The morning was peaceful, servants moving quietly through their chores. It remained so—until one leaned toward another and whispered,
"Did you hear? The white-haired queen has been moved to the East Wing."
The other gasped. And just like that, the news began to spread—from one servant to another, slipping through corridors and stairways.
By the time word reached the Queen's Quarters, that Aurora had been moved to the East Wing, a chill swept through the hearts of the other wives.
Selene's Quarters...
The crash of a shattered perfume bottle echoed through Selene's chamber.
"She what?" she snapped at her servant, eyes flaring with disbelief.
The servant stood frozen. "T-The king has had Queen Aurora moved, Your Majesty… to the East Wing."
Selene whirled around, her hair tumbling down her back, fury sharp in every breath.
"That is His Majesty's wing. His quarters. The Bloodline Wing," she spat. "It is where his parents lived. Where his bloodline was forged. His chosen place."
She stepped back, trying to breathe, her fingers trembling.
"No queen has lived there since he ascended the throne… not even Virelda!" Her voice cracked.
"She is a slave girl. She does not belong in the East Wing—she belongs in the stables."
Her servant kept her gaze low, but her silence screamed louder than words.
Selene turned to the mirror and stared at her own reflection. Painted lips. Lined eyes. Draped in velvet. Perfect, trained, royal. Still… not chosen.
And not once had she ever crossed the threshold of the East Wing.
Virelda's Quarters...…
Virelda did not shout. She did not scream.
When the news reached her ears, she simply set her teacup down gently and looked out her window. The soft wind moved the curtains.
"Aurora," she whispered.
The name burned in her mouth like wine turned bitter.
The East Wing was sacred. Once belonging to King Velric's first queen, it had been sealed when she died. Everyone knew only the king—or his blood—could sleep there.
And now it was given to a white-haired girl from the outer provinces… a girl born of a servant.
Virelda rose and crossed to her wardrobe, fingers gliding over silks and embroidered gowns as she inspected her dresses.
Her maid—the only one who dared speak when her mood turned cold—asked quietly, "Shall I bring out the red gown?"
"No," Virelda replied. "I'll wear blue. Let us not pretend I am trying to compete."
The words were calm. Icy.
They began to dress her—every pin set with care, every jewel placed just so. Yet as her bracelet was fastened, the hand that secured it trembled, ever so slightly.
"Have her moved close… and His Majesty will only fall deeper." she added bitterly.
She looked at herself in the mirror—poised, perfect, polished. And yet the reflection looked back, full of warning.
Outside Aurora's New Quarters...…
That evening, as servants bustled in and out of the East Wing adjusting to the queen's new residence, the halls were tense. Everyone knew what the move meant, even if no one dared say it aloud.
Aurora had been brought closer. Closer than the others. And the palace... was watching.
-
Selene paced her chamber like a storm waiting to break. Her eyes were bloodshot from jealousy that consumed her every thought.
"She must be using witchcraft," she hissed to herself. "That is why he sleeps near her. That is why he moved her to the East Wing."
She flung open her wardrobe, brushing past rows of silk and velvet.
"Dress me in the gold one," she told her servants. "The one with the Elven embroidery. Today, I am going to see His Majesty."
Her servants obeyed, though they exchanged uneasy glances. The last time she went uninvited to the king, she had returned in tears.
When Selene was finally ready—gleaming like the sun but carrying a storm inside—she headed for the throne wing.
I will not beg. I will not weep. I will remind him that I am the daughter of his war commander—the one who waited, the one who stood by him. Let Aurora be moved into the wing beside his bedchamber. I will not be erased.
Her thoughts burned like fire, relentless and consuming.
-
Unlike Selene, Virelda did not storm. She glided.
She dressed in the softest blue silk and summoned her most refined grace. Today, she wasn't competing with Aurora—she was going to claim her place above her, without lifting a single threat.
She sent word to the royal steward, asking for a private breakfast with the king—not in his chamber, but in the royal garden.
A formal move. A political one.
One a wife of rank could easily request.
She smiled as she penned the message herself, and added a line at the bottom in her neat, practiced handwriting:
"It has been long since I shared the morning sun with His Majesty."
She sealed it with her queen's insignia, gold wax pressed with the emblem of her late father's sword—the same sword Aldric once held at the age of seventeen, covered in her father's blood.
If Aldric had truly given his peace to Aurora, Virelda would test it. Not with seduction, but with legacy.
Meanwhile... in Aurora's New Chamber
Aurora sat quietly in her now-lavish quarters, watching the evening light spill across her marbled floor.
Her white gown shimmered faintly in the sun, and the silver-blue embroidery across her sleeve made her look like she had stepped out of a winter tale.
But her mind wasn't resting. She knew something had shifted when she was moved to the East Wing. She knew what it meant.
Not just to the palace. But to Selene. To Virelda. To every watchful eye in Velmora.
Her maids brushed her hair gently, humming an old Elareth lullaby, unaware of her tightening chest.
One of them leaned closer, whispering near her ear, "Your Majesty… I hear the other queens are restless. Both of them."
Aurora didn't flinch. She only nodded.
She knew this would only deepen their hatred for her. She sighed, heavy with the weight of what was to come, her chest tightening with unease.
-
The marble floors of Velmora's inner court gleamed like still water as Selene approached the throne wing.
Two guards straightened at the sound of her heels and bowed deeply.
"Her Majesty Queen Selene," one of them announced.
Selene gave a short nod, heart pounding beneath her gold-trimmed gown. The closer she got to Aldric's doors, the colder her hands became.
She had rehearsed what she would say. Calm. Poised. Powerful.
