🐻☕🧸📋🧋🍪

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ 

*****

ᴀ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴏᴘᴇɴꜱ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜱʏᴍᴘᴀᴛʜʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ'ꜱ ᴍɪꜱᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ꜱʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ɪɴᴇxᴘʟɪᴄᴀʙʟʏ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱᴘᴏʀᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛꜱ ᴘᴀɢᴇꜱ, ꜰᴜᴇʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ꜱɪɴɢᴜʟᴀʀ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ: ᴛᴏ ʀᴇꜱʜᴀᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ.  ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ, ᴀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ'ꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ ɢʀᴀɴᴛꜱ ʜᴇʀ ᴡɪꜱʜ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ-ᴇᴅɢᴇᴅ ꜱᴡᴏʀᴅ. ꜱʜᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ'ꜱ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴜʙɪɴᴇꜱ, ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛʟʏ ɴᴜʀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴡɪɴɴɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.  ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴡᴀʏꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ꜱᴛᴀʙꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ, ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴇꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʟᴀᴄᴇ. ʏᴇᴛ, ʜᴇʀ ꜰʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇꜱ ᴀ ʜᴀʀʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇQᴜᴇɴᴄᴇ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ.  ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ᴘᴇɴɴɪʟᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴀᴘᴘʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀꜱʜɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʟɪꜰᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴇʟᴀɴᴄʜᴏʟɪᴄ ᴛᴜʀɴ, ʟᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴜɴᴛɪᴍᴇʟʏ ᴇɴᴅ.

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

𝐼𝑟𝑖𝑠 𝐶𝑟𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙

𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑅𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙𝑒

𝐼𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝐼𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑔𝑜

𝑀𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑠

𝐶𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛!

𝑇𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝒉 𝑝𝒉𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠, 𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑒,  𝑎 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑. 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑.

𝑇𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑚 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑢𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦, 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝐼𝑓 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝑇𝒉𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝒉𝑜𝑡. 𝑀𝑢𝑐𝒉 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ❤️

𝐸𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝒉 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠-𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑠, 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑜𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝒉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒.

*****

🐻☕🧸📋🧋🍪

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ 

*****

The wind whispered through the towering trees, their branches swaying in a nocturnal dance within the royal palace grounds. The moon, a silent observer, cast its ethereal glow upon the sleeping world, leaving only shadows to traverse the quiet expanse.

In this serene stillness, a lone swing creaked gently in the breeze. The garden, nestled behind the regal structure, lay shrouded in darkness, devoid of any signs of life. The flickering lanterns had long been extinguished, and the grandeur of the palace appeared to slumber beneath the night's embrace.

Breaking the silence, a small figure emerged from the shadows. A little girl, no older than seven, took delicate steps, her tiny hand holding onto her mother's. They moved with a quiet purpose, venturing toward the secluded garden bathed in moonlight.

The little girl's eyes sparkled with a mixture of wonder and anticipation once they reached the forgotten swing and as she stepped forward, a shiver of uncertainty gripped the atmosphere. The mother, caught in the delicate tension between skepticism and maternal concern, took a step back, her expression etched with fear.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a tremor that mirrored the rustling leaves around them. The night held its breath, waiting for the affirmation or denial that would shape the course of their nocturnal exploration.

The little girl, undeterred by the solemnity of the moment, nodded with determination. Just as the little girl began to cross the threshold, her mother's hand gently arrested her progress. The child turned back, eyes filled with confusion, unaware of the invisible currents of fear and emotion swirling within her mother.

A tear, unbidden, escaped the mother's eye, glistening like a dewdrop in the moonlight. She hastily brushed it away, a silent plea to conceal the vulnerability that had momentarily surfaced. With a quick motion, she drew her daughter closer, enveloping her in the safety of her arms.

"Mom, I really lost there! Without it, they won't let me take the test!" The urgency in the little girl's voice echoed in the quiet night, a plea tinged with worry and desperation. Her mother, sensing the gravity of the situation, shook her head with a stern seriousness.

