Chapter 2
1200 Words
Princess Alia’s POV
The evening air felt crisp and cool as the evening moon settled over the palace.
Dinner had long been served, and the halls grew quiet the way they always did after sunset.
Most of the servants had retired and were probably sleeping, and the royal family was expected to be in their chambers, resting.
I sat alone in my room, staring at the candle by my bedside as its flame flickered gently.
Sleep refused to come to me. Ever since Father summoned me earlier that day, unease and anxiety had followed me like a shadow.
My mind was unsettled. So many thought had crossed my mind.
Why does father want to see me?
What exactly does he want to discuss with me?
Is he planning to reveal his illness to me?
Speaking of illness, why did father keep it a secret?
Why didn't he want to tell his family? Me?
I kept thinking about his face at the dining table. The way his eyes lingered on me. The way his voice sounded tired, even when he tried to hide it.
Something was wrong.
I rose from my bed and walked toward the window, parting the curtains slightly. The palace grounds were calm, almost too calm, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
The polished marble floor felt cold beneath my feet. Strange. They felt unfamiliar.
That was when I heard movement in the corridor.
Soft footsteps.
Quiet voices.
I leaned closer to the door, careful not to make a sound. Through the thick wood, I heard a knock, light and cautious on my father’s chamber door.
“Who goes there?” Father asked.
“It’s the royal messenger, Your Majesty,” came the reply, low and careful, as if it held secrets to which no one should know except the king.
My heart tightened, not out of fear, but out of curiosity.
Royal messenger? At this hour?
I pressed my ear closer to the door. I knew it was improper to listen, but worry had already taken hold of me. The war loomed closer with every passing day. Any message delivered at night could only mean trouble.
“Open,” Father commanded.
I imagined the door opening, the royal chief messenger stepping inside. I knew Careen well. He never appeared unless the matter was urgent.
“What brings the Chief Messenger to His Majesty’s chamber at this late hour?” Father asked.
“My apologies, Your Majesty. I did not mean to disturb you.”
“Tell me what you’ve brought.”
There was a pause. Then Careen’s voice again, respectful and steady. “Your Majesty… while at the borders of the honorable Kingdom of Eldoria, I received a message instructing me to give this to you. It is from the opposing Kingdom of Virellia.”
My breath caught.
Virellia?
The name alone carried weight. Our enemy. Our future battlefield.
I stepped back from the door, my hands trembling. I could not hear anything more clearly after that, but my thoughts raced faster than my heart.
Was this concerning the war declared? A threat? A demand?
I imagined Father sitting on his bed, holding the scroll with shaking hands. I knew that look. I had seen it before, when Mother fell ill, when the healers whispered behind closed doors.
I returned to my bed but did not sit. I paced instead, my gown brushing softly against the floor.
Minutes passed.
Silence returned to the corridor.
Eventually, footsteps retreated, light but hurried. Careen was leaving.
Whatever the message was, Father had received it alone.
That night felt longer than most. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, whispering silent prayers. I prayed not as a princess, but as a daughter.
I prayed that whatever burden rested on Father’s shoulders would not crush him further.
…
The next morning, sunlight poured into the palace gardens, bright and warm.
I watched from a distance as Father walked slowly along the garden path with Sage Aldren, his Chief Royal Advisor.
Royal Physician Harwin had always insisted Father take his morning walks. I wondered if he still listened.
The gardens were beautiful. Tall trees stood proudly and firmly rooted to the ground on each side of the path, flowers blooming in clean rows. It should have felt peaceful.
But something felt wrong.
Father stumbled.
I stiffened.
Sage Aldren caught him quickly, holding his arm to support him.
“Is everything okay, Your Majesty?”
I could not hear Father’s reply clearly, but I saw the way he lifted his hand slightly, signaling for Aldren to step back.
“I suppose I did not sleep well last night. I’m just feeling a little drowsy.”
Even from where I stood, I knew it was a lie.
They continued walking. Slowly. Carefully.
I wanted to run to him, hug him from behind and then ask him why he kept pretending.
But I stayed where I was. Watching. Waiting, waiting impatiently. Hoping someday he would come to me and reveal the truth, the truth he kept hiding from me.
Moments later, they stopped again.
I could not hear everything, but I saw Father stand still, his posture tense. Sage Aldren turned to face him fully.
Something serious was being said.
“I am terribly ill.”
The words did not reach my ears, but I felt them in my bones. A strange chill ran through me, and I pressed my hands together tightly.
I saw Sage Aldren’s reaction then. The shock. The disbelief.
“I may not fight the war. It is that bad.”
My chest tightened painfully.
So it was true.
Father would not lead the war.
Which meant…
Successor.
The word echoed in my mind.
I watched as Sage Aldren bowed his head. I imagined the conversation clearly, as though I were standing right beside them.
“Your Majesty… then you must hand it over.”
“To whom do you advise I hand it?”
I held my breath.
“Lord Darius, Your Majesty.”
My fingers clenched.
No.
I knew Uncle Darius. I had seen his impatience. His hunger for power. The way servants whispered when he ruled in Father’s absence.
Father’s posture changed then. Even from afar, I saw his refusal.
“No.”
The firmness in his stance made my heart ache.
“I have my daughter in mind.”
Time seemed to stop.
Me?
I pressed my hand against my chest, unable to breathe properly.
I imagined Sage Aldren’s protest, the mention of elders and traditions, of chaos and opposition. I had heard those arguments my whole life. A woman could not rule. A daughter could not inherit.
But Father stood tall.
“I know what is best for the kingdom, even if it means going against tradition and ancient, everlasting rules.”
Tears burned my eyes.
In that moment, I understood something clearly.
Father was choosing me.
Not just as his child, but as his successor.
“Arrange a meeting for me with the Princess tomorrow, after the midday meal.”
My heart pounded.
Tomorrow?
Whatever awaited me then would change my life forever.
And deep down, I knew there was no turning back.
- Writer
