Painting with Verona was unexpectedly pleasant. Of course, before, she had formed a connection with her rapidly, but it was a different kind of joy spending time with her. She had a sweet disposition and was not shy to show what she loved. In particular, they were seated outside at one of the many gardens. She reveled at the flowers, taking the time to observe each and every one of them. Only when she found the perfect one for her did she begin setting up her canvas. They had been painting for an hour already, but it wasn't nearly enough for the younger girl.

"I don't think I'm any good at this," the copper-haired woman chuckled nervously, staring at the child-like painting she had created, "but I guess it's relieving that I'm not the only one."

(Y/n) blushed. She realized her painting was pathetic, too, but had been trying to cover up all the mistakes she made. Unfortunately, any time she put the brush on the canvas, more than one mistake was created. Through and through, they were amateurs, but perhaps that was why there was an element of tranquility in it. They weren't trying to make anything perfect. On the contrary, they were learning through their errors and becoming better one step at a time. No one expected them to create something mindshattering. The lack of pressure was another added benefit to the activity.

"I can't imagine ever becoming a master at this," she admitted, placing her brush down in defeat, "How do people do it?"

"Well, I've heard most practice day after day painting the same thing to see their progress. But some are simply naturals at it from their very first stroke. I fear we may not have the aptitude for either."

"You can say that again."

Verona snickered at the girl's tone. She was somewhat of a perfectionist. In that regard, she was like a few people she knew; however, because of the coincidence between the younger girl and her mother, she could only draw comparisons between the two. Humming, she even pondered how the two would have gotten along if the latter were still living. A bit of somber envy set in her when she realized they would have become great friends.

"If it would make you feel any better," the woman started, tucking the girl's hair behind her ear, "the most perfect woman I ever knew would never be able to do this. My mother would try again and again to paint, but she never could. It was her deepest shame."

"If so, she must have led a nice life."

"I think she did. She died a bit younger than she should have and left us all scrambling for the next person to ascend the throne, but at least she left a stable country behind her."

"I guess that's something to be proud of. I don't know much about her, but I heard she was a good person."

"Goodness gracious! Who told you that? It must have been Mica."

As the woman chuckled at the very thought of her own mother being a "good person", the younger girl was unable to understand. It was her understanding that most mothers were good people, with the exception of very few she had ever met. The thought of the Lindre flower flashed through her head, in particular. She had nothing to relate the feeling to, except, perhaps, for the mother of her best friend. Still, no matter how much she did for her, it wasn't the same as having a blood-related mother. Something was still lacking, she felt.

"My mother was a good ruler, (Y/n), but she was not a good person. It's hard to be both, and harder to be a good mother to top it off."

"Did she hit you?" the younger girl questioned somewhat aggressively.

"Never."

"Did she starve you?"

"Hard to do that when there's gardens all around the palace."

"Did she - "

"You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

The (h/c) haired girl flinched at the question, half-touched and half-offended. To a princess who had everything she ever wanted, she felt patronized. Or, at least, she should have felt that way. For some reason, the hatred of the woman never came along. Instead, it was replaced with a kind of reassurance. Even though she knew Verona had never gone through anything that she had, she was still fully aware of it. It was weird, as if the woman had actually lived through everything she had alongside her.

"I must sound like a child whining about a mother simply because she did not give her a candy bar."

"The candy bar being...the throne?"

"Well, when I was younger, that was a large part of my animosity for her. But now I am an adult - or so they tell me - and though I would not call myself wise, I realize what a mother is supposed to be. My mother was not that kind of person."

(Y/n) paused again, uncertain of what the woman was saying. Again, she only really knew of her own envy for people who had mothers. She didn't really care if they were strict or if they were demanding. What mattered most was that they fed their child and gave them a warm place to stay. Though, her own lowered hopes of what a mother was were vastly different from many others. Verona was one such example.

"I have been very spoiled since birth, but, when you have so much, it's a lot easier to look at what you don't have. I did not have the priviledge of having my mother for myself. She devoted herself wholeheartedly to the country. Very rarely did she look at Meridian or myself. We never ate together and we never played. Even when she had free time, she would use it all to travel with my father. We were always left to raise ourselves."

