the elevator, calling it something along the lines of a foolish beast with too many foolish buttons, so Maya and Pearl had to instead take the stairs—they only lived on the third floor, so it wasn’t as daunting a task as it seemed, but Maya still wanted an inhaler half of the way up. Franziska didn’t even seem to recognize the word apartment. None of this was making Maya feel good about her decisions.

But after years of working as a paralegal and longer watching Mia and Nick work, she’d learned how to read people pretty well, in her opinion. And nothing about Franziska screamed liar. Pompous, yeah, and a perfectionist to cover an inferiority complex, maybe. But she didn’t seem to be lying, at least not about being a princess from a country Maya had never heard of. Maya could call up Nick or even Mia to get a definite answer about whether she was hiding anything, but she didn’t want to bother them at this time of night for something so—for lack of any better descriptors—dubious.

Maya led the way out of the stairwell, only panting a little, and headed down the hall. Pearl had been silent the walk up, probably sneaking awed and nervous glances at Franziska out of the corners of her eyes; Franziska was even quieter. She had one hand on her whip all the way to the door and jumped at the slightest noise.

Maya dug through her pockets, which she was pretty sure were as extradimensional as Trucy’s magic panties, for her keys. “You really don’t have anywhere to stay around here?” she said, to distract both herself and Franziska if nothing else.

“I don’t know where here is, just that it is a useless place where only unhelpful fools foolishly reside, so no.”

“Yeah, welcome to Los Angeles.”

“Thank you,” said Franziska, frowning. That appeared to be her default expression, though it lacked the oomph of the scowl she’d had for most of the past few minutes. “Then I don’t know where I am beyond Los Angeles—” Franziska von Karma wasn’t the type to use air quotes, but they were there in spirit, as far as Maya was concerned “—but I would like to find a place to rest my head for the night.”

Maya’s fingers brushed her keyring at the bottom of her pocket beneath a concerning amount of lint, a less concerning amount of loose change, and a half-melted Kit-Kat. She silently cheered as she withdrew her keys. “What kind of place?”

“Perhaps…” Franziska tapped her foot, or at least Maya assumed she did because of the metallic clanking that echoed through the hall. “A nearby meadow, a hollow tree, a house of dwarves—”

Maya, struggling not to laugh, jammed her key into the lock. And missed, at first, and tried again. “A hollow tree, Your Majesty?”

Franziska’s eyebrow twitched. “Highness, not Majesty. My father, being the reigning king, is ‘Your Majesty.’ If you want to be formal, then you may address me as ‘Your Royal Highness,’” she rattled off like it was rehearsed. Given her general personality, it may have been.

“That’s, um, good to know?” said Maya, sneaking a glance at Pearl to confirm. Pearl, looking somewhat conflicted, nodded. “So your dad is the king, yeah? Does that mean you’ll be the queen someday? Oh, or do you have older siblings?”

“Yes and yes.” At Maya’s even more confused look, Franziska folded her arms. “I have a little brother, but Papa only ever took him under his wing, so we are not related under the law. Even if we were, I doubt that Papa would allow him to become the king. The von Karma blood is what makes one eligible for the throne, after all.”

“Huh. So what happens if you don’t have kids?”

Click, went Maya’s key in the lock, which she could hear loud and clear thanks to the sudden silence. Franziska’s expression was so stormy that Pearl shrunk behind Maya, who immediately regretted this conversation and flung open her door as a distraction. Unaffected, Franziska continued glaring at the floorboards.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said after a stilted moment, words clipped and accent even stronger. She tilted her chin up and fixed Maya with a hard stare. Oh boy, if looks could kill… “It is my duty to have children, and so naturally I will once I am finally wed.” The no matter what my personal feelings are went unsaid but hung in Franziska’s eyes, and Maya felt a sting of sympathy.

Pearl had focused on another part of Franziska’s words. “Are you engaged, Your Royal Highness?”

“Betrothed,” Franziska corrected. “I have never met my husband-to-be. It was the morning of our wedding day when I was transported here.” Her lip curled back in a snarl. “Papa was supposed to walk me down the aisle, but he didn’t show in time, and so I fell for an old fool’s trickery and ended up in your foolish kingdom where nobody wants to listen to my tale or help me or even look at me. The only one who so much as offered was a scruffy fool whom I would be ashamed to be seen with.”

Pearl sighed. “That’s so romantic,” she said, sinking her head into her palms with a dreamy expression. “I mean, you’ve never met, but you’re so in love with him that you’re getting married anyway.” Franziska’s glare turned on her, and she startled. “I-Isn’t that right?”

Maya almost dove in front of her cousin to protect her from the laser intensity of that glare, but Franziska huffed out what might have been a laugh. Still glaring, she relaxed and looked to the side. “Not quite,” she said, tone gentler than before. “Marriage for love is a thing of foolish fairy tales and childish dreams. Our arrangement is purely one of political convenience, and it will not move past that.”

“Oh.” Pearl slumped. After a moment wherein Maya could see the gears turning above her head, she straightened, light returning to her eyes. “B-But!” she said despite Franziska’s tone leaving little room for argument. “It could, couldn’t it?! You’ve never met him, so you don’t know how you feel about him, really!”

“I assure you, Pearl Fey,” said Franziska, “I would never have feelings of that nature for a prince, let alone fall in love with one.”

Oh, Maya thought, considering the emphasis on the word prince. From the widening of Pearl’s eyes, she had noticed it, too—while her upbringing hadn’t been the most open-minded, as Maya could say from experience, Pearl had spent a few months with Mia and then Mia and Lana, and all of Fey & Wright Law Offices was openly gay or bi. From what Franziska had said, though, Maya didn’t know if that was a conversation anyone was ready to have. Especially not out here.

She threw an arm in front of Pearl and shot her a panicked please-go-along-with-this look. “Aha, Pearly, what’s with all the questions? Right out here, too—the neighbors are gonna talk.” Not that they didn’t already. “C’mon, let Her Royal Highness breathe for a second.”

Pearl nodded sheepishly. “Sorry, Your Highness,” she said, bowing.

Maya cleared her throat and said before Franziska could so much as blink, “Well, Your Highness, want to come in? Oh—in case this works like vampires, I invite you in. Please don’t take advantage of my hospitality to suck my blood and turn me into an angry whip-wielding princess covered in frills and glitter like yourself.” That did sound pretty bitching, now that Maya said it out loud, but still.

Franziska gave them both an odd look. “I’m already here, am I not?”

“Yeah, you sure are,” Maya muttered before stepping aside and gesturing Franziska into her apartment. The half-hearted thought to clean passed her mind, as it did every now and then, but as always, it disappeared as soon as it had appeared.

It returned when Franziska stepped in, hoisting her skirt to cross the threshold, and took a single look around. She didn’t say anything, but Maya could tell from the way she wrinkled her nose and kept holding her skirt up as she made her way further in that she was judging them (mostly Maya, who was a grown adult and owned and was thus responsible for the care and upkeep of this apartment). Oh well. If Maya hadn’t already thoroughly disappointed Franziska, she was doing something wrong.

Pearl, on the other hand, remembered their conversation outside and ran to her bedroom with a call of, “I’ll find something for you to autograph, Your Highness!”

Franziska watched her go. “She is… very chipper.”

“Yeah, that’s little Pearly.” Despite herself, Maya grinned. “She’s actually usually really shy around strangers. I guess you falling off of a billboard broke the ice. And also most of the bones in both of our bodies.” She bent her back for effect, grin widening at the loud crack it produced and how far Franziska stepped back. “Is that a habit of yours, by the way? Falling off of things?”

“Is failing to catch people when they fall one of yours?” Franziska retorted with a scathing look.

Maya shrugged. “I dunno, haven’t had enough practice catching people to tell.”

Before Franziska could reply, Pearl returned, carrying a piece of stock paper and a pen with a little cat head at the end. She held them both out to Franziska, who accepted them with a blink.

“I haven’t signed many autographs before,” said Franziska, which Maya took to mean any autographs. “What would you like me to write, Pearl Fey?”

Pearl chewed the edge of her thumbnail. “Just your name, if that’s okay.”

Franziska nodded and, after failing to find a flat surface close enough, pressed the piece of paper against the nearest wall. Maya didn’t protest. Any ink bleeding through would only complement the other faded stains on the wall, which Maya suspected would glow under Luminol (Ema would be delighted to perform the tests to confirm that and even offer her a “technical sisters-in-law, kind of” discount on her services as a forensic scientist, but Maya didn’t want to know, to be honest). Franziska wrote her name with a flourish. Disgusted but not surprised, Maya watched as she handed the perfect cursive signature back to Pearl.

“Thank you, Your Highness!” Pearl clutched the signature to her chest. “I’ll go hang it up right now!”

She dashed off, leaving Franziska and Maya all by their lonesome again. Maya gestured to the couch in the living room instead of being lured into petty bickering again. “You can go sit down, you know.”

Franziska looked like she was about to argue, but she was cut off by a yawn that made her turn bright red and then on her heel. She marched over to the couch, where she sank down with a whump. Maya eyed the amount of glitter spilling onto her carpet and decided it, much like the no-longer-hypothetical ink stains on her wall, wasn’t worth it. Last week, Trucy had spilled a small pond of glitter during an ill-advised magic trick that Maya still didn’t understand. The amount Franziska was leaving was nothing.

Maya headed over to the kitchen, deciding to at least get Franziska some water while she figured out what number to call. Where and what was Borginia? How could she get Franziska back? She at least knew it wasn’t through the castle doors on the Wonder Bar billboard, so there was one option back.

Not that she’d ever seriously consider that. Her boss could cross-examine parrots all day if he wanted, but Maya liked to pretend she was more of a realist, even if she’d seen enough pretty weird shit in her time that she wouldn’t discount the possibility. Oh, God, she was considering trying to get Franziska through a fake castle painted on a billboard for a seedy bar that Nick probably shouldn’t have let his underage daughter perform at.

A set of footsteps sounded behind her, making Maya jump and turn on the faucet by instinct. “Um, Mystic Maya?” Maya hummed as she reached for a glass. “Are you going to let Her Highness stay here?”

“Um—we don’t really have a lot of room here, Pearly.” Maya set the glass on the counter and pulled her phone out of her pocket, thumbing the Pink Princess charm hanging from it. “So I was planning on calling her a cab somewhere else to stay, like a hotel or something, since we don’t really know where she’s from or how to get her home, and—”

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder, looking past Pearl’s falling face to the living room. The sight there made her chest tighten.

Franziska had already fallen asleep on the couch. She wasn’t even lying down—just sitting with her knees pressed to her chest and her head down in a position that had to be uncomfortable, neck bent at an odd angle and shoulders hunched forward. Her hair covered most of her face and her tiara was crooked, but her dress was somehow unrumpled. Her chest rose and fell. While Maya couldn’t make out her features between the distance and hair over her face, she looked… sweet in a strange way. Peaceful. Much calmer, at least.

“Huh,” Maya said quietly. She shut off her phone with a smile. “Yeah, she can stay here, Pearly.”

Pearl let out a squeal. Maya shushed her, casting another look to the living room, where Franziska luckily hadn’t stirred. Given how she already acted, Maya didn’t want to know what she was like woken from a sound—and, from the look of things, well-deserved—slumber.

“Hey, it’s getting pretty late, and tomorrow’s still a school day. Go brush your teeth, okay?” Maya ruffled Pearl’s hair. Pearl obliged with a quick bow—more of a nod than a full bow, really, so they were making progress.

Maya took the opportunity to go back to the living room, water abandoned, and rearrange Franziska into a more comfortable position as well as she could when she was working as slowly and carefully as possible so as not to wake Franziska or outstep her bounds. She set a couple of throw pillows behind her head and neck. She threw one of the many, many blankets in their apartment over her—it was soft, fleecy, lilac, and patterned with little unicorn silhouettes. It was also light, so it could provide weight and comfort while not being too much for the dry California heat. The faded color suggested it’d been around since Maya and Mia were kids.

Franziska’s head tilted back, hair falling back over her face. Each exhale blew her bangs up. She looked even more peaceful now, pale eyelashes fluttering and neck forming a hopefully more comfortable angle.

The bathroom door opened. “Goodnight, Mystic Maya,” Pearl called.

“Goodnight, kiddo,” Maya called over her shoulder. A second later, Pearl’s bedroom door clicked shut.

She took one more look at her handiwork and frowned. There was one more thing out of place. She leaned down and straightened the tiara sitting on Franziska’s head—if Franziska hadn’t woken up yet, another tweak wouldn’t hurt. Maya leaned back with a satisfied smile.

She went back to the kitchen, left the glass of water on the coffee table in case Franziska got thirsty in the night, and headed back to her room to send that text to Mia.

Her day had taken a considerable turn toward weird, but still, not half bad.

Notes:

quick character notes:
- franziska is the princess of borginia because (1) it's one of the fictional in-game countries we know the most about (minus, idk, khura'in by virtue of having most of a game set in it) & (2) there's an implication in aj that borginian is a germanic language (machi calls apollo "yoostis" or something to that effect). yeah that's it.
- maya is a paralegal bc i liked the idea of her just being an ordinary person (as ordinary as maya fey can be, i guess). i could see her becoming a lawyer in a more canon-aligned au especially post-t&t (partially out of her own interest, partially as an homage to mia), but i couldn't think of a good reason with mia still alive, so instead maya is in a role where she's an assistant figure like in canon but more directly involved in the legal process.

also, please disregard any notion of a canon-adjacent timeline. aa already plays calvinball with its own continuity, so this is in the true spirit of the games, but if you have any questions about the timeline [throws a smoke bomb and disappears into the night]

anyway, thanks so much for reading; see you on friday for chapter 2!! if you have time to spare, comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3

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Chapter 2: Wish Upon a Turnabout

Notes:

hey, welcome back! this one is mostly franziska so [peach time comic voice, which doesn't actually exist because it is a visual medium] Franziska Time

also, i'm completely done editing now minus the epilogue! so i will be able to maintain this update schedule (aiming for afternoons/evenings pacific time, but i wanted to get this one out a little early) 8-) and i know everything that happens. sitting on a lot over here. anyway, enjoy!!

Princess Franziska von Karma of Borginia was having a horrible day.

Her wedding day to the foolish prince she’d foolishly betrothed herself to had the gall to arrive after months that had dragged on until the previous week or so, when time began moving far too fast. She’d never regretted a decision so much as she had this one. Divorce would be an option someday, she had been trying to tell herself, but that distant hope was quashed by the realization that it would have to be when her eventual role as queen had come and gone (which meant on her deathbed, because she would only give up her rule if there was truly no other option). That morbid reflection while she laid awake in the early morning had set a poor precedent for the rest of the day to come.

Her father, too, had not been seen all morning. The last time Franziska could remember speaking to him had been several days ago, in fact, and she hadn’t seen him in person, instead communicating via letters. This only served to sour her already low mood.

Franziska had also dismissed her ladies-in-waiting this morning, so she had to settle for being prepared by her little brother. Though he was more hovering behind her while she prepared herself. A job wasn’t worth doing if she couldn’t do it herself, as far as she (being a von Karma) was concerned.

“For the love of God, Franziska,” he was saying—more hissing—for the nth time, “would you sit still?”

“Would you be able to sit still if you were being married off to someone you had never met and would never be interested in in thousands of years?” Franziska retorted, gripping her sleeve despite Miles’ many complaints that she would rip the silk gown she had worked so hard on. She hadn’t done most of the work; the birds and deer and squirrels and various other creatures had assisted, a fact that showed in the non-cosmetic imperfections. Like how easily it would rip, if Miles was to be believed. “At least I won’t have to move to the fool’s kingdom and become his queen consort.”

This was true, but it was because Franziska hadn’t even chosen a crown prince to get engaged to. She’d picked a prince whose younger sister, somewhere around twelve years of age, was prioritized over him due to her probable spirit channeling powers. He was still a powerful man, but nowhere near as powerful as Franziska could have used.

Miles muttered something under his breath. Franziska couldn’t make out the exact words, but she was sure it involved her moving to another kingdom, so she snapped her whip against the vanity.

Miles doubled back with a yelp of, “Franziska!”

“What is it now, Miles Edgeworth?”

“The whip,” he said through his teeth, distaste in every letter. Franziska had refused to look at the mirror since she’d walked in, so she turned to see his irate expression firsthand. “I would have thought you would have liked to, er, forgo that on your wedding day of all days.”

Franziska sniffed. “There is nothing sentimental about today. I am making myself a fool by marrying a foolish prince I’ve never so much as spoken to. I know not what foolish behavior he may act out, so my whip is a necessary precaution.”

“Yes, but—” Miles trailed off, apparently seeing that he was fighting a losing battle, and cleared his throat. Franziska turned back around with a smirk and her eyes closed. “You won’t be wearing a veil, either?”

Franziska’s smirk dropped in a heartbeat. She opened her eyes only to narrow them. “No.”

“And yet you’ve already put together such a traditional ensemble,” said Miles, gesturing to her long, exorbitantly frilly white dress and jewel-encrusted tiara. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to perfect things by adding a veil?”

“Do not attempt to manipulate me, Miles Edgeworth!” Franziska whipped the mirror again with a resounding crack. God, she hoped it broke. “Loath as I am to say it, this day will not be perfect. It cannot be perfect so long as I am marrying someone I have been forced to chose.” Let alone a man, she didn’t add. It wasn’t something she was ashamed about, just something she got the impression she should hide for the sake of her kingdom and family—she’d never spoken of it to Miles but had an odd feeling he understood.

Now, though, he sighed. “You were the one who arranged the betrothal, might I remind you.”

“Were it not a matter of international peace and justice, as well as my duty to uphold those standards, I would not have made such a foolish decision. The planning alone—” Franziska gagged.

“The people need to see you’re actually getting married,” appeased Miles, despite looking no happier about it than she. “Reputations to uphold and all that.”

“Yes, of course, but does it have to be quite so—” She made a strained noise somewhere in her throat and gave a vague gesture to indicate the foolishness of most of the decisions that had been made about her wedding, most not made by but for her. “Awful?” she settled on, which seemed like an understatement.

“The wedding itself will take no more than an hour,” said Miles calmly, “and you get full range to both an open bar and your eight-tiered chocolate sponge cake afterward.”

“…So when must we be at the castle again?”

As if answering her question, a clock chimed in the distance and a horse-drawn carriage—loud but effective—pulled up outside. Miles straightened out his lapels. “Right now.”

Franziska stood with a wince—sitting for several hours while she prepared and Miles assisted had not done her any favors—though she refused to take the arm Miles offered for support. She marched over to the carriage, nodded at the driver, and hopped in without a word. Miles climbed in after her. He was lucky there was more than enough room for two, otherwise she would have made him walk or ride one of the horses. She was tempted to anyway. If she wasn’t going to have a good day, she might as well have gotten a few laughs out of it.

They were moving before she could change her mind, however, so she folded her hands in her lap and watched the trees roll past through the window to her side. The silence—save for the rocking and whinnies every time they bumped a rock—was uncomfortable but bearable. Miles opened his mouth a couple of times to attempt to break it, but a raised eyebrow from Franziska shut him up every time.

After only a few minutes of travel, the carriage pulled up to the castle. Since Franziska’s betrothed and his family had arrived and become guests, Franziska had been effectively exiled to Miles’ home not far away. Franziska’s father had said he wanted to uphold the tradition of the bride and groom not seeing each other until the wedding, which Franziska obeyed because she listened to her papa, and if the tradition was important to him, then it was to her as well. Even if she thought it was a foolish tradition for fools.

But now they were here, back home, and regardless of whom she would be expected to live in it with, she was glad to be back. She climbed out of the carriage, Miles close behind, and nodded at the driver again. He tipped his hat in her direction and then was off.

Now in silence again, Franziska and Miles stood at the base of the stairs where she had stopped, not looking at each other as they waited for the musical cue inside. After a moment, Miles—looking reluctant and more uncomfortable than Franziska had eve seen him—extended his arm like he had earlier. Franziska looked at it as though it were a half-eaten rat carcass.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled a response, ears pink, and Franziska snapped her fingers. “Speak up, fool!”

“I’m walking you down the aisle,” Miles snapped back.

Franziska stared. Then she sneered and elbowed him in the ribs. “You are doing no such thing, Miles Edgeworth. Papa is going to do that. You are going to go into the castle and tell them I will be along as soon as Papa arrives to walk me to my husband-to-be.” She cringed at the very thought. As long as her father was here, she told herself, everything would be fine.

Miles dropped his arm and continued to mutter under his breath even as he obliged her request. Just in front of the door, he paused and turned to look over his shoulder at her.

“What?” Franziska said, suddenly self-conscious. “Is there something wrong with my dress? My face? Should I have worn a veil after all?”

“No,” said Miles, a slow smile crossing his face. He bowed. “I was simply getting my last glimpse of you as an unwed woman, Franziska. I’ll see you soon, then.”

Franziska cracked her whip against the ground. The sound of it against concrete wasn’t quite as satisfying as it against glass, but the way Miles started was rewarding enough. “Get into the castle already, foolish little brother.”

He laughed, making Franziska crack her whip again on reflex, and then walked in.

Inside, Franziska could already hear soft violin music playing. Despite her saying that this wedding was the one thing in her life that couldn’t be perfect, she had made the valiant effort to turn it into a facsimile of a properly perfect wedding. The music was perfect. The decorations were perfect. There would be a live dove release after she and her betrothed (Nahyuta Sahdmadhi, she reminded herself; she had to get comfortable calling him by name soon) took their vows. The vows themselves, on the other hand, were far from perfect. They were clinical, dry, and unromantic, mostly related to the peace that would shine upon their kingdoms, which had been on the verge of warring for years.

In a sense, the absolute lack of feeling in Franziska’s marriage indeed made it a perfect one, or at least it would to her father. She hadn’t expected anything more than this. A marriage out of love was a child’s fantasy—nothing Franziska had desired even as a child, already dissuaded by her father’s lack of emotion toward her late mother.

Even so, she’d at least hoped to know something more than superficial common knowledge about her spouse. The perfect marriage would be one in which its participants, regardless of attraction, were compatible enough to work together. Franziska didn’t— couldn’t — know if Nahyuta Sahdmadhi would be able to work with her. More importantly, she couldn’t know if she could work with him.

She tapped her heel against the ground. Reminding herself that her whip could do the talking should any problems arise, she ran her hand over the handle where it sat at her hip. It had taken a lot of work to make its prominent presence possible. The joys of handmade clothing.

The music was starting to swell, obviously awaiting her arrival, but Franziska’s father was still nowhere to be seen. Would she have to walk into the castle on her own? Franziska dropped onto the steps, bringing her knees close to her chest as she tried to hollow her breathing. Everything would be fine. No, no, everything would be perfect. Everything would—

“Pardon me, miss,” a voice rumbled above her.

Franziska jumped to her feet, already smiling—but just as soon as she had, she recoiled. The man before her was not her papa.

He was shorter and more wrinkled with grimy white hair and a vacant smile. His gaudy cloak cast most of him in shadow, so even that was difficult to make out, but it was enough to make Franziska take a step back, foot catching on the back of the stair above her.

“Pardon me,” she snapped, “but I am waiting for my father. Who are you? Are you here for the wedding? We are not allowing outsiders into the castle.”

“Wedding…?” The old man shook his head, still smiling. “No, no. My name is Yanni Yogi. And you must be the lucky bride! Ah, you look just like—”

Franziska drew her whip. “I care not about what you have to say unless it is about my father’s whereabouts. So is there a point to your incessantly foolish ramblings, or must I silence them?”

“No need for that.” Something about Yogi’s voice changed, making it sound frustratingly familiar, but he wore the same blank expression. “I have a gift for your wedding. Come with me.”

Ignorant or uncaring of her protests, Yogi grabbed Franziska’s wrist and tugged her along. He dragged her around the back of the castle, the extended music growing more and more distant with each haphazard step, and toward a section of the grounds even Franziska wasn’t familiar with. She cast a worried glance over her shoulder. Still, her father was nowhere to be seen, and panic started to fizzle inside Franziska’s chest.

They came to a halt in front of a large well. There didn’t seem to be any water inside, but a faint light blue glow was coming up out of it, and Yogi gave Franziska a shove toward it. She nearly tripped over her own dress but managed to catch herself on the edge of the well.

“It’s a wishing well, child,” Yogi crooned behind her. “You must have plenty of wishes about the life you and your husband-to-be will have together, hm?”

Franziska almost snorted. She didn’t have any wishes anymore, and certainly not any regarding her and Sahdmadhi—except for it to be acceptable for her to break the engagement off.

“So go on, make a wish,” continued Yogi. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint a poor old man, would you?”

Franziska’s eye twitched. She would, in fact, but something about the look on Yogi’s face made her reconsider spitting that out and storming back to the castle, her papa’s presence be damned. His expression had grown sharper. There was an almost dangerous glint to his eyes, and the light from the well was reflecting onto them, making them glow, making him look almost like—

Franziska shook her head and sighed. She had to be seeing things. This wouldn’t take long if she had anything to say about it. “I wish for—”

“Oh, no, you can’t say it out loud—it won’t come true if you do, miss. And you want it to come true, don’t you.” There was no question this time, something that made Franziska tense. She tightened her grip on the edge of the well and shut her eyes. “Good, very good. Now lean in… take a deep breath… and…”

Franziska squeezed her eyes tighter shut as she leaned further forward, basking in the glow emanating from the wishing well and trying to focus on a single wish.

She didn’t get the chance. Yogi said, “Make a wish!” and then he cackled, and Franziska was being pushed forward again, and she gasped as she tumbled straight into the well, unable to catch herself this time, and fell down, down, down—

Franziska gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. Arms outstretched and wind rushing in her ears, Yogi’s laughter still echoing from farther and farther above, she couldn’t help but feel that she’d earned this. How foolish of her to expect anything different.

—down, down, down—

How foolish to follow the orders of an old man approaching her out of the blue like that just because something in his eyes reminded her of her papa when he got particularly angry. While that glint had most often been directed at Miles, Franziska had borne the brunt enough to kowtow to it. But that man was so unlike her father that she was embarrassed in retrospect. How had she tricked herself into thinking some idiotic old fool was capable of the same righteous anger as her father? Was she that lost after days of his absence?

—down, down, down—

And now, because of her foolishness, she would never truly impress the man himself, never win Miles’ respect and reverence for rising above him, never be the one to secure peace between Borginia and Khura’in—

—down, down, down—

That meant, of course, that she wouldn’t have to marry against her deepest wishes, but at what cost? She would perish here in a well at the hands of an old common fool, her body likely never found. Without the marriage and without a princess, the two kingdoms would descend into madness and war, since Borginia would be back only in her father’s hand, which would never sign a proper peace treaty unless held down to the paper by another’s hand—

—down, down, down—

Did this well go deeper than it should have? Franziska didn’t know much about wells, but she had been falling for, she felt, far too long, caged by darkness on all sides. Logically, she should have hit the ground—or water, which she couldn’t see nor smell—by now. This couldn’t be an ordinary well. So—

A flash of brilliant light obscured Franziska’s vision and thoughts before she could come to a proper conclusion. When she could see and feel again, there was a solid weight under her and the thick scent of filth all around, strong enough that Franziska held a hand over her nose as she looked up.

Natural light streamed down toward her. Franziska pressed her ear to the cold, metallic ceiling. She could make out the faint sounds of people moving and talking, of odd whirrings and screechings she didn’t recognize.

Wherever she was, she wasn’t in Borginia anymore.

But Princess Franziska von Karma was no quitter. She would find her way back even if it took forging her own path by hand. So she took a deep breath and made a belated wish, for herself rather than Yanni Yogi or her stranger of a fiancé.

And then she slammed her palms up and rose up from the ground. She shoved the heavy metal plate above her to the side as she pushed herself up onto a dark gray street that extended as far as the eye could see.

She emerged in a bustling crowd. Colors and noise exploded in every direction. Everything caught Franziska’s attention, wide eyes darting from place to place as she took in her surroundings, too fast to truly process anything. People clogged the paths around her. Bright, tall buildings sat everywhere she looked. The whirring, no longer a distant annoyance but a very close one, rumbled toward her as fast as a dragon’s fire could wipe out a village of peasants.

Franziska gripped her whip like a lifeline. She took a single step forward and was immediately almost crushed between three garish and confusing machines, all of which came to halts like carriages at her appearance. They didn’t quite whinny like horses, but the screeching noises were so much worse.

A person behind the screen of one made a gesture at her, shouting visible but not audible. Franziska struck the front of their machine with her whip and stormed off.

All at once, the commotion multiplied—more audible shouts and screams, beeping and roaring as more contraptions (which Franziska now took to be some kind of vehicle) approached and stopped, the grounding crack of her whip as she struck mid-dash without looking to see what or whom she was hitting. As she made her way toward the side of the path, she collided with someone’s solid chest.

She heard a chuckle as she stepped back, mortified, and came face-to-face with the scruffiest man she’d ever seen in an equally scruffy jacket. “Whoa, pal, careful there!” he said, grinning, and with a dull sense of relief, Franziska realized that she understood the language. English wasn’t her favorite, but she could speak it. “Hey, you look a little lost—you okay? Need any—?”

Franziska was already rushing off. While she could speak English, she had no intentions of doing so with this particular man. She shoved her way further through the crowd, ignoring his calls after her, and managed to make her way to a dark side area where there were no more streams of people. It was not silent, but it was quiet enough that Franziska closed her eyes and pressed herself against the wall with a sigh.

Where do I go from here? She wrapped her whip around her fingers, unwrapped it, and repeated the process, matching the pattern of her breaths. Calm yourself. You are Princess Franziska von Karma of the perfect von Karma house and name, and you are going to find your way home.

Home. Where an unwanted marriage, an angry father, and two angry kingdoms awaited her. Thorns formed in Franziska’s stomach.

A devilish thought seeded in her mind: Did she have to return? She didn’t even know if there was a way to return—she could always go back to the place she’d come out of, but she had no intentions of returning to that disgusting pit anytime soon, let alone with all the beasts roaring through the street. She would have to figure out how things worked here, and she would miss Miles and her papa and a choice few of the other nobles, but—

No, no, what was she thinking? Franziska shook her head at such foolish ideals. She was the crown princess. By definition, she did have to return to Borginia and fulfill her duties. No matter how dismal those duties seemed at the moment.

She looked around. The city she had found herself in was bright and loud and—she poked her head out toward the street to give the people another look—uncouth compared to the Borginian cities she was familiar with. But if she was to claim the von Karma name, she would persevere.

Trusty whip under her palm, Franziska took to the streets once more.

*

Franziska woke to blissful silence.

She was half-convinced she was still asleep at first. It was something she hadn’t known in a long time. She basked in the peace for a moment—no nobles or little brothers or fathers outside the door commanding her to make herself presentable for some function she didn’t wish to attend, no incessant chirping of a messenger pigeon on her windowsill.

But the peace was short-lived when she, fighting back a yawn, looked around and the reason for the silence and odd brightness came slamming into her. Last night. The castle, the young woman who had attempted to catch her, the old man who had pushed her into a well back in Borginia—

Franziska sat bolt upright and looked around.

She was sitting on a foolish couch in a foolish place beneath a foolish blanket, which was warm and a pleasant color but otherwise childish and inane. The shapes covering it didn’t even look like unicorns; they looked like lumpy horses with abnormal growths on their foreheads. Or was that what all unicorns were when it came down to it? Franziska, who had never seen one up close to confirm, cringed as some of her childhood fantasies shattered on the ground.

She shook the disappointment and blanket off with a derisive snort. She glanced around, gauging her surroundings in a way she hadn’t gotten to do the previous night, what with the commotion and then exhaustion. In retrospect, it made sense—she’d had a horrid day. She only wished she hadn’t fallen asleep in such a compromising, uncomfortable position.

As she studied the room, she stretched out. It was morning, that much she could tell—she couldn’t parse what the exact time was, and she didn’t know if people here even used the same measurements of time as Borginia. Given how different everything else appeared, she doubted it.