"You're forbidden from approaching that swing again! Missing a test isn't the end of the world. Come with me now!" The mother's words cut through the night air, decisive and firm. She wasted no time, her protective instincts taking charge as she briskly moved to pull her daughter away.

Unbeknownst to them, the king, hidden in the shadows of his bedroom, observed their departure from the window with a watchful gaze. As the duo disappeared from view, the king's attention shifted back to the swing as its enchanting dance abruptly ceased with the wind.

Suddenly, the swing began its spectral dance anew, defying the constraints of the physical world with an eerie persistence. The rusty chains whispered tales of forgotten laughter with a grating sound that echoed through the silent night.

A puzzled furrow creased his regal brow, and in a deliberate motion, he reached for the heavy curtain and pulled it closed angrily.

_____

The little girl asked, her innocent voice cutting through the air. "Mom, why does everyone despise the swing? Is there a ghost or something haunting it?"

The mother, caught off guard by the unexpected question, halted in her tracks. She turned to look at her daughter, her expression a complex blend of surprise and unease. The little girl, oblivious to the weight of her inquiry, gazed at her mother with wide, curious eyes, seeking an explanation to unravel the mystery that shrouded the swing.

"Mom?"

A pregnant pause hung in the air, laden with unspoken secrets and the weight of shared apprehension. The mother, grappling with how to respond, finally spoke, her voice carrying a subtle tremor that betrayed a deeper unease. "Don't go near that swing ever again," the mother commanded, her tone carrying an unspoken urgency that added weight to her words. The little girl, sensing the gravity of her mother's warning, nodded slowly in understanding.

As if compelled by an unspoken intuition, the mother knelt down, her eyes locking onto her daughter's. There, in the moonlit courtyard, the air charged with an unspoken truth, the mother sought a promise. The little girl, captivated by the seriousness in her mother's gaze, reciprocated with a hesitant nod.

A small, understanding smile played on the mother's lips as she enveloped her daughter in a reassuring hug. The weight of unspoken secrets lingered in the air, and the mother, in a moment of both vulnerability and protectiveness, whispered, "Yes, it is haunted."

The daughter pulled away with a shock, her eyes wide with a blend of surprise and curiosity. The mother, facing emotional turmoil within, shut her eyes briefly before mustering the courage to speak.

"I served as her maid; she, my master."

"Did she reside in the palace at that time?" the little girl asked, her innocence bringing forth a simple, yet piercing, question.

The mother nodded solemnly. "Yes, she was indulged by her parents as the only child. Her desire was to marry the king and become a concubine. I was bestowed upon her by the king to serve her faithfully."

"But how did she die?" the little girl asked, her voice carrying a genuine curiosity.

The mother, her eyes clouded with the weight of memories, responded somberly. "In the presence of the queen, the entire city witnessed her execution." As she spoke, she absentmindedly wiped away tears that had escaped, a testament to the emotional toll of recounting the past.

Noticing the tears in her mother's eyes, the girl, her innocence casting a light on the complex emotions in the air, asked a question that cut to the heart of the matter. "Was she a good person?"

The mother caught between the conflicting shades of loyalty and regret, took a moment to gather her thoughts. She shook her head, a conflicted expression lingering on her face. "I-i don't know... She wasn't virtuous, but I hesitate to label her as outright evil."

"It's because she treated you well?" the little girl inquired.

The mother's gaze turned solemn. "Not even once," she said gratingly.

"Why do you think she's not evil if she was executed, even though she never treated you well?" the little girl asked, her innocence seeking understanding.

"Because she was a fool... just a fool in love. Everything she did was driven by love." the mother admitted, her words carrying a mixture of bitterness and a hint of reluctant empathy.

*****

...

...

𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 ♡

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ

🐻☕🧸📋🧋🍪

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ 

*****

The melodic tunes of birds wake me from my slumber, their cheerful chirping already infusing my day with a sense of serenity. With a stretch, I roll out of bed and open my door, the cool morning air embracing me as I make my way to the kitchen, still dressed in my nightgown.

