Cinder X Bella ~ One!

Isabella Vigatori, known simply as Bella by her father and the servants of the household, had been having a rough time since just before her tenth birthday, when her mother had died. Now, being just shy of fourteen years old, her father had increased his expectations of her, putting the young woman in charge of tracking all commitments and deadlines for the household. Yet, to her great frustration, no matter where she looked, she simply couldn't remember where she’d placed her notebook—the only copy she had of the tasks and schedule for the manor.

“There's going to be a visitor two hours after midday, but who is it? If we serve them incorrectly, Father is going to have a conniption.” Bella frantically opened cupboards and drawers, quickly searching through them and coming up with nothing time and time again. “If it's Sir Pertanlona, he'll be a bit easier. He's over often enough that I know he likes tea cakes, but if it's Matteo Corretto… the Duca's butler likes finger sandwiches and would likely need a room to be made up. Ugh, where is it?”

Each of the potential guests had notes written about them, such as Sir Pertanlona’s wife becoming sick if she ate certain nuts, and fresh pecan shortbread was on the plan to be served today. Bella moved into the parlor, quickly searching among the many shelves and drawers as she hummed a tune to help calm herself. Moments later, something tickled against her ankle, and she glanced down in annoyance, nearly choking on her song when she saw the adorable mouse who’d run up to listen to her melody.

Sweeping the creature to the side, she quickly shooed him away. As it scurried off, she whispered after it, “Apologies, I didn't mean to call you, little one. Be happy Father didn't see you. I'd hate to have to teach you to avoid the poisons he would put out. It would be disrespectful and unfilial. At least… that's what he would tell me.”

Bella continued on her task, grumbling softly under her voice about how strict and severe her father had become over the last few years. “I don't need another lecture about purposefully calling creatures or the dangers of my ‘cursed’ tamer skills. Seriously, where is my notebook?”

As she continued her sweep of the room, her eyes landed on a faded portrait of her mother—a woman who had been known far and wide as a powerful Beast Tamer. Bella couldn't tear her eyes away, studying the perfectly captured, carefree way her mother had held herself. She could practically hear the unbridled, common-style laughter the lady had always let fly, and for a long moment, she allowed herself to mourn her. 

Then she took a sharp breath and got back to searching. “What an ill match she and Father must have been. She was laughter and excitement, possibility and fun… and he's cold and hard, just like the coins he's always so determined to gather.”

As much as she didn't want to admit it, the memory she had of their time together had greatly dimmed over the last several years. Even then, when they’d all been together, her father had always been in the background, setting up plans for what they would be doing through the day. Conversely, her mother would be enchanting animals to do tricks for their entertainment, calling small fish to tickle their feet as they swam or even practicing different roaring cries with Bella as her father watched on with his mouth dropping in horror. In almost all the memories she had, Bella remembered her father hissing at them to act as stuffy as the ladies at court and her mother simply laughing him off. 

Just then, the clock struck ten o’clock, and Bella let out a squeal of sheer nerves as she turned and rushed up the stairs. “Only four hours to spare? How am I supposed to figure out this social conundrum if I can't find my abyssal notebook! Please be in my bedroom! I know that's unlikely, since I always keep it in the parlor, but perhaps-

“Bella? Is that you?” her father called from his study.

The girl froze on the stairs then whirled around and slowly descended the steps, calling toward the immaculately ordered room. “Yes, Father. Sorry to disturb-”

“Enough of that, come here. I won't be yelling through the house like some… banshee. What's all the ruckus?” Bella could tell by her father's tone that he was stressed, and an excuse would only cause him to take his frustrations out on her with a long-winded lecture. So she made her way to the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the room with him. The master of the house, Alaric, sat at his desk with his papers strewn before him and a frown deeply creasing his brow. “Well?”

“I don't know how it happened, Father, but I simply cannot find my…” Bella's voice trailed off as her father slapped his paper to the desk and pulled her notebook out of his drawer. Sputtering in indignation, the teen glared at the notebook, though she got control of her expression a moment later. “What? Why?”

“Why do I have this? Come now, you can't expect that this is the first time I've checked up on you. It's merely the first time I forgot to put it back after I finished.” Alaric tossed the notebook to her, then he gestured for her to take a seat. He waited for her to reluctantly sit before laying into her with a clipped tone. “As you've clearly forgotten, tonight we will be hosting Matteo Corretto. The Duca’s butler… if you’ve forgotten that, as well. Frankly, you should have informed me of his visit a week ago, as you have nothing proper to wear for his stay.”

“There's still time; I could repurpose some of my old-”

Bella's offer was cut off before she could go any further. “There's no need for you to wear old clothes like some scullery maid. I checked the schedule two weeks ago and made arrangements while waiting for you to catch your mistake and inform me of it. But here we are, the day of, and you have to rely on my forethought when I am supposed to be able to rely on yours. That's the whole purpose of giving you responsibilities, Bella. So you can be responsible for them. Now, Signor Tobias should be here within the hour with at least two new dresses in the current fashion.”

Bella felt no thrill at the new garments, as the gift was coldly offset by the disappointment burrowing into her. She clenched the arms of her chair, head low, as she was unable to meet his gaze. There was a second reason as well, so she could mouth the words of the lecture she’d heard time and again without her father seeing and realizing he was being mocked. 

“You're turning into a lovely young woman, and even with all your faults, I'll make sure you will make a fine wife for some young lordling one day. But, for this to happen, you need to focus. You need to look ahead. Living day-to-day is not the noble’s way. If you had planned ahead, as I've taught you to do, your ducks would be in a row, and I wouldn't need to be looking over your shoulder to fix your mistakes all the time. Failing to plan is planning to fail.” 

Her father leaned forward, waiting for her reply, but between the frustration of the morning and the invasion of her notes, she sounded off with something that was absolutely the wrong thing to say: “Ducks wouldn't exactly be lining up on my command anyway, would they?”

“What. Did. You. Just. Say?” Her father had gone as still as stone, and the words escaping his lips had a sharp chill which made Bella shiver. Still, she straightened in her seat and let her eyes drift to her left arm. A single swipe of her fingers would reveal her class and skills, but she didn’t dare to showcase them here. Still, she’d started this argument, and she was going to see it through. 

“You heard me. You want me to have my ducks in a row? I could have them jumping into the cooking pot for you! I could herd cats. I could be an asset to the family business, but you've refused to let me train or learn from someone who knows what they're doing! Sienna is only eleven years old, and she's already able to heal burns with merely a touch! The kitchen staff loves her, as does anyone who works with fire. But you know what? Yesterday she made fun of me, because everyone knows she has higher level skills than I do. I could be like her, better than her, but my talents are going to waste, and I'm stuck-”

“Enough.” 

Bella's tirade cut off instantly, her teeth *clicking* together, even as she locked glares with her father. 

“Be like her? You want to be like her? The very thought makes me sick. I'm protecting you, keeping you ladylike and marriageable. You think someone in high society wants to wed a willful Beast Tamer?”

Her father slowly rose to his feet, red-faced and furious, “That curse on your arm won't keep food on the table and a shelter over your head. As soon as I'm convinced you have high enough acumen with other, proper skills, we will unlock your Advanced Class at the Class Shrine. So long as the system knows you want to pursue a different path, at least your secondary class will be better suited to you.”

“You wanted a willful Beast Tamer.” Bella was on her feet, all but shouting in his face. “Food on the table? From what I remember, we had meat every day when my mother was here. We didn't need to send out for dresses when an important guest was arriving; we were able to simply purchase a new dress whenever we wanted! You weren't so angry all the time, because the horses pulling your wagons worked better, harder, and you earned more money-”

“Then she died for it, Isabella,” Alaric stated with forced calmness. “Never again will a mindless beast cross my threshold. I will not let there be a chance for a repeat of the incident which cost me my wife. Get out of my office. Go on a walk, and be presentable for the Duca’s butler when the time comes.”

She didn't move, so he stormed around her desk, gripping her arm and shoving her out of his study, slamming the door behind her. Bella slowly stumbled away, then she raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time before slamming the door of her own room and allowing furious sobbing to burst out of her.

Looking around her well-maintained room, Bella found herself glaring at the closet for being a reminder that she had gotten herself nothing suitable to wear for the guests coming for dinner. With great frustration, she admitted that, without her father planning ahead on her behalf, she would be spending the rest of the time before their guests’ arrival cutting up a dress and adding lengths and frills to another, just so she wouldn't embarrass the family. 

Glancing down at her current attire, she let out an aggravated sigh. It was suitable for tea, perhaps a lawn game such as croquet. But, as always, dinner attire had higher expectations.

“It's even worse that he's right.” Even that small concession filled her with nearly overwhelming emotion, so Bella thumped her head against the windowsill and closed her eyes, singing a few broken lines of the lullaby her mother used to sing to her.

“Sing, sweet nightingale, and someday I'll fly. Fly away with you… free and light and high.” All of her anger had drained away at this point, leaving only an empty pit in her gut. “Fly away is what I actually want to do. Fly to the Class Shrine to advance my class, to not be trapped in this monotony, always pressured to be a proper lady. If I could fly away, I'd finally be able to do the amazing things Mother did…”

Her thoughts faltered as a clatter of wings made her yelp and jump back, her eyes locking on four birds flapping just outside her window and looking at her quizzically. “Oh, not now!”

Opening her window, Bella waved her hand at the birds, who flew away without looking back. She watched them go, angry with herself for wishing she could go with them.