Love between war

✧══════════════════════✧Chapter TwoThe Princess No One Wanted 🥀👑

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"You are useless."

The words did not echo like a shout.

They landed like a verdict.

Cold.

Final.

Familiar.

For a moment—

Silence spread across the chamber.

Heavy.

Suffocating.

And then—

Crack!

The sharp sound of leather slicing through the air shattered the silence.

"Aaah—!"

A young woman's cry echoed against the marble walls.

The sound bounced through the magnificent chamber, as if the palace itself refused to absorb her pain.

Her knees gave way.

Thud.

She collapsed onto the cold floor.

The marble beneath her was icy.

Merciless.

It felt as though winter itself had been carved into stone.

Her body trembled violently.

Instinctively, she curled inward, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to shield her fragile body from the pain.

But pain...

Had long ago become her companion.

Her name was—

Aria Vale.

Twenty years old.

A princess by blood.

But never by love.

Her long red hair clung to her tear-stained cheeks.

Messy.

Untamed.

Her breathing trembled.

"Haa..."

"Haa..."

Tears slid silently from the corners of her deep green eyes.

Eyes that once sparkled with innocent dreams.

Eyes that once searched for affection.

Now—

They searched only for mercy.

But mercy had never lived inside this palace.

Never.

Standing before her—

Prince Alan Vale.

Tall.

Elegant.

Perfect.

Golden embroidery shimmered upon his royal robes.

His blond hair was neatly arranged.

Not a single strand out of place.

A delicate crown rested upon his head.

At twenty-three years old—

He was admired throughout kingdoms.

A prince blessed by heaven.

Intelligent.

Handsome.

Destined to rule.

Yet to Aria—

He was terrifying.

Because behind those handsome features...

Lived a heart colder than winter.

His blue eyes looked at her with nothing but disgust.

"Why are you still breathing?" Alan asked calmly.

His voice was gentle.

Too gentle.

As though discussing a broken vase.

"I thought even fate would have erased you by now."

Aria's lips trembled.

She lowered her eyes.

"I..."

But her voice disappeared.

Swallowed by fear.

Alan frowned slightly.

"Do not speak."

Shk...

Shk...

The leather belt shifted in his hand.

A simple sound.

Yet to Aria—

It sounded like death.

Her shoulders trembled.

She instinctively moved backward.

Not because she understood everything.

But because she understood enough.

Her mind drifted.

Like fragile leaves carried by cold wind.

Words she had heard countless times.

Burden.

Mistake.

Why did she survive?

Useless princess.

Why indeed?

Why was she born?

Aria lowered her gaze.

A bitter smile appeared on her pale lips.

If she was truly unwanted...

Why had fate allowed her to live?

Crack!

"Aah!"

Pain exploded across her back.

Her fingers immediately clawed at the cold marble floor.

Her breathing shattered.

"Haa..."

"Haa..."

Tears rolled silently.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Only quietly.

As they always did.

Alan stared down at her.

Unmoved.

Bored.

As if her suffering had already become ordinary.

"Pathetic."

He raised his hand again—

Knock.

The chamber doors opened.

A royal butler entered and bowed deeply.

"Your Highness."

"His Majesty requests your presence."

"Urgent matters regarding the kingdom."

Alan slowly lowered his hand.

A trace of annoyance crossed his face.

"Another interruption."

He glanced at Aria one final time.

She remained on the floor.

Curled into herself.

Barely moving.

Not important.

Not valuable.

Just...

There.

The belt slipped from his hand.

Thud.

He turned around.

Without hesitation.

Without regret.

"Take care of this."

And then—

He left.

THUD!

The chamber doors closed.

Silence.

Only Aria's soft breathing remained.

Weak.

Uneven.

Fragile.

Minutes passed.

Or perhaps hours.

Time inside this palace had never felt real.

Tap...

Tap...

Tap...

The door opened.

Two maids entered.

Lady Fina sighed.

"Again?"

Lady Cala folded her arms.

"This is becoming routine."

Aria heard every word.

Clearly.

But she did not react.

Because reacting...

Had never changed anything.

The maids lifted her.

Not gently.

Not cruelly.

Simply—

Without emotion.

Like moving something fragile.

Something unwanted.

Tap...

Tap...

Tap...

Their footsteps echoed through the endless palace corridors.

The Kingdom of Almoor's palace was breathtaking.

Crystal chandeliers.

Golden pillars.

Beautiful paintings.

Fresh flowers decorated every corner.

Yet for Aria—

This place felt colder than a prison.

At last—

They reached her room.

It was small.

Far too small for a princess.

A narrow bed.

An old wooden desk.

A cracked window.

Cold wind slipped through the cracks.

Whoooosh...

The curtains fluttered weakly.

