The kingdom of Elareth shimmered with life, music, and preparation.
The stone paths of the capital bustled with merchants, tailors, and decorators, each one caught in the excitement of the upcoming royal wedding. Prince Magnus, heir to the Elareth throne, was to wed the daughter of King Vernos of Dhalmar—an alliance that promised strength and prestige for both kingdoms.
Inside Queen Isadora's private chamber, the scent of rare lilies wafted through the air as she sat near the window, eyes scanning a long scroll of flower types and their symbols. She wanted nothing out of place—only perfection.
By her side, Princess Evelyn twirled before the mirror, smiling at her reflection as maids adjusted the golden laces on her dress.
"I'll be the most beautiful woman at the celebration," Evelyn said with certainty, smoothing her curls. "Apart from the bride, of course."
Queen Isadora smiled faintly, her mind already on the arrangements. "We'll have a thousand white roses. And lilac vines across the northern garden wall… make sure the head gardener knows this."
Evelyn nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
Far below, in the dim servants' quarters, Miri lay on the straw mat that had served as her bed since she was a child. Her fingers clenched the worn hem of her night dress as her mind whirled.
Aurora.
Is she alive?
Her eyes welled. Or did they kill her? Dump her in a ditch in Velmora like trash?
No word. No whisper. Not a single soul dared speak of her anymore.
The silence was worse than an answer.
Miri turned on her side and whispered into the dark, "You're strong, Aurora… Please be alive."
Back in Evelyn's room, the golden candlelight flickered against polished mirrors and velvet curtains. The princess sat up in bed, the luxurious sheets falling around her waist.
Her mind was nowhere near the celebration.
Her eyes narrowed.
Aurora's body hasn't been returned…
She ran a thumb across her bottom lip, deep in thought.
That means… she's still alive.
Alive—but how?
Her mind imagined the worst—or was it the best?—Aurora freezing, beaten, starving in some dark corner of Velmora.
She smirked at the thought… but it didn't last long.
What if… no, she shook her head. What if the King of Velmora—Aldric—
Her smile faded.
No. That can't happen. She stood up sharply, eyes fixed ahead. Her breath slowed.
"She's suffering," Evelyn said aloud into the silence. "Definitely suffering."
It was a lie meant to soothe herself.
Meanwhile, in the high chamber of King Real, the night had grown long.
Candlelight danced over the stone floor as Welfare Lord Calven stood before the king's heavy chair, bowing low.
"The grains in the storehouse have begun to dwindle, Your Majesty," he said soberly. "I've received word from the farmers—crops are failing. Dry soil. Weak sprouts. And some say the livestock are growing anxious, restless."
King Real sighed, rubbing his temples. "Have we sent aid to the outer villages?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. But that's not all…" Calven hesitated. "The main stream… the one that branches through all of Elareth… it's beginning to dry."
The king's head lifted sharply, his voice sharpened. "Dry? That stream has flowed for centuries."
"I know, Your Majesty. But our scouts confirmed it—low water levels, cracked banks. The villagers are beginning to whisper... some say it is an omen."
King Real rose slowly to his feet, eyes shadowed in the dim room.
"Then find a sorcerer. A seer. Anyone who can read the signs. I will not have my son's wedding stained with chaos."
Calven bowed and withdrew, leaving the king alone.
King Real stared out at the dark window, fists clenched behind his back.
Let nothing ruin this alliance. Nothing.
*****************
VELMORA KINGDOM
Since the day King Aldric walked out of her chamber after his strange, peaceful slumber, Aurora had not seen him again.
Not even in passing.
In the weeks that followed, her life in Velmora's palace found a rhythm—a quiet, gentle rhythm that barely stirred the still waters of her soul. She mostly remained in her chamber, or in the privacy of her royal garden. The bloom of red lilies and white violets kept her company more than any human soul, and her laughter, when it came, was only shared with her loyal maids.
She ate in her room, studied Velmora's laws and traditions at the window, and stared out at the wide, distant land beyond the palace walls—searching for nothing in particular, but always hoping for something.
The rare times she stepped out into the larger palace—whether for a short walk or to visit the royal library—eyes followed her. Servants bowed deeper than before. The guards stood taller when she passed. She wasn't sure what had changed outwardly… but inwardly, she knew.
They knew.
The king had spent a whole day in her chamber, sleeping under her roof, on her bed.
It had done something. Word had spread, and with it came a strange, weighty reverence.
One afternoon, as she returned from the library, she encountered three high lords in flowing black-and-silver robes on their way to the council room. They halted and bowed deeply before her.
Aurora had lowered her eyes and walked quickly away.
