Home was made of memories.

Home was a splash of cold water in the face. Home was waking up at the mouth of dawn, stretching your muscles to the pull of the new day and pondering whether it was worth anything to get out of bed. Dreaming, almost still sleeping, I decided it may as well be.

Home was watching the sky before anyone else, marveling from the window seat of my childhood bedroom as the sky cracked and split from a dusky blue to a brilliant orange sunrise. Home was losing track of time. Home was a routine made meticulously for me. Home resembled something close to normalcy.

I was staring into the beautiful garden of Berenice Manor, courtesy of my mother that was still preserved until now, even after years of her death. People called it the winter garden because every flower that grew here was the so-called winter flower that could grow tall and thrive in the cold.

As my eyes wandered, I spotted the familiar albino peacocks scattered around the garden. Their numbers truly had increased a lot since the last time I saw them, and they were strutting around as if they owned the place—or maybe they already did put a claim on it, I didn't know. But I guess a few things never change.

It had been a year since I last visited the Berenice Manor, but I always came to visit my mother's grave on the same exact date every year—and no, it wasn't the day of her passing or her funeral, but her birthday.

It was probably a bit strange to visit someone's grave on their birthday, but that was my mother's request, as she preferred people to celebrate her life instead of her death. I thought it was a cool mindset to have. I would probably adopt her method later when it was my time to leave this world.

Every year, Arsen always tagged along with me during my annual visit, but this year was an exception. It wasn't that he didn't want to come; more like he couldn't, because he had to take care of some barbarians in the western part of the empire.

I was actually the one who told him to go and settle the problem before it got bigger and caused a lot more trouble for us, like what happened in the first timeline. And since I deemed it would be impossible for him to make it in time, I decided to depart to the North by myself and leave the supervision of the Imperial Palace and the capital to my aide, the royal advisor, as well as Xavier and my cousin, Orion. At least I knew I could trust them to keep an eye on things when Arsen and I weren't around.

It's fine, isn't it? I can do this by myself. We're all growing up now.

The sigh that escaped my dry lips was slow and tired. I got up from my seat and started walking around my childhood bedroom and it didn't take long before I found myself lost in memories.

I remembered growing up here. Calypso Berenice, the privileged child of a privileged child. 

People would take one look at me and think of how lucky I was, being born with a diamond spoon. 

My childhood was so extravagant—so unnecessarily filled with things I didn't need, that the things I wanted felt like imprudence. 

I remembered the weekly tea parties and hand-sewn party dresses and the room full of dolls I used to talk with... because I had no one to talk to—because I wasn't allowed to talk to just anybody.

So yeah, home was the same three songs, the same three lousy plays no one bothered to cancel, playing over and over again.

Time slipped and slid and fell out of my grasp, and here I was rereading a bunch of old letters from my mother that she used to send whenever I was away from home during the social season to spend the summer months socializing in the capital and attending balls, dinners, charitable and sporting events.

I didn't notice it as a child. Probably because I was so used to it—but in every letter, my mother always reminded me—chided me, to stay poised, stay elegant—stay relevant.

I remembered the time she sent me the pink diamond necklace she had won in the auction. It was the most prized item among the high society people at that time—every rich person in the empire was fighting to get their hands on it.

Unsurprisingly, Odette Elloid had won it and sent it as a gift for her daughter to wear—no, to show off.

Calypso, she had written. The color of these jewelry doesn't matter at all. What's important is, they cost a lot, and they're really hard to get. And what's even more important is that no matter how rare, you can own each and every one of them, because you're Calypso Elloid-Berenice.

My hands shook and a bitter laugh bubbled at the back of my throat as I read letter after letter.

How can I miss even something like this? It's so pathetic, isn't it?

But I had been feeling so bad, so small, so worn out, so nothing, so far away from the best moments of my life that I even yearned for those that I remembered as the worst.

It was sickening how I even felt relieved then. Sickly, desperately relieved to see her elegant handwriting, and was later amazed; appalled at her ability to fill up an entire page of parchment with various overbearing nagging without asking for one single time if her daughter was doing fine.