A tantalizing aroma wafts towards me, making my stomach churn with hunger. My feet quicken their pace, eager to reach the source of this delightful smell. Upon entering the kitchen, I find maids diligently setting the table under my mother's watchful eye. In one of the maid's hands, a plate of pasta looks incredibly tempting, its sight alone twisting my stomach into knots of desire and agony.

Unable to resist, I grab a fork and sample a mouthful of the scrumptious dish from the maid's hand. The flavors explode in my mouth, momentarily satisfying my cravings. However, my impromptu indulgence does not go unnoticed.

In swift discipline, my mother's hand makes contact with the back of my head, eliciting a small whine from me. I mumble an apologetic "Sorry, sorry, just one bite" as I continue to chew. Ignoring her disapproving gaze, I steal another bite before hastily retreating from the kitchen, my mother's looming wrath prompting my hasty escape.

Chewing slowly, I make my way to the living room where I find my father seated on the couch, engrossed in his newspaper, oblivious to my presence. Silently, I slip behind him, my arms encircling his frame in a warm, affectionate embrace. My cheek finds rest against his chubby one, radiating a comforting warmth.

His cheeks lift into a wide smile and his hands tenderly grasp my arms as he dismisses the newspaper onto his lap. In my groggy, raspy morning voice, I greet him, "Good morning, Father." His smile widens, and he inquires, "Good morning, my soul. Have you had breakfast yet?" I shake my head, replying, "Nope, I haven't even brushed my teeth yet. I nearly faced my demise in the kitchen because I had a spoonful—" I pause, correcting myself, "No, maybe two, without brushing my teeth, and mom got furious!" His laughter rumbles out, and he remarks, "Well, today is my lucky day then. Let's eat together before I have to leave. Now, hurry and brush your teeth; I'll be waiting for you at the dining table." I respond with a beaming smile, nodding in agreement. I press a quick kiss to his cheek before skipping away, my heart filled with joy, evident in my little happy jumps.

After freshening up, I headed to the dining room and took a seat next to my father. His warm gaze met mine, and his eyes blossomed into a smile as I sat down.

Putting down the spoon after a satisfying bite, I looked at my father with a sparkle in my eyes. "Father, could you possibly spare a day? It's been ages since we've spent quality time together and I promise to brew you an exquisite cup of tea, a gesture of gratitude for your time."

Father, surprised by my rare request to play together, contemplated for a moment before a wide smile formed on his face.

"Is that beaming smile an affirmative response, then?" I asked, my own grin revealing my happiness.

He nodded, still smiling, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of joy. However, his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "Why the sudden urge? Are you contemplating another trip with your friends?"

Grinning mischievously, I replied, "How would you know?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, only then you would approach me-" he paused, glancing at my mother before leaning in close and whispering into my ear, "So you need my help?"

My cheeks lifted into a wide smile, and I whispered back, "Yes, please. Mama will never agree."

He smiled, understanding the predicament, but our conspiratorial exchange was interrupted by my mother, who cleared her throat and put down her spoon. "I know what you guys are planning. Don't take me for a fool."

Caught off guard, my father and I exchanged nervous glances before bursting into laughter, confusing my mother further.

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sitting in the garden, savoring the warmth of the tea and the gentle embrace of the fresh air, I felt a sense of tranquility wash over me. My hair danced in the wind, a silent partner to the soothing rhythm of nature, as my father took a leisurely sip from his cup.

"Iris," he called my name, and I turned my gaze to him.

"Yes, father?" I responded, my curiosity piqued by the serious tone in his voice.

"The King of Obsidian Crown has once again sought your hand in marriage," he announced, his words dropping like unexpected stones into the peaceful pond of the moment.

"But — but haven't we declined before? Why would they propose marriage again?" I asked, my frustration bubbling to the surface, almost escaping in a shout.

