In a quiet chamber above the bustling palace, Lyra found herself restless, unable to succumb to the pull of sleep. She had already indulged in enough rest throughout her journey, and now, at an hour just before noon, she wandered through the lofty halls of Gaia's palace. The palace sat atop a mountain, its grandeur only accentuated by the arduous climb up countless steps. Her exploration led her through hidden corridors, far from the grand entrance, denying her the sweeping view that most visitors experienced.
As Lyra moved through the deserted halls, a gentle breeze danced through the open windows, swaying the curtains. The elevated position of the palace offered a breathtaking panorama of nature's beauty, but her inner peace was soon disturbed by the growl of her empty stomach.
She regretted skipping dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. Hungry, she sought a light snack, mindful of avoiding a heavy meal before lunch.
Fortunately, she stumbled upon a terrace, decorated with plush sofas and a single vacant seat. On the table before her rested a bowl of chocolates, enticingly positioned next to a comfortable couch. Remembering the advice she had heard about the strength of the alcohol-infused chocolates, Lyra decided to indulge in a small piece to avoid becoming intoxicated.
Sitting comfortably, she picked up a chocolate. The sweetness was complemented by a spicy undertone, a strange yet delightful combination. A second piece followed, then a third, and soon, she found herself reaching for more, unaware of the effect it would have on her.
It wasn't until the sound of footsteps approaching that she noticed anything unusual. She turned to find King Mildred standing in the doorway, surprise written across his face.
"Crown Princess?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
Lyra, caught off guard, offered an embarrassed smile. "Apologies, my hunger got the best of me. These chocolates are truly delicious."
Mildred chuckled. "No need for apologies. Feel free to enjoy, but..." He trailed off, concern creeping into his tone. "Those chocolates..."
"Yes?" Lyra asked, popping another piece into her mouth.
Her speech slurred as she chewed, and Mildred's concern deepened. He could see the flush rising in her cheeks and hesitated for a moment before continuing.
"Those chocolates contain quite a bit of alcohol. Some could make you drunk."
Lyra's expression remained unchanged, and she continued eating. "How could something so tasty make me drunk?" she asked, her words slightly garbled.
Mildred, now clearly alarmed, grabbed the box from her hand. "These are the alcoholic ones," he explained, "Let me fetch someone to help."
At her indignant protest, he quickly summoned a maid to remove the chocolates and replace them with a safer alternative. Lyra, still unaware of her state, complained about the switch.
"Candy? I don't want candy. I want chocolate!" she declared, her voice tinged with annoyance.
The head maid, bowing deeply, apologized profusely. "We are sorry, Your Highness. The chocolates were meant to be alcohol-free. There was a delay in removing the others."
Mildred, trying to soothe her, offered an explanation. "These are for your sobriety. The alcohol in the other chocolates can be dangerous."
Lyra, still confused, ignored his concern and began to rant about her father's neglect and the tensions between her and others. "No one understands me," she muttered, slumping into the couch in frustration.
Mildred, though trying to remain patient, could sense her growing agitation. He attempted to change the subject to something lighter. "I believe you enjoy tea. Perhaps we should talk about that?"
"Tea?" Lyra's voice perked up. "I adore tea—rose tea, especially."
Mildred grimaced slightly. "Tea is tasteless."
Lyra shot him a disbelieving look. "You haven't had the right kinds. There's rose, Ceylon, Earl Grey—all are rich with flavor."
Their conversation meandered from tea to fishing, and Mildred offered to arrange an excursion for them. "If you like, I can arrange a fishing trip with Prince Dylan."
Lyra, shaking her head, declined. "No, I'd rather not. Your mother would misunderstand, and she treats Dylan terribly, as though he were no more than a commoner. Does she not see his royal blood?"
Mildred watched as Lyra's tone softened, concern clear in her eyes for Dylan. She spoke of his fatigue and the toll his duties had taken on him. "My poor Dylan," she muttered, lost in thought.
Mildred, now realizing the depth of Lyra's affection for Dylan, was momentarily taken aback. Before he could respond, the maid he had summoned arrived with the replacement sweets. A group of attendants, led by Lady Priscilla, followed her into the room.
"We apologize, Your Highness," Lady Priscilla said, embracing Lyra and offering her the new confections.
As the maids and attendants curtsied, Mildred turned to them with a stern look. "Ensure this does not happen again," he commanded.
Lyra, though slightly more composed, continued to express her dissatisfaction with the new sweets. As she spoke, a sudden headache surged at the back of her head. Mildred noticed and, concerned, ordered Lady Priscilla to take her to rest.
"An hour's rest should suffice to sober you," he advised, "The chocolates were potent."
"Oh no, oh no!"
Lyra danced around her room, her eyelids heavy from the candies she had eaten earlier. Lady Priscilla followed, looking concerned, like a duckling trailing its mother. She urged Lyra to rest before lunch.
"Lady Priscilla, tell me, what did I say in front of His Majesty?" Lyra asked, grabbing Priscilla's shoulder, her wide eyes flashing with memories of the earlier conversation.
"When I arrived, you had already finished talking," Priscilla replied.
"I see… I'm doomed then... As far as I remember, I embarrassed myself completely, babbling whatever came to mind... It's over... just bury me now..." Lyra muttered, collapsing into melodrama.
"Please don't be so dramatic," Priscilla said, trying to reassure her. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad... I hope."
She murmured the last part, unsure herself. Sighing, she added, "Perhaps if you close your eyes for a bit, you'll feel better."
"…are you sure?"
Lyra climbed onto the bed as Priscilla tucked her in under the blanket.
