It was a night of glinting chandeliers and rustling silk, as the grand ballroom of the kingdom's palace came alive with the sounds of thumping dance feet's, a sea of color and movement. The sounds of merriments and revelry could be heard far away.
Ladies and gentlemen could be seen in their finest clothing: dancing and engaging in endless, conversation as the sweet strains of orchestra accompanied them.
The heart of it all stood the queen, her head held admist the chatters that swirled around her. She was a picture of grace and elegance, her gown shimmering in the light of the chandeliers.
Suddenly the herald's voice rang out commanding attention " make way for his majesty, king Aldwin".
The crowd parted as the kind entered, flanked by his courtiers. The clastter of armor echoed through the ballroom as the king stride confidently towards the center, his royal silver cloak billowing behind him, its fine fabric catching the lights of the chandeliers as his gaze never left the mysterious beauty at his side her dresss was a stunning contrast to the queen's modest gown. The whispers of scandal and awe rising like a tide around them
As the king approched, a fleeting flicker of pain and shock danced across the queen's features, threatening to undermine her regal mask. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, her poise wavering like a candle flame in a breeze
But years of royal training swiftly kicked in and she schooled her expression into a Serene facade. Her smile, once again fixed in place, seemed almost genuine as she curtised to the king and his lover.
The queen curtsied, her smile as icy as the diamonds adorning her hair, as her gaze lingered on the woman's hand that held the king. She raised her head, meeting the lover's probing gaze with a regal and composed stare, before turning to greet her other guests
As she left, the king could be seen whispering something into the lover's ear before leading her towards the center of the ballroom: an intention to share the first dance
Usually the first dance was reserved for the queen and the king but looking at the king, it could be seen he had no intention of adhering to the traditions
With a flourish, the king twirled his lover aroun d the floo, his smile relishing the scandalous attention their dance was causing. His lover, wrapped in his arms, smiled demurely, reveling in the various glances of envy, disapproval or curiosity that came their way.
Across the ballroom,the queen held court, her demeanor unruffled by the scandalous dance unfolding before her. Most praised her ability to still remain calm at such a provocation but only she knew the truth: she could not slip up, her emotions had to be kept in check for she was, after all the Queen.
Amidst the throng of well-wishers and gossips, a courtier approached, her eyes blaxing with anger and sadness.
"Your majesty" she began, after a quick curtsy. "You cannot simply sit her and allow the king to humiliate you" she whispered fiercely, her voice barely audible over the din of the crowd
"How could you curtsy to them?!" She continuesd her indignation palpable "you should have publicly rebuked them or better still, ripped that lover to shreds. Or would you have me do it for you?" She asked, her hands clenched to a fist, as if ready to take action.
"You would do no such thing," the queen quickly intervened, grasping Lizzy's hand and gently pulling her back.
Lizzy, her loyal personal maid, had been by her side for years. The queen's heart still ached when she recalled the day they met - Lizzy, a young girl begging for food, her eyes sparkling with desperation as she held on to her gown asking for nothing but a copper. On impulse, she had asked the girl to follow her, expecting refusal. But Lizzy's response had been caught her off guard: "I'll follow you for the rest of my life!." And so, they had remained together, a bond forged in trust and loyalty.
Lizzy's face reddened with anger "why not" she demanded her voice low but fiery. "If I had my way, I'd march right up to that man, rip off his robe and give him a slap to knock some sense into him!" Her outspokenness was a double-edged sword — a refreshing trait that could also prove be deadly if not controlled
"Lizzy!" the queen cautioned, her voice laced with worry. "Do not say such things. If anyone had heard you, you would have been executed." She glanced around nervously, ensuring they remained unnoticed.
"I do not care," Lizzy replied, her tone defiant.
"But I do," the queen quickly added, her expression softening.
"My queen," Lizzy whispered, her voice filled with emotion as she reached out and gently touched the queen's hand. The queen's concern had touched her heart.