My father's response was a heavy sigh, and a slow shake of his head conveyed the gravity of my unspoken question. Nervousness clawed at me, and I glanced around, desperately seeking some mental support.

"He's dead serious this time. King Lucious has insisted on our surrender, threatening to march with his army and seize our kingdom," My father disclosed, the weight of his revelation hanging heavy in the air.

The words hit me like a thunderbolt, turning my world upside down. Fear widened my eyes, and I shook my head in disbelief. A tear betrayed my growing sense of dread. Father rose from his seat, hurriedly approaching to pull me into an embrace. His hand patted my head in a futile attempt to provide comfort.

"Fear not, I would never trade you for our kingdom. If he covets my throne, he must contend for it and prove himself worthy. A benevolent ruler is what matters, regardless of who wears the crown, as long as they rule with kindness," he assured, his voice resonating with a blend of determination and reassurance.

"But what if he enslaves our people?" I questioned, distancing myself from his embrace.

"I am prepared to step down the throne for your sake. Rest assured, I have encountered the King before. Though he harbors a thirst for power, he clings to certain morals," he explained, endeavoring to pacify my anxieties. I nodded, wiping away my tears.

"Now, don't shed tears. I didn't share all this to frighten you. My intention is to ensure your safety in the perilous world outside. Stay close to your friends once you depart the palace. Regardless of the circumstances, remember that I would never trade you away," he added, his words carrying a bittersweet promise.

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟

A young girl, appearing to be around 19, ran through the bustling streets, clutching a letter and a wrapped gift in her hands. Her long, blond hair swayed in rhythm with her hurried steps, and her golden eyes sparkled with a vivacious energy. The plumpness of her lips resembled ripe cherries, adding a touch of allure to her youthful face.

With a breathless rush, she arrived at the entrance of a grand hotel. Her presence didn't go unnoticed as she waved enthusiastically at the receptionist, who reciprocated with a bright smile.

"Rosetta, is the letter finally here?!" The receptionist's voice echoed through the air, loud enough for the young girl to hear.

"YES!!" Rosetta's response carried excitement as she rushed upstairs, her hurried footsteps signaling anticipation. Bursting into the room, she swung the door open loudly. Panting heavily, she wiped away the sweat with a triumphant smile as she came to a stop.

"Iris!!"

Iris, seated on a chair near the window, engrossed in a book, looked up at Rosetta in confusion. The sudden entrance had disrupted the tranquil ambiance of the room, and Iris, with furrowed brows, sought an explanation for the commotion.

As the heavy and loud wind rushed inside the room through the open window, Rosetta's voice cut through the gusts. "The letter!"

But Iris, caught off guard by the sudden intrusion of the wind, strained to hear. "Huh?"

Rosetta, ever patient, waited for the wind to subside. In the temporary lull, Iris's long, black hair—silky and soft—swayed like dark cascading waves. Once the wind ceased its assault, Rosetta couldn't contain her excitement, punctuating her words with little jumps. "I got the letter!!"

Iris's heart instantly filled with warmth, a soft glow emanating from her. Her grey eyes glistened with a touch of emotion as her pink, small, pouty lips curled up at the corners into a genuine smile.

Iris stood up from the chair, her movements guided by a mix of disbelief and curiosity. She approached Rosetta, who held the letter and reached out to take it. Rosetta, understanding the gravity of the moment, patted Iris's shoulder with a comforting reassurance.

"I can't believe it... Is this for real?" Iris exclaimed, her voice carrying a tremor of emotions. Overwhelmed, she hugged Rosetta, seeking solace in the warmth of the embrace, her face nestled into Rosetta's neck.

Rosetta, reciprocating the hug, nodded her head in affirmation. "Read it."

Iris, wiping away her tears, gave a quick nod. She composed herself and sat down on the bed, the letter cradled in her hands. Rosetta joined her, sitting close, their shared anticipation filling the room with palpable excitement. With trembling hands, Iris opened the letter, revealing the unknown words awaiting them in the inked lines.

