The grand ballroom was empty, save for one figure. Elara moved gracefully across the polished floor, her silver hair flowing like a shimmering cascade behind her. Her bare feet made no sound as they glided over the gleaming surface, the hem of her lavender gown swirling around her like a cloud. She twirled and stepped in perfect rhythm to the soft melody she hummed, her voice as delicate as the petals of a blooming flower.
The ballroom was elegant, with high, arched ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes of mythical creatures and golden chandeliers casting a warm glow. The floor, a mosaic of ivory and obsidian tiles, reflected the light streaming through the tall windows. It was meant for grand gatherings and lively celebrations, yet it was her sanctuary tonight.
Elara danced not for an audience but for herself, seeking solace in the gentle movements. Her mind was a storm of frustration, thoughts of Lord Eirik and his arrogant confidence gnawing at her patience. She knew cursing her suitors was unbecoming, and she despised how easily they stirred her emotions. The dance was her escape, a moment to reclaim her tranquility.
As she spun, her humming filled the vast space, her voice carrying a haunting and beautiful melody. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be lost in the rhythm. For a brief moment, she felt free—unburdened by the weight of expectations and the constant attention of men who sought her favor.
The sound of the ballroom doors creaking open pulled her from her reverie. Startled, she paused mid-step and turned to see a young maid standing hesitantly in the doorway. The girl, barely older than sixteen, curtsied quickly, her cheeks flushed.
"My lady," the maid said, her voice soft and apologetic. "Your mother requests your presence. She wishes to speak with you."
Elara's expression softened. "Thank you, Greta. Tell her I'll be there shortly."
The maid curtsied again and hurried off, leaving Elara alone once more. She sighed, her mood shifting from irritation to resignation. Her mother rarely summoned her for trivial matters, and Elara respected her enough to heed her requests without delay. Still, she lingered for a few more minutes, allowing herself the indulgence of finishing the melody she had been humming.
When the final note faded into stillness, she gathered herself and made her way to her mother's quarters. The journey through the quiet halls of the manor was familiar, each step echoing faintly against the stone walls adorned with tapestries of serene landscapes and mythical beasts. Elara's frustration ebbed away, replaced by a sense of anticipation. Her mother—Lady Lysanna—was one of the few people in the world who truly understood her.
Lady Lysanna's sitting room was warm and inviting, filled with soft hues and the faint scent of lavender. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, illuminating the elegant furniture and the collection of books lining the shelves. A small table was set with fine porcelain tea cups and a teapot emitting delicate wisps of steam.
Lysanna sat by the window, her gentle features framed by soft curls of auburn hair. Her eyes, a kind and warm hazel, lit up when Elara entered the room. She rose gracefully, her silk gown rustling softly as she moved to embrace her daughter.
"Elara, my dear," she said, her voice soothingly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Elara returned the embrace, her tension melting away. "Of course not, Mother. I was just… keeping myself occupied."
Lysanna smiled knowingly. "Dancing again, were you? I could hear your lovely voice even from here. You've always had such a gift for music."
Elara blushed faintly but didn't deny it. She allowed her mother to guide her to the table, where they both sat. Lysanna poured the tea with practiced elegance, the fragrant liquid filling their cups.
"How has your day been, my dear?" Lysanna asked, her tone light yet full of genuine interest.
Elara sighed, her fingers tracing the delicate floral pattern on her teacup. "It's been… trying. Lord Eirik paid me a visit."
Lysanna chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, Lord Eirik. That sounds like a typical day for you."
"He's insufferable," Elara said, her frustration bubbling. "So arrogant and self-assured, as if he's doing me some grand favor by seeking my attention. I told him I'd stab him if I were still a unicorn."
Her mother's laughter rang out, light and melodic. "Oh, Elara. You never cease to amuse me. Poor Lord Eirik must be quite flustered."
Elara frowned, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "He wasn't flustered. He laughed and said being stabbed by a unicorn would be an honor. Can you believe that?"
Lysanna's laughter softened into a fond smile. "Perhaps he finds your spirit refreshing. You do have a way of leaving an impression on people, my dear. Not every man would dare to approach someone as formidable as you."
"Formidable?" Elara raised an eyebrow. "That's a polite way of saying 'difficult,' isn't it?"
"Not at all," Lysanna said gently. "You are strong, Elara. Stronger than you realize. But that strength can be intimidating to those who don't understand it. Undoubtedly, those who truly care for you will see past your thorns."
Elara's expression softened, and she sipped her tea thoughtfully. "You always know what to say, Mother. I wish I had your patience and kindness. I… I don't want to be like this; I'm always angry and guarded. But it's hard."
Lysanna reached across the table, her hand warm and reassuring as it covered Elara's. "My dear, you've been through so much. It's only natural to feel this way. But don't let your past define you. You have a kind heart, even if you don't always show it. Give yourself time to heal."
Elara looked into her mother's eyes, finding comfort and strength in their unwavering warmth. She nodded slowly, her resolve bolstered by her mother's words. "Thank you, Mother. I'll try."
They spent the rest of their tea time in companionable conversation, Lysanna sharing stories of her youth and the lessons she had learned. The warmth of her presence and the soothing cadence of her voice were a balm to Elara's restless spirit.
As the tea grew cold and the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light across the room, Lysanna finally rose from her seat. "I'm glad we had this time together, my dear. You know you can always come to me, no matter what troubles you."
Elara stood as well, embracing her mother tightly. "I know, Mother. Thank you."
With a parting smile, Lysanna watched Elara leave the room, her silver hair catching the fading sunlight like a halo. As she walked back through the quiet halls, Elara's thoughts were no longer clouded by frustration. Her mother's wisdom had given her a renewed sense of clarity and determination.
The day was far from over, and challenges were yet to face. But for now, Elara felt a glimmer of peace, a reminder that she was not alone in her journey.