That evening, she chose not to leave her chamber at all.
Most of all, she stayed hidden to avoid the other two queens. Selene and Virelda.
The silence between them had not been comforting—it had been heavy, expectant. She knew something would eventually happen.
And it did.
It began as she walked back from her garden, her white cloak catching petals as she passed beneath the ivy archway.
She had turned the corner into the eastern hall—just a few steps from her chamber—when she halted.
There, walking toward her in a wave of silk, was Queen Selene, her long lavender gown sweeping across the floor like spilled perfume. Her eyes gleamed with cruel anticipation. Servants trailed behind her like shadows.
Aurora's steps froze.
Selene stopped a few feet in front of her, arms elegantly crossed, and gave a sweet, venom-laced smile.
"Going somewhere, Queen Aurora?" Her voice coiled with mocking sweetness.
Aurora bowed her head slightly. "To my chamber, Your Majesty."
Selene tilted her head, "Have tea with me."
Aurora hesitated. She didn't want this. Not now, not ever. Her instincts screamed against it.
But she could not say no. Not without causing a scene.
She nodded slowly. "Of course."
Selene led the way to the eastern terrace. They sat beneath a pale sky, the marble table set with gold-rimmed teacups and sugared grapes. Their servants stood at a respectful distance behind them.
Aurora didn't touch her tea. Her eyes stared down at the swirling surface. Her hands were tense in her lap.
Selene watched her quietly for a moment, then said, "Lift your head."
Aurora obeyed, slowly. But her gaze fell just beneath Selene's eyes, never directly into them. Something about her made her body instinctively shrink—like Evelyn.
Selene noticed.
"Tch." She chuckled. "Look at me, not the floor. You're not in Elareth anymore."
Aurora lifted her chin higher. Her eyes were hesitant, but present.
Then Selene leaned forward, her smile curving, and the poison poured out.
"You mustn't forget your place, little dove," she said sweetly. "All this—" she gestured vaguely, "—isn't truly yours. A few nights with the king don't change what you are."
Aurora's throat tightened.
Selene's voice dropped lower. "You're a slave, Aurora. A barter. A toy. Nothing more."
She sat back, sipping her tea.
"No matter how many gold-threaded robes you wear… or how soft your bed is now… it doesn't change where you come from." Her eyes gleamed. "From a whore."
Aurora froze.
Selene smirked. "Oh yes, I heard the stories. The slave girl from Elareth who spread her legs for a king. Hoping for a crown."
Aurora's fingers clenched against her thighs.
"And what did she get instead?" Selene continued. "A daughter she abandoned to scrubbing floors and sleeping on straw."
Aurora's gaze snapped up—eyes wide, red-rimmed, trembling.
Selene saw the pain. And relished it.
"She must have seduced your father," Selene continued, swirling her tea. "Used what she had between her thighs. You probably inherited that gift." She laughed softly. "That's how you lured His Majesty into your bed, isn't it?"
Aurora's breathing grew heavy.
Selene leaned in, voice low and cruel.
"Your mother was a whore, and she died like one—alone. Worthless. Rotting in some nameless pit of shame. And wait…" She smirked. "Wasn't she accused of stealing?" She laughed sarcastically. "As expected of a servant, your mother isn't just a whore, but also a thief. Did you inherit that too?"
Tears welled in Aurora's eyes. Her hands trembled violently. Her nails cut into her palm. But she didn't speak. She didn't move. She just stared.
Still. Broken.
And that, to Selene, was victory.
Then she stood, smoothed her gown, and reached for the teacup in front of her.
With one slow, graceful motion, she lifted it—and emptied it on Aurora's head.
The warm liquid spilled down her white hair and over her face. She gasped softly, but said nothing.
Selene turned, a smirk on her lips. "You wear shame well."
And she walked away.
Aurora sat in stunned silence. Her face wet, her heart crumbling. Her mother's name echoing in the cruelest tone she'd ever heard.
She could barely breathe.
The moment Selene and her servants disappeared from view, her own maids rushed toward her from their hidden corner.
"Your Majesty!"
They hurried around her, gently dabbing her wet face, wiping down her robe, speaking all at once.
"She had no right!"
"You should report her!"
"You should have poured tea back on her face!"
"You should have slapped her!"
"She's vile—vile!"
Aurora said nothing. Her body shook, but not from the tea.
She let them lead her back to her chamber. She let them clean her up, comb her hair again, and change her robe.
But she didn't speak. Didn't blink.
Selene's words rang in her ears like war drums.
Your mother was a whore.
A thief.
