The kingdom of Solenne had always been known for its grandeur. Under Queen Arleth's rule, its borders expanded, its coffers overflowed with riches, and its court was synonymous with elegance and wisdom. Arleth was adored by the people, revered as a benevolent leader, and her image had become a symbol of stability. However, the queen's sudden death shook not only the nobility but the entire kingdom. A void opened, a wound that only the heir, Princess Elysia, could fill. The problem, though, was that Elysia was nothing like her mother — and had no desire to be.
From childhood, Elysia felt the crushing weight of expectations. Arleth's shadow followed her everywhere, as if every one of her actions was compared to the queen’s unattainable perfection. There was no room for fragility, for mistakes, or for the desires of a young woman. The throne had always been a sentence, an inevitable imposition that suffocated Elysia's true nature. What few knew was that behind her façade of the flawless princess lay a tormented mind, corroded by wounds that grew like weeds.
Among these wounds, one stood out: Rowan, the former court advisor and the man she had desperately loved. Rowan, with his refined manners and eloquent speeches, had captured Elysia’s heart in her early years at court. Their romance had been intense, a secret hidden in the shadows of the castle’s corridors. But what began as a burning flame quickly turned to ashes. Rowan left her abruptly, without clear explanations, marrying Elara, an ambitious and influential duchess. For Elysia, it was more than rejection — it was a betrayal that scarred her soul. She never managed to forget the pain of abandonment, the venom of disappointment.
Now, with Arleth’s death, Elysia inherited a power she had never wanted but was now ready to wield as a weapon.
The sky over Solenne was heavy with dark clouds, as if the very heavens reflected the kingdom’s deep mourning. Queen Arleth’s funeral procession moved through the cobblestone streets, followed by thousands of silent citizens. Elysia, now dressed entirely in black, walked at the front of the procession, her face impassive, her eyes hollow. Each step felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Not because of her mother’s loss, but because of the burden that finally fell on her shoulders.
She felt the gazes of the crowd, the nobles, and even the court advisors, but none of it mattered. Her attention was fixed on only one figure among all those present: Rowan. He stood a few meters behind, beside his wife, Elara, the Duchess of Eronis. Both appeared wrapped in an aura of solemnity, their heads slightly bowed in respect for the deceased queen. But Elysia knew that such an expression was a mask. To her, Rowan was nothing more than a traitor, someone who had abandoned the kingdom of her heart for a convenient marriage, for ambition.
As the carriage carrying Arleth’s body passed in front of the cathedral, Elysia allowed her gaze to linger on Rowan a moment longer. A chill ran down her spine, but not from sadness — from pure hatred. Her mother was dead, and with her went the last chains that had restrained Elysia. Now, nothing prevented her from using the power she had been granted. Revenge was taking shape in her mind, growing between increasingly dark thoughts.
“The pain of loss is nothing compared to the bitter taste of betrayal,” she murmured to herself, her lips barely moving.
The coronation was held with all the pomp and grandeur expected of a royal succession. The great hall of the castle was filled with aristocrats and foreign dignitaries. The nobles crowded into the side balconies, observing every detail, every gesture. The advisors' words echoed through the marble walls, offering empty praises to the new queen and promises of eternal loyalty.
Elysia, seated on the throne for the first time, tried to hide her growing disinterest. The scepter in her hand felt cold, heavy, and the crown on her head tightened like a chain. What many saw as a symbol of power and responsibility was, to her, nothing but a tool. The advisors’ voices blended into an indistinct murmur. Until a figure approached the throne. Rowan.
He walked with the same confidence that always accompanied him, his gaze serene, as if all the chaos around him didn’t affect him. He stopped before the queen, and instead of kneeling like the others, he made a discreet bow, causing a wave of whispers to spread through the hall. The tension in the air was palpable.
“My queen,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I am at your service, as I was at your mother’s.”
The light touch of his hand on Elysia’s shoulder reignited bitter memories. He moved away before she could respond, but the damage was done. It was as if Rowan had planted a thorn in her skin, a wound she would never allow to heal.