There were no signs of movement or life in the rest of the—apartment, the woman with the strange hair and even stranger clothing (though, Franziska thought with a glance at her dress, which was quickly becoming appalling with the light of a new day, it wasn’t like she wasn’t one to talk) had called it. Maya Fey. Franziska could neither hear nor see her or her small cousin Pearl, so she presumed they were still asleep. Good, that would give her more time to scope out the place without being interrupted.

She stood. There was a short hallway to one side, along which three closed doors were visible—one with a plaque reading “Pearl” above characters of a language Franziska didn’t recognize—and a kitchen area—or at least what Franziska guessed was meant to pass for one under the clutter—to the other. Franziska moved toward the latter. On the way, she noticed a glass of water on the coffee table and frowned but decided to deal with it later. She walked on her toes both to avoid making noise and to lessen the pain that had sprung up through her entire body. As it turned out, falling from a castle in the sky hurt quite a bit even with a human cushion.

Franziska’s thoughts were diverted when she took a step and a squelching noise sounded beneath her foot. She looked down to find something dark and wet clinging to the sole of her boot as she lifted it from a dubious stain on the carpet.

She clicked her tongue and cast another look around. Discarded laundry everywhere, even a stocking hanging precariously from the back of the couch where Franziska’s head had rested not five minutes ago. A pile of uncleaned plates and bowls sat in the sink. Small boxes, some filled with chunks of food, were scattered across the grimy, crumb-covered countertops. Dust and cobwebs clung to most of the corners of the walls and other surfaces, including the coffee table in front of the couch. One could only imagine the state of destruction the other rooms were in.

This, Franziska decided, would not do. It was no suitable environment for a princess’ temporary stay, and certainly no suitable environment for a young girl such as Pearl Fey’s permanent residence.

So she marched to the nearest window and flung it open. Hot air rushed in, as did the distant noises of a city in motion—slow motion, but still motion—and a wave of radiant sunlight that made Franziska’s eyes snap shut on reflex. Once her vision cleared, she leaned out and whistled. It was no song, nor even a melodious tune—just two sharp, high-pitched whip-cracks of sound that rang out in the quiet city.

And then she waited. She wasn’t fond of using the ability unless necessary (which often meant, as in the case of the dress she was now wearing, she had tried to do something beyond her other abilities on her own, failed one too many times, and broken down in tears of shame before biting the bullet), but as far back as she could recall, she’d had a strange connection with animals. They were simply drawn to her, for better or worse. They flocked to her no matter what, but she could summon them with her voice. Franziska wasn’t one for song, as many a music lesson had been ruined by her warbling bringing actual warblers to the (often closed) windows, but she did like whistling. It gave her a feeling of inordinate power.

When the quiet persisted a beat longer than usual, Franziska grabbed a book from the nearest shelf—which wasn’t organized in the slightest—and flipped through. She didn’t even know if her strange ability would work here, she realized. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned over the pages without processing any words.

At a sudden explosion of sound, she looked up—and froze. The book fell from her hand with a thud that went unnoticed as she took in the scene before her.

Swarming into the Feys’ apartment from a variety of entrances was a veritable menagerie of animals, Franziska assumed, from the city: mangy rats, doves and pigeons with missing feathers and feet, skittering raccoons, buzzing clouds of flies and bees, even an opossum or two. They all piled into the living room, perching themselves in front of Franziska and looking up at her with rapt attention. A scrawny pigeon almost slammed into the closed window before righting itself and landing on the open windowsill instead.

Well. This was a far cry from the woodland creatures Franziska was used to dealing with, but she was unfazed, and regardless of the disease likely carried in many of these animals, she would work with what she had. Bolstered by their attention, she tied her skirt up, rolled up her sleeves, and held her chin up high.

“Well,” she said, “shall we get to work?”

Notes:

the real struggle of this fic was figuring out how someone who had never seen a car before would describe cars. also not actually featuring nahyuta so i couldn't show the Actual Comphet Reaction to seeing him (i, a whole lesbian, went "AH..." the first time i saw him in soj)

anyway, thanks so much for reading! see you on tuesday! if you have time to spare, comments & kudos are always appreciated <33 (i'll do my best to reply to them all for once, but just know that even if i don't get around to it, they still probably made me briefly cry!)

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Chapter 3: Turnabout In Transit

Notes:

not much to say about this one except that's there's a lotta talking (but no actual lotta, sadly. or fortunately depending on your opinion of her) and, as always, enjoy! 8-)

Maya woke to the sounds of distant squeaking and her cousin’s palms making contact with her midsection. Oddly, she didn’t feel the latter, which she would later chalk up to her half-asleep state as she flopped over with a weak groan along the lines of five more minutes, knocking Pearl’s hands away.

There was a brief, precious moment of silence, and then the slaps returned. Unfortunately, Maya could feel them now, and now Pearl was chanting, “Wake up wake up wake up!” in her ear.

Maya groaned again and weighed the likelihood she’d get even five more minutes of sleep. Somewhere around ten percent—math had never been her strong suit.

She sat up, rubbing her bleary eyes. It couldn’t be that late since Pearl hadn’t knocked with a deceptive amount of strength for such a petite girl and whimpered, “Mystic Maya, could you walk me down to the bus stop?” Well, maybe it could be that late if that hadn’t worked, which hadn’t happened yet but was bound to at some point. Maybe this was that point.

It was already light outside, though, sun covering the entire room through Maya’s closed curtains, so it wasn’t that early either. No matter what the exact time was, Maya’s body thought it was too early to be conscious.

“What’s up, Pearly?” she managed, looking over at her.

Pearl was still wearing her pajamas—good, so Maya hadn’t overslept too much—along with a much too fierce determination for this early in the morning. “Something amazing is happening,” she said in a hushed tone.

“What’s amazing is the fact that I’m awake,” muttered Maya.

Pearl ignored that. “You have to come see, Mystic Maya!”

The squeaking sound had intensified. Maya shrugged, fought back a yawn, and got up. When she apparently wasn’t moving fast enough, Pearl took matters into her own hands—she grabbed Maya’s wrist and dragged her toward the living room with, again, a strength that didn’t match her physical form. Maya stumbled after, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.

The sight that awaited her in the living room was nothing Maya could have expected. As Pearl dropped her wrist, bouncing on her heels, Maya pinched the inside of her elbow. If it hurt, she couldn’t feel it anyway.

Princess Franziska von Karma of the alleged country of Borginia, whose entire existence came crashing down on Maya once again—though not literally this time—was standing in the middle of the living room with her back turned to Maya. Instead of her elaborate wedding dress, she wore a dark purple-gray dress that was more practical but still had a disturbing amount of ruffles. It looked familiar in a strange way, but Maya couldn’t process that now. Franziska’s hair was tied up in a bun with a strip of white ribbon that looked like it may have come from the wedding dress.

More startling than her presence was the added presence of many, many animals. A flood of critters ran past her and Pearl—they were moving too fast for Maya to identify any of them, fast enough that it made her hair stand on end, but she thought she saw a bright white opossum in the mix. Right now, Franziska was directing several pigeons to hang out a clothing line—covered in, Maya realized, laundry she’d discarded around the apartment—to dry. Oh, so that’s where that bra went, Maya thought with faint horror as it flew past.

A scurrying sound came from beneath her, followed by a yelp from Pearl. Maya glanced down to find a rat sweeping up crumbs with its tail. When it noticed Maya and Pearl, who had also leapt behind Maya and was standing on tiptoes to sneak a glance, looking at it, it looked up with a squeak and what Maya thought might have been a wink.

“What the fuck,” she said under her breath.

It was still loud enough to catch Franziska’s attention. As soon as she turned, Maya realized why the dress looked so familiar—it was hard not to recognize the living room curtains.

Franziska had repurposed them into a sleeveless knee-length dress with another white ribbon around the waist, which went surprisingly well with the long black gloves and high-heeled boots Maya could only assume were from last night’s outfit. She no longer wore her tiara, either, but it was sitting on the coffee table where the water Maya had left sat. She was also wearing an apron that didn’t resemble anything else in the apartment. Maybe it was from the depths of the hall closet.

“Oh, hello,” Franziska said, unperturbed. “I was cleaning up your pigsty of a home. I see you’ve finally woken to provide some assistance.”

“Um.” Maya fought back a yawn and glanced down at herself. She was still in her clothes from yesterday, which wasn’t a good look, and everything was starting to go fuzzy again. Also, she was pretty sure a dust-coated raccoon had just darted out from behind her entertainment center. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure I’m still asleep. You made a dress out of my curtains?”

Franziska looked toward the curtains in question, which were pulled to the side and missing a section in the shape of a dress pattern. “I could not do this in my wedding dress, could I? And besides, I thought I would be doing you a favor by forcing you to get new curtains instead of the awful ones that are up right now.”

“Yeah, they are kind of terrible,” Maya said, eyeing the moth-eaten edges still visible on Franziska’s dress. “But—but still, they were my curtains! And, okay, they might have been from the Dollar Tree, but nice curtains are expensive—”

“It’s a beautiful dress, Your Highness!” Pearl interrupted with an innocent smile.

“Hey, I was still complaining!”

“Thank you, Pearl Fey,” said Franziska, looking genuinely touched.

Maya sighed. “Fine, I see how it is. Still not happy about the curtains, but it really is,” she admitted. “And I gotta admire your resourcefulness—craftsmanship is a dying breed, especially when you have limited materials.”

Franziska only scoffed. “I have been up for hours attempting to clean your apartment, but with all of this help—” she gestured to the chaotic scene that was Maya’s pest-infested apartment “—I had spare time. There were some difficulties in working out how the magical contraption in your bathroom worked, even once the cockroaches plucked the hair from the drain, but I managed to make use of it.”

“Magical—you mean the shower?”

“Yes, that,” said Franziska, haughty smile returning. “There are so many buttons—and where does the water come from?”

“The pipes?”

Franziska tilted her head. “And from where do the pipes get it?”

“Um… from wherever the pipes get it, I don’t know, I’m pretty sure the whole water process is actually kinda gross. You don’t have, like, showers or baths where you’re from?” Franziska smelled of Pearl’s Japanese Cherry Blossom body wash now, but Maya thought she had smelled kinda nice before, not that she was paying all that much attention.

“We have baths in Borginia,” said Franziska, and Maya gave a quiet sigh of relief, “but nothing so interesting nor so complicated.”

As Maya nodded like she understood, the bathroom door slammed down the hall. A swarm of flies carrying several wet towels buzzed out. Maya ducked and shoved Pearl’s head down on reflex—unnecessary as it was—to avoid being knocked over when they flew by. She straightened and watched, both impressed and disgusted, as the flies made their way out the window to wring the towels out (hopefully not on pedestrians below). She turned back to Franziska with a blank expression.

“While I will take what I am given and make it work, I wasn’t too happy with the kind of help I managed to summon,” said Franziska, tapping her foot. “I’m more familiar with deer and smaller birds—” a pigeon flew past her head “—and rabbits and the like, not common pests like these.” She gave a pair of raccoons trying to empty the vacuum in the corner a dark look. “But I am still good with animals, so I accepted the help.”

Pearl tugged at Maya’s shirt. “Mystic Maya,” she whispered, “I think we invited a Disney princess into our apartment.”

“Yeah,” Maya whispered back, still dumbstruck. “Um, look, Your Highness—”

She stopped to look around now that her vision was starting to even out again. Even with the disease-ridden animals crawling around almost every visible part of her apartment, it looked the cleanest it had since she moved in. Hell, it was probably the cleanest it had been since before the apartment had first had anyone living in it, if the stoners who lived here before Maya and had left things in such a state that she, Mia, and Lana had had to regrout were to be taken as an example of the past tenants as a whole. To the untrained eye (read: Maya’s), it looked perfect.

“Well, you’ve done the best cleaning job I’ve literally ever seen in my entire life,” Maya said, turning back to an expectant Franziska. “So can you get rid of all of our, um, guests and sit down for—” she checked the clock “—about an hour before Pearly has to get to school so we can figure out how to get you home?”

Something like relief slipped into Franziska’s scowl. “Very well.”

She whistled like a dog trainer, two short sounds that made even Maya jump to attention. Every animal in the apartment dropped what it was doing (a bad idea, in the case of the raccoons doing the dishes) and came running over to her. Maya held Pearl to her side to keep her from being trampled. Pearl didn’t protest.

Now faced with a literal army of feral animals, Franziska smoothed down her apron. “I don’t know how to get rid of you,” she said slowly. “I never have had to before.” She shot Maya a look like it was Maya’s fault a solid quarter of the wild animal population of California was in her living room. “But you have accomplished your task and done it well, and so now I dismiss you.”

She waited, surveying her small kingdom—and, to Maya’s astonishment and even Franziska’s shock, all of the animals filed away without a moment’s hesitation. Doves and pigeons fluttered out the window, leaving a single white feather that Pearl ran to collect. Rats and raccoons and opossums scuttled away, hopefully not to Maya’s cupboards. The insects followed the birds out of the window. Soon, only Maya, Pearl, and Franziska were left in the living room, the silence more unnerving than peaceful now.

After a moment, Maya coughed. “Hey, thanks for cleaning our apartment. What do you say, Pearly?” She nudged Pearl in the side, though the insistence wasn’t really needed.

“Thank you, Your Highness! Can you cook?” she added a beat later, wearing the idealistic expression of someone who’d only eaten half-burnt toast and Pop-Tarts for breakfast for the past few months.

Maya couldn’t deny the gurgling of her own stomach, but she still gaped. “Pearly! She’s our guest, and anyway, we’re supposed to be figuring out where she’s from and how to get her back home today. We wouldn’t want to—”

“I can cook.” Franziska smiled, small and almost genuine but still with that arrogant edge to it. “Your kitchen’s contents were—” She paused to shudder. “I do not wish to speak of them, but I took it upon myself to send a few of the doves for food with something I assume is a form of currency in this land.” She held up a five-dollar bill. “They brought this and several bags back.”

“You—where did you find money?” Between the dress and the cash, not to mention the cleaning of the entire apartment, Maya couldn’t help but wonder what else Franziska had snooped around in.

“Between your couch cushions. Would you like me to cook?”

Maya’s mouth opened and closed. Damn, she really needed to find a better hiding place. Already feeling like this was going to bite her in the ass but helpless under Franziska’s confident smile and Pearl’s wide, pleading eyes, she sighed. “As long as it’ll be done in less than thirty minutes or so, sure.”

*

Having breakfast made for her by a princess would have been a huge fantasy fulfillment for Maya had the princess not been insufferable and spent the entirety of her time cooking commenting on how the von Karmas were perfect chefs and she had made many meals when the cooks in her castle hadn’t lived up to expectations. For Pearl, she was sure, these tales—which began as soon as she got back from getting dressed—only sweetened the pot. (Or frying pan, which Franziska was holding but Maya hadn’t even realized she owned.) Maya just kept looking around her apartment, feeling detached from her body and hit with that thought of this is the opening scene of an early 2000s drama again.

She was so out of it that she didn’t notice Franziska had set a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of her until the whip rapped against the table. Maya jumped, glanced down, and then looked across the table, where Pearl was already digging in. “Hey,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Pearl’s plate, “why’d you give me less than Pearly?”

“Pearl Fey is a growing girl. You, I assume despite how foolishly you behave, are a fully-grown adult woman.”

“Maybe, but I can still eat!”

Pearl stopped stuffing her face for a second to say, “It’s true, Mystic Maya has the appetite of a lion,” before returning to her food.

“If that’s the case, then she will find something else to snack on, I’m sure.”

Maya puffed out her cheeks and rolled her eggs around with her fork. Pearl never ate much in the morning, anyway, so she could always steal some cold bacon off her plate later if she was still hungry.

She waited until Franziska sat—at the head of the table, of course—and started eating to try her food. Upon shoving a forkful of eggs into her mouth, her eyes widened. “Oh, fuck, this is really good!” She mouthed a sorry at Pearl when she got a scandalized look, which could have been either for talking with her mouth full or swearing (who was the vaguely parental figure here, anyway?), though she was pretty sure the eggs she was still chewing muddled the message somewhat.

Franziska smiled. “I told you my cooking abilities were perfect.”

Maya swallowed and paused to spare Pearl of more disgust. Despite wanting to steal her food, she did want her to grow normally, and ruining her appetite this morning wouldn’t be great. “Yeah, what’s the deal with that, anyway? I wouldn’t have thought you’d be much good at this kind of stuff, being a princess and all.”

“There were few maids in our household,” said Franziska. “My father doesn’t trust the work of others to live up to his expectations, so he and I would carry out much of the cleaning and other housework—I started when I was very young, so it passed mostly onto me before long. Sometimes my little brother and various animals assist as well.” She tilted her head with a seething look. “I would have thought you would have known how to do simple chores, Maya Fey, based solely on your age.”

“I can do chores!” Maya said, well aware of how half-hearted it sounded. Pearl openly stared, and Maya shot her a glare. “I’ve just been really busy lately! I mean, Fey & Wright has taken on, like, a bajillion cases this month ‘cause Nick is a mess of a human being—”

Franziska’s cocky smirk dropped into confusion. “Fey & Wright?”

“Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting we don’t actually, like, know each other.” Probably dangerous since they’d only met last night, but Maya would let it slide for now. Franziska would be gone before long if they did their job right, anyway. “Fey & Wright Law Offices, the firm my sister owns. Well, her and Nick, who’s my best friend and my sis’s employee and also my boss. He’s cool, right, Pearly?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Nick is very kind,” Pearl said with a nod. “And so is his daughter, Trucy. We go to school together and we’re close friends even outside of it,” she told Franziska, who still looked bewildered.

“You’re that close with your employer, Maya Fey?”

With some difficulty, Maya swallowed bacon she’d shoved into her mouth whole. “I mean, we were friends before he was my boss—I didn’t know I was going to be a paralegal until after I met him, ‘cause I was planning on—um, doing something else.” Though Franziska was objectively a pretty weird person in her own right, the spirit medium thing seemed a bit too much to mention this soon. “Anyway, he’s—okay, yeah, I won’t say he’s the best boss, he lets us get away with way too much and technically Mia is The Boss, you know,” she rambled, hoping but doubting her capitalization for emphasis was audible, “but he’s a fair enough employer. And stuff.”

Franziska blinked. Maya got the impression that about half of what she’d said had flown over her head. “And what does he do as your employer?”

“He’s a defense attorney! So is my sis Mia, and so is Apollo, and Athena will be soon, but right now she goes to Themis Academy.” Maya shoved another clump of eggs into her mouth. “We’re technically not focused on anything, but we mostly deal with criminal law, especially murder cases because we just tend to attract death—wait, wait. Is there even a judicial system where you’re from?”

“There is, but I am not that well-versed in it—I have other duties and responsibilities, as you know.” Franziska hesitated, folding her arms. “I do know smuggling is punishable by death, however.”

“Really? Here, it’s just, like—” Maya, who had never dealt with a smuggling case, racked her brain for half-forgotten knowledge from law textbooks. “A long time in prison or a fine or something, I don’t know. Hardly ever death.”

Franziska shrugged. “A certain item is only found in our kingdom, so it sells for quite the amount in underground markets. Last month, a man was convicted of smuggling one of these cocoons and was executed for it—my little brother told me about it,” she added. “While I don’t have the time to be interested in the dealings of our courts, he does.”

“Huh.” Maya was about to continue that line of questioning, but she caught a glimpse of the clock out of the corners of her eyes and almost choked on her eggs. “Ack! Pearly, we’ve gotta get to the bus stop!”

Pearl’s eyes widened. She stood and, moving faster than Maya would have thought possible before her impressive show of strength earlier, snatched her backpack and shoes on her way to the door.

Maya grabbed her keys off the counter and followed. “Frannie, wait here, I’ll be back in like two minutes!”

“It’s Franziska—or Your Highness,” came an affronted call from behind them, but Maya and Pearl were already gone.

*

When Maya got back from the bus stop a few blocks from the apartment, Franziska had taken the “wait here” as literally as possible and was sitting right before Maya had left her. The only noticeable difference was that her plate was now empty.

Maya froze in the doorway, sandal half-off. Franziska said nothing, just acknowledged her with a stiff nod and got up to clear the table.

Huh. Maya could get used to that.

She kicked off the rest of her sandals and rolled her eyes at herself. It wasn’t fair to basically kidnap a literal princess (if she was to be believed, of course, but Maya thought Franziska deserved more than suspicion by this point) and make her do household chores she was too lazy and broke to handle herself most of the time. Wasn’t that something wicked stepmothers did in fairy tales?

Oh well, she could at least relish in it before she had to figure out how to get Franziska back to Borginia. She dropped back into her seat in time to snatch Pearl’s half-finished breakfast out of Franziska’s hands. “I’ll finish this,” she said with a grin.

Franziska looked at Maya’s own plate, which was almost licked clean save for a scrap of bacon that Maya swiped back. She looked back at Maya with a single eyebrow primly raised.

“What? I have a separate stomach for delicious breakfasts,” said Maya, giving Franziska her best puppy-dog eyes. They were nothing compared to Pearl’s, and they didn’t work on either Mia or Nick anymore, but they did almost make Franziska drop the plates she was already holding. Still got it! “Besides, you wouldn’t want your lovingly home-cooked meal to go to waste, would you?”

“This is not my home and you have ways of storing it,” said Franziska, expression sour, but she moved onto the sink without taking Pearl’s plate.

Maya pumped her fist as soon as Franziska’s back was turned. She speared some of the remaining bacon—which was most of it—on her fork. She’d just raised it to her mouth when she remembered she had work and, by extension, court today and shot back to her feet with a squeak of, “Oh, fuck!”

Franziska almost dropped another plate. She muttered something in what must have been Borginian before snapping in English, “Good God, what are you foolishly yelling like a fool over there for?”

“I have to get to work.” Maya pushed Pearl’s plate away with a mournful look and kicked herself back from the table. She could already hear Franziska moving over to push her chair back in as she scrambled across the room to get her bag and shoes, but she was too busy to care until she was in the doorway. “Shit, I shouldn’t leave you here,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “Wanna come to Fey & Wright Law Offices with me today? We can totally make Bring Your Dark Disney Princess To Work Day a thing.”

Franziska stared. “What?”

“Never mind. You coming or not?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Probably not, unless you want to spend all day cleaning my apartment some more.”

“It would take all day,” Franziska muttered. She untied the apron—which Maya now thought was a present from Ema for some holiday before they’d actually gotten to know each other and had no clue what appropriate gifts were—and draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “How are we getting there? A horse-drawn carriage?”

Maya snorted. “God, I wish, that’d be so cool.” She considered LA traffic on a good day and reconsidered. “Okay, maybe not in this city. But—no, the office is close enough to walk—”

Hope dawned on Franziska’s face for about half a second.

“—but with how late I am, we’d have to run, so we’re going to take the subway instead.”

And just as fast, it was gone. Franziska half-jogged after Maya, who ducked back to grab her keys before she could forget (she’d had to ask her landlord for a spare key an uncomfortable number of times and was starting to get embarrassed about asking again). “The what?”

Maya hauled Franziska out of the door and locked it behind them with the speed, precision, and lowkey hysterical laughter of an axe murderer. “No time to explain, just time to go go go!”

*

When they walked into Fey & Wright Law Offices, the entire building was a dead zone, which was unsettling with how lively it tended to be. Still, it was probably for the best given the green tone that had taken over Franziska’s face and the way she was clutching her mouth like she had been since they got on the subway. Maya patted her back with a wince. Franziska didn’t react aside from continuing to pant, so Maya decided to leave it be.

She reached for her keys before remembering that Nick never locked up during the day because he was irresponsible and a notorious loser of keys. So instead, Maya shoved the door open with a shout of, “Good morning! Sorry I’m l—”

She stopped in the middle of the room and her sentence. Franziska’s footsteps trailed after her, but Maya paid no attention, narrowing her eyes at the sole occupant of the room.

Instead of bustling about trying to gather materials for the trial they had to be at in less than twenty minutes—which was something given neither of them owned a car and Mia was nowhere to be seen—or waiting by the door, Nick was sprawled out on the couch with his jacket off. He still looked a hair away from a nervous breakdown, but that was a typical expression of the employees of Fey & Wright.

“Morning, Maya.” Nick didn’t even look up from the meaty case file he was reading. “Mia’s out with a potential client—or maybe Lana, I didn’t ask and she didn’t clarify, but she seemed kind of irritated. Apollo and Athena are around—” Maya looked around, but the rest of the room stayed as empty as it had been at first glance “—somewhere, I don’t know, but I don’t think they’ve left the office, so they might be in the back. Athena might be skipping school, though, so she might have climbed out the window. Oh yeah, and the trial today’s been rescheduled for twelve-thirty.”

Maya choked. “What?! Why did you leave that for last? Are you telling me I drove thirty miles in the pouring down rain at ass o’clock in the morning for nothing?!”

“You don’t have a car,” said Nick. “Also, the office isn’t even a mile from your apartment. And we live in LA. And it’s eight-forty.”

“I was trying to sound like you, you overdramatic old fart.” Nick opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Maya was already rubbing her temples and moving on. “God, okay, guess I’ll hang out here even though there’s literally nothing to do but read boring legalese and gory case files. Do you know when Mia will be back?”

Nick rubbed his chin. “Well, she left almost—” he looked above him at the clock “—an hour ago, so I’d say right about—”

Behind Maya, the door burst open. “—now, yes,” said Mia, and Maya spun on her heel. Mia was looking down at her phone, thumbing at the keyboard, so she didn’t notice Maya’s half-hearted wave. “Did Phoenix tell you about the rescheduling?”

Maya groaned, a response in and of itself. Mia chuckled.

“Welcome back, Chief,” said Nick, still without looking up.

“Good morning, Chief!” came Apollo’s voice from the back room, making Maya cringe—even through the closed door, it was loud enough to be painful.

…aaand loud enough to startle Franziska, who cracked her whip on what seemed like instinct.

The sudden sound brought everyone’s attention to her. The file in Nick’s hand fell to the floor with a thud. Mia opened and then shut her mouth, pocketing her phone without a word and looking between Franziska and Maya. Maya considered pulling an Athena and crawling out the window rather than trying to come up with a believable explanation in an office full of lawyers and possibly one lawyer-to-be.

No one moved. No one spoke. Even Franziska was standing still after her whip’s outburst, eyes glassy and distant.

Then the back door creaked open. Athena’s head popped out, unraveling Nick’s maybe she climbed out the window theory and lessening Maya’s chances of a clean escape. “Hey, are you guys okay? There are some weird feelings coming from—”

She stopped and took in the scene in front of her: Maya wringing her sweaty hands as she tried to figure out the best way to approach this, Franziska still holding her whip with a faraway look, Mia looking the most overtly shocked she might have in months, even Nick speechless for once in his life.

“Uh,” Athena said, which pretty much summed the situation up. She ducked back into the back office. “Apollo, can you come here for a second?”

Great, the entire office was getting involved. Apollo stepped out beside Athena, the two of them hovering in the doorway. Apollo didn’t look quite as confused as everyone else, only taking Franziska in with a quick frown and tugging at his bracelet. The spacious room was starting to feel cramped and sweltering—they really needed to invest in some better air conditioning. Maya fanned at her neck.

“Maya?” asked Athena after another few moments of creeping silence. “¿Qué pasa? Did you bring someone else on? Because I was really enjoying my place as the new recruit, y’know—”

“Technically, you’re not a recruit yet,” said Apollo with a skyward glance. “Since you’re still a student and not a lawyer yet.”

Athena glared. “Hey! I’m in school to become a lawyer, aren’t I?”

Maya cleared her throat, cutting their bickering off. She weighed her options for a very brief moment before deciding, especially with Athena and Apollo and their BS detector powers around, the best one was the truth. “Um, Your Highness, meet my sister Mia Fey and her employees—” she pointed to each in turn “—Phoenix Wright—Nick—Apollo Justice, and Athena Cykes. Who technically isn’t an employee yet. Everybody…” Come on, Maya, tear that band-aid off and let it bleed all over everything. “Meet Princess Franziska von Karma of Borginia!”

She did a very half-assed attempt at jazz hands, forcing a sunny grin because you couldn’t do jazz hands if you weren’t smiling. You just couldn’t.

Apollo’s brows scrunched. “Borginia? Where’s that?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Maya shot Franziska a glance. She seemed distracted, gaze focused on Mia and head cocked, so Maya elbowed her to get her attention. “Hey, where is it? Borginia, I mean.”

“Just beyond the Meadows of Song and the Valley of Stardust,” Franziska said without a hint of irony.

Apollo and Athena exchanged looks—more shocked because neither of their superpowers was going off than at Franziska’s words themselves, Maya guessed. A choked-off sound from behind her told her Mia was trying not to laugh.

Nick coughed. “Right. Well, Your Benevolence—”

“‘Highness’ will do.” Franziska raised her whip again.

“Urk—! I mean, sure thing, your Highness.” It was kinda funny to see Nick sweating bullets over Franziska, given he stared down killers on the stand on a constant basis, but Maya surreptitiously slid between him and Franziska anyway. “I was going to say that I’ve got some time to kill before the trial—sorry again, Maya—so me, Apollo, and Athena can check out this Borginia while the rest of you—uh—” He gave Maya a somewhat desperate look.

Maya tapped her cheek. “I can go over the records for the Powers case, I guess. And Sis can keep Franziska entertained?” she suggested with a wary glance in Mia’s direction. Franziska herself didn’t appear to be listening.

“That works! Thanks, Maya.” Nick flashed her a bright grin and jumped to his feet with the spryness of a much younger man (okay, to be fair, he wasn’t that old). He faced Apollo and Athena with his fists on his hips. “Let’s hop to it, then, crew!”

“I never agreed to this,” Apollo said.

Athena elbowed him. “Sure thing, Mr. Wright,” she chirped, though Maya noted she was holding her necklace as she disappeared back into the back office. She wouldn’t be surprised if a report about the voice of Franziska’s heart popped up in her inbox tomorrow.

“Make sure you’re back by noon at the latest,” added Nick.

“Same to you,” said Maya. “Don’t get kidnapped or anything.”

“Well, we’re staying here, so Athena would definitely beat up any potential kidnappers—if Apollo’s voice didn’t scare them off first.” Apollo didn’t protest this, only rubbing his forehead as he followed Athena. Nick raised his eyebrows at Maya. “Besides, if anyone here’s going to get kidnapped, it’s you.”

“That was one time!” Nick had already closed the door on her. “Dickhead,” Maya told the door, sticking her tongue out.

With the absence of the other three, an awkward silence crept in again. Mia went over to water Charley while Maya watched Franziska, who was wringing her whip between her hands with a dazed expression, gaze darting between the floor and Mia’s back.

Ah. Maya wanted to pat her shoulder and say, Yeah, most people attracted to women get like that the first time they meet my sister. You’ll get over it. It had been funny and even relieving when she was younger—now, it was just kind of annoying.

“You,” said Franziska before she could do anything.

Mia turned, eyebrows raised and expression curious, and set the water bottle back on the counter. It sat precariously on the edge, where Maya could already see a clumsy staff member of Fey & Wright (including herself) knocking it over sometime soon, but she didn’t think now was the time to bring it up.

“You are Mia Fey, yes?”

“Yes.” Mia folded her hands behind her back. “I think my employees are handling your situation for now, but if you’d like anything to feel more welcome here, just ask.”

“Oh, that wasn’t what I—” Franziska cut herself off with a quiet cough, panic flashing through her eyes as she white-knuckled her whip. She straightened. “I only wished to inform you that you are quite beautiful. The one who holds your heart, if there is such a person, is a lucky one indeed.”

Knew it, Maya thought, already preparing to let Franziska down easy. She was beaten to the punch by Mia, whose cold eyes and colder snort contrasted her faint blush. “Try telling her that.”

Franziska’s eyes widened at the word her, but she lowered her whip and went on. “I’m sure she already knows.”

“Well—” Mia blinked, taken aback, and Maya bit her lip to keep from interjecting as her sister folded her arms and looked away. “It’s a bit complicated.”

“But it doesn’t have to be,” said Franziska, frustration cutting into her voice. Somehow, Maya didn’t think this was just about Mia and Lana. “Not if she knows how much you truly love her. You do, do you not?”

