Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sophia is curious.

It started with a flicker in her princess' eyes. More than mere relief that they could leave the musty base and return to the palace. More than joy for the Resistance liberating her beloved country from the doctor's grip. More than recognition.

Everyone knew his name. Everyone saw his face at least once in their lives. If one was lucky, as a handful of Castle Town residents so claimed, it was in-person. His escape from prison brought relief. His name among the world's saviors brought joy. Her princess showed none of these things.

No. She froze.

It was as though the face she shared with her kingdom, with her subjects, with Sophia and Anna who woke her in the morning and wished her restful sleep at night - her quiet dignity in a Mona Lisa smile - was a bubble. With one name, it popped.

Her lips slipped apart. Her pupils shrank. Her chest rose in one slow inhale.

She blinked, and it was over. A warm smile, a relieved sigh, and she sat up ramrod straight. “That's wonderful, Sophia. Summon the captain. I wish to return immediately.”

Sophia heard the light crackle in her throat. The princess never did that. “Right away, Miss Elise.”

She chanced one more glance through the dull grey metal doors. Her princess stood and turned away, and discreetly wiped her eyes.

Sophia put it out of her mind.

No. It started long before then.

A sudden breeze shocked Miss Elise during the Festival. Halted her kind smiles and waves to her people. It was just the wind. She assured her as much. Miss Elise agreed.

But she muttered something to herself. She smiled and waved wider, looked joyous and light, like the wind filled her- lifted her.

It was so unlike the usual reserved, mysterious smile she shared with the country. Soleanna's Mona Lisa, until that moment. Sophia put it out of her mind.

That night, Anna and Sophia wished her restful sleep, as always. She earned it, after a wondrous ceremony.

They passed by Miss Elise's bedroom door later in the night. A squeak slipped through the cracks; a whimper, or a hiccup. Sophia reached for the doorknob.

Anna shooed her away - insisted she resist her fretting ways. Their princess needed her rest. Another reverberated through the bedroom to the door to Sophia's head as they left.

By the next morning, the streets of Castle Town murmured with rumors of a famous blue hedgehog in their midst. Some keen eyes claimed to see him dashing through the Festival's crowds or standing tall atop a building for the best view. Out of all those fiery orange lights and stark black shadows, how could they be so sure it was him?

“Well,” Anna asserted, scratching her pen about her clipboard with a surgical precision, “the wind was actually very light last night.” She adjusted her glasses on her nose. “Until he appeared.”

Days passed. Weeks and months. Sophia put it out of her mind.

Now she notices it every time Sonic comes up. Every time Miss Elise sees him on the news, or his name brushes through the palace. A flicker. A wind through her. Sometimes that's all it is.

Sometimes she stops and stares at his picture. Her dignified smile widens, joyous and light. Like she's a regular teenage girl with no care for who sees her. If any of her other ladies notice, they say nothing either.

Sophia carries her bedding out of her bedroom one day, when she offers another free, brilliant smile to an obscured image on her computer. Blue quills peek out over her shoulder.

“Are you a fan, Miss Elise?” Sophia dares to ask. She tries not to sound like she's teasing her. Though maybe she is.

That beautiful smile disappears. Brittle shock turns to her instead. It's only for a moment. Enough to make her stomach churn- to fear she crossed an unknown line.

It eases. The usual dignified, Mona Lisa smile takes its place. “...Yes. I suppose I am.”

Miss Elise does something Sophia never saw her do before. She winks, and brings a conspiratorial finger to her lips.

Sophia is concerned.

It starts with a news report from satellites and radars. Assumptions about lights and debris in the low atmosphere. A meteoroid first; a flash second; a rising and falling star third. Experts believe it was him saving their world once again. He's not seen by anyone for days before and after.

She recounts the report to Miss Elise, certain she wants to know.

The smiles stop.

The stares don't.

His name no longer draws a flicker in her eyes, but a shock. His image no longer lifts her when she sees them, but haunts her. He's a ghost. He's a curse.

Another week passes without his sighting. Sophia sees the fear in her eyes as she watches the news and scans the papers for another miracle.

On the third night, Sophia and Anna wish her a restful sleep, as always. Later that night, another squeak slips through the bedroom door. Sophia is there to hear it. Anna isn't.

“Miss Elise...?” she murmurs into the dark room. The ivory curtains glow with moonlight; they silhouette the shaking lump in the bed.

