The air was bitter with winter, but it wasn’t the cold that made her shiver. Chains clinked with each movement as Elira Virellan knelt before the royal palace. Her once-elegant gown was tattered, soaked in slush and blood. The snow fell silently, a cruel contrast to the screams that echoed in her mind.

A crowd had gathered, nobles in fine furs and commoners alike, all watching her like a spectacle. The noble daughter of House Virellan, branded a traitor. Her name the one she once wore with pride now spat with venom.

The royal guard stood on either side of her, swords unsheathed, as though she still posed a threat.

Her eyes found him on the marble steps, tall in ceremonial armor. Crown Prince Kaelion Thorne. The man she had once loved. The man she’d protected. The man who let them take her away without so much as a word.

“Elira Virellan,” the High Chancellor’s voice rang out, “you are hereby sentenced to death for high treason against the Crown. You conspired with foreign enemies, stole classified documents, and endangered His Highness.”

The words rang hollow in her ears. She didn’t scream. Didn’t beg.

All she did was look at Kaelion.

“Do you believe this?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Her throat ached from days of silence, from screaming for justice that never came.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.

But he didn’t speak.

That silence... it was the last betrayal.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Not out of fear, but out of finality. He had chosen the lie. Chosen to protect the crown’s image over the truth. Over her.

“Any last words?” a guard asked, sword poised.

Elira lifted her chin, regal to the very end.

“I was foolish to think loyalty mattered in a place like this.”

The blade cut through the air.

Darkness followed.

Burning pain.

A blinding light.

Then—

A gasp.

She bolted upright, breath ragged. Her hands trembled, touching her chest, her face. No chains. No blood. No snow.

Her eyes scanned the room. Rich drapes, familiar furniture, sunlight spilling through crystal-paned windows. This was her chamber... in the Virellan estate. Not a prison cell.

She scrambled to the mirror and froze.

The reflection that met her gaze was not the broken woman from the execution courtyard. It was her. Young. Barely eighteen. Eyes wide and full of innocence—innocence that had yet to be shattered.

This was the day before the Crown Prince’s engagement announcement. The day everything had started.

Elira staggered back from the mirror, heart racing.

“I died,” she whispered. “I was killed.”

But she was here. Alive. Back in time.

And she wasn’t the same.

Not anymore.

Elira sat by the window as morning light crept across her room. Outside, servants moved through the garden, busy preparing for the ball that would soon announce her engagement to the prince. Her stomach turned at the memory.

In the past, she had been nervous, giddy even—naïvely hopeful that her quiet devotion would be enough. That if she stood beside him, gave him her loyalty, he would see her.

Now she saw the truth.

Kaelion never saw her. Not really. She was a tool, a noble daughter to keep close, a shield against political storms. And when the storm came—he let it crush her.

Elira rose from the chaise, her reflection sharper than before.

She would not attend the ball as a doe-eyed bride-to-be. She would not wear white and pretend to be honored by the royal favor. Not this time.

She would live differently.

She would live for herself.

“Lady Elira,” her maid said as she entered, holding out a gown of pale gold, “this is for tonight’s announcement. His Highness requested—”

“Burn it,” Elira said, voice like ice.

The maid gasped. “My lady—!”

“I will not wear his colors,” she said simply. “I will not go.”

But the prince—

“I am not his.” Her voice didn’t tremble. “Not anymore.”

The maid hesitated, then bowed and left in silence.

Elira turned back to the window, watching the world begin again. This time, she would not chase fate. She would shape it.

No more devotion.

No more blind trust.

She would build her own power, one move at a time. And if Kaelion dared approach her again

She would remind him that favor, once lost, could not be begged for.

...~THE ONE WHO REFUSED THE CROWN ~...

...Word spread like wildfire....

Lady Elira Virellan did not attend the royal ball.

She refused the prince’s request.

She insulted the royal colors. Disrespected the throne.

By morning, the entire capital whispered her name with scandal, awe, and a hint of fear.

Elira, seated in her family’s drawing room, calmly sipped her tea.

Let them whisper.

In her past life, she had bent and bowed and bled for their approval. This time, she would stand still and watch them panic.

The door burst open without warning.

“Elira!”

Her father’s voice thundered through the room. Lord Virellan was a stern man loyal to the crown, ambitious, and proud. In the past, he had scolded her for not being ‘soft enough’ to please the prince.