“Very much so.” Mia reached up to touch her scarf. “And of course she knows, it’s just—”

“How?”

Mia fell silent with a frown. “What do you mean, how?”

Franziska looked Mia over, then snapped her fingers with a ferocity that made Maya jump. “Come with me, Mia Fey,” she said, and marched forward. “You may join us, Maya Fey.”

As if in a trance, Mia trailed after, shooting Maya a look over her shoulder that could best be described as somewhere between terror, bemusement, and anticipation. Maya sped up to catch up with Franziska, who was speed-walking so fast it was almost a run.

“Do you know where we’re going?” she hissed.

Franziska’s lips pressed together. “No,” she muttered back, folding her arms. “You’re familiar with this city. Is there anywhere nearby that is outdoors but would have many people, including couples?”

Maya considered that, and a slow smile crossed her face. “Actually, I think I know just the place.”

Notes:

"bring your dark disney princess to work day" was originally a joke made by trucy, and then athena when i realized the scene i wanted it in shouldn't have trucy in it; i ended up cutting it from said scene but still needed it to be mentioned once.

anyway, thanks for reading! see you friday for the next chapter! (it's a fun one!) if you have time to spare, comments & kudos are always appreciated! <3 (i haven't gotten to replying to new ones b/c i've been busy but! sometime soon i promise i will get on that)

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Chapter 4: That's How You Turnabout

Notes:

welcome back! i still haven't gotten the time to reply to new comments, but hopefully i'll be able to get the spare time this weekend!

this is like... the one chapter i recommend you see enchanted for, if only bc that's how you know is a transcendental experience. anyway, enjoy!

“Okay, Your Highness, how is being in People Park going to help me realize how I can show Lana I love her?”

How indeed, Franziska thought, regretting her own words.

After only a minute or so of being in People Park, she wanted to leave. While fewer than she’d expected, there were enough people around that her hand was curled around her whip just in case. She was far from a romantic, but this was just pathetic. Nothing popped out to her as being conducive to romance at all—the gentle sound of chirping birds above was drowned out by the rushing river to the side and the mechanical noises in the streets, and the heat was already painful. Sweat dripped down Franziska’s neck, and she swatted at it the way one might a pesky mosquito.

This place, she was upset to find, was nothing like home. There, the birds chirping were always clear (especially to Franziska). There, cold temperatures were the norm, the dead of winter freezing but tolerable over time—and after she had spent many of them in the mountains.

This is to test your endurance, her father had always said before throwing her and Miles into a cabin for at least a week to fend for themselves. Every year, their forced vacation grew longer. Only the strong will survive in the world, some might say; only the perfect, I say. And then he’d laugh and snap his fingers, and a carriage would roll along to take him back to the castle while Franziska and Miles wasted no time in getting to bickering.

The thought of her father—even of Miles—made her heart pang. She laid a fist over it. Oh, Papa, what have I gotten myself into?

But noticing Mia and Maya’s respectively suspicious and curious eyes still on her, Franziska straightened her shoulders. “You see—that is—” She cast her eyes around. Though she would never admit to showing an ounce of desperation, there was a certain frantic pace to it.

It seemed Maya’s attention was even sharper than her sister’s, watching Franziska with an irritating amount of concentration, and the attention only added to the heat. Franziska tugged at her collar and kept looking. Finally, her gaze landed on a nearby path containing two long benches, both occupied. She was moving toward them before she could think twice.

“You!” she barked, and two rows of elderly people looked up at her. They all appeared to be couples—the majority of the pairs were men and women, but two sets of women were sitting opposite each other. Franziska’s pulse sped up. “How do your beloveds show their appreciation and love for you?”

She wasn’t expecting much. The bulk of her interactions with people this much older than her were with her father—not that she was calling her papa old!—and they rarely dealt with the topic of love, which Franziska had long given up on for herself after hearing her father’s thoughts on the matter.

True love is a waste of time, he had said once, when she was more idealistic and much, much, much younger and had asked about her mother, who had died in childbirth. You are a von Karma, Franziska, so you must not ever waste your time. Don’t ask about this again.

Franziska grit her teeth. These people were not her father. She was not asking for her own means, she was trying to repay the Feys for their hospitality. And this was the best opportunity she’d been given thus far, so she had to try.

When no response at all was forthcoming, only a few glances among the crowd, Franziska squeezed herself onto a bench beside one of the women. Despite her skin prickling at the proximity and what she was about to suggest, she leaned over to whisper something to her. The woman gasped, glanced at the woman across from her (her wife? Franziska guessed with another slight thrill at the phrase), and at once whipped a notepad out of her purse. She tore out blank pieces of paper to pass along the line.

Franziska glanced toward the Fey sisters. They had followed along but were a surreptitious distance away, whispering amongst themselves. Maya met Franziska’s eyes with a nervous grin.

Within minutes, the pieces of paper had all been written on—because, it seemed, all senior citizens carried pens on them—and were now flipped around to face the opposite bench. The husbands and wives gasped, much like the first woman, and crowed at the affirmations of love and affection. The notes were all different, all personal and specific and some alluding to events Franziska knew nothing of while others were simple I love yous or you’re adorables, but none, she suspected, were any less special.

As the couples launched themselves at each other in tight embraces, Franziska stood and brushed nonexistent grime off her dress. There was another pang somewhere in her chest, but it was chased away by the looks on Maya and Mia’s faces when she slipped back over to them. She hadn’t done this for herself; she wouldn’t wait around for foolish, misplaced gratitude from strangers.

From Maya and Mia, though, she’d accept it. She didn’t wait for them to say anything, instead stepping into a curtsy with her arms raised and a loose smirk across her face.

“You really are a Disney princess,” Maya said, mouth hanging open.

The smugness left Franziska’s face in an instant, giving way to confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Maya’s jaw snapped shut. “Okay, after work, I’m absolutely making you sit through a marathon of all my and Pearly’s favorites. I think you’d like—actually, I don’t know you well enough to make a snap judgment about what your favorite Disney movie would be, which is a very personal and revealing thing, so that’ll be a mystery for now,” she rambled, most incomprehensible to Franziska.

Mia wasn’t as openly shocked as her sister, only holding her cheek with widened eyes. “How did you do that?”

Franziska sniffed. “Everyone wants to know that their true love is true,” she said, like it was something she too wished for rather than the mantra of a fairy tale she’d heard ages ago. She had a feeling she’d only half-believe everything she said from now on. “It is the little things that count, Mia Fey.”

In the distance, she heard violins. Her stomach churned, but still, she turned toward the sound, hopeful for another opportunity so soon. Through the bright pink trees all around this maze of a park, she could make out a flock of people carrying bouquets and wearing what must have passed for formalwear around here.

Her stomach settled, if only because the clothes were so much shabbier than hers yesterday. Good, she was worthy after all. Franziska turned back toward the Fey sisters with a satisfied smile. “Would you like to see more?”

“Yes,” said Maya before Mia could so much as open her mouth, but it was a good enough answer for Franziska.

*

If Maya hadn’t bought the princess act before, now she was officially sold.

In the span of about an hour and a half—Maya didn’t have a watch and hadn’t gotten to stand still long enough to look at Mia’s—Franziska had encroached on a group taking photos for an upcoming wedding, a performance of Rapunzel by a local private elementary school (judging by the snooty mothers and absent fathers in the audience), and whatever the deal had been with the rowboats running through the lake. Maya had always wanted to ride in a boat, so she rejoiced at getting to sit pretty while Mia rowed her and Franziska along.

(At least, she did until Mia threw an oar into her lap and said, “Help me already, dammit, you’re not a princess,” which was actually arguable given their mother’s presence in Kurain, but Maya accepted the oar without much fuss. Not that she was very good at steering with it.)

Somehow, nothing had exploded and no one had been arrested during the morning’s escapades. Maya was used to things going so much worse when it came to Fey & Wright’s adventures—she considered a case a true win if no one on the actual legal team was in the detention center at any point in it, body count and bodily harm be damned. (Yes, she’d been arrested one too many times herself for this not to have a bias. It was probably better than getting kidnapped, at least.) It was refreshing to see things not only go non-terribly but well.

Despite her gruff personality, Franziska seemed to have quite the bleeding heart. There were some complicated emotions on her face while she was blowing through the park, sure, and Maya didn’t have the energy to interpret them, but anyone would be hard-pressed not to notice her genuine interest or the smiles on the faces of the people she left in her wake.

As they walked away from the lake, Maya only slightly drenched, Franziska guided them toward a shaded area nearby. Her curtain-made dress didn’t look heavy, at least compared to her wedding dress, but she still seemed to be sweating beneath it. On the way over to the shade, Maya spotted a sign, both a literal and metaphorical one.

“Oh, hey, a ball,” she said with a meaningful look in Mia’s direction.

Come one, come all to the King and Queen’s Ball! Saturday, 10:00 PM, The Grand Tower, the sign read, with the specific address, ticket prices, and what would be highlighted (dancing, live music from the Gavinners and a special performance by a singer named Lamiroir, free food) in smaller text underneath. The lines in Franziska’s forehead deepened the more she read.

“This sounds—fun,” she said after a beat.

“Hey, don’t say fun in a tone that sounds like you’re having your teeth ripped out slowly and painfully,” said Maya.

“Lana likes dancing,” Mia said, considering. “Maybe I should ask—” Realization passed over her face, and her mouth fell into a thin, neutral line before she marched onward to the shaded area Franziska had pointed out.

Franziska and Maya exchanged a look. Maya shrugged. Franziska fiddled with her whip, discomfort filling her face before she took a deep breath and followed Mia. Maya tagged along with another internal shrug.

Mia was already sitting on the grass when they made their way over, skirt tugged over her knees as she sat back on her heels. Franziska flopped down with her legs crossed and as little of her touching the ground as possible. Maya thought, Fuck it, and, in turn, spread out as much as she could, open toes brushing Franziska’s knee and making Franziska jolt back with shock.

Maya giggled, but it was quickly cut off by a throat clear from Franziska. “So, Mia Fey,” she said, “tell me about your—your—” She trailed off with a frown and gave Mia an expectant look.

“My girlfriend,” Mia filled in. At Franziska’s sharp nod, which gave Maya the impression she was committing that word to memory, Mia sighed and started twisting the end of her scarf around her finger. “Well, it depends on what you want me to tell you about her.”

“Start with whatever you can think of.”

“Her name is Lana Skye,” said Mia, expression already softening. “She’s the Chief Prosecutor of Los Angeles, so she does more or less the opposite of what I and the rest of Fey & Wright do. We’ve known each other and been dating on and off since college, but—” She bit her cheek. “She’s a complicated person, first off. There are a lot of things Lana has done, mainly in the courtroom, that I don’t agree with. She doesn’t agree with those things anymore either, I’m sure, and has been making the most amends she can, but still.”

“I see,” said Franziska.

Do you? Maya thought but didn’t say. Franziska hadn’t drawn her whip since they’d left Fey & Wright despite a few close calls, but the tension in her shoulders was building, and Maya didn’t want to be the catalyst, least of all right now.

“That’s what we’ve had the most fights about by a long shot.” Mia laughed, lacking any real humor. “Actually, it’s what broke us up for good in college. She went on to become a detective and then a prosecutor while I kept studying to become a defense attorney. It wasn’t until a few years later that we met again in the courtroom. I… hadn’t kept up much with her career, to be honest, since I think I told her something along the lines of ‘if I ever see your face again in this lifetime, it’ll be too soon’ in our last conversation.”

Maya winced. She’d never heard that part of the story. “Oof.”

“I apologized, she apologized, we kissed and made up.” Mia frowned, tapping her chin. “Except the kissing part didn’t really come until later—”

“Ew, don’t talk about kissing!” Mia shot her a withering look, and Maya crossed her arms, flailing out to kick her in the ankle. “Sis, no offense to you or Lana, but I don’t want to think about you kissing anyone.”

“Seconded,” said Franziska quietly.

Mia snorted. “Fine. Anyway, Lana’s done some things neither of us are proud of,” she said. “She’s very ambitious, and she’d do anything for her work. That’s what’s gotten her in trouble most of the time.” She sighed and reached up to brush some hair out of her eyes. “She’s dedicated and stubborn, though, and one of the most hard-working people I know—that was what attracted me to her in the first place, even. Her ambition in and of itself isn’t a bad thing, it’s just her faith in the idea that the ends will justify the means.

“I know you’re probably getting some mixed messages about Lana right now, Your Highness,” Mia continued, tapping her scarf, “but she really is a kind and impressive person, and I love her with all my heart. It’s just—” She huffed. “Difficult sometimes, because I’m almost as stubborn as she is.”

“Hmm.” Franziska had gone still while Mia had been talking, and there was something tender in her gaze now as she considered Mia. “And what sort of things does your Lana Skye like?”

“You mean, as presents? I’m not actually sure.” Mia folded her hands in her lap. “She’s not very interested in material things, but she does like more, I suppose, upper-crust gifts—fancy wine, flowers, that sort of thing. Mostly things that will be of practical use or only around for a short while, not collectibles she’ll have to find somewhere to keep forever.”

“I see. Thank you, Mia Fey,” said Franziska, and then she whistled the same way she had back in Maya’s apartment.

Maya blinked, but even she couldn’t process what was happening in front of her. When she could again, a small heart created of flowers was hovering in front of her, looking like it had appeared out of thin air—as had the pigeons holding onto it. Right, Maya remembered, Franziska had weird animal superpowers. This display lent even more credence to Maya’s half-baked Disney princess theory.

Franziska patted the floral arrangement and snapped her fingers. “Take these flowers to Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye.”

Mia stared. “They’re birds. They don’t know where she works.”

“I dunno, Sis, they seem to know where they’re going,” said Maya, watching the pigeons fly away without a hint of hesitation, flowers in tow and shaking somewhat in their grasp. “Besides, you have no right to be a skeptic.” She gave the Magatama necklace a pointed glance.

Mia flushed. “That’s different! This is—” She shook her head, apparently deciding not to push it, and looked at Franziska. “Is there anything else, Your Highness? Because I think I’ve been exhausted in terms of love for the morning.”

“You do look kinda green,” Maya observed.

“Fine, we shall take a break for now,” said Franziska. “But I hope you take what you have seen here to heart and make sure to show Lana Skye how much you care for her.” She folded her arms. “Of course, I don’t think the burden lies solely on you—there are two of you in this relationship, so perhaps I will need to have a conversation with Lana Skye about true love as well.”

“We might need to ease her into that.” Mia dusted herself off and stood, and Franziska got up after a beat too. Maya, groaning under her breath, flopped to her feet. “Well, thank you for all you’ve done, Your Highness. I really appreciate it—” Her phone rang, cutting her off. With a startled glance at the caller ID, she picked it up. “Lana? Aren’t you supposed to be—oh! Oh, it wasn’t all my idea,” she said, smiling, “but of course, you’re welcome. I’m really glad you like them. Hey, what would you think about…” She stepped away, voice fading into the background.

As soon as she’d gone, Maya patted Franziska’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen my sister smile like that in a while. Good going, really.”

Franziska didn’t even blink. Her proud expression had taken on a sad twinge, and her eyes were fixed on the ground, glassy and blank.

Maya frowned. “Hey, Franziska—er, Your Highness? You okay?”

Franziska startled, going ramrod straight. Her head snapped up and her gaze darted across Maya’s face, which only seemed to make her stiffen further. “I am fine—perfect, even. Especially now that I have assisted in reconciling those two.” She nodded off to the distance.

“Ah, they fight and make up pretty often, so I wouldn’t worry about them. Not that your help wasn’t super appreciated,” Maya hurried to add when Franziska’s face soured further. “I-In fact, I think they’ll stay on good terms for a while now! Hehe.”

“If you say so.” Franziska didn’t seem to buy Maya’s nervous laughter, not that Maya could blame her. “I shouldn’t have gotten involved,” she said, more to herself than Maya. “Why should these foolish strangers’ romantic lives be any of my concern now of all times?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess you want to focus on getting home, right? Sorry I keep getting distracted.” That, and no one had yet figured out where the hell Borginia was—or, the devil’s advocate in the back of Maya’s mind suggested, if it didn’t even exist and Franziska was a superb actress. But Franziska’s face had fallen again, so Maya cleared her throat and nudged Franziska’s shoulder. “Hey, with all this talk about love—what about your prince, eh? You haven’t met him, but have you, I don’t know, written letters to him or anything?”

“No,” said Franziska, and for a moment Maya thought that was all she was going to get until Franziska sighed and went on. “The correspondence was solely between our fathers. On occasion, I wrote to his father, and once his younger sister wrote to me demanding I take care of her big brother—” she looked almost like she wanted to smile, saying that “—but mostly it was my papa doing the work.”

Maya frowned. “So why are you getting married?”

Franziska gave her a look like she was being extremely dull. To be fair, that wasn’t an uncommon look for Maya to receive, but she didn’t know what made it necessary now. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, like—” Maya wrung her hands, regretting dipping her toe into this topic already. “Arranged marriages and marriages of convenience are a thing here—okay, not exactly here very often, just, you know, around—but what’s so convenient about this one? Are your kingdoms going to merge or something?”

Franziska laughed, sharp and almost mocking. “Hardly. We are separated by an ocean. And he isn’t in charge of his kingdom, nor will he ever be, so he couldn’t assist in that even if it was a goal,” she said, folding her arms with another scowl. “His kingdom follows traditions remarkably different from Borginia’s. The one to inherit the throne is one who shows the most prowess with spirit channeling, a power that is strongest in women—which means his younger sister, who has already displayed prominent spiritual powers, is the crown princess.”

“Huh,” said Maya, then her eyes widened. “Wait! Spirit channeling is a thing there, too?!”

“You know of the practice?” Franziska tilted her head. “As far as I know, it should only exist in Khura’in, and even there it should only be accessible to those of royal blood.”

“Khura’in… that sounds kinda familiar, but—” Maya froze. That had to be a coincidence, but after everything that had happened in her life, she didn’t believe in them anymore. “The village I’m from,” she said slowly. “It’s called Kurain. And a lot of girls and women—including me, once upon a time—are trained to be spirit mediums there, ‘cause men can’t be.”

Franziska’s mouth parted in a perfect ‘O’ shape. They stared at each other for a minute, neither seeming to want to bring up the implications there or dismiss them. Maya, for one, was tempted to run wild with a discussion of parallel universes and alternate realms and all that other sci-fi bullshit she loved, but she thought Franziska might not appreciate her—ahem—foolish suggestions. She just cleared her throat, in the end, and made a gesture along the lines of let’s unpack that later.

“Anyway, your future husband—betrothed,” Maya corrected at the curl of Franziska’s lip. Franziska relaxed, but her eye still twitched. “Why are you betrothed to him, then?”

Franziska tapped a finger against her arm. “Our kingdoms have been at something of a stalemate for some time, neither at peace nor at war, but in my lifetime they’ve progressed toward the ‘war’ end of things. I thought the fastest way to secure peace was marriage. My father is not known for peacekeeping,” she said with a wince. “Obviously neither I nor my brother—who isn’t a prince in the first place, only a knight—would like to marry the very young crown princess, so it was natural for me to propose I wed the prince. The Sahdmadhi royal family agreed, so we became engaged only around three months ago. It’s my duty to follow through.”

Maya lolled her tongue out, making a bleh expression. “That’s kinda fucked up.” At Franziska’s startled look, she raised her hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I’m not knocking arranged marriages or anything. But nowadays, normally people at least meet each other, even if they don’t marry out of love. They go on dates.”

“Dates?” Franziska echoed.

Maya was hit with the agonizing realization that she had to explain dates to another human being (?) her age. Closely following was a fact that she had yet to confront but had been troubled with for a non-insignificant amount of time: She herself hadn’t been on a date in a while.

…A long while.

C’mon, she told herself when her thoughts started to plummet in that painful direction, your inability to get off work or Pearly duty long enough to get any has nothing to do with this! Fight through it!

“Yeah, um—” She floundered, holding her chin as she tried to piece her thoughts back together. “Two people, or maybe more, go somewhere special and usually nice, like out to coffee or a restaurant—dinner and a movie is a classic, it’s the first date—or a museum. And they just hang out and talk.”

“What about?” Franziska’s confusion was now approaching derision.

Maya shrugged. “Anything! But mostly each other. You know, like, yourself, your interests, your likes, your dislikes… I dunno, you just. Talk.”

It was silent for another moment, save for the river nearby. Maya shoved her hands in her pockets. Something in Franziska’s gaze softened for a split second but was gone so quickly Maya was half-sure she imagined it as Franziska looked away with a scoff.

“You have such foolish ideas about relationships.”

Maya’s mouth dropped into a scowl. “Yeah, well—so do you!”

Franziska’s expression shuttered. “Pardon?”

“I mean, you’re getting married to a guy you more likely than not won’t like and you’ve never even talked to because you think it’ll help your kingdoms. But what if it doesn’t?” Franziska opened her mouth, face flushing, but Maya wasn’t done. “You don’t know! Maybe it’ll just make things worse! And your dad might not make peace very often, but shouldn’t you have some sort of say too? It’ll be your kingdom someday, so if he makes a mess, it’ll be yours to clean up.

“And all this talk about only getting married and having kids because it’s—” Maya wiggled a couple of finger quotes “‘your duty’ or whatever, that can’t be healthy! Aren’t you allowed to have your own interests? Even princesses and heiresses should be allowed to be happy without their parents’ expectations and legacies ruling their entire fucking lives.”

Maya panted, realizing far too late how much she had projected and now unable to do anything about it. She covered her mouth to keep any more word vomit from spilling out.

Around them, the park went even more silent. The birds were no longer chirping, the bees no longer buzzing about, and no other people were even visible.

A breeze that shouldn’t have existed in LA, especially this time of year, blew through. Maya shivered, tightening her cardigan. It was too pathetic to cover her face and squint between her fingers at Franziska like she was playing peek-a-boo, right?

She took her chances on a single glance. Franziska’s face had gone as cold and blank as a marble statue. It was somehow scarier than her brandishing her whip—that was all bravado and reckless emotion, but this? This was careful. Measured. Or maybe it wasn’t, maybe this was a real show of brutal emotion, and Maya had just wrecked her so much she was like this forever now.

Maya gulped. Uh-oh. Maybe she’d been paying too much attention to Nick’s bluffing.

At last, Franziska lifted her head, a cool fire burning in her eyes. There was that familiar rage. “You don’t know a single thing about me or Borginia or especially my father, Maya Fey,” she snapped, squeezing her whip. At least she wasn’t, you know, whipping it. “You have no idea what I have sacrificed for my kingdom—what the von Karma family has done. Don’t presume to understand.”

Maya sighed. “You’re right,” she said, begrudging as it was. “That was out of line—we’ve known each other less than twenty-four hours, and I don’t even really know if Borginia is a real place.”

Franziska bristled. “Of course it is—”

“It’s true,” Maya interrupted. “So I’m sorry for, um, that. I just kinda realized…” She lowered her head. “You remind me of myself a few years ago. Just a hell of a lot stronger.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re alone in a strange place God knows how far from your home.” Maya spotted a bench in the distance and gestured Franziska over. With arms crossed, Franziska followed her over, and they both sat in stilted silence before Maya spoke again. “And you’re handling it so much better than I did.”

Most of the anger had faded from Franziska’s eyes, but she was more restless now, curling and uncurling her fist where her arms were folded and tapping her foot. She flicked her wrist: Go on, the simple gesture said.

Maya rested her hands in her lap with another sigh. “When I moved here, I was sixteen. The only person I knew was Mia, and even then I hadn’t known her that well since I was little—when we were kids, our mom went missing, and Sis moved away around the time she was declared legally dead,” she explained, as quickly as she could—like ripping off a band-aid. “But I decided to move out here too. And since Kurain is a really small village, I got the same sort of culture shock you must be going through. Except probably a little less bad, since you’re from a whole other country.”

Franziska considered that. “It is much different here than in Borginia.”

That seemed like an understatement, so Maya just said, “Yeah. Anyway, I had a really tough time getting used to everything. It was only because of Mia and Nick, who she’d just taken on as a junior partner, that I managed to not totally break down. So I can only imagine how you’re feeling, but—” She glanced over.

Franziska was sitting still, now, expression hard as ever and arms tight against her chest. When Maya’s eyes met hers, her gaze softened the slightest bit, but she was looking away again within seconds.

“Well,” said Maya with a shrug, “you still look like that. All composed and mature and cool. And you’re even helping other people out instead of dwelling in everything—I mean, I’d definitely get it if you did and I think most other people would, too, because you’re definitely going through a lot now and probably just suppressing everything,” she added, “but… I don’t know. You’re really strong. It’s kinda impressive.”

“Oh,” said Franziska, barely above a whisper. Her eyes flickered across Maya’s face—Maya was starting to wonder if she had something stuck in her teeth, and she was about to ask when Franziska got to her feet. Her face half-turned away from Maya, she said, “Thank you, Maya Fey. For the apology, the story, and the compliments. You’re—I seem to find you rather impressive as well.”

Maya, moving to stand beside her, froze, hands pressed to the bench. Franziska was smiling, small and thin, and a soft pink blush filled her cheeks, even illuminating her ears. Under the bright sunlight, she almost seemed to glow.

Looking up at her, hearing her soft voice, watching her graceful movements, Maya’s heart pounded in her chest—it was a familiar but forgotten feeling, steady but a few beats too fast. A swarm of fluttering butterflies burst in her stomach.

Oh indeed.

Oh no, that was. This was bad. This was karma for mourning her lack of dates recently. This was—something. Whatever it was, Maya had only one repeating thought: Oh my God oh my God oh my God.

She realized too late that Franziska was still talking. “I believe I must also apologize to you for the way I’ve treated you and your cousin since last night,” she was saying, eyes on the ground. “You were—” She gritted her teeth. “You were very kind, taking me in when you had no idea whom I was nor if I was telling the truth.”

“Liars don’t usually make up such unbelievable stories—I’d know, I work with ‘em all the time.” Maya, still trying (and failing) to get her heart rate under control and the heat out of her face, stood and grabbed the armrest of the bench for support. “But thanks. I think you cleaning my entire apartment and making us breakfast was thanks enough, personally, but the verbal confirmation is nice.”

“That wasn’t an apology,” said Franziska, raising her eyebrows. “That was a chance for me to display several of my perfect skills and make the place I was being made to stay in at least somewhat presentable. A von Karma shouldn’t be caught dead in such accommodations, and your cousin should have someplace equally suitable to grow up in.”

Aaand she was back. Oh well, it was cute when it lasted. Though Maya couldn’t deny there was a certain appeal to this aloofness too. Nope, nope, not going there. “If you think my apartment’s bad, you should spend some more time at Fey & Wright.”

Franziska shuddered. “No. Anything but that foolish establishment filled with such a foolish amount of litter.”

“Hey, it’s only that bad when we’re on so many cases,” said Maya with a laugh. “Mia keeps things in check when she’s less busy, it’s just mostly Nick who’s a slob and Apollo and Athena who don’t want to challenge his authority. Yet.” She snorted. “They’ll learn.”

“Besides,” Franziska said like Maya hadn’t said anything, “if I am to return home in a reasonable amount of time, I won’t have need to return to that… office. If one could call it that.”

“I call it that,” said Maya, clinging to the one part of Franziska's words she could object to. “Because it is that.”

Franziska sniffed. “Continue being a fool, then, Maya Fey.”

They glanced at each other, faux-mad.

And then Maya started laughing, and soon Franziska was huffing out muted almost-laughs of her own. There was something so joyful and relieving in the air that Maya couldn’t help it, even with the sudden weight in her chest. Maybe it was the lighthearted end to a conversation that had gotten far more serious than Maya intended. Maybe it was the giddy energy of the past couple of hours. Maybe it was Franziska’s ridiculous, reality-breaking existence and her unexpected but now not unwanted presence in Maya’s life. Maybe it wasn’t anything but a contagious bubble in Maya’s throat.

Whatever it was, it was nice but came to a stop after a minute when Maya choked on her own spit. Franziska stopped as soon as she did, probably more so because they were starting to attract attention, which was sticking because of Franziska’s whole deal. They kept shooting each other looks out of the corners of their eyes and exchanging tiny smiles.

Then Maya caught a glimpse of a passerby’s watch and whirled to face a nearby clock to double-check. 11:58… shit, we’ll be late!

She ducked into an inaccurate curtsy and held her arm out to Franziska. “We need to go right now,” she said, serious tone half-ruined by her still trying not to laugh. “Would you mind a little assistance, milady?”

Franziska stared at her outstretched arm, something unidentifiable in her eyes. Then she shook her head and stepped back. “I can walk myself,” she said, hand on her whip, and Maya straightened, raising both hands.

“No problem, sorry,” she said quickly. “Let’s go find Mia, though, because I’m assuming you don’t want to take the subway again.”

“No.” Franziska gulped. “I would rather ride horseback across the Borginian Sea than travel via that foul beast again.” She rubbed her arms, and Maya bit back a laugh. “Why must we return so soon?”

“Oh, I guess you weren’t paying too much attention to Nick earlier.” Franziska’s nose wrinkled, but she nodded. “Uh, so we’ve gotta get to court in, like, half an hour, and it’s not that far from Fey & Wright but it is a hassle to get there most of the time, especially around this time of day. You can—hm.” Maya ran through the possibilities with a frown. “It’d probably be pretty boring to stay at Fey & Wright while the trial is going on, ‘cause they can drag on pretty long… oh! Do you want to come with us? You can watch a real, live trial.”

Franziska looked at her for a moment. Maya could barely keep herself from bouncing on her heels and flashing the cute look that had almost made Franziska drop a plate this morning.

“All right,” Franziska decided. “How bad could it be?”

Notes:

thanks so much for reading!! see you tuesday for chapter 5, which is another fun one 8-) (actually i'm looking forward to all the chapters after this one pretty much hehe) if you have time to spare, i as always really appreciate comments + kudos <33

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Chapter 5: The Not-A-Date Turnabout

Notes:

posting this one earlier than usual (and with no chapter title, bc i didn't like the one i had planned but can absolutely not think of anything else) bc i'm in a weird headspace rn and need time to work on other projects today. enjoy!

eta: there is now a chapter title! i am still not entirely happy with it so i may change it l8r but. y'know. better than nothing

Franziska realized only once they’d already entered the courthouse that she had no real idea what she was supposed to be watching.

A real, live trial, sure, but she only knew the basics from Miles’ offhanded explanations of trials in his birth kingdom and her own vague knowledge of Borginia’s court system. She knew things were different here, but not how much so or in what ways. She didn’t know the details of what was happening today, not even what sort of case Maya and Wright—whose eyes now had a respectably intense gleam rather than the lazy glaze they’d had earlier—were working on.

She interrupted Maya and Wright’s conversation to say as much.

Maya’s eyes widened. “Oh, jeez, I didn’t consider that—I just thought this would be the most comfortable and easiest way to schedule things. Damn, uh—” She glanced around. Franziska was about to tell her that she could figure this out on her own when Maya continued, “Let’s see… Sis went to have lunch with Lana after she dropped us off. I told you you helped them,” she added in Franzisa’s direction. “And Apollo won’t be here until later, so I guess you could wait out here in the lobby, but that sounds super boring, and our trials usually go on really late—”

“I can sit with Princess Franziska in the gallery,” Athena volunteered from behind them. Franziska, who had forgotten her presence entirely, and Maya jumped at the sound of her voice; Wright continued rifling through his files like nothing had happened. Athena was smiling when Franziska turned toward her. “And I can explain the things she doesn’t understand! I really like talking about this sort of thing.”

Franziska balked at the notion that she needed explaining to—no matter how true it was—and let alone by a student. Before she could protest, Maya smiled gratefully at Athena and nodded. “Thanks, Athena. You’re cool with that, right, Franz?”

“My name is—” Franziska sighed, mind washed blank at the smile Maya then turned on her, and looked Athena over. There was a certain fire about her. More compelling than Justice’s suspicion and loud voice, by any means. “That sounds fine, yes.”

