The next day, I was back in the study room where I’d retrieved Antoinette’s calligraphy pen set, exactly like the plot wanted me to be.

The love interests and I were discussing the project we’d be undertaking for the next eight months of the school year. Even though I knew the topic was already chosen by the game’s programming. Maybe I could change it, but the last things I wanted to go off-script with were my unpredictable magical abilities.

"I don’t remember much about Aconitum," I said. "Too busy trying to remember my own name and how to use a steak knife. How about I take notes and referee?"

I pointed my pen at Louis like a microphone. He was across the coffee-coloured glass table from me. "Start us off, Lou. What are you thinking?"

He not-so-subtly planted his elbows on the doodle he’d been doing in his notebook. "Um…first thing I thought of was some kind of treat? Cakes, candies, that sort of thing." Of course. Sweet little brother archetype through and through! "We could make candies that taste like crazy things, or change your hair colour for an hour. Stuff like that?"

Rémi said, "We could put surprise prank spells in them. Like those chocolate boxes where you never remember which shape is which flavour."

"Only fun pranks, though, right?"

"If you want to be boring about it, sure…"

I dutifully wrote down Lou’s idea even if we wouldn’t use it. "Fun start! Rémi?"

"Now I’m just thinking about pranks." He leaned his wooden chair on its back legs, swinging his feet onto the table and looking up at the ceiling. "I want to do something totally new. That’s why I wanted us to talk here instead of the lab or quad or something. I don’t want anyone to steal our ideas. But genius takes time. Come back to me… Next!"

Étienne took his cue, probably used to being suddenly handed a mic. "I think before narrowing down our idea, we should start by researching everything the Aconitum Corporation has made before, so we can slot into their repertoire as seamlessly as possible."

"Come on, princeling." Rémi groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "Can’t you think outside the box for once?"

"M. Delphine’s team likely don’t want to take a risk with a group of students, especially if their ideas are risky as well. If we want to win, maybe we should start with market research and improve on their previous ideas instead of forcing them to outsource to new magicians and manufact–"

"Or," Rémi drawled, "we realize that winning the love of a soul-sucking conglomerate isn’t worth it if we’re not having fun. I want to experiment a little! See what firecracker over there can do when she’s set loose! Right?" He nudged my arm with the side of his loafer.

Ping!

1. Rémi, you’re right. Fun is what matters. How weird can we get?
2. Lou, sweets are a great idea. Everyone likes candy and cute things!
3. Étienne, I agree. We should think like Georges Delphine, not like silly students.
4. What about you, Sylvain?

 

Especially since their ideas were useless, I didn’t want to seem like I was playing favourites. I still didn’t know how sensitive the game was to any approval I might show to specific guys, and I didn’t want to get in my own way before I chose the perfect guy to fall for Antoinette. So I clicked 4. Blech.

"What about you, Sylvain?"

He shrugged, silky black hair sliding off his shoulder. "You all seem determined to reach beyond your skill and means. So be it."

Rémi booed. Lou blushed and shrank in his seat like Sylvain had insulted him directly.

Étienne said evenly, "You’re top of the class. Surely you see the merit in trying magic out of your league?"

Rémi rocked his chair on its back legs, smirking. "Aha…What happened to wanting to play it safe?"

"I wanted us to do research, c’est simple. I didn’t imply our group wasn’t skilled enough to try a daring idea."

Sylvain said, "I’m not about to court chances to humiliate myself, especially with her on the team."

"You’ve both been given a great opportunity by being grouped together, actually." Étienne’s voice was perfectly even like he was speaking in a formal meeting. "She gets a good teacher, and you get an opportunity to learn patience."

Rémi shot me a raised eyebrow. I widened my eyes back at him.

Sylvain made a soft tch sound instead of pressing the issue. Either he thought Étienne had a point, or he didn't want to be too sharp with the prince when there were witnesses.

Étienne turned to me like they hadn’t had the most polite argument ever. "What about you? Even if you don't know the company details, I'm sure you have some ideas."

I hummed, pretending to mull it over. "I was thinking…could we make potions? Drinks? Sort of like what Lou said, where they each have a different effect, but these would change some part of your abilities or something."