Stay relevant? What did you mean by relevant?

I chuckled hysterically because of the irony. If only she knew how irrelevant I truly was.

I am just an extra—a minor background character, mother. So yeah, apparently I have been irrelevant all my life.

And didn't it bring a trickling, grating embarrassment now? How I have tried to stand out. How I felt the world needed to give me attention because of my name and my lineage and the amount of gold I owned and how it stung when I realized that no one really cared.

I had tried to tell my mother once that maybe there was something wrong with me; that the more powerless I felt in my own skin, the more hostile I became and it felt a certain kind of way. Being poisonous, sprouting insults and watching people coil inside themselves gave me a sick sense of victory. Being mean was easy. Easier to make anyone else feel less pretty and less smart and less pathetic than to do any of it by myself.

"I don't always like who I am," I told my mother.

"Don't talk nonsense—and walk straighter," was the reply. "You slouch too much."

There was a slow poison in dismissiveness. The more you were dismissed, the more invisible you became. Until one day you realized that you were hardly a person in this world and you saw that you didn't even have a shadow.

I returned the letters in its box—it was a mini treasure chest by design and adorned with various jewels. I guess being extravagant had always been in my nature even as a child.

I tucked the box back in my dresser and stopped to observe the painting hanging above it: my mother and father standing in the middle of our greenhouse, dressed in their best evening clothes.

It was a curious thing to have a love-hate relationship with your parents when you look so much like them. Correction: not hate. For me, it was more like disgruntlement.

When I was a kid, sometimes, I didn't know whether I wanted to hug my parents or burn their house down.

I had my mother's figure—skinny, average height, dead green eyes—as well as her sharp features. We even had the same, starchy, rough voice. Like anything that came out of our mouths had an edge to it. Her unapologetic cynicism too, I suppose. I surprised myself sometimes, when I was talking to someone else, since it would often sound as if my mother was talking through me. It unnerved me. It calmed me, too.

And from my father, I inherited his hair; jet black and boring. His inability to express feelings, and his silky detachment to everything around him.

"Your Majesty, your bath is ready." I looked up at the sound of Mary's voice. I had been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't even noticed her entering.

I followed her to the bathroom where she proceeded to help me bathe and later massage me with fragrance oil and lotions. I was smelling fresh and floral by the time Eli joined us in the dressing room. They fussed between rows and rows of dresses, forcing me to try on gowns of every kind. It was tiring, but their enthusiasm was infectious.

I didn't even mind that they were repetitively dressing me up in various exclusively-made luxurious clothing. This kind of thing was familiar, and maybe that was why it felt comforting.

"This style is currently very popular in the capital," Eli said as he held out a piece of dress. "Black satin, trim fitting, very flattering—"

"No, no! Not black," Mary interrupted. "Today is the duchess' birthday. We need to dress Her Majesty in color."

"Ah, that's right. What color should we go for then?"

"Maybe something yellow? I think yellow will make Her Majesty's eyes stand out even more," she suggested.

"Hmm... I don't think we bring anything in yellow." Eli pursed her lips as she browsed through a rack of dresses.

"What about gold then?"

"Oh, gold would be excellent! I have just the thing!" She shuffled out of sight before returning with a long, gilded gown.

Even before I put it on, I knew it was the one.

It was long, shimmering, and made of silk. The waist was covered with an intricate white and gold rose design made of lace, and there was a flowing quality to it all that made me think of Ancient Greece. It was beautiful.

When they were finished helping me to put on the dress, I could tell from their expressions that they shared my sentiments.

"Your Majesty," Eli gushed. "You look absolutely ravishing."

"Thank you, Eli," I replied.

Eli and Mary then led me onto the dais in the middle of several full-length mirrors.

"See, this is much better," Mary said excitedly as she fixed the fabric around my legs. "Your Majesty is too special for black, as far as the eye can see! But Your Majesty just glows in gold!"

Special, huh?

Unfortunately, the author didn't think so. In this world, the heroine was supposed to be the most special.