“Great!” Maya looked like she was about to pat Franziska’s shoulder, but she and Wright were called into the courtroom before she could do anything. “Whoops. See you on the flipside!” She winked and scurried after Wright.

Franziska’s shoulder felt oddly cold. She ignored it as she and Athena, whose incessant chattering Franziska tuned out save for the odd context-less phrase or two, headed to the gallery. Franziska looked over the court, trying to pin down as much as she could without remembering much of the terminology or situation.

A flashy man stood at the desk opposite Maya and Wright. Franziska’s lip curled at the sound of his voice—he spoke in what seemed to be a butchered version of Borginian before continuing in lightly accented English. Not to mention his foolish hairstyle or even more foolish outfit. That necklace could take someone’s eye out were it to catch the lights above. Even the grandests of dukes wouldn’t wear such a piece; in another form, it may have been acceptable, perhaps a minimalist chain rather than the gaudy stylized letter it was carved into, but—

Athena’s bright-eyed ramblings brought Franziska out of her observations. “The man up there is the judge. I don’t actually know his name,” she said, clutching her cheeks. “I don’t know if anyone does, really? Everyone just calls him ‘Judge’ or ‘Your Honor.’ He just banged his gavel, which means court is in session, which means—”

“I am aware of the basic concept of a trial, Athena Cykes,” Franziska snapped. “I would appreciate you not explaining things to me as though I am a child. I am Franziska von Karma, Princess of Borginia, and being perfect in every way, I will catch on quickly.”

Athena faltered. She flicked her earring with a somber expression, the sparkles in her eyes duller but still present, and said, “Right, sorry. I used to hate people explaining things to me like that, too—I just get really excited talking about this, you know?”

Franziska, appeased for now, lowered her hackles. Athena’s excitement almost reminded her of a younger Miles.

“Out of curiosity,” Athena added, perhaps spotting her calmer posture, “how much do you know about this?”

“An alleged criminal stands trial,” said Franziska, leaning back and folding her arms. “Their actions are examined, evidence is presented, and in the end justice is done and they are declared to be innocent or guilty.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty accurate.” A shadow passed over Athena’s once-smiling face. “Except… sometimes people mess up, and justice isn’t done. That hasn’t happened in that courtroom in a while, though.”

Franziska frowned. “What do you mean? How could justice not be done? This is a system dedicated to ensuring it is, is it not?”

“Oh, well—okay, no, I can’t get into this right now, I’ll get way too amped.” Athena’s bouncing leg was already rattling the bench, so Franziska decided to take her at her word. Athena gestured toward the man opposing Maya and Wright. “See him? That’s the prosecuting attorney, Klavier Gavin.”

“His name is Piano?”

Athena blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God, his name does mean ‘piano,’ doesn’t it? You speak Deutsch?” she asked in Borginian, or at least what Franziska assumed was meant to pass for it. Her pronunciation was muddled and the word she used to refer to the language was unfamiliar, but Franziska understood the gist.

“I speak Borginian,” she corrected. “It is the native language of my kingdom.”

“Cool, cool. Here, it’s called German—or Deutsch, when you’re speaking it. Anyway, I was talking about Klavier, right?” Athena cleared her throat. Franziska did not care to hear about this man named Piano, but she sat placatingly still. “He’s the prosecutor, so he’s trying to prove Mr. Wright’s client—that’s Mr. Powers, he’s over there, he’s on trial for the murder of one of his co-stars—guilty. But Klavier’s only really focused on getting to the truth, so he’ll help us out if he realizes our client is innocent. He’s calling a witness now, and she’ll give a testimony trying to pin things on Mr. Powers. You’ll really get to see Mr. Wright shine during his cross-examination—”

Franziska glanced down, following Athena’s outstretched finger to where a woman had approached the stand. She was, in a word, elegant—the first well-dressed person Franziska had truly come across here, in fact.

But her grace extended far beyond her clothes. It was in the way she carried herself; the low, pleasant cadence of her voice. Franziska wouldn’t have thought her out of place among Borginian royalty. However, there was also a guardedness to her, something in the set of her shoulders and the tightness of her smile, the way she held the smoke-spewing stick in one hand to her lips every now and then. That stiffness and plasticity would have made her fit in more than anything.

Maya and Wright whispered back and forth as the gavel rang through the courtroom again. As the woman gave her testimony, Maya shot a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes scanned across the gallery before landing on Franziska—then she flashed a fleeting but confident smile before turning to face the court.

An odd feeling stirred in Franziska’s stomach. She wondered if she’d gotten sick off of the food she’d made this morning; it was from this kingdom, after all. She almost asked Athena, but something told her that was a foolish idea, and besides, Athena was still muttering under her breath about the woman’s testimony and how it “contradicted the voice of her heart,” or something.

Franziska sat back and held her breath.

*

The first thing Maya did when she stepped into the lobby was make a beeline for Franziska. Confetti clung to her hair and skin (the stuff was like glitter—it was pretty, but no one could be sure where it came from and it stuck to everything for days), but the adrenaline rush from their victory was enough to make her smile through it as she approached. Nick knew his clients were innocent, so by extension so did Maya, but it was always a damn good feeling to prove it in court.

“So?” she asked. “What’d you think of your first trial? We did awesome, right?”

Instead of answering, Franziska, expression unreadable, reached forward and plucked something off the corner of Maya’s mouth. Maya’s eyes widened as Franziska flicked the piece of purple confetti off her finger.

“It was interesting,” said Franziska, leaning back like nothing had happened while Maya tried to pick her jaw up off the floor. “Your defense was quite spirited. But I suppose I was expecting something more intense.” Something flickered through her expression—wistfulness, Maya wanted to say, but it was gone before she could pin it down.

Maya plastered on a nonchalant smile, trying to forget about Franziska’s fingers right beside her lips. You’ve known her for a day, Fey. “Hehe, yeah, that definitely wasn’t one of our more dramatic trials. Nick usually doesn’t have battles of wits with the perps, though, so that was fresh and cool.”

Franziska snorted and rested her hands on her hips. “Yes, I doubted the fool had the wits to use them as a weapon. I’m still not convinced. His victory was pure luck and foolishness on the prosecution’s part, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Most of our victories are luck, really,” said Maya, sheepish yet proud. “Yesterday Nick said he was ready to pronounce WP dead on the spot. Sis convinced WP he was joking, but—” She grimaced. “But as long as the prosecutors are eventually on our side and Nick’s bluffing pays off, to buy time if nothing else, we can pull miracles off.”

A look of irritation replaced Franziska’s smirk. “Yes, that prosecutor… he seemed like a pompous fool and his clothes were the gaudiest I’ve ever seen. And once a nobleman came up to me wearing this hideous sunflower-patterned vest and neon yellow and purple everywhere—he looked as though a unicorn had vomited on him.”

Maya blinked. “Holy shit.”

“It was awful,” Franziska assured her. “But not as awful as your opponent, who can’t even speak proper Borginian, let alone whatever you call it here.”

“Aw, Klavier’s not so bad,” said Maya with a laugh. “He can be a dick in court sometimes, but most prosecutors are, especially because Nick has a bad habit of provoking them.” She glanced across the room to where the man in question was talking with Mia, clapping him on the shoulder, and Lana, who was holding Mia’s other hand. “Oh, and Apollo’s had a crush on him for, like, forever and he’s pretty good at judging people. Even if I’ve had to watch him pine from afar for years.”

Franziska’s eyes snapped back from where she’d also been watching Mia and Lana. “Strange, Apollo Justice seemed perfectly direct. Why would he not speak up if he had feelings for someone? Seems like a waste of time and energy.”

“I’m not sure. I’d say it had something to do with not being able to face off against each other in court if they were dating, but this court system lets a lot of shit go by, so I don’t think they’d crack down too hard.” Maya shrugged. “He doesn’t want to ruin their relationship by risking that Klavier doesn’t like him back, I guess?”

“Hm. You people really are foolish when it comes to relationships.” Maya shrugged again—she had little to say in Apollo’s (or her) defense. Franziska crossed her arms, looking around. “So what happens now?”

“Now?”

“Now that the trial has ended,” she clarified.

“We-ell, we usually go out to eat every time we win a trial—even when we lose sometimes,” Maya added, “because if we lose it’s usually because our client really was guilty. When we win, we usually eat with the defendant, but WP said he wanted to sleep for, like, a week after this, so we told him we’d treat him another time. So, right now—”

She glanced at the clock above the door into the courtroom. Oh, shit, that trial had gone on much longer than she’d expected. Turned out battles of wits—plus significant pauses in between arguments—warped time.

“Uh-oh. Nick!” she yelled across the lobby, and before he could do anything more than look her way, she continued, “Parent pick-up time!”

The immediate panic that flew across Nick’s face would have been funny if it weren’t the same panic flowing through Maya’s entire body. “Oh, shit—”

*

When Mia had first gotten a minivan, Maya had mocked her into the next month, but she took back every mean thing she’d said now. It was plenty big enough for the entirety of Fey & Wright Law Offices, Franziska, and—they could only hope—two small-for-their-age girls. It could have fit Lana, too, had she not denied Mia’s offer and decided to come separately with Ema.

Upon getting in, Maya changed her mind again about the mean things she’d said about Mia’s minivan. Even with the amount of room, it was painfully cramped already. Apollo was in the back, making occasional comments across the seat to Nick and Athena, who—along with Maya, who was now sitting in between Athena and Franziska—would join him after they picked Pearl and Trucy up. Athena’s elbows were sharper than Maya had ever realized and she kept humming along to the Debussy Mia had on, which Maya thought was to torture her. Maya kept sneaking glances at Franziska. She kept tugging at her seatbelt and staring out the window with a gaze miles (or kingdoms) away.

“How’s being in a car?” Maya asked her once.

Franziska didn’t respond verbally, but she did give Maya a severe look that was an answer in and of itself. Maya didn’t say anything else the rest of the drive.

At least Mia drove like the cops were right on her bumper, so it wasn’t too long.

When they parked by the school, Maya almost clambered over Athena to get out before remembering that her seatbelt was still on and having to wait for Franziska to climb out instead. Franziska followed her up toward the steps, where Pearl and Trucy sat. Trucy was pulling a steady stream of handkerchiefs out of her pocket, but when she saw Nick, she ran over with a squeal of “Daddy!” and almost knocked him off his feet with a hug.

Pearl stood and brushed herself off. “Hi, Mystic Maya.”

“Sorry we’re late, Pearly, court ran later than we were expecting.” It was probably dumb to have any expectations when it came to trials; with Fey & Wright, things tended to get out of hand. “But hey, WP got a not guilty verdict, and even better, Franziska’s still here!” She stepped aside and did jazz hands.

Pearl’s eyes widened. “Hello, Your Highness,” she said with a quick bow. “I thought Mystic Maya was figuring out how to get you home?”

“Hello, Pearl Fey,” Franziska said with an equally quick curtsy. “Yes, I took that to be the plan as well.” She gave Maya a side glance, and her gaze softened. “But I trust your cousin will stop getting distracted and fulfill her promises eventually.”

“Wow, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me,” said Maya with a grin. Franziska didn’t justify it with a response aside from a scoff, so Maya gave up and looked back toward Pearl—she considered bending down to be on eye level for a second, then realized how condescending that was. “Oh, hey, Pearly, how does pizza for dinner sound?”

“For the third time this week?”

“Hey, it’s a Friday and we won our trial! Besides, they have things other than pizza, so you can have, like, fries and a salad or something, and I’ve got Lact-aid if you do want pizza.” Maya sounded more defensive than she meant to—to be fair, she’d never interacted with a kid who wouldn’t jump at the chance to have pizza three times in a week. She was objectively an adult and still would. Trucy, who had just been told the same thing by Nick judging from their high-five, seemed ecstatic. That reminded Maya—“Hey, Trucy, come meet someone!”

Trucy unstuck her hand from her father’s and came trotting over. “Hi,” she said, tilting her head at Franziska. “You’re the someone I’m meeting?”

“This is Princess Franziska von Karma.” Maya gestured to Franziska, who took the hint and curtsied again. “She’s a bit lost, so we’re helping her get home. …After we bring her out to pizza,” she added, rubbing the side of her neck, and Trucy looked like she was biting back a laugh, so Maya continued, “Franziska, this is Trucy Wright, Nick’s daughter.”

Trucy stuck her hand out. After a moment, Franziska shook it with a considering smile. “Nice to meet you, Auntie Franziska!”

“Trucy, honey,” Nick hissed, more of a stage whisper because of how far away he was standing, “don’t call people we barely know ‘Auntie.’ Especially not princesses.”

He gave Franziska a hopeful look, but whatever agreement he’d expected never came. Instead, Franziska pointed to him with a glare and her free hand resting on her whip. “The girl may call me whatever she wishes, Phoenix Wright. I see no need for status or how long we have been acquainted to be relevant.”

Maya tried and failed not to snicker at the look on Nick’s face. “Yessir,” he managed through a swallow.

Trucy, expression flat, stretched out to pat Nick on the arm and then turned her attention back to Franziska. “Want to see some of my magic tricks, Auntie Franziska?”

“No magic in the car, please, Trucy,” Mia called.

“Maybe at dinner,” said Nick with a pointed glance.

“Sure thing!” chirped Trucy. “Then can I sit by you in the car, Auntie Franziska?”

Franziska opened her mouth, but Trucy was already tugging her along by the wrist—Franziska shot a somewhat panicked look over her shoulder. Maya flashed her a hopefully encouraging grin. Pearl trailed after them with a quick nod in Nick’s direction.

“She’s going to absolutely destroy her,” Maya said once they’d gone, smiling serenely.

“Yep,” said Nick, not needing any elaboration, and then he seemed to notice how Mia looked ready to lay on the horn and half-jogged back over to the curb. Maya followed with the same peaceful look for a few steps—

And then she remembered she had to squeeze into the back with Apollo and Athena, and she sweared loud enough that she was glad no other kids were around.

*

As soon as they stepped into the restaurant, because it was a decent time on a Friday and a hole-in-the-wall place in LA, the smell of cheap pizza and B.O. (a bad combination) was unleashed. Maya didn’t care so long as she wasn’t in Mia’s car anymore.

That seemed to be the general sentiment. Both Pearl and Trucy shot off to a table Lana and Ema were already sitting at while the rest of the party followed at a more leisurely but still faster-than-average pace, Mia with a quick apology to the waitress for the sheer work it took to make them all fit and keep them all fed. Franziska, however, stayed as close to the door as possible without leaving. Maya hung back to watch the five stages of grief creep across her features.

Denial: She took a cautious step back with a mutter that Maya didn’t catch (and thought may have been in Borginian, so it wasn’t like she would have understood even if she had heard).

Anger: Her nostrils flared and she reached toward her whip. Before she could draw it, the waitress gave her a wary look—despite her eyebrows pressing together with further rage, Franziska crossed her arms instead.

Depression: Her lips pressed together in a thin line. Her crossed arms slackened, entire posture drooping. This lasted the least amount of time out of the distinct emotions, which was saying something because they were so rapid they were all over within a blink.

Bargaining: She reached numbly out toward Pearl’s disappearing back, beginning to mumble under her breath again. Maya edged closer to hear and wasn’t surprised to find that it was in a German soundalike she couldn’t understand.

Finally, acceptance: She relaxed, slow and purposeful, and turned to Maya with a blank look.

“Blink twice if you’d like me to mercy kill you,” Maya said.

Franziska blinked only once. “I would like no such thing.”

“Suit yourself.” Maya shrugged, covering a smile with her hand. “It’s really not that bad in here, y’know. Painfully fluorescent lights and the stench and occasional screaming kids nonwithstanding.”

“It’s notwithstanding,” said Franziska absently. “I shall have to take your word for it. One question, though, Maya Fey.”

“Shoot.”

“What… is pizza?”

One giddy, inaccurate, and incoherent explanation later, Maya and an even more bamboozled Franziska were sat at one end of the booth that wrapped around their tables (yes, plural). A full several platters of pizza already sat before the group. The others didn’t seem to be seated in any pattern, and Ema moved every few minutes to grab more mozzarella sticks (she offered a “hey” to Maya and a curious look to Franziska as she passed them but soon made her way back), so Maya figured it was fine and dug in.

She crammed half a piece of pizza into her mouth and, contrary to the disturbed look Franziska gave her, didn’t regret it in the slightest. As cheap as the pizza here was, it was damn good. One could only guess at why it was that cheap, but Maya didn’t really care. Maya ate the chunk in two bites and went back for the remaining half (minus the crust, which was painfully dry tonight). Franziska continued to stare.

“What?” said Maya, mouth full. She swallowed, licked some grease off of her fingers, and reached for another slice. “You’ve gotta eat it while it’s hot or else it’s all soggy and weird. Besides, pizza’s not my favorite in general—remind me to take you to Eldoon’s Noodles before you have to leave, that’s some good shit—but this place has my favorite pizza.”

At that, Franziska froze. Her eyes darted around the room, flickering over the table at large before settling on Maya and lingering. The look in them—startled, but open and soft—made Maya flush. For once in her life, she was grateful for the shitty lighting in the restaurant, which gave the impression that every night a staff member chose a single fixture to smash in with a baseball bat and replace with an orange lava lamp while blindfolded.

“Oh,” said Franziska, “this is a date.”

Okay, bad lighting or no, Maya was pretty sure her face was red enough to be noticeable from space now. “What?”

Franziska’s own face looked a little pink, but she powered on, gesturing to the restaurant. “We’re in a restaurant—I wouldn’t call it special, but it may well be to all of you.” She poked the pizza with a sneer. It wobbled under her nail. “And you’re talking about yourself. That is what you referred to as a date, yes, Maya Fey?”

“Ah, uh—” Maya pressed her hands together and at once snapped them back apart from the sheer amount of grease on them. She side-eyed her plate, prepared to shove another entire slice down her gullet to avoid this conversation (and also just to eat it, dammit, she was hungry), but after a stiff moment she sighed. “Not exactly. For one, people usually don’t bring all of their co-workers on dates. And—” she glanced at Pearl out of the corner of her eye, finding her mid-conversation with Trucy and Apollo “—not their little cousins, either.”

“I see.” Franziska’s haughtiness only seemed to multiply when she was embarrassed. “That’s—a shame,” she said, eyes avoiding Maya’s like it was an Olympic sport. “Pearl Fey is a very sweet girl.”

“She really is,” Maya agreed with a reflexive grin. This wasn’t a better topic per se, but a more comfortable one for sure. “Pretty shy, though—I’m actually really surprised she’s taken to you as well as she has.” Her smile dropped into a more serious look as her thoughts turned toward the self-deprecating. “Maybe I’m still getting to know her.”

Franziska frowned. “How long has she lived with you?”

“Just a few months. Her mom—me and Mia’s aunt—wasn’t, uh, able to take care of her anymore, and neither of Pearly’s sisters were available to take her in either, so…” Maya wrung her hands on the table. “Mia decided to take care of her at first—she basically raised me, and Lana literally raised her sister, so they were both used to working with kids.” She nodded toward Ema, who was now sitting with Pearl, Trucy, and Apollo. “And I didn’t see Lana interact with Pearly much, mostly because they weren’t living together yet, but Sis worked really well with her—it just got overwhelming after a while, especially when they moved in together, so I offered to take Pearly.

“I’ve never been great with kids,” she added, “not like Mia, at least, and I barely knew Pearly then. But I’ve been trying my best, and I think we’re starting to get used to each other.” She took a big bite of pizza—while not the whole slice—and smiled. “I got lucky, though, ‘cause she’s such a good kid.”

“Yes, indeed.” Franziska’s frown remained, but her focus on Maya seemed—intimate. “Children are—they’re difficult. They’ve never been my strong suit either.”

Maya snickered even as relief washed over her. “Wow, you mean you’re not actually perfect at everything?”

“Never speak of it again,” snapped Franziska, nostrils flaring. She looked away, tongue pressed to her cheek, and when she spoke again it was with hesitant, clipped words. “When I was young, my father brought a boy who is now like my little brother into our household to raise him and train him as a knight. He was enough older than me that we were uncomfortable around each other at first.”

“Older than you? But you said little brother.”

“I did not say younger brother, did I? It is—” Franziska waved a flippant hand toward the other end of the booth. “I believe our relationship is similar to that of yours with your Phoenix Wright.”

“Gross, he’s not mine.” Maya considered that, though, and shrugged. “But that sounds about right. I have to clean up after him all the time, so I might as well be his big sister. Anyway, you were saying about your brother—?”

“Right.” Franziska took a sip from the glass of water before her, then recoiled with her tongue out. “What is this?”

“California drinking water.”

“It is vile and disgusting and I would like to get rid of it now.” Franziska pushed the glass as far away from her as possible without actually pushing it off the table (Maya understood but took a drink of her own), then sat back and crossed her arms. “I’ve never known the exact circumstances behind my brother’s addition to the household, only that his father had died while Papa was away in another kingdom and Papa took it upon himself to take him in. Our relationship was troubled, at first, but we made things work over time. We’re quite close now—though I wouldn’t admit that to him,” she added with a grimace. “It would only go to his head.”

Maya tilted her head. It was a sweet story, but—“Is there a point to this, Your Highness?”

“Oh, for—” Franziska drew her whip. Maya jumped, but Franziska didn’t even strike the table or floor, only holding her whip at her side as she pointed at Maya, index finger almost jabbing Maya in the nose. “You are doing your best in a difficult situation, Maya Fey, and you are acting as a good cousin and guardian should. You are doing perfectly, even though—” A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Even though you aren’t your sister,” she said, voice softer than Maya had ever heard it.

“Oh.” Maya blinked, studying Franziska as her eyes widened and she panted slightly, looking like she hadn’t meant to say all of that. And then the words clicked, and an ear-to-ear beam crossed Maya’s burning face. “Thank you, Franziska. The, uh, ‘perfect’ part means a lot coming from you.”

Franziska coughed and stuck her whip back on her hip. “Well, of course. I only speak the truth.”

Maya took another sip of water before stealing a few more slices of pizza. Franziska’s face took on a more dignified air. She was definitely still judging Maya for her life choices (not that Maya could blame her, because Maya also judged Maya for her life choices sometimes), but there was now some respect in her gaze. She reached for a slice herself—

“Excuse me, miss,” said a rough voice from behind them.

A cocktail glass with an apple slice garnish slid out in front of Franziska. Maya glanced back to find a gaunt waiter with long dark hair standing behind them, a thin—and almost familiar, though she couldn’t place if she’d seen it before, let alone where—smile on his face. Franziska’s hand slipped back and curled aorund the glass as if on instinct.

“A perfect apple martini, just for you,” continued the man. “From a secret admirer.”

Franziska’s eyes flitted between the waiter and her drink. “Thank you. Who sent this over, may I ask?”

The waiter’s smile faltered slightly. Maya couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t wearing a name tag. “There would be no point in your secret admirer being secret if I told you, would there?”

“I suppose not.” Franziska studied the martini with increasingly narrow eyes before she sighed. “Well, it looks fine, and it would be foolish to refuse such a kind gift,” she said with a small shake of her head, lifting the glass.

Maya nudged her shoulder. “Be careful, it’s poisonous.”

Both Franziska and the waiter stared at her, the latter with more heat in his glare than Maya thought was necessary. Then again, she guessed he couldn’t exactly let people go around calling the drinks he made for a living poisonous. Maybe he just had no sense of humor.

Franziska, on the other hand, blinked after a moment. “Ah,” she said with a small smile, “that was a joke.”

Maya broke her already-weak serious face and laughed. “Yep. You’re getting to know me too well, Your Highness.” She gave the drink a wary look anyway. “Really, though, be careful, those can creep up on you.”

“I shall only have a sip or two, then.”

The waiter smiled, teeth seeming to glow in the low lighting. “One sip is all it takes.”

Franziska raised the glass to her lips, starting to tip it back—

A throat cleared behind them. “Taking gifts from strangers without a moment’s hesitation now, are we?” A sigh, and a slight smile audible when the voice spoke again. “What am I going to do with you?”

Franziska’s eyes widened.

The glass slipped from her hand, tumbling in slow motion toward the floor, where it shattered on the carpet with a crash.

The room fell silent. No one seemed to notice the glass except the waiter, whose face fell with horror. Face an iron mask, Franziska turned to face the other man who had joined them, and Maya was quick to look herself.

He didn’t have much in common with Franziska, at least at first glance, but there was something distinctly familiar about him. Something Borginian, Maya assumed. He carried himself in a similar way to Franziska—hand resting on the weapon at his hip (though a sheathed sword rather than a whip), shoulders tight, a thin smirk on his face—and his clothes, while more practical, were almost as fancy as Franziska’s wedding dress. He was built similarly, all angles, and had silver hair despite his relative youth, but that was where the similarities ended.

“Hello, Franziska,” the man said in a low voice, not carrying as thick a Germanic accent as Franziska’s but a similar one nonetheless.

“You,” Franziska snarled.

And then she lunged.

Notes:

the end of this chapter inspired by leverage, and specifically "the zanzibar marketplace job," b/c i've been rewatching this summer and had approx 2 thoughts abt a leverage au before coming to the realization edgeworth would be sterling and losing my mind over that concept too much to take it seriously. also, views expressed by franziska re klavier in no way represent the author's opinion of him -- i love him very much i just also lose my mind thinking about how much she would hate him.

anyway, thanks for reading! see you friday -- we're halfway to the finish line (at least on paper bc the epilogue will likely be pretty short)! as always, comments and kudos are very appreciated <3

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Chapter 6: Turnabout Reunited

Notes:

i went to the fair yesterday and between that & editing a 6k fic a couple of days ago i am far too exhausted to say much here. also, there's a lot going on so i'll let you get into it. enjoy!

The world had seemed to stand still for an instant, but now it was back in lightning-quick clarity as Franziska unslung her whip and swung.

People all around were clamoring about, gasping and yelling, and the people at Franziska’s own table were staring with unabashed curiosity, but Franziska’s attention had narrowed in on Miles as she struck out in his direction with a snarl of unbridled rage. To her shock—and his, from the dumbstruck look on his face—he managed to catch her whip in midair. His hand was shaking, but still, he set his jaw and looked back at her.

“Franziska—” he started.

“Shut up!” Franziska snapped her whip back but didn’t raise it again, only snapping it between her hands and fixing him with her best glare. Miles lowered his own hands, rubbing his palms. “You would dare show your face now?”

“I see you haven’t changed,” he gritted out. Were she a weaker and less currently angry person, Franziska may have burst out in joyful tears at the sound of actual Borginian, no matter what fool’s mouth it was from. “Then again, it’s only been two days. But I fail to see what attacking me of all people is going to help with.”

“Only two days, you say?” said Franziska, her own Borginian coming out almost garbled. She chalked it up to lack of use aside from muttered swears. “Bah! Two days, during which I have wandered helplessly around this disgusting city and had to rely on some foolish, impertinent stranger to show me around like a child. I have had a fine time here, but now that you’ve shown up you’re only reminding me how awful my situation truly is. Get out of my sight this instant, Miles Edgeworth.”

She waved her hand and turned to see if she could salvage the drink she’d so foolishly spilled. The waiter who’d delivered it had disappeared, and the martini was all over the ground, not a drop left even on the pieces of broken glass scattered across the floor.

Frustration growing, Franziska glanced over her shoulder to see if Miles had taken heed of her suggestion. He hadn’t.

“I’ve come to see to your safe return to Borginia, Franziska.”

Franziska laughed, sharp and bitter. “What, I climb back into the pit I had to crawl out of when I arrived and return to a world that despises me for leaving a foreign prince at the altar?” She took a pose that couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than a fighting stance, especially with her whip still at the ready. “Are you joking, Miles Edgeworth? I didn’t think you were the sort.”

“I’m not. This is the truth.” Miles tapped a finger on the hilt of the sheathed rapier at his side. “No one in Borginia despises you. In fact, it was one of your ladies-in-waiting, Baroness Andrews, that requested I seek you out—she and your fiancé both, for that matter.”

“…What about Papa? Did he—?”

“I’m afraid he still hasn’t been seen. Though I’m sure he’d be arranging a kingdom-wide search if he had been.” Despite his words, there was something troubled in Miles’ face. “Listen, Franziska, there’s something about your marriage contract that you should—”

Franziska’s patience cracked once more, as did her whip. “Mention that foolish marriage once more, I dare you!”

“Would you just calm down?!” Miles ducked a particularly haphazard swing. “You were the one who arranged the marriage, might I remind you yet again! And—and watch where you’re aiming that thing! Never should’ve given you that riding crop when you were…” His voice dissolved into incoherent mumbles, most of which Franziska ignored.

“No, I will not ‘just calm down’! I have earned this rage, Miles Edgeworth, and I deserve to let it out!” Franziska held herself back from swinging at him again—she didn’t actually want to hurt him, there were just no other acceptable targets at the moment. “I have spent nearly two days in a foolish, unfamiliar, terrifying world with fools I do not know or trust! All because Papa wasn’t around to walk me down an aisle I never wanted to walk down in the first place and I got tricked into falling down a well by some—some no one, and—” She swallowed back an acidic taste. Her grip on her whip tightened even as she lowered it to her side. “And now you just want me to return as though nothing has happened? I hate this world, Miles, but now I hate things back home even more!”

“Yes, yes, your feelings are all justified,” said Miles, looking calmer. “I would just prefer you not take them out on me. If you’ll remember, you were the one who insisted you wait for your father.”

Franziska gnashed her teeth. She was beginning to reconsider not lashing at him. “Of course I wanted Papa there. Is it so unreasonable,” she said, “to want one perfect moment in a day that could never have been perfect?”

“Would it truly have been perfect, Franziska? Or would it have reminded you of all the imperfections that were there to begin with?”

“I—!” Franziska's breath caught in her throat, heartbeat pained and erratic. She clutched at her shoulder. “What would you know about such things, foolish little brother? You could never hope to understand how I feel right now!”

He met her eyes with a grimace. “Couldn’t I?” he said quietly, the return to English catching Franziska off guard.

“I—I—you—” Franziska clenched her jaw, swallowing back an embarrassing lump in her throat, and raised her whip again—

But she didn’t get the chance to swing, for just then Mia Fey interrupted: “Okay, you two, enough.”

Franziska dropped her whip instinctively at the sound of anger in Mia’s voice—she’d heard irritation earlier, but nothing like this quiet fury. Mia stood behind them with her arms crossed and face unreadable. Behind her, the entire table had similar startled yet curious expressions. Maya had a hand over her mouth and was looking between Franziska and Miles with clear interest, hovering on concern.

“I don’t know who you—” Mia pointed at Miles “—are—”

“Sir Miles Edgeworth of Borginia,” he said, dropping into an extravagant bow. God, Franziska wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

“—or what your beef is with Franziska,” Mia continued as though he hadn’t spoken, “but given the mess we’ve left and people you’ve disturbed, I think it’s time for me to intervene.”

Miles straightened. “Right, yes,” he said evenly like he wasn’t avoiding Mia’s narrowed eyes to the best of his ability. “Pardon us. My sister has always been something of a wild mare.”

Franziska sputtered. “You—!”

“And she’ll have to be a wild mare elsewhere. We’re leaving.” As Franziska shot dark looks out of the corners of her eyes at Miles, who stolidly ignored her, Mia turned back to their table. “Lana, I’ll see you back at the apartment. Everyone else, we’re going back to Fey & Wright. I’ll drive you home after if you want, but first we’re dropping these two off to have it out. Is that clear?” She turned back to Franziska and Miles with a pointed look.

“Yes,” said Franziska through her teeth.

Miles tilted his chin up. “That sounds agreeable.”

Franziska suspected that if there was any further bickering, they’d be picked up by the scruffs of their necks and given no illusion of choice in the matter, so she bit her tongue and followed like a baby duckling in Mia’s wake.

But if she trod on Miles’ foot with her pointy-toed boot on the way to the car, well, that was no one’s concern.

*

Maya was stuck with the exorbitant tip, which was almost the entire bill for the pizzas and extras, because life was unfair and everyone else seemed more concerned with the Franziska drama. This made things doubly unfair, because Maya was also invested but had to show some working class solidarity.

