Where the Waters Suddenly Deepen
Safety.
It is the anchor that steadies your ship in the heart of a storm, the lighthouse guiding you through the darkest night, the warmth of a fire on a freezing evening, the voice that whispers in your ear that everything will be all right.
It is the invisible thread that weaves trust, the silent promise of being beyond harm. Yet safety has always been tied to people, people who make you feel secure in your mind and steady in your soul.
And safety is what I felt when I saw Eliana's face, the face I had missed so fiercely these past months.
The face I regretted not embracing before it went so far from me.
After the servant informed me of Eliana's legion's arrival, I ran downstairs at once, not because I carried dreadful news for her, but because my heart had not stopped longing for her, nor regretting what had happened between us the last time we spoke.
I stopped at the end of the stairs, staring down the long corridor before me. Eliana stood at its center in her polished steel armor etched with golden patterns, the generals following behind her in their silver armor. She was speaking, then she stopped when she saw me standing at the head of the stairs.
And she smiled at me.
Yes, that smile I carried in my memories, the one I loved, the one that made me feel safe, that promised everything would be fine.
I began walking toward her, no, almost running.
What she did then was swift: she unfastened the golden clasps of her armor, letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clang that silenced everyone. It was the first time in months she had shed her armor so easily, and that alone gave me the courage to run into her arms, my favorite place in the world.
I hadn't realized my face was drenched in tears. I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and I knew it was all because that feeling of safety had returned.
Eliana held me, the embrace I had not received in five years, tightening her arms around me.
The generals stepped back, the soldiers behind them bowing respectfully before withdrawing.
I didn't want to pull away, and Eliana did not loosen her hold, but I stepped back because I wanted to see her face.
"Welcome back," I said, tears filling my eyes, smiling through them.
Eliana let out a soft sigh, smiling as she replied, "I'm glad to be home again."
"Eliana, so many things have happened, and I don't even know where to begin. First... I want to apologize for what happened between us last time...."
"I know, Selene," Eliana said gently, wiping my tears. "And I'm sorry too. I never meant to leave you that way."
"No, don't apologize. I should have been more understanding. I know what you do is for my protection. I just... I can't stay away from you."
"I know, Selene..." she said softly, a tone I did not think I had ever heard from her before. "I'm not good at this, am I? Expressing my feelings, I truly don't know how. I learned how to lead an army, how to end battles, how to wipe a country off the map or rebuild one... but no one ever taught me how to be a sister. So, Selene, I...."
I interrupted her. "No, Eliana. You were. You were a sister to me when we were little, when the world was less miserable. I just... I miss those days. And for what it's worth, I'll do my best for us to be like we were again."
My tears threatened to fall.
She smiled at me and gently patted my head. "Then I'll do my best too."
"Eliana, the palace has been in chaos since you left, and I don't know what's wrong with Father. He has....."
"It's all right, Selene," she interrupted. "I'm back now. I'll fix everything. You know Father will be alarmed...he'll have to leave the position to me, and he does not wish to step down yet. So don't worry. I know things aren't as they should be."
"No... so much has truly changed. The first of them....."
I stopped speaking when Eliana's gaze shifted from me to something behind me.
I turned to see what she was looking at.
It was only my father....staring at her with that cold expression.
Had he always looked at Eliana that way?
Or was I only noticing it now?
Why does he look at her so coldly? She secured the borders. She won.
I turned back to Eliana and froze.
The way she looked at Father... her face had gone rigid. That expression she wore for war. A face she had never once turned on me.
"Selene. We'll speak later."
That was all she said. She released my hand, and that feeling returned the ache in my stomach, the coldness creeping into my fingertips.
Why were Father and Eliana looking at each other like that?
I watched her walk after him.
I had never realized before how stiff my sister's back always was.
I had always believed they shared the closest bond, the one I never had. Eliana had grown beneath his wing since childhood. She was always at his side.
But... had she been facing those looks since she was young?
Was I the one who received all the tenderness, while believing myself alone?
Father had never looked at me that way.
Had I merely been a spectator in a war I never knew existed?
Writer's POV
The feeling of safety she had experienced moments ago vanished. Despite the palace's warmth, Selene felt cold. The silence that settled over the corridor was deafening, heavy with years of unspoken disappointment.
Barbara's voice startled her from beside her."Your Highness, Penelope has arrived, and she has brought the gowns for the ball."
Selene nodded, placing a hand over her heart before walking off to meet her.
The throne had always been what Eliana pursued since childhood, not out of love for it, but because she had known nothing else. It had been her only purpose in life. Whether it was an illness or an obsession, she did not know.
The hall, with its vast windows, allowed generous streams of escaping sunlight to spill inside, light that should have made the space warm. Yet this chamber had always carried a cold that froze the body. A cold whose source she never understood. Was it memories stripped of their feelings? Or was it something present storms of ice within someone? Was it the glances? The words?
She followed her father, the Emperor, into the throne room, a place she had entered countless times as a child, long before she had been named Crown Princess. She used to sit with him there, in that corner to the right of the throne where a chess table stood. She had always been his favorite opponent.
For a fleeting second, the echo of their laughter rang in her ears. A passing memory that made her wonder once more, Is this the same man who used to play with me? Was he not once my favorite rival?
The Emperor took his seat upon the throne, his hands resting against its golden armrests as though inscribing his ownership upon it. He looked at Eliana with an expression she could not decipher. Was it condescension? Pride?
As for Eliana, all he saw was her stillness, that same cold, vacant expression, indifferent to him and his grandeur. But had he looked closer, he would have noticed the tight clench of her fist.
