Maelis POV.....
I was standing on the palace balcony, hands resting against the cold marble railing, watching the garden slowly disappear beneath a blanket of snow.
Winter had arrived quietly.
The garden-once green and lively-was now painted in white. Snowflakes drifted down lazily, settling on hedges, statues, and stone paths. The air was sharp and clean, carrying laughter from below.
Several carriages rolled through the main gates one after another, their wheels crunching against the snow.
They were richly decorated, banners fluttering proudly-each one sent from a different kingdom. Kings and queens had sent gifts for their children: crates of winter clothes, luxurious fabrics, toys, rare sweets.
Servants hurried to unload them.
Below, the princes and princesses gathered excitedly. Children laughed, comparing new coats, showing off embroidered gloves and boots trimmed with fur. Snowball fights broke out, carefree and loud.
I watched quietly.
Then my gaze found him.
Riven Solcaire stood apart from the others, near the edge of the garden. No carriage stopped for him. No servants called his name. He didn't look toward the gate even once-because he already knew.
His family wouldn't send anything.
In the novel, his backstory was written like a checklist of tragedy.
His father had been a king....King Albrecht Solcaire....a man respected for his strength. His mother, however, was only a low-ranking concubine. Her pregnancy had been an accident, an embarrassment whispered about in the palace corridors.
Riven had never been welcomed.
His father died on the battlefield, defeated after suffering heavy losses. His biological mother died giving birth to him. And after that... everything fell apart.
The Queen was executed...killed by the king's own brother, Lord Vaelor Solcaire, driven by power and greed for the throne. Riven's life was spared, not out of mercy, but convenience.
They needed a sacrifice goat.
Lord Vaelor loved only one child...his own son, Edric Solcaire, weak since birth. Too fragile to survive wars, too precious to risk.
So Riven was sent instead.
Sent to the most feared kingdom on the continent.
Sent here.
As a hostage.
As a shield.
As something disposable.
Later, the story said, Riven would survive. At twenty, after Edric's death due to illness, he would become the sole heir. And the first thing he would do was execute his uncle, his wife, and everyone who had humiliated him....everyone who had insulted his mother, who had treated him as filth.
The torture he endured here would only sharpen him.
Turn him colder.
More heartless.
I knew he wouldn't die.
He was the male protagonist....the author's favorite child. No one could defeat him.
But I could still try to change my ending.
My family's ending.
My people's ending.
I exhaled slowly and turned away from the balcony.
---
I walked down into the garden.
Snow crunched beneath my boots as I stepped outside. I was dressed in white....a royal court coat tailored perfectly to my frame, white trousers, black boots polished until they reflected the light. A deep red cape flowed behind me, trimmed with gold embroidery.
My hair is long, dark, brushing my shoulders - caught snowflakes as they fell. I could feel eyes on me from all directions.
Elegant. Untouchable.
I spotted Riven immediately.
He was shivering.
His clothes were thin, clearly not meant for winter. His hands were clenched at his sides, breath visible in the cold air. No one paid him any attention. They never did.
They didn't like him-because he was smarter than them.
And honestly... that wasn't even their fault.
This was how the writer had designed them.
Still, why was I the one cursed to live here?
Why was I stuck inside a novel, carrying the weight of a future execution I hadn't committed?
Snowflakes continued to fall, soft and beautiful.
I reached for a nearby umbrella-red velvet, embroidered with gold patterns, elegant enough to be considered art. I opened it and walked over, stopping beside Riven.
I held the umbrella over him, shielding him from the falling snow.
He flinched.
Then slowly looked up.
Shock flashed across his face.
"Hold this for me," I said calmly, placing the umbrella into his hands.
He took it without questioning, fingers tightening around the handle.
I removed my coat and draped it over his shoulders once more.
"Where is the coat I gave you a few days ago?" I asked quietly, taking back the umbrella as I spoke.
All around us, gazes burned with curiosity and disbelief.
"They said I'm too filthy to wear it," Riven answered calmly. Too calmly. "So I didn't dare to wear such an expensive coat."
His words landed harder than any accusation.
It was true.
Even in his own kingdom, he had never worn expensive clothes.
I felt something dark stir inside me.
I turned slightly, my voice carrying clearly across the garden.
"From now on," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "if anyone dares to bully him, I will consider it a challenge directed at me."
Silence.
Every prince and princess stiffened.
Heads nodded quickly, fear flashing across their faces.
Riven looked stunned.
The anger he carried toward me-carefully guarded, deeply rooted-eased just a fraction. Not gone. Never gone. But loosened.
He was smart enough not to lower his guard so easily.
I understood.
"Come with me," I said.
Without waiting for a response, I turned and led him away.
---
I took him to my palace.
The crown prince's palace.
The most beautiful and luxurious residence in the kingdom-built by the king and queen themselves. Every wall was carved with intricate designs, embedded with gold, jewels, diamonds, and rare stones.
Riven's steps slowed as he entered, eyes widening slightly despite his efforts to remain composed.
Maids lined up immediately.
"Prepare clothes," I ordered. "My own. New ones will take time."
They bowed and guided Riven away.
He was taken for a royal bath.
Changed.
When he returned, dressed in my clothes, he looked... different.
The fabric fit him well. Clean. Elegant.
Cute.
I smiled to myself, careful not to let it show.
Soon, his stomach growled softly.
I invited him to dinner.
As we walked, I noticed him touching the fabric of his clothes repeatedly....fingers brushing the material as if confirming it was real.
A curious kid.
Just a kid.
And for the first time since I arrived in this world, something inside me felt... steady.
This time, I wouldn't look away.