"Yes. When you wake up, it'll feel like a silly dream," Priscilla reassured her.
"…I hope so yawn..."
"See, you're already sleepy. It's best to rest now so you can wake up refreshed for lunch and the meeting."
"You're right. Thank you."
"Now please rest."
As Priscilla turned to leave, she stopped and turned back.
"If you don't mind me asking, do you remember anything about your conversation with His Majesty?"
Lyra froze, remembering she had mentioned Dylan. Her face flushed as she hid under the duvet and muttered shyly, "I don't remember. Good morning, then."
"Good morning?" Priscilla raised an eyebrow.
Lyra shrugged, explaining, "It's technically morning. The sun is bright outside. So, I can't say good night, can I? Since I'm about to sleep, I said good morning instead, as it's still before noon."
Priscilla chuckled fondly, thinking to herself that despite the weight of her future role as Queen, Lyra was still very much a young girl at heart. It was part of what made her so adorable.
Priscilla, who was around two years older than Lyra, had grown quite attached to her over the past month. She had begun to think of Lyra as a younger sister, and right now, she made an internal vow to protect Lyra's happiness at all costs.
One thing was clear—King Mildred was an obstacle. While Priscilla knew she couldn't remove him completely, she was aware of Lyra's suspicions about the Queen Mother trying to set her up with the King. Lyra had confided in her about her hopes to spend time with Grand Prince Dylan.
Priscilla knew she had to do something about it. She didn't know exactly what, but she'd start by confronting the King.
With this resolve, she stood up straight, her dirty blonde hair tied in a ponytail, her blue eyes filled with determination.
Not sure where to find the King, Priscilla asked one of the maids to direct her to him. The maid led her to the King, who was standing on a balcony with his attendant. Surprised by the visit, the attendant remained behind, curious about Priscilla's intentions.
Priscilla entered confidently, bowing gracefully, "Greetings to the son and moon of the Gaia Empire."
Mildred, dressed in his military attire, motioned for her to rise, his gaze curious as she met his eyes with unwavering intensity.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
"I need to discuss something with you, Your Majesty."
"What is it?"
Priscilla glanced at the attendant, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. Mildred noticed this and assured her, "Peter is a trusted man. Don't worry. Speak freely."
Priscilla took a breath, "About what happened earlier—I wish to thank you for your help, but also to request that you forget everything that happened."
"Forget what?" Mildred asked, his brow furrowed.
"Everything. Whatever Her Highness said," Priscilla explained.
"I had already planned to do that. Don't worry, I have no interest in gossip," Mildred replied.
"Then I trust you will also back off from the other matter?"
"What matter?"
"The one the Queen Mother is trying to arrange."
"Ah, that. I'll talk to her. Don't worry, I have no interest in marrying Her Highness, nor do I want to become a villain in someone else's love story."
Priscilla's eyes widened in surprise, and she exclaimed without thinking, "Seriously? Promise you won't back down from your words?"
Realizing her bluntness, she quickly cleared her throat. Mildred chuckled.
"I promise. But why do you care so much if I propose to her or not?"
Priscilla's tone grew serious, "You shouldn't. Her Highness already has someone she likes, as you must have guessed. And after a long time, she's finally happy. I want to protect that happiness, and I'll remove any obstacles in her way."
She hissed the last words, her expression grim.
Mildred's eyes twinkled with amusement, "Does that mean you see me as an obstacle?"
"Oh no, Your Majesty. How could I?"
Priscilla quickly added, though in her mind, she thought, "If you don't stop your mother, you might just be."
Her face was an open book, and Mildred could tell she wasn't being entirely sincere.
"You just referred to me as a bug," he teased.
"…I don't recall. Perhaps I have memory issues?" she replied, feigning innocence.
Mildred's playful smile remained, "Perhaps I can help jog your memory?"
Priscilla nervously laughed, "Oh, right! I meant it as a compliment!"
"A compliment?"
"Yes! Bugs can be adorable! They're tiny and cute... like ants, who work so hard. And butterflies... well, they're bugs too. So, you're like a beautiful butterfly, spreading justice, kindness, and love wherever you go!" Priscilla finished, beaming proudly.
Mildred's expression softened as he considered this odd compliment.
"That's an interesting way to describe someone," he said, chuckling. "But you're certain you're not referring to me as a tiny insect?"
"Of course not! I also called you cute!" Priscilla muttered, feeling herself turn red.
Mildred laughed, clearly entertained. "You're quite the character, Miss Hamelton."
Priscilla's smile faltered slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. "I've said my piece. Please don't involve yourself in the matters between Her Highness and His Highness. I'm asking you not to treat Her Highness like a rival for the throne. She's kind, and I want to protect her."
Mildred, now serious, replied, "I understand. And I'll speak with my mother. But I still don't understand why you're so insistent on this."
Priscilla, her tone becoming more resolute, replied, "I'm doing this because I care. I'll protect Her Highness, no matter what."
With a final bow, she turned and left, leaving behind a confused but intrigued King.
"...Is she upset? Did I joke too much?" Mildred mused, watching her leave.
His attendant, Peter, who had been silent through most of the exchange, asked, "What happened?"
"She's just concerned for her friend," Mildred said, his gaze lingering on the door Priscilla had exited through. "Maybe too concerned."
Peter hesitated before adding, "Perhaps she has feelings for you?"
Mildred's eyes widened in disbelief. "No, that can't be true. She's just protective of her friend. Now, let's get back to work."
As Peter resumed his report, Mildred couldn't shake the thought of Priscilla's words and her odd behavior. What had just happened? He didn't know, but it had left him thinking.