𝑀𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔𝒉𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦,

𝐼 𝒉𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙. 𝑊𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝒉𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡𝒉 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝒉𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑢𝑔𝒉𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒉𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒉𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑒𝑐𝒉𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑.

𝑊𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒉𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡𝒉𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝒉𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑟𝑎𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒. 𝐼𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑢𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝒉𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟. 𝐻𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑐𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑠 𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡.

𝐼 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡 𝑢𝑠, 𝑛𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝒉𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑢𝑡𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑑. 𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑎, 𝑠𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝒉𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝒉 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑐𝒉𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒.

𝑇𝒉𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝒉𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒. 𝐻𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝐼 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑚. 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑢𝑠, 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝒉𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦.

𝑊𝒉𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝐼 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝒉𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝑊𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝒉𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝒉𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝒉𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠𝒉 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒉𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑢𝑡𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦.

𝐼𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑢𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔𝒉𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑢𝑔𝒉𝑡𝑠.

𝑊𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒,

- 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐹𝑎𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑟.

Tears rolled down Iris's cheeks as she tenderly clutched the heartfelt letter. Blinking back the emotion, she took a deep breath and, with trembling hands, turned to another page.

𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝐼𝑟𝑖𝑠,

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝒉𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝒉𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝒉𝑖𝑛𝑑. 𝑊𝒉𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉 𝑦𝑜𝑢? 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝒉𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢? 𝑊𝒉𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛, 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝒉𝑜𝑚𝑒.

𝐵𝑢𝑡, 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑦. 𝑇𝒉𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡𝒉 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢—𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑡𝒉 𝑖𝑡. 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝒉𝑢𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦.

𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒—𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝒉𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝒉𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒, 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑡. 𝑂𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝑙𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝒉𝑖𝑚. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝒉𝑖𝑚. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝒉𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦, 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒉𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑒𝑠.

𝑇𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒.

- 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑀𝑜𝑡𝒉𝑒𝑟.

Iris sobbed more uncontrollably, her body trembling with the weight of emotions. Rosetta, witnessing her friend in such distress, felt a pang of sadness. When Iris finally looked at her, her eyes red and swollen, she asked with a quiver in her voice, "Is there no letter from my brother?"

"No, but this gift is from him," Rosetta said with a tinge of sadness.

With a happy smile, Iris eagerly unwrapped the present, revealing a book nestled within. "It's a book."

"He knows you like writing stories, so he got it for you," Rosetta explained.

Iris beamed, holding the book close to her chest and nodding. "He knows me the best."

Rosetta, conflicted by the information she held, shook her head. "I don't know whether I should tell you."

Confusion clouded Iris's tear-streaked face as she wiped away her tears. "What is it, Rose?"

Rosetta, grappling with her own emotions, suddenly began weeping, adding another layer of bewilderment to Iris's already tumultuous state. Iris, now even more concerned, asked, "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry I can't tell you. Please don't hate your father!" Rosetta shook her head, a veil of sorrow casting a shadow over her features, as she stood up to leave the room. However, Iris, gripped by worry and an urgent need for answers, couldn't let her retreat into the silence.

"What do you mean?" Iris demanded, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and seriousness. She reached out and grabbed Rosetta's hand.

Rosetta, avoiding direct eye contact, seemed torn between the weight of her truth and the desire to shield her friend from the harsh realities. "ROSETTA! SPEAK! DON'T HIDE ANYTHING FROM ME!!" Iris shouted, her voice rising with a blend of frustration and fear. She shook her, a desperate attempt to break through the walls of secrecy.

Rosetta, compelled by the urgency in Iris's plea, shook her head once more and finally, after a moment of hesitant silence, spoke with a heavy heart, "It's been a month."

"For what?! Speak, Rosetta!!" Iris demanded, her impatience tinged with a growing sense of dread.

Unable to hold back the painful truth any longer, Rosetta burst into tears. "Your brother is no more."

Iris, still reeling from the shock of the news, loosened her grip on Rosetta. Her mind went completely blank, a deafening ringing sound echoing in her ears. Her knees gave way beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor, looking lost and as if a part of her had died inside.

