Primrose woke up to the sound of horrible singing and the sight of her entire family standing at the foot of her bed. Papa and Baby Wiseman both managed to make a cheerful song into more of a monotone poetry reading. Paien forgot to breathe between the words, while Rowboat didn’t even know them. Shimri was the only one with any singing talent, but he kept elongating notes like an opera singer and messing up the tempo. It took her a moment to comprehend what was happening, but when she did, she broke into a delighted smile. Today was her birthday! Papa had told her that they sang on birthdays!
“Happy fourth birthday, Rosie.” Her Papa told her as he put down a tray in her lap and kissed the top of her head. She really liked it when people used her nickname, especially Papa, because Papa always called things by their proper names. Except for her. Except for Rosie.
She couldn’t help but rub her hands together in excitement as she looked down at the tray. It had a miniature blueberry pie with four candles in it, a bouquet of wildflowers, a cup of hot chocolate, and a neatly wrapped present. “That present is from me. You’ll get the other presents in the afternoon.” Papa confirmed, pointing to the wooden box with the red ribbon tied around it.
Primrose grabbed the card attached to the present and carefully inspected it. It had poorly drawn flowers on it, no doubt drawn by her Papa. She ran her finger over the words, sounding them out like she had been taught. “Ha-puh-y, Happy. Buh-rr-the-ah-y, Birthday!” She couldn’t write yet, but she could read if she sounded everything out. She hadn’t figured out fonts yet, though, so her Papa’s handwriting was the only one she could read.
When she unwrapped the box, she came face to face with an intricate wooden doll. It had been painted to have pale skin, rosy cheeks, and soft blue eyes. It had light blonde hair in curls and the same fox ears that Primrose had. The dress she wore was clearly custom-made, as it looked identical to Primrose’s favorite red dress, even down to the bird pattern on the petticoat. “She looks like me! Thank you, Papa!” She exclaimed as she hugged the doll close to her chest, nuzzling the soft hair into her cheek. “I’m gonna name you Rosemary!”
Primrose was dressed in her brand new birthday dress. It was rose-themed like most of her dresses, but a lot more elaborate than her everyday dresses. Her dress was so poofy that she had to take tiny steps whenever she walked, but she was adamant that her birthday dress needed ultimate poof. Her hair had been put up in her signature princess ringlets, but her Papa had allowed her to spray her hair with perfume just for today. Rose scented, of course. Rosemary, her precious doll, was dressed in the same outfit to match.
She was riding in a proper carriage for the first time in her life and she couldn’t help but be excited. They had bought a cheap, broken down, one a few years ago, and Shimri spent his free time working on it for fun. He had finished it a few days prior, and after a bunch of safety checks, she was finally allowed to ride in it. Wiseman had even painted their family emblem on it, a silver balance scale.
“I feel like a real princess,” she said with a smile that she could barely keep contained. Her eyes were glued out the window, watching the streets of Swaan pass by as the horses trotted steadily. “Thank you for finishing in time for my birthday, Mishi!” Mishi is what she called Shimri when she was too young to say his name properly, but it had stuck as a nickname ever since.
“It was a coincidence,” Shimri mumbled back. It was a lie, of course, he had worked late into the night to get it finished in time. He was almost an adult, yet he struggled with showing affection to his family. His way of showing that he cared was indirect, like spending all morning doing his little cousin’s hair then saying he just did it out of boredom.
“Are ya sure you don’t wanna sit with us?” Paien asked for the fifth time today. His precious little sister had been practically glued to his hip before, and he struggled to come to terms with the fact that she would rather spend time with her own friends. Her interests had shifted to more girly things like fairy tales and dolls, and while he played along with her princess games, he would much rather play in the mud with her like they used to.
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“I’m seven now, brother! I have to be a proper host and sit with my guests! I can’t ignore them like a baby!” Primrose retorted, turning her nose up to her brother’s foolishness. She had only recently understood that she was a noble lady like in her stories, and now everything she did had to be ladylike and proper. Just like in her stories.
