Third Person's POV
The morning sun spilled across Solara's palace, warm and bright as ever. But for Talia, everything felt different. She had not slept much, yet her heart felt lighter than it had in months. The weight that had chained her to Caelen's shadow had loosened, if only a little, and in its place lingered the memory of laughter in the garden — and Rhenessa's steady arms around her.
Her attendants noticed immediately. Where once her smiles had been strained, today they were real, soft, unforced. She hummed faintly as Stella braided her pink hair, her orange eyes catching the morning light like fire.
"My queen," Stella said carefully, as though testing fragile glass, "you seem… brighter."
Talia's lips curved. "Do I?"
"Yes," Stella said with quiet pride. "Like yourself again."
The words stilled her, but they did not wound. For the first time, she did feel like herself — not Caelen's wife, not the grieving queen who carried an empty cradle in her heart, but Talia do Sol, daughter of the sun.
⸻
Meanwhile, in her own wing of the palace, Rhenessa turned the memory of last night over and over in her mind. The warmth of Talia's body trembling against her, the sound of her laughter spilling freely beneath the moon — it unsettled her more than any council chamber or battlefield ever had.
She had come to Solara with politics in mind. Alliances. Strategies. But somewhere in the shadows of its golden halls, she had found something far more dangerous.
She touched the amethyst pendant at her throat, her violet eyes distant. Careful, she told herself. Shadows are not meant to fall in love with the sun.
And yet, she could not stop the smile that tugged at her lips when she remembered the queen's laughter.
By afternoon, the Golden Council convened to hear the Empress's proposal formally. The chamber was filled with nobles and ministers, their jeweled robes glinting in the sun. Talia sat poised at the head of the chamber, the scroll of terms resting lightly in her hands.
Rhenessa was absent — her proposal presented through Talia and Caelen — yet the weight of her presence hung in the air nonetheless.
"The Empress of Noctyra offers Solara a pact," Talia announced, her voice clear and steady. "Trade, mutual defense, and shared prosperity. She calls it an alliance of light and shadow."
A murmur swept the chamber. Some faces lit with excitement, others tightened with suspicion.
Caelen rose before the council could answer, his hand braced against the gilded table. "We must consider this carefully. An alliance with the shadows has always come with a price. I have a feeling—"
But before he could finish, Minister Althoren cut him off, his jeweled rings clinking against the table. "A feeling, Majesty? Forgive me, but Solara cannot afford to dismiss opportunity on superstition alone. Trade with Noctyra would revitalize our markets. Their soldiers, paired with ours, could secure our borders against Gravemere's stone legions."
Another noblewoman nodded eagerly. "The shadows once stood with us in the War of Dawns. The sun and shadow together defeated Stormra centuries ago. Why not again?"
Talia blinked, caught by the words. The War of Dawns? She had never heard of such a thing. Her parents had not spoken of it, and the chronicles she had read made no mention of shadowfire beside sunlight.
Around her, the council swelled with enthusiasm, voices rising with talk of old victories, forgotten pacts, and the wealth such an alliance could bring. One by one, they voiced approval until the council floor rang with agreement.
Caelen's protest withered beneath their fervor. He sank back into his chair, his jaw tight, his eyes shadowed.
Talia's gaze lingered on the ministers, on their unexpected knowledge, on the fragments of a history she had never been taught. Questions burned in her mind, too sharp to ignore.
That night, as the council chamber emptied and the palace quieted, she stood at her window, the sealed garden lingering in her memory. She turned to Stella at her side, her decision already made.
"Send word to the Empress," she said softly. "Tomorrow, I will meet her in the archives. I must know what truth lies hidden in our past."
….
The palace archives were hidden deep within the oldest wing of Solara, far below the glittering halls and sunlit courts. Few ventured there now — the shelves of ancient scrolls and tomes left mostly to dust and silence.
When Talia descended the stone steps, her lantern flickering golden against the shadows, she found Rhenessa already waiting at the foot of the stair.