"I'm so sorry for telling you this now!!" Rosetta, overcome with guilt and grief, joined Iris on the floor, sinking to her knees. Tears streamed down her face as she reached out to comfort the friend who now bore the weight of a devastating loss. In that somber moment, the two women shared a painful connection forged by tragedy, the room filled with the heavy silence of sorrow and regret.

"How did he die?" Iris asked, her voice devoid of emotion, as if the words were mere echoes of a distant reality.

"He fell ill suddenly, consumed by worry for you. You understand the depth of his love for you. In his final moments, he lamented, expressing his intent to reach you. However, His Majesty and Her Majesty intervened, preventing him, as the Obsidian Crown's army had set their sights on your brother and the entire palace. No one dared to communicate or send you a letter, fearing the King of Obsidian Crown might discover our whereabouts," Rosetta explained, her words laden with the weight of a sorrowful truth.

"So that explains why I haven't received a single letter in the past five months?" Iris questioned, her realization cutting through the stoic facade.

"Yes, my father told me he met His Majesty and was bound by a promise never to reveal Nevan's death to you. I couldn't share the truth all this time due to that promise. I'm truly sorry!" Rosetta confessed, her voice breaking as the weight of the untold secret spilled out in tears.

Iris looked blankly ahead as she absorbed the weight of Rosetta's revelations. The truth unfolded like a heavy shroud, and with a sudden burst of emotion, she stood up. Rosetta, her expression filled with worry, stood alongside her, watching Iris with concern.

In a sudden hurry, Iris moved with purpose, opening the wardrobe, and began throwing clothes to the floor in a frantic manner. Rosetta, shocked by Iris's sudden outburst, tried to intervene. "Iris! No! What are you doing?! I understand you're angry with yourself and feeling sorrow, but please, stop it!" Rosetta pleaded, attempting to grab Iris to pull her back to a more composed state.

Iris, however, looked into Rosetta's eyes with a pain that she was trying to hold back. The turmoil within her manifested in the depths of her gaze, and in a voice heavy with regret, she confessed, "Everything was my fault. I understand that Nevan can't go on without me, and I know many people will die because of me. I know the threats to my parents' safety, yet I still opted to flee."

"But you will die if you go!" Rosetta cried, her desperation palpable as she clung to Iris, as if holding onto her would somehow defy the impending fate.

Iris, tears streaming down her face, reciprocated the hug, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision she had made. "I don't care what fate befalls me. I am willing to marry him if that's what he desires, or even sacrifice myself if it ensures the safety of my loved ones."

Rosetta, unwilling to accept the cruel choice before them, shook her head vehemently, the hug tightening as if she could shield Iris from the harsh reality. "No!!! I won't let you go! Take me with you!!"

"This is my fate, Rose. Not yours," Iris said, her voice a fragile mix of determination and resignation. She tried to pull away, but Rosetta clung desperately, unwilling to let go.

"Why did you allow me to stay with you? After the journey ended, while our friends returned, you remained, responding to your father's request to stay. I pleaded with you then, asking to remain by your side, to serve you as your servant and care for you as a friend!" Rosetta cried, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and desperation.

Iris, with a pained expression, pulled away with a serious look on her face. More tears rolled down her cheeks, and she declared with raw intensity, "I'm abandoning you now! I don't want you anymore!"

"No, please, please..." Rosetta took a step forward, her plea tinged with a heart-wrenching desperation. Iris, however, moved back, shaking her head with a resolute determination.

"It's because you're my friend I can't take you with me," Iris said, her words weighted with profound sadness.

Rosetta, unable to contain her grief, cried loudly and without restraint. She sank to her knees, desperation etched on her face as she desperately begged, "You choose to protect everyone, even if it means the uncertainty of your own future. For me, it's you whom I yearn to shield. My entire world has revolved around you since the day I first opened my eyes. Despite being a maid's daughter, you treated me as a sister, never tainted by disdain. You loved and shielded me from bullies. Now, it's my turn to protect you. Allow me, please..."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, showering them with the last light of the day. Iris nodded her head, a weak smile playing on her lips, as the fading sunlight painted the room in hues of amber and gold.