“You’re not proper anythin’! You’re just having a birthday party!”
“I’m hosting a tea party to celebrate my seventh birthday!”
“My lady, we give you our heartfelt congratulations on your seventh birthday,” Primrose was greeted by the little ladies of Swaan’s upper class as soon as she walked into the tea room where she was hosting her party. She had gotten used to being the most important person in her social circle, and she reveled in the feeling of being respected and looked up to. Norman was slightly worried about her growing ego, but she was the only one in the family who acted like a proper noble, so it was probably fine.
“Thank you all for coming to celebrate with me. I am so glad that everyone could make time out of their busy schedule to come.” Primrose tilted her head and collapsed her hands together in an effort to look like a proper princess, the kind that people aspired to be because of how lovely she was. After receiving everyone’s greetings and shooing her family away, she sat down at the head of the table. The spot that was reserved for Violetta when she was the most important one there, but now was reserved for the only noble lady in Swaan.
The table was filled with sweets of all kinds. Pies, tarts, truffles, and cookies were just a few of the items offered. They were beautifully made and clearly made with rare and expensive ingredients. The thing that made them taste the best, though, was the fact that they were free. “My lady, I know how much you adore pie, so the family of Palus has brought this honey custard pie for your enjoyment. It was prepared by our personal team of cooks.” One of the girls explained as she placed the golden pie on the table.
“My lady! The family of Sunlake wishes you a happy birthday with these sweets from the capital! They’re lavender flavored as my lady enjoys floral flavors, and they’re clear like crystals.” Another girl placed a box of flower-shaped hard candy on the table, along with a card to express her well wishes. The candy looked expensive, the kind of expensive that would put a dent in anyone’s wallet, yet they were offered to a little girl.
There was a reason for this, of course. Swaan etiquette dictated that things like ornaments or room decor should only be gifted to those of lower status. If you wanted to gift something to someone of a higher social status, then you could only gift food. Giving a gift in high society was an opportunity to show off about how well off you were by giving something the recipient couldn’t afford. “Look at how wealthy I am, you can’t afford something pretty as this, but I am so well off that I can afford to give it away.” was the general message. Subtly bragging to a person of higher status was seen as crass and shameless, so food was given instead.
“These bonbons are lovely, Georgina. Thank you ever so much for thinking about my tastes.” The birthday girl complimented as she opened a premium box of chocolate truffles filled with hibiscus jam. Primrose absolutely adored floral flavors, which was weird for a little girl. It was very good for those buying her gifts, though, as almost every sweet marketed towards upper class women had some sort of flowery flavor. Not because people found it good, but because it was seen as refined and ladylike.
The big event, though, was the birthday cake. She had eaten a pie at home on every previous birthday, but this year, her Papa had gotten her a proper cake. Her and every other little girl’s eyes lit up as the three-tiered cake was placed in the middle of the table. It was covered in dark red berry cream and covered in little white flowers and seven white candles. The top two layers said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” on them in her Papa’s handwriting, and the bottom one said “ROSIE”. She wanted to be upset that it didn’t say her proper name, but she couldn’t, she was Primrose to the girls here, but she was her Papa’s Rosie.
After blowing out the candles and receiving a round of applause, the cake was cut. The first, and biggest, piece went to the birthday girl. The next ones were for her siblings and cousin, who had been banished to the adjacent room where the guests' parents socialized. Rowboat, who was the one cutting the cake, snuck a piece for herself, and her Papa scraped all the frosting off of his piece. When everyone at the party had their own slice, Primrose couldn’t hold back any longer.
Her persona as a beautiful and elegant noble lady was thrown out as soon as she got a mouthful of food. The same was true for the other girls in attendance. Rosie got the berry cream all over her hands and her hair as she shoveled the cake in her mouth, laughing at how messy everyone suddenly became. Nobody could blame her, though. She might have been a noble lady, but she was still only seven.