The Emperor began speaking, his tone laced with mockery. "So, the victorious commander returns. You've caused quite a stir at the borders, from what I hear."
A calculating look crossed Eliana's face, as though she were accepting a challenge. If he wished to play with words, then so would she.
"I have secured the Empire's borders, Your Majesty. I would have expected that to be a source of relief to the throne."
For a brief moment, a flicker of pride passed through the Emperor's eyes. He quickly brushed a hand over his face, and the coldness returned.
He did not respond with an intentional silence, heavy and dismissive.
Eliana broke it.
"I received reports of changes within the council. The appointment of a lord from House Draco to a judicial position is... unconventional. I spent three months at the borders eliminating an external threat, only to return and find the threat now within. May I ask the wisdom behind this decision?"
"The wisdom," he replied, "belongs to the Emperor, Eliana. When you sit upon this throne, you may make your unconventional choices. Until then, you follow orders. Do not allow your small success at the borders to make you forget your place."
Eliana's jaw tightened. For a moment, she felt the threat beneath his words.
"Your Majesty, House Draco is known for its contempt toward laws that do not serve its interests. How can the people trust our rule if one of its leaders is openly corrupt? The position was suited for Theodore. He respects the law, and...."
"That Empire," the Emperor cut in sharply, "was built upon laws more than a thousand years old, laws beyond the understanding of people like you. A rule that surpasses youthful ambition. You speak of law, yet you act emotionally. Your anger over Theodore. Your blind loyalty to your friends. That is a weakness. And an Emperor must never be weak. Perhaps you are not as ready for the throne as I believe."
Her heart pounded violently.
He was using it against her emotions. Forcing her to deny them, suppress them, until she became hollow, like an empty shell.
She spoke calmly. "Your Majesty, as Crown Princess and acting Head of the Judicial Council, I should have been consulted. This will place my standing in question before the people. It will make me vulnerable to ridicule and to doubt regarding the position I am to inherit."
The Emperor laughed a short, scornful sound that unsettled her more than shouting would have. Her mind felt blank. Her fists tightened until her nails pierced her palms. She could feel something warm gathering at her fingertips, yet she felt no pain. The psychological pressure made physical pain seem almost absurd.
"Be very careful, Eliana," the Emperor said. "The throne is not a birthright. It is a grant from the Emperor. And grants can be declined. Do not test my patience."
Was he threatening her with the throne?
Yes.
He knew her obsession with it. He knew it was her weakness. He preferred to see her as an emotional girl rather than as his heir. For years, he had shaped her as he pleased because he knew exactly how to make her feel threatened.
After a moment of silence, she bowed slightly.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I understand your position. I will perform my duty as the law requires."
Then she turned and left the chamber.
Her steps were heavy, carrying the exhaustion of the entire journey with her. A fatigue she had not felt throughout the past months, yet one conversation with the Emperor had dimmed her entire world. She did not know how she made it up to her wing.
"Do not allow anyone to enter the wing, regardless of who they are."
That was what she instructed the guards as she walked upright, her head held high. She was still herself, the commander, the Crown Princess.
Until her bloodied hand began to tremble.
And she became a child again.
A thirteen-year-old child is leaving a meeting with her father and his advisors. A child who did not know she was being subjected to immense psychological pressure. A child who did not understand why her chest felt crushed, why her lungs would not draw in air.
The memory of her first panic attack flashed through her mind. And when her breathing began to falter once more, she moved slowly to the farthest corner of the room, clutching her chest. Her vision blurred.
She sank to the floor, pressing her back firmly against the stone wall, grounding herself in its physical solidity. She closed her eyes and began counting not in a gentle rhythm, but in the cadence of a soldier.
"One, two, three, four—inhale. One, two, three, four—hold. One, two, three, four—exhale."
She repeated it several times.
When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell upon a ring beside the table near her bed. She reached for it and slipped it onto her finger. It was a simple silver ring bearing no crest, yet its emotional worth to her was immeasurable. It was the only truth in her world.
Her mother's ring, the late Empress.
She pressed her hand to her heart, still breathing, still counting.
Slowly, her lungs began to cooperate. The trembling subsided. Her vision cleared.
She drew her knees to her chest.
She knew she was not well. She knew the pressure she endured would one day break her in a way that could not be undone.
She did not cry.
Tears were a luxury she could not afford.
Eliana lay down on her bed, rising only with difficulty, her legs no longer steady. All she could think was that she must grow accustomed to her father threatening her with the throne. He did it whenever he had nothing else to say.
She began to suspect he did it out of boredom.
She turned restlessly, trying to think of something positive about the banquet tomorrow, the ball, Selene's face. The faces of her soldiers when she would present their rewards, especially the Third Legion, who had endured so long at Fort Phoenix. It was time they returned to the capital to reunite with their families. She could assign the Fourth Legion to take their place.
She was utterly exhausted physically and mentally.
It did not take long before sleep stole her away from the claws of her thoughts.
At the same time, Selene was unable to enter Eliana's wing. She argued briefly with the guard, but then she remembered how exhausted her sister had looked. She could not burden her now with matters she herself had not yet confirmed or with something as trivial as trying on a gown. Disappointed, she returned to her own wing, waiting for tomorrow with the same restless anticipation.
She did not know how the conversation between Eliana and their father had unfolded after those harsh, exchanged glances.
She lay down on her bed as well, and it did not take long before sleep claimed her.
_____________________________________________________________________
There are kinds of cold that have nothing to do with seasons.