No jewels.

No expensive paintings.

No warmth.

Only silence.

The maids placed her upon the bed.

Then left.

Click.

Once again—

Aria was alone.

She slowly turned her head.

Beneath her bed—

A small stack of books waited.

Her eyes softened.

Books...

Her only escape.

Inside books—

Princesses were loved.

Families protected one another.

Dreams came true.

Inside books—

No one hated Aria Vale.

A faint smile appeared on her lips.

Sad.

Yet genuine.

Creak...

The door slowly opened.

Aria flinched immediately.

Her body stiffened.

But then—

A warm voice reached her ears.

"Princess..."

Aria slowly looked up.

And her expression softened.

"Lady Mirea..."

An elderly maid entered carrying a tray.

Warm soup.

Fresh bread.

And a bottle of herbal medicine.

Lady Mirea's eyes immediately filled with sadness.

"Oh, my poor child..."

She carefully sat beside Aria.

Her hands were gentle.

So incredibly gentle.

Unlike everyone else.

She touched Aria's forehead.

Then frowned.

"You have a fever again."

Aria smiled weakly.

"I always recover."

Lady Mirea shook her head.

"Recovering..."

She gently brushed Aria's hair aside.

"...is not the same as healing."

Those words—

Touched something deep inside Aria.

She lowered her eyes.

Because no one had ever cared enough to say such things.

Lady Mirea carefully cleaned the wounds on her back.

Applying Moonleaf paste.

Then Silverroot oil.

Medicines commonly used to reduce inflammation and fever.

"It hurts?" she asked softly.

"A little."

"Then I will be more careful."

Her hands slowed.

Gentle.

Patient.

Loving.

Aria quietly watched her.

A strange warmth filled her chest.

Small.

Fragile.

But precious.

After a while—

Lady Mirea handed her a book.

"A story from beyond the northern mountains."

Aria's eyes immediately sparkled.

"Really?" 🥹

The old maid chuckled softly.

"Really."

Aria carefully hugged the book against her chest.

As if it were treasure.

"I wish..."

She whispered softly.

"I wish I could see the world."

Lady Mirea smiled gently.

"One day."

"You will."

Aria looked toward the cracked window.

Toward the distant sky.

Could such a thing truly happen?

Could someone like her...

Ever be free?

✧ Elsewhere in the Palace ✧

The royal corridor was cold and echoing.

Lady Fina and Lady Cala walked together.

“As long as she remains here,” Fina muttered, “this will never end.”

Cala nodded.

“Why should we care? Even the royals don’t.”

They turned a corner—

and stopped.

Lady Lyse stood before them.

The head maid.

Her presence alone made the air heavier.

“What were you saying?” she asked quietly.

The two maids stiffened.

“Nothing, Lady Lyse.”

But she had already heard enough.

Her silence was sharper than punishment.

✧ Council Hall of Almoor ✧

Far above, in the grand hall of strategy and war—

Emperor Edward Vale sat before a vast table.

Maps spread across it.

Borders marked in red.

The kingdom of Elowen was highlighted in heavy ink.

Tension filled the room.

One advisor spoke carefully.

“Peace talks are becoming necessary.”

Edward said nothing.

Then the doors opened.

Prince Alan entered the chamber and bowed slightly.

“You summoned me, Father?”

Edward nodded.

“Elowen has become a growing problem. We must resolve this matter.”

Alan stepped closer to the table and studied the map.

A gift.

A peace offering.

Something valuable enough to halt war.

His thoughts moved quickly.

Land?

No.

Gold?

Temporary.

Alliance?

And then—

An idea formed.

Royal blood.

A royal lady.

An innocent princess.

Beautiful.

Quiet.

Disposable.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

Cold.

Strategic.

If a cursed child could end a war…

then perhaps she finally had value.

Alan lifted his head confidently.

“Father,” he said, “prepare the royal convoy.”

Edward studied his son carefully.

“We are going to Elowen.”

Alan smiled proudly.

“I will solve this problem.”

Around the table, the royal aides exchanged confused glances.

But Emperor Edward simply nodded.

Because he already understood his son’s plan.

✧ Aria’s Room ✧

Aria sat by the window.

Reading.

Unaware that her fate had just been decided.

Unaware that she would soon be sent far away from the only world she had ever known.

The world outside was invisible to her.

But in her hands—

worlds existed.

Places she had never seen.

Skies she had never touched.

Freedom she had never known.

Lady Mirea stood quietly behind her.

Watching.

Protecting.

Even if only in silence.

And somewhere far beyond the palace walls…

Destiny shifted again.

A name not yet spoken aloud in this moment…

Elowen.

A cursed prince waiting.

A forgotten princess breathing.

And a prophecy that refused to remain buried.

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