[January 24, 2043]

There were golden sheep on the lawn of Otter Manor.

The sight made Cal pause, one foot out the door. He had his phone in one hand and a shopping bag in the other, but the unusual sight made him pause. Ezekiel and Sean were sitting on the green grass, their immense forms of golden wool shining in the sunlight like gold. They studied him with ponderous dark eyes, but, letting out large sighs of air, they lowered their heads back onto the lawn.

Clearly not delighted to see me, thought Cal, but they can't voice their reluctance under the circumstances, I suppose.

The reason for this was currently waving her hand in the air, beckoning Cal over, her red hair swinging freely around his shoulders and a huge grin on her face.

"Cal, look! I have done it! I have summoned my darlings with my flute!" Aina shouted.

She was sitting down on the grass as well, wearing a strapless lavender dress that fully bared her pale shoulders and arms. It was the most skin Cal had ever seen her show — while the gallery of dresses Aina had worn over the last few months were always gorgeously made and suited her well, they always leaned into more conservative styles.

It shouldn't have changed her appearance all that much, but somehow it did. Despite Aina's huge smile and clear jovial mood, the sight of her thin arms and pronounced collarbone made Cal a little uncomfortable, and he instinctively touched his own throat. Aina had never directly said the word "anorexia" when she had confided to him about the reasons for her finicky eating habits (likely, she didn't even know the term), but this was the first time Cal could see that knowledge reflected in Aina's own body.

All those times, in the weeks after we met, when she would turn her nose up at the food I made or would eat only a little, and say some nonsense like it was "not fit for a princess" or "peasant food not worthy of being touched"...

Cal swallowed, trying to maintain a neutral expression as he approached Aina, and as he did, he noticed the other, much more obvious change in her appearance, and broke his cool.

"You're wearing glasses!" he exclaimed, in lieu of a greeting.

Aina stuck out her chin arrogantly as if posing for an invisible photographer. "Ah, so your powers of discernment are still present, peasant! Good." She turned her head and called over to Bridget, who was about a dozen feet away and sitting against Sean with the exact stance as her princess. Ram was also there, pressing her cheek against Sean's warm, soft wool with a look of contentment on her face. "Bridget, do you see? Cal here has been stunned by my transformative beauty!"

"I see, my lady," Bridget called over. Though she was wearing her dark-brown Napoleonic-style uniform as always, with the hem of the dress gathered around her boots, Bridget seemed completely laid-back. Her tall, outstretched form was putting its full weight against the sheep, and her arms stretched out away from her, gloveless hands resting on the wool. "You have to remember that Mr. Cal has not seen you in this state before. Excuse his surprise."

The spectacles were surprisingly fashionable, in a modern sense, for an item presumably crafted in another world. The frame appeared to be constructed of some intricately carved copper filament, where Cal could barely see that little sheep horns had been designed onto the material. The lenses of the spectacles were rounded and slightly convex, an effect which made Aina's green eyes look somewhat bigger than they would typically, eyes which were now studying him with excitement as if waiting for an appraisal.

Cute, Cal admitted to himself, it's a different sort of impression than her usual brash, ostentatious kind of beauty.

Out loud, he said: "You look different."

"Why, thank you, Cal," Aina responded cooly, raising an eyebrow. "Once again, you intuitively know how to make a young woman of royal stature feel appreciated. You, on the other hand, look precisely the same as you always do."

"Why, thank you."

She patted the grass beside her. "Sit with me, Cal, please."

Cal had already opened his mouth to reject her — he had, after all, only left the manor because he intended to do some light shopping for dinner later, but the word "please" made him stop. He glanced at Ezekiel, asking silently for permission, and when the giant sheep only blinked slowly and closed his eyes, Cal took it as a sign he wouldn't be scolded later for disrupting Ezekiel's "daughter". He sat down.

Aina was still studying him behind her spectacles. She was close to him, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, but if this suggestion of physical contact bothered her, she made no indication. Instead, she chewed on her lip for a moment, then remarked: "I take it back, you do look a little different, though the change is gradual rather than immediate. Your hair is now quite long, though it was already long when we met. See?" She gestured with a finger. "It's beginning to curl slightly, where it touches your shoulders."

