"I am innocent!"
Her plea barely carried past her lips, swallowed by the vastness of the court. The words did not echo, did not shake the air—as if even the stone walls refused to believe them.
She did not know winter could be this cruel, so cruel that it could freeze one's soul.
In the kingdom called Frosthearth, the cold was not just a season here. It was a predator, a merciless beast that swallowed the weak as a whole. The wind screamed through the lofty spires outside, and although it was warm indoors, the icy gazes and their chill hearts felt even worse.
She had crossed a land of death to be here—an endless stretch of jungle so large and dangerous that no one who entered ever returned. And then the frozen land where the snow piled like dunes in a lifeless desert.
'And for what? To stand here in chains?' Meribella thought.
The court of the Crimson Crown surrounded her. A grotesque hall of dark stone and long pillars that extended upward like the outstretched cursed hand. The ceiling stretched high above, creating a sense of openness that should have made her feel unburdened. On the contrary, it felt heavy on her shoulders, as if the room was closing in on her.
At the very heart of it all, the throne stood above them all. It was crafted from obsidian and decorated with golden veins, compelling all to gaze upward at where King Godric, the Crimson Crown, sat.
His face looked hard like stone, and his eyes were as cold as the ice outside. There was no mercy in his gaze, only a quiet, calculating look. It looked like he had already decided her fate before she even spoke.
To the King's left and to his right, the ministers sat like carrion birds. Some showed amusement, while others looked pleased. Some grinned, and others watched calmly, like they were waiting for a meal.
In the pool of that apprehension, Crown Prince Edwyn's face felt odd.
Unlike the others, his expression was not one of cruelty nor satisfaction—but something else.
Concern?
His blue eyes, resembling a stunning clear blue lake, held something unreadable.
Is he worried for her? Or is he worried about his reputation? Those thoughts unsettled Meribella more than the smirking faces of his father's ministers.
She stood there with thick iron chains bound to her wrists and ankles among the people who would decide her fate. It was a cruel reminder of what she had become.
She was the crown princess, and now?
A prisoner? A traitor?
"Father..." Crown Prince Edwyn attempted to say something before he quickly corrected himself. "My King, why don't we discuss prisoner Meribella Faye in the chamber and then proceed with a fair trial to prove if she is innocent or not?"
Edwyn hoped to speak with Meribella privately before the trial commenced. Had he known she would be foolish enough to bravely stroll inside the palace today, blissfully ignoring the danger she would face, he would have prevented her from entering the palace gates.
Meribella's black dress, torn and dirtied, clung to her frail frame. Her light honey-brown hair, dishevelled and tangled, cascaded down to her hips.
Her forehead bore bruises, dark reminders of the hands that had struck her down. Her feet ached, her bare skin peeking through torn footwear, barely protecting her from the cold stone beneath. Her lips were cracked, her skin pale from hunger, and her body weakened by days of hardship.
Duke Roland Halbrecht spoke, interrupting before the King could favour Edwyn's words.
"My King, if I may take your permission, I would like to speak on behalf of the ministers and council members."
The King nodded, granting him permission.
"The traitor, Meribella Faye—"
"Don't call me a traitor until proven!" Meribella's voice rang louder this time, making sure each and every person heard her clearly.
Though she felt alone in the ruthless court filled with people, there was one person who stood for her—herself. If no one else would defend her, she would stand up for herself and protect her and her family's honour. Her father, mother and the younger sister's fate depended on this trial and…
Oh! How much she misses her parents, her village Brindlewood and the simple joy of scattering grains for the birds who always visit her veranda.
Standing tall, a smirk played across the Duke's lips as his eyes dragged over her from head to toe. He stepped down from the stairs where his seat was placed, still below the throne to the right, and walked around her, scanning her like a merchant inspecting damaged goods.
"Your Majesty, all the ministers and the council members are present here." Duke bowed courteously toward the throne before continuing, "This sacred court has long been the pillar of justice, where you have given countless righteous decisions for the kingdom and the lands governed under the Crimson Crown. I see no need for further discussion behind closed doors when we all witnessed the incident that took place a month ago."
He stopped just behind her, his presence looming over her like a vulture's shadow.
"It is only fair that there be no bias in this matter. After all, we worry that the Crown Prince's broken heart will seek a way to protect the prisoner Meribella, given their… history."
A murmur spread through the court, and Edwyn's expression darkened.
It was a direct challenge to his authority—a suggestion that his emotions could compromise his duty.
Heat flared beneath his skin, anger coiling tightly in his chest. His loyalty had never been in question before, yet now, the Duke—a man who had constantly tested his patience, a man who had schemed for years to become the most trusted ally of the king and to place his own daughter as a crown princess to have control over the throne—was now making a spectacle of him, the crown prince. A carefully planned attack in front of the court, in front of the King.
Edwyn had spent years proving his worth, honing his skills, and fighting battles both in the field and in the court to ensure his place on the throne. He had never once allowed emotion to guide his actions. And now…..?
He was being painted as a weak prince blinded by love?
His jaw tightened, fingers curling into a fist.
"I did not know that I was the one on trial here, Duke Halbrecht." Edwyn's voice was frigid, his posture straightening as he sat forward.
His blue eyes locked onto Meribella's for the briefest moment before he spoke his next words, ensuring the entire court heard them.
"If prisoner Meribella Faye is proven guilty, I shall be the one to sever her head from her shoulders in front of everyone today."
The chamber fell into a deadly silence.
But for Meribella, it felt as if a storm had swept through her, taking everything she held dear. Her heart ached with a deep, gnawing pain. The words of the Crown Prince pierced her soul and shattered the bravery she had clung to for so long, making tears spill unending.
She cursed the day she met him. The memory burned at the edges of her mind. It was rolling forward, mocking her.
A single month ago, she had stepped willingly into the path of ruin, unaware of the disaster that had already been waiting for her.....
On the most auspicious day, the grand church carried the sweet scent of freshly bloomed lilies. Their fragrance was clinging to the stone walls like a silent blessing.
Hundreds of candles flickered, casting soft golden light that danced across the polished floors and colourful stained-glass windows.
On one side, the nobles and royals sat in elegant rows, their silken robes gleaming under the warm glow. Their expressions, however, were anything but welcoming—cold, unreadable and their whispers barely concealed behind jewelled fans.
Across from them, the villagers and fallen nobility gathered their simple garments a stark contrast to the wealth around them. Yet their faces held something the others lacked—genuine warmth and quiet hope.
"I cannot fathom how the King allowed such a disgrace," whispered a woman draped in emerald silk, shielding her lips behind her fan as though the very words were scandalous.
"It wasn't the King," another woman murmured, her voice barely above a sigh. "They say the Crown Prince himself insisted on this… alliance."
Gasps fluttered through those seated nearby and their ears stretched to catch every syllable.
At the front, Queen Elisabeth the Crimson Crown sat still, her spine straight, her gloved hands folded in her lap.
She had heard every word.
Her face was calm, her expression carefully schooled, but beneath it lay barely restrained fury.
"The Queen and the princesses were outraged," the first woman continued, leaning in slightly. "And can you blame them? The Crimson Crown has never bowed to anyone—let alone to a girl of a fallen house." She placed emphasis on the word fallen as though it was something vile.
Another woman, unable to resist, leaned forward. "Have you heard the whispers?" Her voice dropped lower, eyes darting around as if the walls themselves might be listening. "They say she bewitched the Crown Prince."
Although many have not expressed their disapproval to the king directly, it does not imply that they were not furious upon receiving an invitation to the royal Crown Prince's wedding to Meribella Faye, daughter of Harald Faye, a fallen noble residing in a modest cottage in the small village of Brindlewood.
Many noble families had daughters of suitable marrying age. Their daughters eagerly waited for the right moment to capture the crown prince's interest in many social gatherings.
But the notion of him marrying someone from a fallen noble felt like an affront to their dignity and social position. It challenged many established Nobel beliefs, regulations, and their hierarchy structure.
The third woman continued their current scandalous conversation. "Some travellers saw her deep in the forests, her hands and dress soaked in blood, her eyes glowing red under the moonlight."
A cold shiver passed through those who listened.
"They fled away from the sight in fear of becoming the next sacred fices." The woman inhaled deeply and slowly, attempting to soothe her pounding heart due to fear. "They..they claimed she was amid dark rituals."
"A witch?" the second woman hissed, clutching her pearls as though the accusation might summon a curse. "Shouldn't she be facing flames instead of welcomed into the royal family?"
"That is the problem," the third woman murmured, unease slipping into her voice. "The villagers worship her. They would protect her with their lives. Whatever spell she cast, it holds them all in its grasp."
She exhaled, glancing around as though afraid of what she was about to say next. "Two merchants from Riverbendale claimed they saw something disturbing." And another hush fell over the group.
She continued her voice barely a whisper but potent enough to draw the attention of those nearby.
"On their return, they grew thirsty and spotted a small cottage nearby. As they came closer to request some water, they found Meribella was outside, feeding the birds. At first, she gave them a disdainful look before going inside to get a bottle of water for them."
The two women, with their curiosity, leaned more forward to hear her clear.
"The merchants were thankful for her kindness," the third woman continued, her tone now threaded with mockery. "One of them uncorked the bottle for a drink. Rather than experiencing a refreshing coolness to relieve his thirst, he encountered a metallic flavour—similar to iron. Startled, he spat it out, and when he looked at the liquid, it wasn't clear—it was red."
A collective gasp swept across the nobles who were listening to the conversation.
"Blood?"
The woman nodded. "They ran back to her cottage, shouting for the villagers to witness her cruelty with proof. But the villagers denied it—dismissed them, said exhaustion had made them see things. Even when the bottle still held red liquid, they ignored it. They insisted it was a mistake, saying someone must have played a cruel prank, and the merchants had mixed up the cottages since many in the area look alike.
She continued with a scoff, "The villagers, treat her as though she's an angel who had descended upon earth to protect them. To them, she can do no wrong." She frowned, "But isn't that what makes her so dangerous?"
"A witch?" Queen Elisabeth muttered under her breath, the words clawing at her mind.
How had such rumours escaped her notice until now? The Queen pondered. If she had known it before, she could have put an end to this charade. But now—now, it was too late. The eyes of the other kingdoms were upon them, and any interruption would bring scandal.
She bowed her head, lips moving in a silent prayer. 'Holy Father,' she prayed, closing her eyes. 'Protect my family. Protect this empire. Let this unholy union unravel before it's too late.'
And then the bells tolled, their deep, sonorous chimes echoed across the small town. Everyone present went silent.
Through the open, heavy wooden doors, the bride appeared.
She stepped through the threshold. The path bathed in sunlight. Her face was hidden under the veil that shimmered like moonlight against the golden light that streamed from the cathedral's windows.
Meribella's ivory fishtail dress hugged her thin frame, and delicate lace outlined the shape of her body, looking as if it were made by maidens of heaven. A bouquet of soft, fragrant lilies rested in her hands, like the moment itself.
Though her face remained hidden beneath the veil, every eye was upon her.
Far beyond the church walls, the sound of hooves thundered against the hardened ground.
Seven riders raced toward Brindlewood, their blood-red cloaks billowing behind them like banners of war. Their faces remained concealed beneath deep hoods.
Dust rose, swirling and clinging to the air as if trying to drag riders back. They rode with purpose and urgency as if they could not delay any longer.
Although their faces remained hidden beneath deep hoods, something about them—something about the way they moved—sent unease creeping into the very land they crossed.
But it was not just the riders that unsettled the air.
Their horses—black as midnight, with eyes as burning as embers, sent a ripple of fear through the silence. They were not simple horses. They were beasts bred for war.
But who are they?
Guardians or destructors?