Anna-Marie, already vaguely aware of the orphanage’s situation, could have justifiably sent her maid to verify the conditions. She’d had everything ready and waiting. That would explain the speed at which it all happened. It wasn’t a big leap of logic to assume she’d had something to do with uncovering the funds’ embezzlement too. She was one of Prince Christopher’s closest suitresses, after all, and thus had direct access to practically any matter concerning the kingdom. Orphanage funding would not have been a hard thing to investigate at all.
But I mustn’t confirm these things with Anna herself. It would be improper.
A good maid did not discuss her house’s internal affairs. Melody had learned her lesson and would not repeat her mistake.
Still, she did have one question. “Excuse me, but why is Anna your ‘goddess of fortune’? Would the title not better fit Lady Anna-Marie? If I’m understanding correctly, she’s the one who brought all this change about.”
Anna had arrived bearing aid first, true, but what Anna-Marie delivered was life-changing and sweeping in scale. To Melody, if anyone should be the orphanage’s messiah, it was the latter.
Sister Annabelle simply smiled. “Yes. You understand perfectly well.”
“I, um, don’t follow.”
The nun chuckled, amused at Melody’s confusion, then gazed out the dining hall window. A vast blue sky stretched to the horizon. “Anna left us with a short soliloquy that first day she visited. ‘I’m a woman who loves a happy ending. I like the aftertaste to be sweet, not bitter. So when I read the story of this orphanage, I planned on coming out with a smile on my face.’ Those were the words she left in her wake, and they stuck with the children. Then Lady Anna-Marie came the next day, bearing gifts and change, just as Anna had prophesied. Anna’s the one the children remember.”
“Because she divined fortune. Like a goddess.”
It all started because of Anna. To the young residents of the orphanage, she was the bringer of all their good luck. Melody nodded. It made sense now.
So why the wry smile on Sister Annabelle’s face?
“Get away!”
“Save me!”
Shrill voices filled the orphanage courtyard, children shouting and shrieking and doing what kids do best: making noise.
“Hold it, you!” Anna yelled. All in good fun, of course. They were in the middle of an intense game of tag. “You’re mine!”
“Nooo!”
“I might have gone easy on you if you’d only given up when you could!”
“G-go on without me, guys!”
It sounded very real out of context, but rest assured, it was all in service to the game. After walking her captive to the shady side of the courtyard, Anna set her sights on the other scrambling boys.
“Which one of you wants to be next?”
The screaming resumed. “Run for it!”
Anna loved seeing them laugh and smile, but deep down, she was conflicted. I don’t regret anything I did, but this sure goes against the plot.
In the original event, there were no kids scampering with glee because Anna-Marie never saved the orphanage. That was the heroine’s mission. She was supposed to witness the sorry state of it with Christopher and kick off a story arc about the embezzled funds. But Anna-Marie, and her trusty alter ego Anna, had resolved that already.
How was I supposed to go on with my life, knowing they were out here suffering?
Anna-Marie knew about the orphanage from the beginning, obviously, and what the narrative had in store for it. Then she saw it for herself, and there was something far more poignant, far more vivid to witnessing poverty as opposed to reading about it in a video game. She couldn’t wait for the plot after that. It would take three more years for the heroine to come along, and by then who could say how many of these kids would remain?
She did not regret her actions. She would not. Still. Look at me in my glass friggin’ house!
All that agonizing over the plot and doing things right and not triggering any sort of butterfly effect, and she’d been her own worst enemy all along. It was hard not to feel stupid.
“Gotcha!” Anna threw her arms around the last of her victims.
The child let out a dramatic death rattle. “I thought I would last a little longer.”
“Ten-year-olds aren’t as strong as grown-ups, and don’t you forget it.”
The boy grumbled, unwilling to admit defeat. When they arrived at his would-be prison, they found a most unexpected sight.
“Green light…” A different boy faced a tree, then whipped around. “Red light!”
The other boys froze on the spot. Anna’s previous victims, the impatient little critters, had already moved on to the next game. Needless to say, Red Light, Green Light originated from Anna.
“Well,” she said, “looks like all your running around got you left out.”
“No fair! Hey, I wanna play too! Let me join!” The boy weaseled out of her grasp and ran to join the others.
Seeing the kids move on from her so quickly and make their own fun left Anna with a weird feeling, something halfway between contentedness and loneliness.
“Anna!” A girl crouching on the other side of the tree, opposite the boys, waved to her. The rest of the girls joined her in beckoning Anna over.
Anna waved back and headed toward them.
“Look! I found this.” One of them proudly held out a four-leaf clover. This world being derived from Earth by a Japanese video game company, there was a lot of overlap between fauna, clovers being one such example.
“Oh, lucky you.” Anna grinned at her. “Bet you’ve got something nice coming your way.”
“Uh-huh!”
“Anna, I can’t do this,” another girl whined. She held a bunch of flowers in a clumsy bunch, the failed remnants of a crown.
“Why don’t I help you then?” Anna offered.
“I wanna do it!” a third girl said.
“Me too!” said another.
Thus, they set about crafting flower crowns. The luckier girls wove in their four-leaf clovers to make them extra special.