A cold born in the silence of empty halls, nourished by words left unspoken, growing in the shadows cast by crowns.
This cold has a memory.
It remembers the weight of armor striking the floor in a rare moment of emotion. It remembers the whisper of silk brushing past cold steel. It remembers the glances exchanged across a dinner table, sharper than any blade. It remembers hands withdrawn, distances created between bodies that once stood close.
In a palace accustomed to intrigue, such cold becomes part of the architecture. It lives within the sheen of polished marble and hides in the folds of heavy velvet curtains. You can feel it like a hidden draft when passing a closed door, or like the sudden hush that falls over a room when a certain person enters.
On the day of celebration, that cold was at its peak. It danced with the sunlight slipping into the palace, draining its brilliance until it seemed pale and artificial.
It curled around the scent of rare flowers, stealing their warmth and leaving behind a fragrance beautiful, yet hollow.
No one in the palace was immune to it. Only a few recognized it. For most, it was merely a fleeting shiver, blamed on a draft or the weariness of the day.
_______________________
On the other side of the palace, the cold was not merely a feeling; it was the natural climate of Eliana's wing.
She had risen before dawn, and as always, the first thing she did was practice her relentless sword routine on the private balcony of her chambers.
When she returned inside, she found Astoria and a maid standing silently beside her bed. And on the bed, there was no box, only the gown itself, laid out in full splendor.
It was Selene's gift.
Eliana froze.
The gown was an intricate masterpiece, telling the story of an entire sky. Its base was ivory silk, overlaid with cascading layers of chiffon like delicate clouds. On one side, there was a deep bronze hue, the color of the earth she had fought upon. On the other hand, a midnight blue like the sky at its darkest hour. The colors met and intertwined, bound together with shimmering golden threads like intertwined fates.
And the flowers, celestial blossoms in blue and white, embroidered with precision. Dense along the darker edge, they scattered and ascended lightly across the translucent layers, like stars shimmering across a galaxy. The sleeves were wide and flowing, sheer and embroidered with the same blossoms, giving an impression of both strength and grace.
She touched the fabric.
The design carried the contradictions of her own nature: earth and sky, war and court, strength and vulnerability. It was a gesture of profound understanding from Selene, deeper than Eliana had expected.
But beside that masterpiece, a stack of urgent reports awaited her on the desk. Reports of Draco troop movements. And most importantly, a report regarding Theodore.
"Under investigation for insulting the Imperial Family ."
Eliana turned her gaze from the gown and returned to the harsh reality. She sat at her desk, feeling her isolation sharply.
She glanced at her schedule. "Morning banquet." "Evening ball."
She exhaled softly.
She would wear the gown. Not only because it was her duty, nor solely because it was her sister's gift, but because it was a different kind of armor. A statement.
A gown that blended the elegance of the court with the strength of a warrior.
Today, they would see her not only as a victorious commander but as heir to the throne, in all the complexity and grandeur that title carried.
"One duty after another," she murmured to herself, looking at the blue embroidery that reminded her of her legion's banner.
In today's first battle, she would wear a mask of silk and gold and use it to remind them who she truly was.
She rose from her chair and began to prepare.
______________
In her sunlit chambers, Princess Selene was the first to feel its subtle touch.
She stood before her tall mirror while her maid, Barbara, added the final touches to her gown for the morning banquet.
The dress was a dream in pale violet. It seemed woven from dawn mist and lavender blossoms. The bodice was entirely adorned with crystals and silver beads, shimmering with every movement like a net of frozen dew. Delicate chains of jewels draped from her shoulders and waist, swaying lightly and catching the light.
The skirt was a waterfall of organza and crepe layers, each edged with a thin silver trim, graduating in color from deep violet to translucent white, creating a sense of depth and motion. Scattered crystals along the lower layers resembled glistening raindrops.
"It is a gown worthy of legend, Your Highness," Barbara said. "I have never seen anything so beautiful."
Selene smiled, touching one of the hanging jewels.
It was the embodiment of perfect beauty, calm, and order. Everything about it was precisely in place.
Yet wearing it this morning felt strange.
As though she were dressing in the costume of someone she no longer was.
Her mind replayed yesterday's scene: her sister's retreating, the silence she left behind colder than any winter frost.
That morning, Selene had sent a gown of matching spirit, of her own design, to her sister's wing. A bridge, she hoped, between their two different worlds.
She looked at her reflection.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Princess Selene, the jewel of the Empire, was clad in a gown from a dream.
But behind the crystalline mask, she felt the cracks beginning to spread through her perfect world.
For the first time, she did not look forward to the celebration.
She feared it.
___________________________________________________________________
Guests began arriving in the western hall, taking their seats at scattered tables and admiring the soaring ceiling adorned with historical murals and works by renowned artists. The western hall was the largest in the palace, used for all daytime ceremonial banquets. Sunlight streamed through its high windows, lending the space a warmer glow.
The guests varied from families close to the ruling house, neutral houses, and even some who opposed Eliana's rule. House Draco. House Augustus.
Of course, they would attend, so long as the Emperor remained in power.
The hall shimmered with silk gowns in soft morning hues, blush, gold, and pastel tones. Whispers and sidelong glances blended with the gentle music performed by Maestro Cassian and his orchestra, whose melodies matched the atmosphere and lent it additional warmth.
A herald's steady, roughened voice rang out:
"His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Cassius Sovana... and Princess Selene Sovana."
The golden doors of the hall opened.
