The rain fell silently.
Fog enveloped the high balcony of the palace, resembling a shroud of grief that lingered on endlessly.
Below, the rose garden, once the site of Fitran and Sheena's dances, now lay still, as if mourning an unspoken farewell.
No birds. No wind.
Only a heavy silence existed, enveloping every corner of the kingdom like a dark veil that covered the once warm days.
The news arrived before dawn, bringing with it the shadows of sorrow that pierced the soul.
The entire Elyndra royal family—uncles, aunts, and Sheena's cousins—were found missing under circumstances shrouded in mystery. The royal investigators eventually uncovered that they had been transformed into golden dust, trapped in the basement as if engaged in an ancient ritual to reclaim a long-standing curse of gold, prompting the investigators to delve deeper into the dark and tumultuous history of the family.
Rumors circulated about the cursed pact.
Yet, fear shrouded the kingdom, raising questions about what had truly occurred behind the palace's thick walls.
Sheena stood in the palace hall, wearing a white dress. Her eyes were vacant, as if her soul was trapped in a labyrinth of sorrow with no exit.
Fitran was by her side, holding her hand tightly, as if lending her the strength that had faded from her life.
"Sheena..." he whispered, his voice trembling in the suffocating silence.
Sheena remained motionless, shrouded in a cloak of sorrow that seemed to heal her soul.
"Why? Why am I the only one left?" Her question echoed, creating ripples of unease among the shadows that watched from afar.
Fitran glanced at the advisors standing behind them, each face resembling stone, as unyielding as the very throne of the kingdom. They were the supporting pillars of an institution now teetering on the edge of darkness.
The nobles of Elyndra bowed their heads, appearing like a crown that had fallen from a king's brow. Unease hung in the air, while the shadows of familial tragedy cloaked the hall.
"Your Majesty..." one of them, Lord Grenneth, spoke softly, his voice trembling like the wind carried by a storm, "according to Elyndra's law, you are the sole legitimate heir to the royal bloodline when all hope seems lost, and the entire foundation of power is threatened to crumble."
Sheena bit her lip, recalling how the drops of blood were supposed to flow in joy; now, that blood flowed slowly in prolonged sorrow, leaving a profound mark of anguish in her heart, as if it lingered with no hope of recovery.
"I do not want... to be a queen due to death," she said, her voice weak, reflecting her indescribable shattered feelings.
Fitran embraced her shoulders, offering warmth as the world outside felt like ice. "You did not choose this. But the world has chosen you," he whispered, burdened by the weight of an obligation that was not his to bear.
Sheena shook her head, her eyes shining like stars obscured by dark clouds. "I just want to be a wife, not a queen," she exclaimed, her voice filled with longing, as if her dreams soared like a bird trapped in a gilded cage, experienced yet hindered from true love.
Grenneth's voice echoed in the silent courtroom, creating a tense atmosphere that bore down on every heart present; within the walls thick with echoes of history, it felt as if the ancient stones were listening intently, aware of the heavy burden of this decision and the delicate balance between love and duty.
Sheena Stands Before All
Sheena stood at the stone podium.
Her eyes surveyed the people and the nobles.
"I do not want this crown," she declared, her voice ringing out with an echo of defiance that contrasted sharply with the somber atmosphere surrounding her.
"I do not wish to be a symbol of the world again, a symbol tied to power that torments the soul and robs happiness."
"I only want to be a woman who chooses her love."
Among the people, there were whispers filled with sympathy, while the nobles remained silent, trapped in helplessness. At that moment, as Sheena's heart spoke, she felt the heavy weight of responsibility pressing down on her, like a colossal burden trapped within her chest.
She stared at Fitran, who stood before the crowd.
"But I know... if I refuse, my people will lose their place of refuge."
In a flash of thought, images of chaos and war filled the empty space in her heart, as if portraying how her family honor was truly bound to this decision. The shadows of the past always loomed, in sync with the unease that would not dissipate.
She clenched her fists.
"Then I do not choose the crown. I choose my people."
As if the echoes of her choice resonated with every corner of the room, reminding everyone of the often-overlooked meaning of love in the world of power. "I accept the title of Queen."
The Coronation
The ancient golden crown, passed down from the Elyndra family, was presented before Sheena; shards of light from the crown sparkled, as if holding tales of thousands of years, intertwining stories of love and sacrifice, power and sorrow.
Fitran approached with steady steps, his sharp gaze revealing a deep sense of worry, much like waves disturbing the tranquil sea.
"Sheena," he called softly, his voice steady but filled with underlying concern, creating a thread of connection amidst the turmoil around them.
Sheena looked at him with her violet eyes, now shining with determination, yet behind that light lay doubt, as if each glimmer wanted to speak of a heart torn in two.
"If you reject me... I will understand."
Fitran furrowed his brow. Each word felt heavier, as if carrying the weight of unspoken responsibilities.
"I never chose you for your position."
He took the crown from the advisor's hand and crowned Sheena himself. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, preserving both beauty and sorrow. The stunning crown ultimately became a symbol of all that would be lost.
"To me... you will always be Sheena, the one who picks roses in the garden. Not a queen."
Teardrops fell down Sheena's cheeks. Each drop told the story of unfulfilled hopes, a happiness erased by the inevitable demands of royal fate.