But this time, Elira didn’t rise or look away.

“I hope you have a good explanation for humiliating the royal family,” he growled, face red. “Do you understand what you’ve done?!”

“Yes,” she said coolly. “I freed myself.”

His expression flickered. “You! what nonsense”

“You may yell,” she interrupted softly, placing her teacup down, “but I will not marry that man. Not now, not ever.”

“Elira!”

“I will not tie myself to someone who sees me as a tool.”

Her father stormed out moments later, too shocked to argue further. The servants avoided her gaze. Her mother sat frozen, hands trembling.

She had thrown a stone into still waters. And now, the ripples were moving toward the palace.

By evening, they came for her.

A royal carriage. The prince’s crest.

Elira stood in the garden, watching the sunset when the heavy footsteps approached.

She turned calmly. Her eyes met his the Crown Prince, in person.

Kaelion Thorne stood with the same cool, unreadable expression. Tall, composed, and quiet as ever. His presence had once set her heart racing. Now it only sparked a bitter chill.

“Lady Virellan,” he said.

“Your Highness,” she replied, curtly.

He studied her. “You did not attend.”

“I had no desire to.”

Silence stretched. She met his gaze, unflinching.

“Insolence,” he said quietly. “Do you truly wish to sever your ties with the Crown?”

“No,” she said. “I wish never to have been bound at all.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Confusion? Anger? Regret?

She didn’t care.

“You requested the engagement,” he said, voice low.

“I did,” she replied, “in a different life.”

Kaelion’s jaw tensed. “Explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Your Highness. I simply woke up.”

He stared at her like he didn’t recognize her. Perhaps, in a way, he didn’t. The obedient, lovesick girl he once knew had vanished.

Elira stepped forward, close enough for her words to sting.

“This time, I will not be your shadow. I will not wait for your favor. And I will not die for your silence.”

Kaelion blinked, as if the weight of her words struck deeper than expected.

She turned her back on him and walked away—leaving the future king speechless in a garden that no longer belonged to him.

Three days passed.

Three days since she defied the Crown. Since she looked the prince in the eyes and walked away. Since she reclaimed her freedom.

Society did what it always did when confused—it gossiped.

Lady Elira has lost her mind.

She must be in love with someone else.

She dared to reject the Crown Prince—how reckless. How foolish.

But Elira moved like none of it touched her.

She emerged from her estate not with shame, but with poise. Attending tea salons, literary gatherings, and charity events not in dresses that she once wore to impress, but in deep, striking shades of black, crimson, and sapphire. Unapologetic. Bold. A new woman.

In her past life, she had been careful. Soft-spoken. Harmless.

This time, she voiced opinions. She offered clever critiques of lawd. She praised noble houses that had been overlooked and subtly undermined those who once betrayed her. Every word was calculated, every smile sharpened like a blade.

And society didn’t know what to do with her.

The nobles began to notice. Young lords sought her attention not out of obligation, but out of intrigue. Older women praised her insight. She was becoming a name of her own not as a bride to be, but as a force in her own right.

Meanwhile, in the palace, unrest brewed.

Kaelion Thorne had not spoken of the incident publicly. But those closest to him whispered of his quiet anger. Of how he requested reports on Lady Virellan’s activities. Of how his gaze lingered on the court windows when her name was mentioned.

He was a man not used to being refused.

And now he was obsessed with the refusal itself.

Elira sat in a private tea lounge in the capital with Lady Anissa, the youngest daughter of the influential House Delacroix. In her first life, Anissa had died young barely living till twenties. But Elira remembered her intelligence, her passion for law.

“Why me?” Anissa asked cautiously, looking over the scroll Elira had shared. “You could work with any of the great houses. Why choose a minor one?”

Elira smiled, her gaze sharp and warm. “Because power is built on the overlooked. The underestimated. And I don’t need a great name to change the world I need someone with a voice.”

Anissa stared at her, something sparking in her eyes.

Elira would start here. With allies who were never given a chance. With women whose names history had forgotten. This time, she would not beg for a throne. She would build a court of her own.

She would become untouchable.

That night, a letter arrived.

No crest. No seal.

“You’ve changed...changed into someone who no one knows. I don't know the reason of this change but i will be the first one to know it”

Elira folded the note without a flicker of emotion and threw it into fire.

Let him try.

She had already died once because of him.

This time, she would not be the girl he could kill or control.