The Emperor entered, with Princess Selene beside him, looking like a heroine stepped from a fairytale in her magnificent gown. Every person in the hall bowed deeply in respect until the Emperor permitted them to rise.
They descended the staircase together.
Selene held her father's hand, and they appeared every inch the devoted father and daughter, their bond deeper than the ocean.
As they reached the floor, guests flooded toward them with greetings and courteous smiles. Soon, the Emperor withdrew, taking his seat at the elevated chair at the head of the hall, surrounded by influential families eager to engage him in conversation and offer their entertainment.
Selene remained amid the gathering, speaking graciously as young men and women alike clustered around her.
Then a guard's voice cut through the hall, announcing the one for whom this banquet had been held:
"Her Imperial Highness, Crown Princess Eliana Sovana."
Silence fell.
A silence of anticipation.
The doors began to open.
And then Eliana appeared from behind the doors.
She looked like a sun that could not be conquered, especially with the morning light catching the delicate shimmer woven through her gown. The entire hall bowed.
But there was a difference.
Between the first bow and the second, it became unmistakable. They bent lower this time. Their heads dipped further. Hands rose to rest over hearts in a gesture of allegiance they had not offered the Emperor.
The loyalty in the room was clear.
Eliana closed her eyes for a brief moment, savoring the quiet intoxication that accompanied such recognition. When she opened them, she allowed the guests to rise and began descending the staircase.
The first to approach her was Selene.
Selene looked her up and down with open admiration ."Well... I expected it to be beautiful, but this exceeds everything. You look like a masterpiece, sister."
A faint smile touched Eliana's lips. "The masterpiece was designed by you, Selene."
Neither sister noticed the stunned silence that had settled over the hall, especially at the sight of Eliana's soft smile, one utterly devoid of the polished diplomacy she usually wore.
Two young men broke through the hesitant crowd of nobles.
The first was Lord Alaric Stonenorth, heir of the North and son of General Robertson. Behind him walked Sir Caius Veridian.
Eliana's gaze sharpened, assessing the boldness of this public display of loyalty. Yet as they approached, her eyes flickered briefly toward her sister.
Selene had frozen.
It was not merely the presence of the northern lord that affected her.
It was him.
Alaric.
Her mind pulled her back to a gray day years ago, shortly after Eliana had been named Crown Princess. Selene, still a child, had been crying in a forgotten corridor, grieving the sudden distance from the sister who had once played with her daily but was now consumed by training and councils.
A shy boy with dark hair had found her that day, visiting the palace with his father. He had not said much. He simply sat beside her in silence, then drew a smooth white stone from one of the northern rivers from his pocket and handed it to her.
"In the North," he had said quietly, "we do not cry often. We build dams."
It had been a small gesture, but she had never forgotten it. He had been the first person to notice her sadness when the world's attention was fixed on Eliana.
Over the years, their meetings had been rare and glances in corridors, passing acknowledgments. Yet with every glimpse, childish admiration had grown into something deeper.
And now he stood before her no longer the shy boy, but a man. Strong. Steady. Still carrying the same quiet resilience in his gray eyes.
Selene stood motionless, her lips parted slightly in silent astonishment. Before either spoke, Eliana noticed the delicate bloom of crimson rising from Selene's neck to her cheeks.
It was not embarrassment at the spectacle.
It was something far more personal.
Everything else faded from Eliana's awareness. Lord Draco. Her father. The weight of the Empire.
All she saw was her little sister, who had never been skilled at hiding her emotions, wearing admiration plainly across her face.
Eliana studied Alaric. His solid build. His serious expression. The way he stood was like the mountains he came from, unyielding and dependable.
Then she looked back at Selene, who was desperately attempting to hide her blush behind a cup of water.
Eliana's jaw tightened slightly.
Not in anger.
In something else entirely.
Protection.
She had spent her life protecting an empire, its borders, its people. But now she understood there was another kind of protection. More fragile. More important.
Is my little sister... in love?
The thought startled her battle-hardened mind. The day had grown more complicated. She was no longer guarding only her throne.
She was guarding Selene's heart.
And that raised the stakes considerably.
Lord Alaric Stoneworth was tall and solidly built, his physique shaped by countless hours of training with heavy weapons. He was not handsome in the polished way admired by courtiers; his features were sharp and unrefined, as though carved from the stone of his mountains. His thick black hair was cut short and practical. His skin bore the deep bronze of northern sun and icy winds, making him appear more seasoned soldier than noble lord.
But his gray eyes were steady and calm, carrying sincerity and unwavering loyalty.
Behind him, Sir Caius Veridian stood in striking contrast. Elegant and refined, his lighter complexion had not known harsh climates. His light brown hair was meticulously styled; his features symmetrical and charming. His brown eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, constantly evaluating the room as though he had been born for court intrigue.
The two men stopped before Eliana and Selene.
Alaric bowed a soldier's bow to his commander.
"Your Imperial Highness. Princess Selene. In the name of the North, we welcome your victorious return."
Caius stepped forward gracefully, offering a confident smile."My lady commander, you have restored not only our safety, but our pride. And Princess Selene, your presence brings beauty befitting this triumph. The Empire celebrates today because of the daughters of Emperor Sovana."
For the first time since entering the hall, warmth flickered faintly in Eliana's eyes.
"Lord Alaric. Sir Caius. It was the courage of your northern men that secured this victory. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten."
Selene forced herself to steady her racing heart. When she spoke, her voice was softer than usual.
"Lord Alaric... I have heard much of your fortresses' endurance. The northern mountains must be... formidable."
He seemed briefly surprised she addressed him directly. Under the court's gaze, he appeared momentarily uncomfortable but answered honestly.
"They are harsh, Princess. But beautiful. We have small flowers there, we call them Frost Stars. They grow in the most unforgiving conditions. They remind us that beauty can bloom anywhere."
As he spoke, his gaze flickered almost unconsciously to her violet gown shimmering with crystal light.
Selene smiled genuinely. For a fleeting moment, she forgot the entire hall.
"Frost Star... that is a beautiful name."
Caius intervened smoothly, sensing the attention had lingered long enough.
"We hope you will find some rest now, my lady commander, though I doubt the court will grant you such peace. Many matters are awaiting your attention."
A coded reference. Theodore. The council.
Eliana caught it instantly.
"Rest is a luxury, Sir Caius. Duty does not end. But loyal allies lighten the burden."
Her gaze lingered meaningfully on the two men, then on Selene, whose faint smile still lingered before shifting across the hall to House Draco's table, where Lucius watched with a cold, calculating stare.
"Enjoy the banquet. We will speak later."
They bowed again and withdrew.
The sisters moved toward the royal table. From his elevated seat, Emperor Sovana had observed the entire exchange, his expression unreadable.
As soon as the sisters sat, the hall followed suit. Servants began presenting the courses.
Eliana's gaze drifted across the room and landed on Isabella Faro.
Heiress of the powerful Faro merchant family. Elegant. Sharp-eyed. Practical in her intelligence. She did not pursue politics for power but for stability. Civil unrest and chaos were bad for trade.
Isabella met Eliana's gaze and inclined her head slightly.
It was a small gesture, but it carried the weight of ships heavy with gold, and the promise of quiet, steady support.
Eliana returned the nod and faced forward once more.
A brief silence fell over the main table where Celine and Eliana were seated. The Emperor had not yet arrived. Eliana glanced at him; he was talking with a group of people. Music and distant chatter filled the void, but around the princesses, the air was charged with unspoken words.
Eliana leaned slightly toward Celine, closing the distance between them. Her face remained stiff as usual, the Crown Princess mask firmly in place, making her next words completely unexpected.
Eliana: (in a quiet voice, as if discussing a military strategy) "So... Sir Caius Viridian. He seems like a skilled courtier. Charming, intelligent."
Celine lifted her gaze from the untouched plate in front of her, surprised by the comment.
Celine: "Oh... yes, I think so. He was very kind."
Eliana continued in the same serious tone, her eyes fixed on her glass.
Eliana: "He comes from a good family, heir to a considerable fortune. Handsome and knows how to choose his words. He would be a suitable husband for any lady at court."
Celine froze for a moment. Was Eliana hinting at something? Was she suggesting...?
Celine: (hesitant, her hands beginning to sweat lightly as she realized that if Eliana proposed Caius as a match, she wouldn't be able to refuse, she spoke in a trembling voice)
"I hadn't thought of it that way... He is..."
Eliana: (cutting her off calmly, still not looking at her)
"But he's not from the North."
At that word, Eliana finally turned and looked directly into Celine's eyes. The mask vanished for a moment, revealing the gaze of an elder sister sharp, perceptive, and filled with something like...
amusement.
Celine understood immediately. The question had never been about Caius. It was a test. Heat crawled up her face again, stronger than the first time.
Celine: (almost whispering, looking at her hands in her lap)
"Eliana..."
Eliana: (returns to her serious tone, though a faint, nearly invisible smile lingers at the corner of her mouth)
"Just make sure the Frost star you like isn't just a cold stone, Celine. The North is harsh, and its men harsher."
It was a joke, but also a warning. It was Eliana's way of saying, "I've seen you. And I'm paying attention now."
Before Celine could respond, the Emperor arrived and sat before them. The private moment ended as abruptly as it had begun, and Eliana replaced her icy mask, ready to face the next battle. But Celine, for the first time in a long while, felt a small warmth in her heart. Her sister had seen her. And that was all that mattered.
Everyone continued their meal quietly; no conversation occurred at the table. Only scattered whispers from around the hall and the soft music could be heard.
After everyone finished eating, the Emperor stood. As he did, all rose lightly and bowed to him. He left, and they sat again, as he would later return for the evening ball. Guests began moving to their assigned rooms, and Eliana went back to her office. Celine returned to her suite. After Eliana left, Celine went to take a bath, relax a little, and prepare for the evening ball.
In Eliana's office...
Eliana stood behind her desk, made of dark oak. Alaric and Caius were standing before her.
Eliana: "Thank you both for your public support today. That was a bold move, and it did not go unnoticed."
Caius: "Loyalty that is not declared in difficult times is worthless, Commander."
Alaric: (nodding in agreement) "The North stands with you. That is no secret."
Eliana: "Then, let's talk about Theodore. What have you heard?"
Caius: "The charges of treason are ridiculous. His father, Advisor Thaddeus, is in a miserable state. Theodore's imprisonment is a clear message from the Emperor to anyone who supports legal reform. The new Lord Draco in the council is overseeing the investigation. It's a political farce."
Eliana: (coldly) "Theodore was the voice of reason in the council. I need to get him out. What are our options?"
Alaric: "My men can storm the prison. It will be chaotic, but it's possible."
Eliana: (raising her hand) "No. That's exactly what they want. It would give the Emperor reason to declare me a rebel. We must do this through the law, the law they claim to uphold."
Caius: "There is an old legal procedure that allows the Crown Princess to request a 'Review of Honor' for any case affecting the integrity of the judiciary itself. If we can provide evidence that Theodore's imprisonment was politically motivated to obstruct the council's work, you can enforce the review."
Eliana: (looking at Caius) "Can you gather testimony from the other council members who have been intimidated? Secret testimony, of course."
Caius: "I'll do better. I'll compile a list of the laws Theodore was working on and show how his imprisonment directly serves the Draco family's interests. Conflict of interest will be the basis for a legal challenge."
Eliana: (nodding in approval) "Excellent. That's the path we will take."
After the serious discussion ended, Eliana leaned on her desk, a strange glimmer appearing in her eyes. She looked directly at Alaric, and her serious mask returned completely.
Eliana: (in an entirely neutral tone) "Lord Alaric."
Alaric straightened immediately. "Yes, Commander?"
Eliana: (looking at him with complete seriousness, without a trace of a smile) "Tell me, do you like flowers?"
Alaric froze in place. The question was unexpected and strange; he didn't know how to answer. Flowers? Was this some kind of test? Was there a right answer and a wrong one? If he said yes, he might seem weak in the eyes of the warrior-commander. If he said no, he might seem harsh and unfeeling. His military mind, accustomed to clear questions about tactics and fortifications, was completely baffled by this simple question.
Alaric: (hesitating, feeling a bead of sweat slide down his neck) "Flowers...? I... I respect... their role in nature, Commander."
It was a desperate diplomatic answer, and it made him feel like a fool in his own ears.
Beside him, Caius quickly turned his face and raised a hand to cover his mouth, pretending to cough, while his shoulders shook with silent laughter. He understood immediately. He had heard Alaric mention the Frost star to Celine and realized Eliana was playing a clever, cold-blooded game.
Eliana: (continuing with deadly seriousness, tilting her head slightly) "You respect their role in nature... an interesting answer. Some would say that the most beautiful flowers are the most delicate. One must be very careful around them."
Then, without another word, she returned to her papers, leaving Alaric standing in complete confusion, wondering what grave mistake he had just made.
Caius stepped in smoothly, patting Alaric's arm with feigned sympathy.
Caius: "Don't worry. The Commander sometimes enjoys testing her men with philosophical questions. It's her way of ensuring we think beyond the battlefield."
Alaric looked at Caius with gratitude, but the cold still ran down his spine, convinced he had somehow failed his commander in a way he did not yet understand.
At that moment, a light knock was heard at the door.
Eliana: "Enter."
The door opened to reveal Lady Isabella Faro, in full elegance and calm.
Isabella: "your highness. I hope I am not interrupting anything important."
Eliana: "Not at all, Lady Isabella. Join us."
As Isabella entered, Caius's expression changed. His playful smile vanished, replaced by sharp focus. A spark of admiration shone in his eyes, but he quickly hid it behind a mask of polite challenge.
Caius: (bowing slightly) "Lady Isabella. It is good to see that commerce finds time for matters of the state."
Isabella caught the competitive tone in his voice but did not acknowledge it openly.
Isabella: (with a calm smile) "Sir Caius. Commerce a state matter. Armies are not moved by polite words, but by the gold paid by merchants."
It was a direct and veiled strike. Caius's jaw stiffened slightly.
Caius: "True. But gold is worthless without political vision to guide it. The Viridian family has funded and directed the throne for generations, long before the Faro family's first ship set sail."
Isabella: (almost ignoring his comment, turning to Eliana) "I have information about the iron shipments we discussed, Commander. It's more alarming than we thought."
Caius looked at her, slightly annoyed by being ignored, but at the same time impressed by her cool confidence. She was an opponent worthy of respect. In that moment, he decided he would greatly enjoy proving that his political intelligence was as valuable as her gold.
Eliana took the scroll and broke the seal. She read the contents quickly, her expression growing sterner with each line.
Eliana: "These are not just weapons. These are numbers enough to equip an entire new army. Where are they getting the money for all this?"
Isabella: "That's the worrying part. The money is not coming from the Draco family's coffers; they spend lavishly in the capital to maintain appearances. The money comes from outside sources. My ships have tracked unregistered gold shipments from the western kingdoms, flowing into front companies controlled by Lord Augustus."
Alaric and Caius fell silent, realizing the gravity of this. This was no longer just an internal ambition; it had become an international conspiracy.
Alaric: "Treason. They are cooperating with the Empire's enemies."
Caius: (now completely serious, forgetting his rivalry with Isabella) "This changes everything. If we can prove it, this is no longer just a political case; it is high treason. We could eliminate them. But which enemies of the Empire could spend this amount of gold?"
Eliana and Isabella exchanged glances, each thinking of one, or perhaps a group, of enemies.
Isabella: (looking directly at Caius for the first time) "It doesn't matter who funds them. The important thing is to cut off the hand that takes the money. Proof is difficult, Sir Caius. They are clever. They use intermediaries and falsified ledgers. My men can track the gold, but linking it directly to Lord Augustus to the council requires more than shipping reports."
Eliana: (folding the scroll and placing it into a nearby candle flame until it burned to ash) "Then our mission is clear. Alaric, I want you to increase patrols along the western border. Any suspicious movements, any unusual convoys, report to me immediately."
Alaric: "It will be done, Commander."
Eliana: (looking at Caius) "Caius, I want you to begin quietly investigating within the court. Who meets whom? Who owes loyalty to the Draco family? Find the weakest link."
Caius: "I will be their shadow, Commander."
Eliana: "Lady Isabella, continue your work. Follow the money. Gold always leaves a trail. You two" (looking at Caius and Isabella), "your methods may differ, but now you are working toward the same goal. I expect you to cooperate."
Her final words were a clear command. Caius looked at Isabella, who responded with a short, professional nod. The small rivalry ended, and the forced partnership began.
Eliana: "Now, go. We have much work to do before tonight's ball. Raise no suspicions."
The three bowed and left the office, leaving Eliana alone with the smoke of the burned scroll and the burden of knowledge that the war she was waging was far greater and more dangerous than she had imagined.
Eliana let the papers fall from her hand for a moment, realizing that she now had not just allies, but a group of young, ambitious wolves, each eager to prove their worth. And, in her opinion, this was the best kind of alliance.
Meanwhile, in another suite...
Someone threw herself onto her bed, placing her hands on her face, feeling embarrassed as she tried to cool the fire burning on her cheeks.
She hadn't expected Eliana to discover her so quickly, and even joked with her in the process...
Celine sat on her bed as Barbara entered to massage her feet and help her prepare for the ball.
Barbara: "You look happy, Your Highness," she said, removing her dress so Celine remained in her small underdress, and sat in the massage chair.
Celine: "Is it really that obvious? Well, I saw Lord Alaric today... No matter how much I tried to act normally, I turned red. Eliana caught me so easily." She covered her face again in embarrassment.
Barbara laughed lightly. "Well, nothing escapes her Highness. But, Princess, I think you are very clear. Anyone paying attention could tell that you are in love."
Celine lifted her torso slightly, feeling Barbara's fingers pressing on the soles of her feet. "But even if everyone knew... he's the only one who doesn't understand. If it's that obvious, why is he the only one ignoring it?" She lay back again, staring at the ceiling.
Barbara: "I don't want to say it, but maybe he just doesn't know what to do, or he's shy, or he's simply bad at noticing." She dried Celine's feet from the oil.
Celine: "I think he's just bad at noticing. He doesn't stare at me... or maybe he simply doesn't feel the same." Frustration crept in, but Barbara quickly countered: "Are you kidding? Who in this empire isn't in love with you? You're the kindest, smartest, most understanding, most beautiful person I've ever met, and I'm sure even if it's not yet, he will fall the moment he talks to you or debates with you. I'm certain Lord Alaric isn't someone who falls just for beauty, Princess. He wants to talk to you; he's just very shy."
Barbara finished, placing her hands firmly on her hips. Celine smiled softly and laughed lightly at how Barbara had erased all the negative thoughts creeping into her mind.
Celine looked at the bouquet of purple anemones beside her mirror, the flowers she had always loved. But today, for the first time, she felt drawn to something different... something like the coldness and mystery of the North. She remembered Eliana's words about the Frost flower that blooms only in snow, and thought to herself:
"Perhaps it's time to love a flower that does not break in the wind, a flower with the strength to endure... just like he does."
_____________________________
With the last threads of sunlight gone, the palace awoke to a different kind of radiance. The candlelight filling the crystal chandeliers was not merely for illumination, but a tool to cast shadows. In the grand hall, the purple walls became borders for a mysterious world, where the scent of rare flowers mingled with the heavy aroma of royal incense.
At masked balls, masks were worn not only on faces but also woven from silk and contrived laughter. The brighter the candles shone, the deeper the shadows hiding behind the marble columns.
That night, the grand hall resembled an ocean of violet shadows, the lights of thousands of candles flickering in the crystal chandeliers like restless spirits. The chill in the corners was not from the capital's weather, but the familiar cold born of muffled whispers and glances exchanged behind velvet masks.
When the massive ivory doors opened, the music paused for a moment, as if time itself held its breath. Entrance was not merely a presence; it was an announcement. Eliana appeared in her golden gown, as if poured from the rays of the setting sun, shining fiercely against the hall's darkness, reminding everyone that she was still the sun around which the galaxy revolved.
Beside her, Celine looked like a pink dream woven from morning mist, crystals on her gown sparkling with every step as if dew had frozen in a magical instant.
They walked side by side: strength and beauty, authority and hope. But beneath the dazzling display, Eliana felt the weight of gold on her body. She continued to the center of the hall with Celine, and shortly after, the Emperor entered. Everyone bowed without exception, and he proceeded directly to his designated platform, raising a hand in greeting.
The music began to play again throughout the hall after the Emperor allowed Cassian's orchestra to start, with a faint smile on his lips.
As always, the first dance at every ball was the privilege of the Crown Princess. But since this ball was in her honor, that was reason enough.
Everyone expected Eliana to open the dance with one of the heirs of the great families, or perhaps with the top candidate, Sir Caius. Instead, she extended her gilded hand to the man standing beside her: Linus.
Linus was no ordinary man. Beyond his noble lineage, he was Eliana's secret shield, the presence that made her feel doubly safe.
It was more than a dance; it was a display of loyalty. They moved across the polished floor in harmony, like a sword with its sheath. Linus held her waist with care and respect, while their eyes exchanged silent messages understood by no one else in the hall. In that moment, Eliana was not merely a princess dancing; she was a leader demonstrating her power through the man who always stood in her shadow.
The dance began. Eliana moved in her heavy golden gown with astonishing lightness, as if it weighed nothing. Linus followed with remarkable coordination; every step measured to support her, every turn highlighting the golden shimmer under the candlelight. Their dance was not like the elaborate dances of nobles, but a precise, silent duel, firm and full of absolute confidence.
During one turn, Linus whispered in a voice only she could hear: "Breathe, Your Majesty." Eliana did not smile, but her tight jaw relaxed slightly, a glimmer of gratitude appearing in her eyes for the man who knew how to read her silence.
Linus's face reflected a mixture of pride and caution. His eyes scanned the hall like a military commander, even while dancing, watching the poisoned glances of the Draco family and the Emperor's cold expressions. He held her waist with skill, guiding her movements as if shielding her from prying eyes, turning the dance into a human shield around her.
With the final note of the music, they stopped in the exact center of the hall. Linus bowed once more before stepping behind her.
The hall remained silent, the air holding its breath until the polite applause for their stunning performance rose. Then, the other couples took to the floor.
As the hall's breath returned gradually after Eliana's majestic dance, Celine felt a sudden chill pierce the warmth of her pink gown. It was not the chill of the room, but that familiar aura that preceded the arrival of the northern man.
Through the elegantly dressed crowd of nobles, Alaric Stoneworth made his way with confident, deliberate steps, as if he belonged to another, darker world. Dressed in northern black adorned with luxurious fur and silver, he resembled a shadow approaching a pink dream. Celine stopped speaking to those around her, her heart drumming in her chest, cheeks flushing to match the color of her gown.
Alaric halted before Celine, his silence more eloquent than any musical introduction. He looked at her for a moment, as if trying to comprehend how one being could hold such fragility and beauty, then bowed quietly and spoke in his deep voice:
"Your Highness... your sister told me at the banquet that you were waiting to see the northern flowers. And since I have no flowers to present to you tonight, may I offer you a dance instead?"
Celine felt heat flood her face. Not only had Eliana exposed her, but she had also shared the secret with Alaric!
Gathering herself, she looked into his ash-gray eyes and said with a shy smile:
"Lord Alaric... it seems my sister likes to exaggerate a little. But I was indeed wondering whether northern men dance with the same skill they withstand storms."
A faint gleam appeared in Alaric's eyes, and the corners of his lips curved slightly as he extended his hand:
"Then allow me, Princess, to show you that we can do both."
Celine's face almost exploded, yet she tried to remain composed, feeling the enormity of his hand and strength against the delicacy of hers.
As the music began, Alaric's steps were careful, as if afraid to break something fragile in his grasp. The contrast between them was striking: he in his majestic northern black, she in her pink gown resembling a piece of colored clouds. Each time his hand touched her waist, the warmth of her hand penetrated his glove, leaving him flustered in a way unfamiliar even in training halls.
Celine whispered, looking down to avoid his gaze: "You dance well, Lord Alaric... I thought you'd be rougher."
He replied softly, his eyes watching hers carefully: "In the North, we learn that strength does not always mean violence; it also means the ability to protect what is precious. Dancing with you, Your Highness... requires a special kind of protection."
Celine lifted her eyes to meet his, realizing that the Frost flower she had been thinking of was not just a plant; it was this man before her, hard on the outside, but holding deep appreciation for beauty within.
In that moment, neither noticed the Emperor's gaze watching them from afar, nor Lord Draco's whispers as he smiled slyly, seeing the alliance of gold, pink, and the North forming before his eyes.
The music ended, and the dancers bowed to their partners. Alaric bowed to Celine and kissed the back of her right hand.
Celine did not want to withdraw her hand; the sensation of Alaric's lips, which she had expected to be rough, was unexpectedly soft.
She lightly bowed to him in return, then turned to sit beside her sister.
All eyes rose to the high royal balcony, where Emperor Cassius Sovana stood. He wore no coronation regalia, only his heavy imperial robe emblazoned with the crest of the ancient dynasty. In that moment, he seemed a living embodiment of the Empire's timeless grandeur.
The Emperor placed his hands on the edge of the marble railing and looked out over the crowd with a coldness that made whispers die in their throats. His deep voice echoed through the hall, strong and steady as a rock against crashing waves:
"Nobles, guardians of the Empire..."
Eliana smiled faintly at the opening words she hadn't expected him to deliver a speech at a celebration held in her honor, especially after yesterday's conversation.
The Emperor continued:
"We gather tonight to celebrate the victories of our borders, but true victory is not merely winning battles; it is preserving the roots from which this state has grown. Our strength did not come from swords alone, but from the ancient laws established by our ancestors a thousand years ago; laws that prevent chaos and maintain order."
Eliana nodded silently and solemnly. These were the principles she had waged wars for, and she believed completely that order was the only shield against fragmentation.
The Emperor's gaze swept over the crowd: "The laws have taught us that the throne is not the property of a single person; it is a trust carried by those chosen by law and blood."
Her heart pounded with pride, and for a moment, the chill that had lingered in the hall seemed to vanish. Her father, despite his previous sternness, had finally chosen to acknowledge her worth. She looked at him with the eyes of a proud daughter, waiting for the words that would change her life forever.
Hope shimmered in her eyes as it never had before. She clenched her fists at her sides, a surge of excitement coursing through her. Celine placed her hands gently on her sister's shoulder, as if to say, , then withdrew them slowly after Eliana smiled back.
It was clear: the long-awaited moment had arrived, and the next words would be the official declaration of her future as Empress.
The hall held its breath. Eliana's confident smile remained fixed on her father, waiting for him to speak her name and proclaim her Empress. Emperor Cassius looked at her with a smile, studying her features carefully as if committing them to memory.
And then, in a voice that shook the hall:
"So, by the ancient laws that grant the throne to the rightful heir... I present to you my legitimate successor, my son, who has returned to claim his place at the heart of the Empire..."
"Prince Kaian Sovana."
End of Chapter Three
