I was Princess Seraphina, the most revered royal in all of Eldoria. They whispered that whoever won the Princess's hand would claim the throne. Yet, three years ago, I was abducted and subjected to unspeakable horrors, left to be defiled in the shadowed alleyways of the city’s underbelly. Stripped of my honor, I became a pariah, whispered about by all. When everyone shunned me, only Lord Arthur, a brilliant scholar who had risen from humble beginnings, bravely sought my hand in marriage. For three years, our union bloomed with harmony. He ascended to become the unchallenged King of Eldoria. But then, one day, he brought a woman from outside the palace walls. From that moment on, his nights were spent in her chambers. He adored her, indulged her every whim, allowing her to tear apart the winter roses in my garden—our special token of affection—and even letting her deliberately cause the death of our unborn child. When my hope in him finally withered, and I entrusted my shattered heart to another, he knelt before me, begging me to return, vowing he wished to spend an eternity by my side. 1 It was the Midwinter Festival of Lights, and Sunstone Palace blazed with vibrant candlelight, alive with joyous revelry. Only my chambers remained eerily silent, cloaked in a chilling sorrow. In Eldoria, there was a cherished tradition during the Midwinter Festival: lovers would release wish lanterns together, seeking a lifetime of togetherness, a bond that would last until their hair turned white. Yet, for two years, I had pleaded with Arthur, and each year he had offered excuses, claiming affairs of state. I never knew if these were genuine duties, or simply his reluctance to share a future with me. I forced a bitter laugh, picking at a cold, greasy dish. The food tasted like ash in my mouth, leaving only a bitter aftertaste. Tears welled in my eyes, large drops falling relentlessly, refusing to be stopped. Suddenly, a pair of small, soft hands gently cupped my face, tenderly wiping away my tears. The words spilled from his lips, still forming clumsily, yet he tried his best to comfort me. "Mama... why cry? Is it… because Papa didn’t… come to be with Mama?" "Don't cry... Lionel's here, don't cry." Perhaps it was, or perhaps it wasn't. Arthur had not visited my royal chambers since his coronation. In the beginning, I used to gaze at the threshold daily, yearning for his arrival. When he didn't come, I would always feel a profound sadness, secretly wiping away my tears. But as the days turned into weeks, and disappointment accumulated, I suppose such things no longer caused me grief. Yet, looking at Lionel’s innocent face, I didn't know how to answer. I simply found an excuse to deflect his innocent question. "Sweet Lionel, Mama isn't sad. Mama is just thinking how wonderful it would be if Mama's own Papa and Mama were still here." At least, then, my chambers wouldn't be so desolate during the holidays. 2 Forcing a smile, I looked at Lionel and asked if he wanted to go outside with Mama and release some wish lanterns. If I couldn't secure a lifetime with Arthur, then I would at least pray for Lionel to live a long, safe life, free from harm. He laughed and agreed, saying he also wanted a large candied apple on a stick from outside. He said it was the first gift Papa had ever given him, and it was so delicious. I tightened the smile on my lips, stroking Lionel’s head. It was just a trifle Arthur had casually tossed to Lionel, yet my son had cherished it as a precious treasure, remembering it to this day. Sometimes I couldn't comprehend it: how could Arthur be so distant, so seemingly indifferent to Lionel? Lost in thought, my hand was suddenly tugged by Lionel. He shouted "Papa!" loudly, but his voice was swallowed by the bustling crowd's joyous clamor. Following Lionel’s gaze, I looked up. With just one glance, I was rooted to the spot, unable to move a single step. On the Midwinter Festival of Lights, by the banks of the River Eldrin, Arthur held a stunning beauty in his arms, kneeling to release a wish lantern. For a moment, I felt a dizzying disorientation. So, Arthur wasn't ignorant of Eldoria's customs; he had always been intimately familiar with them. It was simply that the person he wished to spend a lifetime with was not me. Lionel was still pointing and calling out for his Papa. I reached out and covered his eyes, muttering repeatedly, He's mistaken, he's mistaken, that's not Papa. But my heart felt as if it were being torn apart. My thickest fur-lined cloak couldn't ward off the biting cold; in that instant, I felt chilled to the bone. The past three years of harmonious companionship replayed in my mind, my brain stalled. I even began to question if all that affection had merely been a performance by Arthur. Tears fell endlessly, melting the snow on the ground, and carving deep, gaping holes in my heart. That Midwinter Festival, I couldn't make my wish, nor could I pray for Lionel to live a long, safe life. As he sat in the carriage, licking his candied apple, he asked if that had truly been Papa. I merely gave a bitter smile, my face growing rigid, my voice edged with a sob I didn't even notice. "No... not Papa. Your Papa is burdened by affairs of state... he has no time to come out." Burdened by affairs of state? Even I didn't believe those words, a hint of guilt in my voice, yet I instinctively found excuses for him. Back in my royal chambers, the food on the table was long cold. All of it was Arthur's favorite dishes, but he hadn't come. His favorite dishes, naturally, remained untouched. I looked at the congealed grease on the food and felt a wave of nausea. From ancient times, kings were often described as passionate, dashing, with a court filled with beauties. Yet, Arthur had once held my hand and sworn that he would devote himself to me alone, never to stray. Alas, the dreams of youth, once vibrant, now felt like faded tapestries. 