As the carriage rumbled back to the Kingdom of Pride, Agro leaned his head against the window, watching the moonlit landscape rush past. The soft hum of wheels on the cobblestones was broken by Mary's gentle voice.
"How was the party, Agro?" she asked, a curious smile playing on her lips.
Agro, lost in thought, took a moment before replying. "It was… the best," he admitted quietly, his tone carrying a mix of surprise and reluctant joy.
Mary chuckled, nudging him playfully. "Told you. I knew you'd enjoy it."
King Chil, seated across from them, looked up from a letter he was reading. "I'm glad to hear that, Agro," he said warmly. "Birthdays should be memorable."
Agro nodded, though his gaze turned distant again. He wasn't thinking about the festivities or the lavish cake they'd shared. Instead, his thoughts lingered on Sara. She wasn't like anyone he'd ever met—definitely not like how he imagined a princess would be.
When they arrived at their kingdom, Mary placed a hand on Agro's shoulder as they stepped out of the carriage. "Get some rest," she said softly. "Tomorrow's another day."
Agro gave her a faint smile before retreating to his chambers.
Back at the Kingdom of Pride, Sara sat by her window, staring out into the quiet night. The stars were scattered like diamonds across the sky, their glow reflected in her thoughtful eyes.
"Did you enjoy your party?" Arthea's voice broke the silence as she entered the room, her regal presence filling the space.
Sara glanced back at her mother, then turned her gaze back to the stars. "It was the best," she said, though her tone was muted.
Arthea's lips curved into a smile. "Good," she said briskly. "Because tomorrow, we invade the Kingdom of Hope together."
Sara froze, her fingers tightening on the windowsill. "What?"
"It's time you joined me," Arthea continued. "Even a princess must stand beside her queen when we take what is ours."
"No," Sara said firmly, turning to face her mother. "I can't."
Arthea's smile faltered, her brow furrowing. "Why not?" she asked sharply. "It's not because of that boy, is it?"
Sara hesitated, her jaw tightening. "That boy is my friend," she said, her voice rising. "If I invade his kingdom, he'll hate me."
Arthea's expression softened, but her tone remained firm. "He won't know," she said calmly. "I'll make sure of it."
Sara's fists clenched at her sides, her heart pounding. "Fine," she said finally, though her voice cracked with emotion. "But if he finds out, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever."
Arthea's eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "So be it. Goodnight, Sara."
The queen left, her footsteps echoing down the hall. Sara turned back to the window, tears stinging her eyes as she whispered to herself, "I'm sorry, Agro."
The dawn came too soon.
The Kingdom of Hope was quiet and unsuspecting when the forces of Pride descended upon it. Sara rode beside her mother, her face pale and her hands trembling as they approached the first target—a small, peaceful village on the outskirts.
The air was crisp, the faint scent of woodsmoke wafting from the chimneys of simple cottages. Villagers bustled about their morning routines, unaware of the danger that loomed.
Arthea raised her hand, signaling her soldiers to halt. She surveyed the village with cold precision. "No defenses," she murmured. "This will be quick."
Sara swallowed hard, her stomach churning. "Why here?" she asked quietly. "Why not the capital?"
Arthea's gaze didn't waver. "Because the capital expects us. A village like this… won't stand a chance."
Sara's throat tightened, but she said nothing.
The attack began swiftly. Soldiers stormed the village, torches in hand and weapons drawn. The once-peaceful morning erupted into chaos as villagers fled, screaming, into the woods. Cottages burned, livestock scattered, and the sky filled with acrid smoke.
In the midst of the chaos, Mary and Agro were in the village, having arrived the day before to trade supplies. Agro froze as the first cries of alarm reached his ears.
"What's happening?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Mary grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the edge of the village. "We need to leave. Now."
Agro resisted, his eyes darting toward the flames. "No! We can't just run! What about the others?"
Mary's grip tightened. "Agro, listen to me. We can't fight them. Not here, not like this."
But it was too late. Pride's soldiers swarmed the village, cutting off escape routes and rounding up anyone they could find. Agro's heart pounded as he recognized the crest on their armor—the sigil of the Kingdom of Pride.
"No," he whispered, his hands curling into fists.
Sara rode through the chaos, her face pale as she avoided looking directly at the destruction. Her mother's voice rang out, commanding their forces with ruthless efficiency.
"Take the supplies. Leave nothing behind," Arthea ordered.
Sara's horse slowed as they passed a group of villagers huddled near a burning cottage. Among them, her eyes caught a flash of familiarity.
"Agro," she breathed, her heart sinking.
Agro turned, his gaze locking onto hers. His expression shifted from confusion to anger, his fists clenching at his sides.
"You," he said, his voice low and filled with betrayal.
Sara's breath hitched. She tried to speak, to explain, but no words came. Agro's glare burned into her as the distance between them grew.
