The sound of music filled the garden. The Duke's garden was more lively than usual, with a train of guests flooding the mansion, all wearing smiles and bearing gifts. Continuous sounds of congratulations and praises drifted in the air. Today was the day Lady Freya Franks, the Duke's daughter, was getting married to the second prince of the great Grudia Empire. Although the wedding ceremony was being held at the Duke's mansion, it was not to be looked down upon. The Franks' mansion boasted the most beautiful garden in the empire, and for the wedding, it opened its gates to guests. Those present couldn't be more pleased with their decision to attend.
The garden was a breathtaking sight. Rows of vibrant flowers in full bloom lined the pathways, their petals forming a colorful mosaic that delighted the eyes. Elegant arches adorned with cascading ivy and twinkling fairy lights created a magical ambiance. At the center of the garden, a grand gazebo draped in sheer white fabric stood, where the ceremony would take place. Crystal chandeliers hung from the trees, casting a soft, enchanting glow over the entire scene. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of roses, lilies, and jasmine, mingling with the scent of freshly cut grass.
Meanwhile, inside the Duke's mansion, the main character of the day was sitting nervously in her room. Freya couldn't count the number of layers she was wearing; it was too hot, and she could feel herself beginning to sweat. Even her bun was pulled up too tightly, but she couldn't voice any complaints to the maid. The maid had been sent by Prince Arth's mother, her future mother-in-law and the king's second wife , and Freya didn't want to be on her bad side. It already seemed she didn't like her that much.
Freya's wedding dress was chosen by the second queen. The gown was made of the finest silk, shimmering with every movement. Delicate lace adorned the bodice, intricately woven into floral patterns that mirrored the garden's beauty. The sleeves were long and sheer, ending in a gentle flare at her wrists. The skirt flowed out in layers of tulle, creating a soft, ethereal effect as she moved. Tiny pearls and crystals were sewn into the fabric, catching the light and adding a touch of sparkle. A long, flowing veil completed the ensemble, cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk.
"Let's not think of such things on a wonderful day," she said, shaking her head profusely. Even if she didn't like her dress it didn't matter, She was getting married to Arth today ; that was all that mattered. Despite her attempts to stay positive, a knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach. Was she truly ready for this?
'Knock knock.' The sound of the door interrupted Freya's train of thought.
"Who is it?"
The door slowly opened, revealing a heavenly beauty. A smile blossomed on Freya's face.
"Florence, you're here," she said, getting up to hug the girl.
Standing side by side, they looked almost identical. The same pale white skin, the same facial structure—the only difference was the color of their hair and eyes. Florence had bright blonde hair that was almost transparent and big brown eyes, whereas Freya had long black curly hair and big blue eyes that looked like jewels.
They were both daughters of Duke Franks, but Freya had her mother's features, which the Duchess was not proud of since it was a constant reminder that her husband had an affair.
Despite that, the two girls had been inseparable since the day Freya came to the mansion. Florence was just six years old at the time and Freya four. Florence, who had always wanted a sister, greeted her with open arms, and they had been close ever since.
Florence hugged Freya tighter. "I can't believe you're getting married," she said, taking a good look at Freya. "You're too good for that prince."
A smile couldn't help but blossom on Freya's face. Her sister was always like this, saying Arth was a thief stealing her away. "I know, but I love him."
Florence couldn't help but sigh. Freya had always been a little naive. She believed in fated love and wished to find love like those princesses in fairy tales.
"Sigh, I hope that bastard knows how much you love him and loves you much more."
"He does."
"If he makes you cry, I don't care if he's a prince, I'll kill him."
"I'll make sure to tell you if he wrongs me in the slightest way," Freya said, pulling Florence's hand closer to her with a smile.
"Don't bury yourself in research and forget to eat. Even if I'm not here, go for walks regularly. Don't just shut yourself in the lab, okay?"
Freya couldn't help but think about Florence even in this moment. She was going to miss her sister the most.
"I promise I will. It's almost time for the ceremony. One last hug."
As Freya leaned in for a hug with her sister, she felt a cold, sharp metal plunge into her stomach.
Her white dress was dyed red with blood. Looking up in disbelief, she couldn't believe that Florence had stabbed her.
Freya's vision blurred as she clutched her stomach, trying to comprehend the betrayal. Her sister, the one she had trusted the most, had stabbed her. The pain was excruciating, but the emotional agony was even worse.
"Why, Florence?" Freya gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "Why would you do this?"
Florence's expression was cold, devoid of the warmth Freya had always seen. "You were always in the way, Freya. Always the perfect daughter, the one everyone adored. But you never deserved it. You were just a reminder of Father's infidelity."
Freya's heart ached at the words. She had always tried to be a good sister, to make up for the circumstances of her birth. But it had never been enough.
The door to the room burst open, and Prince Arth rushed in. Freya's eyes lit up with hope. "Arth, help me," she pleaded, reaching out to him.
But instead of rushing to her side, Arth's eyes were fixed on Florence. He walked past Freya, who was now on the floor, struggling to stay conscious. He knelt beside Florence, gently taking her hand.
"Are you alright, my love?" Arth asked, his voice filled with concern.
Freya's world shattered. "My love?" she repeated, her voice trembling. "Arth, what is going on?"
Arth finally looked at her, his expression one of disdain. "Did you really think I would marry you out of love, Freya? This was all a plan. Florence and I have been together for years. We needed you out of the way."
Tears streamed down Freya's face as the realization hit her. She had been nothing but a pawn in their game. "How could you do this to me?" she cried.
Florence smirked, her jealousy and hatred finally laid bare. "You were always so naive, Freya. It was easy to fool you."
Freya's strength was fading, but she clung to the last shred of hope. "Someone will find out. They will know what you've done."
Arth laughed softly. "By the time anyone realizes, it will be too late. We will be long gone."
As darkness began to close in, Freya's thoughts turned to the life she had dreamed of, now slipping away. She had to survive, if only to expose their treachery. With her last ounce of strength, she whispered, "I will not let you get away with this."