Flawless choice. This scene will give us three layers
The sun had long since bled behind the citadel walls, casting the Garden of Black Roses in a veil of violet twilight. The air hung heavy with perfume and frost.
Lucian stood beneath the withered statue of the first Empress, his hands behind his back, gaze fixed on the obsidian horizon. Not a sound. Not even breath.
Behind him, Lydia approached—silent as a sigh, her heels brushing petals that curled at her feet.
> "You're quiet," she said softly.
> "You were... vicious," he replied without turning. "You didn't have to humiliate the duke."
> "He wanted a trial," Lydia murmured, stepping beside him. "You deserved applause, not doubt."
> "And you hate when anyone doubts me."
> "No," she whispered, violet eyes sharp. "I hate when you doubt yourself."
Lucian's jaw tightened. He looked at her, slowly. The moonlight caught the edge of her face—ethereal, dangerous, undeniably his.
She reached for his hand. He didn't pull away. But he didn't squeeze back, either.
> "You still think I'll leave," she said, not asking.
> "No," Lucian replied. "I think the world will take you. And I'll let it—because that's what I was trained to do."
Silence settled between them like an old friend.
Then Lydia pressed her lips to his knuckles.
> "I'll never be taken," she said against his skin. "Not from you."
A shadow passed over Lucian's face, just for a moment. Then it was gone.
---
🌸 Beneath the Playground
Across the garden, laughter echoed—faint and breathless.
Lilac ran barefoot across the hidden courtyard tucked behind the palace's private wing. Her painting apron flapped behind her like a cape. The marble playground—built from broken columns and enchanted tiles—was her sanctuary.
She chased a drifting petal into a corner where the floor tilted slightly upward.
But when she stepped on a certain stone—it sank.
A dull click.
The ground shivered.
A trapdoor creaked open beneath the edge of the slide, revealing a narrow tunnel of stairs spiraling into darkness. The scent that drifted up was metallic and cold.
Lilac blinked.
Then crouched.
She reached into her sketchbook, tore out a fresh page, and began drawing quickly.
What she saw wasn't just a tunnel.
There were runes. Symbols. And a mural of a king without a crown… stabbing a queen of blood.
Her violet eyes went wide. She dropped her brush.
---
🕯 Back to the Garden
Lucian felt it. A shift in the quiet.
He turned his head slightly—eyes narrowing toward the palace wing.
> "Something's wrong," he murmured.
Lydia looked up too, heartbeat fluttering in a way she couldn't explain.
Far off, a child's brush lay forgotten on cold stone.