The squeaks halt. A shiver, a sniffle, a crackle in a throat drift through the cold air. “J's' a bad dream...!” they answer her. “Th'ts all...”

She stays until a good dream arrives.

Two nights later, she hears a cough and a sniffle. She fears opening the door; she refuses to walk away.

“My... throat. S' just a little dry...” drifts the crackle.

She fetches some water, and stays until all is soothed. She believes it even less. But what is she to say?

Two days later, dinner is served. The dining room sings with roasted meat, butter, fresh mint and jus. Candles flick shadows across silver stone and ivory wood.

The princess sits at the dinner table, hands clasped on her lap, dignified and polite as always. She frowns still. Her eyes are distant. She spares not a single glance at Sophia, nor the plates set before her. She only stares at the flame.

Sophia doesn't react fast enough. She doesn't believe what she sees. By the time her adrenaline kicks in and terror leaps from her throat, a hole burns through the princess' glove.

“Miss Elise!!”

She wrenches the princess back from the candle. Miss Elise gasps and shouts, shaking her smoking hand. The two tear the glove away in a panic and throw it to the floor. A glowing orange circle fades to black around an empty space in the white silk.

Sophia stares aghast at her princess. “...Why...?!” she can barely squeak. Footsteps clop and thump across the floor as more staff hurry in. “Why would you do that...?!”

But Miss Elise doesn't respond. She only stares at the bright red mark on her palm. Her surprise dulls. Her lips fall.

A shimmer crosses her distant eyes.

Miss Elise sits in bed. Anna and Bella scurry about the room, preparing it for their princess' rest in Sophia's stead. She stands out of their way beside Miss Elise, a stabilizing presence for her - if only because she's stunned to stone. She glances back and forth between Miss Elise's opaque stare and bandage-wrapped hand. Wherever their princess' gaze lands, it's not in that room.

Anna and Bella leave and scare away the caring staff and curious gawkers alike outside. The slam of the door behind them echoes through the room. Their many footsteps fade in its wake.

Sophia kneels beside the bed. “Miss Elise...!” she pleads the fading afterimage of her wise, noble princess. “...Please, tell me what's wrong. You're not yourself...!” Her breath shivers before she dares ask it. “...Is this because of Sonic...?”

Finally, her princess seems to breathe. It's a gasp of shock. She buries her face in her hands, and shakes. She doesn't react to touching her injury.

“Miss Elise, I understand if you're worried about him, and... you admire him. But- th- this is too much...!”

“...I can't...!”

Sophia's blood chills. Her princess' voice is the shatter of glass. “Why not, Miss Elise...?”

“You would think I'm insane...!”

Her mouth hangs open. Nothing comes out.

She wants to insist it's not true. But...

“...Will you stay with me...? Until I'm asleep...?”

She agrees. It doesn't come easily for either of them.

“Anna.”

“Yes, Miss Elise?”

“Remind me again of the legend of Solaris, would you?”

Sophia glances away from dusting the bookshelf. The princess sits dignified as ever, hands clasped politely on her desk, she notices. Nothing about her face or posture implies why she asked.

“Miss Elise,” Anna playfully scolds, “you can't have forgotten my lessons already?”

She titters quietly, softly, and stares above a Mona Lisa smile. “Of course not. But... it's on my mind lately. If you please?”

“Well...” Anna begins, adjusting her glasses as she summons her mental library, “it is believed that in ancient times, a great fire threatened this island. A giant eagle saved the people, or in some versions of the legend, a griffin. And he entrusted the royal family with protecting Solaris's Flame of Hope. Thus began Soleanna as we know it.” She wafts her hand in the air like she does, as though her pondering conducts the symphony of history. “Though no one truly knows if Solaris was the fire or the eagle. Some even speculate that he was both.”

“...A phoenix...?”

Both ladies turn to the expectant face on their princess. A discrete swallow, and her expression returns to neutral.

“...Yes,” Anna continues, “perhaps so. Some historians believe the Flame of Hope could bring back the dead. That would make sense for a phoenix.” She taps her chin. “Though, others believe that this is a misunderstanding of its true power - that over time, people conflated its desired use by the ancients with what it really did. They believe it actually controlled time itself.”

“...I believe that.”

Both of her ladies turn quizzical brows to her. “Why's that, Miss Elise?”

Her mysterious smile thins. It carries on in her eyes. “Well, if you had control of time, and you lost someone you loved...”