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The rain began to fall, transforming the roads into glistening paths, and a hurried hustle enveloped the streets as people sought refuge from the sudden downpour. Sipping on hot tea, Iris eased the tension in her brows, finding solace in the warmth. As the raindrops danced outside, she glanced at the window, a contemplative expression crossing her face. Setting the cup down, she rose from her chair and approached the window.

Her attention fixed on a solitary raindrop tracing its path down the glass, Iris was interrupted by the sound of the door.

"Are you okay?" Rosetta inquired, stepping closer to join Iris in observing the rain.

Iris remained silent, merely opening the window. The heavy rain and gusts of wind rushed in, causing Rosetta to step back and wipe her face. However, Iris stood her ground, closing her eyes and allowing the rain to shower over her, a silent communion with the storm. 

Rosetta, observing Iris and the packed suitcase, fetched a towel to dry her face and hair. Outside the hotel, a grand horse carriage came to a stop, the knights entered the hotel and engaged in conversation with the receptionist. Within the carriage, a man with closed eyes sat patiently. His slicked-back black hair and regal attire spoke of royalty, perhaps even resembling the king himself.

A sudden noise caught his attention, prompting him to open his cold eyes. As he parted the carriage curtain, his icy gaze scanned the surroundings until it fixed on Iris. With a subtle tilt of his head, he observed her standing in the rain, and in a swift and powerful movement, he stepped out of the carriage, a figure of authority in the midst of the downpour.

The coachman cautiously approached the man with trepidation. "Your Majesty!" he called out, but the man raised his hand, signaling him to stop. The coachman halted in his tracks, watching the king stride towards the hotel with an air of authority.

Concern etched on her face, Rosetta said worriedly, "Iris, you will get cold."

"You asked. This is how I feel," Iris replied, turning back to give her a small smile.

"You're worrying me." Sighing, Rosetta walked closer, holding a towel. Suddenly, loud sounds echoed around them, disrupting the quiet moment.

A perplexed expression etched across their faces, both Rosetta and Iris exchanged glances, their confusion mirroring each other. The unfamiliar sounds had disrupted the usual tranquility they had grown accustomed to during their year-long stay. Without hesitation, they rushed outside the room, their curiosity urging them to investigate the source of the commotion.

The empty hallway greeted them, its usual stillness replaced by an unsettling noise that persisted without respite. Following the sounds, their pace quickened, and this time, accompanying the mysterious noises, were the unsettling echoes of screams. A sense of worry crept over them as they hurried their steps, a shared concern etched on their faces.

As they reached the front desk reception, the source of the disturbance came into view. Before them, several masked men, resembling robbers, engaged in a fierce confrontation with knights—defenders who stood resolute, shielding the frightened women nearby. The air crackled with tension as the clash unfolded before Rosetta and Iris, plunging them into a situation that seemed to defy the peaceful routine they had known.

The King entered, and both Rosetta and Iris turned their attention toward him with curiosity, momentarily distracted from the ongoing chaos of the fight between the knights and the robbers. Amidst the clash of metal and shouts, a robber seized a woman, a smug expression on his face. In a sudden flash of light, however, his confidence was shattered by a clenched fist.

Shocked and disbelieving, Iris and Rosetta stared at the King, their jaws hanging open. The robber, dazed and beaten, quickly retreated, leaving his accomplices to face the justice meted out by the knights.

Iris couldn't shake the incredulity from her gaze as she eyed the King. She gulped, her mind racing with disbelief. 'There's no way he's real.'

As Iris looked into his black eyes, it was as if staring into the abyss—a chilling void that concealed the true depths of his icy nature. Suddenly, he turned his gaze towards her. Their eyes met, and Iris's eyes widened. Overwhelmed, she looked away, blinking rapidly with nervous energy.

