{The preparations/ stand in for a twin}
In the sprawling, oppressive grandeur of the Imperial Palace, maids worked tirelessly, their movements efficient and silent.
They prepared for the grand contest that would soon consume the castle's social life.
Every surface gleamed, every silk banner hung perfectly straight, ensuring all was ready for the noble ladies vying for the position of Empress.
Meanwhile, in a private sanctuary no one dared trespass upon, a tall, handsome figure sat in quiet contemplation.
Emperor Azriel Archlys the First gazed peacefully at the rare, exotic flowers in his private garden.
This secluded realm was his only escape, a place where the weight of the crown could momentarily be lifted.
Not even Lady Luna, the rumored future Empress, was permitted here.
A guard's voice shattered the quiet. "Your Majesty, Lady Luna requests your presence."
Azriel let out a sigh of exhaustion that seemed to carry the weariness of the world.
He stood from his stone bench and walked with a slow, deliberate grace toward the palace.
"Inform her to meet me in my private study."
Minutes later, Luna was led into the austere, intimidating confines of Azriel's private domain.
"Your Majesty," Luna called out, her voice a soft, loving purr perfected for courtly ears.
She was a beautiful brunette with a blinding smile and mesmerizing blue eyes—the ideal woman, polished to perfection.
"Hope you had a wonderful trip coming to visit me," Azriel said, his tone flat, devoid of any genuine warmth.
"Your Majesty, you make it seem like I had to cross the seven seas just to see you," she said with a soft, practiced chuckle.
"Why are you here? I never sent you an invitation to be here," Azriel said, the disgust in his voice barely concealed.
Luna's nervous facade crumbled slightly.
"Uh... I'm here because I was informed that you would be hosting a contest to get a bride." Azriel raised a brow, a chilling silence hanging in the air.
"Why? I mean, why are you doing this? I thought we would be getting married soon."
Azriel scoffed, a brutal sound in the quiet study.
"Are you serious? Get married to you? Please, don't make it seem like we were in a relationship to begin with. I only agreed to this shenanigan because you begged me to help you just to boost your status. For you to suddenly have this delusional thought of yours just shows how far you'll go for fame."
"You're wrong," Luna whispered, her careful composure cracking.
"I have always loved you—not because of the fame or the wealth, but for who you are.
"Do you take me for a child you could lie to?" Azriel sighed, shaking his head.
"I expected so much from you."
Luna's hands folded into a fist underneath the table, her fingernails biting into her palms as she fought back tears.
"Y-Your Majesty, it stings that you only see me as a gold digger."
"Isn't that what you are?" He asked, tilting his head casually, the cruelty of his gaze absolute.
"I am not. It hurts the way you say it."
"I am only making this contest to know if there are beautiful young ladies I would be interested in, and if you're lucky, it could be you. All you have to do is pass every test by the end of every week," Azriel stated, outlining the terms of the cruel game.
"I'm not beautiful enough for you? I'm not good enough for you?" Luna demanded, her desperation showing.
Azriel massaged his forehead in exhaustion.
"Luna, don't make this into an issue. You are beautiful, but my Empress needs to be more than beautiful. She needs to possess the qualities of one."
"I have all the qualities an Empress could need," Luna protested.
"Then you'll have to prove that in the contest."
"I don't want to fight for you with peasants," Luna spat, forgetting that she was a duke's daughter, not of royal blood herself.
Azriel mentally scoffed at her arrogance.
"You scared that you'll lose?"
"I am not scared of some local, classless girls. I know I'm going to be with you, and you know it too. But you're making me work for your heart, and I will win," Luna said with a determined, glowing smile that failed to reach Azriel's cold eyes.
Azriel Archlys the First was the most powerful and feared Emperor in the entire country. He possessed powers far beyond any human being.
He only agreed to this contest because his younger brother saw it as a good opportunity to "mingle with young ladies.
Unfortunately, every woman was scared of him due to his immense power and the rumors of his monstrous nature; yet, they all wanted his wealth.
He sought someone who would look beyond his fame—someone who would love him and bear his children.
"Luna, return home," Azriel dismissed her. "I'll see you in a week's time during the competition."
Later in the evening, Azriel sat in his private relaxation room, a place of stark, masculine comfort.
"Brother," a voice echoed in the room, causing Azriel to glare at the intruder.
"I mean, Your Majesty," Charles corrected himself with a cheeky grin.
"I see you've taken my advice into consideration."
"I had no choice," Azriel said flatly. "The girls will be arriving in a week's time, and I've arranged everything to make their stay comfortable."
"How did Luna take the news?" Charles asked, leaning against a pillar.
"She's still determined to win."
"So predictable. She's just after your fortune, like a fly lurking around dead meat."
"Who isn't?" Azriel challenged, the bitterness evident in his tone.
"Every lady coming here has the same aim in mind."
"Not all, my dear brother. Beautiful things can be found in dirt, if only you dig deeper; then and only then shall you find the gold which you seek," Charles said with a smile that could melt the sun itself.
"By the way, how is your training going with that wizard of yours?" Azriel asked, changing the subject.
"Same old, same old," Charles replied with a shrug.
"Has your powers fully manifested?" Azriel's glare softened slightly in concern.
