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The air of the room was suffocating. Narrow confines of hard stoney walls with not one crack of light creeping in from the outside. It's cold, as freezing as the harshest winters. Perhaps experiencing a violent blizzard would have been better than being shrouded in utter darkness.
Cold. Hopeless. Alone.
Andrew knew this place as the Atonement Room. But what brought her back here to this wretched place? Why?
"You were a mistake." A voice of the man she fears rings in her head, the same phrase she rewinds in her mind over and over again.
Ah , perhaps she could not escape the clutch of her father after all.
Maybe, just maybe, that pit of darkness was all she deserved in life. Yes, accept it all.
The only end to this misery is the sweet coming of death.
—
Her eyes flutter open. The warmth of sunbeams shine through the window and cast perfectly onto the bed in which she lay. The chirping of birds were heard from the outside, melodious as they signified the start of a new day. Andrew lifts her head up slightly, glancing at the view of the window.
That's right, she lives in the city of Harriet now.
She wipes off beads of sweat from her temple, likely a result of her less-than-stellar sleep. Andrew furrows her eyebrows, it was particularly irritating when she'd have nightmares. She did not like dwelling on her old life anymore but the subconscious is fickle.
She sighs. There was nothing she could change from her past and this much she's accepted. It would be nice to just forget but moving forward was easier said than done.
She lays her head back on the soft pillow and looks to her side. Watching the love of her life in beautiful slumber always helps ease the tensions brought about from her harrowing stream of thoughts. A small smile tugs at her lips, lifting a hand to tuck a stray hair on Herta's ear in order for her to get a better look at that ethereal Sanrit beauty.
Herta seems to mostly gain peaceful sleep. Andrew has noted this for each time she woke up earlier than her lover, which was great. It's nice to see that Herta wasn't as haunted by the past, much unlike herself.
If Herta's happy, then Andrew can find herself in contentment. Really, it was all she could ask for as she hadn't harbored any new life ambitions. She never thought she'd still be living and breathing to this day at all but that's enough musing on morbid thoughts.
" Mmhhg "
Herta stirs. By that moment, Andrew could tell she's finally awoken.
"You were tossing and turning in your sleep, miss," Herta says groggily whilst her eyes still shut. "Did you not have a good night's rest?"
Andrew snorts at the way Herta asks in a tone that's in between doting concern and mild annoyance, as if indirectly telling her 'I love you but you are also such a headache.'
"I just had a peculiar dream. Perhaps my body thrashed around unconsciously as a reaction," Andrew explains calmly, purposefully leaving out the fact it was actually a nightmare born from her ugly past.
"Mmm…"
To Andrew's surprise, Herta wrapped her arms around her, pulling the former noble closer in an embrace. She sighs, it was fruitless to be secretive when your partner can oh-so easily read you like a simplistic children's book. There was not one thing she could hide from Herta, really?
"Please remember that you're here in Harriet now, safer than ever before," Herta whispers, eyes still closed. "I'll stay by your side, forevermore."
Andrew smiles at the reassurance and eases herself into her partner's comforting arms. Forehead to forehead and arms encasing the other's form, they stay in that position for a while. If she could be held like this every night, Andrew could see herself having better dreams.
She ever so slightly drifts back to sleep until…
"We should get up soon."
Andrew snaps her eyes open at the sound of Herta's sudden flat statement. Their eyes met and oh, was Herta's gorgeous blue pupils a delight to see as one wakes. Andrew could allow herself to get lost in that sea of blue, but no , she needed to exert a glare at those otherworldly exotic eyes and their owner for ruining the intimate moment.
"Can't we have five more minutes?" Andrew protests.
"Hah!" Loosening her hold, Herta turns over to lay on her back, much to Andrew's disappointment. "We have chores to do in this household, you know? Let's not delay them further, miss. Lest we both get an earful from Mary for 'fooling around'."
"I know, I'm well-aware." Andrew sighs, conceding.
However, she thought of a way to stall for time. Well, in her personal defense, it had to be addressed sooner than later anyway.
"Herta, tell me, we live together in a shared household. Unlike a noble estate, it's a normal home with just your family, a former handmaiden and the two of us," Andrew starts, lifting herself up slightly to look down on her lover. She leans a cheek to one hand, a smug expression etched in her face. "So we essentially live as equals now, correct?"
"Yes?" Herta responds, raising an eyebrow as she questions Andrew's motives.
"Then how come you still refer to myself as 'miss' whilst practically spending your nights sleeping with m– ah!"
Before Andrew could finish her inquiry, one flustered Herta pins her down and covers her mouth with a hand, quickly cutting off the last portion of the sentence.
"Miss, you mustn't phrase it in such a way," Herta whispers, eyeing the door in case someone among their housemates has heard their conversation.
Andrew shakes her head, feeling peeved at the fact she was ungraciously pounced on. Shelightly grabs Herta by the wrist and swiftly pulls her hand away to speak once more.
"There it is again, you just called me 'miss'."
Sighing, Herta helps her former mistress to sit up properly. The two then sat upright on their shared bed facing each other. Andrew continues to search Herta's expression for any signs of discomfort. The Sanrit kept a calm demeanor, however, she did not miss the way Herta's blue pupils shook. As if signifying a million thoughts racing in her mind.
Was it that much difficult of a question?
Finally, Herta presents a reassuring smile, raising a hand to cup a side of her partner's face. Andrew couldn't help but lean into the touch, the reasons of what brought about the conversation was almost forgotten.