"Mary is right," Eli agreed. "I almost don't think Your Majesty should wear anything else, except... Oh, Mary, you know what we should do? We should style Her Majesty's hair up in braids with some flowers in it. Gold roses, to match the lace pattern here." She smiled and ran her fingers over the flowers at my waist, looking at me fondly. "Your Majesty will be just like a Greek goddess—the goddess of beauty and love, Aphrodite."

"Aphrodite?" I said curiously. "Hmm, interesting... But I think I would prefer to be Persephone, myself."

"Persephone?" Eli helped Mary to smooth the fabric of my golden dress. "Why would Your Majesty want to be Persephone? Wasn't she the one who was abducted by Hades and taken to the Underworld—forced to marry him against her will and all that?"

"In the more popular versions of the story, yes. Persephone was kidnapped and even raped," I agreed. "But that's likely not the original tale. In some older versions, it's questionable whether she was truly taken there by force, or if she allowed Hades to take her. She was a goddess herself, after all. Regardless, she wound up in the Underworld, but Hades wasn't the evil ruler many people assume he was... and Persephone was anything but a damsel in distress. She liked the Underworld. She wanted to stay and be with the god of the dead, even if at the same time she missed the earth..."

I brushed my long hair over my shoulder, eyes staring in the mirror, imagining how it might look if it was up and out of my way.

"And when she became queen, well... Hades might have worn the crown declaring himself the supreme ruler of the Underworld, but it was Persephone that everyone feared."

Eli looked mildly distraught for a moment before giving a small smile and shaking her head. "I think Your Majesty has read too many Greek mythology books lately," she said.

I only smiled at her reaction.

***

It was snowing on the way to Crystalline Hill where the Berenice family cemetery was located.

Under a dove-gray sky, the colors of my world donned their winter coats, each hue darker and richer than before. Wintry trees stood on the sides of the pathway as if they were ballet dancers, poised to show the world their grace, strength shown in how they remained so still and unbothered in this cold weather.

I lifted my head to the sky and almost snorted. It was so dark and cloudy, making the atmosphere even more gloomy and... lonely.

I swear the weather is mocking me!

I sighed and watched my breath waft around like smoke due to the freezing temperature.

I had arrived.

I stood still for a moment and stared at the entrance of the huge property where my mother's final resting place was.

The victorian-gothic-style building had several beautiful angel statues surrounding it, and the glacial ponds on its side with the added natural landscaping around indeed carried a somehow majestic aura. It truly did suit my mother's taste.

I took a deep breath and started moving again. With a bouquet of calla lilies in hand, I walked and passed the gate, where all the guards and servants stayed behind. The wintry wind blew my hair, messing up Eli's hard work, and behind me, there was a trail of only two footprints in the pure white snow.

Just two footprints.

A poet might have looked at this scene and cried with emotion. They would probably have gotten the urge to pick up their pen and write a poem about a girl walking toward her mother as she fought back the ice both outside and inside her.

I wrapped the coat tighter around my body as I gritted my teeth. I felt melancholic somehow—maybe I should be glad I was alone—at least nobody would see me like this, but the truth was... I wouldn't have minded if it was him.

I reached the magnificent oak doors and pushed them with all the weight of my body. Warm air greeted me as soon as I stepped foot inside. The room was kept heated by magic stones that were inserted into the pillars, and not even the cold wind blasting in from the door seemed to disturb it.

The first thing that caught my eye were dozens of my mother's paintings in various poses adorning the walls.

Ah, my beautiful and disdainful mother, your daughter is here.

I wondered what she would say if she could see how pathetic her only daughter had become.

I wondered if, amongst the heavy disappointment, she would ask me about my health.

It had always been like that with my mother. There were some unsuspecting moments of tenderness that happened between us, but there were also a few days when I didn't know what to do with them.

I realized now that you could appreciate something without wanting it back.

I walked to my mother's grave in the middle of the room. It felt strange to be here alone. Usually Arsen would stand a few steps behind me.

I put the bouquet of calla lilies on the altar and took a step back.