"It's a gradual process. I hate the fact that I'm a late bloomer."
"It can be frustrating at times, but you will get through this. I believe you'll be using your powers to protect the country."
"Why can't I be like you? Why didn't I start using my powers in the womb?" Charles asked, a rare vulnerability showing.
"You know that's what killed my mother, right?" Azriel paused, keeping his raw emotions in check.
"A day never went by without his constant reminder of what I am—a monster."
"Hey, relax. That old dirt bag is dead," Charles said, brutally pragmatic.
"Besides, he never knew greatness if it fucked him in his ass."
Azriel could only manage a faint smile.
"Even if the world sees you as a monster, you will always be my role model, and I will face the world with you, together with your future wife. Now, if you'll excuse me, that crazy wizard summons me," Charles said, disappearing with a shimmer of light.
It had been one week. A whirlwind of agony and instruction.
Anastasia had to learn how to be Guinevere—how to walk, talk, eat, and breathe like her spoiled half-sister.
Today was Saturday, the day of departure. The royal chariot, emblazoned with the Imperial Crest, pulled up in front of the house to take her and her maid, Hannah, away.
She watched as the house of her torture disappeared as the chariot drove away. No one came to see her off; how ironic.
The past week passed like a blur. Her family had acquired a new wardrobe for Gwen's "stand-in," and she was fed until her stomach hurt, all to make sure her scars weren't visible beneath the fine silks.
Anastasia stared out the window, the unfamiliar luxury of the carriage both intoxicating and terrifying.
"How do you feel?" Hannah asked, huddled across from her.
"Nervous," Anastasia muttered, the reality of her deception settling in.
"I know this is all overwhelming, but you deserve to be here more than anyone else," Hannah said, reaching out to touch her hand.
"You're just saying that."
"I mean it. You have been through a lot."
"I don't think I can do this," Anastasia said, the panic rising in her throat.
"How about we bail? How about we go somewhere no one would find us nor recognize us?"
"If we did, the Count wouldn't rest until he finds us and kills us," Hannah reminded her of the brutal reality of their world.
"I can't do this anymore. If the Emperor finds out the truth, I'd be dead."
Hannah placed her palms firmly over Anastasia's mouth. "Shh... someone would hear you."
"I can't win the competition. If I do, then Count Demetrius would use that power for evil."
"If you don't want to win this competition, then you could just try to survive till the tournament is over," Hannah suggested.
"What would happen if I don't win?" she asked, her eyes hollow.
"Your father said that if you don't win, then you would be sold to Benjamin."
The name hung in the air like a shroud of death. Benjamin, the notorious slave trader and deviant.
The Emperor's palace, even with its monstrous occupant, suddenly seemed like a sanctuary compared to Benjamin's clutches.
"That perverted priest? I would rather die than be sold to that hypocrite."
The name of Benjamin, the vile deviant who masqueraded as a man of God, was enough to make Anastasia's blood run cold.
The palace now seemed less like a potential death sentence and more like a necessary refuge.
She would take her chances with the rumored monster of an Emperor over the tangible horror of Benjamin any day.
The royal chariot stopped in front of the castle gates. The structure before them wasn't a castle; it was a fortress of imposing grandeur, a gothic masterpiece that seemed to pierce the sky.
Both girls stood in awe, staring at architecture unlike anything they had ever seen. The Count's estate was a mere shack by comparison.
Royal maids in starched uniforms immediately began picking up their belongings.
"Come this way, please," a maid gestured toward the imposing front doors.
Anastasia followed them, her movements, once clumsy and painful, now possessed a certain elegance born from a week of relentless training under Gwen's hateful eye.
She was led through echoing corridors to a grand hall where a giant door creaked open, revealing a massive bedroom.
It was bigger than the entirety of her father's house. The maids dropped the bags in a walk-in closet that felt like its own apartment.
"Excuse me, how many rooms are in the castle?" Anastasia asked, trying to gauge the sheer scale of the palace.
"There are two hundred and twenty-five bedrooms, excluding the Emperor's private rooms and his resting chambers," a maid replied with a practiced, automated tone.
"I see." Anastasia placed her hand on her chin, processing the information.
"If that is all, ma'am, then I beg to leave," the maid said. They all bowed and left, the silence of the massive room settling in around Anastasia and Hannah.
"This bedroom is massive. Hannah, can you imagine?"
"You see?" Hannah said, her eyes shining with hope. "You deserve the best life has to offer. This is the most amazing thing that could happen to you."
"I hope you aren't thinking that I would end up with the Emperor?" Anastasia asked, a dark cloud crossing her expression.
"What's wrong with that idea?" Hannah challenged.
"I am a stand-in for Guinevere. I am expected not to win," Anastasia clarified, the cynicism of her past life returning.
"We both know that wouldn't be possible to fake forever. I have to stay under the Emperor's protection without losing my life, so winning the throne isn't an option."
"Very well, if you insist, but I have a strong feeling that you will become great," Hannah said with a stubborn smile.
"How about we settle in first, then we can have this conversation in the morning?" Anastasia suggested, turning toward the immense, four-poster bed.
For the first time in her life, she didn't have to worry about leftovers or whippings. Tonight, she would sleep in silk sheets, safe from the horrors of Benjamin, and for now, that was enough.