Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 476: We Can’t Go Back

In the warm glow of candlelight, the bubbling broth simmered with rising steam, enveloping Amalia’s face in a soft haze, blurring her features with an ethereal, almost otherworldly grace.

"If my sister still doesn’t understand my feelings, then I’ll express them in another way..."

Beneath the table, two delicate, silk-clad ankles tightened, entwining firmly around Astrid’s long, smooth legs like polished obsidian. The tip of her loafer tapped faintly against the table leg, a nearly inaudible sound, unnoticed and unimportant to anyone else.

"The emotions I hold for Sister are the same as those Miss Lyra has for you."

"Or perhaps... slightly different in subtle ways. But fundamentally, they remain the spontaneous admiration and love one independent being holds for another."

Finishing her words, Amalia locked eyes with Astrid across the table, fingers tensing unconsciously. Her tone was sincere.

"It’s the same kind of relationship as the late emperor and the empress."

This intense, burning emotion went far beyond a younger sister’s simple dependence or affection. It contained something more, something unmistakably akin to romantic love.

The desire to monopolize her sister’s time and attention, to cling to her every moment, to feel her gaze brimming with affection, to do with her those intimate things only lovers who’ve pledged their lives to one another would do.

Was this truly something an ordinary little sister should desire?

"Sister..." Amalia whispered, her pink lips parting.

Even if they were both girls, even if one was empress and the other regent, even if they were unknown foster sisters, Amalia didn’t care.

Once the seed of love was planted, it would break through all barriers without regard, growing wildly in the soil of the heart. Amalia no longer wished to restrain herself, to remain just a helpless little sister watching her beloved be held and kissed by someone else.

"...I love you."

This phrase, spoken countless times before sleeping and upon waking, now carried an entirely new meaning.

Or rather, from Amalia’s perspective, each time she’d confessed her affection before, she had truly been expressing the overflowing love buried deep within her heart.

It was simply that someone had been too oblivious to consider that her sweet little sister might harbor such improper feelings for her, always blinded by the thin veil of sisterhood, completely unaware of the changes unfolding around her.

The soft rustle of silk became another sound amid the bubbling of the broth.

Astrid felt the warm, smooth touch along her legs, the delicate ankles intertwined, the soft arches of Amalia’s feet pressed against her calves. Although clearly exerting pressure, it still gave Astrid a sensation of boneless gentleness.

Amalia fell silent after speaking, merely gazing at the silver-haired beauty across the table, waiting for Astrid’s response.

The current Empress had no idea that years ago, by a moonlit lake shimmering with ripples in Morin Village, another girl in a white dress had confessed her feelings to the one she loved, then waited with the same anxious heart for a reply.

Looking down at the two silk-stockinged feet wrapped around her legs, Astrid lifted her gaze. The girl’s golden hair fell over her shoulders, her blue eyes filled with seriousness, yet tinged with unease and worry.

For a moment, Astrid didn’t know what to say. As a precaution, she picked up a nearby silk handkerchief and wiped her lips, using the brief moment to collect her thoughts.

Had she... raised Amalia incorrectly?

For Astrid, who was nominally Amalia’s sister but in reality her long-term guardian, the girl’s words felt like the cabbage she’d nurtured had suddenly learned how to steal, and she was being stolen.

It was... slightly beyond expectations.

Even if Amalia had shown her extreme affection before, Astrid had never thought much of it. The reason was simple, she understood deeply how a child deprived of love from an early age would cherish that long-delayed care. Compared to others her age, even if Amalia clung to her sister a little more, or showed more physical intimacy, it wasn’t unusual.

They were both girls. Unlike brother and sister, there was no need for avoidance between sisters. Influenced by her past life’s worldview, Astrid naturally never imagined Amalia could develop any special feelings toward her.

Moreover, she once had a real younger sister herself, someone she cherished deeply. She would never have considered such a possibility.

At least, not before that night.

The white cloth touched her lips, as her fingertips gently pressed to absorb the oil and fruit juice. Astrid’s movements slowed with thought, while Amalia’s eyes never wavered, fixed on the black-dressed princess within the candlelight.

As a sister, Amalia knew that no matter what she asked, whether it was a request, a hug, or even a kiss, Astrid would almost always comply.

But this time, wanting to transform their identity and relationship, she had no certainty. Her heart fluttered with the same anxiety and uncertainty any young girl would feel.

Tonight, the Amalia seated at the table wasn’t the Empress of the Empire, she was simply a lover yearning for more affection.

"..."

"Amalia..."

After a long pause, Astrid didn’t pull her legs away from the silk-stockinged girl’s grasp. Her crimson eyes remain gentle.

"When did you first start thinking about these things?"

It was exactly the age of first love. She should have paid closer attention to Amalia’s emotional state earlier.

Hearing Astrid’s words, Amalia pressed her lips together and replied softly.

"I don’t know."

"Perhaps I’ve thought this way for a very, very long time. Or maybe it was only after stepping from behind the scenes into the spotlight that these feelings gradually swelled."

When Astrid first brought Amalia out of the ancient castle, she was only fourteen, still young, rarely interacting with others, ignorant of emotions, and unable to express them.

The first time she moved into the Third Princess’s chambers, crawling into Astrid’s bed at night was merely out of attachment to her sister and the warmth she’d finally obtained and refused to let go.

But over time, as she grew older, that emotion had gradually transformed, becoming more active, more possessive.

Astrid’s heart stirred at her words. After a moment, she spoke.

"Then, Amalia, how did you determine that this emotion is love, rather than merely the rising possessiveness of a younger sister’s affection for her elder sister?"

Rather than flatly rejecting Amalia like a stubborn elder might, dismissing the courage it took for her to speak these feelings, Astrid asked in a relatively equal tone, seeking her interpretation of love.