"I suppose it's a force of habit," Herta answers. "I'm sure I'll grow out of it eventually."
"How absurd," Andrew accuses. "You had no problem calling me by nickname during our time attending Lillian together."
"Th-that was…" Herta shifts her gaze, away.
Andrew cracks a smirk. Herta normally had a very collected demeanor but when she was at loss for words and turns flustered it was—oh, Andrew lacked intelligent words to describe seeing this side of her lover without sounding juvenile but—it was cute. Absolutely adorable.
"Hmm? I'm not hearing any proper reasoning behind your insistence in addressing me with a title," Andrew says smugly, putting a finger to her chin for some 'maximum effect'. "Unless…do you, by chance, take an interest in that kind of— oof!"
Getting cut off again, a soft pillow met her face. Perhaps it wasn't necessarily the best choice to tease Herta at every possible chance. Taking the pillow off of her, she's met by a disapproving glance and a shake of the head.
"Seriously, where do you get such ideas?" Herta sighs in exasperation. "You shouldn't– Oof!" Paralleling her own actions mere seconds ago, she was then met with the same pillow she used to assault Andrew thrown back onto her own face.
"You haven't given me a proper answer yet," Andrew snarks. "Why still refer to me as 'miss'? Surely, you don't see yourself beneath me given that you aren't so above casually hitting my person with your pillow. Perhaps I should tattle to your parents on how awful their daughter is."
Herta could only stifle a laugh at the somewhat childish remark.
"I suppose a part of me still sees you as my mistress," Herta offers, ignoring the empty threat. "Our interactions in Lillian were for a facade. Truthfully, we did not make exchanges much on school grounds so most of our bonding was when we were alone and particularly within Grace's estate."
"Hmm…I guess so…" Andrew trails off.
She'll admit Herta bears a point. They spent the majority of their time together as master and servant—well, slave actually—compared to their farce of a relationship in Lilian. Herta would've only been accustomed to calling Andrew by name for a cover than being a signifier of their true, natural relationship.
"In some ways, I feel as though no matter how much we’ve changed and grown, there are some things that we’re unable to let go of. Whether that be our old habits or ways of thinking," Herta continues, voice laced with melancholy as she reminisced about bygone days. "Growing up, it was a necessity for me to give up my whole life to you; it ensured my protection and so, that was the only way I could survive. However, that was then. Right now…"
She takes her former mistress' hands and clasps them with her own, fixing gaze of conviction that almost makes Andrew shudder with goosebumps. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t fond of the feeling.
"I'd give up my life, my everything, to you– for you so that I could ensure your happiness. And maybe in doing so, it ensures mine as well." Herta voices with a loving, but still melancholic expression.
"Perhaps such a fixation keeps me from seeing you as anything less than above me but that is how I feel. Does that suffice as a reason for you?"
Andrew's eyes softened hearing the sudden declaration. Herta was always great at making her feel emotionally moved. There was this feeling of delight in knowing how much her partner revered her person so highly. She could drop the topic and accept Herta’s feelings. If that’s how she wanted to live, then so be it.
However, as twisted as her mind can be, the better part of Andrew knew this wasn't right at all.
"You say you'd give yourself for my happiness but Herta," she tightens the grip on her lover's hands and leads them to cup the side of her face.
"It'd make me personally happy if we treat each other close to equals, like true partners."
Herta's eyes widen in surprise, streaks of pink coloring her cheeks as Andrew softly delivers her own desires with a fond smile; a smile that bore the authentic Andrew, a side of her that’s only reserved for the Sanrit to witness.
"So I suggest you at least make a real conscious effort. Again, please refer to me as 'Andy'."
Herta heaves a sigh, though one laced with tender affection. "Understood mi–"
"Understood?"
"...Andy."
Andrew quickly takes notice of the pinkness of the Sanrit’s complexion deepening once the sound of the affectionate nickname escapes her lips. This time, with only the two of them in the room. Yes, Andrew knew it in her heart, being called that name by Herta was always more satisfying than the use of an honorific.
"Anyways," Herta quickly stands up from the bed and offers a hand to her partner. "We've done enough waffling around this morning. I also suggest you at least make a conscious effort with chores. Those dishes won't clean themselves, just so you know."
"Alright, alright," with a soft laugh, Andrew gently takes the hand that was offered to her, expectantly pulled up to her own two feet.
What she did not expect though was being pulled into a sudden kiss. Surprising and a tad unfair but a very welcome one.
" Mmmh," she smiles within the kiss anyways. Perhaps she could get back on Herta later in the day.
Pulling back, Herta greets her with a serene expression, "Good morning, Andy."
The sight was amazing to behold. The small upturns of Herta's lips, the kindness of her eyes, the way her brows relax by just saying her name. Her entire form was accentuated by the beams of light that shone perfectly onto her silhouette.
Andrew could only feel lost in the moment, like her guardian angel graciously appeared before her. Growing up, she thought if guardian angels or even gods were real, then why did she, and many other women, suffer in this world? It was more convincing to say that such things were mere fantasies created by man to bestow false hope in humanity.
And she still firmly believes so but perhaps there were true angels in the world, not the ones written in scriptures but they lived within people. At least to Andrew, Herta would be one of those angelic people. There was proof before her right now.
If her mornings could be like this everyday; bantering with Herta as she calls her by name like this–like true partners whilst relishing in each other’s company, then maybe Andrew can deal with having nightmares each night. She isn't too sure if the effects of the past will continue to persist but at least she knows she's never alone. Not anymore.
"Good morning, Herta."