Sophia catches her press her thumb into the hidden bandage square under her glove.

“Wouldn't your greatest desire simply be... to talk to them again?”

Anna adjusts her glasses on her ears. They hadn't moved at all. “...Yes. I see what you mean, Miss Elise.”

“I'm curious, though.” Their princess' light gaze pierces Anna. “The eagle entrusted the flame to my ancestors?”

“That is the legend, yes.”

“What happened to it?”

Anna withers under her stare. She clears her throat with as much dignity as she can muster. Sophia swears the lump jumps into her throat instead.

“...I'm afraid we have no record of its true existence. I personally believe it's a myth to stoke national pride. Traditions - explanations by the ancients for our world, and such.” She bows to the princess with a playful smile. “And to assert your family's rule by divine right, Miss Elise.”

But that measured Mona Lisa slips. A frown inches down it. “The legend predates the monarchy.”

Sophia sees Anna's fingers curl- feels them around her stomach. “...Well- yes. Myths do evolve and... their societies... embellish them over time...”

“What if Solaris's flame was real?”

Her dull voice- her empty eyes- are too cold for the word. She asks it, too calm.

“What if it's not a Flame of Hope, but Disaster? That it didn't bring life, but death?”

Darkness fills her eyes. The smallest shake in them and her throat. It's enough to unnerve them.

“M-... Miss Elise-”

“What if I snuffed its flame?

And none of you knew?”

She didn't speak it. She stabbed them with it.

The chill fills the room. Sunlight through the window cowers in the corner. The ladies stand silent- useless. Tears would be closer to her smile. She offers no such relief.

Her voice is glass. “Would I have divine right to the throne, then?”

“Miss Elise...”

Sophia is terrified.

Her princess stands on the balcony under brilliant starlight. A painter would despair to miss the image, though they'd be cursed. Her eyes rest on the distant city, too tired to search- too lost to try.

“This secret...” She summons the courage to approach her princess' side and continue, but the words resist her breath. “It's eating you alive...”

Miss Elise doesn't face her. She only murmurs. “How did my father die?”

Sophia's stomach twists. Her princess' voice is lifeless - horrible gravel tears her throat.

“...He-” It catches in hers. Sticks in it. She swallows away nothing. “...Cancer. When you were fourteen.”

Slowly - unbearably so, with not a twitch on her face - her princess shakes her head. “He died when I was seven.”

Sophia's lips slip apart. She can't respond.

“He tried to harness Solaris's power. But it killed him, and many others.” She raises her hand into her eyeline. The city releases her. “His last act was sealing its Flames of Disaster within me.”

Sophia is aghast. Her princess speaks nonsense. “Mi-” Yet it won't leave her mouth.

She stares through the white cloth to the burn on her palm. Grieves it. Rues it. “...I remember a whole other life, Sophia.” It's a pained whisper. “Sonic saved me. Again and again. I loved him... I saw him die...!”

Finally, Miss Elise looks at her. The cold is gone. In its place, the waters below them boil. The moonlight dancing on their waves is a threat. How could eyes glimmer so bright over an abyss so deep and dark?

“Every night. Every dream. It's of us. Of a life and love I lost. That I gave up for Soleanna, with a smile on my face. Every. Moment of it... Until the last, when I blew out Solaris's flame.”

Sophia's mouth hangs open. Helpless. Useless. None of it could be true.

But...

Miss Elise smiles, flat as Mona Lisa's portrait, as tears stream down her cheeks. “Do you think I'm insane now?”

Sophia
doesn't know what to feel.

She rises with the sun. The morning air drifts through her window from the ocean. It's cool and light, as usual.

It feels static. Stagnant. She tastes it on her tongue. It refuses to be breathed. Refuses to nourish. The same air, but it's wrong.

It's almost time to wake the princess when a sudden breeze coats Soleanna.

Early risers feel it rush across them. What starts as surprise becomes a lift. The air tastes cleaner. Lungs fill fuller; it feels like a friend brushing their skin. The people walk taller, walk easier. They smile.

She approaches Miss Elise's door and sees the morning light seep through the cracks - feels the draft.

She opens the door. Her eyes cross the ivory bedroom, over the lace blankets and silken sheets lit by the morning sun. The curtains are open already. The window is open too.

The wind wafts the cloth around it like smoke across the lip of a caldera. It's a portal. A crucible.

There's no one inside.