3 I extinguished the candles. In the pitch-black chambers, I sat with my eyes wide open, staring until they ached. I finally understood what my father, King Theron, had once told me: he said that in this world, I could command all, turn clouds into rain, but only matters of the heart remained truly untamed. In the empty room, only my laughter echoed, but it was tinged with a profound loneliness. After much restraint, I could no longer hold back. I rose, put on the fur-lined cloak Arthur had given me, and went to his royal chambers. The palace grounds were deserted. As I walked, the moonlight painted long, stark shadows before me, cold and desolate. It took a long while to reach the entrance of Arthur’s royal chambers. Grand red banners with dragon emblems lit the entire wing, and the sounds of joyous laughter and merriment filled the air. From a distance, I heard a woman’s delicate laughter. Just as I was about to push the door open, a royal steward at the entrance barred my way. His face was timid, his lips trembling as he whispered something. I couldn't hear clearly, only vaguely understanding that Arthur had forbidden my entry. Suddenly, a wave of bitter amusement washed over me. The queen, wedded with ten miles of red silk, publicly acknowledged, couldn't even step into her husband’s chambers? A rebellious fire surged within me. I pulled the jeweled comb from my hair, letting it fall to the ground with a soft clink, then curled my lips into a chilling smile and strode inside. Within the chambers, Arthur was embracing the woman on a plush couch, a picture of marital bliss. But the moment he saw me, the smile in Arthur’s eyes imperceptibly faded. He spoke, a hint of rebuke in his voice. "Why are you here? I thought I told you to remain outside..." His tone of reproach was painfully obvious; even a fool could hear it. He was blaming me, blaming me for ruining his mood, for interrupting his pleasure. I sat on the chaise lounge, picking up a teacup, the bracelets on my wrist jingling softly. I stared directly into his eyes, speaking each word distinctly. "And if I hadn't come? If I hadn't, I might never have known you've adopted a new little songbird in the palace." My words were laced with a smile, though they were directed at him, my eyes remained fixed on the woman in his embrace. I watched her frown, then hide deeper in Arthur’s arms. Her timid, delicate demeanor, so common, utterly displeased me. I merely lowered my gaze, observing her grand red gown. "Not everyone in the palace is permitted to wear red. You should find something else to wear. A gown of scarlet is too ostentatious, and it hardly suits your head, unadorned by jewels." Before I could even speak more harshly, her eyes filled with tears, on the verge of falling, making her appear pitiful. When she spoke to Arthur, her voice was choked with a heavy sob. "My King, I didn't know... I didn't know I couldn't wear red... Is she despising my humble attire?" "I knew it, a lonely orphan like me, I shouldn't have come here..." Interesting. I narrowed my eyes, watching her performance. But to my surprise, Arthur fell for it completely. He held her close, soothing her, and then frowned at me. "Seraphina... Isolde has always been fond of red. What harm is there in letting her wear it? Moreover, she was my loyal companion before my rise to power. By lineage, she was the first to claim my hand." 4 The smile on my face suddenly froze, my mind as sluggish as a broken clock. My voice, when it emerged, was rusty as I savored those words, repeating them over and over. "Isolde... Isolde." "Arthur, you tricked me... You deceived me so cruelly." My eyes were red-rimmed, and the moment the tears began to fall, I turned away, leaving Arthur only my back. Stepping outside, the biting cold wind was like a flaying blade, slicing at my face again and again. I felt no pain, only a heavy suffocating sensation in my chest, and my vision blurred with unshed tears. When Lionel was born, Arthur only came to see him once, and casually gave him his name. I still remembered Arthur saying that day, "To truly be a great King, one must have a heart as vast as the oceans, encompassing all the people." I suddenly wanted to ask him: that day, when he saw Lionel, still an infant in swaddling clothes, did he truly intend to entrust this kingdom to him? Or was there a selfish motive, using our child to reminisce about his commoner companion? Commoner companion. Commoner companion. It turned out that for three years, I had been the thief. I had stolen the identity of Arthur’s true love. All those vows of "a lifetime of togetherness," they were all lies, all falsehoods... I stumbled back to my royal chambers. Lionel was sleeping soundly on the couch, his chubby face still muttering "Mama." I suddenly regretted bringing him into this world. His father did not love me, nor did he love him. The