Aurora sat by her window long after they were done. Her servants had withdrawn, leaving her alone. The stars came out. A breeze passed through. She closed her eyes, and let the tears fall silently.
She had endured pain before—but never like this.
Not in Elareth. Not even on the snow-covered plains outside Velmora.
This pain was different. This pain had a face. A voice.
And now… it had awakened something in her chest.
Not rage. But resolve.
-
Whispers in Velmora Palace travelled faster than fire in dry fields.
No sooner had Queen Selene stepped away from the terrace with a satisfied smirk, and Aurora been led away by her maids dripping in tea, than the walls themselves seemed to come alive.
The guards outside the eastern corridor glanced at one another.
A handmaid eavesdropping near the columns scurried to her chamber with widened eyes and a wicked grin.
By midday, the tale had reached half the palace—and by evening, it was in the chambers of the other queen.
In Queen Virelda's quarter, silence sat in the air like a waiting storm. The queen stood by the window, her silver and indigo robe flowing around her like mist. She looked regal. Cold. Composed.
One of her maids—Ilyra, the only one bold enough to speak without being asked—stepped forward and gave a short bow.
"Your Majesty... have you heard what happened between Queen Selene and Queen Aurora?"
Virelda didn't look away from the window. But her lips curled into a faint smile.
"I have."
Ilyra hesitated. "Do you wish to… speak with Queen Aurora?"
This time, Virelda turned. Her eyes, usually unreadable, held a flicker of something sharp.
"Speak with her?" she repeated.
Then she shook her head, stepping away from the window and toward the door.
"Aurora doesn't deserve a confrontation."
She left the chamber with her train trailing behind her like a shadow. Ilyra stared after her, confusion in her brow. But she said nothing more.
The whispers reached Queen Ava's ears too.
But the king's mother did not summon anyone. She did not send for guards or handmaidens. She did not call Aurora to her chamber or demand punishment for Selene.
Instead, she sat in her private solar, sipping a cup of steamed jasmine milk as her favorite maid relayed the tale in hushed, urgent tones.
When the maid finished, Ava smiled faintly.
"Rifts between queens are as old as crowns," she said softly, not looking up from her cup. "If Aurora wishes to survive here, she must learn to stand on her own—and defend herself."
The maid hesitated. "Will Your Highness not interfere?"
Ava looked up, eyes calm, and answered, "No."
And that was final.
But the quiet was deceptive. For in the heart of the palace, the king too had heard.
A knock came upon the door of King Aldric's private chamber, firm but respectful.
Behind it, a familiar voice.
"Your Majesty… it's Virelda."
Aldric, seated at the edge of his chair by the hearth, his long robe draped over his knee, didn't flinch.
"Enter."
The door opened with a soft click, and Virelda walked in gracefully. She bowed deeply, her hands folded at her waist.
Aldric glanced up briefly. "Sit."
She obeyed.
They sat in a silence that was both comfortable and uncomfortable—like two rulers of nations at an unspoken truce.
"Why are you here?" Aldric asked, not looking at her.
Virelda hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure herself—not until she heard herself speak.
"Did Your Majesty hear what happened to Queen Aurora today?"
Aldric's gaze didn't shift. His jaw tightened. But he gave no answer.
For a moment, Virelda thought she had made a grave error. Her heartbeat quickened. Had she overstepped?
Aldric finally spoke, voice low.
"When did the queens of Velmora become gossipmongers?"
Virelda stood up immediately, head bowed low.
"My apologies, Your Majesty," she said quickly, backing toward the door. "I didn't mean—"
"If that's all," Aldric interrupted, "you may leave."
Virelda's hand reached for the door.
And then—
"Whatever happened to Aurora," Aldric said slowly, almost absently, "is none of my concern."
Her hand froze. Then lowered. And slowly, a smile crept across her lips.
It was the answer she had come for. The answer she hadn't dared hope for but deeply longed to hear.
He didn't care. He still didn't care. Not about Aurora.
That night in her room, she had told herself it meant nothing. That the king had simply fallen asleep. That it was a fluke. That he had no feelings for the white-haired girl.
And now—he had confirmed it.
Virelda turned, bowed deeply once more, and exited the room.
Her smile widened as she walked back to her chamber, heels clicking sharply on the stone.
Behind her, the door to the king's chamber shut with a cold echo.
Back in her chamber, Virelda poured herself a glass of crimson wine. She sat back, eyes thoughtful, gaze distant.
Let Selene waste her energy with tea games and cruelty.
Let Aurora suffer and grow silent.
She had heard it from Aldric's own lips.
Aurora meant nothing.
And in the quiet, Virelda smiled wider.