THE PRINCESS NOBODY WANTED
1099 Words
The Royal Archives had been breached.
The Birth Records were gone.
And the traitor was still inside the palace.
The realization settled over the Hall of Judgment like a storm cloud.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
For several long seconds, the entire chamber remained frozen.
Then chaos erupted.
“Seal the gates!”
“Search the archives!”
“No one leaves the palace!”
Council members shouted orders.
Guards rushed from the room.
Messengers sprinted through corridors.
Fear spread rapidly.
Not because records had been stolen.
Because of which records had been stolen.
The records proving who Elaria truly was.
⸻
Elaria stood silently amidst the chaos.
Watching.
Listening.
Thinking.
For nineteen years she had been powerless.
Invisible.
Ignored.
People rarely noticed invisible girls.
And because of that—
She noticed things.
Small things.
Important things.
Like the way Lord Cassian wasn’t surprised.
Like the way he remained calm while everyone else panicked.
Like the tiny smile she had caught before it disappeared.
The smile of a man whose plan was working.
Her stomach tightened.
The Trial had shown her enough.
Not proof.
But certainty.
Cassian was involved.
Maybe not alone.
But involved.
The problem was obvious.
Nobody would believe her.
Not yet.
⸻
“Elaria.”
Selene’s voice broke through her thoughts.
The Queen stood nearby.
Watching her carefully.
Almost cautiously.
Like someone approaching a wounded animal.
The sight felt strange.
Because powerful people usually demanded trust.
Selene seemed to be hoping for it.
A very different thing.
The Queen hesitated.
Then asked softly:
“Are you alright?”
The question nearly made Elaria laugh.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was impossible.
Nothing about this situation was alright.
Yesterday she was an orphan.
Today she was apparently a princess.
Yesterday nobody cared whether she existed.
Today the kingdom was fighting over her identity.
How was anyone supposed to be alright?
Yet she saw genuine concern in Selene’s eyes.
Real concern.
Not political concern.
Maternal concern.
The realization made her chest ache.
Because part of her wanted that.
Wanted a mother.
Wanted belonging.
Wanted family.
And another part remained furious.
Because where had that family been for nineteen years?
⸻
Before either could speak further—
A voice interrupted.
“Your Majesty.”
Everyone turned.
Prince Lucien had entered the chamber.
The atmosphere immediately shifted.
Nobles straightened.
Servants bowed.
Guards lowered their heads.
The Crown Prince approached calmly.
Controlled as always.
Yet his gaze briefly found Elaria.
And lingered.
Only for a second.
But Elaria noticed.
So did Seraphina.
And she hated it.
⸻
Lucien stopped before the Queen.
“The city already knows.”
The statement shocked the room.
Selene frowned.
“How?”
“Rumors.”
Lucien’s expression darkened.
“Somebody spread the story.”
The hall grew quiet.
Of course they had.
Secrets never survived in royal courts.
Especially dangerous secrets.
Especially profitable secrets.
By nightfall every tavern in Asterlyn would be discussing it.
The Lost Princess.
The Orphan Heir.
The Girl Chosen by the Throne.
The story was too dramatic not to spread.
And someone clearly wanted it spreading.
The question was why.
⸻
Far across the chamber…
Seraphina’s nails dug into her palms.
Princess.
The word echoed inside her head.
Princess.
Everything she had spent years building suddenly felt fragile.
For years she had been the kingdom’s perfect daughter.
The perfect noblewoman.
The future queen.
The chosen Luna.
And now?
People were whispering another name.
Elaria.
The girl she humiliated.
The girl she dismissed.
The girl who should have disappeared.
Jealousy twisted inside her like poison.
⸻
That evening…
The palace prepared rooms for Elaria.
Royal rooms.
Princess chambers.
The thought felt ridiculous.
She followed servants through enormous hallways.
Past priceless artwork.
Past crystal chandeliers.
Past generations of royal history.
Everything felt wrong.
Too large.
Too beautiful.
Too distant from the life she knew.
Finally the servants opened a pair of golden doors.
Her new chambers.
Elaria stepped inside.
And froze.
The room was larger than her entire house.
A balcony overlooked the city.
Moonlight poured through enormous windows.
Books lined the walls.
Silver candles glowed softly.
Luxury surrounded her.
Yet instead of excitement—
She felt lonely.
Because none of it belonged to her.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
⸻
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
She turned.
Mira stood in the doorway.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Elaria crossed the room.
And hugged her.
The old woman immediately broke into tears.
So did Elaria.
Because regardless of secrets…
Regardless of lies…
Mira had raised her.
Fed her.
Protected her.
Loved her.
For nineteen years.
Nothing could erase that.
“I’m sorry.”
Mira’s voice cracked.
“So am I.”
They stood together for several moments.
Neither wanting to let go.
⸻
Later that night…
Long after the palace slept…
Elaria stood on her balcony.
Looking out over Asterlyn.
The city glittered beneath the moon.
Beautiful.
Peaceful.
Deceptive.
Because somewhere out there—
A traitor was moving.
Destroying evidence.
Preparing for war.
And if the Trial was right—
That traitor feared her return.
A cold breeze brushed her skin.
Then she heard footsteps behind her.
Soft footsteps.
Careful footsteps.
She turned.
Prince Lucien stood in the doorway.
The sight surprised her.
He looked almost uncomfortable.
Which was somehow more surprising.
For several moments neither spoke.
The memory of the Choosing Ceremony hung between them.
Painful.
Awkward.
Unresolved.
Finally Lucien broke the silence.
“I owe you an apology.”
Elaria blinked.
Of all the things she expected—
That wasn’t one of them.
The Crown Prince lowered his gaze slightly.
“I judged you before knowing anything about you.”
The honesty startled her.
He continued.
“I was wrong.”
The words hung in the air.
Simple.
Sincere.
Unexpected.
Elaria studied him carefully.
Trying to determine whether he meant it.
The strange thing was—
He did.
At least partly.
And that made things far more complicated.
⸻
Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the shadows below.
A hooded man stood among the palace gardens.
Hidden.
Silent.
Dangerous.
His eyes remained fixed on Elaria’s balcony.
Fixed on the Lost Princess.
Slowly he removed a folded letter.
A sealed letter.
Marked with an ancient black symbol.
A symbol forbidden throughout the Dominion.
The mark of the people responsible for the attack nineteen years ago.
The mark of the enemy that was supposed to be extinct.
The hooded man smiled.
Then disappeared into the darkness.
Leaving only one message behind.
A message destined for Lord Cassian.
A message containing six chilling words:
The heir has been found. Proceed.
- Writer
