The Maid of the Cursed Princess

The intimacy between Araignée and Robin, the boy and the girl who had become singular existences unto each other, deepened with each passing day.

More accurately, it was Araignée’s demeanor toward Robin that gradually thawed over time, for Robin had maintained an unwavering warmth from their very first encounter.

Unlike Robin who had treated Araignée as a friend from the outset with utmost familiarity, Araignée had initially been unable to fully trust her.

Yet ere long, Araignée’s heart had flung its doors open wide – a tacit acceptance that he too now regarded Robin as a friend, even if outward appearances suggested he remained reluctant to admit it.

The craving for affection is innate to human nature, yet Araignée had been deprived of that nurturing warmth dubbed ‘maternal love’ even from his own mother throughout his formative years.

It wasn’t that his mother lacked any love for Araignée per se, but her affections extended no further than the possessive adulation one might harbor toward a favored belonging or chattel.

Having been birthed into callous indifference, it was only natural for the affection-starved Araignée to regard the tenderhearted Robin who assuaged those pangs of loneliness as someone extraordinarily special.

“Needle and… thread…”

Gathering sewing implements as the boy mentally deliberated which shade would minimize any tell-tale stitching.

Since the girl’s raincoat concealed a tear in her undergarments that required mending.

Granted, the exceedingly vibrant opacity of her conspicuous yellow raincoat would likely obscure any internal mishaps regardless. Yet if repairing it, would it not be prudent to endeavor matching the stitching as seamlessly as feasible?

“You’re off to meet your friend again?”

“Hiiick!?”

As the boy made his final preparatory adjustments before departing for their oasis rendezvous, his mother’s voice startled him into nearly dropping everything with a mortified yelp.

“There is no need to be so surprised. Is it so strange for a mother to inquire after her son’s activities?”

Strange, if their bond could even be considered a conventionally maternal rapport.

The boy’s mother had never initiated any conversation with him. All their prior interactions had consisted solely of the boy addressing her first, then her responding accordingly.

“W-Well, that is…”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I am already aware you have been spending time with some young girl, though I know not her identity… yet to see my habitually timid son keeping such amicable company, she must be a delightful child indeed.”

Thus, an exchange that should have seemed innocuous between any ordinary parent and child instead filled the boy with unease and trepidation simply by dint of its unprecedented intimacy from his mother.

“Perhaps you could introduce her sometime…”

“I, I’d rather not…”

And so the boy reflexively rebuffed his mother’s request – or command, rather.

“…Eh? Wh-What do you…?”

“…?”

This marked the first occasion the boy had ever defied his mother’s directives.

That instinctive rebuttal had simply slipped out unbidden, startling the boy himself even more than his mother with this 180-degree divergence from his typical obedient conduct.

“Hmm… well, if you are so averse to the notion, I won’t insist.”

Fortunately, the mother didn’t seem perturbed by her son’s uncharacteristic insubordination, merely offering a disarming nod and dismissive wave.

“Do enjoy yourself, I suppose.”

“…Yes.”

Yet a lingering disquiet persisted that the boy couldn’t easily dispel.

Thus, he ultimately scurried away as if fleeing from home itself.

* * *

“Hmm? Why was that?”

At their oasis sanctum, Araignée recounted every detail leading up to his departure to Robin.

“…I’m not certain. Something about it simply felt… not right…”

Though resigning himself to his mother’s indifference had long become normalized, Araignée still harbored a semblance of filial affection. Otherwise he would have severed ties sooner than meekly acquiescing to her perpetual emotional neglect.

Yet for the first time, an inexplicable trepidation had compelled Araignée to defy her, however tepidly.

“I see no issue? I have met Carmen on numerous occasions myself.”

“Carmen…? Wait, how do you know my mother’s name? No, before that – how did you discern I was her son in the first place…?”

A revelation that should have shocked Araignée, yet one Robin had casually confessed.

“Well, Carmen does visit the Court of Miracles rather frequently. And Araignée, you resemble her so much. The semblance between mother and son is unmistakable to any observer.”

Araignée had remained oblivious to his mother’s societal interactions and relationships beyond their dilapidated homestead until now.

“She seems perpetually intoxicated in some manner, but I still think she’s a decent sort compared to many adults. She even shares sweets with the children on occasion.”

“…Sweets…”

A fleeting pang of resentment that this woman who had never provided him, her own child, with so much as a morsel would dote treats upon other children in their stead.

Yet Araignée ultimately chose to dismiss any excessive rumination regarding an absentee he could hardly consider a true ‘mother’ figure – for this oasis belonged solely to him and Robin.

“Should I perhaps invite her to join us sometime as well?”

“…”

Thus, the notion of introducing any third party to desecrate their private sanctum had never even occurred to Araignée.

“No.”

Though he knew precisely whom Robin referred to:

“You mean that one-armed girl, don’t you?”

“Yes. She resides within the Court of Miracles too, so why not…?”

“No, never.”