When it came to romantic love between men and women, she hadn’t taught much, far less than political strategy. All of Amalia’s knowledge in this area was self-taught.

After a brief silence, Amalia spoke softly.

"Sister once told me that a true relationship is formed through shared experiences and the memories etched in the mind."

"So whenever I recall the moments I’ve spent with Sister, a trembling sensation lingers in my heart, as if my soul is wrapped in warmth, relaxed and at peace."

"I want to create more beautiful memories with Sister, turning these experiences into vessels of emotion, renewed day and night. No matter what Sister does in the future, she’ll remember that someone once walked beside her."

"This is my deepest form of possessiveness, I want Sister to become someone who can’t eat or focus on anything without me."

Her clear blue eyes stared at the dishes before her, the porcelain surface reflected dark shadows. Amalia took a deep breath, then continued.

"Just as Sister suspects, I am indeed that wicked younger sister who wants to monopolize you."

"But... which younger sister would think about doing those things with her sister?"

"I want to kiss Sister like a lover... I want to see Sister’s different side, the one she shows no one else..."

"These feelings are beyond what familial love can explain."

What is it like? What is love? Amalia hadn’t found a precise answer to that question. But she believed that right now, her declaration wasn’t merely driven by possessiveness.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have revealed those words that lowered her chances of success, nor would she have exposed to Astrid her own shameful, imperfect self.

After all, compared to love, familial bonds are more forgiving, they can tolerate members walking different paths. Love cannot.

Astrid wouldn’t refuse her requests for closeness as a sister. But this indulgence and doting wasn’t Amalia’s only goal.

She wanted Astrid to be her sister alone, and also to see her as someone trusted, someone to whom she could entrust her life, vent her emotions, and show her vulnerability. Someone more than just a sister, an actual partner.

Intimacy, passion, devotion, dependence, sexuality, understanding, responsibility, respect, definitions of love throughout history were millions. Even philosophers couldn’t give a precise answer after a lifetime of study. Yet Amalia knew one thing clearly: the motivation behind her words at this very moment.

"I also want to become Sister’s pillar of support, an inseparable part of her life."

That was the driving force that pushed Amalia this far, the ray of light she chased even in the darkness of the ancient castle.

Outside, rustling sounds came from the wind swaying the branches.

Astrid gazed silently at Amalia. After half a minute, she picked up a piece of meat and placed it into Amalia’s bowl.

"The meat will be unpleasant if it’s boiled too long."

Hearing Astrid’s words, Amalia glanced at the bowl. Her cherry-pink lips unconsciously pressed together, and she hesitated, saying nothing.

Sister...

The lack of response made Amalia the most anxious. In truth, Astrid was carefully choosing her words. After placing the food, she slowly spoke.

"I understand what Amalia means."

From these words, Astrid could feel Amalia’s genuine emotions.

Previously, she’d always treated her like a child, overlooking the fact that Amalia, as a young girl, had her own feelings. This was her oversight.

Undoubtedly, the golden-haired girl before her harbored deeper emotions towards her beyond mere familial affection.

But suddenly... her once-obedient little sister had become a passionate confessor...

Even the usually calm Astrid couldn’t quickly sort through her thoughts.

When it came to love, she loved Amalia just as deeply and unreservedly. But she’d never considered developing anything beyond a sisterly bond.

Could she truly accept growing closer with Amalia?

But if she refused... would Amalia be devastated beyond measure?

"I’ll think this through carefully before giving you an answer," Astrid said.

Looking into the woman’s bright crimson eyes, Amalia bit her lip and immediately responded.

"Are you thinking about how to gently reject me, so as not to hurt this younger sister you deeply love?"

No one understood Astrid’s gentler side better than she did.

"Sister, don’t you realize it yet?" Amalia closed her eyes, her voice trembled. "From that moment just now, everything has already changed."

After these words were spoken tonight, something had already shifted. No matter what choice Astrid made, whether to move forward or retreat, they could never return to how things were before.

This was the step she’d taken with courage, meaning that Astrid, now aware of her true feelings, would no longer allow her to express affection like a naive child. It meant the comfort zone of the obedient little sister was gradually slipping away.

Astrid remained silent, as if deep in thought, or perhaps silently accepting Amalia’s words.

Why, after Amalia’s confession, was her first thought not rejection, but whether she could truly accept her?

Only later did she consider, like a caring elder sister, how to refuse without hurting Amalia.

Why... was she hesitating?

Being with Amalia, intimate, close, like lovers.

Even the occasional brush of lips, she didn’t seem to mind at all... nor did she feel awkward or uncomfortable.

It was as if she’d already grown accustomed to doing such things with Amalia.

Even taking another step closer wasn’t an unacceptable reality.

Could it be... she’d already been slowly boiled like a frog in warm water?

A sudden pink silhouette flashed through Astrid’s mind. When she first encountered Lyra and realized for the first time that her true sexual orientation wasn’t entirely straight, her long-dormant emotions stirred.

She didn’t dislike the idea of a future with Amalia. Moreover, she’d already given her promises before.

But... Amalia was still so young. Did she truly understand the weight of love?

Emotions surged and tangled within her, a battle raged in her chest as if swords were clashing.

Suddenly, a faint sob reached her ears. Astrid lifted her head and saw the pair of tender blue eyes across the table lowered, long, soft lashes glistening with moisture, like flower buds at dawn, dew clinging to their petals.

Amalia stared at the tableware before her, her vision blurring as warm tears fell onto the table, darkening the brown wood.

"Sister..."

Seeing the table drenched by large tears, one droplet splashing onto the rim of her bowl and creating a tiny ripple, Amalia’s voice trembled, thick with self-loathing.

"After all... I still can’t do it..."

"Doing such a thing to Sister... it’s simply too much..."