Alice entered the grand dining hall of King Ragnar's castle with her usual lack of decorum, her dark clothing and casual stride clashing with the regal atmosphere of the room. The hall was magnificent, with walls adorned with intricate tapestries, golden chandeliers, and long tables covered in pristine white tablecloths. She greeted the king casually, much to the astonishment of the staff and Lyanna, who stood by his side.
"Evening, Your Majesty," Alice said nonchalantly, plopping down into her chair and propping her legs up on the armrest.
King Ragnar raised an amused brow. "Quite bold, aren't you?"
Alice smirked. "Bold? Nah, just comfortable."
The king chuckled, clearly entertained by her antics. Lyanna, however, looked less amused. She stood stiffly beside the king, her expression a mask of polite disdain.
"Alice," the king said, gesturing to Lyanna, "you've met my assistant, haven't you? She's an invaluable part of this castle and takes care of many things—including my sick wife."
Alice straightened slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Sick wife? I didn't know you had a wife, let alone that she was unwell."
The king's face softened. "Yes. She's been ill for a long time now. Lyanna has been a tremendous help in looking after her."
Alice glanced at Lyanna, noting the slight smirk tugging at her lips. Something about her presence felt off, but Alice let it slide.
The king clapped his hands, breaking the tension. "Enough talk. Let's eat!"
Servants entered carrying trays piled high with a variety of delicacies. Roasted meats, golden pastries, vibrant fruits, and steaming bowls of soup were laid out before Alice. The aroma was heavenly.
"Wow," Alice muttered, her eyes wide. Without waiting for an invitation, she grabbed a plate and began piling it with food.
The king roared with laughter. "Now this is refreshing! I haven't seen anyone dig in with such enthusiasm in years."
Alice shrugged, taking a bite of roasted meat. "It's not every day I get to eat like this. You've outdone yourself, Your Majesty."
Lyanna's expression darkened as she watched Alice devour her food with zero concern for etiquette. She clenched her fists but said nothing.
As the meal progressed, the king turned to a nearby servant. "Go fetch my son. Tell him his presence is required."
The servant bowed and left, returning moments later looking nervous. "Your Majesty, the prince has refused to come."
King Ragnar's jovial expression disappeared, replaced by a cold glare. "Refused, has he?" He leaned back in his chair, his tone icy. "Tell him if he doesn't come, I'll ban him from visiting his mother. Let's see how he feels about that."
The servant hurried off, and not long after, Demian entered the hall, his posture stiff and his face set in a scowl. He shot his father a look of defiance before his gaze landed on Alice.
"What is she doing here?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation.
Alice smirked. "Nice to see you too, Demian."
"She's my guest," the king interjected. "Now sit."
Demian reluctantly took a seat across from Alice, glaring at her the entire time.
As the meal continued, it didn't take long for the tension between Alice and Demian to boil over.
"You're out of place here," Demian said, narrowing his eyes at Alice.
Alice didn't miss a beat. "And yet, here I am. Funny how that works."
"You don't belong in this world," he snapped, his voice rising.
"Neither do you, with that attitude," she shot back, meeting his glare with one of her own.
"Enough," the king said sharply, silencing them both. "Demian, you will show Alice around the castle after dinner. No arguments."
Demian's jaw clenched, but he nodded stiffly.
After dinner, Demian led Alice through the castle, his annoyance clear in every step. "This is the west wing," he said flatly. "Nothing interesting here."
Alice ignored his tone, her eyes taking in the grandeur around her. "You're a terrible tour guide, you know that?"
"Maybe I wouldn't be if I didn't have to babysit you," he muttered.
They continued walking until they reached a hallway that felt different. It was quieter, darker, and carried a sense of mystery. At the end of the corridor stood a large, ornate door with a shimmering barrier in front of it.
Alice stopped, her curiosity piqued. "What's behind that door?"
Demian's expression darkened. "It's none of your business."
Alice tilted her head, undeterred. "Come on. Tell me."
Demian hesitated, then sighed. "It's my mother's room."
Alice's eyes widened. "Your mother? Why does it have a barrier?"
"To protect her," Demian replied, his voice softer now. "She's... special."
Alice felt a pang of sympathy. "Can I see her?"
Demian looked at her, surprised by the sincerity in her voice. After a moment's hesitation, he deactivated the barrier and opened the door.
Inside the room, the air felt warm and soothing. A beautiful woman lay on a grand bed, her fiery red hair glowing faintly in the dim light. Her skin shimmered with a golden hue, and even in her weakened state, she radiated an aura of immense power.
Alice's breath caught in her throat. "She's... beautiful."
"She's a phoenix," Demian said quietly, his voice filled with both pride and sorrow.
Alice stepped closer, captivated by the queen's presence. "I didn't know phoenixes were real."
Demian gave a bitter laugh. "There's a lot you don't know."
Alice turned to him, her curiosity growing. "Why is she sick?"
Demian's expression darkened. "That's a story for another time."
As Alice looked back at the queen, she couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was more significant than she realized. Something about the queen's presence felt familiar, almost comforting.