"Like a charm?" Étienne asked.

"Sure! For a short amount of time. I read a bit about plants that sharpen your attention span and stuff like that. Could we do potions like that? One could make you smarter…another could make you stronger…maybe even luckier?"

Sylvain muttered, "Sounds ambitious."

Étienne tapped his chin. "Sounds like a lot of work."

Rémi dropped his chair back onto four feet and grinning at me, snatching the notebook away. He wrote SKILL POTIONS with a flourish and said, "Sounds awesome."

~*~

Our project proposal went off without a hitch. Prof. Dupont was into it, even complimenting the guys' unique talents and giving me hints of who to ask for help if I needed it, thanks to the game’s script. Antoinette was as icy as ever, saying that we were shooting for the moon. Ingestibles had a whole host of risks. When Louis asked if she was suggesting they pivot to charmed objects or cosmetics, she smiled tightly and insisted that we try out the potions…if we could manage them.

"I’d love to see one of you accidentally turn yourself into a toad," she said, sweetly enough that Prof. Dupont laughed along.

The specific potion types were never actually important in the plot, an oversight that plenty of fic writers tried to remedy (and yes, obviously, the sex pollen tag on AO3 was a popular one in this fandom…). We threw around some viable options. I started thinking in Skyrim and Zelda terms until we had a good selection. I couldn’t remember if they were canon or not.

A luck potion, an endurance potion, an intelligence potion, and a love potion.

I had to win that competition to stop the whistleblower and save Antoinette.

Until then, I had another focus.

Pen your own tale of romance, her calligraphy set had said. Sorry, maman, but I need to take over from here…

~*~

"Where on earth are you going, dressed like that?"

Antoinette was brutally quirking an eyebrow at me from her desk. Focused on the mirror, I fluffed my hair to get rid of the static from my peachy wool sweater and shrugged like I had no idea what she meant.

Over the past week, Antoinette went from stuffing our dorm with her friends on the regular to–after realizing I wasn’t scared off by giggles and snide comments–doing most of her studying in the library. This was the first time she was actually working alone with me in our room.

I looked down at my cozy sweater and roomy slacks like I hadn’t just been fidgeting with every fold and humming and sighing so Antoinette would look over. "Étienne invited me to a concert."

"Which concert?"

I fumbled with the French sounds of the name. "Madame Maxime Saphir."

Antoinette’s red eyebrows shot up behind her perfectly curled bangs. "The crown prince invited you to see Madame Saphir’s first show in Eavredor in a decade. And you’re wearing that?"

I can play this game just fine, Antoinette! "Er, yes? I don’t know anything about this stuff. Could you help me pick out something better?"

"Oh, no, Chloé. It’s just fine. Perfectly fine." Her voice tilted all lofty and high. She turned back to her colour-coded studying.

It was an opera with the prince–the first of Love Blooming’s mandatory one-on-one quasi-dates with the boys–and I was dressed like I was going to an office Christmas party. The game never let you choose what Marie wore pretty much ever, so I was taking my chances to bond with Antoinette wherever the programming allowed.

I opened the little jewelry box Étienne had given me. Inside were three sets of sparkly, simple earrings that must have cost crumbs to a prince. I held them up to my ears in the mirror, pointedly lingering on the red ones that would clash the worst with my pink headband. I asked, "Do you know Maxime, then?"

"Everyone with an ounce of class knows who Madame Saphir is. She’s the originating role of Ophelia Ingenue, Empress Dionne, and The Weeping Woman. Not to mention the very first female playwright to have her work bought and performed by the Matisse Touring Opera."

I’d never seen Antoinette so passionate about something. Her lecture on Madame Saphir was mainly to prepare the player to make right choices in the next conversation with Étienne (also a huge fan), but seeing the stars light up Antoinette’s blue eyes was worth way more than any prince’s approval points.

"That’s seriously impressive. Are you a fan?"

Antoinette finally set down her highlighters. "Obviously. I used to beg my father to let me sing her songs for our family galas. He wanted dull childish poetry. I wanted Madame Saphir’s tragic arias. My mother persuaded him to let me."

"You can sing!"

She scoffed. "I could. The cough took that away from me as an adolescent."

