91 Years Before the Rise, West of the Eastern Lands, Ayzmere
The midday sun bathed the city in its golden warmth. She straightened the hem of her dark green dress, feeling the cool breeze against her skin as she leaned against the balcony. From the height of the fortress, the view gave her a sense of dominance, as though the entire city lay beneath her. The ships on the "Shimmering Sea" were like distant whispers of peace. Yet, even as the light reflected off the water, her mind churned restlessly, a dark cloud casting over her heart.
"Open the gates!"
The massive iron doors of the fortress groaned as they slowly creaked open. A small party of riders entered with deliberate steps, each movement echoing through the quiet halls. Without intending to, she clenched her jaw, her gaze sharp and hostile as it fixed on the tall man dismounting his horse. The welcome was sparse, far from the grandeur that one might expect. But her unease remained, lingering like a shadow.
The man ran a hand through his long, dark hair, his eyes catching hers with unsettling intensity. His gaze locked onto her, green eyes meeting green, and the triumph in his smile felt like a sharp dagger. It was the kind of victory that stung, not healed.
She tightened her grip on the skirt of her dress, her fingers trembling as she pulled away from the balcony. Her steps were quick, almost frantic as she descended the stone stairs. She didn't hesitate as she passed through the corridors, her every motion a silent command. With a sharp gesture, the guards obeyed, swinging the heavy doors open for her.
Inside, the young prince stood, his slender figure atop a wooden pedestal in front of a mirror. His arms were slightly raised as attendants adjusted the gold-embroidered silks and brocades draped over his frame. The moment she entered, the room fell into silence, and every pair of eyes turned to her, bowing deeply.
Raymen, the court tailor, stood nearby, a young man dressed in exquisite jewelry and elegant attire. His hands delicately picked up a necklace, studded with radiant emeralds, from a velvet cushion. He opened his mouth to speak, but the princess's voice—sharp and commanding—cut through the air.
"Leave. Now."
The room emptied in an instant, and the prince, indifferent, allowed the silks to fall away from his body. He stepped down from the pedestal, standing before her stark naked, as if her presence didn't matter at all. With effortless calm, he reached for a simple white tunic, draped carelessly over a chair. The princess, her face twisted with distaste, watched him the entire time, her gaze never wavering.
"I am most curious to know what has brought you into my private chambers in such a manner, dear sister," he said, his voice dripping with mock curiosity.
She let out a bitter, empty laugh, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her fingers traced the delicate emeralds on the table, her voice cold as ice. "The city is burning with betrayal and chaos, and yet my fool of a brother spends his time amidst fabrics and jewels. What thoughts, I wonder, reside in that empty head of yours, dear brother?"
The prince, now seated at the edge of his bed, leaned back on his arms. His green eyes, vacant and uninterested, wandered between his sister and the world beyond the windows. "All I see in this city are its ugly, filthy houses, its streets, its people."
"Of course you do—because you're an idiot," she retorted, her voice barely contained.
The silence between them hung thick and suffocating, but Nellara didn't falter. She stepped closer, her gaze now piercing, and cupped his sharp, angular face in her hands.
"Look at me, Rendej. The members of the Mediator Council are gathered in the small hall. I want you to dress like a true man and attend that meeting. They must see that the king has a rightful heir."
His eyes, glazed and distant, finally flickered back to hers. Nellara closed her own for a moment, her breath shallow as she gripped his face harder.
"Look at me, Rendezh. That bastard is here. The city is divided, the people are agitated—waiting for any excuse to tear us apart. They're waiting for a spark to hang us all. Father no longer commands the power he once did. You are the prince. You are the only legitimate son of the King of the East. You are the rightful heir to the throne."
Her words stung him, and Rendej broke her gaze, muttering a curse against the throne. In a single, violent motion, he shoved Nellara back, his hand against her stomach, and leaped to his feet. His shout rang through the room, filled with rage.
"You know what?" he roared, fury in his eyes as he hurled insults at the throne and all it stood for. "I hate everything about politics, that stupid throne, and those wrinkled vultures circling around it!...F*ck this stupid throne!"
He slammed his fists against the table, leaning forward with all his weight, as if to push his frustration into the wood itself.
"Maybe the people are right," he said, voice low but fierce. "Everything ends, Nellara. Maybe our time has come."
Nellara stood behind him, her gaze unwavering. The contempt in her expression was palpable, burning with frustration.
"If you could see yourself through my eyes," she said, her voice dripping with cold disdain, "you'd realize how pitiful and selfish you are. Sometimes, I can't even believe we were born on the same night."
The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tension, until Nellara moved, taking a step closer to him.
"I'll go in your place," she said, her voice firm but edged with barely-contained anger. "I will stand in the small hall and face those vultures for you. But know this—whatever happens to me, to our younger brother, to our mother, it will be because of your irresponsibility and indulgence, my twin brother."
She stood beside him now, her fingers brushing against the silks on the table, the touch dismissive and cold.
"And these fabrics…" she said with deep distaste, her voice almost a whisper, "they're exquisite, Ren. But soon, we won't need the Red Sparrow. With these, you'll surely become the court's finest fool."
Without another word, she turned and left. The door slammed shut behind her, but she didn't see the single tear that slid down Rendej's cheek, the first he'd shed in years.