So she lifted both Nick and Lana’s wallets. Ema caught her, but Ema was in general an adversary to the law despite being a detective for, like, a month, so she just mimed zipping her lips while attempting to wink with both eyes.

Lana’s helped much more than Nick’s, which contained a handful of ones, a single twenty, and two dusty pictures. (One was of him, Trucy, and Apollo in a photobooth. Trucy was sitting behind Apollo and Nick and giving them either bunny ears or, more likely, devil horns with her hands. The other was of Nick in maybe elementary school with two other kids, one who had to be Larry and another Maya didn’t recognize.) Not for the first time, Maya wondered how Nick was alive.

She left the tip, apologized a few more times to the distraught waiters (though she noted the man who’d brought Franziska a drink was absent), and followed the cloud of dust that had been her co-workers and friends to hop into the already-running minivan. She doubted Mia would actually leave without her, but she wasn’t taking any bets tonight.

Trucy had been booted to the back to make room for Franziska’s brother—Edgeworth, Maya reminded herself—so Maya squeezed in beside her. The entire car was silent, which, given the usual collective noise level of Fey & Wright, was unsettling. Maya sneaked glances at Edgeworth. He didn’t seem as weirded out by the car as Franziska had, but he did have his head pressed to the window with a scowl more like Franziska’s, and the deep bags under his eyes made Maya wonder what was up with these two.

Despite Mia offering to drive everyone else home, everyone seemed to have made up their mind to file into Fey & Wright after her and the siblings. Mia gestured them into the back office and shut the door. Immediately after a light switch clicked and light streamed out from beneath the door, another agitated exchange in rapidfire German broke out—Maya took a cautious step back, keeping her ear out for any whip cracks, but their voices seemed calmer after the drive here. Still pretty pissed, but that may have been because of the harsh language itself.

Athena opened her mouth. Mia made a shushing gesture, and no one needed the invitation to eavesdrop.

…With the slight downside of the conversation being in a foreign language only one person in the room spoke, and—from what Maya could gather—rustily at that. Athena made no move to translate. Maya, with only twentysomething years of Japanese and four of high school Spanish under her belt, didn’t bother trying to understand. Apollo, on the other hand, was tilting his head.

“I noticed this back in the restaurant, but it doesn’t sound like German,” he said. Maya raised an eyebrow, and he flushed. “Well—yeah, okay, it sounds like German, but not.”

“That’s confusing,” said Nick.

Apollo made a frustrated noise. “It’s just close enough to actual German that it could probably be understood by someone who speaks it—” Athena raised a hand “—but there’s a lot that doesn’t sound like German at all. The accent is weird, or something.”

Save for the distant bickering from the other room, Fey & Wright was dead silent for a moment. Maya and Nick exchanged looks. Trucy was the one to speak, tone one of utmost suspicion yet still innocent: “Polly, since when do you know so much about German?”

“Oh, I know this one! Klavier speaks German,” Athena said in a faux-dopey voice, then cut herself off with a gag. “Pretty badly, though, so I don’t know how much you could learn about it from him. Oh,” she added, eyes glinting, “or is this like that one time he was talking to you about music stuff and you said, ‘I’ve always wondered what that was called, that’s so interesting’ about the sound hole of a guitar? No one has ever wondered that or thought it was interesting, Apollo!”

Apollo made a sound that could best be described as a cross between a dying squirrel and a deflating hot air balloon and buried his head in his hands. The heat radiating off his ears hit even Maya, who backed up again. The office was hot enough already, thanks.

“Okay, we’re done making fun of Apollo’s crush,” said Nick, the implied for now making Maya snicker. “Athena, any chance you can get a read on their conversation?”

“Yeah,” Maya said, “can you translate what they’re saying?”

“Well, not while you guys are distracting me.” Athena gave a bright smile that still made everyone—except Mia and Pearl—look guiltily at the ground. “But probably not anyway. I talked a little with Her Highness in it earlier, and it’s not exactly German, just really close to it—she said it was called Borginian. Her brother’s actually sounds closer to real German.”

“She said he was originally from another kingdom,” said Maya, tapping her cheek. “Maybe Borginia is Fantasy Austria and his kingdom was Fantasy Germany?”

“We don’t even know if that’s a real story,” Mia interrupted. “Or that, if it is, Borginia isn’t a real country in Europe.” At almost everyone’s blank stare, she lifted her hands. “Look, if she was our client, I’d be more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she’s just some woman we found on the streets.”

“I haven’t found any mention of Borginia,” Apollo said, looking as irritated about it as Mia did. Athena nodded, but she looked more excited about the prospect.

Mia pursed her lips. “Maybe it’s the outdated name of an existing country, like Czechoslovakia or Burma,” she suggested. “Or it’s a new name that hasn’t been officially changed yet.”

Nick patted Mia’s shoulder. “Lost cause, Chief.”

“I know,” she said, sighing.

“Trust me, if there was a logical explanation, I would have figured it out by now,” said Apollo. “So it seems like Borginia really is in another universe or something.” He leaned against the wall with a deep frown, then blinked. “Hey, Mr. Wright? I would have assumed Maya would have been interested in their conversation—”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“—but not you. Why were you interested in their conversation?”

Another brief pause, Maya’s interruption going ignored. Nick had a much better poker face than Apollo, so his face was as blank as could be even with the room’s attention on him. “Just curious.”

“He isn’t lying,” Trucy said helpfully.

“No,” said Apollo, begrudging.

“He is hiding something, though,” said Pearl, biting her thumb. Everyone else turned to face her, Nick with a particularly offended look. Pearl blushed. “Well, you are, Mr. Nick, there’s a big lock over your heart! And Trucy and Mr. Justice would know if I lied about it…”

“I don’t think lies of omission work with their weird superpowers,” Nick protested. “Stop laughing over there, Maya!”

She did, but not because he’d told her to—because something had occurred to her.

She withdrew Nick’s wallet from her pocket—hey, she’d already meant to return it, she just hadn’t gotten the chance to slip it into his pocket like she had Lana’s into Mia’s pocket—and unfolded it. “Does it have something to do with this picture?” she asked, holding it up. She didn’t know the kid with Nick and Larry, but now that she was looking again, there was a certain resemblance—

“Oh!” Pearl clapped a hand over her mouth. “It broke!”

The door slamming open brought an abrupt end to their conversation. Maya shoved Nick’s wallet back in her pocket, eyes snapping to Franziska. She still looked irritated, holding her holstered whip and shooting glares over at Edgeworth—who was standing behind her with a neutral expression—every few seconds, but there was less tension in her shoulders. She did, though, look conflicted.

Her gaze flickered over the group scattered through the room. She folded her arms. “My little brother has found a way to return to Borginia, so I will be returning with him tomorrow night,” she announced, voice clipped. Maya’s heart stuttered. “I will stay one more day so I can attend the King and Queen’s Ball here. You and Lana Skye are attending, correct?” she added with a glance in Mia’s direction.

“Oh—yes, we were discussing it. I was going to invite the rest of you,” Mia said with a somewhat desperate look around the room. “The host is a young prosecutor I’d like Fey & Wright to become more acquainted with. I’ll pay for your tickets, even.” Her eyes lingered on Nick, who smiled sheepishly. “And who doesn’t love dancing?”

“Me,” Apollo, Nick, and Maya said in unison.

“What? Auntie Maya, c’mon,” said Trucy. “I expected Daddy and Polly to be sticks in the mud, but not you!”

“Yeah, Maya, c’mon!” said Athena, nudging Maya in the side. “Even Pearls wants to go, see?”

Pearl, indeed, was smiling. “It does sound fun,” she admitted.

Franziska cleared her throat, diverting the attention back to her before Maya could answer. “Would you mind me staying at yours for one more night, Maya Fey?” she said with a sheepish look.

Now that was an expression Maya hadn’t expected to see on her face. It was nice, though. “Of course not! Feel free,” she said, clasping her hands. “Does your brother need a place to stay, too? Because I can always share Pearly’s room—” she glanced over, grimacing, to make sure Pearl was nodding, which she was (and emphatically, at that) “—or bring out the air mattress that’s… probably somewhere in the closet.” She bit her tongue to keep from suggesting she and Franziska share instead. Cliche rom-com tropes that are kinda creepy in this situation, begone.

“Ah, I hadn’t considered Miles’ lodgings,” said Franziska, still looking pretty awkward, and she glanced in his direction. “Is that acceptable? Miss Fey’s apartment is—” She paused. “It is much better now that I have cleaned. Livable, even.”

“You cleaned the apartment of a woman you just met?” said Edgeworth, blinking.

“It’s always been livable!” Maya complained, though the always was, in fact, debatable. “You’re just to a huge fuck-off—sorry, Pearly and Trucy—castle!”

“Our castle is average-sized. I believe Khura’in has a much larger palace.” When Maya could only sputter at that, Franziska turned back to Edgeworth. “Well, Miles Edgeworth?”

“Franziska, I can’t just—”

“I can put him up for the night,” offered Nick, and again every head in the room swiveled toward him. Maya’s snapped over so fast the room started spinning. Nick cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ve got a perfectly good guest room. You don’t mind having a strange foreign man in our house for a night, do you, Truce?” He paused. “Okay, so that sounded bad, but—”

Trucy tapped her chin. “If he lets me borrow his rapier for a magic trick, I’m fine with it.”

“It isn’t a prop sword, so I really can’t advise that.” After a thirty-second staring contest over Franziska’s shoulder, in which Trucy employed a pout Maya definitely taught her, Edgeworth wavered. “…Without supervision.”

Trucy grinned. “I don’t mind at all, Daddy!”

“Great,” said Mia, pinching the bridge of her nose, “everything’s all worked out. I already regret offering to give you all rides home because there’s no way I’m getting back to my girlfriend at a reasonable time, but I did offer, so. Let’s go.”

“I can drive if you’re too tired, Chief—”

“You don’t have a driver’s license, Phoenix.”

Nick coughed. “No, but I do have this!”

“Don’t show us your attorney’s badge!” Maya said, slugging him in the arm. “Sis, I could drive—”

“No. I’m perfectly fine to drive.” Her nostrils flared, but Mia took a deep breath and straightened out her features, flashing a bright smile in Franziska and Edgeworth’s direction. “And I’ll even let you sit shotgun, Your Highness.”

Franziska muttered something in Borginian to Edgeworth, who sighed and said, “It’s the seat in front beside the driver.”

Nick’s squawks of protest went unnoticed as Franziska gave him a considering look, then smirked at Mia. “I accept these terms. To Maya Fey’s home we go.”

*

A well-needed shower later, Maya was rounding the corner with a bucket of ice cream in hand when she noticed a line of light beneath Pearl’s door and voices within. She stopped, glancing over her shoulder to the living room—the couch was empty, and Franziska was nowhere to be seen.

Maya pressed herself against the wall and peeked inside. Through the slit in the door, she could barely make out Franziska kneeling beside Pearl’s bed, Pearl tucked beneath her covers and listening with rapt attention.

“—and that was how I rescued the poor old grandmother wolf from her relentless tormenter Little Red Cap,” Franziska was saying, her grandiosity even more exaggerated than usual. “I was forced to give the axe back to the foolish hunter who gave it to her in the first place, which was a shame—I would have liked to learn how to use one—but I am happy with my weapon.” She patted her side.

Pearl giggled. “That isn’t the Red Riding Hood story I remember.”

“Hmph, well, Little Red Cap tells it differently.” Franziska folded her arms, though her serious expression soon gave way to a soft smile in Pearl’s direction. She made to stand, but Pearl tugged on her dress.

“Wait, Your Highness!”

Franziska turned back. She was facing away from Maya, so she couldn’t make out her expression, but the shock in Franziska’s posture was obvious. “Yes, Pearl Fey?”

“Will you—” Pearl fought back a yawn. “Will you tell me another story?”

“Normally I would say yes, but I doubt you’d be able to stay awake through it,” said Franziska, patting Pearl’s forehead. “And you would like to remember these, would you not?”

Pearl stared fiercely at her for a moment, but she couldn’t hold back her next yawn, stretching like a cat through it. She sighed and tugged the blankets up to her chin. “I guess.”

“Then I’m done with stories for tonight, but I will tell you more when I can.”

“…Will you?”

Franziska stiffened. “Pardon?”

“Well, you’re going back to your kingdom, right? Borginia?” Pearl’s voice was almost a whisper. She looked to the side with a nervous expression, still clutching her sheets with one hand but now chewing on the thumbnail of the other hand. “So I won’t see you again after tomorrow.”

“Ah. Well—” Franziska turned away from Pearl, facing the door instead—Maya crept a little further out of sight, holding her probably melting ice cream against her pounding heart. She reached up to touch a teal gem hanging from her necklace. Maya hadn’t noticed it before, but she didn’t know how—it seemed to pulse and glow under Franziska’s touch. “If Miles has truly found a way home, then I can always return. And if the fools in my kingdom mind—I am its princess and one day shall be its queen. I should have a say.” She turned away then, but Maya caught a smile cross her face.

Maya’s face burst out in flame. She covered her mouth with a hand to muffle the embarrassing squeak she was sure she made.

Pearl sat up, studying Franziska with a growing smile of her own. It soon fell again, and she said, “Will I see you tomorrow, though? Will you be around in the morning?”

“I plan on it, yes. I’m not sure what I’ll do before the ball,” admitted Franziska. “But even if I find something to do outside of your apartment, I will make sure to say goodbye to you and your cousins. And even the fools your cousins work with.”

“Oh!” Pearl’s smile returned, and her eyes fluttered shut as she relaxed into her pillows. “Thank you for talking to me, Your Highness, and goodnight. I won’t say goodbye yet, because I still have tomorrow.”

Franziska stood. “Yes, you will always have tomorrow, Pearl Fey,” she said, looking down with a now-obvious beam. “Goodnight, then.”

She turned off the bedside lamp with a click and exited the room without another word. Maya couldn’t move fast enough, too busy smiling dazedly over the adorable scene, so she stood frozen beside the door as Franziska slipped out and slid it shut behind her. Franziska turned and jumped, mouth open in what was sure to be a scream—

“Shh!” Maya hissed, and she jerked her head toward Pearl’s closed door. Pearl wouldn’t be asleep yet, but she already had some sleeping troubles as far as Maya could tell, so she didn’t want to keep her awake any longer.

Franziska nodded, biting her cheek. They hovered there awkwardly for another moment, the darkness too much to pin down each other’s expressions, until Maya gestured toward the living room with her spoon.

She and Franziska walked out there in an awkward single-file line that there was no practical use for given the size of Maya’s hallway and the fact that there were only two of them. Maya flopped onto the couch with a sigh, letting herself spread out before remembering Franziska also had to sit there. She scooted over toward one side and tucked her legs up onto the couch, crossing them and setting her ice cream down in her lap. Franziska was still standing above with her arms folded, so Maya patted the space beside her. As gingerly as possible, Franziska sat.

“That was sweet, you telling Pearly stories like that.” Maya popped open her ice cream and dug in, seeing no reason not to. It was already starting to melt, anyway. “Even if they were total BS.”

“I only tell the truth, Maya Fey,” said Franziska with a scoff. “Especially to children. They deserve honesty as much as anyone else—even more so, I would say. They certainly give it.”

Maya blinked at the bitter undertone in her voice, seeming more personal than her general demeanor. Then again, she felt the same way. “Oh, for sure. But not everyone thinks that, so… still cool.”

“Besides,” Franziska added like she hadn’t said anything, “it was all I could do to repay you for all you’ve done for me.” She tapped the back of the couch. “You’ve been very kind to me even when I haven’t returned the favor. I have already thanked you, but I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.”

“O-Oh, yeah, of course, no prob.” Maya shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “I just did what anyone else would have.”

“From what I’ve gathered of your kingdom—” Maya could tell she was omitting at least five foolishs and variations thereof and appreciated it “—assisting me isn’t what anyone would do. You are a—” Franziska rubbed her arm. “You’re a very special person, Maya Fey. Thank you for allowing me to stay here—and, above all else, helping me to the best of your ability.”

“This isn’t the best place to stay, so I don’t know if you should thank me for that.”

“Your home is fine, Maya Fey.” Franziska shot her a half-hearted glare. “It simply needed a bit more care, but given how busy you and I presume Pearl Fey are, that is understandable.” Her glare gained a little more heat. “Shut up and take the compliment, why don’t you? I don’t give them out very often.”

Maya grinned. “You sure know how to make a gal feel special.”

“Like I said, you are special,” said Franziska, voice soft and low.

Was she leaning closer, or was Maya having a sudden episode of vertigo? …Or was Maya the one leaning closer? She crammed some more ice cream in her mouth—or at least tried, because her hand was shaking slightly, making her miss her mouth on the first go—to keep herself from leaning any further in.

But either the world continued spinning, or Franziska continued leaning closer without even seeming to realize it. Against her own will, Maya found herself scooting over.

The room was still. In the distance, cars were moving and fights were being had and all sorts of activity was going on, but here, the gentle click of Maya’s spoon against the bowl and quiet, closed-mouth chewing with every cautious bite she took. It was the most peaceful moment Maya had had in ages.

Maya kept scooting closer until her thigh pressed against Franziska’s. Franziska didn’t protest—in fact, she leaned back with a content smile, eyes fluttering shut. Despite the heat rising in the room and Maya’s own body, her arm was cold to the touch when Maya’s brushed against it with the next spoonful she took.

Maya thought at first she’d fallen asleep, given how gentle her breathing was, but when her elbow bumped Franziska’s, Franziska elbowed her back with a brief glare beneath heavy eyelids, complete with slow blinks. Maya only flushed further at the glance.

“You’re like a cat,” she muttered.

She stopped with her spoon buried in her third-eaten ice cream and considered that. Franziska’s eyes were closed again, pale eyelashes flush against equally pale cheeks, but slow blinks were a show of affection, weren’t they? Huh. Cute.

While Maya had the habit of saying things before thinking about them, sometimes that passed to actions too—and so before she could so much as think twice, let alone talk herself out of it, she had set her ice cream aside and reached up to hold Franziska’s cheek. Again, Franziska didn’t protest. She even seemed to smile. The couch shifted as Maya leaned closer, closer, closer—

Despite the coolness of Franziska’s arm, her cheek was warm under Maya’s hand, maybe because of how cold Maya’s own skin had to be where it had been holding the ice cream. Maybe it was also because of the bright pink Maya thought she’d been imagining spreading across Franziska’s cheeks.

—closer, closer, closer—

Maya shifted her hand up and tucked a lock of Franziska’s hair behind her ear where it had fallen loose. She wasn’t expecting how soft her hair would be, but it was sleek and light beneath Maya’s fingers. She cupped the edge of Franziska’s ear as she brought her hand back around, but she let it fall down to Franziska’s smooth jaw instead of her delicate cheekbone this time. A muscle somewhere in that jaw twitched.

—closer, closer, closer—

It was strange, really, how Maya had only known Franziska for, what, a day? She didn’t know what time it is and wasn’t going to pull away to find out, nor did she remember what time it had been last night when she’d found Franziska and brought her up. But she felt close to her, and not just because of the current physical proximity. They’d had more in-depth and emotional conversations than Maya could remember having with some of her closest friends and dates in the past. This was still a stupid decision, definitely, but—

—closer, closer, closer—

Maya couldn’t imagine the thick scent of chocolate ice cream washing across Franziska’s face was pleasant, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Franziska’s own breath was warm and smelled faintly of pizza. Maya took a deep breath, then shut her eyes and leaned in—

—closer, closer, closer—

Wait, Maya thought, just as her nose bumped against Franziska’s. Her eyes snapped open. What am I doing? I can’t—I won’t—I shouldn’t do this, definitely not now, I can’t believe I—

Maya jolted back. Her mind was almost blank, but she thumbed quickly across the skin right beneath Franziska’s eye, taking the first reasonable excuse she could come up with and seizing it. She leaned back, flicking something nonexistent off her thumb even though Franziska’s eyes were still closed. She didn’t appear to have noticed Maya moving.

“Sorry!” Maya squeaked, and Franziska’s eyebrows furrowed. “You—you had an eyelash there, hehe, I was just—um—getting it and, you know, making a wish. Um. Goodnight!”

She grabbed her ice cream, pressing it tight against her chest as her heart pounded hard enough that she was sure Franziska had to be able to hear it. Franziska’s eyes finally opened to stare up at her, lips parted, but Maya was already running back to her room and near-slamming the door.

Once inside, she collapsed, back pressed tight against the door as she heaved out heavy breaths. “Shit,” she said under her breath. “Shit, shit, shit, fuck! What were you thinking, Maya, you—?!” She cut herself off with a frustrated sound somewhere deep in her throat and buried her head in her cold hands.

Franziska’s face flashed across her mind—wide eyes, flushed face, mouth in a thin and almost sad line.

Maya winced. She evened out her breathing as much as she could—shorter, sharper inhales with steadier, slower inhales, with the odd hiccup that she tried her best to suppress in between.

You’ve known her for two days and she not only lives in another country or something, she’s the goddamn crown princess of a kingdom in a whole other dimension, Maya told herself. And when she gets back, she’s probably going to go through with getting married to a prince even though she doesn’t want to.

This is for the best, she thought. You’re doing the right thing.

That didn’t mean it didn’t really, truly, deeply suck, though.

At least she already had ice cream to drown her feelings in.

Notes:

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thanks so much for reading; i'll see you on tuesday for chapter 7! we're getting into the endgame now, folks -- please keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle etc etc. as always, comments & kudos make my day!

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Chapter 7: The Retail Therapy Turnabout

Notes:

a later chapter than usual for once but i... literally just realized it was tuesday. it's been a weird couple of weeks! anyway, enjoy!

Franziska didn’t wake to silence.

She woke to scuffling sounds nearby, which she realized after a few moments of rapidly blinking at the ceiling were coming from the kitchen. Between it and the light not blocked by the patchy curtains, there was no point in feigning sleep or trying to get any more of it, so she sat up on the couch. She couldn’t make out much, vision still hazy, but she did clear her throat.

“Good morning,” she called, half-questioning.

In the kitchen, a blurry figure froze. Then Maya turned in her seat to face Franziska, a charred piece of bread hanging out of her mouth.

She swallowed, then said, “Um. Good morning.” She was dressed, clean dress a far cry from the rumpled clothes she’d been wearing yesterday, and her hair was up in a surprisingly practical ponytail nothing like her typical style. “I have to leave for work in a few minutes, so I’m getting breakfast in while I can,” she said, gesturing at her toast. “Except I rushed it so all I get is burnt toast.”

Franziska frowned. “Phoenix Wright seems like he would be all right with you showing up late, and I expect your sister would feel the same way. Why the rush?”

“Oh, I’m not going to Fey & Wright.” Maya seemed to avoid meeting Franziska’s eyes, but given the distance and the fact that she was still eating, Franziska couldn’t tell for sure. “I’m going to my other job. Or, uh, my current other job. I’m a waitress.”

“A waitress?”

“Yeah, I wait on people in restaurants—you know, taking orders, bringing orders, always smiling and being nice or else people won’t leave five-star reviews and I’ll get the sack.” A beat. Franziska processed that with a deepening frown. Maya sighed into her toast. “It sucks, but I’m taking care of both myself and Pearly, so I needed a little more cash. And I didn’t think I could swing working a phone sex hotline.”

“…A what?”

Maya flushed and popped the rest of her toast—almost an entire slice of bread—into her mouth. “I’ll let you figure that one out. Pearly can sleep in pretty late on weekends,” she said, still through a full mouth, as she got up and started gathering her belongings, “so when she wakes up, just let her know I’ll be working at Trés Bien most of today, okay? And she can fend for herself, she can have Pop-Tarts or something—no time to explain that one either, ‘cause I’m late, shit!” This last bit may have been because of her rant or because she stubbed her toe on the door as she was leaving.

Silence for a second. Franziska stared at the place at the table where Maya had been seconds before.

Maya’s head popped back into the door. “Should probably lock this. Anyway, see you tonight, I guess!”

The door shut behind her, the click signifying she’d locked it this time, and once her footsteps faded, the apartment was silent, but Franziska didn’t bask in it. Instead, she pulled her knees up to her chest and lowered her head into them.

She wasn’t wallowing, she told the criticizing voice at the back of her head. She was taking advantage of being alone with her thoughts for the first time in the past two days. Sure, yesterday she’d gotten alone time in the morning, but that had been for all of ten minutes before she’d gotten the brilliant idea to summon a significant amount of Los Angeles’ feral animal population. In Franziska’s opinion, she deserved a few minutes to stew.

She had made a thorough fool of herself last night. Making a public spectacle of a childish feud with her brother, telling bedtime stories to a child who seemed too attached to her already, allowing Maya Fey to get as close as she had in hopes of having a move made on her because she thought there could be something there.

But from Maya’s horror-stricken expression and the poor excuse she’d made of a stray eyelash, the tension hadn’t been as mutual as Franziska had wanted to believe. And even if it had—

She bit her lip, trying to convince herself it wasn’t worth it. She didn’t know Maya Fey, not really. Any feelings she might have had were soon to pass. Any feelings were like the weather—no matter what fairy tales would attempt to teach her, attraction was no different. True love and love at first sight were ideals Franziska had given up on for herself long ago. She didn’t love Maya Fey; it was possible that she could in the future, were she to spend more time with her, but now, she was only interested. Interest meant nothing in the long run.

More pressingly, she was getting married upon her return to Borginia, which would—aside from visits, rarer than she’d implied to Pearl—be permanent. Her and Sahdmadhi’s union was even more inevitable now—Borginia-Khura’in relations had undoubtedly been strained by Franziska’s disappearance, no matter what Miles had assured her. While Maya’s words had struck a chord within her, it was still her responsibility. She couldn’t disappoint her father and country now.

This was all a logical argument. And yet here she still was, ready to throw everything away for a woman she barely knew.

“You idiot,” she mumbled in Borginian. She straightened, rubbing her eyes, and set her shoulders. “I am Franziska von Karma,” she proclaimed to the empty room. “Princess Franziska von Karma of the royal house of von Karma. I am perfect in every way. I will not lose my head over some foolish girl.”

Funny, how empty it sounded even to her. She leaned back again, forcing her mind to go blank as she focused on breathing, slow and deep—

Down the hall, a door opened, and she snapped out of it and stood with a flourish that went unnoticed by a bleary-eyed Pearl.

“Good morning, Pearl Fey,” Franziska greeted. “Your cousin left for—Trés Bien, she said. She said she would be out for most of today.” She was careful to keep any emotion, good or bad, out of her voice—only the facts would do from now on.

Pearl seemed half-asleep enough that she wouldn’t pick up on it either way. “I see. Would you—” She hesitated, looking down shyly.

“What is it?”

“Would you mind cooking breakfast again?” As soon as she said it, Pearl looked shocked at her own boldness and covered her mouth. “Ah, I’m sorry, Your Highness! It’s just—your cooking was really lovely, and no offense to Mystic Maya, but I’ve been getting tired of the breakfast foods she likes.” She lowered her head, then flashed Franziska a smile. “It doesn’t even just have to be with us—Mystic Maya likes eating leftovers, so you can leave some extra for her.”

“I—am not sure that’s a good idea,” Franziska said, torn. At the way Pearl’s face dropped into a resigned frown and she nodded, subdued and clearly disappointed, she hesitated. “But I suppose I will make an exception just this once.”

Pearl beamed. “Thank you, Your Highness!”

Despite her misgivings about the girl being too attached to her, Franziska felt a knot somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She strode over the kitchen to focus on something else. “It’s the least I can do.”

She made another simple meal: a stack of plain pancakes and more scrambled eggs, plus a few slices of bacon not for either herself (she wasn’t all that hungry) or Pearl (she hadn’t eaten much of it yesterday) but to leave in the refrigerator for Maya. Franziska also wrote a short note to go along with it: Something to remember me by. Signed, Her Highness Princess Franziska von Karma of Borginia.

Pearl watched her cook and then ate in silence. Franziska followed her lead and didn’t say a word, much as she disliked being thrust into her thoughts again—the food gave her something to focus on, at least. Only when she’d set the empty dishes in the sink and found boxes to leave the leftovers in did Pearl speak up.

“Hey, Your Highness?”

Franziska paused, in the middle of sitting back down. “You may call me Franziska,” she said, grateful no one else was present.

Pearl stared at her for a moment. Then, smiling, she continued, “Okay. Hey, Princess Franziska?”

Well, Franziska supposed she couldn’t expect too much—especially given how different Pearl was from her guardian, who’d been calling Franziska by her given name almost from the start. Franziska shook her head at the reminder. She’d rather someone this much her junior be too formal rather than too lax, by any means. “Yes, Pearl Fey?”

“You’re still going to the ball tonight, right? You said you would last night,” said Pearl, words somewhat muffled by her thumbnail, “but I didn’t know if you changed your mind. Since Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick and everybody else is going—oh, and is your brother going too? Mister, um…” She gave Franziska an imploring look.

“Miles Edgeworth, I presume. And it’s Sir, not Mister; he’s a knight, if a poor excuse for one.” Franziska’s eye twitched. “Do me a favor and do not mention him around me again. I may do or say something I don’t wish for you to witness—something rather unbecoming of a perfect, noble princess such as myself.”

Pearl flushed. “Of course, Princess Franziska,” she said quickly. “But you’re still going, yes?”

“Yes. That was the last thing I wished to accomplish in your world before I will be forcibly returned to my own,” said Franziska, grim. “Are you not attending yourself, Pearl Fey? I was under the impression that it was an all-ages function.”

Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure how old precisely Pearl was, only that she was younger than Maya and attended school. She talked and acted as though she was about ten years older than she looked, though (something very familiar to Franziska herself), making it even more difficult to tell her age, and Franziska didn’t want to ask.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet.” Pearl twisted her hands together in her lap. “Mystic Maya said I was free to, and Trucy said she might go because she likes the Gavinners and would like to see them perform, but—” She lowered her head and mumbled something Franziska couldn’t make out.

“What was that, Pearl Fey?”

Despite how soft Franziska had tried to make her voice, Pearl still jumped. “I don’t have any good clothes for it,” she blurted.

Franziska frowned. “Your current clothes seem just fine,” she said, gesturing to the outfit Pearl had changed into while she was cooking. “And I’m sure you have plenty of others, do you not?”

“Yes, but this is a ball!” Pearl’s expression became much fiercer, eyebrows furrowing as she leaned forward. Franziska approved. “It’ll be all fancy and—and ball-y, and I know Trucy will have an adorable outfit and I don’t want her to not like me anymore if I don’t have a good outfit too. I don’t have anything suitable for a ball, so…” She sighed, wilting. “I suppose I should just stay home. Mystic Maya will tell me all about it, anyway.”

This, Franziska decided, would not do.

She scooted her chair toward Pearl, though she didn’t draw her whip in fear of being too intimidating, and laid both hands on her shoulders. Pearl straightened.

“Pearl Fey!” she commanded, and Pearl nodded jerkily. “First things first, do you honestly believe your close friend would dismiss you simply for not having an appropriate dress for such a function?”

Pearl averted her gaze but sighed again. “No, Trucy isn’t like that. She’s very kind, Princess Franziska—but it’s not just her I’m worried about, it’s everyone else.”

“Then you will show everyone else at this ball up, I guarantee it—you will not let something like this stop you from having a grand time. Is there any way you could procure the perfect outfit before tonight?” She paused. “Outfits for both of us?” she amended. “I don’t suppose Maya Fey will approve of me destroying any more of her belongings for the sake of fashion.” A shame, too; the curtain that hung around the bathtub seemed promising.

The shine returned to Pearl’s wide eyes, bit by bit. She sat back, lips pressed together, and then she raised both fists, that spirited look back in full force. “I do,” she said, slow yet determined. “Mystic Maya has this secret credit card hidden in the sock drawer in the dresser in her room. It’s really obviously hidden, so I probably wouldn’t even need to tell you for you to find it, but she told me I could use it for emergencies only. We could shop with it.”

“What is this if not an emergency?” Franziska clapped Pearl’s shoulders, then stood, planting her hands on her hips. She considered using her whip for effect but decided against it, instead just shouting, “Onwards, my disciple—to the credit card!”

