---
The morning light barely squeezed through the thick, gray clouds hanging over the mountain, painting laraine's humble home in a dim glow. an unsettling silence filled the air.
inside, laraine faced the mirror, meticulously combing her hair. each stroke was slow, precise. her face was a mask, but her eyesthese icy, blue eyesburned with a restless fire.
Millis stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her quietly.
"so, you're really going," she finally murmured.
laraine paused, tying her hair into a neat braid, securing it with a plain silver clip.
"of course. wouldn't miss it," she replied calmly, turning from the mirror to grab her cloak.
"you don't owe him anything," millis whispered, her voice tight. "he tossed you away like trash."
laraine froze, her fingers gripping her cloak. "precisely," she said, her eyes darkening. "that's precisely why i must go."
millis bit her lip. "but what if it's more than a meeting? what if it's a trap? what if-
"i'm not a kid anymore, millis." laraine slung the cloak over her shoulders, her tone turning sharp. "i won't stumble in blind. nor will i leave broken."
Millis sighed in defeat. she crossed the room and slipped a small dagger into laraine's belt. "then at least, don't go defenseless."
laraine glanced down at it and back at millis, her gaze softening briefly.
"thanks," she said simply.
---
the route to luthia's capital was lengthy and merciless. sharp stones and dense forest lined the twisting trail. but laraine trod it steadily, her cloak billowing like the ghost of her past.
she passed some merchants on the road. one openly gaped at her hair.
"blue hair?" he mumbled. "isn't that the cursed colour?"
laraine glanced his way for just a moment, but he flinched and hurried off.
as the towering city walls came into view, the sun edged toward the horizon. the grand gates loomed aheadornate, golden, guarded by luthian elite in shiny silver armor.
she thought she'd get questions, or get turned away. but as she came closer, one guard stepped forward, gave a stiff bow, and opened the gates silently.
so, they were expecting her.
how handy.
the streets buzzed with voices and lights, but as laraine passed through, a strange hush fell. people stepped back. mothers pulled kids close. no one spoke, but everyone stared.
she brushed them off.
the palace loomed like a golden mountain, opulent and untouched. but as laraine crossed its gleaming courtyard, her pace slowed. she'd walked this path last, barefoot, crying, covered in snow.
now, she walked upright.
and frigid.
---
The throne room hadn't changed. Every inch of it was still polished to perfection, as if the royal family had scrubbed away every trace of her existence. Pillars of white marble towered overhead, banners carrying the royal crest of the Luthain empire hung proudly from the walls, and red carpets lined the pristine floors.
At the far end of the room, seated on his throne of iron, gold and blood of innocent people, was the man she had once called "Father."
King Walter Ashton.
He looked exactly the same. No older. No softer. His Emerald eyes bore into her soul like twin blades.
"So," Laraine said as she stopped at the foot of the throne, "what could the great King of Luthia possibly want from the daughter he abandoned?"
A tense silence followed.
Walter leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles.
"You've changed," he said at last.
Laraine gave a bitter laugh. "And you haven't."
His jaw twitched slightly.
"I didn't summon you here to reminisce," he said. "I have a task for you."
"Oh? A task? I'm flattered." She folded her arms, voice dripping with sarcasm.
The king's expression remained unreadable. "A rebellion is brewing on the southern border. They've begun targeting royal blood. I want you to go there and eliminate their leader."
Laraine stared at him with blank eyes
Then she laughed—long and loud.
"You want me—your cursed daughter—to fight for the crown? Oh, how the mighty must be desperate."
Walter didn't blink. "I want results. Not loyalty."
Laraine's smile slowly faded. "And what do I get in return?"
There was a pause. A long one.
Then—
"Recognition," the king said coldly. "You fulfill this task, and I will publicly acknowledge you as a true daughter of the crown. A princess of Luthia."
Laraine felt something shift inside her. Not joy. Not hope.
Just... calculation.
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing.
"And if I refuse?"
The king met her gaze, his voice ice. "Then I will assume your hatred outweighs your ambition. And you'll go back to rotting in the mountains. Alone."
Laraine said nothing for a long moment.
Laraine's fingers tightened around the hem of her cloak as his words landed like a stone. 'A task? From him?'
The bitterness crawled up her throat, but she swallowed it down.
'He thinks I'll just bend to his will. After everything... he hasn't changed at all'. Her gaze darkened, icy calm masking the fire that threatened to erupt beneath.
Then she smiled.
A slow, dangerous smile.
"I'll do it"
Walter raised an eyebrow, surprised at her quick acceptance.
"But don't mistake this for loyalty," she added. "This isn't for you. It's for me."
She turned on her heel, her cloak swishing behind her as she walked away without another word.
---
Back in the shadowed alcoves of the throne room, the queen—her stepmother—watched from behind a silk curtain.
"She agreed?" she murmured to the king, stepping into the light.
Walter gave a single nod.
The queen's lips curled.
"Good. Let her walk into the wolf's den. If she dies, we're rid of her. And if she lives… we'll deal with that too."
Walter's eyes darkened.
"Yes," he said softly. "Either way, the cursed blood will not stain the throne."
---