Third Person's POV
The court was gathered for routine petitions, nobles and councilors lining the glittering throne room. Sunlight spilled through high windows, painting the marble floor gold. But what unfolded was no matter of state.
Talia stood before her throne, her gown catching the light like fire. Across from her, Caelen stood tall, Maris at his side, one hand settled boldly at the curve of her swollen belly. Murmurs rippled through the chamber — scandal, disbelief, fascination.
The queen's attendants held their breath, but Talia's golden eyes did not waver.
"I never thought you would humiliate me so openly," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the hall. "To bring her into these sacred halls, to flaunt her before my people… was it not enough to keep your betrayal hidden?"
Gasps echoed. Heads turned. Some courtiers dropped their gazes in shame — others leaned forward eagerly to catch every word.
Caelen's jaw tightened, but he did not retreat. "You've made your discontent known, Talia. But you forget — this child is Solara's future. You could not give me that. She can."
The words rang out like a death knell.
Talia's chest tightened, but her expression remained unshaken. "Do not mistake inheritance for destiny," she said, her voice steady as steel. "I am Solara's rightful heir. Its crown, its people, its light — they are mine by blood. You were only ever given a place at my side."
A ripple of whispers tore through the crowd. For the first time, Maris's smug smile faltered.
Caelen's lips curved faintly, cruelly. "Perhaps. And yet, here I stand. At your side still. And she stands here, carrying what you could not."
Talia's breath hitched — not in weakness, but in clarity. The final blow had fallen, and with it, the last tether to the man she once loved. He was gone. All that remained was a hollow king clinging to power through betrayal.
She drew herself taller, sunlight spilling across her as though the heavens themselves bore witness. "Then take her, and your child. But hear me now — you will never again have me."
The chamber stilled. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
Talia turned, her gown flowing behind her like a wave of light, and walked from the throne room without faltering. Her people parted for her, eyes wide, some with awe, some with sorrow, but none could deny her radiance.
Behind her, Maris leaned close to Caelen, whispering words only he could hear. His smirk deepened as he watched his queen's retreating figure, convinced her final declaration was a surrender.
To him, this was victory.
But in truth, before all of Solara's court, he had just lost her forever.
The Sealed Garden loomed in the quiet dark, its great iron doors veined with faded gold, dust clinging to their edges. Few dared come here anymore — the sanctuary of a queen long gone, locked away after her passing.
Talia stood before it, her hand resting against the cool metal. The last of her strength unraveled in the shadows. The fury that had kept her upright through the day was gone, leaving her trembling, hollow, undone.
Her breath hitched as sobs rose, uncontrollable this time. "Mother," she whispered against the sealed door, her tears slipping hot down her cheeks. "I cannot do this anymore. I cannot carry him. I cannot carry this crown alone."
A soft sound stirred behind her — footsteps, steady and sure.
"Talia."
The voice was low, rich, gentle in a way she had not expected. She turned, golden eyes shimmering with grief, and saw Rhenessa emerging from the shadows. Cloaked in deep green, her presence was steady as stone, yet her expression softened the moment she took in the sight of the queen's tears.
Talia's composure broke completely. She stumbled forward, her voice cracking. "He stood there, before all of them, with her at his side — as though I were nothing! As though I were already gone!"
Rhenessa closed the distance swiftly, catching her before she could fall to her knees. Strong arms wrapped around her trembling frame, holding her firmly against a chest that smelled faintly of smoke and steel.
"You are not nothing," Rhenessa murmured fiercely, her voice a vow pressed against Talia's hair. "You are the sun itself. And no shadow, no betrayal, can ever dim you."
Talia clung to her, sobs breaking loose in waves. For the first time in years, she let herself cry freely in another's arms — not hidden, not contained, but fully seen.
Rhenessa said nothing more, only held her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other bracing her against the weight of grief. And in that silence, Talia felt something she had thought lost forever: safety.
When the storm of tears subsided, she drew back slightly, her cheeks wet, her golden eyes luminous even in sorrow. "Why are you here?" she whispered, her voice fragile. "Why do you care?"
Rhenessa's violet eyes softened, her hand brushing gently across Talia's damp cheek. "Because I see you, Talia. And I will not let you break."
The words sank into her like balm, dangerous and tender all at once. Before the sealed garden of her mother, Talia felt something shift deep inside her — a seed planted in shadow, yearning toward light.