*

While Franziska was as overwhelmed by Los Angeles as she had been when she’d first arrived, she now had someone to explore it with—someone at least tangentially more familiar with it than herself to boot. There didn’t seem to be as many people around, though whether that was imagined or due to the time or location Franziska couldn’t tell. The buildings seemed smaller with someone at her side. (Given her and Pearl’s respective heights, they likely should have seemed even larger, but Franziska was a wishful thinker when it came to viewing people and sometimes objects around her as ant-like in size.)

She glanced down to her guide with a thin smile, which faltered when she found Pearl holding the card to her chest with a look of pure nerves. Franziska nudged her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t petrified. She doubted there were gorgons here, but one could never be sure.

Pearl didn’t fall over and shatter into a million stone pieces, and her eyes flickered up to Franziska, so Franziska supposed it was fine. “Where shall we start our journey, Pearl Fey?”

“Um—” Pearl picked a pink ball of fuzz—she’d said Maya’s secret credit card was hidden between her “Pink Princess” and “Nickel Samurai” socks—off the card and looked around. Judging from the even more terrified look on her face, she didn’t have the same view of the city as Franziska did. Franziska would need to teach this girl a thing or two about confidence. “I think if we—hm—wait one moment, Princess Franziska. I’ll figure things out.”

Before Franziska could ask what she meant, her head was half-buried in her bag, and she stuck the card inside in favor of withdrawing a metallic box like one Franziska had seen Mia use. A screen lit up. Franziska peered over Pearl’s shoulder while Pearl tapped at the device, eyes reflecting the pale blue glow.

Intrigued as she was, Franziska remembered they were in the middle of a path and stepped back, tugging Pearl with her. A woman walking her dog past gave her a grateful look. Pearl, absorbed in the device she was holding, didn’t seem to notice.

Then she looked up. “How do you feel about getting your hair done first, Princess Franziska?”

She had been neglecting her hair the past couple of days. To be fair, there had been much more pertinent things on her mind than brushing it. “That sounds fine. Would you like me to summon some squirrels to perform some braids? They would not have much like with mine,” she said, patting the messy bob she’d impulsively shorn it into around a month ago, tired of all the wedding hairstyles being discussed, “but I imagine they would have fun with yours.” She eyed the looping style of Pearl’s hair.

Pearl blinked. “That sounds incredible,” she breathed, and then shook her head. “Some other time, please, Pincess Franziska, but for now I was thinking we could go to a salon. I’ve never been in one before.”

The nervous excitement in her voice made Franziska smile. “All right. We shall go to one of these ‘salons,’ then,” she said, and they continued walking, Pearl with a slight skip in her step as she kept prodding her device. “I don’t believe we have salons where I’m from. What are they like?”

“I don’t know, but I would love to find out.”

*

The answer, at least for Franziska, was underwhelming.

Her opinion, however, was colored from the moment they walked in and made a so-called walk-in appointment and she was asked to leave her whip at the front desk for her stay.

“Sorry,” Pearl whispered. “I assumed most people would be fine with the weapon because this is the United States so all sorts of people carry, well, all sorts of things. You could wait back here for me, I guess, but that doesn’t sound very fun.”

“I can give up my whip for an hour,” said Franziska. “It is fine.”

It was not, in fact, fine, but she would tolerate it for Pearl Fey. She slammed her fist against the counter, making the mousy receptionist jump—it didn’t seem to appease them when Franziska opened her fist to reveal the whip inside. If anything, it made them more nervous.

“You!” Franziska barked, then lowered her voice when she noticed the negative attention they were attracting. “Guard this with your life. It is my most prized possession. You will see consequences beyond what you could possibly imagine if you mishandle my precious whip in any way, understand?!”

“Y-Y-Yes, ma’am!”

“Good.” Franziska folded her arms and glanced at a wide-eyed Pearl. “Well, shall we?”

Franziska didn’t end up having much done to her hair, only a wash and the addition of a braided headband and bun that compressed most of her already short hair, so perhaps it would’ve been more effective to wait. But she did get to spend time with Pearl, so in her opinion, it was worth the trouble. Pearl herself decided to get a trim and what she called French braids.

Once their hair had been washed, they waited in a distant corner, towels wrapped around their heads in foolish cone-like shapes that made Franziska shrink further into herself. Any other time, she’d be preening in a place like this. There were so many classy people to appeal to and create working relationships with. Given her head looked like one of those orange cones planted all over the streets here, though, she didn’t want anyone but Pearl—who was idly chattering about school and her cousins’ work at Fey & Wright—to so much as glance their way. It was a bitter shame.

She took every opportunity she got to scope out other people, though. Franziska frowned when she spotted a rather odd scene. “What is that woman having done?”

Pearl followed where Franziska was pointing. “Oh! She’s getting her hair dyed. Her hair must be a dark color naturally, so the stylist is bleaching it first to get the color to show up.”

While Pearl’s confusion had soon ebbed, Franziska’s only doubled. “Her hair is dying?” she repeated.

“Oh, not dye like die. Dye like—” Pearl hesitated. “D-y-e? I think that’s right, I mess up words that sound the same often,” she admitted, biting her nail. “Hair dye is, um, artificial color that can be applied to your hair. I don’t know much about the process because I’ve never dyed mine, but it can change anyone’s hair color to pretty much anything! People dye all of their hair most of the time, like that woman, but you can get highlights and streaks and things as well.”

Franziska considered this. “So if someone had gray hair,” she said, slow, “they could dye it back to a natural shade of dark brown or black?”

“Yes,” said Pearl. “That wouldn’t be super common around here unless it was someone with graying hair touching up their roots, but it’s definitely an option.”

“Hmm. And must it be applied at salons like this?”

“No, not at all. You can purchase home kits and tubes and stuff like that on your own—there’s all kinds of brands and tools.” Pearl twiddled her thumbs, blushing. “I only know most of this because Trucy was talking about getting blue streaks the other day. She’d look really cool.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Franziska, because her mind was far from Trucy Wright. She thought she had an idea for Miles’ next birthday present.

“Hey, Princess Franziska, why did your smile just get so scary?!”

*

Upon leaving the salon, hair fresh and new on both sides—Franziska rather liked Pearl’s intricate double braids, though she liked her own new style too much to wish for it herself—they returned to their aimless wandering. Pearl decided to steer them toward a downtown area she said was full of more fashion options. If nothing else, she told Franziska, they could window-shop.

Most of the next twenty-odd minutes were filled with Pearl explaining what window-shopping was, but Pearl stopped outside of a storefront that briefly made Franziska shield her eyes with its glittering sign. She didn’t think she’d had that much glitter on her wedding dress, even.

“Would you like to wear any makeup?” Pearl asked, gesturing to the store. “If I remember correctly, you were wearing some eyeliner when we met, but—”

“I’m fine without,” said Franziska, already walking past.

She had plastered on a full face of makeup before her wedding, in fact, but most of it—at least the foundation and eyeshadow—she’d unintentionally sweated or intentionally wiped off during her struggles. She didn’t like the way most makeup clung to her face, anyway, so it was a victory in her book. And she still had a tube of eyeliner in her boot to touch it up every now and then.

Pearl walked a little faster to keep up. She wasn’t even panting that hard—Franziska was proud. “Okay! We can find something in Mystic Maya’s collection if you change your mind.”

“Does she own much makeup?”

“She mostly owns a lot of nail polish, but she has some other stuff too. I think she just collects some things because she likes the bottle designs.” Pearl shrugged, then stared at the sun-dappled street instead of looking at Franziska. “Besides, my mother always used to say that when you go out, you don’t want to wear too much makeup, otherwise boys will get the wrong idea since they’re only after one thing.”

Franziska’s eyebrows shot up. “I see,” she said simply, not wanting to pursue this topic with a child she didn’t know. Either topic, in fact, judging from what little she knew about Pearl’s mother.

Luckily, Pearl changed the topic for her by tugging on her sleeve and pointing at another store across the street. “What about jewelry?”

“I wouldn’t mind a new pair of earrings.” Franziska pulled at one of hers. She’d slept in the dangling diamonds both nights here, so she would be glad to remove them for a few minutes if nothing else.

“I want to see if I can find something for Chief Prosecutor Skye’s birthday, too—it’s coming up soon, and she’s almost my cousin-in-law,” said Pearl. “We can try another store if nothing in there works out. And then we can go find, um, actual clothes.”

Rather than questioning the decision to accessorize before picking out the outfit itself, Franziska offered her pinky to Pearl, who shook it with her own with a grin. They set off across the street.

Another half an hour later, they emerged with a set of shiny pearl earrings for Franziska (she refrained from making a comment about Pearl’s name that bordered uncomfortably on a real joke) and a delicate, beautiful silver bracelet for Lana Skye. It had a small charm of what Pearl told Franziska were called the scales of justice.

“Since she’s such a dedicated prosecutor and all,” Pearl said upon showing the bracelet to Franziska, voice wavering. “I’ll pay for this one with my own money—I’ve been saving up enough allowance, and I don’t think I can claim it was for an emergency.”

Franziska nodded sagely. “It’s a lovely and thoughtful gift. I didn’t speak much with Lana Skye, but from what Mia Fey told me, she’ll appreciate it very much,” she told Pearl, who preened.

Satisfied with their purchases, they moved onto clothes. In the first shop they entered, which was small and seemed aimed for younger people, Pearl was able to find a layered purple-to-pink dress that went well with the odd pendant she wore as well as, she said, a pair of flats she owned. Upon spotting it, she said, “That’s the dress!” and ran into the changing room.

Franziska took the chance to look around. The clothing for sale was all beautiful, but nothing stuck out to her, and anyway, she was pretty sure nothing was in her size.

Pearl popped out of the changing room. She twirled the skirt with sparkling eyes as she approached Franziska, walking slow enough that the skirt twirled on its own. “What do you think, Princess Franziska?” she said, curtsying.

“It looks wonderful, Pearl Fey.” It did—aside from being the perfect size, it suit her nicely, both the color and style, and Franziska thought it would fit right in at the ball.

Pearl smiled, straightening but maintaining her grip on the sides of the skirt. “Thank you, Your Highness!”

“Of course. Do you like it?”

“I really do,” said Pearl, nodding for emphasis. “I wouldn’t normally wear something like this, but it’s so—so—” Her nose scrunched, face contorting in thought. “Floaty?”

Franziska tilted her head. “Is that a positive adjective?”

“It is now,” Pearl decided. “I love it and I’m going to wear it to the ball.” With another quick curtsy, she disappeared back into the changing room to change back into her everyday clothes. When she came back, her dress was slung across her arm, but she frowned when she saw Franziska standing in the same position. “You didn’t find anything you like here?”

“I’m afraid not.” Franziska glanced outside—there was still plenty of sunlight outside, so she imagined there was also plenty of time to continue shopping. “Shall we move on?”

Pearl rolled up her sleeves with determination. “Of course! I don’t think I can be a fairy godmother for you for more than one reason, Princess Franziska, but I promise we’ll find the perfect look for the ball by sundown.”

They shook pinkies again. Pearl scurried off to pay for her dress (with Maya’s card) while Franziska hung back, looking on with a smile.

The cashier looked over Pearl at her and smiled. “It’s really nice of you to shop with your step-daughter like this,” she said as she rung up Pearl’s dress.

Franziska blinked. “Ah,” she said in a weak voice. Pearl didn’t even seem to have noticed, bouncing on her heels and humming to herself as she waited for her dress to be bagged, but it took a second for Franziska to get her brain back on track. “She isn’t my step-daughter, she is only—a friend’s cousin.” That sounded like a lie, she realized, but most of Franziska’s life—especially as of the past couple of days—would have sounded fake to any stranger.

“Oh, sorry! I just assumed—” The cashier blushed, waving her hands. “You don’t look a thing alike, but I figured since you’re looking after her that you had to be related in some way. Sorry, miss.” She handed the bag over to Pearl, who took it with an ever-wider grin and skipped out.

“It’s all right. I understand your confusion.” Franziska tried not to consider a reality in which she was Pearl’s step-something. She tried so hard not to think about it that she almost walked into a wall on the way out of the store.

They went in and out of several more shops with no luck until the sun started dipping lower, the sky darkening in contrast to the multiplying amount of people out and about. Franziska was grateful for the lessening heat, but she was beginning to worry. She could always fall back on her wedding dress, which was hung out to dry back at the Feys’, but that seemed cheap. Sure, no one at the ball—save Miles, Maya, and Pearl—would know it was recycled from her wedding, but Franziska would, and she could never live with the shame.

At Pearl’s tired but emphatic recommendation, they entered a small boutique on a street corner. Soft but pleasant music within drifted out onto the street. It wasn’t anything that would have caught Franziska’s eye, but it was… comforting, almost cozy, in a way she couldn’t put her finger on. And there weren’t as many people inside as there had been in the department store they’d tried.

Franziska looked around, taking a moment to grimace at the too-bright pink in every direction and decor right out a fairy tale (and not a good one). A worker came up to greet them, but Franziska paid no attention, instead giving a more genuine once-around while Pearl played up the pleasantries.

And then her eyes landed on something, and she froze. Beside her, Pearl had turned back to her and was asking her something, but Franziska wasn’t listening.

Across the room, a mannequin wore an outfit unlike anything Franziska had seen, let alone worn. It wasn’t anything Franziska couldn’t have put together herself, though, but given the time constraints she had at the moment, she couldn’t have done it now. It was flashy, elegant, graceful, even the perfect color scheme to go with her accessories—it was—

She moved toward it on instinct. Time slowed down around her. Already, she glanced around in search of a changing room (and someone to get it down for her, given it was on a raised platform she couldn’t reach and suspected she wasn’t allowed onto without permission). At first sight, Franziska knew.

She was going to wear that to the ball.

Even so, she turned back to Pearl, who was standing back a few feet and watching her with a curious look. Franziska gestured her over, catching her eyes, and pointed to the mannequin. “What do you think?”

Pearl’s reaction was immediate. She gasped, smile slow but brighter than any other today, and her eyes darted between the outfit and Franziska before settling on the latter.

“Oh, Princess Franziska,” she said, confirming all of Franziska’s thoughts, “it’s perfect.”

Notes:

thanks so much for reading!! see you on friday for chapter 8, which is, oh god, technically the penultimate chapter if we aren't counting the epilogue! it's, uh, not exactly smooth sailing from here on out but i hope you'll stick with me anyway. comments & kudos are always appreciated!

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Chapter 8: True Love's Turnabout

Notes:

VERY early chapter bc i'm pretty sure i won't be home this afternoon & thought it'd be better than a rly late chapter! this and the next chapter were originally one whole chapter before i decided to spare y'all (and myself) by not having another 10k+ final chapter, so i apologize in advance for, uh... well, enjoy!

Maya had never been to a ball before, and the King and Queen’s Ball in the Grand Tower wasn’t doing anything to convince her to attend any in the future.

She would still jump at the chance to attend any masquerade ball because they seemed so cool, but unfortunately for her, this was not one. Some of the basic criteria were there: ornate clothing, even more ornate room. No masks, though, and no general air of mystery, just a lot of dancing and mingling, most of the conversation—Maya could only assume—about how snooty everyone was and how good at their jobs (being as the majority of the people in the room were attorneys, who—no offense, Mia, Nick, and Apollo—liked to boast) and dressing they were. Gag.

Maya herself felt underdressed in her simple purple dress. She wasn’t one to be self-conscious about her looks, let alone her fashion choices, but it was kind of sad when even her younger cousin/ward had on a more expensive dress than her. Pearl wouldn’t tell her where the dress came from, either, nor her fancy hairstyle that reminded Maya of Pearl’s half-sisters. From anyone other than Pearl, that secretive smile and the way she mimed zipping her lips would have been suspicious, but…

Well, Pearl was such a good kid that the idea of her doing anything outright illegal or even slightly morally ambiguous made Maya want to laugh. So she trusted her.

Maya could guess as to who else was involved, though. Franziska hadn’t been at the apartment when she’d returned from Trés Bien this evening, but there had been a nice serving of bacon in the fridge with an even nicer note that took Maya twenty minutes to read. And nothing else in her apartment had been disturbed save for looking a touch more spotless.

She wasn’t sure she trusted Franziska quite as much as she did Pearl, but she also didn’t think Franziska would do anything seedy with Pearl around. The dress and hair would have to be a mystery for now, Maya decided.

Now, she hovered on the edge of the dance floor, chatting with Nick and watching her sister and Lana dance across the room to the sound of several Gavinners hits, each leading cleanly into the next. She hadn’t even known Mia could dance, but she wasn’t half bad. Lana knowing how to dance was less surprising but still impressive. Closer to Maya and Nick, Athena and her girlfriend Juniper were half-dancing in a wide semi-circle with Trucy and Pearl. None of them could really dance, so they were all sort of swaying like pre-teens at prom.

So Maya was effectively a chaperone and didn’t even get alcohol to cope with it. She did get shitty fruit punch served in the most ridiculous serving glasses she’d ever seen, but it wasn’t the same.

Nick elbowed her in the side, jarring her out of staring into space. “Want me to spike the punch bowl?”

“Your daughter’s been drinking it—” Maya nodded toward the literal actual goblet of the stuff Trucy held now “—so no.” She paused. “Wait, Nick, do you just carry alcohol on you?”

With a suspicious glance around, Nick opened the side of his suit jacket—which was a recycled jacket from maybe five years ago and as ugly and tattered as Maya remembered—to reveal a silver flask tucked into one of his pockets. “There’s not much anymore,” he said, “and it’s pretty bad anyway.”

Despite feeling like she was engaging in an illicit drug deal, Maya whistled. “Seriously, though, do you carry that all the time?” she asked, a worried note to it. “Because that seems like a problem. Do I need to get Sis in on an intervention?”

“Oh God please no.” Nick rubbed his temples, looking rightfully like someone with the fear of Mia put into him. He shut his jacket with another glance for surreptitious rubberneckers. “No, I just bring this to big events like this—don’t worry, I don’t drink on the job or anything.”

“I think your decisions would be less worrying if you did.”

He coughed and pretended not to hear her, returning his focus to Trucy. Coward.

Maya understood the need for a drink right now, though—even not focusing on her current duty as a chaperone, the room had a way of making someone feel very, very small and very, very poor. Large chandeliers (yes, plural) hung from the ceiling, and not a single spot in the room went untouched by their search beacon-esque glow. An ornate, dizzying pattern covered the carpet and walls. A big staircase with more glowing lights along the railing wound up to the entrance. Near the windows was a raised platform for the Gavinners to perform on—a big black sheet hung over it, and their ‘G’ logo was embedded in diamonds beneath their feet.

The music stopped. Maya gave her best golf clap, watching the dance floor out of the corners of her eyes. The four girls nearby broke apart to get snacks from the refreshment table while Lana and Mia remained in a loose embrace, not looking at each other but still smiling and looking perfectly in love. Hiding her mouth behind her hand—not that they would’ve noticed anyway—Maya mimed gagging at Nick, who snorted and elbowed her again.

Trucy skipped over, a small plate of crackers in hand. Pearl soon followed with a glass of punch. Maya glanced over to see Athena and Juniper engaged in what seemed like a heated debate by the refreshments table.

“Hey, kiddos,” said Nick. “Having fun?”

“Yep! The Gavinners are taking a break for a couple of minutes, but Prosecutor Gavin said I could do a magic trick to lead into a song they’re doing with the guest singer after her solo.” She bounced on her heels with a grin. “Can I?”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he said evenly, and Maya shot him an incredulous look. “What? I know Klavier’s not interested in her, and I trust that he wouldn’t have anyone else who’d be interested in an underage girl on his band.”

Maya laid a hand over her heart. “Wow, Nick, you’re really maturing. Must be all those gray hairs.”

“I don’t see any,” Pearl said, frowning, before Nick could even roll his eyes and shove Maya. “It’s not nice to make fun of Mr. Nick’s old age, Mystic Maya.”

“Yeah, Maya.” Nick froze. “Wait! Pearls, are you calling me old now?!”

Pearl went bright red. “Um—Trucy, will you show me that magic trick before you perform it?”

“Sure! You can be my assistant.” When Pearl nodded, eyes glittering, Trucy grinned and linked her arm through Pearl’s. With her free hand, she tipped her hat in Nick and Maya’s direction. “Thanks, Daddy, talk to her later!”

The two darted away, Pearl still looking a little pink as she waved over her shoulder and Trucy giggling.

“Ah, kids,” said Maya, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. Then she stopped and grabbed at his arm with terror, halfway into an existential crisis. “Oh my God, Nick, we have kids.”

“I have a kid, you have a younger cousin… who you’re currently the legal guardian of.” A beat. “Oh my God, you do have a kid. What the fuck, Maya?”

“I know, right? Nick, when did we get so old?!” Maya whisper-yelled. “I mean, I’m still younger than you so I win, haha, but holy shit. What happened?”

“It could be worse. At least you’re not like—”

“Oh, no, don’t fucking say it!”

“—Oldbag,” Nick wheezed out, covering his mouth as he dissolved into laughter.

Maya couldn’t contain a burst of childish snickers, clapping his shoulder for support. It wasn’t that funny, all things considered, but God it had been such a long week that she just needed a minute or two to lose it.

She expected everyone else to be giving them dirty looks when they managed to get ahold of themselves, but in fact, the entire room seemed to have fallen silent. Maya paused, mouth half-open, and straightened. She looked up to ask Nick if he’d caught what happened, but he too was transfixed, expression slack. Maya followed his gaze and found her breath catching in her throat.

Franziska had arrived.

So had Edgeworth, but he was less interesting—though Maya did like the clean red suit he now wore, still flashy and garish but less tacky than his Borginian outfit—and he left after a brief exchange with Franziska, taking her cloak with him. Once he had, Franziska stepped toward the top of the winding staircase. Her hands sat intertwined at the waist, posture almost demure as she faced the crowd.

Without the cloak, she now was left in a simple but sleek silver suit—a shade or two darker than her hair—with a black shirt and bright teal tie. It had all of the ruffles of her wedding dress but looked much more comfortable. Less suffocating extravagance, more casual elegance. Sequin-adorned pinstripes ran up her jacket. A white lily sat on her lapel, small but bright. Everything about the ensemble—the loose updo, the necklace that blended in with her tie, the short legs of the pants that showed off her boots, the shiny pearl earrings, the black gloves—only added to the effect of pure grace.

“Oh,” Maya whispered.

Franziska looked perfect. Like a princess.

As one, it was natural that she did, but now it was more obvious than ever. As she looked down, her posture swelled, becoming more like what Maya was used to, and her hand rested above her whip. There was no doubt from her presence that she was someone important. She may have looked like a princess, but she carried herself like a queen—all the rightful arrogance and gravitational pull that held everyone’s attention.

A smile split across Maya’s face. Behind her, the band began to play again. Time went on like the disturbance had never happened. Her eyes met a stiff Franziska’s, and automatically, her hand snapped out to wave her over.

“Hey, Fran, over here!”

*

Franziska’s eyes widened as Maya made the biggest scene possible, flailing like a madwoman and yelling at the top of her lungs. She could always pretend she wasn’t ‘Fran’ (especially because she wasn’t, red as the nickname was making her), but since Maya also decided to look right at Franziska, there was little doubt as to whom she was speaking to.

She did her best to hide until Miles returned, though, and when he did she grabbed his wrist and yanked him down the stairs. Maya had stopped screaming but was still waving.

“Franziska, what is the—?” Miles stopped, seeming to see where Franziska was headed. “Ah.”

He huffed and let Franziska guide him across the room, elbowing her way around the dance floor. She tried at least not to step onto it—Mia and her Lana Skye were in the middle of an intricate dance that didn’t match the music’s beat in the slightest but seemed to make them happy, so she didn’t want to do anything to interrupt.

Along the way, she caught sight of the others from Fey & Wright too. Wright himself was standing beside Maya with a sheepish grin. Justice hovered by the stage, watching that flashy prosecutor sing with what Franziska could best describe as a dopey expression. Athena and a woman Franziska didn’t recognize were dancing nearby. Their dancing was much less fluid than Lana and Mia’s, but they still looked happy enough to be in each other’s company, and Franziska offered Athena a thin smile over her partner’s shoulder. Pearl and Trucy were nowhere to be seen, but Franziska had noticed a pair of French braids flying past when she and Miles had walked in.

Maya’s arm lowered as they approached. “Hey.”

Franziska dropped Miles’ wrist. “Hello.”

Wright looked as though he was about to say something (looking at him and his foolish excuse for a suit, Franziska could think of several things to say herself), but before he could, the music cut off once again. Franziska refused to applaud despite pointed looks from both Maya and Miles. On stage, Gavin took a bow, as did the other musicians around him—the other musicians, though, didn’t blow a kiss in one Apollo Justice’s direction.

“Oh my God,” Maya whispered.

Franziska was inclined to agree. Justice looked like he wanted to faint, but before she could look any longer, the lights dimmed—unexpected but not unappreciated, given the painful lighting from the chandeliers. (Chandeliers, really. They were far too gaudy for even Franziska’s papa’s tastes.)

A woman stepped on stage, replacing Gavin’s band. She wore a dark blue ensemble with a mask covering most of her face, and she looked familiar in a way Franziska couldn’t place—no one else seemed to recognize her, but they did lean toward the stage as though enchanted.

The woman made a brief announcement—“the Gavinners,” as she called them (what a foolish name), would return soon and perform alongside her, but first she would sing a song of her own. Her voice also carried a faint accent that sounded almost Borginian. Before Franziska could figure anything out, the woman picked up Gavin’s studded microphone.

Violins began to play in the distance. At this point, Franziska was willing to accept them as a figment of her imagination, but everyone else broke out of their trances. People—both those already dancing and not—paired off and headed to the dance floor while the woman (Lamiroir, Franziska reminded herself, recalling the poster) began to sing, her voice soft yet haunting.

Maya held out a hand, and it took Franziska a second to realize it was to her. “Wanna dance?”

Franziska blinked. Wright muttered something to Maya, who gave him a pointed look but otherwise continued smiling at Franziska.

“I see no reason why not,” Franziska said, despite being able to name at least three off the top of her head.

She took Maya’s hand. Even through her glove, she could feel the warmth—she couldn’t help remembering how that warmth had felt against her skin, how soft Maya’s hand had been resting on her cheek and then jaw—

But Maya’s smile was widening, and she had no time or reason to think of such things.

Together, they walked to the far end of the dance floor, weaving around other dance partners. Franziska raised her and Maya’s still-intertwined hands and stepped closer. Maya let her but didn’t lean any further herself.

“Hey—” she swept her free hand in the general direction of Miles and Wright, who—as far as Franziska knew, as she refused to check—were still standing where they’d left them “—do you think they’ll end up dancing?”

Franziska laid her own hand on Maya’s waist. “I think you should focus on the dance in front of you rather than someone else dancing. Especially my brother,” she added with a wince.

Maya laughed. “Yeah, that’s fair. …Except I can’t dance. Can you?” she asked, meaningfully glancing at the way they were swaying on the edge of the dance floor.

“Hmph. Of course I can dance, Maya Fey, I—”

“—am the perfect and amazing Franziska von Karma.” Maya attempted to bow before remembering her limited mobility and turning it into a slight dip that didn’t work one bit.

Franziska ignored the smile that threatened to creep across her face. “I was going to say that I am a princess and took plenty of lessons growing up, but yes, I suppose that works as well.”

They continued standing still with the occasional awkward sway when another pair danced by. Franziska sighed and removed her hand from Maya’s waist for a moment to place Maya’s free hand, which was limp at her side again, on her shoulder. Maya’s fingers curled in—more on instinct than anything else, it seemed.

“I was already planning on this,” Franziska said, “but I will lead to make up for your inexperience.”

“Sure, sure.” Maya patted her shoulder. “Just don’t blame me if I step on your feet, okay?”

Franziska sighed, unsurprised that this was the most she’d get. She compromised: “It’s been several years since I last danced with another, so I ask you to extend the same courtesy to me.”

“Um, I’m definitely going to blame you. One, you’re a better dancer than me by virtue of knowing how to dance at all. Two—” Maya glanced at Franziska’s feet “—those shoes will fucking hurt. I’m a paralegal, I know how to press charges.”

Franziska eyed Maya’s… she wasn’t sure what those shoes were called, in fact, just that they were open-toed. “Can you press charges against someone who isn’t a citizen of your country?” she retorted, stepping back and tugging Maya with her because they somehow still weren’t moving.

“Point taken. Okay, I’ll shut up and dance now.”

Maya’s hand slipped from Franziska’s shoulder to the back of her neck, pressing them closer together. Her fingers brushed a bare strip of skin above Franziska’s collar and below her hair. Franziska shivered—hopefully it went unnoticed—and stumbled the slightest bit but managed to recover without even stepping on Maya’s foot.

She took the opportunity to build a steady rhythm. She guided Maya along to the beat of the song playing behind them, which was growing on her. Between Lamiroir’s soothing voice and the violins in the distance, it was rather pleasant—not perfect, but something Franziska might have chosen to play at her wedding had she really had a choice. Even if she had a knee-jerk reaction to violins now.

Soon, Maya got the hang of it. She followed Franziska’s gentle steps to the letter, if a beat or two behind—the first time she tried to watch the steps, Franziska tilted her chin up and shook her head, and Maya didn’t look down again. By the time the song picked up pace, so did they.

They spun across the dance floor, forgetting—at least on Franziska’s end—about the past two days, about the dismal future, about everything. It seemed that the entire world had narrowed to the two of them. As if the rest of the dancers were skirting aside to make way for a spotlight focusing on them.

Franziska couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this light. Her feet glided across the floor in a way they hadn’t since she was young and forced to take regular dance lessons that she ended up enjoying; her steps came like second nature. A genuine smile stretched from ear to ear before she could tamp down on it.

There was nothing fancy about their dance: no more dips, no lifts, not even a graceful spin. It was simple swaying and stepping and the occasional turn, something one might learn on their first day of a ballroom dancing class (or a much later date, if one was Franziska and had strong-armed her way to the meat of things). It was clumsy with inexperience and lack of practice. Maya did end up stepping on Franziska’s toes once or twice, going ignored as Franziska settled into things.

Objectively speaking, their dancing wasn’t good.

But as far as Franziska was concerned, it was perfect.

The spell broke after what could have been a minute or could have been hours—Franziska couldn’t tell. The song ended, and the lights returned in full force, and they remembered themselves. As applause filled the room, including Franziska’s stilted claps as though strings were drawing her hands together, they broke apart. Franziska found herself blinking through damp eyes. Maya’s mouth was parted, breathless, and Franziska’s brain—against her wishes—cut back again to the night before, when they’d been even closer, when she’d felt Maya’s breath on her face, mere centimeters between them—

No. No, she still couldn’t think of it. Franziska shook the memory away and curtsied to Maya, who took the hint and bowed.

“Thank you for the dance, Maya Fey.”

Maya didn’t get the chance to respond, for just then a hand tapped Franziska’s shoulder and she turned to face a somewhat flustered Miles. Her irritation at the interruption must have shown, because he cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat before speaking. “Ready to leave?”

Franziska glanced over her shoulder. Maya had already walked away, heading toward the refreshments table. Turning back, Franziska cleared her own throat. “I—yes. Let’s go.”

Miles offered her his arm. For once, Franziska didn’t object—she slotted hers through his and let him guide her up the empty—whether by intervention or design—staircase. She drifted up, listless and a step behind him, looking over her shoulder every few steps.

“Everything all right?” Miles asked in whispered Borginian.

Franziska pressed her lips together and responded in English: “Everything is perfect. Did you get to dance?”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t—a good decision for everyone. Looking now like he was suppressing a smile, he said, “Yes,” but didn’t elaborate.

That was fine. Franziska didn’t need to know. She just nodded and forced herself to look back again as they ascended the last several stairs, inhales and exhales shallow and almost pained. Once they hit the landing, she could breathe properly again, but it still felt weak. Miles’ arm fell away.

“I’ll go fetch your cloak,” he said, and Franziska nodded again.

She wasn’t allowed a second to herself, though. As soon as Miles disappeared and Franziska took a step with a soft sigh of relief, another man was right in front of her.

