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A collection of ficlets surrounding three Charmings - who are more alike than they'd like to think.

Will be updated sporadically, whenever I feel like writing content for them.

The Prenomens[]

Quotation1 Ablative comes from the Latin, ablatus. Ablatus, being the fourth part of aufero, from au + fero. Fero, I carry. Au, away from. Ablative, to be carried away.

Who is Ablativa Tiberia Dulce, and how did she get the destiny of Emperor Lucius? It is a destiny inherited, not chosen. One cannot simply just prove herself to be worthy. One sometimes questions why the universe thinks her so.

Quotation1 The Latin Varius gives us the English various. Many. Changing. Numerous.

Varius Ruinosus Caeruleus had once thought having a well-connected stepmother would mean that things would be better. Clearly, the young prince never learnt his tropes. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Quotation1 Absolute. Ab, as you know already, is away from. Solute comes from solvere, to loosen. In combination, you are loosening something away; you are freeing it.

Absoluta Cesare Decorum knows she is no regular Princess Charming, and will play the role of the Other Woman, and promises she'd have fun with it. But sometimes, fathers strike deals with their dead friends. Sometimes, instead of the Other Woman, you become the Other Prince.

The Accounts[]

as your name suggests, you have naught but a lionheart (april 19 2020, wc: 412)

“Procurator,” the courtier at her door . “Procurator.”

Dolor Leone Tiberia was working at this hour. There was so much to read - new legislation, new letters from concerned citizens. In a week, she had another meeting, one in which she actually had to vote on, and still had not read the papers for that. She closed her eyes.

“What.”

“Procurator, we should talk. I’ve heard news from the school.”

“Ever After High? What did Varius get himself up to?”

“It’s not Varius, Procurator. The Professors have no new issues with him, besides the standard. Look, the Headmasters wrote to us. Said that your daughter finally looked in the Storybook, and signed her name on the page.”

“I don’t have a daughter.”

The words were cold, like a westerly breeze.

“You know what I mean, Procurator. She’d find out soon. There’s no reason why the Emperor Lucius role should be inherited.”

It was true. In the world of Ever After, storybook destinies passed down from parent to child. If one never sired any children, it was to nieces, to nephews, to unfortunate second cousins once removed. Some roles were brutal, others were disastrous. Still, people clung onto their line of inheritance. On the scale of family honour, what did individual suffering even mean?

The one exception to the rule, of course, was destined love interests. For a stock princess or princess, this was the best course of action you would hope for. Their parents would have named them something worthy of romance novel tropes – like Sweet, or Noble, or Callipygean Charming.

Emperor -- or Procurator, choose your poison -- Lucius was not one of those roles. Villain once, and in future renditions of the Arthurian Legends, villain to-be.

Dolor remembered the previous Procurator Lucius well. He was a quiet man, he was a very serious man. “Shut-in” was not a word unfamiliar to any descriptions of him. His siblings died with him on the field, against the Britons. “The only life of mine valuable to me is my work,” he once said. He left no heirs.

And so, in succeeding him in his office, Dolor succeeded him in life.

In succeeding him in life, she had cursed one of her children in destiny.

“The Ever After High curriculum is surely vigorous,” she justified to the courtier at the door. “Would she even have the time for this?”

“Well, children are curious. If she purposefully went out to find her destiny, then she’s going to purposefully go out and find out more. In my recommendation, I’d suggest approaching her yourself.”

the semantics of time and space (august 1 2020, wc: 950)

There was a lot of tension that came with espresso and staring at the countryside, Dolor Leone Tiberia was starting to realise.

“I didn’t think you’d bother making this trip, Nell,” she said, placing down her now-empty shot.

Prepositional Charming threw back her hair and laughed. “For you, Leone? Maybe not, but this isn’t for you.” The queen was nothing if not elegant. Every word was carefully chosen; not a single ringlet was out of place. “Besides, it’s but a weekend trip. We drink, we do our crosswords in the mornings, and I leave in polite diplomacy.”

Procurator Tiberia narrowed her eyes. “You know what this is about--”

“Your daughter. No, wait, my daughter.” Nell tapped her chin with a finger. “Still haven’t talked to her yet, have you? When are you going to?”

“A good politician doesn’t procrastinate.”

