The festivities dragged on. Music, hushed laughter, and conspiratorial whispers filled the hall long after the wine had lost all its taste. The chandeliers dimmed, their flames flickering as drafts slipped through the towering vaults.
Elena danced, smiled, exchanged hollow words with strangers who saw her only as a promise of alliance. She played her role to the end, until the night stretched into a suffocating eternity.
Hours passed before she was finally allowed to return to her chambers.
The palace corridors stretched before her, empty and silent under the flickering torchlight. The marble walls, adorned with deep blue tapestries, seemed to watch her, still and impassive, like sentinels frozen in time.
She walked slowly, each step echoing on the polished floor, but her mind raced in all directions.
Tomorrow, she would be engaged to a man she had never met, bound to a fate she had never chosen.
She felt the cage close a little tighter around her, each heartbeat marking an invisible countdown. A shiver ran down her spine.
She placed her hand on the door handle, eager to shut herself away, if only for a few hours, away from prying eyes. But just as she was about to enter, a cold voice cut through the silence, freezing her in place.
— Queen Isabella: "You didn't even try to hide your unease tonight."
The blonde-haired princess stiffened. She didn't need to turn around to know who stood behind her: Queen Isabella.
The rustling of velvet accompanied her mother's measured approach, each step calculated, controlled. When the sovereign stopped beside her, the trembling torchlight revealed her severe face, framed by dark curls pulled into a flawless chignon. Her expression was as unyielding as the marble walls frozen in glacial neutrality.
Only her eyes spoke. Sharp, piercing. A blade drawn in the shadows.
Elena forced herself to take a deep breath before answering, her voice more hesitant than she would have liked.
— Elena: "I… I'm simply not used to the idea yet."
A heavy silence fell between them. Then, the Queen stepped closer, closing the space between them like a tightening snare.
— Queen Isabella: "It is not about getting used to it. It is about understanding your duty." Her voice was measured, relentless.
A slow-burning anger rose within Elena, insidious and smoldering. That word again: Duty. As if her entire existence could be summed up by it. As if she were nothing more than an instrument for a greater cause, without thoughts, without desires, without a voice.
She lifted her gaze, her deep blue eyes locking onto her mother's with a boldness she hadn't known she possessed.
— Elena: "My duty? Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be married off? A piece on your chessboard?"
Her throat was tight, but she did not look away.
For a moment, there was only silence between them. Then, an almost imperceptible smile brushed the Queen's lips. A smile devoid of warmth.
— Queen Isabella: "A pawn?" she murmured, almost amused.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze growing even sharper.
— Queen Isabella: "No, Elena. You are much more than a pawn."
She paused, letting her words settle into the heavy air of the corridor.
— Queen Isabella: "You are a queen in the making. And queens do not complain about their fate. They embrace it. They understand that their lives are not their own."
Elena felt her breath catch in her chest. The Queen lifted her chin slightly, regarding her with icy intensity.
— Queen Isabella: "You think you are a prisoner?"
She stepped closer, closing the distance between them to a mere breath.
— Queen Isabella: "But you are not shackled, Elena. You are what holds the kingdom together. This marriage is your responsibility. Your duty. And I will not allow you to forget that."
The princess wanted to respond, to shout, to say no, that she had never asked to be this. That she wanted to exist for herself. But no words came. There was nothing to say because her mother would never listen.
Because to Queen Isabella, a daughter's desires were irrelevant when a kingdom was at stake.
The sovereign studied Elena one last time before stepping back, her silhouette once again an imposing shadow under the flickering torchlight.
— Queen Isabella: "Sleep well. Tomorrow, you must be perfect."
Then she walked away, leaving behind an even heavier silence.
Elena stood motionless before her door, her heart pounding. The walls seemed to close in around her.
And for the first time, she understood with terrifying clarity: It wasn't just a marriage being forced upon her. It was the end of everything she could have been.
She remained frozen before the door, her gaze lost in the intricate carvings of the wood. Her breath was shallow, her thoughts in chaos.
Behind her, the palace corridor had returned to its sepulchral silence, as if the Queen's presence had been nothing more than a mirage. Yet, her mother's words still echoed within her, resonating with the weight of an unbreakable decree.
"A queen in the making." "Queens do not complain about their fate."
Her fingers trembled as she gripped the handle. Finally, she entered and closed the door behind her, leaning against the heavy wood in an instinctive gesture, as if its solid presence could shield her from the inevitable. A sigh escaped her lips, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing down on her chest.
Her room was spacious, almost too vast. A prison disguised as a sanctuary.
The walls were draped in midnight blue tapestries, embroidered with silver, matching the corridor's decor. Thick carpets muffled the sound of her steps. In the hearth, flames flickered softly, casting trembling shadows across the frescoed ceiling.
A light breeze slipped through the slightly open window, making the silk curtains ripple like silent specters. The scent of melted wax and lavender lingered in the air, a familiar, comforting fragrance. But tonight, it failed to soothe her.
She turned away, slowly moving toward the center of the room. Her legs felt heavy, each step weighing on her as if she were walking toward her own execution.
The burden of tomorrow pressed down on her. Tomorrow, she would be engaged. Tomorrow, she would play her role to perfection, just as was expected of her. And the day after… The day after, she would be nothing more than a memory of what she could have been.
Her gaze drifted into the dimness of the chamber. Everything here was a testament to the refinement expected of a princess.
Her mahogany desk, where she wrote only letters dictated by protocol.
Her ivory vanity, where every morning, foreign hands sculpted her appearance as one shapes a statue.
Her wardrobe, overflowing with opulent gowns, each chosen to serve a purpose, never to match her desires.
Everything was perfect. Everything was suffocating.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. The world saw her as a privileged young woman, a future queen destined for greatness. They praised her grace, her impeccable education, the glorious alliance she was about to forge. But no one saw the truth.
She was not a princess. She was a prisoner.
Her cage was woven from silk and velvet, but that did not make it any less oppressive.
She stepped toward the window, resting her hands on the cold stone ledge. The night stretched before her, vast and endless. In the distance, beyond the royal gardens cloaked in shadow, the village lights shimmered like fallen stars. She envied them, those nameless people, without titles, without riches, but free. They could choose where to go, whom to love, how to live.
And she, Elena of Valoria, born a princess and destined to be queen, did not even have the right to refuse a cup of wine at a banquet.
She closed her eyes, letting the night wind caress her face, lifting a few loose strands from her undone chignon.
She wished she could disappear. To fade into the darkness, to break free from the weight of her name, her blood.
But she could not run.
Not yet. One day, perhaps.
But tomorrow, she had to smile. Tomorrow, she had to be perfect.
Because a queen does not complain. A queen endures. And she was born to be a queen.
❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥
The
♥
Twilight
Kiss
♥
❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥
As Elena twirled beneath the glittering
A quiet knock at the door pulled Elena from her thoughts.
She flinched slightly, torn from the silent storm raging in her mind. For a second, she hesitated. Was it her mother again? Had she come to ensure she would not waver, that no rebellious thoughts had taken root within her?
But the voice she heard was much softer, more fragile.
— ???: "Your Highness?"
Anna.
A thin sigh escaped Elena's lips as she straightened slightly.
— Elena: "Enter."
The door opened with a muted rustle, revealing her lady-in-waiting.
Anna was a slender young woman with delicate features and long brown hair, carefully braided. She wore a modest gown, as always, impeccably fitted, a mark of her position at court. But behind this discreet appearance, her gaze betrayed something else: unwavering loyalty, a sincere devotion.
— Anna: "Your Highness… are you well?" she murmured, closing the door behind her.
A simple question, yet so heavy.
Elena averted her gaze, watching the flickering candlelight on the ivory vanity. She did not answer immediately. For a moment, she wanted to tell the truth, to lay bare everything weighing on her heart, everything consuming her. But what would be the point?
So, she forced a smile, one that never reached her eyes.
— Elena: "Perfectly well. After all, tomorrow will be a glorious day, won't it?"
The lie burned her throat like poison.
Anna did not move. She stood there, eyes fixed on the princess with that quiet pain that set her apart from the other courtiers. Unlike them, she saw beyond appearances, beyond the masks Elena was forced to wear every day.
She stepped closer, her fingers tightening on the fabric of her skirt.
— Anna: "You don't have to lie to me, Princess."
The blonde princess closed her eyes for a moment. That simple admission, the mere fact of hearing someone remind her that she could be something other than a puppet, hurt even more. A wave of emotion threatened to swallow her whole, a storm she refused to let break free. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was harder, colder.
— Elena: "And what am I supposed to do, Anna? Run away?"
The thought was there, lurking in a corner of her mind insidious, burning, dangerous.
She had considered it more than once in the past hours. She had thought about it while dancing, under the gaze of nobles who saw her as nothing more than a chess piece. She had thought about it when she met her mother's impassive eyes. She had thought about it while feeling the invisible weight of the chains that bound her.
But running… Where would she go?
Every road, every town, every path was watched. She was the princess of Valoria, betrothed to Prince Adrian. Her face was known everywhere.
She harbored no illusions. She would be found. She would be dragged back. And the punishment would be severe for her and for anyone who had helped her.
Anna lowered her head, pressing her lips together as if battling her own thoughts.
— Elena: "There must be another way…" she whispered.
Elena stared at her. Another way. The words echoed within her like a distant promise, a fragile hope refusing to be extinguished.
But what way?
The door to her chamber was closed, yet she could still hear the murmur of the ball, the hushed conversations, the laughter tinged with hypocrisy. She could almost feel the weight of her mother's gaze that silent warning reminding her of her role, her duty, her fate.
And if she failed? If she tried to escape and the price was too high?
— Elena: "If I leave, they will suspect you immediately."
Anna's head snapped up, her eyes widening in shock.
— Anna: "Me? But… I would never let you go alone!"
Elena's heart clenched. Anna didn't understand. She couldn't understand.
She was willing to help her; she would do so without hesitation. But she had no idea of the consequences, of the cruelty of those who ruled this kingdom.
— Elena: "They will make you talk, Anna."
Elena's voice was softer now, almost a whisper.
— Elena: "You don't know the Queen like I do. She doesn't need torture. She will know. She only has to look into your eyes. And then…"
She stopped. She did not want to imagine the rest.
Anna swallowed, visibly shaken.
— Anna: "Then… then what?"
The blue-eyed princess did not answer immediately. She turned toward the window, toward the night stretching beyond the palace walls, beyond the gardens, toward the unknown.
— Elena: "She will not tolerate betrayal. She will make an example of you."
The words fell like a death sentence.
Anna stepped back, hands trembling.
She knew Elena was not lying.
— Anna: "But then… what can you do?" she murmured.
Elena took a deep breath. She did not know yet. But that night, as silence cloaked the palace, one certainty settled within her. She had to find a way to escape this fate.
And if running was not an immediate option, then she had to pretend, bend to expectations, let them believe she accepted her fate, play the role they had written for her… until the moment she could break free.
She turned back to Anna, who still looked shaken.
— Elena: "Promise me something, Anna."
The young woman nodded hesitantly.
— Elena: "Don't do anything reckless. Don't let me drag you into my rebellion… Not yet."
Anna opened her mouth to protest, but Elena's gaze silenced her. A long moment passed before the servant finally lowered her eyes and nodded.
— Anna: "Very well… But if ever… if ever a real chance arises, you know I will be there."
— Elena: "I know."
A sad smile tugged at the princess's lips.
That night, Elena did not sleep. Anxiety kept her awake.