Mary grabbed Agro's arm again, pulling him toward the safety of the forest. "We have to go!" she shouted.
Agro didn't resist this time, but his eyes never left Sara's.
As the village fell silent and the soldiers regrouped, Sara dismounted her horse, her legs shaking beneath her. Arthea approached, her expression unreadable.
"It's done," the queen said simply.
Sara didn't respond. She stared at the ground, her mind racing with guilt and fear.
"Come," Arthea said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "This is the cost of being a queen."
Sara pulled away, her voice shaking. "I didn't ask for this."
Arthea's gaze hardened, but she said nothing. Together, they rode away, leaving the smoldering ruins of the village behind.
In the forest, Agro watched the smoke rise in the distance, his jaw set and his eyes filled with resolve.
"This isn't over," he whispered
Mary looked into Agro's eyes, and what she saw made her heart sink. The warmth that once defined her son was gone, replaced by an inferno of hate, fire, and rage. His small fists trembled at his sides, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter.
"Agro," Mary said softly, lowering herself to his eye level. Her voice was calm, but her heart raced as she reached for him. "What's wrong? Talk to me."
Agro's glare didn't waver, his voice low but seething with anger. "Mom… I saw them. Sara and her mother. They were leading the attack."
Mary's hand froze mid-reach, her breath catching in her throat. She had no immediate response. She opened her mouth to speak, but Agro wasn't finished.
"She wasn't just there," he continued, his voice rising with every word. "She was leading them! She stood with her mother and watched as they burned everything. How could she do that?"
Mary sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her voice was heavy. "Son… this is war."
"I know it's war!" Agro shouted, stepping back from her. His small body trembled with frustration. "But she was my friend! Friends don't do this to each other. Friends don't…" His voice cracked, and he looked away, his fists tightening.
Mary placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "Agro, listen to me," she said firmly. "In war, there are no friends—only betrayal."
Agro snapped his head back toward her, his eyes blazing with defiance. "So that's it? Everything's a lie? Every good thing we have doesn't matter because of some stupid war?"
Mary sighed deeply, her heart breaking at the raw pain in his voice. "Agro, it's not that simple. Sara is—"
"Don't!" Agro cut her off, stepping away again. "Don't defend her, Mom. You didn't see her. I did. She didn't hesitate. She didn't care." His voice was thick with bitterness. "She's just like her mother."
Mary's expression softened, and she reached for him again, but Agro turned away. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," he muttered, his shoulders slumping as he started to walk away.
"Agro…" Mary called after him, but he didn't stop. She watched him go, her heart heavy with the knowledge that something in him had changed, perhaps forever.
Back in the Kingdom of Pride, celebrations filled the royal hall. Laughter and cheers echoed through the grand chamber as Queen Arthea raised her goblet high, her voice ringing out over the noise. "Victory!" she declared, her tone regal and triumphant. "Today, we have struck fear into the heart of the Kingdom of Hope. Let this be a reminder of our strength and resolve!"
The room erupted into applause, but Sara sat alone by the window, her gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the castle walls. The cheers and revelry around her felt distant, muffled, as though she were in a world entirely her own.
Arthea approached her daughter, her golden crown gleaming under the chandelier light. "Sara," she said, her voice cutting through the noise, "why aren't you celebrating? We've won!"
Sara didn't turn to face her. Her voice was barely a whisper. "He saw me."
Arthea frowned, taking a step closer. "Who saw you?"
Finally, Sara turned, and the look in her eyes made Arthea pause. There was no pride, no joy—only anger and pain. "Agro," Sara spat. "He saw me. He saw me standing there with you while we attacked his home. His village."
Arthea's expression hardened. "And?" she asked, her tone sharp.
"And?" Sara repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "Do you even care what this means? He's my friend! Do you know what he looked like when he saw me? His eyes…" She paused, her voice trembling. "His eyes were full of hate. He'll never forgive me for this."
Arthea's lips pressed into a thin line. "You're a princess, Sara. You don't have the luxury of worrying about forgiveness. Your duty is to your kingdom."
Sara stood, her fists clenched at her sides. "My duty? Is it my duty to betray my friends? To destroy people's lives?" Her voice cracked with emotion. "You made me do this. You put me on the front lines for your war."
Arthea's gaze didn't waver. "This isn't just my war, Sara. This is our family's legacy. When I was your age, my mother brought me to the battlefield, just as her mother did before her. This is what it means to be royalty."
Sara shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No. You don't get to justify this by calling it tradition. You could have been better. You could have protected me from this." Her voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with betrayal. "I hate you."
Arthea's face remained stoic, but her daughter's words struck a chord. She watched as Sara turned and stormed out of the hall, leaving the queen alone amidst the cheers of victory.
For a moment, Arthea stood in silence, the weight of her daughter's anger pressing down on her. Then, she raised her goblet once more, her voice steady. "To victory," she declared again, though the words now rang hollow.