“You were elected,” she rolled her eyes, and reclined back in her chair. “Ablativa is doing fine, thank you for asking. Spelltacular grades, every other prince seethes in envy. Listen, you know.”

“What do I know?”

“You know how they pick successors. That’s why you called me here, right? You’ve figured out her destiny.”

Leone shifted. “I was informed.”

“What is it? Wait, I can easily guess, can’t I? Emperor Lucius. But no prizes for that, right?”

“You’re correct.”

Nell hit her with a sharp stare. “And are you worried?”

“I’ll have to talk to her some day. Eventually. Hand over my office and position as Procurator down to her. Imagine that being the first time you meet your mother.”

“Cruel.”

“I’ve been busy.”

"Ablativa is a smart girl, Leone. She's quick on her feet, she never shuts up--" Nell said. “She’s handy with weapons. I should know, I signed her up for the finest of classes we have. I know what’s going on with the school, I know that there’s a case that we luck out, that I can wish her home--”

“She’s lucky.”

“What?”

“She’s lucky. She knows now. She’ll be prepared.”

Nell paused.

“Last generation - the Candy Witch, Hansel & Gretel. She installed an escape hatch. There’s other stories, that’s not the only one,” Leone’s voice seemed to trail off, but she quickly regained composure. “I’ve thought about this. I left her with you for a reason, Nell. You’re more of a mother than I am. Than I ever was.”

“It’s no shame to focus on your career.”

“Yes, but! I put her with you,” she gestured. “For her safety. For your daughter to have a friend growing up. Were they not tight?”

Were.”

“She’s lucky to know this early! And I’m going to let myself -- let her -- have this little bit of luck, shall I not?”

Nell was quiet. It was hard to respond. “You’re right.”

“I know. I’ve thought about this.”

She was still quiet.

“Haven’t you thought about this?”

“Poor Absoluta.”

It was Leone’s turn to look at her.

“She doesn’t know her destiny yet,” Nell frowned. “I don’t know her destiny. That Raven girl - the reason why Absolute never stepped front on that stage.”

“Neither did Ablative.”

Nell sighed. “She writes back frequently. She’s so happy. Talks about inheriting the kingdom, in all her hexcitement. I remember her last letter. ‘Mother, this is my one certainty. How can I not care about it?’. Absoluta and Ablativa are not the same girl - I know, I raised them.”

Leone averted her eyes, not ready to deal with yet another one of Nell’s glares. She did appreciate the other woman - beyond words, even, for Leone never quite found the phrases upon her tongue to thank Nell. How could she? She wasn’t elected to her position for spilling her heart to the winds, but for keeping her head down in books and Hexcel sheets. Propositional Charming was the only reason why Dolor Leone Tiberia could call herself a Procurator of Rome.

“Absoluta is a beautiful name,” she finally said. Thank you, Propositional was found in the smallest of things - in compliments, in the finest espresso she could find. Thank you, Propositional was also found in more grand things - like gifts mailed to the House of Decorum, for the other woman alone.

A beam. “Moral chose it, did you know? After his dear friend. I never met the man, he was gone before I met him. His partner is wonderful - soft-spoken, kind.”

Like Procurator before me, Leone squished that thought down. “What was his name again?”

“Cesare Absolute. So my daughter’s Absoluta Cesare.”

“A nice twist,” Leone nodded approvingly. “And Ablativa-- that was your decision, I remember. Ablative Absolute.”

“Present and perfect,” Nell smiled.

She could never hate Nell. Never. Never once, did she glow in anger at the woman. Leone remembered the wedding - remembered looking once into Propositional’s wide, nervous eyes, and in her heart, felt the desire to protect her. Leone had loved Patricius Moralis Decorum for but a few years already then, but love did not triumph over arranged marriages. Not for families without legacies.

This was the woman that changed her life. This was the woman who enabled her to live the life she wanted.

“Without question, Leone, Ablative is my daughter as well,” Prepositional Charming said. “You were right to invite me here - this wasn’t the sort of conversation for a letter or a postcard or a telegram. Who else have you talked to?”

“... not her. That’s for sure.”

“I didn’t pay for all those lessons, I didn’t build her up, for her to die, Leone. Who do you take me for? That’s not what you call a wise investment.”

Leone cracked a grin. “You know what’s also a wise investment?”

“Do share.”

“There’s a hexcellent pastry brand that we recently started importing, you must try it…”

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