But this was Aldric—the man she had been married to for four years, yet had never truly touched.
The man who commanded without raising his voice.
A servant opened the heavy door to the chamber. She stepped in quietly.
Aldric sat behind a polished table near the tall arched window, dressed in his customary royal robes, sleeves neatly folded at his forearms. He did not look up immediately.
Her footsteps halted near the middle of the chamber. "Your Majesty…"
Only then did Aldric look up. Grey eyes met hers. Still. Silent.
She bowed deeply. "Forgive me for coming without summons."
A moment passed. Aldric set the scroll he had been holding gently on the table.
"Selene, what do you want?" His voice was calm… but carried weight.
Selene steadied herself. "I-I only came to see His Majesty… and to remind you that, should anything trouble your mind or heart, you may find solace in your queen."
A flicker passed through Aldric's eyes—one that said he had heard words like these before. Too many times.
He didn't answer.
Selene took a cautious step closer, voice softer now. "We were chosen for you… given to you to stand by you. If she—"
Aldric's head tilted. "If who?"
Selene's breath caught.
He didn't raise his voice.
But she felt it—the warning in his stillness.
"I meant no disrespect," she said quickly, bowing again. "Forgive me."
Aldric rose slowly from his seat. The full force of his presence filled the room, and Selene instinctively lowered her gaze.
When he spoke again, his voice was low, even—but final.
"I see everything, Selene. What you think you hide from me is no secret. And if I decide peace lies in the company of one queen… you are not to question it."
Selene's heart sank.
One queen.
Not three.
One.
She nodded, voice small. "Yes, Your Majesty."
He stepped past her without another word, pausing only to say to the guards, "Escort Queen Selene back to her quarters."
She did not protest. She did not dare. Yet everything she could not say seared in her chest.
As the doors shut behind her, Selene's eyes welled, not from the sting of humiliation—but from the bitter truth she now saw too clearly:
Aldric was slipping away from her—and into someone else's quiet storm.
As she walked a few steps from the king's quarters, she barked at her servants, "Have you not discovered the gift Aurora gave His Majesty?"
All of them shrank back, nodding shakily.
"All of you are useless! USELESS!!" She yelled.
She continued her furious walk, and her servants followed quietly, careful not to draw her ire.
-
The sun filtered gently into the king's private terrace, where breakfast had been set in quiet elegance. Polished silver trays steamed with fresh bread, honeyed meats, and sweet herbal tea imported from the Eastern ports.
The guards bowed as Virelda arrived, escorted by two handmaidens who promptly stepped aside once they reached the final arch.
She had come not in grandeur but in grace—dressed in soft blue silks that whispered as she moved, her dark curls woven with pearl pins.
Aldric was already seated at the stone-carved table, a scroll in one hand, his other slowly tracing the rim of a goblet. He didn't look up.
"Your Majesty," she greeted, bowing deeply.
"Virelda," he replied plainly, his eyes still on the parchment.
She took her seat without waiting to be told—not out of disrespect, but because she was confident enough in her place to know he wouldn't rebuke her.
Breakfast was quiet at first. Virelda poured his tea, carefully.
"You've grown thinner, Your Majesty," she said softly, lifting her own cup. "Did the last journey wear you down more than expected?"
"I'm fine," Aldric replied with a small smile, answering without meeting her gaze.
"You never sleep well during the week of your birthday. Yet this time, you appear… rested."
Aldric's eyes flicked up at her. Just for a second.
Virelda noticed. She always noticed.
She tilted her head slightly, placing a warm roll on his plate. "We are your wives, Your Majesty. Not ornaments. We were given to ease your burdens. Yet you do not allow us near. Not really."
Silence.
Then Aldric tore the bread and took a bite.
She smiled slowly. "I wonder if one among us has finally done what the rest of us could not."
His chewing slowed.
Virelda leaned in slightly, lashes lowered. "The palace is already whispering… that Your Majesty sleeps like a child in her presence."
"Enough."
The word came like a blade slicing through the morning stillness.
Virelda froze.
Aldric set down his goblet and met her gaze. "Do not test my patience."
Her lips parted, then pressed shut again.
She nodded once.
But in her mind, she was already rewriting the script.
So… he protects her now.
He sleeps in her presence. Yet he has not claimed her publicly. Not yet.
And that meant one thing: Aurora is untouchable.
"Forgive me Your Majesty," Virelda said softly, reaching for a honeyed fig. "I only wished to say… you deserve rest. Whoever gives you that—may they be honored."
Aldric did not respond.
The meal went on in silence, the weight of unspoken things thick in the air.
When Virelda rose to leave, she bowed low again, more deeply than usual.
As she turned to go, Aldric's voice followed her.
"Do not provoke her."
She paused. His tone was still calm, but it vibrated with warning.
"I will not repeat it." He added.
Virelda turn. She bowed and simply said, "Yes, Your Majesty."
Then walked away—her stomach burning with the bitter taste of defeat she'd never imagined swallowing.
Later that day.....
In the quiet of his chamber, Aldric sat alone. The soft breeze drifted through the arched windows, but he hardly noticed. His gaze rested on the pendant.
Small. Simple. Yet... it weighed more than gold.
He held it between his fingers, staring at the delicate markings Aurora had carved into it. Something so personal, so handmade—and yet more powerful than the gold bricks Selene had brought or the flawless music Virelda played.
He did not understand why it stayed on his mind. But it did.
Carefully, Aldric slipped the pendant over his head and tucked it beneath his tunic, close to his skin—close to where the noise in his mind used to scream.
No one needed to know. Not even her.
But still... he wore it.