The Regressed Princess - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Pursuit

“Caught you, Princess.”

The first birds of the morning chirped daintily. The Divine Servants opened the courtyard gates, sweeping the path for “Angie,” who had finished her ritual bath. The clean floor tiles shimmered with a jade-like luster.

Eleanor changed into a pure white gown a symbol of rebirth and stepped onto the porch barefoot.

The High Priestess draped a thin veil over her, then raised her hands toward the sky, declaring loudly: “I stake my life and honor upon the loyalty of Angie Princess Eleanor within this marriage.”

A priestess to the left handed her a walnut staff. Lower-ranking attendants diligently applied insect-repelling fragrant oils to her wrists and ankles, chanting softly as they worked: “I have witnessed that you have poured your whole heart into your home.”

Finally, the priestess in the pale yellow robe approached. She held a pair of sturdy shoes and knelt on one knee before Eleanor. As she carefully put them on her, she whispered: “I was raised by your grace; it is only right that I reduce your pain.”

After the attendants finished adorning her, they respectfully withdrew to the sides, scattering petals and offering blessings.

The High Priestess walked to the mountain path and said softly, “Fear not, the Goddess is already waiting for you at the summit. Please, let me accompany you for a short distance more.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said sincerely.

If she strictly followed tradition, someone like her—who had never given birth would have to climb the mountain barefoot to obtain a divorce. The servants of the Goddess of Love were not only turning a blind eye to this but had also provided her with a walking stick.

“Compared to your contributions, this is a trifle,” the priestess smiled, leading the way.

The path beneath their feet was exceptionally smooth. Despite it being the lush height of summer, the bushes on either side had been neatly trimmed back, leaving almost no prickly plants in sight.

After walking several dozen paces, the priestess stopped at the entrance to the forest, gently halting Eleanor before she entered.

“Angie, please wait.” She spoke with a voice full of emotion. “I know you are not someone who breaks a marriage or a promise lightly. If you have any grievances, I am willing to listen.”

Eleanor turned around and, after a moment of silence, could only offer a bitter smile. How could I even begin to explain?

Whenever anyone mentioned Andra, they praised her beauty, her power, and her capability. Whenever anyone mentioned Andra to her, she thought of their past sweetness and even smiled from her heart. So those fissures—could they truly understand them?

Seeing the Queen’s distress, the priestess asked tentatively, “Is it because of children? A biological child is indeed a powerful bond between lovers. If it is because of this… my Lord has—”

“No! It has nothing to do with children. It has nothing to do with any child.” Eleanor firmly grasped the priestess’s hand, stopping her from continuing that topic.

She was truly unwilling to let another good person, like Hudora, fall into an awkward position because of her dispute with Andra. Or… to bring a new life into the world just to mend the cracks between them.

How could she not care about Andra’s children at all? But those matters were Andra’s fault, and Andra’s alone.

Eleanor gazed into the priestess’s eyes, her unwavering look and firm tone convincing the kind woman. A look of “as I thought” relief appeared on the priestess’s face. She stepped forward, tentatively holding Eleanor’s hand back, and whispered, “Perhaps you have heard a folk tale. Long ago, there was a couple who loved each other dearly. One went out to catch fish, and the other stayed home to chop wood and cook.”

“Every time, the one who cooked was responsible for dividing the fish. She would cut the fish in half, giving the meaty section with the head to her lover and keeping the bony tail for herself.”

“As days went by, the cook grew resentful: ‘I give you the delicious head every time; can’t you think of me even once?’ So one evening, she slammed the fish tail into her lover’s bowl.”

Hearing this, Eleanor smiled. She had heard this story, and in her original world, there was another version. She didn’t interrupt, but when the priestess reached the ending—The lover cried and said, ‘You finally felt willing to share the delicious fish tail with me’—Eleanor nodded and then shook her head.

“No, our… reason isn’t like that.”

The priestess’s eyes reflected the Queen’s smile, weak and gentle. Eleanor held her hand and whispered, “Andra… she is the type of person who would pile a mountain of fish in front of me.”

“Then why…?”

In the moment she looked up, Eleanor’s eyes seemed to shimmer with countless broken fragments. “Because Andra never cared about my thoughts, and she certainly didn’t care about the fish.”

The priestess froze, then hurriedly tried to mend the situation. “Perhaps… perhaps if you and Anya sat down for a proper talk, everything would be different. Marriage and love are between two people… and…

” She bit her lip as if making a final resolution, took a deep breath, and said loudly, “Angie, if Andra if Anya has made you feel humiliated or uneasy in any way, please tell me. As a servant of the Goddess of Love, the Goddess and I will surely demand justice for you. You do not need to climb the mountain; that would cause you to lose the rights you are entitled to!”

Truly… a sincere plea. How could I deserve such a sacrifice?

Eleanor smiled under the warm sun, then waved her hand and turned toward the forest.

“Angie think of the people of Hetuya! This is your country!” the priestess shouted at her retreating back.