And though she could not yet name it, she knew: tonight was the moment she finally let go of Caelen. And began to reach for something far greater.
Rhenessa's embrace steadied her, but it was the quiet curve of her smile that made Talia's heart lift, even through the ache.
"You carry the weight of a kingdom," Rhenessa said gently. "But sometimes… even queens are allowed to lay it down. If only for a breath."
Talia let out a trembling laugh, brushing at her cheeks. "A breath. I've forgotten what that feels like."
"Then let me remind you."
Her words, simple and fierce, were a balm. For the first time in days, Talia felt warmth rise in her chest that was not born of sorrow but of possibility.
Her gaze drifted back to the great iron doors before them — the Sealed Garden. Her mother's sanctuary.
"I haven't set foot inside since she died," Talia whispered. "They locked it away, said it was better to let the past rest. But I… I've always wondered."
Rhenessa stepped closer to the doors, her hand brushing the tarnished gold vines etched into the metal. "Then wonder no longer. The past does not need to be buried. It can guide you, if you're willing to face it."
Talia's heart beat faster. She pressed her palm flat to the cool iron. Her sunlight stirred, faint and golden beneath her skin, tracing along her fingertips like liquid flame.
The locks groaned. The carvings shimmered faintly, as if awakening from a long sleep. With a deep breath, Talia pushed. The iron doors shuddered, then slowly yielded, opening with a sigh that stirred the dust of years.
Beyond lay a hidden garden, bathed in pale moonlight that filtered through cracks in the stone ceiling above. Overgrown vines coiled around marble arches, blossoms long untended glimmered faintly with wild magic, and at the center stood a dry fountain carved in the likeness of a radiant sun.
Talia's breath caught. "It's… exactly as I remember."
Rhenessa's eyes softened as she stepped beside her. "It's beautiful. Like you."
Talia glanced at her, startled by the unguarded tenderness in the Empress's tone. For a moment, she didn't know whether to laugh or weep again — so she did neither. Instead, she walked forward, her fingertips brushing the wild blossoms, her glow illuminating the forgotten sanctuary.
Rhenessa followed, her gaze never leaving her. And in that sacred place, surrounded by memory and moonlight, Talia felt her sorrow ease for the first time in years.
The air inside the Sealed Garden felt different — softer, freer. Wild blossoms spilled across the cracked stone paths, their colors muted by the moonlight but glowing faintly where Talia's magic brushed them.
She sank into a patch of flowers near the base of the fountain, the silk of her nightdress pooling around her, her golden hair unbound and glimmering in the dark. For once, her posture was not regal, not rehearsed — she simply sat as any woman might, barefoot, brushing petals with her fingertips.
Rhenessa lowered herself beside her, resting one arm on her bent knee, watching with quiet wonder. She had expected the queen of Solara to break tonight — but instead, here she was, glowing softly among flowers, fragile and strong all at once.
"I used to sneak here when I was a girl," Talia said, plucking a small wild blossom and twirling it between her fingers. "My mother would pretend not to notice. I think she wanted me to believe I had found a secret only I could keep."
Rhenessa smiled faintly. "And now you've shared it with me."
Golden eyes met violet, shy but steady. "I suppose I have."
Silence settled, gentle and companionable. Then Talia let out a sudden laugh, surprising herself. "I must look ridiculous. A queen sneaking about in her nightdress, sitting in weeds like a child."
"You look free," Rhenessa said simply.
The warmth in her tone made Talia laugh again, softer this time. She leaned back into the flowers, letting the petals cushion her as though she had set her crown aside. Rhenessa stretched out beside her, and soon their quiet talk gave way to stories and jokes — small, silly things that had nothing to do with politics or crowns.
And for the first time in years, Talia forgot about the weight of the throne, the sting of betrayal, the loneliness in her chest. She only knew the sound of her own laughter mingling with Rhenessa's, rising like music beneath the moon.
By the time silence returned, Talia's cheeks ached from smiling. She turned her head toward Rhenessa, her golden hair spilling across the grass. "Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For reminding me that I'm still alive."
Rhenessa's heart stirred, though she said nothing. She only watched her — radiant even in sorrow, luminous even in the dark — and thought to herself that this was a night neither of them would ever forget.