“Now I am the power, Rowan,” Elysia thought, her eyes fixed on his back as he walked away. “And you will taste every drop of the poison you gave me.”
When night finally fell and the lights of the hall went out, Elysia withdrew to her chambers, where darkness enveloped her like a cloak. Her room, now adorned with the symbols of royalty, felt both familiar and strange. But it was in this solitary environment that she could, for the first time, let her true self emerge.
Still holding the scepter, Elysia sat in a chair near the fireplace. The warmth of the flames heated her, but also rekindled her desire for vengeance. Rowan had built a brilliant career at court. His reputation, titles, and influence protected him — but not for long. She would tear down every wall that surrounded him, starting with the place he felt safest: the royal council.
The next morning, she summoned Lord Darius, a council member and long-time rival of Rowan. The meeting took place in secret, away from the prying eyes of the court. Darius, with his political cunning, knew exactly what Elysia wanted.
“I need someone who can play the political game as well as I do... or perhaps even better,” Elysia said bluntly, her eyes fixed on Darius, evaluating every move of the man before her.
Darius smiled, perfectly understanding what this alliance meant. He had always known Rowan would have enemies, but he never expected the queen herself to be the greatest of them.
“Then, my queen,” he replied with a theatrical bow, “let the game begin.”
The royal hall was colder than usual. The meetings of the royal council, once marked by strategic discussions about the kingdom’s future, were now a silent battlefield, where treacherous alliances and whispered conspiracies dominated the space. At the center of this web was Elysia, watching everything from her elevated throne with a calculating expression.
With the secret alliance of Darius at her side, Elysia began weaving her web. Manipulating the council members wasn’t difficult, given the ambitions of many. She created situations where Rowan’s failures became inevitable. Decisions that would have previously gone unnoticed were now elevated to public scandal, and minor hesitations were seen as signs of disloyalty. The latest blow came when an important negotiation with the neighboring kingdom of Valoria was sabotaged — intentionally, by Elysia and Darius — but all evidence pointed to Rowan as the one responsible.
The council meeting was at its peak of tension. Rowan stood before the throne, surrounded by other advisors who looked at him with suspicion. His eyes, usually calm and serene, were filled with restrained fury.
“Your Majesty,” Rowan began, his voice firm but loaded with indignation, “I have always been loyal to the Crown, just as I was to your mother before you.”
The hall fell silent. Everyone awaited the queen’s response. Elysia, seated regally on the throne, leaned forward slightly, her fingers idly playing with the scepter she held.
“Loyalty?” she responded with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Remind me, Rowan, which Crown?”
The words cut like a blade. She knew she didn’t need to say anything more; enough had already been sown. Doubt hung in the air, and the rest of the council began murmuring among themselves. Each advisor exchanged suspicious glances, as if trying to decide which side to take. Rowan remained silent, his gaze fixed on Elysia. He realized, more than ever, that she was orchestrating something much bigger. She didn’t just want to question his loyalty — she wanted to destroy him completely.
Later that night, Rowan felt the need to confront Elysia. The walls were closing in around him, and if he didn’t do something, everything he had built would collapse. He knew where to find her: the royal garden, the same place where, years before, they walked hand in hand, planning a future together.
The full moon illuminated the stone paths, and the cool breeze carried the scent of flowers. The setting was almost idyllic, but Rowan knew the tranquility of this place was about to be shattered. He found Elysia there, standing by one of the marble fountains, her eyes lost in the water’s reflection. For a moment, he hesitated. Was the woman before him still the same Elysia he had known years ago? Or had the crown transformed her soul into something unrecognizable?
He took a few steps forward, breaking the silence.
“You’re destroying me, Elysia,” he said, his voice low but filled with pain. “Why are you doing this? What happened to you?”
She didn’t turn immediately. She remained silent for a few seconds, her eyes still fixed on the water.
“You never understood me, Rowan,” she finally murmured, her voice cold but with a shadow of sadness. When she turned to face him, the moonlight shone in her eyes, making them appear almost silver. “I don’t forgive. And I will never forget what you did.”
He shook his head, unable to hide his frustration.
“Elysia, what happened between us... was years ago. I made a mistake, but this... this isn’t a political vendetta. This is personal.”
She stepped forward, her face now just inches from his. Rowan could see the bitterness etched in every line of her expression.
“Of course it’s personal,” she whispered sharply. “You abandoned me, humiliated me, and now... you will pay for every second of pain you caused me.”
Rowan searched for any trace of compassion in her eyes, but all he found was a wall of resentment. He realized, with a knot in his stomach, that there was nothing he could do to change what was coming next.
As Elysia consolidated her vengeance against Rowan, she knew that merely destroying his reputation wouldn’t be enough. The queen needed to destabilize the one thing that still kept Rowan steady: his marriage to Elara. The Duchess of Eronis was a powerful figure at court, with deep connections among the nobles and strategic alliances. However, Elysia knew that the kingdom thrived on rumors. And in a court like Solenne’s, rumors were dangerous weapons.
Elysia planted the seed of distrust. She spread rumors that Elara, dissatisfied with Elysia’s rule, was involved in a conspiracy to overthrow her and take the throne. The nobles, always eager to protect their own interests, began to distance themselves from Elara, fearing the consequences of potential betrayal. The duchess, who once paraded through the court with confidence, now found closed doors and suspicious glances.
The final blow came when Elara, disoriented and furious, confronted Rowan in their quarters. Her eyes were red from crying, her hands trembling with rage.
“You were supposed to protect me!” she cried, her voice breaking with anguish. “That queen destroyed my life over something that happened years ago! And you, you let her do it!”
Rowan stood in silence, his mind still processing what was happening. He wanted to calm her, but he knew there was a painful truth in her words. Elysia was destroying him, and Elara was paying the price.
“You still love her, don’t you?” Elara whispered, her voice filled with desperation. “She’s destroying us because you still belong to her.”
Rowan tried to reach for her, but Elara pulled away, her gaze full of hurt. In that moment, he realized the true extent of Elysia’s hatred. She wasn’t just destroying his reputation — she was tearing apart everything he loved, until there was nothing left.
And, for the first time, Rowan tasted the bitter sting of defeat.
The great throne hall of Solenne, once vibrant with life and acclaim, was now shrouded in oppressive silence. Elysia, sitting alone on the throne she had longed for, felt the unbearable weight of the crown on her head. The bright gold that once symbolized power and authority now seemed like a prison. Her plan, meticulously crafted, had come to fruition. Rowan, who had once been her lover and her betrayer, was disgraced, reduced to a shadow of the man he once was. His wife, Elara, ruined and humiliated, had left the court in disgrace, and his allies, once numerous, had distanced themselves.
But as Elysia advanced in her revenge, something began to break inside her. The sweet taste of victory had turned into an unbearable emptiness. The throne, which for so long had represented her liberation and her chance for vengeance, now seemed to isolate Elysia from everyone. The court, which once bowed to her with false smiles and empty promises, now murmured behind her back. The people, who once hailed her as the heir to the great Queen Arleth, now began to see something very different in her. Cruelty. Coldness. A dark echo of tyranny.
Darius, her accomplice in political maneuvers, seemed to be everywhere at once. Elysia realized too late that he had also been playing his own game. Subtly, Darius was consolidating his influence, forming secret alliances and gaining the favor of advisors who once answered only to the queen. Every step Darius took was carefully calculated, and Elysia watched, with growing unease, as he waited for the right moment to betray her.
In the silence of her throne, the image of her mother, Arleth, haunted her mind. The benevolent queen who had built a kingdom of prosperity now seemed to condemn her with her gaze. Arleth would never have allowed power to corrupt her soul. But Elysia, driven by resentment, had destroyed everything her mother had built.
“I am queen,” Elysia whispered to herself, her voice almost breaking. “But there is no one left to rule.”
The shadows in the hall seemed to close in around her, while the distant sound of revolts echoed through the kingdom’s streets. She was alone — hated, feared, and, deep down, defeated.
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