As Night Fell
In Sheena's private chamber—now the queen's chamber—Sheena sat on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window. Outside, the night sky seemed to create a curtain of farewell, concealing the stars that shone just out of reach. A gentle breeze whispered through, carrying with it the murmurs of hope and longing.
Fitran stood at the door. He sensed the weight of the atmosphere, as though uncertainty enveloped them like a thick fog.
Sheena spoke without turning. "I... I'm not ready to start a family."
Fitran moved closer, sitting beside her; he wanted to offer support, but words felt blocked by the complexity of unexpressed emotions, like the tension before an approaching storm.
"I know."
"I... I want to, but..."
She grasped Fitran's hand. In that touch, a sense of understanding intertwined, even as they were trapped in the harsh and cruel game of fate.
"Before everything feels 'perfect,' I'm afraid. If I bring new life... I'm afraid the world will demand me again..."
Sheena repeated, "I... I'm not ready to start a family."
Fitran moved closer, sitting beside her. A deep yearning enveloped the atmosphere, as if the sky outside the chamber signaled their unfulfilled dreams.
"I know."
"I... I want to, but..."
She held Fitran's hand tightly, trying to find strength amidst the problems looming over them. The shadow of a grim fate made each second feel heavier, like a crown pressing down on her head.
"Before everything feels 'perfect,' I'm afraid. If I bring new life into this world... I'm afraid the world will demand from me again, demand from our child."
Outside the window, royal attendants moved quickly, their whispered voices filled with the intrigue and secrets saturating the palace. Fitran pulled Sheena into his arms, offering calm amidst the turmoil that threatened to overwhelm them.
"We don't need to rush."
Sheena looked into his face, her lips trembling, as if every word spoken could become a brick in the wall separating hope from reality. Could their love break through all these barriers?
But I'm afraid, Fitran; if I wait too long... I will lose that moment.
Fitran smiled. A smile that seemed full of hope, yet beneath it lay the anxiety of a king continuously battling the shadows of political issues that threatened their kingdom, a silent war draining his spirit.
"You have lost family. You will not lose me."
He kissed Sheena's forehead, conveying a heavy, unspoken promise. In that moment, Sheena felt as if a grace from above shielded them from all sorrow.
"When you're ready. Not when the world demands it."
As Fitran slept, Sheena sat in the chair by the window, gazing at the dimly shining full moon, like hope trapped in a sea of sorrow and uncertainty.
The full moon shone dimly.
"I choose my will."
"I choose my people."
"But deep in my heart..."
"I want to be selfish just this once."
"I want to hold him, not as a queen. But as a woman who wants to be a lover."
Her tears fell slowly. Each drop symbolized the fading hopes, depicting the aspirations that should have blossomed in love and peace, yet now overwhelmed by the darkness of palace intrigues that destroyed everything, making her long for the days that had passed.
"I will create a world where I can choose time itself."
Sheena slowly stood, her steps almost silent on the cold marble floor. She approached the bed, looking at Fitran who slept peacefully—his face had always been the anchor amidst the storms of her life. Although the palace was bathed in the moonlight, a gloomy atmosphere filled with a sense of loss hung in the air, reminding everyone of the sorrow reigning in the hearts of the palace's inhabitants.
However, this night, that peace is not enough. In her heart, Sheena feels the weight of her responsibility as a future leader. The tension within the threatened kingdom is boiling over, and her soul longs for the freedom to love without burdens.
Sheena gently touched Fitran's shoulder, her voice barely a whisper, "Fitran…" as her emotions threatened to spill over.
Fitran instantly woke up, sensing the heaviness in her voice. He sat up, his eyes searching for Sheena's face in the dim moonlight. "What's wrong?"
Sheena could not answer. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. She fell to her knees beside the bed, her hands reaching for Fitran's waist.
"I've been strong in front of everyone... in front of the nobles, in front of the people... but I..."
Outside the window, the night wind carried whispers of a touching narrative, describing the crowd celebrating the inevitable political causality. Pigeons flew aimlessly, as if being silent witnesses to the uncertainty that loomed over the palace. Sheena's voice turned into a sob, broken and sorrowful, like the sound of wind sweeping across the mountains, "I can't be strong alone, Fitran."
Fitran immediately wrapped her in his arms, allowing Sheena to lean her entire body and soul against him. For the first time since that tragedy, Sheena allowed herself to break down completely, sobbing into Fitran's shoulder, her body trembling as the walls she built to contain her grief finally crumbled.
Memories of the past, the warm reminiscences of royal celebrations, shadowed her mind, with smiles etched on the faces of every guest. "They all... Uncle, Aunt, my cousins... I can still hear their laughter in the hall, I remember when they gave me flowers as a child... Now there is no one left."
Fitran gently stroked her hair, allowing her tears to flow freely. "I am here. I will not leave."
In an instant, the grand image of the palace seemed to wither, along with the destruction of that happiness. "I'm afraid I will lose you too."
"You will not." Fitran kissed the crown of her head gently, "Together, we will create a world where love does not equate to loss, where hope continues to shine even through the darkest nights."
Their embrace bore witness to that night, creating a safe space amid the turmoil they faced.
This was not merely between a queen and her lover,
But between a woman who had lost her entire family...
And a man who vowed to become her new family.