Shirley lamented inside her room. She banged on the wooden frame of her furniture multiple times, frustrated at being incapable of shrugging off the uncomfortable feeling her conversation with Aleksei brought.
"If.. If that girl's wishes contradicts with mine.." Shirley whispered, her voice so faint and thin that no one other than her could hear. "What do I do?"
She was stuck in a dilemma. She had a love hate relationship with Alfheim, which tied her down to this damned position. At the same time, this very position brought her quite the fair share of joy. She couldn't imagine a Shirley Villarante who wasn't the Elven Queen.
She didn't know when, but the title had became a part of her identity instead of it being the opposite.
She was in a difficult position.
"Estelle Clareste... Or, like she introduced herself with our surname- Estelle.. Villarante," Shirley's voice grew raspier as the itch in her heart grew stronger.
