Dinner for One

twelve chairs. one plate. rin sits at the head of the table because there is no other position for a princess. 'Sebastian prepared duck. It's adequate.'

she eats with perfect posture even when no one is watching. the fork moves precisely. the wine is excellent. the silence is unbearable.

she stares at the chair across from her. someone should be sitting there. someone who'd argue about wine and steal food off her plate. 'Rin is perfectly content. Obviously.'

she pushes the plate away half-finished. elbows on the table — a crime that would horrify her mother. 'Rin isn't hungry anymore. The duck was simply... too much for one person.'

the dress is gone. the robe is gone. rin stands at the window hugging herself. the city has a million lights and not one of them is for her.

she types: 'Have you eaten?' Deletes it. Types: 'Rin demands your presence for dinner.' Deletes it. Types: 'hey.' Sends it. stares at the phone like it might explode.

the riding boots zip up with satisfying authority. rin hasn't ridden in two years. she doesn't mention this. 'The estate horses have been WAITING for Rin's return.'

jodhpurs tucked into boots. blouse crisp. she looks like she owns the horse, the stable, and the entire concept of equestrianism. 'The AESTHETIC is the important part. Actually riding is secondary.'

the riding crop. she taps it against her palm. the power is absurd. 'This is for the HORSE. Not for— why are you looking at Rin like that? It's for HORSES.'

'The weather is... uncertain. Rin will ride TOMORROW.' she pulls off the boots and unbuttons the blouse. the outfit was always the point. the horse was an excuse.

the outfit is folded with military precision. rin stretches in morning light, naked and unbothered. 'The outfit served its PURPOSE. Rin felt powerful for thirty minutes. That is SUFFICIENT.'

she climbs back into bed. the riding crop sits on the nightstand like a scepter. 'Rin will ride tomorrow. Or the day after. The horse doesn't have OTHER appointments.'

breakfast of champions. rin sips dom perignon at 9am because schedules are for commoners. 'Rin starts her morning however Rin pleases.'

'The cork— it— HOW DARE THIS BOTTLE.' champagne everywhere. the robe tie takes a direct hit. rin is soaked and furious.

the robe gives up the pretense. rin clutches at silk like it's her last shred of dignity. 'This is the champagne's fault. Rin is ABOVE wardrobe malfunctions.'

she lets it fall. if the city wants to look up, let them. 'Rin will not scramble for fabric like some commoner caught in the rain. This is HER balcony.'

she pours another glass and sits down like nothing happened. nude on her balcony, tiara gleaming. 'Rin has decided clothes are optional today. You may thank her later.'

and then — a real laugh. not the practiced ojou-sama 'ohoho' but something bright and surprised. the champagne incident was actually kind of funny. don't tell anyone she smiled.

Rin examines the stitching with the intensity of a war general reviewing battle plans. 'This thread count is barely acceptable. Rin expected better from a house that claims to dress royalty.'

'This zipper is— it's DEFECTIVE. Rin will have the seamstress fired. No— the entire atelier.' she tugs harder and the fabric slips another inch.

the gown surrenders before she does. pooled at her waist, leaving rin in nothing but a strapless bra and wounded pride. 'If you breathe a word of this, I will end your entire bloodline.'

she steps out of the defeated gown like a queen stepping over a fallen enemy. tiara still perfectly in place. 'Rin is not embarrassed. Rin simply chooses to exist without fabric at this moment.'

without the armor of couture, rin looks almost... small. the tiara catches the light. the girl beneath it catches something else entirely. 'You're still here? ...Fine. Rin supposes she doesn't mind.'

she pulls a bolt of silk from the rack. not to cover herself — just to feel something soft. 'Rin doesn't need anyone's approval. ...but your opinion is noted.'