Twenty-two years ago, when our current king was still a young prince, he was caught in a brutal struggle for the throne—competing against his four full siblings and three half-siblings. Amid this chaos, he took a daring step: he led a war against Vessenia, our neighboring kingdom, which had long been our bitter rival during that era. He did so without a single great Marquess by his side.
Only the loyal knights, minor Marquesses, and the prince himself stood on the battlefield, fighting with fearless hearts. Yet, the battle was lost. Most of the troops perished, and those who returned were gravely wounded. The prince vanished in the aftermath. His body was never discovered, and he did not return. All believed him dead.
**But then—**a year later—he returned. Alive. Changed. And with him, a bold proposal to end the war that had plagued both kingdoms for decades: he offered his hand in marriage to the second daughter of the King of Vessenia.
The first daughter—well-known and already married—had long been expected to inherit the throne. But the second daughter—quiet, often ill, and rarely seen—was still unmarried despite being well past the usual age, while the prince had just returned from a year presumed dead.
To everyone's astonishment, the King of Vessenia accepted the offer.
The war ended with that union. And for his unmatched courage, sacrifice, and wisdom, the former king chose his fourth son—Prince Avaric—as the rightful heir to the throne.
"…told the young girl with eyes the color of carved garnet and a mane of crimson-red hair, her simple gown damp from the dew-covered grass. She sat cross-legged beneath a flowering tree in the garden behind the mansion, a worn book resting in her hands, reading to the children of the maids.
The garden stirred gently in the morning breeze. Vines clung lazily to the stone walls, birds chirped from hidden branches, and sunlight filtered in broken lines through shifting leaves. It was peaceful here—away from polished floors, locked doors, and cold words.
"Wow! The King was so brave!" exclaimed one of the children, a boy missing a front tooth.
"But where did he go? What did he do in that whole year?" asked a little girl with two neat braids.
"Yeah!" the other children chimed in, nodding eagerly.
Veralyn gave them a soft smile and said:
"Well, just like you, everyone else was curious—some even suspicious—of the prince when he returned. So they demanded to know everything: what he saw, where he had been, and what happened during that lost year.
The prince answered that after the battle, he had been gravely wounded. He tried to escape through the forest but lost too much blood and fainted. When he woke up, he was lying in a small cottage. People from Vessenia had found him in the woods and, thinking he was just a lost hunter, rescued him.
It took him months to recover. During that time, he began learning about the kingdom that had once been his enemy—talking to borderland villagers and hearing their stories. He eventually heard about the second princess of Vessenia—how she was often sick, and how difficult it was to find a suitor for her due to her fragile health.-" she was interrupted
"My lady! Why are you sitting on the ground? You're not even using a carpet! Agh, who would believe you're the daughter of this mansion's owner?" scolded the maid, her face flushed red as she hurried toward her.
"My father is the Baron, not me. And this isn't the first time I've done this, Alena," Veralyn replied, rolling her eyes.
"Exactly! That's why I'm mad." Alena grabbed Veralyn's arm, tugging her to her feet. "The Lady of the Mansion is calling for you!"
Veralyn stood up quickly. Her heart skipped. "You should've said that first!" she snapped, brushing off her dress and rushing toward the back door to enter the mansion.
"But my lady, what about the story?" all the children cried in unison as Veralyn clutched the book to her chest.
Before she could answer, Alena's sharp voice cut in. "Oh, please! Give me a break—you all have heard it a hundred times already."
The children groaned in disappointment as Alena and Veralyn continued toward the door.
Inside the stone halls of the mansion, the air grew colder. The laughter of the garden was muffled by thick curtains and heavier silence. On the ground floor, just beside the maids' chambers, was Veralyn's small room.
In Veralyn's Room:
"It's always this old story," Alena said, pulling open the wardrobe doors and inspecting the limited selection inside. "It's so lame that just to get rid of their sick princess they agreed to end decades of rivalry."
"Nah... it was not just for the sake of the sick princess," Veralyn replied, unfastening the ties of her dress, "but for the great mines of our kingdom. Vessenia needed to make a mine trade with a neighboring kingdom. Trading with faraway lands is costly—too much tax, too many risks. If two strong kingdoms could join, they'd form great power, mutual support."
She slipped on the fresh dress as Alena helped her tie the back.
"And once the fighting was over—no more bloodshed, no more damage to the border or to the economy. No need to train new soldiers every season or waste resources on strategies and spies."
"Huh. So... it wasn't that lame after all. Nobles are so cunning."
Alena scoffed. "Still feels like selling their princess."
"Well," Veralyn sighed, adjusting the sleeves, "sometimes peace comes with a price. And I'm a noble too even tho I'm adopted. My mother was a pure nobel."
"My Lady is the best, you are far better than your those so called step siblings. So immature and rude like their mother." Said Alena while brushing Veralyn's hair gently.
"But the Youngest is still a kid might turn out to be better?" Asked Veralyn with hope in her her heart.
"It will be a blessing else the fruit don't fall far from the tree." Answered Alena.
With a final tug on the fabric and a quick comb through her wind-tossed hair, she was ready. Or at least, she looked it.
Outside, the cold corridors stretched endlessly as they headed toward the Lady of the Mansion—the woman who never called unless she had something sharp to say.
Facing the Lady of the Mansion was never easy.
While marching towards the Lady of the Mansion's Room on the second floor.
"Facing her again," Veralyn muttered as they walked, "makes me want to trip and fall down the stairs."
"She's the Lady of the Mansion," Alena said bitterly. "But I still say she doesn't deserve that title."
Veralyn sighed. "What do you think she wants this time?"
Alena glanced sideways. "Your grandmother must be coming."
Veralyn's brows shot up. "She is?"
"She always comes just to see you. Brings you gifts worth more than the whole pantry—but of course, the Lady always finds a reason to take them."
Veralyn gave a tired laugh. "She's not my mother, but she sure plays the villain well."
"Keep your voice down, or you'll be polishing floors till sunrise."
They turned the final corner of the grand staircase.
Behind them, the sound of wind in the garden slowly faded.