The tradition of royal captivity originated during the rule of the Second Emperor Ludwig in the Sylvania Empire. Descendants from different kingdoms were brought to Sylvania as symbols of peace. During their reigns:
The Second Emperor Ludwig held 19 royal captives.
The Third Emperor Ludwig II held 7 royal captives.
The Fourth Emperor Thornton held 1 royal captive.
These captives were brought to the Sylvania Empire through either coercion or voluntary agreement.
Year 156 of Thornton, 13 Years Ago.
In the vibrant garden, the air was filled with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers, their petals swaying gently in the breeze. Bees buzzed busily from one blossom to another, and butterflies floated gracefully, adding an enchanting charm to the scene. The garden would have been a haven of tranquility if not for the shouting women in its vicinity.
"How dare you stand before me, you southern maggot!" Princess Ivy's voice cut through the serene air.
"You've been here for as long as I have, yet it appears you still haven't realized you're not as mighty as you think you are anymore, you old hag!" Princess Eureka retorted.
Princess Ivy, her face flushing with anger, snapped back, "Who are you calling an old hag? You're just as old as I am! You are so uncouth, Princess Eureka!"
"I look younger than you! And you are more uncouth than me!" Princess Eureka shot back, her tone laced with disdain.
"Y-you!"
Katarina calmly sipped her tea, her eyes flickering with amusement as she observed the bickering among the other princesses. "I admire their spirit to quarrel despite their age and infirmity," she remarked, her voice carrying a note of irony.
At 45, Katarina herself wasn't exactly young. But among the royals in captivity, she was the youngest. The quarreling princesses must be around 50 years old.
"Gathering royals under one roof, don't you find the Sylvanians' taste rather peculiar, Prince Farhan?" Katarina asked.
Farhan shrugged, sipping his own tea as well, his long hair combed back neatly, a picture of composure amid the chaos. "I'd call it a pragmatic solution," he replied, his tone thoughtful. "It also strokes their ego, doesn't it? A grand display of power, even better than collecting the rarest treasures. I hate to admit that the Sylvanians are too crafty."
Katarina chuckled softly, a wry smile playing on her lips. "You've become quite a fan of the ways of the Sylvanians."
"It beats being entangled in my siblings' power struggles. And I appreciate the food and comforts they provide," Farhan replied, lifting his cup to Katarina.
The royal captives were surrounded by opulence, draped in extravagant attire and adorned with jewels that gleamed in the muted light. They were waited upon by personal servants who catered to their every material whim. Yet, for all the luxury that surrounded them, freedom remained a distant mirage.
Occasionally, they were granted the privilege of attending grand parties hosted within the Imperial Palace—events that offered a tantalizing taste of the outside world. However, these interactions were meticulously monitored, every word and gesture scrutinized under watchful eyes. Beyond these rare gatherings, any form of communication with the outside world was strictly forbidden. Trades were barred, and marriage was an unthinkable notion.
Despite the presence of both men and women among the captives, their living quarters were strictly segregated and heavily guarded, enforcing stark isolation. The sole haven where they were permitted to interact freely was the garden, a sanctuary within the confines of the Lily Palace.
Inside this place, they were like delicate dolls in a fancy cage. Their lives were filled with luxury but lacked the basic freedom to shape their own destinies.
In this twisted existence, death became their only escape. As lifeless bodies— their final act of defiance— were returned to the kingdoms they once knew, their spirits found release from the shackles that had bound them in life.
Katarina smiled and took another sip of her tea. "Good for you, my friend," she said.
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a cry. "There's a new one! A new one!"
The tension in the air heightened, and Katarina, observing the chaos, couldn't help but be intrigued by the unusual occurrence.
"Princess Briar, what do you mean, a new one?" someone asked.
"A new royal captive! What else do you think?"
"What?" Everyone tensed at the news.
It was the first time in Katarina's 29 years of captivity that she had witnessed a 'new one'. Despite their animosity towards one another, the captive royals seemed to share a mutual sense of hatred and fear, knowing that Sylvania had successfully taken away another royal.
The atmosphere grew tense as a group of Sylvanian servants entered, walking with them a young girl. The captives, momentarily unified by the shared experience of captivity, awaited an explanation.
"Coming in without warning, these Sylvanian servants are certainly audacious," murmured one of the captives, hiding her mouth with a fan.
The official leading the group, seemingly fatigued, addressed the captives, "I'm pleased to see most of you are here. Perhaps you can arrange a welcome party for your new addition." With those words, he presented the group with the little girl.
The little girl met Katarina's gaze briefly before shifting her gaze to the ground.