Marie had never asked the question I did, so this was all new to me. Antoinette and her mother must have been pretty close. Understandable–I couldn’t imagine a father who ran the biggest business in the continent would have much time to learn about your music tastes.

"Wait." I tilted my head at her, putting in the clashing ruby earrings. "You said this was her only show in the kingdom. Then why aren’t you going?" You sure have the money!

Antoinette frowned, lips locked.

I knew why. This part of the game was for players to learn more about Étienne, not kick up conflict. Antoinette was useless to the writers if she wasn’t causing problems. She may as well not exist outside of her hate for Marie and her love of man-snatching.

"Why don’t you come with us?" I asked.

I’d been meaning to invite her anyways, but Antoinette’s off-script information gave me a better in than I ever imagined. 

True confusion crossed her wonderfully pretty face. "Why would you invite me?"

"I don’t know anything about the show or the singer, and I barely remember who the king is; I’m not gonna get the cultural relevance. Étienne’s a fan, so he’ll be bored out of his mind with me. I bet you two will actually get something deep out of the show. Besides," I shrugged, "Maxime sounds like the kind of feminist creative I want to support. If people see the Delphine daughter in attendance, it’ll boost her reputation, right?"

Antoinette seemed unimpressed, but I could practically see the gears turning in her head. She either knew I had a point…or her wish to see the opera was even stronger than her bitterness.

Finally, she closed her notebook, latched her metal pencil case, and stood. "If I’m going, people will judge me by the company I keep. And I’ll be honest, that outfit is not fine. How did you even get the earrings wrong? Sit down and let me find something that will at least help you masquerade as someone of worth."

I hopped onto the bed, kicking my feet a little. Getting Antoinette and Étienne together might be easier than I thought.

~*~

Étienne had to take care of business at the palace, so he’d sent out a private carriage to La Belle Lavande to pick me up (plus Antoinette). The carriage practically trumpeted its royal status: a duo of beautiful roan horses with fluffy dancing feathers on their bridles pulled a glossy gold cab bearing the royal insignia of two falcons mid-flight.

"You can go ahead first," I said to Antoinette when the footman offered an arm at the door.

"No. Get in."

"Oh. Okay, then." I climbed in with the footman’s help then clumsily scooted across the plush bench to the far window. Was that Antoinette’s weird attempt at expressing her thanks for inviting her? I guess that was her best way to get around her villainess programming.

During the half hour ride into the city, I encourage Antoinette to tell me about her singing career, all new info to even the most dedicated fic writer. If I told stacistar even a fraction of this, she’d invent a whole new AU and a 30k slow-burn Marie x Antoinette fic in a week.

Apparently, a young Antoinette started singing at her father’s parties, charming everyone with her adorable, cherubic talents. She later performed on small stages around the county, getting to tour for half a year with the opera as one half of a child duet in a reproduction of Ophelia Ingenue, and by the way her words sped up, I could tell she really loved it. She caught the cough when she turned fourteen, and her vocal cords were fried. It lent a gorgeous little rasp to her voice at twenty-four years old, sure, but I could do without that if it meant she got to sing the way she wanted.

We pulled up to the opera house and there Étienne was, standing in the pendant-shaped driveway with his retinue of staff by his sides, their hands on their sword hilts. When the footman opened the carriage door, Étienne practically clicked his heels and offered an arm–

Until Antoinette stepped out.

To his credit, confusion flashed on his face for barely a second before he put his polite princely pleasantries into overdrive. He bowed. "Ah, Miss Delphine, you–"

"Call me Antoinette, why don’t you?" She took his proffered arm.

Huh. So that’s why she wanted to get in second.

Okay, a bit of a rocky start, but Étienne was so gentlemanly that he’d follow Antoinette’s every nudge. Maybe he’d follow the fiction rule of forced proximity, too, and find things he loved about her.

The footman helped me out of the carriage. I gave Étienne a big smile. "The more the merrier, right? She’s a huge fan of Maxime!"

"Madame Saphir," Antoinette corrected through her teeth.

God bless Étienne and his people-pleasing. He relaxed into a smile and directed its light to both Antoinette and I, though I knew he was bummed to not get a private night with the accidentally-oh-so-alluring PC.