The King walked towards her, his footsteps echoing in the room. As the sound grew louder, Iris's heart quickened its pace. She attempted to relax, but her shoulders involuntarily tensed, and she became stiff as he stood in front of her, a palpable tension hanging in the air.

She hesitated to look at him, a mix of fear and longing swirling within her. The apprehension of meeting his gaze clashed with the fear of not seeing him. Ultimately, she surrendered to the pull of her heart and locked eyes with him. In that moment, both of them stood immersed in the silent exchange, oblivious to the world around them.

Rosetta, witnessing the tension, clenched her fists in worry. The robber attempted to approach Iris, but the King swiftly intervened. He gripped her wrist, pulling her closer to the safety of his broad chest. For an instant, Iris forgot to breathe, absorbing the spicy and musky scent that enveloped her, realizing she was inexorably drawn to him.

In that suspended moment, she acknowledged she would never forget him. The want surged within her, a deep yearning that resonated strongly.

𝑆𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝒉𝑖𝑚.

𝐵𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦.

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑎𝑑𝑙𝑦.

Breaking the contact, Iris shifted her gaze to the king's soaked hair. Her eyes followed a raindrop, tracing a precarious path from his wet locks down to his cheek and then further to his neck. She took a deep breath, her focus momentarily diverted.

In that moment, the King's glare pierced, directed at the robber. Startled, the robber stumbled over his own feet, stepping back with fear evident in his eyes.

The atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly as the king took Iris by surprise. He turned her around so that her back faced him, moving in closely until his breath, warm and unsettling, tickled her neck. With deliberate slowness, he pointed a knife against her throat, his actions sending a shiver down her spine.

Shock and disbelief gripped Rosetta, and she attempted to move closer, only to be deterred by the vigilant knights. Even the other robbers, dumbfounded by the sudden turn of events, exchanged bewildered glances and hastily retreated, not wasting any time to escape the unfolding tension.

Iris gulped, acutely aware of the sharpness of the knife pressed against her skin. Despite the looming threat, her attention remained fixated on the King—the memory of his lingering touch on her wrist from before, the scent, and the paradoxical blend of cold and soaked warmth enveloping her.

Over the towering knights in front of her, Rosetta caught a glimpse of Iris and shouted, "What are you doing to her?!"

The King's eyes never wavered from Iris. He briefly glanced at her neck, a gesture that sent a shiver down Iris's spine. Then, with an unexpected tenderness, he rested his head in the curve of her neck, stunning Iris and nearly stealing her breath away. Nervousness coursed through her, and she shivered, caught in a moment of both vulnerability and inexplicable connection.

"Your Majesty," the knights bowed and respectfully retreated to the side.

Iris and Rosetta exchanged widened eyes in shock, the realization settling that it was none other than the King of Obsidian Crown, Lucious.

"What am I doing?" The King's voice, icy and commanding, sent thrills down Iris's spine.

His words, delivered with a chilling precision, melted away the anger that had coursed through Iris. A sudden vulnerability gripped her, and her knees felt weak. She loathed herself for the inability to muster anger and break free from his inexplicable grip.

She gulped, the weight of the situation pressing on her. Closing her eyes, she attempted to gather her thoughts. After a moment, she opened her eyes, realizing the futility of resistance.

Truth be told, it wasn't a failure she felt. Deep down, she didn't want to escape from him because...

𝑆𝒉𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑠𝒉𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑠.

𝑆𝒉𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑠𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝒉𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑠.

𝑆𝒉𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑠𝒉𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝒉𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝒉𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛.

"You are obeying me," Lucious asserted.

As if in a spell of trance, Iris nodded slowly, her focus solely on him, not even minding the dangerous sharpness of the knife against her neck. Rosetta, standing there in shock and dumbfounded, could only watch as the dance of submission and desire played out in the shadow of uncertainty.

*****

𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝒉𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 ♡

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