Chapter Text
Catania froze, soft blue eyes wide as she stared, paralyzed, at her tea.
It was freshly served alongside the rest of the afternoon tea spread, steam rising lazily from the cup she clutched between a pair of soft little hands. Her father sat across the table from her, gracefully sipping his own drink and recounting a story he'd heard from one of the ministers, his crisp voice filling the air. The servants had all vacated the room after bringing their food, leaving behind guards who stood at alert at the entrances, trying valiantly to give them some semblance of privacy. This was usual for tea time. Well, it was usual for tea time as of a month ago.
Except for the tea.
Don't misunderstand, it was the same sweet rosehip, fennel and lime blend they served to accompany the various little fluffle-muffins and flutter-cakes unless they requested something different. It was her favorite, a comfortable part of her routine that she'd grown to adore. She loved the deep ruby like color and the way it turned a pretty pink the more she emptied the cup. She loved the slightly tangy floral scent it had and the little kick the lemon gave the overall candy like taste it usually had. It wasn't just that, though. She was fascinated by the way her eyes looked almost purple when she gazed at herself in its reflection, it reminded her of her own bedchamber walls and she'd made a little game of catching her own expression in her cup, almost like seeing herself in a split second candid photo.
Right, that was the problem wasn't it.
Looking right back at her from the depths of her cup was not her. They were tinted with the red of the tea so the colors were all dark and red hued but the warm, upturned, almost cat like eyes that widened in surprise at the sight of her were absolutely not her own. The part and texture of the hair was wrong, the bow of the lips were wrong, the shape of the face was wrong, wrong, wrong !
This was not her reflection.
Catania swallowed thickly, mind whirring in fright. What was this? She didn't dare move a muscle, lest whatever or whoever this was rise from behind the fragrant steam and attack her. Across the table her father carried on, no doubt noticing her silence and trying in vain to get some kind of reaction from her. She should respond, tell him what was in her cup, who was gazing at her in rapidly growing wonder but instead she sat quietly, back straight, wings bent and head bowed.
The room devolved into silence.
It wasn't uncommon for her to go quiet these days. Sometimes talking was an impossible task and she couldn't bring herself to really try. The healers said it was a result of the ordeal's stress, that it was something she could only work on gradually and hopefully overcome with time. Her father had been understanding outside of a few slip ups of frustrated bullheadedness. He always meant well, of this she had no doubt, she understood he was just scared and worried for her. It wasn't normal to freeze or go quiet when you had been seemingly doing..well not fine exactly but managing, getting better.
Back to how she was.
This wasn't like that but she bets it looks the exact same. It was probably the only reason he hasn't already destroyed her cup, saved her from this scary staring contest and made sure it never happened again. Her father was overprotective of her, his only daughter and heir but doubly so since her encounter with..with The Gwillion . She shivered at the thought, feeling the deadweight of her healing wings on her back.
The surface rippled with the shift and the face along with it, features warping oddly amidst the disturbance. The expression it now wore distorting even more as it scrunched in confusion. Catania could only wonder what kind of face she was making in turn as she shivered again. If she was even a little braver she wouldn't be stuck as she is right now, frozen like a frog in winter. Sitting in place as danger comes for her again.
It was beyond frustrating and she could feel tears slowly gathering in her eyes, steadily blurring her vision. Her breath hitched as she flushed, heart thundering. The figure moved and she jerked back with a startled cry, spilling tea on the table, the flit-biscuit she'd been eating and her silk skirts. She barely registered the sting of heat, the fright of her father and the urgent jolt into action of the guards. She didn't even notice the cup being pried from her now stained hands, the rush of chaos that ensued as servants and guards swarmed back into the room, the healer being called or the sobs she was being gently hushed through. The cup was gone, her tea was gone.
The face was not.
Until it was.
In the end she had been so exhausted she was carried to bed immediately, falling asleep in her father's arms as they flew through the crystallite lit halls before even making it to her chambers and missing the chance to tell anyone of the face. After waking up the next day, the shame at having caused such a commotion over what was likely her mind playing tricks on her made her keep it to herself.
Especially when, at the next few tea sessions, the snacks were served with juice.