That raven-haired girl whose perpetually fluttering empty right sleeve had been such a distinctive trait.

Araignée had frequently witnessed Robin conversing with that seemingly juvenile denizen of the Court of Miracles in what had appeared an even more intimate rapport than the one they shared.

Of course, Robin’s affable disposition precluded deliberately favoring any particular individual over others. And residing together within the Court of Miracles ensured their history understandably exceeded Araignée’s own burgeoning connection.

Yet whenever he had observed Robin in that girl’s company, Araignée couldn’t repress an indistinct sense of discomfiting unease.

“Mmm… well then, if you insist.”

Mercifully, Robin didn’t belabor the issue further, sparing Araignée from needing to confront the unsightly motives fueling his reluctance.

“In that case… you had mentioned your clothes being torn last time, didn’t you?”

“Oh, that? Grandma Rosetta has already mended them for me!”

Robin lifted her raincoat to display the fresh stitching, eliciting another pang of unsavory emotions that Araignée swiftly suppressed.

“…I could have done a better job of it.”

“But Araignée, you pricked your finger so badly the last time you attempted needlework on that canvas tarp.”

Recalling the previous incident where his careless embroidery had resulted in a bloodied fingertip.

“Th-That was just a fluke mistake, normally I…”

“You were injured, Araignée.”

“…”

Unable to meet Robin’s plaintive gaze as she softly reiterated that undeniable fact.

“While my skills… may be a bit lacking, I…”

Ultimately, Araignée could only avert his downcast eyes as he trailed off into halfhearted, murmured protests.

“…Eeep!”

“Hieek!?”

Startled into an undignified yelp as Robin’s hands abruptly cupped his cheeks, nearly causing Araignée to topple over backwards.

“I have complete faith in Araignée’s abilities – you are the best seamster in all the world!”

“…N-Not to that extent… now please, release my face…!!”

“But I don’t want Araignée to injure himself again.”

An uncharacteristically solemn demeanor stilled Araignée into silence.

Her ever-upturned lips flattening, those perpetually twinkling irises dimming into pensive calm.

“Who could bear to see their precious friend getting hurt?”

Not her usual vivacious lilt, but a lower, gravely sincere timbre.

“Precious… friend…”

“Yes, that is what you are to me.”

My one and only irreplaceable friend.

“…!!”

A fleeting yet potent electric jolt that caused Araignée’s eyes to widen more expansively than ever before.

“Heeheehee, you look utterly ridiculous right now, Araignée!”

And just like that, Robin’s infectious buoyancy reasserted itself. Her familiar lilting tones, impish smile and effervescent demeanor all resurfacing as if they had never waned.

Yet those crystalline words etched themselves into Araignée’s psyche with the indelibility of a freshly seared brand.

“…”

Thump.

His heart began pulsing with a fevered cadence audible even to his own ears, having previously remained as still and silent as the grave prior to those words’ catalyzing detonation.

Eyes tightly screwed shut, Araignée surreptitiously inhaled a steadying breath to rein in his pounding heart.

“What if we too could live happily ever after someday, just like in the fairy tales?”

“Happily… ever after?”

“Yes, isn’t that the quintessential ending befitting any Prince and Princess?”

The prototypical fairy tale denouement culminating the romantic leads’ courtship – a happily ever after finale.

Granted, some tales diverged from such saccharine resolutions. The mermaid dissolving into sea-foam having failed to attain her Prince’s reciprocation, the fairy rendered a mere echoing whisper upon the wind.

“You know, I want to become like those storybook royals someday, united with my Prince. And if that Prince were to be Araignée, wouldn’t it be better?” 

Robin’s ever-radiant smile shone incandescently. 

“…Are you truly serious?”

“Of course!”

Whether her yearning stemmed from a sincere quest for eternal bliss or a fanciful infatuation with mythical archetypes couldn’t be readily discerned.

Or if her aspirations bore the weight of something far more profound – genuine romantic affections, the truth remained elusive.

“Now then, I’ll be the Prince, and Araignée the Princess!”

“…Why must I be the Princess? I am male, while you are female.”

“Well, a Prince doesn’t have to exude such melancholy as Araignée often does.”

A playful tease, perhaps even a subtly wounding barb from another’s perspective.

Yet Araignée felt no offense. Quite the contrary.

“So, no matter what happens, don’t worry! This Prince will resolve all the problems!”

Because Robin epitomized the quintessential Prince charming more befitting than anyone Araignée could envision.

And to bask in the radiance of such an incandescent presence, he could readily embrace the role of Princess without hesitation.

If it meant he could perpetually savor that dazzling sunshine smile, gaze eternally into those sparkling gemstone irises-

Then Araignée’s was just happy with that.

A dimly glimmering starlight amidst the gloaming skies, the breathtaking rose in full bloom.

The desert fox could only surrender utterly to the little Prince’s enchantment.

Thus-

* * *

“…Robin?”

“…Araig…née…”

Their annihilation had been an inevitability all along.

Because this had never been a fairy tale from the start.