child of Princess Seraphina should not suffer such a fate. Large tears dripped, soaking the bed, and carving scar after scar in my heart. I thought to myself that the woman in Arthur’s arms was not a docile soul; there would surely be endless troubles ahead. If Arthur still held even a fraction of affection for me, my situation in the palace might be tolerable. But if that affection was gone, then it would be a bitter dream, ending in a desolate and impoverished existence. Just as I feared, as dawn barely broke, Arthur’s royal decree arrived at my chambers. He had broken his vows, and forgotten the promises made before my father’s throne. He declared that a King's vow was worth its weight in gold, and abandoning his faithful companion after achieving power would invite ridicule from the world. He urged me to be reasonable, not to force him into an impossible position. He also claimed he was thinking of me: I would retain the Queen's dignity, while Isolde, though lesser in rank, would reside in the West Wing. In the palace, status could be divided into noble and humble, but Arthur, in love, the unloved one is always the humble one. The humble, and the heartbroken. Alas, Arthur’s words were too perfectly phrased, leaving me no room to rage or protest. I could only watch, humiliated, as Isolde appeared with jeweled combs in her hair and a grand red gown. 5 The West Wing blazed with lights, vibrant and bustling. My ladies-in-waiting whispered that Arthur, out of pity for Isolde, was granting her a grand and rightful wedding, a public display of her importance. Amidst the sounds of music and laughter, tears welled in my eyes. I could only stare blankly at the ceiling, at the broken nest of doves in the rafters. I suddenly remembered a time, when I was pregnant with Lionel, Arthur had come to my chambers to see me, holding my hand, telling me the doves outside had little fledglings, insisting that I come see them. That day, beneath the dove’s nest, those words, out of place yet poignant, came to mind. "Like the doves upon the rafters, may we ever meet again." Alas, alas, the dove's nest was broken, the doves would not return, and Arthur's love had soured, tasting bitter. As tears fell, Lionel tugged at my gown, smiling as he stood on tiptoe, offering me something. I knelt to see, and in his hand was a piece of sweet caramel. "Mama, eat. Candy is sweet. If you eat it, you won't cry anymore." I put the candy in my mouth, forcing a smile as I asked him where he got it. He pointed towards the West Wing, laughing, saying it was from the chambers with the grand red banners. So... so it was Arthur's wedding candy. No wonder it tasted so bitter. Lionel was in my arms, motionless, his small hand stroking my back, continuously telling me not to cry. He was still too young to understand why I wept, or why the candles in the West Wing burned all night. Isolde, however, was clearly adept at demonstrating her power. The next day, she arrived early at my chambers. Her grand red gown only emphasized her pale complexion, making her appear delicate. But her neck was brazenly exposed, displaying the marks of Arthur’s affection. They were vulgar, commoner's marks, unworthy of my gaze, and I had no patience for them. I simply waited for her to complete her bow and then discreetly leave. But she was utterly tactless. The moment she entered, she sat on my chaise lounge. Her voice was soft, feigning timidity, but I could hear the boastful undertone. "Sister, last night was quite exhausting. His Majesty said I should rest in my chambers, but I thought it improper not to visit you first..." I ignored her, merely resting my hand on my forehead, letting her ramble. But when she mentioned something specific, my expression subtly changed. She said Arthur had bestowed upon her a royal title: "The Winter Rose." It meant her fragrance bloomed purest in the bitter cold, implying she had endured years of hardship to achieve this. He bestowed upon her the title of Winter Rose, as if it were a supreme honor. She spoke with a saccharine smile, secretly glancing at my expression. But I found it utterly tiresome. I didn't look at her, only remembered that winter many years ago, in the plum garden, when Arthur and I had pledged our love. He had said that the most beautiful winter roses in the world bloomed only for me. Now, as I looked up, gazing through the half-open window at the winter roses in my garden, I felt only bitter irony. Winter roses bravely defied the cold, blooming joyfully even in the harshest winter. But love was not so resilient. Too much neglect, and it would simply wither, losing all strength to fight. I waved my hand, cutting off her endless chatter, and casually bestowed upon her a few trifles, dismissing her. She seemed somewhat reluctant but couldn't openly defy me, so she merely closed her mouth sheepishly and left. My lady-in-waiting, Lady Eleanor, who had grown up with me, spoke up, remarking on Isolde's vulgar, shameless display, flaunting her conquests before me. I knew it all too well, but I felt it unnecessary to stoop to her level. The court was a heartless place; once the novelty wore off, she would likely become the next me. I no longer yearned for Arthur to love me as he once had. I only prayed for my Lionel to be safe, happy, and live a long, healthy life. That was all I asked for.
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