The northern region—especially this deep into the mountains—was always covered in snow that only a few select flowers were able to grow. Despite being surrounded by winter flowers, my mother had always found warm-weather flowers more beautiful. She loved to decorate her room with them and eventually built a greenhouse at our property and hired a magician from Ravarynn to charm the building so that any flower would be able to grow there. She almost gave our finance advisor a heart attack when he discovered it cost more than our yearly budget.

I used to find it weird that someone like my mother would like something as common as flowers. Let's be honest, she didn't seem the type.

Of course as I grew older I found out that it was just part of her narcissism, as flowers tend to make women feel special. And who was Odette Elloid if not a special person, right? At least according to herself.

Her confidence was simply astonishing. It made me so jealous sometimes.

But well, after my mother passed away, I ordered the servants to change the flowers at her mausoleum regularly, though the selection would vary depending on the season and availability.

That was why whenever I visited I always made sure to bring her a bouquet of calla lilies; one of her long-time favorites.

It seemed like I had tried to stand out to her even now, though it was silly. These flowers always died the quickest anyway. They were more suited for warmer weather.

I trailed my gloved fingers across the name engraved on her tombstone. "Happy birthday, mother."

For a few moments, I just stood there, motionless, not sure what I wanted to say next.

It was then that the somber silence of the room was broken by the creaking sound of the heavy door being opened.

Could it be...

I turned to see who the intruder was, my heart slightly thumping with anticipation.

Then I heard a voice say, "I am late, aren't I?"

***

Author's Note:

I know this chapter is shorter than my usual chapter. Tbh, this chapter is kind of like a filler but it contains a lot of information about Calypso's home life. I think the way she grew up plays a big part of what made her the way she is right now.

Anyway, what do you guys think about Calypso's childhood? If given the chance, do you want to be Calypso? On the plus side, you're going to be born with a diamond spoon and you'll be the privileged child of the privileged child. The downside is, well, you'll have a strict AF mother and endless responsibilities.

What do you think about what Calypso said about wanting to be Persephone rather than Aphrodite? And who do you think is the person who came at the end?

Last but not least, thank you for still reading this story. Your support really means a lot to me. It's pretty much the only thing that pushes me to keep writing.

The theme song for this chapter could be from Calypso's perspective when thinking about what her mother had taught her.

Talking To Myself - Madalen Duke

I keep talking to myself
And I think I'm going crazy
'Cause I've been talking to my-se-se-se-self
(Oh-oh-oh)

Be pretty but not too pretty
Don't try too hard or they'll know
For once try to be normal
Don't be such a shitshow
Oh damn, not again

Be the smartest one in the room
Or they won't take you seriously
Be confident but also slightly self-deprecating
Or they'll think you're a bitch (or they'll think you're bitch)

I try to tame those voices in my head
But I, but I, but

I keep talking to myself (keep talking to myself)
And I think I'm going crazy
'Cause I been talking to my-se-se-se-self (woah)
(Oh-oh-oh)
Haven't been feeling so well (so well)
Been in my head too much lately (lately)
'Cause I keep talking to my-se-se-se-self (ta-ta-ta-ta)
I keep talking to myself

I made a monster
She's getting stronger
Got me doing things I shouldn't
I can't stop her
I spend all my money on pills and therapy
I still can't get no relief (I, I, I)

I keep talking to myself (keep talking to myself)
And I think I'm going crazy (crazy)
'Cause I keep talking to my-se-se-se-self (my se-se-se-self)
(Oh-oh-oh)
Haven't been feeling so well (feeling so well)
Been in my head too much lately (lately)
'Cause I keep talking to my-se-se-se-self (my-se-se-se-self)
I keep talking to myself

Try to tame those voices (try to tame those voices)
In my head
Voices in my head, voices in my head

I keep talking to myself (keep talking to myself)
And I think I'm going crazy (crazy)
'Cause I keep talking to my-se-se-se-self (my-se-se-se-self)
(Oh-oh-oh)
Haven't been feeling so well (feeling so well)
Been in my head too much lately (lately)
'Cause I keep talking to my-se-se-se-self (my-se-se-se-self)
I keep talking to myself

https://youtu.be/pCvSV7SW1wE

Bonus picture: