The wind rushed through the open arches of Astéria's palace, lifting silk curtains and making the flames of the torches dance along the walls. At the top of the tallest tower, where only the kingdom's elite were allowed to walk, a young woman stood frozen before the starry horizon: Princess Elena.
She stood tall beneath the pale glow of the moon, her gaze lost in the infinity of the night sky. Her silhouette seemed almost unreal under the silver light caressing her delicate, porcelain-like skin. Long blonde hair, as luminous as golden wheat beneath the summer sun, cascaded down her back in soft waves, swaying slightly in the night breeze. It framed a face of sculpted perfection, where every curve seemed to have been shaped with divine precision. But it was her eyes that captured attention: a pure, crystalline blue, reminiscent of the deepest waters, reflecting oceans of emotions she struggled to conceal.
She was adorned as befit a future queen. Her bodice, finely embroidered with golden threads and delicate pearls, hugged her figure with studied elegance. The fabric was a celestial blue, reminiscent of clear summer dawns, and each movement made the hand-sewn gems shimmer. The skirt of her gown, as light as a breeze, cascaded in silky waves to the floor, gliding over the white marble like a silent current. Draped over her shoulders was a cloak of fine velvet, fastened with a silver clasp bearing the royal emblem: a lily encircled by a crown.
Everything about her exuded grace, wealth, and perfection.
Yet, while her garments glittered with splendor, her heart was drowning in darkness.
Beneath the illusion of a fairy tale, she felt empty, like a precious doll locked inside a golden display case. Her corset, though exquisitely embroidered, felt suffocating. Her gown, despite its softness, weighed on her like invisible chains. Each shining gemstone stitched into the fabric was a fragment of her fate fixed, unchangeable.
She could have been the brightest star in Astéria's sky. Yet, in this moment, she felt extinguished.
Her gaze drifted toward the slumbering city below. Hundreds of lanterns still flickered in the noble quarters, where lavish nighttime banquets were in full swing. Further away, the darker streets of the lower town stretched out like a maze of alleys and tangled rooftops, a world she only knew from the whispers of servants, from the tales of travelers who spoke of bustling markets and the dangers of nameless streets.
A world that seemed more alive than the gilded cage trapping her.
She tightened her grip on the stone railing, feeling the cold bite her fingers.
Tomorrow, she would be betrothed.
The courtiers would cheer, the nobles would toast to her happiness. Poets would sing the glory of this alliance, and her mother, Queen Isabella, would finally have what she desired: a perfect union between the crown of Astéria and that of the neighboring kingdom.
But in this carefully orchestrated perfection, Elena was suffocating.
Since childhood, she had known that marriage would never be a matter of love. Love was a fantasy for peasants, a luxury for those who had no kingdom to rule. Her role had always been clear: serve the dynasty, wed a man of noble blood, bear heirs, and ensure the throne's continuity.
And yet…
A void had grown within her, a widening fracture she could no longer ignore.
She did not want this fate. But what did she truly want?
A soft noise behind her pulled her from her thoughts.
__Queen Isabella: "You should be in bed, my daughter."
Elena stiffened. She did not need to turn around to recognize that voice: cold, measured, undeniable.
Queen Isabella stepped forward, her midnight-blue velvet gown gliding soundlessly across the floor. She always wore dark colors, a mark of her unwavering authority, and her piercing gaze left no room for weakness.
The princess inhaled deeply before turning to face her.
—Elena: "Mother… what if I don't want this marriage?"
A heavy silence filled the room. Only the wind dared to whisper between the columns.
The Queen arched a single brow, as if the question itself were an absurdity.
Then, she smiled, slowly. Painfully.
—Queen Isabella: "This is not about what you want. It is about duty."
Elena felt her stomach knot. That word again. Always that invisible prison tightening around her.
— Elena: "And if I refuse?" she whispered.
Her mother stopped just before her, placing an icy hand under her chin, tilting her face up so their eyes met.
— Queen Isabella: "Then I will break you until you are worthy of your throne."
Elena's breath caught in her chest. She knew her mother never made empty threats.
She knew what "break" meant. Months locked away in a tower, never seeing daylight. Forced isolation. Deprivation. The slow erasure of her identity until she was nothing but a shadow of obedience, a perfect puppet.
She knew.
And yet, the thought of surrendering to this life felt even more unbearable.
The Queen released her chin and turned away, as if the matter had already been settled. As if Elena's voice no longer mattered.
—Queen Isabella: "Rest. It will be a beautiful day."
She left the room without a sound, closing the door behind her with a gentleness that felt almost insulting.
Elena remained motionless, fighting against the tremble in her hands.
She turned back to the window. The night sky stretched vast and endless, scattered with shimmering stars. They seemed to whisper a secret. A hope. A promise.
And yet, reality struck her soon enough.
Nothing and no one could save her from her tragic fate.