"I still don't see - "

"My mother was born to be a leader. She had it in her since the day she first came to the world and no matter what she put her mind to, she could do it (aside from painting, I'm afraid). She believed that because she had grown up on her own and developed into a self-sustaining woman, Meridian and I would do the same. We were not so perfect. So when she removed the need for nannies or governnesses and even our father's presence, we fell into a hole."

(Y/n) was quiet again. She understood her animosity towards her mother, but was still displeased with it. Verona could see this quite easily. She knew the girl well, more well than she should have. And though she knew she might not get it, she continued talking, if only for her own sake. Somehow, it was healing to talk about the previous queen, particularly because no one else had the right to speak of her that way. Of course, Mica could, as her brother, but he was too attached to the pedestal he put her on to speak ill of her. And Meridian could as well, but the two sisters would never be able to have a proper conversation if their lives depended on it.

"We became spoiled and demanded this after that just to get attention. We thought the only way we would get our mother's attention was to prove ourselves as the next true heir. Studies, art, instruments, etcetera, we did it all. We even married. Meridian married a promising Athainian entrepreneur to show our mother she had an eye for talent and that she had a focus on the commoners. I, on the other hand, married the next Oracle to show her I valued our connection to the gods. When that didn't work, we began trying to kill one another, but - "

"She had you two removed as heirs."

"Yes. So then we thought we could only gain her love if our children proved themselves worthy of the throne. Meridian had three children. Her first is a brilliant boy who is mature and kind. Her second has silvery-blue hair just like the eternal flower. Her third is clever and a natural at everything he tries, just like my mother. She discarded the first two and put all her hopes in her last child, but my mother hated him. She thought he was evil."

The younger girl huffed, knowing just how "evil" the prince could be. He was sadistic in nature and loved to control everything he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, he was smart, making it easy for him to manipulate everyone around him. And, just like his mother, he was spoiled and selfish. She had only gotten a glimpse of his mother before, but she was grateful for it. Hopefully, she would never run into her.

"My child was born last. And, whether it was a good thing or not, my mother adored him and his other cousins. She showed them an affection and care she never showed us. So she was a good ruler and a decent grandmother, but she was never a good mother. As for being a good person, you can't be a ruler without spilling blood."

"I see. She pitted you against one another."

"Yes. Even though she's gone, she still pits us against one another. Meridian is trying to get her youngest on the throne now more than ever. She thinks I've won because she thinks mother loved my child the most."

"Why is that?"

"Well, my child was born sick. She was scared he would be killed first if there was a fight for the throne between her grandchildren. So she gave all of them a title. Meridian's children were given the title of 'duke' and mine was the only one to keep the title of 'prince'. In fact, Meridian was so pissed that she changed her last name from Trewin to Hirasi just to spite us."

The younger girl contemplated that. While she had heard something along that nature, she still heard people refer to the second princess's children as princes. She assumed the title was used by people who wanted them to ascend the throne instead. Either way, she understood how it felt to fight for love with a sister, so, perhaps, just a bit, she realized what Verona meant when she said her mother was a bad one. Though still envious she had one in the first place, she let go of some of her jealousy, giving a saddened expression.

"I don't imagine you have a rivalry for your sister for no reason," Verona hummed, still attempting to fix the mistake-ridden painting, "Just like Meridian and I, you two probably find it difficult to speak without trying to kill one another. And though we can't speak directly, I've learned it helps to love my sister from a distance."

"I can't do that. Unlike you two, we were never on equal footing from the start."

"Fair enough. It's harder to love someone above you than it is to love someone beneath you. I don't expect all of your hatred to disappear immediately. But, perhaps, try to focus on love instead of hatred. If you cannot love your sister, focus on loving someone else so much that you have no energy to feel your hatred of her."

Verona wasn't a perfect person either. She was preoccupied with few things in her life and focused wholeheartedly on them. If she had no interest in something, she would not act, and if something was not perfect, she would waste no energy worrying about it. In that regard, she and (Y/n) differed, but it was something that she could learn from. They continued painting, talking, instead of things that they liked and that brought them joy. She slowly felt her animosity melt away, just as the woman said.