"Seriously, a child? How old is she? That kid still needs a nanny."
"That child is terribly pale."
"And that silver hair... or is it white? No matter... It looks like..."
"The child is a Princess of Ásjáheimr," the man finally explained. "She's naturally pale."
The people in the garden gasped in astonishment.
"Oh, heavens. An Ásján?" one asked in disbelief.
"I'll leave you to get acquainted. We shall take our leave." The man and his knights departed without further words. The child stood there, her posture regal and refined. She possessed the pale skin and silver hair characteristic of the Ásjáns.
"Greetings," the child performed an elegant Sylvanian curtsy. "I am Princess Ingrid of Ásjáheimr. I bear no last name."
The murmur among the captives intensified, each exchanging glances that conveyed a mixture of surprise and concern. Katarina, too, found herself drawn into the unfolding drama, her eyes fixed on the newcomer.
Unfortunately, that was just the beginning of the insults the little princess received.
"Ha! I suppose even the proud Ásjáns have succumbed to Sylvania," remarked Princess Ivy.
Ásjáheimr was the first to seal its borders when Sylvania's influence started to grow. They isolated themselves entirely, forsaking their allies and neighbors, claiming the world was too polluted and dirty. Perhaps they were right, but this decision left a bitter taste for the other kingdoms. Ásjáheimr was seen as a selfish and arrogant kingdom, becoming widely despised by all.
"Look at that repulsive white hair and pale skin."
"Is she sick again? I doubt she'll last long. Well, that is good for us."
"Why are we even living with an Ásján? She should isolate herself like her selfish kingdom. Perhaps she's here to poison us with her misery."
"Child, do you enjoy reading?" Katarina and Farhan were the first people to approach Ingrid. Perhaps because their kingdoms were far away from Ásjáheimr, they held no grudges against her.
They taught her and provided her with things, showing kindness in a world filled with hostility. And yet...
"Where did you get these wounds? They don't seem recent," Katarina asked, examining Ingrid's arm, which had several red dots.
"Bug bites, Your Highness. Please, do not worry," Ingrid replied with a gentle voice.
Katarina initially thought they resembled needle wounds, similar to what she had experienced when learning needlework. However, observing Ingrid's calm expression, she chose to trust her explanation.
Ingrid hid more mistreatment from Katarina. Often, she was 'accidentally' bumped, tripped, and splashed with water by other princesses' maids. The other princesses would ask her tricky questions with malicious intent. If she couldn't answer correctly, they made her kneel. Occasionally, they took Ingrid's share of firewood and food. It was a never-ending cycle, but Ingrid endured these in silence.
One day, a peculiar event unfolded in the Lily Palace.
"The western garden is on fire! Quickly, fetch water!" a panicked servant shouted. Fortunately, the fire was contained before it could escalate. The cause remained a mystery.
It was only later that Katarina learned Ingrid had been without a lamp for days.
"Why is your chamber so dimly lit? Did you chase away your maids again?" Katarina questioned, surveying Ingrid's poorly illuminated room with its worn curtains and thin mattress. The air was musty, a stark contrast to Katarina's usual fragrant surroundings.
"I couldn't light my lamp," Ingrid confessed.
Katarina examined the lamp. "Oh, it's because there is no oil left at all. Have the maids neglected to refill it? You should have enough to burn a..."
Katarina halted, her attention shifting from the lamp to Ingrid.
"Ingrid, what happened to the oil in your lamp?" Katarina inquired, her expression changing from concern to realization. "You... It's not like you started the fire in the western garden, right?" Katarina nervously laughed, recalling the garden near Princess Ivy's room.
A heavy silence lingered before Ingrid finally found her voice.
"They... killed my cat."
"What?"
"Princess Ivy ordered her servants to beat my cat to death just because... it had white fur," Ingrid choked out, tears streaming down her face. "That poor creature, if it weren't mine, could've lived well elsewhere. I shouldn't have been selfish."
"Oh, Ingrid," Katarina said, moving closer.
"I am sorry.... Your Highness," Ingrid continued. "I know you said that responding to violence with more violence... is not the solution. Yet... I still wanted to hurt them for what they did to Berry."
Ingrid's sobs grew louder. Katarina sat on Ingrid's bed and reached out to hug her.
"I... despise them with all my heart... I am sorry, Your Highness," Ingrid whispered, her voice cracking. She hugged her pillow as she let Katarina embrace her.
"My dear child," Katarina whispered, her voice as gentle as the night. "Perhaps I have been too blind to your suffering. You don't have to hide your pain from me. I will be by your side, Ingrid. Always."