The Empress stood cloaked in deep green, her hair unbound so it spilled across her shoulders, her violet eyes luminous in the lantern light. For a moment, Talia's heart stuttered at the sight — not the regal figure of court, but something quieter, closer.
"You came," Talia whispered, relief softening her voice.
"Did you think I would refuse?" Rhenessa's tone was low, tinged with humor, but her eyes searched Talia's face with something gentler. "You asked for my company. I would not deny you."
They walked together into the heart of the archives, the air cool and thick with the scent of parchment and dust. Tall shelves rose around them like silent sentinels, each heavy with the weight of forgotten history.
Talia trailed her fingers along a stack of scrolls as she spoke. "The council mentioned a war I had never heard of — the War of Dawns. They said the shadows once stood beside Solara. That our light and their flame fought as one. But my parents never spoke of it. Why would such a thing be hidden from me?"
Rhenessa studied her for a moment before answering. "Because history is power, and those who control it choose what is remembered — and what is buried."
Her words lingered in the silence. Talia glanced at her, golden eyes narrowing. "Then tonight, we unearth it."
Together, they pulled scrolls from their shelves, the quiet of the archives broken only by the soft crackle of parchment and the rustle of silk. Rhenessa's hand brushed Talia's once as they leaned over a table, unrolling a faded chart of Auremera, its borders drawn as they had been centuries before.
"There," Rhenessa said, pointing to a notation scrawled in the margin. "The Dawn Accord. A pact signed between Solara and Noctyra. Your sun, my shadow. United against Stormra when it sought to drown the continent in endless storms."
Talia traced the ink with trembling fingers. "Why was it erased? Why hide the truth of our alliance?"
"Perhaps because it is easier to divide kingdoms when they forget they were once kin." Rhenessa's voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "And perhaps because if you knew your crown once stood with mine… you might question who truly belongs at your side."
Talia's breath caught. She looked up, and in the hush of the archives, their gazes locked — sunlight and shadow bound by more than old ink and parchment.
For a moment, she forgot the throne, the court, even Caelen. There was only the flicker of the lantern, the quiet between them, and the dangerous, undeniable pull of the truth — both written and unspoken.
The lantern flame guttered low as they rolled the final scroll closed. The hour was late; the palace above them would be stirring soon with servants preparing for dawn.
Talia exhaled, steadying her hand against the old oak table. "There's more here — more than we can read in one night."
Rhenessa studied her, violet eyes unreadable. "Then we return tomorrow."
The words were simple, but they carried weight — a promise neither had voiced before.
Talia nodded, the faintest smile touching her lips. "Tomorrow."
Together, they climbed the stone steps, their footsteps echoing softly against the vaulted ceiling of the archives. At the top, the two women lingered in the hush of the corridor, caught in a moment neither wanted to end. Then, with a quiet bow of her head, Rhenessa turned, her cloak sweeping behind her as she disappeared into shadow.
Talia remained, her hand resting against the carved doorframe, her chest fluttering with something she could no longer dismiss.
⸻
That night, sleep came slowly to both of them.
In her chambers, Talia lay awake, staring at the canopy above her bed. She thought of the council's eagerness, of the history hidden from her all her life, and of the Empress who had uncovered it by her side. But more than that, she thought of laughter in the garden, of warmth in the archives, of violet eyes watching her with a steadiness that felt more like truth than anything Caelen had ever offered.
What am I becoming? she wondered. And why does it feel like freedom?
In the guest wing, Rhenessa sat by her window, the moonlight catching in her green hair as she let the night replay in her mind. She had not meant to care — not for the crown of Solara, and certainly not for the woman who wore it. But Talia's light had seeped past her armor, pulling at her with a force she could not control.
She touched the amethyst at her throat, closing her eyes. Careful, she warned herself again. Shadows that reach too close to the sun are always burned.
And yet… she smiled, despite herself.
For both queen and empress, the night had left its mark. And when they met again, it would not be only history they uncovered.