𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒𝟓

Esmeralda

Oribel Capital, House Aelfdene

"State you business."

"I have an audience with Her Highness." I say monotonously, the simple movement of bowing my head to the High Soldier making me want to throw up. Unlike the guards at Tarak, these goons here aren't familiar with the word 'humour'. No smile, or frown, or any emotion really ever present on their hard faces.

"You may pass." He says, moving aside from the silver doors. The curling copper stars at the top part from one another when the throne room comes into view. It's been years since I came here, and everything has changed. The decor is still the same. A rainfall of broken crystals illuminating the room, black marble floor with specks of melted gold. I keep my head down per usual custom as I approach the two thrones at the far front of the hall. The incoming sun coming from the large window behind them giving them an unearthly glow.

As I arrive as close as allowed, intending to bow when the strong voice of my Queen stops me.

"There's no need for you to bow, Esmeralda. You must be careful now that you carry life." Right, I remember at the sad tone of her voice, looking up to her astonishing features. Dark mahogany red hair falls over her shoulders in soft waves. Her fair porcelain skin and large deep-set emerald eyes see through me like an open book. Mesmerised by her, I almost forget to pay my respects to the King. Making sure to not look him in the eyes, just like our Holy Scripts teaches us to, I bow my head to the Original. His ghostly appearance never failing to creep me out.

Back during the times where the Heaven Realm decided who to appoint for the creation of each House, God Sol decided to appoint his four daughters to the task. One daughter in charge of each House. And that's why our King's hair is whiter than the fist snowfall. His golden eyes calmer than the time before the deadliest storms. A golden emblem carved on his forehead. The first born Original, a being close to immortal thanks to the fragment of her soul the Goddess of Dawn gave him.

Hesitation takes over the more I think about it. If my assumptions are correct, t-then that would mean...

"What is it, my child, that seems to weight so heavy on your mind?" Her gentle voice urges me to speak up.

"I have an urgent matter to report back from Tarak. It's about that."

Immediately, her facial expression grows serious, and all it takes is placing her hand on her husband's arm for him to disappear. My entire life here, I've never heard him speak. The only ones who heard King Lucien talk are either the very few people he lets into his heart, or his love. And yet, his blank expression gives off the same lethal vibes as that smile King Ciaran has most of the time. My shoulders slump back when he's gone, because unlike him, the Queen isn't someone to care for ethics or rank. Another thing she shares with Pandora.

"Tell me, is it them?" Them, the ones that installed such fear in her that she send me to Tarak to report any suspicious activities that were out of order. Infiltrate the Palace at Mage, stay put for ten years, and come back home. That was the plan. Azef was never meant to be any part of it. Which is why I purposely leave him out of all this. This isn't his world, after all.

"Yes. The King recognises the silver eyes and silver hair, although he's not the kind to care for what they are."

"Of course he isn't," she mumbles to herself, standing up from her seat to approach me.

"Even back then, Messiah was never one to care for anything, as long as it didn't bother him."

I stay quiet for a moment, my heart struggling to agree with my mind. If I'm wrong about this, even if it's her, I don't know what she'll do. My frown doesn't doesn't bypass her, a kind smile on her lips when she asks: