Princess Elmyra sat on the sofa with both feet barely touching the floor, her hands wrapped around a warm teacup.
The porcelain was smooth beneath her fingers, faintly warm, and she held it carefully—almost reverently—as if afraid it might vanish if she relaxed too much.
The room was calm.
Not the stiff, suffocating calm of a palace hall where silence was enforced by etiquette and expectation, but a living calm—filled with soft footsteps, the faint clink of porcelain against a saucer, and the gentle hum of comfort that Snowflake Mansion seemed to breathe naturally.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, painting the floor in soft gold. Somewhere deeper in the house, a clock ticked quietly, steady and unhurried.
Aster sat across from her, elbows resting lightly on his knees, his posture relaxed but attentive. Astra remained beside the princess, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed. Lea leaned against the wall, arms crossed, pretending not to stare while very obviously staring. Arlienne watched from a short distance away, her expression gentle—but alert in the way only a mother could be.
For a long moment, El simply looked at them.
At the room.
At the people.
At the way no one was watching her like she might break.
Then she spoke.
"You can call me El."
Her voice was quiet, almost shy—but firm enough to carry intention.
Astra blinked. "El?"
El nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of her lips. "That's what everyone close to me calls me."
Lea raised an eyebrow. "Everyone close to you?"
El hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.
"…Yes."
The pause said more than the word itself.
No one pressed her.
Aster inclined his head slightly, his silver eyes calm. "Then El it is."
The effect was immediate.
Her shoulders relaxed. The careful tension she had been holding since stepping into the mansion loosened, as if a string inside her chest had finally been untied.
"Thank you," she said softly.
◆ ◆ ◆
For a while, El drank her tea in silence, savoring the warmth as it spread through her fingers and into her chest.
She wasn't used to warmth like this.
Not the physical kind—palaces were always perfectly regulated—but the other kind. The kind that didn't ask anything of her.
Then, almost suddenly, she spoke again.
"I've listened to your songs for a long time."
Astra's eyes widened. "Really?"
El nodded quickly, as if afraid the moment might pass. "Since I was very little. Since your first album."
Arlienne looked genuinely surprised. "You heard them even back then?"
"Yes," El replied. "My sisters used to bring the recording stones back to the palace."
Astra stiffened slightly. "…They did?"
El nodded again. "They went to see you many times. They'd come back and talk about it."
She glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on the walls, the furniture, the small personal touches that made the mansion feel lived in.
"About how you sang," El continued. "About this place."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Arlienne.
"And about your mother."
Arlienne felt her chest tighten—but she smiled anyway.
"They always sounded so happy," El said softly. "I wanted to go too."
Astra's voice softened. "…But you didn't."
El shook her head slowly.
"I asked my mom," she said. "Many times."
The word mom fell between them quietly, heavier than it should have been.
"She always said no. Said it wasn't appropriate. That royalty shouldn't mix too freely."
Lea muttered under her breath, "That tracks."
El smiled weakly. "She said I could listen. Just not go."
Aster remained silent, his gaze steady on El—not judgmental, not pitying. Just present.
"And did you listen?" he asked.
El nodded eagerly. "Every album. I like the quieter songs best."
Astra smiled despite herself. "You have good taste."
El's face lit up instantly. "Really?"
"Yes," Astra laughed. "Those are the hardest to sing."
◆ ◆ ◆
As the conversation continued, something subtle changed.
El stopped sitting so straight.
Her back eased against the sofa.
Her hands relaxed around the teacup.
She swung her legs slightly, the tips of her shoes brushing against the edge of the cushion.
Lea pushed herself off the wall and walked over with a small plate. "Try this."
El accepted the pastry cautiously, as if it might be a trick, then took a careful bite.
Her eyes widened.
"It's good!"
Lea grinned. "Told you."
Aster watched the exchange quietly.
This wasn't a princess being entertained.
This was a child discovering comfort—one small, ordinary moment at a time.
El began asking questions, her voice growing more confident with each one.
"How long does it take to make an album?"
"Do you argue when you practice?"
"Does the mansion always smell like this?"
Astra laughed. "Like what?"
El thought for a moment.
"Warm," she said.
Astra froze for half a heartbeat.
Then she smiled.
◆ ◆ ◆
Eventually, El spoke again—this time more hesitantly.
"Today… my mom went out."
Arlienne's fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
"She left early," El continued. "A maid said she wouldn't be back until evening."
Aster felt a faint unease settle in his chest.
"That's when I asked again," El said. "If I could come see you."
She smiled nervously, twisting her fingers together. "No one was paying attention."
Lea groaned. "You snuck out."
El nodded. "I wore my cloak. I told the gatekeeper I was visiting the gardens."
Astra inhaled sharply. "El…"
"I know it was wrong," El said quickly. "But I really wanted to come."
Her voice grew quieter, more fragile.
"I wanted to see if the place from the songs was real."
Silence filled the room.
Astra moved without thinking, kneeling in front of her.
"It's real," she said softly. "And you're welcome here."
El's eyes shone.
◆ ◆ ◆
Time passed in small, gentle moments.
El helped Astra arrange sheet notes, even though she didn't understand them, carefully placing each page as instructed. She watched Aster tune a magic stone, fascinated by the way sound responded to his touch, humming faintly when aligned correctly.
She sat beside Arlienne and listened as Arlienne told stories—not about royalty or politics, but about childhood mistakes, scraped knees, and learning slowly instead of perfectly.
No one treated her like glass.
No one bowed.
No one corrected how she spoke.
At one point, El leaned against Astra without realizing it.
Astra didn't move.
◆ ◆ ◆
By mid-afternoon, the sunlight shifted through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
El yawned, covering her mouth quickly. "Sorry."
Astra noticed immediately. "You're tired."
El nodded reluctantly. "A little."
Aster stood. "We should take you back before it gets late."
El's shoulders slumped, but she nodded. "Okay."
Arlienne clapped her hands softly. "I'll have a carriage prepared. Quietly."
Within minutes, a discreet carriage waited outside.
El stood near the door, hesitating.
"…Can I come again?" she asked.
Astra smiled. "Anytime."
Aster nodded. "Just tell us first."
El giggled.
She hugged Astra tightly, then surprised Aster by hugging him too.
He froze—then gently rested a hand on her head.
"Take care," he said.
"I will," El replied.
◆ ◆ ◆
The carriage rolled away in the mid-afternoon sun.
"She made it back safely," a guard reported shortly after. "The palace gates acknowledged her return."
Astra exhaled in relief.
Snowflake Mansion felt quieter after she left.
But warmer too.
As if something small and fragile had been trusted to them—
And returned safely.
◆ ◆ ◆
The palace gates closed behind the carriage with a soft, final thud.
El stepped down carefully, smoothing her dress as she entered the familiar marble hallway. The echoes of her footsteps felt louder than usual, each one reminding her—
She was back.
Back where she had to be careful.
She had barely taken a few steps when a voice cut through the hall.
"Elmyra."
El froze.
Her mother stood near the center of the corridor, posture straight, crimson hair perfectly arranged, eyes sharp and assessing.
The queen had already returned.
Earlier than expected.
El's fingers curled slightly at her sides.
"…Mother," she said softly.
The queen's gaze moved over her—checking her appearance, her posture, the faint traces of warmth still lingering in her expression.
"Where did you go?" the queen asked.
The question was calm.
Too calm.
El swallowed.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Then, very quietly, she answered.
"I… I only went to see clothes," El said. "There was a shop near the inner district."
The lie felt heavy on her tongue.
Her voice wavered despite her effort to steady it.
The queen studied her without blinking.
Then she turned her gaze to the man standing a step behind El.
"You," the queen said coldly. "Did she go to a clothing store?"
The bodyguard stiffened.
"If you lie to me," the queen continued, her voice dropping, "you will lose your position. And you know what that means."
The man clenched his fists.
"…Your Majesty," he said finally, bowing deeply. "I escorted the princess… to Snowflake Mansion."
The words echoed through the hall.
The queen went still.
Slowly, she turned back toward El.
El stood there, small against the vast corridor, her hands trembling slightly as she looked up at her mother.
The warmth from earlier was gone.
Only fear remained.
The queen's expression hardened.
So that was where she had gone.
So that was who had welcomed her.
And now—
The queen took a single step forward.
El instinctively stepped back.
And the distance between mother and daughter felt wider than the palace itself.