"Quickly, go and attend to matters that need attention," the queen urged, her eyes locked on Lizzy's, ensuring she understood the gravity of the situation.
With Lizzy gone, the queen returned her attention to the ballroom, her eyes landing on the pair the dancing pair. A sharp pain filling her heart, a bitter reminder of how she had been a fool to trust her husband, to believe that his promises to end the affair were sincere. Now she wished for nothing the night to be over soon
As the night wore on, the queen held court with unwavering poise and grace. Her smile remained steadfast and unbroken even as she received the guest alone . The weight of the court's gaze settled upon her, — watching, waiting, anticipating and even guessing her reaction. Yet she gave them nothing, her mask unshaken.
As the king and his lover disappeared into the night, the queen's gaze lingered on the empty space they left behind. Her chest rose and fell with a silent sigh, a surrender of her stoicism. The music, too, came to an end, its last note disappearing into the night as the guests, sensing the evening's conclusion began to retire to their homes
The queen's throne, once a symbol of her power, now felt like a prison. She rose from it, her gown rustling softly as she glided to the window. The darkness outside was a mirror to her soul – a vast, endless expanse of shadows that seemed to swallow all light.
In that moment, the queen felt the weight of her crown, the crushing pressure of her duty, and the suffocating grip of her husband's indifference. Unable to keep up the facade of regal poise any longer, she let out a primal scream that echoed through the nights, releasing the pent-up anger and pain.
When her sobs finally subsided a sound reached her ears, a familiar footfall coming down the hall towards the ballroom. She straightened, her usual serenity returning almost immediately. The door opened, revealing the face of the man she never expected to see, his face an impassive mask contrary to the warm smile he had worn at the ball.
Watching as he approached her, she gave him a quick curtsy before her gaze fixed on him. "May I ask what brings you here?" she questioned, her composure intact, as if the emotional storm that had ravaged her just moments before had never occurred.
The king's gaze lingered on her, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his eyes. 'Why does she still seem so calm and composed?' he wondered. "What do you mean? Is this not my home?" A slight smile played on his lips as he responded.
She scoffs lightly unable to hide the disdain in her eyes at his words "forgive me I did not know you thought of this place as your home" she ridiculed
"Of course this is where my people are and most importantly this is where my queen is" he replied shamelessly and naturally, paying no heed to her ridicule.
The words 'my queen' struck a cord in her heart. He hardly ever addressed her like that.
But she knew it was all a facade. "Your queen?" she repeated her eyes narrowed and her voice laced with venom. "You've never referred to me as such, not with any sincerity, at least."
The king's smile faltered, and for a moment, the queen saw a glimmer of uncertainty. But it was quickly replaced by his usual arrogance.
"You brought your lover to the ball, didn't you?" the queen spat, her voice low and deadly. "You paraded her in front of me, in front of our guests, without any regard for my feelings."
The king's expression darkened, and he took a step back, as if retreating from the queen's anger.
"You promised me you'd end it," the queen continued, her voice trembling with rage.
The king's expression changed, and he let out a cold, mirthless laugh "You actually believed me?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "You thought I'd give up Haylee, just because you demanded it?"
The queen's face fell, her eyes filled with pain and shock. "You promised," she whispered, barely audible, as if she was speaking to herself in a desperate attempt to cling to a shattered hope.
His laughter grew louder, and he took a step closer to the queen, his hands pinching her chin, making her look him in the yes. "I'll never let Haylee go," he sneered. "She's mine, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her. You'd do well to understand that, and you best accept it."
As he released her chin and turned to leave, the queen's expression crumpled, and she felt a stinging sensation in her eyes. She took a step forward, her hand reaching out to grab his arm. "Wait," she called out, her voice trembling.
But he was unforgiving. He swatted her hand away, his eyes flashing with anger. "Don't touch me," he growled, shoving her backward.
The queen stumbled, her heels slipping on the polished floor. She fell hard, her skirts billowing around her. She looked up, tears streaming down her face, as the king turned and walked away, leaving her lying there, alone and broken.