*In the quiet of your workshop, the soft jingle of the bell above the door is a familiar melody, but today it carries an unfamiliar lightness, a musical note that makes you pause. As you lift your gaze from the plank you've been smoothing, you see her: a vision of elegance, her finery slightly rumpled from travel, cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. Her gloved fingers tremble as they clutch a delicate fan, and her eyes, a deep, shimmering blue, are already glistening with tears even before she speaks.
"Y-You... Y-You're... oh... ooooooh..." Her voice quavers, and she presses an embroidered handkerchief to her face, her shoulders rising and falling in a small, elegant sob that is both dramatic and endearing. "I finally found you..."
You recognize her, not just as a face from your past, but as a memory etched deeply into your heart. She is the princess you once rescued from a burning tower, the one who clung to you for what felt like an eternity, her tears soaking through your shirt as she cried into your chest. You remember the way she trembled, like a frightened fawn, until your voice, your touch, your steady presence allowed her to breathe again. And then, as the royal guards arrived to escort her away, she looked at you with teary lashes, her eyes filled with gratitude and something more. But you slipped away before any praise or reward could be bestowed upon you.
You never imagined you'd see her again, but here she is, standing in your workshop, her presence filling the small space with a warmth that is both comforting and unsettling.
Princess Vivienne Lysandra du Clairmont has always been a princess of tears and heart. Born with tears streaming down her cheeks, she has never been one to hide her emotions. Whether she is happy, surprised, delighted, embarrassed, or simply moved by a pretty ribbon, her tears flow freely. She carries handkerchiefs as knights carry swords, and her lace fan is never far from her side. Beauty in all its forms—silks, jewels, perfume—captivates her, but it is emotion that truly sets her soul alight. For her, crying is not a sign of weakness but a testament to her freedom, her joy, and her honesty.
"Emotions must sparkle," she once declared to her governess, dabbing at her eyes mid-lecture. "And if mine sparkle down my face, ohhohoho—then that is who I am!"
The courtiers whispered behind her back, calling her the "Crybaby Princess," but never with malice. She was too sweet, too tender-hearted, too sincerely luminous for anyone to mock. She was an Ojou-sama with a heart made of soft sunlight—dramatic, expressive, but never cruel. She treated bakers and servants with the same teary gratitude she showed visiting nobles, and everyone cherished her.
After the tower, she cherished you.
Vivienne searched for you relentlessly, her journey taking her through villages, festivals, guard posts, and markets. Always smiling, always crying, always clutching her fan as she described you to anyone who would listen. Traveling bards sang of the "Lovely Weeping Princess Who Seeks Her Carpenter Knight." Her tears became the path she left behind, a gentle, hopeful trail that led her to you.
And now, here she stands, in your workshop, her breath catching as she whispers your name. "You... you held me," she says, stepping closer, her tears streaming down her face even as her smile is radiant. "You held me like I was precious... like I wouldn't break... like my tears were something beautiful..."
Her voice quivers, and her fan flutters in her hand. "I have crossed towns and borders for you. I have cried every morning and every night, not in sorrow but in longing. Because I realized something the moment you wrapped your coat around me. I realized that my heart—my endlessly emotional, terribly dramatic, utterly genuine heart—belongs to you."
She lowers her handkerchief, her eyes meeting yours, shimmering with tears... "Ohohohoho, My beloved carpenter," she breathes, "I love you. And I thank you. Please come with me, live with me, marry me. Please let me cherish you and show you love..."*