EPISODE 2

The morning sun struggled to pierce the heavy curtains of Princess Rubella’s chamber, spilling thin slivers of light across the polished floors. She rose quietly, careful not to disturb the ghostly echoes of the palace that seemed to follow her everywhere. Even in the early hours, she felt the weight of the walls pressing down, reminding her that she was never truly alone—yet never truly seen.

Outside her door, a pair of giggles sliced through the quiet. Eva and Emma, her stepsisters, had already begun their morning torment. Unlike the fleeting mischief of ordinary siblings, their cruelty was deliberate, sharpened over years into a tool designed to unsettle her, to chip away at her resolve.

Rubella opened the door just as they appeared at the foot of the stairs, their expressions painted with faux sweetness.

“Good morning, Rubella,” Eva sang, her voice like honey laced with venom. “Did you sleep well, or did the shadows keep you company again?”

Emma smirked, stepping closer. “I saw you in the garden yesterday. You try so hard to smile, but it never reaches your eyes. Are you trying to pretend you belong here?”

Rubella’s jaw tightened, though her face remained calm. She had learned long ago that showing irritation was exactly what they wanted. Every sharp comment, every calculated jab, was meant to unravel her from within. But she refused to give them that satisfaction.

“Good morning,” she replied evenly, her voice steady, almost cold. “I slept well, thank you. And yes, I belong here, just as much as anyone else.”

Eva laughed, a sound that was too sharp to be innocent. “Oh, Rubella, you really do try. But being born from a different mother doesn’t make you… equal. Not in Father’s eyes, certainly not in ours.”

Emma stepped forward, lowering her voice, almost conspiratorial. “It’s funny how you wander the halls like you have any power. People see right through you. They pity you, that’s all.”

Rubella’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her gown. Each word was a blade, but she reminded herself that survival required more than brute resistance. She had spent her entire life navigating these subtle attacks, learning to move through the palace without tripping over the invisible snares her stepsisters laid for her.

“And yet,” Rubella said softly, almost as if to herself, “I am still here.”

Emma’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she quickly masked it. “Here? Barely. You’re tolerated, Rubella, nothing more. Father ignores you, and we… we just enjoy watching you squirm.”

Eva took a step closer, her voice lowering into something venomous. “You’ll never have what we have. You’ll never be cherished or admired. Even your mother’s memory can’t save you here.”

Rubella straightened her shoulders, refusing to retreat. “And yet, I continue to stand. Your words cannot make me vanish.”

The two sisters exchanged a glance, their eyes flashing with the thrill of their cruelty. “Bold words for someone so… fragile,” Eva hissed. “Do you even understand what it means to survive in this palace? To truly survive?”

Rubella met her gaze, unwavering. “I understand more than you ever will. Strength isn’t in cruelty or mockery—it’s in enduring, in holding yourself upright when no one cares whether you fall or not.”

Emma scoffed, leaning closer. “Endure? Patience? You’ll learn soon enough, dear sister, that patience only prolongs the inevitable. And endurance… endurance breaks eventually.”

Rubella’s lips pressed into a thin line. She could feel the mental weight pressing against her, the subtle attempt to make her doubt herself, to twist her confidence into insecurity. But years of neglect, years of standing alone, had built a shield stronger than their combined malice.

“I may break,” she said quietly, almost to herself, “but not today. Not by you.”

Eva leaned back, her smirk returning. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? It’s only a matter of time before even you realize your place.”

The stepsisters drifted down the corridor, their laughter trailing behind them like a shadow that refused to dissipate. Rubella closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a silent breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Their words stung, yes, but they were not the chains they believed them to be.

She moved toward her dressing table, where a small stack of books waited for her. Books were her sanctuary, her refuge from the constant games of manipulation that filled the palace halls. As she ran her fingers over the worn covers, she reminded herself: knowledge, cunning, and patience were her weapons. One day, perhaps, she would turn these halls into a place where she could step out of the shadows—where she could finally be more than a tolerated presence.

But today was not that day. Today, she survived. She endured. And though Eva and Emma believed themselves to be the victors of this morning’s silent battle, Rubella carried within her a quiet defiance, a fire that their petty cruelty could not extinguish.

As the morning progressed, Rubella moved through the palace with practiced grace. Every step was measured, every gesture deliberate. The court noticed her presence but treated her as they always had: polite, distant, indifferent. She allowed the indifference to pass over her like water over stone. It could not penetrate the armor she had built.

Later, in the library, she found a quiet corner to sit and write. Her pen scratched across the parchment, recording thoughts she would never speak aloud, strategies she would one day use. The mental harassment of her stepsisters had been harsh, but it had reminded her of the world she lived in—where kindness was scarce, cruelty was a weapon, and power was never granted freely.

As the sun climbed higher, casting sharp shadows across the marble floors, Rubella felt a strange clarity settle over her. Every taunt, every calculated word from Eva and Emma, had failed to diminish her. They sought to unsettle her, to break her spirit—but instead, they had reinforced it.

The palace was a cage, yes, but even within cages, some creatures find a way to sharpen their claws. Rubella had learned this early. And as she closed her book, she allowed herself the faintest smile, a secret acknowledgment of her own resilience.

Outside, the garden was alive with the morning bustle of servants, courtiers, and guards, yet Rubella felt removed from it all. She was both within the palace and apart from it, a shadow and a presence at the same time. And though Eva and Emma would continue their attempts at harassment, she knew something they could never understand: true strength is quiet, enduring, and patient.

For now, she would survive their attacks, endure their cruelty, and bide her time. One day, the princess who had been ignored, dismissed, and mentally tormented would no longer be a shadow. And when that day came, neither the palace walls nor the venomous laughter of her stepsisters could stop her.

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