The castle halls were dimly lit, the somber atmosphere pressing into every stone and whispering through every torch flame. Mourning cloaked the kingdom, but life moved on — quietly, carefully.
Freya made her way toward the room assigned to her when she caught sight of a familiar figure ahead — Princess Elara.
For a moment, Freya considered simply nodding and walking past, but Elara noticed her too, and to Freya's mild surprise, called out, "You must be finding it strange here. Castles aren't usually kind to outsiders."
Her tone wasn't sharp exactly — but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it, like she was testing how Freya would react.
Freya paused, holding her calm.
"I've lived among worse things than cold stones and cold stares, Your Highness," she said coolly, her voice smooth but edged with quiet truth. "At least stones don't pretend to be welcoming."
Elara blinked, her mouth parting slightly in offense before pressing shut again.
Without waiting for a response, Freya gave a polite nod and turned away, heading toward her room with slow, steady steps.
Elara remained standing there, a quiet storm brewing inside her chest. Yet, oddly, she found herself… not angry, but unsettled.
Elsewhere in the castle...
Prince Ronan walked down a side hall, deep in quiet conversation with Kael.
"I still don't know why Father insists I take the crown," Ronan muttered. "Alaric has an heir, even if she's just a babe."
Kael gave a low chuckle. "Because the council wants strength, not a cradle prince. You're not perfect, Ronan, but you're battle-tested — and people respect that."
Before Ronan could reply, Elara rounded the corner — straight into them.
"Interrupting something important?" she asked, lifting a brow, her arms crossed loosely in front of her. There was a playful glint to her voice this time, a sharp contrast to the earlier tension with Freya.
Kael laughed, stepping back. "I'll leave you two to it," he said smoothly, giving Ronan a brief nod before slipping away.
For a moment, Elara and Ronan stood there in a rare, easy silence.
"You should be careful," Elara said lightly. "If you're not careful, Kael might steal your crown right from under you."
Ronan barked a small laugh. "Maybe he should. He'd probably enjoy it more."
They began to walk together through the quieter halls, their steps unhurried. Elara found herself relaxing, the sharpness inside her dulling just a little.
"You don't seem very eager to be king," she observed.
"Would you be?" Ronan shot her a sideways glance. "All the duty, none of the freedom."
Elara considered it, then shrugged. "Maybe. But someone has to do it. Better someone with a conscience than someone hungry for power."
Ronan smiled, a real one this time. "Then maybe you should wear the crown instead."
Elara laughed — a real, soft laugh — and for a moment, under the mourning sky, it felt like the world hadn't ended after all.