Returning from the meeting, Ely took a round check on her father and brother, who were both unavailable; thus, she walked to her room and sprawled on her bed. The day went surprisingly well. She sighed and began to take off her clothes. She was sure that the message had reached the ends of the kingdom by now, considering how shocked the officials were.
She walked over to a mirror and sat before it in only her underwear. The mirror reflected a woman; her golden hair was let loose as it cascaded on her shoulders like a golden river. Her sapphire eyes glowed lightly, illuminating her pale face. Its glow spelt worry and anxiety, which were meticulously hidden in the depths of those blue eyes. She traced her hand on her face and realized she was growing thinner by the day.
Initially, when she heard the news of the upcoming announcement of his successor, she was shocked. She wanted to delay it as long as possible, but she couldn't.
"Why did it have to be now?" she muttered to herself, moving over to her closet to pick out a gown to wear. Her pale face was characterized by the scowl on it. She slumped on a couch and rested her head on its headboard. Of course, she needed to ask: why now? Why now when she had not been able to identify the cause of her brother's change in behavior while it grew worse? Why now when her father had mysteriously been stricken by this demeaning illness? Why now when she couldn't mend all the holes in her fortress?
She stared at the ceiling blankly, seemingly lost in her thoughts.
"My Lady..." A blue-clothed individual knelt close to the couch on which Ely was seated. However, Ely's mind was far away, and it wasn't until the masked individual tapped her lightly that she jerked.
"Oh... it's you. How have you been?" Ely asked with concern while sitting straight.
"I have fared well, My Lady." A muffled voice resounded in the room, but it was coherent enough to be heard.
"I can see you have." Ely smiled before gesturing to a chair opposite hers. "Take a seat."
The blue-clothed individual hesitated before moving over to sit.
"So... any news?"
"Yes, My Lady, the news managed to get to..." They went on to tell Ely all that they had to report.
Ely kept quiet throughout, only chipping in to fill in the holes; she had a thoughtful expression on her countenance. "Thank you, Cl... thank you."
The masked individual didn't miss the slight mistake the Princess almost made; nevertheless, they merely bowed and left. "And My Lady, 'he' has traced me out, but he doesn't know my identity."
Ely's countenance changed a bit, but she merely gave them an encouraging smile. "Just go along with him, okay?"
The masked individual nodded and then jumped off the balcony.
The last report given by the masked individual gripped her a bit. It was getting out of hand, but unsurprisingly, she couldn't do anything about it. Well, "couldn't" is a fancy word, but she didn't want to do it. She sighed helplessly.
She was scared, anxious, and a whole myriad of emotions. She couldn't do anything about it since she had developed a deep-seated fear of scolding her brother. After the death of their parents, many things happened, leading to her taking care of her brother as a motherly figure; however, she couldn't bring herself to confront or chastise him when he went wrong.
Tiredly, she walked to the balcony of her room, gazing sadly at the beautiful moon that shone in the sky. It wasn't as lonely as it was when she was out on a promenade with her brother. The support it got from the stars seemed to make it burn brighter. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't; so if she couldn't stop, then at least she had to do something to compensate for all those years he didn't have a mother.
Under the same moonlight, elsewhere in the castle...
Footsteps vibrated on the marble; the figure walked freely, unhindered, as though he owned the place. His lemon hair fluttered lightly, and he broke a curve. This was Philip, who had a bored expression on his countenance. His steps were light and unhurried; ahead of him was a golden door, and with a slight push, it opened. There were couches arranged in an orderly way, with a tea table in the middle. On the walls were beautiful paintings of a timeless era and intriguing topics.
He paid no heed to them and walked ahead, branching left to open another door, albeit smaller than the first. He walked in, pausing to inhale the floral scent of paint. Walking further away from the door, he got to a canvas that was covered with a dark cloth. He stared at it with complicated emotions running amok in his eyes, and after a few seconds, reaching a decision, perhaps, he jerked it down, revealing the painting.
He pulled a stool to him and sat on it, staring admiringly at the painting. It depicted a beautiful young woman with golden hair that cascaded down her shoulders like ancient rain; her piercing blue eyes gleamed with warmth as a beautiful smile graced her heart-shaped face. She was seated on a bench in a garden, staring admiringly at the sky.
Philip traced his hands on the painting, his eyes gleaming with warmth and protectiveness. In his pale blue eyes lurked the thin line of restraint. A lining of his consciousness, which was stable, was trying hard to pull him away; however, the unknown feeling that pulled him here was too strong. He couldn't even wrestle against it, much less stop.
The things he didn't want to do were what he did the most and with relish. He couldn't stop.
The thought of her rising to the top didn't pain him as much as the thought of her being seen by those men, gazing at her with lecherous intent. The thought itself made him want to go on a rampage.
With everything that was going on, he knew that it wouldn't be more than a month before Ely managed to catch the culprits of this act, and after that, the King would crown her Queen of Elyptis. He had a month to decide whether he wished to take the throne from her and keep her safe or kill every lecherous gaze that would be directed at her. But that would be too much of a hassle.
"The former is the only doable option."
Even though Ely would be angry, he knew she would come around. Resolve and determination gleamed in his eyes. There would be no obstacle to stop him...
"Oh—the King," he muttered with a bland tone, pulling back his hands.
He walked towards a portrait at the far left with his hands in his pockets. The portrait was of a man with blue eyes and dark hair with a crown. Philip stared at it with a blank expression.
"He is the only one that can stand against me, even though he is on his last legs." He brushed his thumb against his chin.
"Well, I can kill him; it is not like it is a big deal, anyway." He thought aloud, looking away from the portrait. He always had an estranged relationship with his father; thus, he wasn't sure the other party would care if he died. Well, even if he did, it wasn't his problem.