Even when both of their paintings turned out horribly, they were just a bit better than they were before. They both had a moment of pride as they saw the slight improvement, moving to trade one another's paintings as a memento of the day. Then, to finish their time together, they laid on the grass and breathed in the fresh air. It seemed, like her, Verona enjoyed the greenery beyond what others did. It became her and she became it, the woman stretching out her arms and giving a satisfied hum.

"How do you like Vethela so far?" she inquired, petting a flower next to her, "Is it everything you expected?"

"Of course not. There's no tech here."

"Tech?"

"Technology. You guys have restrictions on lights, televisions, and even cars. No laser tag either. There's no other country like this."

"Might that be...a good thing?"

"I'm torn. On one hand, I hate it. It's inconvenient and annoying, especially when I want to stay up late reading or go to an amusement park."

"And on the other?"

"It's paradise."

(Y/n) blushed as she thought of it. Vethela was still modern. They had all kinds of things that went beyond their roots in foraging. And though there were limits, they cultivated the land and knew how to treat it more than any other country in the world. The air was clean and free of pollutants, and, most of all, there was greenery everywhere. A perfect mix of human and nature, she could not find it in her to want to leave the country. More than anything, it felt like she was home; a word that had always been foreign to her.

"Wonderful," Verona chuckled, watching as the younger girl took in deep breaths, "I should have you go on a proper tour of the castle. There are far more things than you would expect."

That was something she was sure of. Whether Vethela was or was not a place that was under the control of demigods, it nonetheless held a more pure state of being than anywhere else in the world. And where one could find pure air, there was a surprising amount of creatures lurking. Not only that, but, for some reason, all primary elements converged in the land. It was easy to sense, even for her, which made it all the more dangerous.

Vethela retained a fire-like warmness common with other countries so close to the equator, but it was balanced out by the coolness of the sea. The castle itself, along with the rest of Valiende, balanced over a high altitude with almost unnatural earth formations. Then, obviously, there was the element of pure air, almost unblemished by pollution. But, most worryingly, even surpassing the previous element, two select individuals comprised a very rare element, no doubt encouraging more of the same type to reside in the area. Why they hadn't been found yet, she had no idea, but it didn't bode well.

"When there are many secrets, you'll soon find you have none at all. It's inevitable. No matter how long you're here, whether it be one night or one lifetime, you'll find something. Some of us have found more than others, but, if you want to seek them out, I guarantee you'll find what you're looking for here."

"I'm only here to learn from Kazuya. Just because - "

"You are an opportunistic girl, (Y/n). You cannot expect me to believe you flew halfway across the world just to 'learn politics'."

"Please. What else would I have come here for?"

"Well," A pause. "To return home, of course."

The younger girl sat up quickly in panic, her eyes shrinking in terror. Her back began to sear a bit, every muscle in her body tensing out of the need to protect herself. Verona knew more about her than she thought, making her easily the most apparent threat in the vicinity. She tried to still herself, attempting to see how much she knew. After all, if the woman really knew every little thing about her, she would have put shackles on her or have done anything to lock her up for one reason or another. Calmly, she spoke.

"What do you mean home? I'm Athainian. It's obvious if you just look at me."

"Then let's leave it at that."

The woman moved to leave, intending to leave the girl alone with her thoughts. What she had not anticipated was that the younger girl would grab onto her wrist. She tried to get more out of her about what she knew, but Verona only gazed at her warmly. When the (h/c) haired girl realized the woman didn't intend to show her cards, she gave a distraught expression, feeling the intense need to flee and hide. That was when the princess pet her head, trying to reassure her that her worst fears would not come to pass.

"You will not be harmed here. On that, I swear. If you're Vethelan or Athianian, human or not, you will be protected. There's a reason we haven't been taken yet."

"You can't expect me to take you at your word!"

"I suppose with all you've gone through, you wouldn't. But keep this in mind. I have shared neither your name nor your identity with anyone, not even my own child. In fact, I've taken steps for you to hide them."

Before the girl could ask why, the princess hugged her tightly. She wanted to convey that she would be safe in the palace no matter what, and while it was hard to trust, the (h/c) haired girl sensed no lie. She didn't know why Verona knew who she was or where she was from or anything else, but, for some reason, it was comforting. No one ever knew any of that. Not even Haru knew. And despite her reservations about a near stranger having so much leverage with the knowledge of her past, it was a load off of her chest. Finally.