"Oh," Cal said, not knowing what else to say. "Yeah, I suppose. I haven't had it cut since I got here. I'm actually used to having it a lot longer than it is even right now. It went down to my hips at one point. My sister gave me a haircut before I arrived at Otter House. She said it was long overdue."

Aina laughed softly. "By your description, it sounds like she was right. You must have been quite wild-looking." Then she paused thoughtfully. "Although, such a style could work on you if that excess of hair were to be properly combed and washed. You have quite fine lashes for a man. You are quite feminine-looking, have you been told that before?"

"Are you making fun of me?" Cal asked, confused by this train of thought. "Is this another way of telling me I don't conform to your standards?"

"No," answered Aina, simply. "Actually, I quite prefer the androgynous — people who aren't so masculine or so feminine in appearance. I find that ambiguity that lies between interesting." She let this statement hang in the air before continuing. "For a long time, I've wondered what I would look like with short hair, like the sort that Mel has. I asked my mother once. But she said 'nay!', of course. It wouldn't be appropriate for a princess of Luvinia to scamper along with hair like a clerical page."

Aina seemed to be considering other things entirely as she spoke, for the words sounded slow and distant, yet they kept flowing, even as she abruptly pivoted to a new topic. "My fiancé is the opposite. A true masculine specimen. Sharp jaw, stocky build, large arms that could sweep you off your feet, if required. Verile."

"You don't ever talk about him," offered Cal, more for the sake of showing her he was still listening.

Aina rubbed her temples in a circular motion, as if trying to expel an acute pain that had formed there. "What is there to tell? I've only met him a few times, though we've been engaged since the day I was born. He's nice enough, I suppose, at the balls and banquets I've stumbled upon him — remember the book I had? It was one gifted to me from him, which would have been a kind gesture if he hadn't been ignorant of my affliction." She tapped the copper frame of her spectacles. "He's the petty prince of some fiefdom down south, where the sun tans the skins and many of the young men make their living as fishermen. An easy-going, handsome young man, the sort everyone likes. Oh, and an open homosexual who courts his peers."

Cal did a double-take. "What?"

Aina smiled slyly. "You still have a long way to go in order to understand the elegant machinations of royal courtship, peasant. His homosexuality is beside the point, as far as my own and his parents are concerned. My father rules all the land with an iron fist — there's only so much political maneuvering that is allowed — so such an attachment is symbolic, first and foremost. I am the fourth-eldest princess and the ninth eldest child of my father, nine out of eleven. The functionality of my marriage isn't an especially high priority for anyone. It's why the engagement has not advanced despite my far surpassing the age of womanhood in Luvinia, which is sixteen. It's simply a matter that my parents will get to, eventually… probably. They don't especially care when it transpires, as long as I give birth to a healthy son or two when it does, which they suppose even a homosexual can give me. Don't look all that surprised. It truly isn't a very unusual circumstance in Luvinia."

Cal shook his head. "Do you even want to get married?"

Aina actually snorted — loud and undignified. "I fancied you intelligent, Cal. Why bother asking such a question?" Her tone was harsh, though it quickly softened. "Really, it could be worse. He's handsome, after all, and not unkind. Furthermore, only a few years older than myself. Now that is a rarity. I suppose when I go back — if I put my mind to it — life as his husband, in a distant, sunny land like that… well, it's not the worst place to spend your years."

She sneered. "Besides, there's no rule about me not having paramours of my own. What do you say, Cal?" Her green eyes twinkled with humorless laughter and her finger tapped against his shoulder. "Do you fancy abandoning this plane to give stimulation to my existence?"

The look in Cal's eyes seemed to tell Aina that she had gone too far — that she had briefly regressed into a version of herself that she had been attempting to move beyond.

"A poor jest, then, my apologies. I didn't truly mean it." She sighed, turning her head to bury her cheek into Ezekiel's golden wool, one hand running up her opposing arm. The tilt of her head cascaded her red hair over her collarbone. "It's a strange feeling, living like this, in this place. I hadn't realized it myself until today. Like gravity has been suspended. As though I'm floating in a luminous pocket of air, in the interval between two eternities."

Aina inhaled the scent of the wool, the fingers of her free hand intertangling with the fibers, as if searching for a place to hold onto. "You are dear," she spoke softly to Ezekiel, her spectacles being slightly displaced on her face as she pressed her nose near his ear. "You and your brother are both very dear, and we'll always be together."

I got it backward, thought Cal. The fourth princess of Luvinia hadn't been in an especially good mood and decided to summon her beloved sheep, as Cal had first assumed. She had summoned them because she was feeling particularly distraught. Her mood had not been inconsistent — she had simply been briefly excited to show him her "parents".

"Why not stay here, then?" Cal found himself asking in a tender voice, unable to watch her distress in silence for any longer.

Aina's face was mostly obscured by the wool, but the one eye that was visible to him widened. "What?" she said with bated breath.

"You're Aina ud Cormac, aren't you?" Cal responded quietly, "You're amazing. An incredible and beautiful princess who leads by example and doesn't care what others think of her. Isn't that right? So why don't you do what you want, and stay? Why does it matter what your family wants for your life? Just stay."

Aina made a small noise — somewhere between an intake of breath and a sniffle. "Please, Cal… don't… now you're the one making fun of me."

"I'm not poking fun, and I'm not being hyperbolic." Cal's dark eyes studied Aina with an apparently featureless expression, but there was a sincerity in his voice that somehow transformed the contours of his face into something else. "This is an offer, not a joke. I can discuss the details with Mr. Frost as soon as tomorrow. It won't be too hard to work something out for a more permanent long-term habitation — goodness knows, you have enough money, after all. Once that's settled, you can figure out what you want to do next, anything you want."

"Stop Cal… you're being ridiculous."

"Why?"

"Because it's all ridiculous. Stay here? With Bridget? And you?"

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Cal nodded. "With Bridget, and me, and everyone else. For as long as you like."

"You're ridiculous," Aina repeated for the third time. "You're the same as her, that's the strangest thing of all, the thing I can't wrap my head around. That's why you allow yourself to say things that are above your station. Treating me as if I were a normal human being."

"Like Bridget?"

"No, I didn't mean Bridget," said Aina. Her eyes were wide, staring at something imperceptible on the horizon, past Cal, the light making the moisture in her eyeballs glisten. "She's not allowed to. The curses my family inflicted on her made certain of that."

Aina pressed her head further back in the golden wool, her face disappearing from Cal's view entirely, obstructed by the fibers. The voice that emerged was soft and shaking slightly. "I don't expect you to understand, Cal. But it really is impossible. Thank you for offering. Thank you for trying to help. I never knew you cared that much."

The hopelessness in her voice seemed to deflate the conversation entirely. Cal wanted to say something else, but he had a feeling that if he pushed Aina further, something would break permanently. There had been a warning in her voice, underneath the sadness, which perhaps Aina hadn't been completely cognizant of — an aristocratic holdover.

It had said: "Know your place."

About ten minutes of silence passed before Aina's form leaned forward again, one side of her face emerging from the tangle of golden wool that smelled of dew and sunlight. Her eyelids were heavy and slightly reddened. The spectacles were all askew and slipped off her nose, so she sluggishly caught them before they landed in the grass or in the pool of fabric formed by her lavender dress. She smiled to herself slowly, then, unexpectedly, pressed the spectacles to Cal's face.

"Here, try these on," she said whimsically. "I wish to see how you appear when adorned in regalia, my sibylline, ridiculous peasant."

Cal instinctively flinched back as her arms stretched toward him, but indulging whatever fancy had come over Aina, he allowed her to place the ends of the copper lens over his ears. It wasn't a perfect fit; his head was bigger than Aina's, but the spectacles rested without any issues on the edge of Cal's nose.

Aina took one look at Cal's new appearance, then cracked up.

"Sorry," she giggled when she saw his annoyed look. "It's just funny. You are precisely like those people who divine the weather on the television."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Cal huffed to himself. He could barely see anything through the blurry convex lenses, but decided to keep them on for Aina's amusement. "Meteorologists fulfill a very important role in our society."

"Hold on, let me-"

She reached forward again, adjusting a tiny knob that was affixed to the corner of the frame that held the rightmost lens, and suddenly with a click, the blurriness faded and Cal could see with clarity Aina's slightly puffy face and white teeth.

"There," Aina said. "It's a nifty magic enchantment that adjusts itself for the user's need, though the shape of the lenses means it's not an all-purpose solution for everyone."

She seemed to realize upon saying those words that Cal could now see her clearly, and so she did an awkward little wave. "Hi. See me now?"

He waved back. "Hi. I see you."

"Good." Aina looked into Cal's dark eyes for a moment, as if she were trying to recognize a likeness in his face, before a rosy red began to color her cheeks. Suddenly, she snatched the spectacles away from him and put them back on her own face. "That's enough of that. Take those off before Bridget sees."

The conversation had reached what Cal had assumed to be another natural lull, but disaster struck when Cal felt Aina's head softly land on his shoulder. She had fallen asleep. Cal had noticed she had been looking slightly tired, but the transition from comfortable silence to sleep had been so fast he hadn't even noticed until her cheek nestled into the space between his arm and the golden wool.

"Um…" Cal said, looking around for help in Bridget's direction, but the princess' attendant was in a pointed conversation with Ram about something and was not looking his way.

He looked down at Aina. Her eyes were closed, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly. Her chin was moving slowly up and down with her quiet breathing. Cal had never seen her like this, completely unguarded and silent, and paired with the glasses on her face, it had the effect of making Aina seem like one of his university classmates rather than the daughter of a powerful king.

It felt almost inappropriate for him to let her sleep in such an undignified position. Cal was certain that if Aina was awake, she wouldn't have readily consented to prolonged physical contact with a non-aristocrat like himself — after all, he and Aina had never even exchanged a handshake before. However, it felt equally wrong to wake her up, as she had clearly been mentally exhausted in their previous conversation and was due some peace and quiet. He couldn't even stealthily slither away and let her sleep unabated. The full weight of her body was pressing against his shoulder and not the back of the sheep, so if he moved, the princess would fall sideways and hit the grass.

I'm trapped, he realized.

Then Cal had another idea.

"Ezekiel," he called, "you're listening, aren't you?"

A deep, resonant voice responded. "Perpetually in matters of mine daughter, iconoclast."

"Good. She's asleep back here. Could you shift your body slightly? So I can move without disturbing her?"

There was a loud grunt of air. "Quit thy whinging, and lend the princess thine shoulder for slumber. 'Tis the least thou canst do. If I doest what thou request, it would invariably wake her."

Cal raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you're okay with her touching me. Aren't you two always trying to protect her sanctity?"

"She fellest against you, iconoclast. If thou were touching her without her permission, it would be another matter entire. I would obliterate you with the power of the sun."

"I see. You know, you keep switching between 'you' and 'thou' when you speak."

"I am an honor-bound guardian of the Cormac royal clan as bestowed favor by the Goddess of Light. I can speaketh how I desire."

"Fine, point taken," admitted Cal. "But even so, I'm surprised. I thought you hated me and didn't want me near Aina. Have you since reevaluated your stance?"

"Yes," Ezekiel said shortly.

"And what have you determined?"

The golden sheep turned his large head to squint at Cal directly with his beady dark eyes. "Thou art an existential perversion, not even meant to be alive. You persist only through the favor of evil. Admittedly, I once thought thou cynical in thine aims, but now I perceive the truth. You, Pascal Clermont, are a victim of an extraordinarily cruel circumstance, just like mine daughter — and while I cannot approve of your sojourns with her, I do understandeth the compulsion. The selfsame compulsion that compels animals to lick each other's wounds."

Cal was silent for a while, trying to ascertain the sheep's full meaning. "I appreciate you saying that. It's like I said at the beginning, I'm not here to bring harm to your daughter or anyone else-"

"Not so fast, iconoclast." Ezekiel's voice was hushed yet sharp. "I only stated you did not bring harm through intent. Thine irresponsibility and dishonesty could yet spell disaster for those you purport to care about."

"Dishonesty?" Cal's voice was angry, for once. "I haven't lied about anything since I got here-"

"Do not act coy with me, boy!" The strength and intensity of Ezekiel's voice made Cal flinch, almost hard enough to wake Aina. "A lie of omission is still a lie. And thou havest omitted all."

Cal was once again silent. When he spoke again, his voice sounded tired and defeated. "You might as well be telling me it's a sin I'm even still alive."

"I did not say that," Ezekiel's voice fell in tenor. It almost sounded paternal. "Thine sin is assuming you are separate from every other thing. But that is not the case. To live with others is inherently an entanglement of souls. Thouest have entangled — whether you wanted it or not. Take responsibility for it and come clean to mine daughter, the Maiden of Dornlathe, Lady Frost, the computer, and the star-child."

"You make it sound so simple," Cal said, evasively.

"No, it is not simple," Ezekiel said, turning his head away from Cal again to nestle it in the warm grass. "But thy hand will be forced, sooner rather than later. That shadow that clingest to you has already appeared on these premises twice."

Cal's blood ran cold. "Freya was here?"

"Aye. Once I encountered her in person, and another only in a sensing of presence." Ezekiel was quiet for a long moment, then he spoke again in a gentle voice. "Do not shake. Do not despair, Pascal Clermont. No harm came to anyone. As you know, her power is limited in a neutral circumstance. I only mean to impart to you that she has not forgotten about thou, though you may have hoped for it."

Ezekiel shook his head, letting out a gruff sigh. "Now, I am overdue for mine slumber. I wish to enjoy this unseasonal weather. Think on the words I spoke, and come to thine own conclusions."

A few minutes passed in silence before Cal whispered: "Ezekiel?"

"Yes, Pascal Clermont?"

"About the things I said about Aina when we first spoke. I take them back. I understand why you think so highly of her now."

There was another gruff sigh. "That hardly seems pertinent to what we were discussing, but I accept your apology. Mine daughter is a wonderful person, is she not? 'Twas inevitable thou would come to understand her strength of character. Now, let me sleep, child. I wish to bask in this warm sunlight."

Eventually, Ram and Bridget made their way over to where Cal, Ezekiel, and Aina were resting — Cal was the only one still awake. Ram cast a questioning look at how Aina was sleeping against Cal's shoulder, but seemed to shrug it off, instead kneeling by Cal's ear, close enough so that the ends of her blond curly hair tickled the side of his head.

"I got a message that Beetle Boss is causing a ruckus at the public park in the west quarter," Ram whispered into his ear, "so I'm going to take off."

Cal frowned. "How do you know?" he whispered back.

"O-oh, um…" Ram tapped the side of her forehead, "I can like, tune into radio waves in here, i-if I want. That way, I can monitor the city."

"Okay. Be back by dinner, if you can," Cal said, a little louder so that Bridget could overhear, and not get suspicious of the conversation.

It's only going to be leftovers, anyway, he added silently. My entire shopping plan has been completely derailed.

Ram nodded and ran off down the hill, her small body seemingly bouncing with every step. Bridget came up to Cal next, absent-mindedly watching Ram out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't seem intent on questioning where she was going. Instead, she brushed her brown hair over one ear in preparation and then crouched in front of Aina's sleeping face. "Quite the predicament you've gotten yourself into, Mr. Cal."

Her voice was polite, but there was laughter in her eyes.

"Is this where you abandon me to my fate, Ms. Bridget? Or am I destined to be executed for dirtying your lady's royal cheek?"

She chuckled. "No, I don't believe it will come to that, though I wouldn't mention it to any of her family. I've been in this same scenario myself many times. It's like when a kitten sits on your lap just as you're about to rise to do some errand, and so you feel obligated to indulge its comfort over your own convenience."

Bridget reached out and affectionately poked Aina's cheek with a finger. The princess murmured something and stirred, but did not wake up — a bit of drool collecting at the corner of her lip.

"I've told you before that my lady prefers to fall asleep in the company of another," Bridget said, her brown eyes soft and loving. "She's like a child in that way. But you ought to feel honored, Mr. Cal. The fact that she can fall asleep in your presence means that she is comfortable, that her guard is down."

"Have you always slept with her?" asked Cal. He had a strange compulsion to poke Aina's cheek in the same way that Bridget had, but he resisted the urge. "It sounds a little strange to me for someone her age — my age."

Bridget bit her lip, turning the points of her boots so that her body now faced Cal. "I don't wish to psycho-analyze… that's a term people in this world use, is it not? However, I would be surprised if it had nothing to do with the fact that my lady was often left by herself for longer periods of time as an infant and young child, except for a nanny and myself. And…" Her expression darkened with regret. "Truthfully… I wasn't always as attentive to her as I am now."

"You were a child, too," said Cal plainly.

Bridget shook her head. 'Perhaps… but there were times I wasn't very kind to her when my resentment built up and overflowed. Yes. Is that a surprise? The 'me' you know now had to be cultivated, Mr. Cal. I'm a much weaker person than I let myself be perceived as."

"No," Cal insisted. "You're a strong person. Otherwise, you couldn't have lived all those years… in that place… and still held on to kindness and consideration."

Bridget blushed slightly and nervously adjusted her hair again. "You're courteous as always, Mr. Cal. And, as always, you overestimate my virtues…" She sat down in the grass on her rear. "I don't know, perhaps I've over-corrected and spoiled my lady when there is no cause to. In truth, a young woman of nineteen ought not to have to be tucked into bed. But… it feels like a kindness I can do for her without much effort."

"Why…" Cal trailed off before beginning again. "I don't understand. Why do they hate her so much?"

Bridget glanced briefly at Aina's sleeping face, making sure she was still asleep. "Hate is too strong a word, Mr. Cal." She didn't seem to need any elaboration on who 'they' were. "The correct noun is indifference. The Cormac line has reigned over Luvinia with complete control for thirty centuries…. I would invite you to consider the sort of effect such an endowment of power has on a family, on individuals… how it forms their personalities. "

Her voice became quiet, careful, and a little angry. "If I'm being perfectly honest, Mr. Cal… Prince Henri, Lord Cormac, and my lady are just about the only members of the family worth half a damn."

The words hung in the air. Bridget wore the expression of a person telling a joke at their own expense. "Don't ask me to elaborate, Mr. Cal. In truth, even saying that much was a touch risky. Luckily, my tongue still seems in its proper place. Do you understand?"

Cal nodded, his face ashen. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good," she nodded. "Onto another matter… are you alright?"

Cal blinked. "What? Yes, I'm alright."

"Okay, I just wanted to be sure," Bridget said. She was digging the tip of her boot into the earth. "Your expression seemed disturbed."

"Is that so?" Cal said. "I was under the impression my expression is the same as it always is."

Bridget shrugged. "Perhaps. But you have tells, Mr. Cal, ones I have slowly discovered over the course of our cohabitation. You're not as composed as you pretend to be. So, are you alright?"

He looked into her eyes. She was being very serious.

"I'm okay," Cal said. "I'm just… thinking about things…"

"Good," Bridget said again. "Well, since we're both stuck here for the foreseeable moment until my lady wakes… I should take advantage of this rare opportunity."

Bridget moved fast, scooting over to his opposite side, leaning her back against Ezekiel and her shoulder against Cal's own. She smiled slightly, with a hint of satisfaction, tucking her long limbs closer to her chest. "Ah, that's better."

"Ms. Bridget."

"Yes, Mr. Cal?"

He thought about protesting, in the manner he usually would, but he then sighed, accepting his fate. "Nothing, Ms. Bridget. Are you comfortable?"

"Very much so," she said, nudging him slightly with her knee. "It wasn't that long ago you would have scampered from any physical contact, whether it be myself or my lady. Did something change?"

"I don't know," Cal said. He was staring up at the sky. "It has been a weird year for me, Ms. Bridget."

"Hmm?" she acknowledged. Her gaze followed his, up into the watery heavens. "I fancy I know how that feels."

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