Third Person's POV
The Forgotten Halls lay hushed beneath the palace, corridors of stone and shadow that time itself seemed to have abandoned. Dust drifted in the still air, and the faint scent of aged wood and cold marble lingered where sunlight had not touched in years.
Rhenessa stood waiting in the half-dark, her emerald cloak blending into the shadows, violet eyes glimmering faintly as the torchlight caught them. Her heartbeat was steady — until she heard the hurried whisper of soft steps against the floor.
Then she saw her.
Queen Talia, giddily scurrying down the hall like a girl sneaking from her chambers, her laughter stifled behind her hand. She wore no crown, no jewels, no layers of ceremonial silk. Only a simple orange nightdress of fine silk that clung to her figure, glowing like liquid fire in the torchlight. Her long pink hair flowed freely behind her, unbound and unbraided, tumbling down her back in soft waves.
For Rhenessa, it was a sight she knew she would never forget — not in this life, nor the next.
The Empress's breath caught. She had seen Talia radiant in her throne room, dignified in golden gowns, luminous in her magic. But this — this was different. This was Talia as she was, bare of artifice, stripped of duty, utterly human and achingly beautiful.
When Talia reached her, her cheeks flushed with the thrill of secrecy, she pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself, catching her breath. Then she looked up, golden eyes glimmering with mischief and warmth.
"I feel like a child again," she whispered, a laugh escaping her lips. "Sneaking through my own palace as though I don't belong in it."
Rhenessa could not move at first, stunned into stillness. She had faced armies, commanded shadows, held empires in her hand — but nothing had ever undone her quite like this sight.
"You belong everywhere in it," Rhenessa said softly, her voice unsteady in a way it had never been before.
Talia smiled, her bare beauty glowing brighter than jewels could ever hope to. "Not everywhere. Not with everyone."
Her gaze lingered on the Empress then — longer, deeper — and in the silence of the Forgotten Halls, the unspoken truth between them burned like a secret flame.
Talia's laughter echoed softly against the stone as they moved deeper into the corridors. Cobwebs draped across carved arches, and dust swirled in their wake with every step, as if the palace itself had forgotten how to breathe in these abandoned places.
"Here," Talia said, tugging Rhenessa's hand suddenly, her golden eyes glimmering with mischief. "Down this way. No one's walked this hall in years."
Rhenessa allowed herself to be pulled along, her lips curved in rare amusement. "Do queens of Solara often sneak through their own palaces like mischievous children?"
"Only the ones with too much on their shoulders," Talia replied, her tone lighter than her words. "I used to play here when I was a girl. I pretended these halls were a labyrinth — secret tunnels where treasure and danger waited around every corner."
"And now?" Rhenessa asked, watching her with quiet curiosity.
Talia smiled faintly. "Now I pretend I can still be that girl."
For a while, they walked in silence — their footsteps muffled, their hands brushing every so often in the dark. It felt oddly like stepping out of time, as though the palace and its heavy crown-weights no longer existed.
"Tell me something of yourself," Talia said suddenly, glancing up at her. "Not the Empress of Noctyra, not the ruler who commands armies. You."
Rhenessa hesitated, her violet eyes shadowed. She had spent years hiding her heart behind titles and steel. Yet here, in the half-light with this woman beside her, she found herself speaking words she hadn't said aloud in years.
"I was not meant to rule," she admitted quietly. "My sister was the heir. She had the patience, the grace. I had only defiance. When she died…" Her voice caught, just slightly. "I took her place. And I have spent every year since pretending it was always meant to be."
Talia's heart tightened at the rawness in her tone. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing Rhenessa's wrist. "That cannot have been easy."
Rhenessa looked down at her hand, then back at her face. "It was not. But perhaps it made me strong. Or perhaps it only made me lonely."
Their eyes lingered on each other — sunlight and shadow meeting in the quiet places of the world.
Then Talia tugged her forward again, as though sensing the moment might break if left too long. They turned another corner, and suddenly, the dust gave way to something different: a great set of iron doors, their surfaces traced with vines of gold long tarnished.
Talia stopped, her voice softer now. "The Sealed Garden."
Rhenessa tilted her head. "What lies beyond?"
"My mother's sanctuary," Talia whispered. Her hand rested against the cool iron, her expression touched with reverence. "She came here to think, to dream. After her death, the doors were sealed. No one has stepped inside since."
For a moment, the two women stood side by side before the ancient gate — two rulers, two daughters carrying grief in different shapes.
"It seems your adventures always end in sacred places," Rhenessa murmured.
Talia smiled faintly, turning her golden eyes toward her. "Perhaps because that is where the heart leads, when you stop pretending to carry the world alone."
Rhenessa felt the words sink into her, deeper than she cared to admit. In that hushed corridor, before the sealed memory of a queen long gone, something unspoken passed between them — fragile as breath, strong as truth.
Their first adventure had ended. But another had only just begun.
….
The throne room glittered with midday sunlight streaming through gilded windows, casting golden patterns across the marble floor. Courtiers and councilors stood in their places, awaiting the audience called by the visiting empress of Noctyra.
Talia sat at Caelen's side, her golden gown catching the light, her posture serene but her pulse quick with curiosity. She had not expected Rhenessa to request a formal audience so soon — not after the stolen nights in the Forgotten Halls, the whispered confessions, the laughter that still lingered in her thoughts like music.
When the herald announced her, the doors opened and Rhenessa strode into the chamber with all the command of her title. She wore deep green trimmed with black and silver, the colors of Noctyra's volcanic banners, but her eyes — violet and sharp — softened the instant they found Talia.
It was fleeting. Subtle. But Talia felt it like a hand pressed to her heart.
"Empress Rhenessa Daelora of Noctyra," the herald declared. "Here to petition Her Majesty Queen Talia do Sol and His Majesty King Caelen of Solara."
Rhenessa bowed her head respectfully before lifting her gaze, her voice carrying through the hall with smooth authority. "I come not to petition, but to propose. Noctyra seeks an alliance with Solara — a pact of trade, mutual defense, and friendship between our realms."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
Caelen's brows arched. "A bold request," he said evenly. "Why now?"
Rhenessa smiled faintly, though her eyes lingered on Talia as she replied. "Because the world grows restless. Gravemere rattles its chains. Stormraiders gather at sea. The strength of sun and shadow together would steady the balance."
Talia inclined her head, her tone diplomatic. "An alliance would be no small thing. It could reshape Auremera."
"Indeed," Rhenessa said softly. And though she addressed the court, her gaze locked briefly with Talia's, her words carrying more weight than politics alone. "But sometimes it takes courage to step into the unknown. To embrace the light even when shadows follow close."
Talia's breath caught at the veiled intimacy in her tone. She lowered her lashes quickly, hiding the smile that tugged at her lips.
Caelen noticed.
His jaw tightened as his eyes flicked between them — his queen, glowing with that soft, unguarded sweetness he had not seen in years, and the foreign empress whose every word seemed crafted to draw it from her. He caught the faint curve of Rhenessa's lips when Talia laughed softly at a comment, the way her eyes lingered just a heartbeat too long.
It was blatant. Dangerous.
And it made Talia radiant in a way that set Caelen's blood to a slow, simmering boil.
He forced a polite smile, though his voice carried a sharp edge as he replied, "Perhaps we should discuss the terms of this… alliance in greater detail. Privately."
Rhenessa's eyes never left Talia's. "Of course. But I have no secrets where light is concerned."
The words sent another ripple through the court. To some, they were mere rhetoric. But to Caelen, they were a challenge. To Talia, they felt like a vow.