It is a quiet afternoon in the Queen's Chamber, a hall set apart for the king's consorts to hold counsel, draft decrees, oversee their duties, and receive guests of courtly import. Yet today, the air bears tension rather than calm.
Queen Ava, regal and deliberate in her wisdom, had tasked all three queens to draft a royal letter addressing the seasonal tribute sent from minor border lords to the capital. A matter simple enough, but Ava's intent was sharper than it appeared. She wished to see which queen wielded her words not only with elegance but with understanding of royal tone—who among them understood the weight of Velmora's voice.
All three queens sat alone in the chamber, their maids stationed outside, as protocol demanded. No interruptions. No help.
Aurora sat at the furthest end, her posture delicate but her brows creased in worry. Her ink pen hovered above the parchment. She blinked, once, then again—trying to steady herself. Her sleepless nights haunted her. But she would not disappoint Queen Ava. Not today.
Selene, seated in the middle, wore a gown stitched in crimson and gold. Her pen danced feverishly across the parchment. Every line she wrote dripped with determination—this was her moment to reclaim Ava's attention, to prove herself superior to the quiet, white-haired girl who had somehow become the talk of the palace.
And Virelda, poised and elegant, wrote slowly but steadily, every letter calculated, precise. She had lost too much already. The king's attention. The favor of the people. She would not lose Ava.
The silence was broken only by the scratch of quills.
When at last they were done, the door creaked open. Queen Ava's eldest maid, a grey-haired woman named Elyna, stepped in. She bowed deeply, collected the scrolls, and retreated without a word.
The silence that followed was unnatural.
Aurora began to rise from her seat, the ghost of exhaustion still clinging to her expression. She wanted to leave. She needed air.
But Selene's voice slithered through the quiet like a snake.
"Tell me, Aurora…" Her tone dripped honeyed mockery. "Where, pray, did you learn your letters? Was not your station in Elareth… rather beneath such learning?"
Aurora's step faltered. She expected something like this. That was why she had hoped to leave first. She chose silence, hoping to avoid a scene.
She took another step toward the door. But then came a voice she rarely heard.
Virelda.
"You were not planning to depart without answering Selene, were you?" Virelda said. Cool. Sharp. Venom laced but controlled. "That would be… unwise, Aurora. You would do well to mind your rank."
Aurora paused. She blinked once. Even Selene stilled. Surprise flickered across her face at Virelda's sudden shield.
What is this? Aurora thought. Are the two now united?
She turned slowly. Her reply came quiet. Steady. Measured.
"I learned from an older woman… in my childhood."
Selene let out a sharp laugh, scorn curling her lips.
"A servant woman, then," she mocked, waving a hand. "Let me divine it—she tutored you between the muck of stables and the task of gathering crusts from the feast tables."
Aurora's lips pressed together, but she said nothing. She simply bowed again, turned, and made for the door.
Selene's voice rang out behind her, sharp, jealous.
"You think you may simply walk away from me now?" Selene scoffed, stepping closer, gaze sharp.
"Is it because His Majesty lingers near you in your garden, as though you were some cherished treasure?"
Aurora froze. There it was. The root of it all.
Selene scoffed behind her. "He may grant you a seat beside him, yet do not mistake indulgence for worth. Remember your beginnings. Remember the woman who bore you—a whore. And you…" Her voice sharpened. "You walk the same path, wielding the same cunning around His Majesty. I know its lineage well."
Everything inside Aurora stopped. The word 'whore' rang like a crack across her spine.
Not again.
She turned slowly, head still bowed. "You may insult me, my lady," she said, voice low and trembling, "but not my mother."
Selene stepped closer, sneering. "Oh? And what then? Will you bow even deeper?"
Then her hand shot up, poised to strike.
But Aurora was ready.
Her hand shot out and caught Selene's wrist mid-air.
A gasp escaped Selene's lips—not just at the strength of the grip but at the defiance in Aurora's eyes. Then—
CRACK!
Aurora slapped her. Hard.
Selene staggered back two steps, one hand to her cheek. Red, glowing, stinging.
Even Virelda's eyes widened in surprise.
For a second, silence.
Then Selene lunged.
The two queens collided in a flurry of silk and snarls.
Aurora grabbed Selene by the hair and Selene shrieked, clawing at her face. The table overturned, ink bottles crashed to the floor. The door burst open as maids screamed from the hallway and rushed in.
"Your Majesty—please! Stop!"
Aurora's breath was wild, hair undone, lips bleeding slightly. Selene was worse off—her cheek scratched, her hair torn at the roots, her gown ripped at the shoulder.
Virelda's usually unreadable expression twitched into a smirk. She remained seated throughout, sipping from her goblet, watching them like entertainment.
The maids barely managed to pull them apart. Aurora, breathing hard, stepped back and folded her arms across her chest. Her face held a storm.
Selene tried to lunge again, but two servants held her back.
"You will regret this!" Selene screamed, struggling. "You peasant, you slave-born—"
"Enough!" a maid cried, tears in her eyes as she looked between them. "Enough please.."
The chamber was a mess. The scrolls forgotten. The table overturned. Silence returned, heavy and shameful.
Aurora said nothing. She straightened her hair, dusted off her gown, and walked out of the chamber with her maids behind her.
Selene, still furious, kicked over the fallen ink pot and yelled, "She touched me! She struck me! And you—" she pointed at Virelda, "you did nothing!"
Virelda leaned back, swirling the contents of her goblet. "Because it was delightful to watch."
-
Aurora sat at the edge of her bed, her hands trembling slightly as they clenched the soft fabric of her gown. The bruise on her cheek had faded, but the heaviness in her chest remained—far weightier than any physical wound. The chamber was quiet, save for the faint rustling of curtains swaying in the evening breeze, and the distant murmur of the palace winding down for the night.
Her maids had already tended to her, dabbing her scratches with oils and whispering words of comfort she barely heard. Now, they were gone, having sensed their mistress needed silence more than sympathy.
She drew her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as her eyes swept the chamber aimlessly. It was beautiful—grand and serene—but tonight it felt like a cage.
She had not meant for things to escalate like that.
I should not have raised my hand… I should not have let her get to me, she thought, pressing her forehead to her knees. The scene played again in her mind—the slap, Selene's scream, the way their maids had to tear them apart. She had never lost control like that before.
Aurora knew Selene's words were meant to provoke, to humiliate. And yes, she had endured far worse insults back in Elareth. But something about hearing her mother's name dragged through the dirt—again—ignited something too fierce to contain.
She sighed deeply. I should have walked away. I should have shown strength in silence.
She did not care much for what the queens thought of her, but she feared what Queen Ava might say... or worse, what King Aldric might think. Would he see her as just another impulsive, power-hungry queen?
The thought unsettled her.
And then, something even heavier crept into her thoughts: What if this changes everything? What if mother no longer trusts me?
The quiet honor she had been building—earned through restraint, not reaction—might now crumble in a single outburst.
She turned toward her window, the moon casting pale light across the chamber. Somewhere out there, villagers might still be speaking her name in gratitude. But in here, within these palace walls, she had just given Selene more reason to hate her—and Virelda more ammunition to use.
She sighs. "Whatever comes next, I will face it. I might regret the fight, but I will not regret defending my mother."
She closed her eyes slowly, letting out a steady breath, as if releasing the war within her for just a moment—just long enough to gather strength for tomorrow.