The Queen’s figure disappeared into the woods, her voice faint: “Nolanna… my motherland has fallen. My elder sister was killed by Andra.”

The priestess’s chasing footsteps faltered and stopped. Her feet felt as if they were scalded, glued to the ground outside the forest. After a long time, she cupped her hands and shouted toward the endless trees: “Angie Princess Eleanor! Where will you go after this?”

Where could you possibly go?

She received no answer. In the vast forest, there was only the sound of leaves chasing the wind.

The summer breeze blew over her in waves of heat, but as Eleanor delved deeper into the dense woods, a mist of moisture rose and coated her skin. The sensation was somewhat sticky, but her skin no longer felt so parched.

Where will I go, and what can I do? Her feet did not pause; she continued forward.

Eleanor did not blame the priestesses for their repeated attempts to stop her. In their eyes, a Queen who had lost her motherland and had cut her hair before the Goddess to declare a clean break with Anya would truly have nowhere to go. Andra possessed the strongest army. The temple could temporarily take in a divorced Eleanor, but as soon as Andra exerted a little pressure, they would have to compromise. At that point, Eleanor might no longer be anyone’s wife, but what would that even matter?

Home? Nolanna was gone. Where was home? A princess of a fallen nation divorcing the one who destroyed it, only to return to her ruins—it seemed like the cruelest joke.

Ah, so where am I going? Death?

Eleanor kept walking, face after face surfacing in her mind. First, her surviving followers: Hudora, Coral’s daughter Little Coral and her most loyal guard, Manju. Then, the faces of many who had passed away, all of whom had believed she and Andra could forge a better future. Or perhaps, they simply believed in her.

I understand now.

Eleanor suddenly knew what she wanted to do. I want to open a better future for even more people.

Gods, is it too late for such a dream?

She looked up. The dense trees lowered their branches for her, revealing bright red silk ribbons. They weren’t hallucinations; they were real markers. The priestesses had spent the night trimming branches and hanging striking silk to guide her along the clearest, easiest path.

“Ha…” Eleanor wiped a tear from her eye, pressing her palm to her chest.

How wonderful. I’m so glad I brought the methods of sericulture and silk spinning to this world.

To repay this pure kindness, she had to make her vow before the statue and then head toward a broader world. Before her life completely faded, she would release as much energy as possible!

Her weak legs were suddenly infused with new strength. In an instant, Eleanor forgot her physical pain. She ran lightly over the grass, a flushed smile on her face. Her chest heaved with the movement as she breathed deeply among the vivid silk ribbons.

Rustle.

Eleanor’s hair ribbon fell off during the run, leaving only a rose hair-pin holding the last few strands. Her long black hair scattered in the wind.

Thump, thump.

The surrounding woods grew deeper. Her frail body began to struggle. Eleanor leaned one hand against a tree trunk, clutching her chest and breathing deeply.

Sough, rustle…

Eleanor froze instantly. She tilted her head to listen; it sounded like the subtle friction of grass. No, not just friction it was coming toward her!

Her back was instantly soaked in sweat. Eleanor swallowed a mouthful of slightly metallic saliva. She stood still, but the dark shadow behind her continued to move slowly through the undergrowth.

To make such a sound, it had to be large. A lion? A tiger? In mountains this vast, perhaps a brown bear!

Rip!

Eleanor gritted her teeth, tore her skirt for mobility, and bolted. The shadow paused for a moment, then gave chase at an even higher speed.

Snap, crackle. Thud, thud.

The rhythms were completely different. Eleanor’s face was flushed; a dull pain radiated from her chest and abdomen, yet the sound in her ears grew louder. Her vision began to blur. She could only barely make out the red silk on the branches, running along that path of vivid red.

Whoosh.

The sound of wind whipped from the side, a light, crisp snap like a leopard mid-sprint. Eleanor dodged in a panic, stepping on a broken branch.

“Ah—!”

Thud.

The dark shadow enveloped her from behind. There was no imagined pain, only a pair of strong arms.

“Are you all right, Eleanor?”

Golden-red hair mingled with jet-black strands like a cascading wildfire. Andra caught Eleanor’s off-balance body, locking her firmly into a warm embrace, letting her thin wife nestle tightly against her solid chest.

“Whew~” She pressed her cheek hard against Eleanor’s, then lowered her head to study her minutely for a long time.

Eleanor looked up, gazing at her lover’s young face… no, a face far more captivating than in her youth.

Seeing her wife’s stunned expression, Andra’s lips curled into a subtle smirk. She lowered her head at the right moment, whispering intimately against her wife’s ear:

“Caught you, my little princess.”

Eleanor stared up at her. In her daze, she seemed to see that sun-drenched garden from her childhood. And the girl from that year tumbled out from behind the bushes, wrapping her grass-stained arms around her waist to present a rose in full bloom.

“Caught you, Princess.”

Support The Regressed Princess