"Iris," he said finally, his voice softer, almost gentle. "You are young. You don't understand anything yet. You don't need to know anything yet," his tone changed to one full of pain, before returning to the face of the mighty emperor.
Iris felt a wave of frustration and sadness at her father's words. She wanted to bridge the gap between them, to bring back the warmth they once shared, but it seemed like an impossible task. She swallowed her emotions, forcing herself to maintain composure in front of the guests. "I understand, Father," she said quietly, though her heart ached.
The rest of the banquet passed in a blur for Iris. She barely tasted the food or heard the conversations around her. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of her mother and the distance between her and her father. She longed for a way to reach him, to remind him of the love they once shared, but she felt helpless.
After the banquet, Iris returned to her chamber, her emotions finally spilling over. She collapsed onto her bed, tears streaming down her face. The weight of her mother's loss and her father's coldness pressed heavily on her heart. She felt alone, adrift in a world that had once been filled with love and warmth.
As she lay there, a soft knock on her door startled her. She quickly wiped her tears and sat up, composing herself. "Come in," she called, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
The door opened, and her nanny, a kind woman named Matilda, entered the room. Matilda had been with the family for years and had been a source of comfort and support for Iris since her mother's passing. "Iris, dear," Matilda said gently, "I saw you leave the banquet early. Are you alright?"
Iris managed a weak smile. "I'm fine, Matilda. Just tired, that's all."
Matilda's eyes softened with concern as she sat down beside Iris on the bed. "Iris, I know it's been difficult. Your mother was a wonderful woman, and your father... well, he's been through a lot. But you mustn't lose hope. There is still love in his heart, even if it's buried deep."
Iris nodded, appreciating Matilda's words, but she couldn't shake the feeling of hopelessness. "I just wish things could go back to how they were," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Matilda wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting embrace. "I know, dear. But sometimes, we have to be the ones to bring about change. Your father needs you, even if he doesn't show it. You have the strength and love inside you to reach him. Don't give up."
Iris closed her eyes, letting Matilda's words sink in. She knew she had to keep trying, for her mother's sake and her own. She had to find a way to reconnect with her father, to heal the wounds that had torn their family apart.
The next morning, Iris woke with a renewed sense of determination. She decided to start small, to find ways to remind her father of the love and warmth they once shared. She would need to be patient and persistent, but she was willing to do whatever it took.
Over the following weeks, Iris made a conscious effort to spend more time with her father. She would join him for breakfast, accompany him on walks through the palace gardens, and even sit quietly in his study while he worked. At first, Emperor Lucian seemed indifferent to her presence, but gradually, he began to soften. He would ask her about her studies, share stories of the empire, and even smile occasionally.
Iris's efforts to reconnect with her father slowly bore fruit. Emperor Lucian began to soften, and moments of warmth occasionally broke through his stoic facade. She cherished these moments, believing they signaled the return of the father she had once known. But one fateful day, her uncle, Duke Alaric, planted a seed of hope in her heart that would lead to devastating consequences.
Duke Alaric was a man of considerable charm and guile, often whispering into the ears of those around him to sow discord or gain favor. He had always been close to Emperor Lucian, but Iris had grown wary of him, sensing his manipulative nature. Nevertheless, when he approached her with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, she couldn't help but listen.
"Niece," Alaric said, his voice smooth and persuasive, "I have news that could bring joy to your father. I believe it's time you played a pivotal role in our family's legacy."
Iris's heart quickened. "What is it, Uncle? What could make Father rejoice?"
Alaric leaned in, his eyes glinting with mischief. "The court has recently discovered a rare artifact from your mother's homeland. Present it to your father, and he will be reminded of his love for her. It could reignite the warmth he once felt."
The prospect of rekindling her father's affection filled Iris with hope. She thanked her uncle and set about preparing the presentation of the artifact. It was a beautifully crafted locket, said to hold a secret only true love could unlock. She was certain it would evoke fond memories and bring them closer.
On the appointed evening, Iris dressed in her finest gown and took a deep breath before entering her father's study. Emperor Lucian sat at his desk, engrossed in his work. The atmosphere was tense, and Iris could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
"Father," she began, her voice steady but soft, "I have something for you. It's a gift—a reminder of Mother."
Emperor Lucian looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it, Iris?"
She approached the desk, holding out the locket. "It's a locket from Mother's homeland. I thought... I thought it might bring you joy."
For a moment, there was silence. Then, the Emperor's expression darkened. He stood abruptly, knocking the locket from Iris's hands. It fell to the floor with a clatter.
"How dare you!" he thundered, his voice echoing through the study. "Do you think a trinket can bring her back? Do you think this is what I need to be reminded of her?"
Iris recoiled, tears welling up in her eyes. "I... I just wanted to make you happy, Father."
Emperor Lucian's face twisted in anger. "You are a foolish child, Iris. You know nothing of what I feel, of the burdens I carry. Do not presume to understand."
The harshness of his words cut deep, and Iris felt a sob rise in her throat. She fled from the study, her heart shattered by her father's reaction. She ran to her chambers, locking the door behind her and collapsing onto her bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
Iris paused near a secluded corner of the palace gardens, her attention caught by the hushed conversation of two guards nearby. Their words reached her ears, each syllable heavy with implication.
"They say there's a plot against the Emperor," one guard whispered, glancing around nervously. "A deadly poison, meant for the grand feast."
Iris's blood ran cold. She pressed herself against the cool stone wall, her heart pounding. Her father's life was in danger, and she knew that he wouldn't listen to her if she warned him—not after their last encounter. His harsh words still echoed in her mind, but she couldn't let that stop her. Determined to save him, she resolved to uncover the plot on her own.
For the next few days, Iris moved through the palace with a new sense of purpose. She kept her ears open, listening for any mention of the plot or the poison. She observed the staff closely, noting who seemed out of place or unusually tense. It was a delicate dance, one that required her to remain inconspicuous while gathering crucial information.
Late one night, Iris slipped into the palace kitchens, where she had overheard whispers of the poison being prepared. She hid behind a stack of crates, her breath shallow as she watched the servants move about. Most of them were busy with their usual tasks, but one man caught her attention. He was hunched over a table, his movements furtive as he mixed something in a small vial.
Iris strained to hear his muttered words, catching only fragments of his conversation with another servant. "Must be careful... deadly... for the Emperor's goblet..."
Her heart raced as she realized she had found the source of the poison. She waited until the man left the kitchen, then crept forward to inspect the vial. It was a dark, viscous liquid that gave off a faint, acrid smell. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the poison intended for her father.
Iris knew she couldn't confront the servant directly—it would raise too many suspicions. Instead, she decided to watch him closely, tracking his movements over the next few days. She followed him discreetly, noting the times he met with other conspirators and where he hid the vial when he wasn't using it.
Piece by piece, Iris put together the details of the assassination attempt. The poison was to be administered during the grand feast, hidden in a goblet intended for the Emperor. She knew she had to act swiftly to prevent the plot from succeeding.
On the day of the feast, the palace buzzed with preparations. Servants scurried about, setting tables and arranging decorations. Iris's resolve hardened as she slipped into the serving area, positioning herself near the drinks. Her heart pounded as she watched the servant with the poison. He was nervously glancing around, clutching the vial in his hand.
Iris took a deep breath, steadying herself. She had to time her actions perfectly. As the servant prepared to pour the poison into the Emperor's goblet, she stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. "Let me handle that," she said, reaching for the goblet.
The servant looked startled, but he handed it over, his eyes shifting nervously. "Just be careful," he muttered. "It's a special blend for the Emperor."