She doubled back with a gasp, about to reprimand the man for the startle—then she realized that she recognized him.

“You!” she snapped. “You’re the old man who sent me here! The nerve of you to show up in front of me here as though you didn’t shove me into a well—!”

Yanni Yogi, still wearing a baggy cloak that hid most of his features, gave her a loose smile. “Sorry, miss, I don’t remember any of that,” he said—lied. “Perhaps you’re mistaken. This is an awful place, you know—must do things to you, with how full of pain and sadness it is.”

Ignorant of her protests again, Yogi took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face the crowd. Franziska’s eyes landed automatically on one figure.

Maya Fey stood alone in a corner, sipping from a glass with a content expression and not looking anywhere near the stairs. Her content expression grew brighter when Pearl, wearing a pink cape much like Trucy’s over her dress, approached. Mia, Lana, and Wright were soon to follow. Maya’s smile only grew.

It was understandable—Franziska was leaving, after all, not just this ball but her world entirely; Maya was having fun with her friends and family. But it still stung.

“To never be with the ones you care for, doomed to be with another for eternity…” Yogi’s voice washed over her, cool and detached. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. I can stop it. I can make all of these bad memories disappear.”

From his robes he extracted a single red apple, crisp and bright and full enough to make Franziska’s dry mouth water, realizing she hadn’t eaten since this morning. She reached for it before she could even think twice. Yogi tipped it into her palm with a widening smile. It seemed heavier than it should have—she chalked it up to the size.

“Just one bite and all of this will go away. Your life here, the people you’re leaving behind—you won’t remember a thing. Only sweet dreams and happy endings. But you must hurry,” he insisted, wagging his finger at her. Franziska jumped but held tight to the apple. “The magic within won’t work unless you take a bite before the clock strikes twelve.”

Franziska glanced at the clock above her. Thirty minutes to midnight.

She looked back down over the crowd. Maya was now facing away, in the middle of a conversation. She looked happy—she was grinning, laughing, punching Wright in the arm, ruffling Pearl’s hair, gesturing between Lana and Mia with her glass.

Good, Franziska thought, but it only reminded her of her fate. Forced to marry someone she had never met and would never be interested in. Forced to live a life that had never been hers.

She looked up at Yogi, who was smiling, fingers steepled in front of his face.

Sweet dreams and happy endings. If only those could truly exist.

Franziska lifted the apple to her mouth and bit down.

*

Plunk.

Maya faltered mid-sentence and bent down to inspect the object that had rolled against her foot. When she picked it up, she frowned.

It was an apple. Bright red, shiny enough from the bright lights to reflect her face, whole except for a perfect bite out of the center.

While Maya didn’t have an intimate knowledge of fairy tales, she knew the classics, the iconic symbols, and she couldn’t help but snort at the irony. Then something occurred to her—she’d disregarded it the night before, then forgotten about it in the subsequent chaos. A perfect apple martini, she remembered the old waiter saying. From a secret admirer.

You really are a Disney princess, she remembered herself saying, and she froze.

“Maya?” Mia asked, voice distant as though through water-clogged ears. “Is everything okay?”

But Maya had already thrown the apple aside and bolted for the stairs. “Franziska!”

As soon as she reached the top, she realized she was far from alone—a crowd was gathered around the elevator, which was wide open. Maya pushed her way through the crowd, heart pounding. Edgeworth stood in front of the elevator, sword between where the doors would have come together, and inside—

Inside stood a single figure: an older man. Maya stiffened again at the sight of him, noticing at once that he bore a striking resemblance to one Franziska von Karma.

The more Maya stared, the more she noticed. Same cold eyes. Same pale skin, though his was more wrinkled and gray-toned. Same sleek light hair. Same fancy clothes (his looked more like Edgeworth’s, but dark blue instead of red). Same pompous smirk once the shock on his face cleared.

Edgeworth seemed to recognize the man and reeled back. “Wh—von Karma?!”

The man—King Manfred von Karma, of course—straightened, drumming a finger on the edge of his cane. “Edgeworth. I should have known you would be here,” he said with disdain. His accent, too, was more similar to Franziska’s, though still not quite as strong, but that wasn’t what caught Maya’s attention.

Her gaze, instead, focused on the pale body crumpled on the floor behind him, revealed when he moved and his cloak slid aside. Her blood ran cold at the sight.

“Franziska,” she breathed again, but Edgeworth had already rushed in, and the crowd was too busy for her to shove her way through again.

“Oh, there’s no need,” said von Karma quickly as Edgeworth bent to inspect the body. “Leave her.”

Not heeding his instructions, Edgeworth lifted an unresponsive Franziska in a loose carry, limp arm slung around his neck. Someone dragged a couch over. Edgeworth laid Franziska across it, followed by her cloak where it was draped across his arm, and—looking frantic—pressed a hand against her forehead. Maya couldn’t make out much of her from here, but she could see that she was even paler than usual—and that the flower on her lapel had wilted.

“She fainted, so I was taking her out for some fresh air,” added von Karma. The sweat pooling on his skin and the way he gripped his cane told a different story.

Off in the distance, Maya could make out Lana’s voice calling 911. Something told her they wouldn’t be able to help, but she couldn’t find her voice to say so.

“No, she certainly did not faint.” Edgeworth’s hand snapped off Franziska’s forehead to instead jab at von Karma. His hand shook as he raised it, but the way he was visibly seething—enough so to raise the hair on Maya’s arms—made it threatening anyway. “I knew you were a perfectionist, von Karma, but poisoning your own daughter to maintain control? That’s a new low.” He shook his head. “I swear that when we return to Borginia, you will be removed from the throne forever. I will personally see to it.”

Von Karma sneered, but the sweat pouring down his face shone under the bright lighting. “You have no power to do so,” he spat out, “or have you forgotten your place, Sir Edgeworth? You are a mere knight, unable to stand in the way of the king. You serve me. And besides, you have no proof I did any such thing—”

“You all!” Edgeworth barked at the crowd. “Did you see this man interacting with—” he gestured toward Franziska “—this young woman? Or anything else suspicious?”

All around, people shook their heads and whispered, but Maya raised a shaking hand. “I found an apple,” she blurted, and Edgeworth’s eyes locked onto her. “I—I dropped it, but it should still be back there somewhere.”

Still by the elevator, von Karma froze. Edgeworth ignored him, instead gesturing to everyone else in the vicinity. “If you are to test that apple—assuming von Karma hasn’t already found some way to dispose of it, though I doubt even he had the time or means—you will most likely find a substance that shouldn’t exist here. It is a rare poison from the fields north of Borginia that, when ingested, knocks the consumer into a deep, death-like slumber.” He shot a glance at the clock and swallowed. “And if not counteracted before midnight, they will never wake.”

“See?” said von Karma, smile only growing. “You may have caught me, but you are far too late to do anything about it. You’ve always been weak, Sir Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth grit his teeth, opening his mouth, but before he could say anything, someone else cut in: “Is there anything that can be done?”

Maya jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice right behind her—when she turned, she found everyone else from Fey & Wright standing around her. No wonder she’d been able to hear Lana. Nick gripped her shoulder, grip tight enough to show his nerves. Pearl reached up to grab her hand with a crushing grip of her own. Maya could only clutch her Magatama and take deep breaths, narrowing her focus to the people at her side and in front of her instead of the still-whispering crowd behind her.

Edgeworth looked down, gripping the inside of his elbow. “I’m afraid I know of no cure. Von Karma—”

Von Karma himself laughed. “What, you think I would inform you of any way to thwart my plan? I am no amateur!”

“I was going to tell you not to interfere,” Edgeworth snapped.

Twirling his cane, von Karma turned away from the others. “Bah! You’ve already lost, arrogant fools that you are, so I shall wait here for your incessant babbling to end. Do as you wish. You’re only wasting your time.”

“Is there anything you can think of that could help?” Maya said, looking between Edgeworth and Franziska’s lifeless form. “A counterspell or potion or—” Everyone stared. “What? I read books.”

“I—I don’t know. Possibly?” Edgeworth tapped his arm with a look of simultaneous anger and concentration. His head twisted away from Franziska—after a second, he started to glance back and just closed his eyes. “But gathering any materials would take far too long. By the time I managed to assemble something that might help, Franziska would already be—”

He trailed off. No one asked to elaborate.

Maya’s heart sank. “So there’s nothing we can do.”

Another minute ticked away, seeming to move too fast and too slow all at once. Midnight grew closer and closer. The gears running in everyone’s heads were almost visible as they racked their brains—but given most of them were probably already having trouble wrapping their heads around the concept of a magic curse right out of a fairy tale, no one spoke.

Maya’s mind, for one, was blank. She tried to latch onto any sort of information she’d gleaned from her conversations with Franziska, anything that could be applicable here. She couldn’t, and she knew there had to be something, something really obvious they were overlooking, but she just couldn’t get to it, couldn’t make her brain work—

“True love’s kiss,” said Pearl. Her voice was almost a whisper, but it seemed like a shout.

Above her head, everyone else exchanged nervous glances. The princess from another dimension and poison was already weird—this was pushing it.

Edgeworth, however, appeared to be frowning in genuine thought. “That—that may be it,” he said, sounding astounded even at himself. Maya stared, wondering if this had scrambled his brains, but he already seemed to be growing more confident in the suggestion. “Yes! Von Karma would account for everything, but true love is something he doesn’t believe in. Even I—” He shook his head, face falling again. “Not important. But—”

“But there’s no one here who could give it to her,” Maya said, covering her mouth, and Edgeworth winced and nodded. “She’s never met her fiancé—not that he’s here anyway, and that would never be true love because—” Wait, holy shit, it wasn’t cool to out someone, let alone when she was lying unconscious right in front of them and also hadn’t really come out to Maya in the first place. Maya coughed and finished weakly, “Uh, because of reasons.”

Edgeworth raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Oh, yeah, he was her brother and also probably gay.

The clock ticked. Maya’s heartbeat kicked up with it.

Von Karma laughed. “You’ll never save her now,” he said. “When the clock strikes twelve, she’ll be dead.”

“Does that guy ever shut up?” muttered Nick. He tapped his chin, eyes darting around the way they did when he was trying to pull a solution out of his ass in court, and then he froze the way he did when he came up with something stupid and terrible that usually ended well against all odds. “Maya!”

“Wh-What about me?!”

“Kiss her,” he said. Now Maya wondered if he’d finally cracked, but he shook his head and said, “Think about it! You’ve been the closest to her this whole time—you put her up for two days, you danced with her, you hung out with her—so you probably have the best chance of getting through with true love’s kiss!”

“We met two days ago! And she doesn’t like me like that, I—”

“Most of the princes and princesses in fairy tales haven’t even met before they share true love’s kiss,” cut in Pearl, fists balled. “Mr. Nick is right!” Maya could already see the pun half-formed on Nick’s lips, but he refrained from saying it. Good, this wasn’t the time. “Besides, you like her, don’t you? Maybe you don’t love her, but it could turn into that eventually!”

“I—I—” Even so, she didn’t want to admit that in front of her co-workers, little cousin, and Franziska’s brother, who was also starting to look convinced.

“It’s worth a try, Miss Fey,” he said, quiet, reaching over to clasp her shoulder. “Please. Even if you don’t think it’ll work…”

Something in his face made Maya freeze—something like desperation, raw and open. Oh.

Maya looked around at her family. Not just Mia and Pearl, but Nick and Trucy and Lana and Apollo and Athena too, because hell if Fey & Wright and all its tag-alongs weren’t a family. A big and messy and broken family, but a family nonetheless.

And if anyone in Maya’s family was dying of a weird fairy tale curse and the only cure was a kiss, possibly from a total stranger, she’d take that fucking chance.

“Okay,” she decided, and she knelt.

The anticipation in the room was almost suffocating. Feeling like everyone’s eyes were on her—which, save von Karma’s, they probably were—she took a few deep breaths, or at least as deep as a few seconds each would allow.

It’s okay, she told herself. It’s just a kiss. You’re doing this to save her. She shut her eyes and leaned down.

And, with no further ado, Maya pressed her lips to Franziska’s.

Her first thought was: Wow, Snow White made this seem a lot more romantic. She didn’t have many thoughts after that.

It was… weird to kiss someone who wasn’t responsive—there was no better word for it than that. Franziska was cold and stiff beneath her, much like a dead fish, and it was uncomfortable to kiss someone who had no say in it, even if it was to save her life. If it was something like CPR, Maya would feel better, but it really wasn’t.

After only a couple of seconds, she drew back, feeling way too weird to cherish the moment. Her eyes popped open, scanning Franziska’s face like a hawk.

For several more seconds, every heartbeat stood still. The anticipation swelled, everyone leaning forward, waiting to watch Franziska gasp for breath and see Maya and smile with an unbridled affection even Maya hadn’t seen in her face. Any second now, she could wake. Any second now, any second now, any—

But a full minute passed, and Franziska didn’t move. Her eyes remained shut, her expression as peaceful as though she were really just sleeping, and her chest stayed still. Maya knew she stood but couldn’t feel it, entire body numb.

“I’m sorry, Miss Fey,” said Edgeworth, and when Maya glanced up, the devastation on his face was clear. “I truly thought—”

“No, it’s not your fault,” she said quickly. “It was dumb to think it’d work in the first place—no offense, Nick. I mean, we’ve only known each other for two days. Definitely not true love.”

Maya blinked hard, trying to keep herself from crying as dread built in her stomach—not only because she couldn’t give Franziska true love’s kiss, but because there were no other options now. And that meant Franziska would be dead in—she glanced at the clock—less than two minutes. True love or not, Maya couldn’t sit by and let that happen. She stared at the clock.

And then, miraculously, a solution came to mind.

“…Wait.” Hope began to stir again, and she turned her gaze back on Edgeworth. “No one ever said ‘true love’ had to be romantic, right?”

Edgeworth stared back at her for a beat before it clicked. “Oh,” he said quietly. “You mean—me?”

“You’re her little brother,” said Maya, practically shoving him toward Franziska. It didn’t work as well as she’d planned, given how much taller he was, but he stumbled forward nonetheless, blinking. “The only person she told me more about than herself was you. She loves you, you obviously love her, and—oh, fuck it, we don’t have time to hash all this out, just fucking try!”

She didn’t need to tell him twice, at least. Maya’s heart shuddered in her chest as she watched him hover over Franziska’s static body—it was so hard not to think of it as a corpse, but it wasn’t, it couldn’t be—and lean down. His movements were rushed, hurried, but time seemed to slow down anyway. He glanced up, then turned back and smoothed a few loose hairs out of the way.

And as Edgeworth laid a kiss on Franziska’s forehead, the clock struck twelve.

Notes:

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in my original outline, like the original scene, maya did revive franziska -- but while actually writing the scene, i thought it was cliche and kinda dumb outside of a real disney movie. and honestly dumb in the actual original disney movie, but i'm going to stop myself there before i go into my pitch about slow burn giselle/nancy. i'm also a fan of subversions of fairy tale tropes, esp non-romantic true love's kisses, and i really appreciate franziska + edgeworth's relationship (especially how easily people have taken to them being siblings despite them not being biologically or presumably even legally -- given how there's a lot of talk in "goodbyes" about edgeworth being trained by von karma but not adopted, which i think would be slightly more important -- related), so!

on a lighter note, franziska wore a dress in the first draft. but i can always use more women in suits. it did hurt to rewrite the description, but hopefully writing image descriptions for about half a year has made me marginally better at describing clothes! also, yes, they're in the tower from aai2. this will be relevant soon.

anyway, thanks for reading!! see you tuesday for chapter 9! just that one and the epilogue left now! &, as always, comments & kudos are very much appreciated if you have the time <3

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Chapter 9: Turnabout Finale

A half-forgotten memory floated at the edge of Franziska's subconscious, bound to be forgotten or dismissed as a dream if she woke:

Franziska von Karma, age nine, and Miles Edgeworth, age sixteen, were sitting in a field of flowers. Or maybe it was one of their rooms, or a dirt path behind the castle; the location was as indistinct as locations in dreams and distant memories tended to be. All Franziska knew was that she was resting on something soft, eyes half-closed, and Miles was reading fairy tales to her.

Franziska’s father had deemed her too old to be told such stories. Franziska had tried to follow his guidance, to be perfect for him, but in the end, she hadn’t been able to—but since everyone worth their salary knew to follow King Manfred’s instructions, she went to Miles.

She’d expected him to laugh, to hold it over her head, to use the childish request as leverage in one of their many competitions, maybe even to enact the ultimate revenge and tell her father. Instead he’d smiled and taken an old book Franziska didn’t recognize from one of his bookshelves. He was the only person to let her be a child.

“Where is that from?” Franziska had said, eyeing the book. The title was in English, which she had still been learning, so she didn’t understand it.

Miles’ thumb ran absently across the letters. “The place I’m from. Your father didn’t know I brought it, otherwise I suspect he would have taken it from me. It was a gift from my own father when I wasn’t much younger than you.”

“Oh.” It couldn’t be bad, then, Franziska had decided. Everything Miles said about his deceased father was kind and loving, and gifts from fathers were already often good. “And what is it about?”

“All sorts of things,” said Miles, smile growing. “But why should I tell you about them when I can simply read them to you?”

So now they sat wherever they were sitting. They sat with their legs folded, facing each other but not looking at each other, Franziska’s lidded gaze focused elsewhere and Miles’ focused on the book in his lap. His calm voice was almost enough to lull her to sleep even sitting up. The story he told was one Franziska had never heard before, and as it neared its end with all the twists and turns that could be expected from a fairy tale, Franziska’s nose had wrinkled with distaste.

“—and they lived happily ever after.” Miles didn’t yet close the book but looked up at her, silently questioning.

Franziska disregarded the glance and crossed her arms. “That one was stupid,” she said with all the petulance of a nine-year-old princess. “I didn’t like it one bit, Miles Edgeworth.” (This was a baldfaced lie; she had liked it up until the last several paragraphs, and her enjoyment had been somewhat obvious.)

“I didn’t write it.”

“Then I shall write a letter of complaint to the foolish fool who foolishly did.”

“They were from another place, Franziska, and are most likely long dead by now.”

Franziska fell silent. She scowled and tugged her knees up to her chest. “Well then, I’ll have to settle for telling you. You don’t mind, do you?”

She refused to look back at Miles, but she could hear him sigh and slam the book shut with a clap that made her wince. “Why do you dislike it?”

“All that talk about the power of love and true love’s kiss and all of that at the end.” Franziska wanted to gag at the very mention. “Only a true fool would believe in such utter nonsense.”

“There were a great many inaccuracies in that story,” said Miles, impatiently patient voice coming across as patronizing. Franziska dug her nails into her arms. “For instance, I’ve never heard of a spell that could set someone to sleep for a hundred years. There’s a reason these tales are referred to as fairy tales.” He paused, waiting for her to speak. When she didn’t, only glowering at the sky or ceiling, he sighed and went on. “Not that I believe in ‘such utter nonsense,’ as you call it, but what makes you so certain?”

“It just doesn’t exist, all right?!” Franziska jerked her head up, fixing Miles with a glare that made him startle back, and she winced at the echo of her rising voice. She shrunk back into herself. “Whenever I ask about my mother, all Papa will tell me is that one isn’t supposed to truly care for their spouse, only use them to their own benefit—or at least that’s how it is for the von Karma royal family.” Her temper surged again. “Papa would never lie to me. And us von Karmas are perfect in every way. So love itself is already unbelievable.”

“Well,” said Miles, “I wouldn’t say that much—”

“And why is that?” Miles didn’t say anything, only stared at the book like the closed cover was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Franziska’s eyes narrowed. “Miles Edgeworth, have you… experienced such feelings?”

“It—” He mirrored her crossed arms and leaned back, flushing. “It was a long time ago. And not love, per se. We were young, somewhere around your age, and we’ll never see each other again.” Despite the measured confidence in his words and matter-of-fact tone he used, there was something sadder in his face. Franziska was about to ask why when he added, sobering, “Your father may not lie to you, Franziska, but what he believed may not be the truth.”

“What do you mean,” Franziska murmured, not quite a question.

Miles seemed just as startled. “Ah—nothing, I was merely thinking aloud. You’ll understand when you’re older, I suppose, and—” he patted the book “—you may gain a better understanding of these stories as well.”

“I hate that. ‘You’ll understand when you’re older,’” she mocked in Miles’ shoddy Borginian accent. Admittedly, it wasn’t awful if one wasn’t paying attention and it had gotten much better since he’d first arrived, but it was nowhere near as perfect as hers or her papa’s. “Bah! I understand plenty of things now, Miles Edgeworth. Like that you are inferior to me, the Prodigy.”

A faint smile appeared. “What, because I suggested the concept of love in fairy tales might not be entirely off-base?”

“Exactly.” Franziska stood with a smirk and curtsied. “I have no use for such things as true love’s kisses. One day, you will feel the same way, or else you will not be worthy of calling yourself a disciple of the house of von Karma, let alone carrying our name.”

“I don’t carry your name to begin with, Franziska.”

“Hmph. Already backing down? I never thought you were a coward, Miles Edgeworth.”

“Very well, then.” Miles tucked the book into one of the many pockets on the inside of his jacket and stood, dusting himself off. He extended his hand—after a second, he curled the rest of his fingers in, holding only his pinky finger out. “Whichever one of us cedes to the other’s point first is worthier of our status in this family. Deal?”

Franziska linked their pinkies and shook. “Deal,” she said, and then the image was crumbling at the edges, turning to cotton and dissipating, and—

*

Franziska woke to the sound of a clock chiming.

She jerked upright with a sharp gasp, bringing air into her lungs like she hadn’t been able to breathe in years. As the chimes faded, the sound of a crowd came into startling clarity—murmurs, cheers, applause.

Her vision took a second longer to clear, but when it did, the first thing she saw was Maya Fey. She was bent at Franziska’s side, a breathtaking smile shining as she clung to Franziska’s hand. Tears stained her cheeks. Her breathing was strained, hiccups interrupting weak breaths, and when she met Franziska’s eyes her grin only widened.

A pair of hands was resting on Franziska’s shoulders, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up, too struck by Maya obviously crying with relief—what had happened? Franziska patted the ground beneath her to find it wasn’t a ground at all but a couch. She was still in the ballroom, lying down on a solid couch with a blurry crowd in every direction. She didn’t remember how she got here.

But she could remember an apple, and falling, and a familiar old man’s voice saying, “You won’t remember anything.” And that could only mean—

Her free hand shot up to her mouth, fingers brushing her lips. She couldn’t feel anything, but she’d been unconscious, hadn’t she? A faint tingle ran up her spine. Was this what a first kiss was supposed to feel like? Was it even reasonable to consider this a first kiss if she hadn’t been awake for it? All Franziska knew was that there was only one person it could be.

“Maya Fey,” she said softly, twisting her hand in Maya’s grip to squeeze Maya’s hand. “I knew—”

Behind her, someone coughed. Franziska spun her head to meet Miles’ sheepish eyes, which immediately closed as he said, “Not quite.”

“…What,” said Franziska, slow, “the fuck—”

“No, no, just your forehead,” Miles was quick to assure her, tapping his own forehead. Franziska still wanted to find a nearby sink and possibly a window to vomit out of, but it did make her hackles lower. “Ms. Fey did try, but—”

A scream cut through the air, cutting him off, and Miles’ eyes widened in a way Franziska hadn’t seen since she was younger, checking on him after a nightmare. Franziska’s half-formed question was interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice snarling, “Impossible!”

Franziska froze. It couldn’t be. She had to still be unconscious. But she could feel reality sinking in more and more by the second, and—

Slowly, she turned, a lump rising in her throat as she faced the inevitable. When she spoke, it was in a broken, hoarse voice little over a whisper: “Papa?”

Her father glared back at her. It was an expression Franziska was used to seeing, but not so directly aimed at her, and she shook under the intensity of it. He was pressed against the wall nearest to the elevator, a hand gripping his shoulder while his cane sat on the ground at his feet. His hair was loose and unkempt, sweat slicking loose strands to his gaunt face.

Had it only been a couple of days since Franziska had last seen him? She felt now, looking at her father with horror, that it had been an eternity since she’d last spoken to her father; a chasm seemed to separate them rather than several meters.

“I don’t understand,” Franziska said. “P-Papa, why… why would you…?”

His fingers dug further into his shoulder, face twisting with an emotion Franziska didn’t dare name. “Edgeworth,” he spat out, voice not even sounding human. His gaze wasn’t focused on Franziska anymore, instead rising over her head, but it bled with as much—if not more—contempt. “Only—you would—dare defy me—!”

But then he shook his head, and he laughed. It was a pathetic sound—Franziska’s eyes stung to see the man her father had become. Or perhaps, she thought as her stomach churned, he had always been like this, and she had been as mindless as the rest of her kingdom, unable to see beyond the mask.

“The most powerful thing in the world,” he murmured. “Bah! I don’t think so. You all want to see something powerful, something perfect?” He snapped his fingers. The ringing sound made Franziska flinch. “I shall give you perfect. Back up, and prepare for the main event.”

Franziska couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All she could do was stare while her father, still clutching his shoulder, began chanting under his breath. She couldn’t hear him between his low voice and the blood rushing in her ears, but she could see him mouthing almost familiar words and feel the magic hanging in the air, the tension setting her hair on end like static electricity.

And another scream tore itself from her father’s throat—bloodcurdling, uncontrolled, and above all else confident. Franziska covered her ears with a pained gasp.

Pale blue energy enveloped the room, flooding her vision and flashing against her eyelids when she could no longer hold her eyes open. A sound like a bolt of lightning striking the ground rumbled out, and the room shook. The smell of burning and smoke and, beneath it, blood overwhelmed her. And then the light faded, and Franziska opened her eyes.

A clicking noise sounded somewhere in her throat. “Papa?” she heard herself say.

More gasps and sounds of horror, along with the hurried footsteps of an entire room fleeing, sounded. A familiar hand laid on Franziska’s shoulder, grip shaky and too tight. Franziska reached numbly up to touch Miles’ hand.

“My God,” said Mia. She was standing to the side, but her voice was distant and muddled as though she was speaking from a great distance. Franziska couldn’t tell if it was Mia’s own volume or the drowning sensation that had begun again in her own ears.

For before them, King Manfred von Karma was no more.

In his place, smoke billowing out of flaring nostrils, was a great silver dragon.

With the combination of spread wings—bat-like and skeletal in form, sinewy membrane clinging to the bony framework; the right wing was visibly broken, its membrane even stringier—and a lean body leading up to a coiling neck, it was no surprise that he towered far above them. His curved horns even grazed the ceiling. He let loose a fearsome roar that shook the entire building. And there was no question that he was Franziska’s father—the curl of his mouth, a sinister expression Franziska had seen on his human face far too many times, only proved it.

In one of her few dull moments, Franziska thought, Oh, so that’s where our family crest comes from. She’d always wondered at the presence of a dragon on the crest that featured on tapestries hanging all throughout the castle and kingdom in general. As far as she’d known, there were few dragons in Borginia and thus little history with her family. She’d chalked it up to dragons being powerful creatures and thus befitting of the perfect von Karma lineage—now, she realized that was a little more literal than she’d always assumed.

Outwardly, she shook off the bewilderment and staggered to her feet. “Papa!” she said again, clinging to the last shreds of desperation. “Please, you don’t have to do this! I-I’ll return home, I’ll do anything you want! I know I haven’t been perfect nor worthy of your benevolence, but please, Papa, you don’t have to do this.”

Her father laughed, an odd yet chilling sound out of a dragon’s mouth. “Stupid, foolish girl,” he jeered, the harsh Borginian cutting Franziska to the bone. “I never wanted you back! Why do you think I threw you in that well to begin with?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, shaking his head at her expression and stepping forward. His mighty claws uprooted the carpet. “If I let you return, you’ll get married to that prince and gain control of my kingdom. So sorry, Franziska, but I can’t let that happen.”

Franziska swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you last night,” Miles said, voice tight. Franziska couldn’t make herself face him, attention focused instead on her father. “There’s a section of the marriage contract that says you’ll become queen when you marry. An old law, nothing von Karma couldn’t change, but it would take too long—you would already be married by the time he got to it, and then he’d have no power.”

“I—you—” Franziska was aware somewhere that she was shaking, but she couldn’t make herself stop. “Papa! I never wanted to get married! You could have simply told me not to, that you would find another way to bring peace to our kingdoms!”

Her father scoffed, another strange sound. “What, and admit defeat? Bah, you know as well as I that von Karmas are not so shameful! I wanted to declare war, but you had to suggest another option.” Smoke billowed out of his nostrils once more. “You had to disappoint me.”

“N-No—” Her legs collapsed beneath her. Even as Maya reached to steady her, Franziska dropped to her knees, her father only dwarfing her more. “No, I… I could never—I was trying to make you proud, Papa, that’s all I’ve ever—!”

“And you failed!” The shout made the ceiling crumble, sheets of dust pouring down. “I tried all I could to ensure you would never return to Borginia, but your fool of a ‘little brother,’ as you so call him, had to complicate things by going after you.” He took another tremor-causing step. Out of the corner of her eye, Franziska saw Miles gasp and stumble, clutching the back of the couch for support. “So I had to take matters into my own hands, the same way I did the night I ensured Gregory Edgeworth wouldn’t get any ideas of rebellion like the foolish spouse he left behind in Borginia.”

“I knew it.” Franziska turned with a start. Miles’ face was contorted in a kind of fury she’d never before seen from him, cold and anguished. “It was you who screamed that night, von Karma—it was you who killed my father.”

“Bah. I should have killed you too—it would have been easier, even, the helpless little whelp that you were.” He laughed and bent down, face looming above Franziska. “Perhaps when I am finished with this one. What is that people say here? Two birds, one stone?” He moved his wings in something of a shrug, the right wing with less flexibility. “Whatever the case, I will be returning to Borginia with news of a horrific beast appearing to kill the runaway princess while I, helpless King Manfred von Karma, fled for my life. How does that sound to you, Franziska?”

Franziska still couldn’t move, her heart pounding and her entire body shaking as she cowered before her father’s shape. She had failed him. She had failed Borginia. What else mattered?

But the arms loosely wrapped around her had gone, and she realized a second too late it was because Maya was diving in front of her, arms spread to shield Franziska from her father. For a half-second, Franziska’s chest almost burst with raw, unbridled affection, the extent of which she should have been ashamed of.

Then the halo faded, and horror set in, but she could only hiss out a “What are you—” under Maya’s yell of, “Over my dead body!”

Franziska’s father blinked, slow and sideways. Then he flashed his teeth in a facsimile of a grin. “That can be arranged,” he decided, and before Franziska could so much as inhale, one of his massive feet shot out and enclosed Maya between his claws.

Franziska leapt to her feet, crying out as Maya screamed. The few remaining unrelated parties in the room took their cue to run while they had the chance, but Franziska was focused on Maya, trapped between her father’s claws. She grabbed her whip and struck toward his eyes—

But he lunged out of the way, easily sidestepping the whip that looked like a useless child’s toy next to his large form. Maya yelped as she swung to the side with him. Franziska swore under her breath and aimed again, but her father was already moving again, too fast for her to get a good hit in.

He dove through the window with a glass-shattering crash that made Franziska double back and throw her arms up to protect her face. She staggered, squinting at his disappearing form as he turned to look over his shouder.

“Come see the ending to this story, Franziska,” he hissed, voice tinged with laughter.

And, broken wing beating and Maya still yelling in his grasp, he clambered out and up the side of the building.

Save for the rain, too-close-for-comfort thunder, and the rumble of the tower with every step Franziska’s father took up it, it was silent. Too silent. No one spoke, no one moved.

Franziska swallowed, but there was no time to consider everything that could happen. She could not waste time thinking when she had a job to do. She was the crown princess of the royal house of von Karma. Most importantly, she wasn’t just any von Karma. She was Franziska.

She could do this.

Heart pounding, Franziska rolled up her sleeves, smoothed a few loose hairs out of her eyes, and charged after her father.

“Franziska!” came a shout from behind. “Take this.”

She turned in time to snatch Miles’ sword out of the air. While she wasn’t fond of swords—or at least not in comparison to her trusty whip—she was trained in them, and she’d always admired his sleek black-hilted rapier. It had a nice weight to it, and the shiny silver blade was polished and sharp as could be. She looked over at Miles, whose jaw was set and face hard.

A thousand things could have been said in that instant: apologies beyond measure, an I love you that had never been audibly exchanged in their lives, a promise to give King Manfred von Karma hell , even a crude don’t die.

For now, though, Franziska only nodded. Miles nodded back. They both understood all the meanings behind it.

“Your Highness,” came another voice, and Franziska stopped again. She turned to face Mia, who was standing in front of all the others from Fey & Wright—Wright wrung his hands at his waist while Pearl, tiny Pearl in her beautiful dress, stood perfectly still, looking at Franziska with a determined expression. “Bring my sister back.”

Franziska curtsied. It wasn’t a question nor a request, but still she said, “I will.”

Mia smiled and stepped back toward her girlfriend, who took her hand.

And, heart in her throat, Franziska von Karma kept running.

*

Maya wrestled against von Karma’s grip, pushing uselessly against his claws. Her vision was blurred with panic or rain—and really, that was the most unbelievable thing about all of this, that it was pouring at this time of year in Los Angeles—but still she fought to the best of her ability, wriggling as they surged toward the top of the skyscraper.

“I’m afraid it’s no use,” von Karma hissed. “Struggle all you wish, but you’ll only waste your own energy.”

“Fuck off!” Maya yelled up at him.

He didn’t react, but it at least made her feel marginally better.

The building shuddered as he kept climbing. Rubble crumbled under every step, glass and chunks of the building tumbling toward Maya, who covered her head as well as she could when being held in a dragon’s meaty paw like a captive princess being whisked away to a distant tower. Again, she felt like this would be the perfect time for a record scratch and “Yep, that’s me. You might be wondering how I got into this position. It all started two nights ago…”

When Franziska von Karma stepped into her life, Maya hadn’t predicted how much fairy tales would pervade her own life. She was really wishing she’d at least considered the potential now, because as it turned out, being in a fairy tale sucked.

As they approached the roof, a blossoming cherry tree came into view. Maya tried to get a glimpse of the sky, but the cats and dogs raining down hid it from view, and it was probably covered in dark stormclouds beneath. She clenched her eyes shut and hung on for dear life. Just as von Karma landed on solid ground with a thump, a cry rang out below—

“Stop!”

A choir of angels didn’t burst out in song, but they may as well have for the rush of emotion that swelled within Maya. “Franziska!” she gasped.

Von Karma’s head swiveled back, and a laugh boomed through him. “The brave little princess coming to her damsel in distress’ rescue. Come to finish me off, Franziska?”

Just barely visible on the ground behind them, Franziska raised a shining rapier. “I wish I didn’t have to,” she said, “but yes. Today, Papa, your reign ends.”

Lightning cracked against the dark sky, illuminating von Karma’s brilliant silver scales and Franziska’s figure, so small in comparison. Maya’s heart pounded as she watched sparks drift through the air.

Then von Karma threw his head back with a deep noise, half-laugh and half-roar. His tail slammed onto the ground beside Franziska—she was almost thrown off her feet, but she dove to the side just in time. Maya’s scream was lost to the wind and rain.

“You’ll have to keep up with me, then,” called von Karma.

He leapt forward toward the antenna stretching up from the observation deck and began to climb it, clinging tight to the spire. Maya hung on tight to his claws. His grip tightened around her in turn, momentarily squeezing the breath out of her.

But just as the rest of the building had, the antenna shuddered under his weight and tilted to the side. Maya desperately looked down toward Franziska. She couldn’t quite meet her eyes from here, but she knew she would have seen the same thing.

As von Karma reached the very top, hundreds of thousands of feet above the city, he let out a triumphant roar. Maya’s stomach turned. She wanted to shut her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to. As much as she hated this being the circumstances for it, it sure was cool to be this high up, though she couldn’t make much out in the darkness.

Von Karma held onto the antenna with one foot, rather loosely—another still held Maya in a vice grip and gestured about as he spoke in Borginian. Whatever he said sounded more sinister than ever. Below, Franziska stopped, sword raised.

“Franzy!” Maya yelled with the last of her breath.

It caught von Karma, who teetered further to the side, as much off guard as it did Franziska, who shouted “My name is Franziska!” at the same time she flung the sword as high as she could, striking von Karma right in the foot wrapped around the antenna.

Bingo. He gasped in pain, bending back—

And that was what tipped him over, the antenna finally giving way with a groan and splintering away from the rest of the building. As von Karma slipped backward, his claw flew open.

Maya tumbled from his grasp and hurtled straight toward the rooftop. It wasn’t that far a fall, but she couldn’t see, and at the rate she was falling, she was going to break at least a couple of bones even if she lived. She yelped, limbs akimbo—and quickly tucked them in toward her torso, compressing her form as she continued to fall, squeezing her eyes shut and bracing herself for the impact—

But it never came.

Instead, Maya came to a solid halt in a pair of equally solid arms. One gloved hand supported her legs and the other rested on her back. On instinct, Maya wrapped her arms around her savior’s neck, eyes fluttering open. She still hurt, but at least she wasn’t a Maya pancake.

“Is this a habit of yours?” Franziska asked with a smirk. At Maya’s dazed look, she added, “Falling off of things?”

Maya laughed, breathless, and tightened her grip around Franziska’s neck. “Only when you’re here to catch me.”

Their joy was interrupted by a scream from the side, familiar but more horrifying than any others of von Karma’s. Maya’s head jerked toward the sound. Von Karma was falling parallel to the skyscraper, broken wing flapping uselessly, claws scrabbling toward the side of the building but unable to find purchase. And he fell down, down, down—

And there was another flash of pale blue light that consumed eveyrthing, and Maya turned away with a gasp, eyes slamming shut. For that single, drawn-out moment, everything stopped. Maya clung to Franziska’s neck and Franziska held Maya tight against her. In the distance, the prolonged scream echoed.

And then, just like that, it faded, as did the light.

Everything was silent. Even the rain was gone, the storm dissipating as soon as it had arrived.

Maya opened her eyes. The sky was unclouded and bright despite the time, the moon beaming down on them from far above and surrounded on all sides by stars.

Franziska set Maya down, achingly gentle, and turned to look off the edge of the building. Maya, too, peered down. The street below was—aside from being covered with the shattered pieces of the skyscraper antenna—coated with a sprawling cloud of bright silver dust that seemed to glow against the darkness. It was the same color as von Karma’s scales.

That ruined several stories in Maya’s mind. Turning into magical dust that would probably leave a stain on a busy city street was so much cooler than any fate authors of fairy tales could come up with.

With a soft sigh, Franziska reached up to touch her necklace. “Goodbye, Papa,” she murmured. “I’m sorry that this is the way things had to be.”

She sat beside Maya and tucked her knees up to her chest. For another moment, they were silent, and Maya looked away from the cocktail of emotions to unpack on Franziska’s face to look up at the stars and the moon instead. She hadn’t done this in years. The sky here was dimmer than back in Kurain, where in summer the stars were clearer than anywhere else nearby, but it was still beautiful.

“So,” said Maya.

Franziska made a faint noise of acknowledgement but didn’t look up.

Maya took that to mean she was listening and considered it an opportunity to dive right into things. “My kiss didn’t wake you from a death-like slumber or anything, so does that mean we shouldn’t be together?” She winced at how childish she sounded. A younger Pearl saying special someones flickered through her mind.

Franziska didn’t say anything for a second, then she scoffed. “True love is for fools. I don’t care if we aren’t soulmates or something to that effect, Maya Fey,” she said. “I am interested in you, and…” She paused, flushing. “You’re interested in me, correct?”

Maya, mouth parted, nodded. To think they could’ve just had an actual conversation last night and most of this would have been avoided.

A smile crossed Franziska’s face—not an arrogant smirk but a real smile, delicate and almost shy. “Then we’ll be all right.”

“All right,” Maya echoed. She leaned closer, resting her hand on Franziska’s cheek like she had the night before. “It might not be true love’s kiss, but—can I kiss you again? It’ll be better when you’re fully conscious, I’m pretty sure.”

Franziska rolled her eyes and, without further ado, pressed her lips to Maya’s.

She was a much better kisser when she wasn’t unconscious. She was warm and lively and real, and Maya leaned as close into her as she could, wrapping her arms around her neck again. Franziska smoothed back some of Maya’s still-damp hair, fingers lingering around Maya’s ear—and butterflies stirred in Maya’s stomach.

It was chaste and shorter than Maya had expected. Franziska pulled away—presumably to breathe—after a few crisp seconds, and their noses bumped. Franziska’s hand snapped back to rub hers with a grimace. An apology was halfway out of Maya’s mouth despite her nose being squashed too when their eyes met.

And then, just like that, they were laughing.

It was uncontrollable once it started, and Maya only laughed harder at the sound of Franziska’s genuine laugh, which was muscial but unconventional and interspersed with undignified snorts. Their breathless laughter filled the silence as they leaned into each other for support. Like that conversation back in People Park, Maya wasn’t even sure what she was laughing about—the ridiculousness of this entire situation, their awkward first kiss, Franziska’s expression, the fact that she was somehow still alive—or if she was laughing about anything in particular.

Sometimes it was good just to laugh. Maya got the impression Franziska hadn’t been able to laugh as openly as this in a long time.

When she’d recovered—out of necessity more so than anything else, because her ribs ached—Maya came to an unfortunate realization. “Ah, shit, you still have to go back to Borginia tonight.”

Franziska’s expression sobered. “Yes. Now more than… ever…” She trailed off, and something akin to horror crossed her features. “I’m the queen now.”

“Um.” This seemed like a good thing, but the way Franziska said it made it seem like her father had just—oh. Like her dog had just died, maybe. “Congrats?” Maya said tentatively.

“No, no, you don’t understand.” Franziska dragged her hands through her hair, mussing up the braided headband. “My kingdom is in the middle of peace negotiations with several other countries right now. I can only imagine my father’s plans soured our relations considerably, to say nothing of all of the goddamn paperwork and plain work that will be involved in handling his death and my crowning. And I still have my betrothal to handle. While processing this.” She gestured to the stain formerly known as Manfred von Karma, then buried her head in her hands. “Maya Fey, I am legitimately considering throwing Borginia to the wolves and remaining in your world forever.”

Maya patted Franziska’s shoulder and muttered, “There, there”—it was the only thing she could think to do, never having had to comfort someone in this situation. “As cool as that would be, I don’t think it’s the smartest thing to do for either yourself or Borginia. I mean, you are its princ—queen,” she corrected with a cringe. “Okay, that’s weird. Can I just keep calling you a princess?”

“Yes, please,” said Franziska, muffled by her palms.

“Okay. So, you’re its princess—and with your father, um, gone, you have a real say in what’s happening,” continued Maya. “And I think you owe it to everyone—especially yourself and your brother—to tell the truth about what’s happening. And figure out what you can do now that your dad is gone.”

“His legacy will still remain.”

“But if your legacy outshines his, then you can oust him from the history books!” Maya paused. “Do you have history books in Borginia? Never mind, not important. My point is, you have the chance to make some real changes now, Franziska!” she said, bumping her shoulder against Franziska’s. “And you’ll hopefully get the time to carry them all out. You could even figure out a real solution to the whole Khura’in thing.”

Franziska lowered her hands from her face, seeming a bit calmer but still not looking directly at Maya. “Even if that means not seeing you for some time?”

“Honestly, I could wait an embarrassing amount of time for you.” Maya reached over to cup Franziska’s cheek. Franziska tilted her head into her hand, eyes closing. “Especially if I know you’re doing really good, really important things in a whole other universe. If you’re still willing to try, I think we can work things out.”

Franziska considered her for a moment. Then she took Maya’s wrist in her hand and raised Maya’s hand to her lips to press a gentle kiss into Maya’s knuckles like a fairy tale prince. Maya’s face burned up to the roots of her hair. She was pretty sure she made an embarrassing noise, but it was either ignored or stowed away as blackmail material with Franziska’s smile.

“I’m more than willing.”

“Cool,” breathed Maya. “Hey, when you get back, we can go on a real, actual date. No cousins or co-workers required.”

Franziska’s smile widened. She nodded, then frowned. “Not to that foolish pizza restaurant, though. Or preferably any pizza restaurant.”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Franziska dropped her hand, but Maya refused to let go—she seized Franziska’s hand and intertwined their fingers, letting them rest on the roof between them. Franziska’s eyes widened, but she didn’t protest.

They sat in silence again, holding hands and looking up at the stars. There were plenty of things to be done, both here and back in Borginia, but right now, they could just take a few minutes to breathe. To exist without any sort of deadlines or duties. To exist, above all else, together.

“…We should go back and make sure your co-workers and my little brother haven’t assumed we’re dead.”

“I think they got the gist from your dad flying a million miles per hour past their floor, but yeah, let’s go, my legs are starting to cramp up.”

*

“Well, this is it.”

Franziska, staring down into the sewer that she and Miles had pushed the heavy cover off of, agreed with the words but not their meaning. “Must I truly climb back into this?”

There was no question that she had to. This was for sure the hole she had climbed out of, as it was barred off with a few cones they’d also moved aside. Faint beams of blue light, not unlike the kind she’d seen in the well, streamed up from the pitch blackness, more visible than ever against the dark, empty street.

In contrast to two days ago, there was no activity around them, not even any bright lights on the sides of buildings. It seemed that whatever Franziska’s father had done had wiped out what Maya called electricity in the city. Everything as far as the eye could see was still and calm. (Well, except the distant silver glow even visible from here. Franziska had gathered some of the magic residue to leave by the inevitable grave for her father and make her story more credible than his would have been, but there was still enough to make it as bright as the stars above.)

If she was being honest, Franziska missed the chaos a little. It was at least manageable in comparison to tonight’s mortal peril.

And were things wilder, she would have a distraction from… this.

Miles sighed and rested a hand on his sword, which was sheathed after he’d recovered it—miraculously unharmed—from the streets. “Yes, Franziska, it is the portal between our realms on this side. I climbed into it when I was nine, I climbed out of it yesterday, and we will climb back into it within the next hour if I’m lucky. It isn’t like it actually leads to a sewer.”

“Well, it smells like one.”

“Franziska, Your Majesty?”

Terrified as she was at the prospect of being queen, she couldn’t deny she liked the way that sounded. “Yes?”

“Get in the manhole or I will push you in.”

“That is no way to treat your queen, Miles Edgeworth,” she chided, “nor your big sister.”

“Why must you be so difficult,” Miles muttered in Borginian.

Franziska crossed her arms and elected to ignore it. “Fine, but just know that I hate doing this.”

“Noted. You’re not the only one. Can we leave now? I’ve no intentions of returning to this universe any time soon.” Despite saying so, there was something almost childishly eager in his eyes.

“Neither do I, of course,” said Franziska, and they shared a brief nod of understanding. “All right. In we go—”

“Franziska! Wait!”

Franziska turned, startled by but oh-so-thankful for the delay. Several feet behind them stood none other than Maya Fey, out of breath and doubled over with her hands planted on her knees.

“Did you—” Miles tried, to no avail, to cover his shock with some semblance of a composure. Franziska delighted in watching his foolish attempts. “Did you run here, Miss Fey?”

“Yes, and I really regret it!” Maya coughed, choked on it, and coughed some more, holding up a hand. Then she cleared her throat. “I wanted to really say goodbye. And also Nick told me to tell you goodbye ‘cause he didn’t get a real chance either, Prince Edgeworth.”

“I’m a knight, not a prince. But, er…” Miles echoed Maya’s cough, infinitely faker. “Tell him I said goodbye, too.”

“Will do! Can I borrow your sister for a minute?”

Miles politely turned his back. Franziska felt no qualms about shooting him a glare before she approached Maya much the way one might approach a timid deer (not that she would know; deer were never timid around her). Maya straightened. For a second, they stood in—for the first time tonight—uncomfortable silence, sizing each other up.

Then Maya spoke. “Are you really going to come back?”

“Of course. A von Karma always—” Franziska pursed her lips. “I always keep my promises. So I will see you before long… Maya.”

The way Maya beamed made up for the mortification, but Franziska still spun on her heel almost immediately to hide her ear-to-ear blush. Miles looked over his shoulder with a distant smirk. Franziska silenced his inevitable mocking with another glare before marching back to the sewer-portal.

“Bye, Franziska,” Maya called. “I’ll see you soon! You too, Sir Edgeworth.”

“Ah—yes. Farewell for now, Miss Fey.” Miles’ smile turned into something softer, and he turned it toward Franziska as he lowered his voice. “I was going to suggest you go first, being a lady and my queen at that, but I thought you would take the opportunity to procrastinate longer. Ergo, I shall lead the way. Do make sure to actually follow, Franziska.”

He patted her shoulder and, before Franziska could protest, had climbed down into the sewer and was gone with nothing more than a subtle flash of blue light. Asshole.

Now that he was gone, there was nothing more for Franziska here, at least not now. There would be soon, after she settled things in Borginia and could reasonably return to spend some time with the people she’d met.

But now, her duty was to her kingdom and what was left of her family. Her real family, not her flesh and blood.

Franziska took a deep breath, steeling herself.

And, with one last glance over her shoulder at Maya’s encouraging smile, she jumped down after her brother.

Notes:

and they all lived...... oh, wait, there's still more!?!?!! oh dang!!!

thank you all, as always, for reading -- i'll see you on friday for the epilogue! i'll do most of my rambling in the endnotes of that one, but this has been such a joy to write and thanks y'all for joining me on the ride! as always, comments & kudos are super appreciated <3

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Chapter 10: Epilogue (The Happily Ever After Turnabout)

Five years later…

Prosecutor Franziska von Karma was going to have a perfect day.

At the moment, however, it was far from that. Right now, she was pacing across an all-too-familiar room, heartbeat pumping in her ears like an incessant and arrhythmic drum. Though dressed, she noticed pieces of shoddy craftsmanship in her clothing—not even almost fully crafted by her, to her dismay, but she was still choosing to believe the majority of the errors weren’t her doing—every time she glanced away from the index cards she was flipping through with one hand. Her steps had begun wearing a hole in the floor and she didn’t even care.

She glanced at the clock. With a muttered swear, she started going through the cards faster, tapping her folded whip in an absent pattern against her wrist with the other hand. She didn’t have enough time to panic, but she had too much to justify not panicking. Everything was wrong and she would not be judged for reacting to it, thank you very much.

This kind of panic, after all, was normal—even expected—for wedding days.

“Franziska,” said Miles, momentarily interrupting her inward spiral, “would you please sit down and sit still?”

Franziska cracked her whip on reflex more than anything else. He didn’t even blink. “You expect me to be calm now of all times?” she demanded regardless. “I’m doing my best to ensure this day is perfect. Be silent and let me work, Miles.”

To her dismay, though, she knew it wouldn’t ever be perfect. This time around, she knew—and loved more than words could say, though she’d be remiss to admit this in mixed company—her spouse-to-be, and more importantly wanted to marry her. Still, that wouldn’t be enough to make perfection an attainable goal. She had grown to realize that true perfection was a pipe dream, a hollow ideal, and though she would never outrun the perfectionism she’d lived off of for her entire life, she’d managed to overcome some of it.

…But still, she’d aimed to make this day as perfect as possible. And yet here she was, a nervous wreck with sweat in uncomfortable places, a belated grudge against the cupcakes they would be serving at the reception, and badly-written vows with no time to alter them beyond a few haphazard shuffles of words. Who had written this drivel? she wondered with a scowl before coming to the unfortunate recollection that she had.

She sighed and tapped her foot. At least it wouldn’t be a public spectacle—only those she and Maya Fey trusted most would be in attendance, not foreign dignitaries or complete strangers, since Franziska was no longer the princess nor queen of Borginia.

Only a couple of years ago, she had made the biggest decision of all as the reigning queen of Borginia: The Kingdom of Borginia would cease existence as the Kingdom of Borginia. It would not be ruled by the von Karma family, nor would it have the same form of government as it once did. People would rule rather than kings and queens.

Greater changes in Borginia were required than could be accomplished by the short reign of a queen whose heart wasn’t in her home country anymore, after all.

As such, Adrian Andrews, a former baroness and one of Franziska’s former ladies-in-waiting, was appointed as the first leader of the Republic of Borginia. Though nervous, it was clear she was the best choice for the position. She’d upheld the agreements Franziska had made during her rule, including a peace treaty with Khura’in that Franziska had arranged after hours of negotiations with King Dhurke and his son—and Franziska’s ex-fiancé, the ex made clear after a separate agreement—Nahyuta, who’d turned out to be the most beautiful and most insufferable man Franziska had ever met.

Adrian had always been one of Franziska’s only true friends here, so Franziska was more than proud. Though Adrian was busy with her many duties and family, the two had managed to stay on good terms—good enough for Adrian to lend Franziska the castle (which had become a historical landmark in absentia of the royal family) for today’s events and be invited as well.

In the meantime, Franziska and Miles had adjusted—readjusted, in Miles’ case—to their lives in Los Angeles. They’d made headlines as a pair of up and coming prosecuting and defense attorneys who happened to be siblings; Miles in particular, due to his father’s career in law. It pleased Franziska to no end that her own father’s name meant next to nothing in this world, that she could create a new legacy for the von Karmas in both Borginia and California.

Now, Franziska worked under Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye, who’d been rumored to be the next attorney general for some time now. She seemed content to keep her current job, though. While Franziska and Lana weren’t as close as Franziska had grown with other associates of Fey & Wright, they got along well enough, and they could always bond over what fools the vast majority of the other prosecutors were.

On the other hand, Miles was invited to Fey & Wright with open arms—and he turned down the invitation in favor of working for his father’s former office. Edgeworth Law Offices was more lively than it had been in years, Miles’ senior partner told Franziska the one time they’d met. She had neutral feelings on him: Far too touchy-feely (with emphasis on touchy) but had the right idea when it came to making fun of Miles (he’d made a joke about Miles’ boyfriend’s firm being their biggest competitor, which wasn’t funny in execution but had potential).

The ghosts of the past would never leave, but for the first time in her life—and it was her life now, finally—Franziska could say she was happy.

“You’ve read your vows over dozens of times,” Miles cut in, seeming to have picked up on what she was reading by now. Or simply bothered by her standing still and staring into space for such a long period of time. “You must have them down by now.”

She’d spoken too soon about being happy. “I could recite them in my sleep.” At least Maya was a heavy enough sleeper that she wouldn’t notice even if Franziska did end up doing that. “But they aren’t perfect, let alone good.”

“Must every little detail be perfect?”

“These are my vows,” said Franziska, incredulous. “As in what I will read to pledge my love to Maya Fey before dozens of people.”

Miles sighed. “There’ll be less than a single dozen of us, Franziska.”

Franziska’s whip cracked, again on instinct. “You defense attorneys and your semantics! That is not the point!”

The room fell silent, still shaking a little from Franziska’s whip. Miles looked at her with something like resigned expectation in his face, and after a moment, Franziska lowered her hackles the slightest amount.”

“I suppose I’m simply—a little nervous,” she admitted.

“You’ll be just fine, Franziska,” Miles said, mouth twitching into the ghost of a smile. “Perfect, if you will—”

“I will not.”

Miles jolted a little at her harsh snap but quickly recovered, sighing and shaking his head. He hesitated, looking very conflicted for a beat, then crossed the room and laid his hands on Franziska’s shoulders, bending so they were eye-to-eye. “Do you honestly believe something will go wrong?” Franziska opened her mouth, but he wasn’t done talking. “Something more substantial than your vows not being up to snub, or you not actually liking the cupcakes Miss Fey chose?”

“No,” Franziska said after another silent moment, averting her gaze. “But there is a difference between something going wrong and something being wrong from the start, which would be the case in both of those situations.”

“Exactly. If anything is already wrong, then there’s no time to change it by now—and it probably wasn’t your or Miss Fey’s fault to begin with.” Seeming just as uncomfortable with the forced physical contact as she, Miles dropped his hands and backed up. “Besides, something being wrong is fine, is it not? You know better than anyone that true perfection is impossible.”

Franziska squeezed her shoulder. “You aren’t wrong.”

“Is it that difficult to say that I’m right?”

“You aren’t Wright yet,” she muttered, and was immediately horrified at herself. Maya must have been rubbing off on her.

Miles gave her a horrified look of his own, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of the joke itself or it coming from her mouth. “Nor will I ever be. If I ever change my surname, especially to that man’s, assume it’s a desperate cry for help and smuggle me out of the country.”

“Hmph. Just as well.” Franziska paused and tilted her head. “You didn’t deny ever being in a situation where you would be expected to take his surname.”

“Wh—it’s your wedding day, how and why are you trying to eke a confession out of me?!”

Franziska’s whip cracked. “Not so loud!” she hissed through her teeth. “I still have a headache from my bachelorette party.”

Miles paled at the mention. “Oh God, don’t remind me. I can’t believe Miss Fey talked you into that.”

“Yes, well, let us not discuss it further,” Franziska said with a shudder.

Miles muttered something that she thought was an agreement, but she didn’t bother getting any closer or asking him to repeat. Her eyes flickered up to the clock again.

Damn, she thought, can this not move any faster?

She decided not to waste what time she had left. She stuffed the index card holding her vows into her pocket—she did have them memorized, after all, and if all else failed she could improvise—and cleared her throat. When she spoke, it was in a much quieter voice. “Will I ever stop feeling like this?”

“Like what?” Miles asked in a mild tone.

“Like—” Franziska huffed and folded her arms. “Like this is too good to be true. Like all of this time, I have been dreaming and any moment I will wake to find myself wed to Sahdmadhi and none the wiser about my papa’s—well, about my papa.”

He glanced at her with widened eyes. “Is that what your insistence on this day being perfect is about?”

“I will not deny that my—my perfectionism to begin with plays a role in it, but…” She trailed off, curling her hand into her sleeve and gripping so hard that, were it made of lesser materials, it would tear. “If I am to wake and find that the past five years have all been a product of my imagination, I would at least like something perfect to remember it by.”

For a long few moments, the silence almost tangible, Miles was silent. “I can’t say for certain whether you will stop feeling like that. Likely not.” He winced as Franziska started. “Ah—that was too harsh, wasn’t it? Sorry for that, but it is the truth. You will likely never be completely rid of your doubts.”

Franziska’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your point, Miles Edgeworth?” She lashed her whip against the ground for emphasis.

“The point is—” Miles cleared his throat. “No matter what, all you can truly do is have faith and hold your head up high,” he told her, straightening his posture with a crooked smile. “You are Franziska von Karma, are you not?

“I—! Indeed. Indeed I am.” Franziska sighed and glanced at herself in the mirror, which she’d been trying to avoid all morning. She looked—fine. Not perfect, though might have been warped by her currently poor self-image, but fine—and that, she decided, was all right. She tilted her head up, proud, and squared her shoulders. “I am Franziska von Karma,” she said to her reflection. “I am not perfect, I never have been, and… and I do not need to be. This day will be fine regardless of whether it is perfect or not.” She forced a soft smile, then shot a sharp look over her shoulder. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Miles?”

“It’s what you needed to hear.”

Franziska glared. “Wipe that foolish look on your face, Miles Edgeworth. I refuse to let you look that smug in the photographs of my wedding.”

Miles grimaced at the very mention. “I still can’t believe you hired Lotta Hart.”

“As deeply foolish and obnoxious a woman as she is,” said Franziska, “her photography is decent.” She shrugged. “And besides, I have my secret weapon.”

“I’m not sure it counts as secret if it’s visibly on your person at all times,” said Miles, eyeing the holster she was sliding her whip back into now.

“Fine. I have a weapon.”

Miles nodded, sage, and leaned back against the wall. Though it would still be several minutes before their presence was required, they lapsed into a companionable, comfortable, and productive silence. Franziska took what time she had left to fix up the few problems with her outfit she could tackle rather than vandalizing her vows again (then again, they could have been considered poorly-done graffiti as they were), and Miles didn’t object to her furious sewing.

Outside came the unmistakable sounds of a carriage pulling up. Franziska hadn’t heard it in some time—she didn’t think she missed it, even if cars were infinitely more terrifying in a variety of ways.

“Time to go,” said Miles, and Franziska followed without a word.

The ride over was just as silent as their last few minutes in the bridal suite, but now there was a distinct edge to it. Franziska slipped her whip from her holster and wrung it in her lap while Miles leaned his head against the glass window. He didn’t try to speak, perhaps wary of Franziska’s whip. Either way, Franziska appreciated it.

Both too soon and not soon enough, they were pulling up to the foot of the castle.

“Thank you, sir,” Franziska told the driver as she exited, also sparing the horses a few dignified nods. They didn’t do much more than whinny and scuff their hooves back, but she thought they understood the sentiment.

The carriage pulled away, leaving Franziska and Miles to stand like ants before the looming castle. It hadn’t been that long since she’d seen it, at least relatively, but it seemed so much larger after what time had passed—though she knew every corridor, every secret passageway, the emptiness made something inside her hurt too.

If it was this much more intimidating to Franziska, she could only imagine how it seemed to Maya. Then again, Maya had seen the Khura’inese palace (she’d officially been in Khura’in as Franziska’s consort, though she hadn’t been then, but unofficially, she’d been investigating spirit channeling and trying to figure out why it existed in her world and among her family. That had somehow resulted in Maya being arrested for murder and then almost kidnapped), so perhaps it hadn’t been as impressive as it could have been.

Miles held out his arm. A sour wave of nostalgia swept over Franziska, but she took it without protest.

From within the castle, soft violin music began. On the other side of the castle, Maya was beginning her approach to that cue, Mia on one side and Phoenix on the other. Franziska closed her eyes and pictured Maya at the (mostly metaphorical, for the castle had no such ingrained structure and they hadn’t gotten to do much to it for the purposes of the wedding) altar. Her dazzling smile; the scrunched edges of her shining eyes; the beautiful plum dress Franziska had only gotten the barest glimpse of because, in Maya’s words, it was bad luck, no matter what Franziska tried to say about that only being the bride herself. The entire room lighting up with her presence.

And then Franziska stopped and remembered: She didn’t have to settle for her imagination. All she had to do was walk in, and Maya would be there and turn to her with that grin, and—

Everything would be fine.

“Ready?” Miles asked.

“I have been ready for some time now,” said Franziska.

Expression not changing at all, Miles elbowed her in the ribs hard enough to make her wince. She resisted elbowing back or stepping on his foot because, since they were walking up the stairs, any move would send them tumbling back into the dirt, which would ruin her clothes. Oh well, she had time to get revenge.

Franziska couldn’t predict the future. She couldn’t say that everything would be fine forever, nor even that today would go well. But right now, in this moment, as far as Franziska was concerned, everything was just perfect.

Who cared about the vows, only a handful of words among the thousands she had to have spoken to Maya by now? About the amount of sweat on her palms, hidden by her gloves? About the cupcakes, an easily-forgotten dessert that she didn’t have to eat?

Not Franziska. None of it mattered. Superficial perfection meant nothing when she already had the real thing—true happiness, an intricate web of a family (broken and strange but hers, by choice and not blood), and, against all odds, true love. Waiting inside the castle she’d once thought of as her home and now seemed so distant was the woman she’d grown to love. The one who would, as soon as she walked in, become her wife.

Franziska didn’t need to be perfect in every way. She already was in all the ways that counted.

She squeezed Miles’ arm once more and, together, they stepped inside toward Franziska’s happily ever after.

Notes:

and that's it, folks!!! thank you all so much for reading and hopefully enjoying!! i definitely had a lot of fun writing this, so your support has meant a lot!

as for what's next -- i don't plan on writing any more long-form ace attorney fics, but i do have a couple of oneshots in mind 8-) though it might take me a while to get them out bc i start school again soon. i also don't have anything big planned for this verse, but i would like to return to some of the bg relationships and scenes from the timeskip between the last chapter and this epilogue someday, so stay tuned for that i guess?? (if it. ever happens. *sweats in procrastination*)

anyway! thank you again! stay cool and don't forget to love each other <3

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