Chapter 15: The White Fairy
Queen's Palace, Meeting Room
The meeting room of the Queen's Palace was shrouded in a dense, heavy silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
But the kind that whispered of cold ambition, of centuries-old traditions weighed down by power.
The room was wide, built from polished marble with black stone floors. Long vertical windows cast sharp beams of sunlight across the floor, like the blades of judgment themselves.
And seated at the head of the long black long table... her quill dancing across parchment... was the First Empress.
She didn't lift her gaze.
Dressed in pure white robes so finely embroidered they looked spun from moonlight, she radiated an untouchable grace. Her hair fell in cascading waves of silver-white. Her eyes, pale as snow, were locked on the documents before her.
She was the First Empress of the Ashkar Empire.
Also known as...
The White Fairy.
And beside her, in the chair to her right, lounged a man who carried the same features. Pure white hair. Icy white eyes. The same bloodline ran through his veins.
Her twin.
The Duke of SilverVeil.
He sat with the posture of a man who did not care... back relaxed, arms folded, his cloak slipping from one shoulder. Pure arrogance in human form. His presence was lazy, disinterested. But beneath it… there was something else.
A quiet storm.
The SilverVeil family was a noble house born from fairy blood. A lineage untouched by time.
Wealthy beyond comparison.
Feared by many.
And the producer of First Empresses for generations.
But never once… a king.
The Duke stared at his sister as she continued to sign and seal parchment after parchment.
He did not speak.
Not yet.
Until...
"So," the First Empress said calmly, without glancing up, "what brings you here today?"
Her voice was light.
But her tone... ice.
The man tilted his head with a bored expression.
"Nothing serious," he muttered, "I just missed you. Can't I at least visit my beloved twin sister?"
"We are not that close," she replied flatly.
She still didn't look at him.
"State your business... or leave."
There was no bite in her voice.
Only truth.
The Duke looked around the room as if it were beneath him. His fingers tapped once against the table. He gave no reply.
Then, slowly…
He straightened.
The lazy posture vanished. The air around him shifted.
He no longer sat as a brother.
But as a Duke of the realm.
"I am here on business," he said, voice now composed. "And I think you already know why."
The First Empress set her pen down.
But her eyes remained on the document in front of her.
She said nothing.
The Duke's voice didn't waver.
"I think it's time someone from our bloodline becomes Emperor."
His words hung in the air.
Heavy. Unspoken. Dangerous.
"For too long, the SilverVeil family has only given the Empire its First Queens. Our daughters, our sisters, our mothers... they sit beside the throne. They shape the court. They raise the heirs."
He leaned forward, lips curling into something between a smile and a sneer.
"And yet... never once has the child of a SilverVeil Queen worn the crown."
She still didn't look up.
"Every time, it is some concubine's son. Some lesser Queen's blood. We are the bloodline of fairies. Our power should rule."
Now she looked at him.
Their eyes met.
Same hair. Same gaze. Same perfection.
Twins in form... but not in will.
The White Fairy... expression unreadable... spoke at last.
"It is still too early for Aven to become King."
Her voice was calm. But absolute.
"And he will become Emperor only if… and only when… he proves himself worthy."
The Duke did not react.
His face remained still.
But the air...
The air grew colder.
"I am not talking about Aven."
The words came quietly.
Almost gently.
And the atmosphere changed.
A sudden clash... unseen but unmistakable... shivered through the room. Anyone sensitive to aura would have felt it. Two forces. Subtle. Vast. Pressing against each other.
Her expression shifted.
Gone was the still elegance.
In its place... danger.
"Brother," she said, her voice deathly soft, "do not make me kill you."
Her eyes were ice. Her aura sharpened like glass.
"It is not something I want to do."
"But if you bring this subject before me again… if you ever speak those words in my presence... "
She leaned forward.
"I swear, by the name of the SilverVeil family… you will die."
The Duke didn't flinch.
But he did lower his gaze.
For a moment, he looked down at his gloved hands. And his voice... calmer than it had any right to be... said...
"Even my sister does not understand me."
He rose.
"I have everything."
He turned toward the door.
"And yet… I am empty."
He left without another word.
No bow. No apology.
Only silence.
And when he was gone...
The First Empress exhaled softly. Her shoulders dropped, just a little.
Her fingers loosened.
"Phew…"
She stretched one arm, then the other. The fabric of her white robes shifted like water.
"Tch."
"Annoying man," she muttered.
She glanced back at the endless stack of documents on her desk.
So many signatures. So many seals.
Half the work of the Kingdom had been moved here from the King's Palace.
And she... of course... had taken it all on.
She picked up her pen.
The White Fairy worked in silence.
Again.
___________
The heavy doors shut behind him with a soft, hollow thud.
The echoes faded into silence.
The Duke stood still for a breath.
Two palace knights stood on either side of the Queen's Hall entrance, their posture disciplined and firm.
As he stepped forward, both bowed in sync.
"Your Grace," they greeted.
But the Duke's pale gaze paused on one of them.
Blood.
Faint bruises beneath the armor. A slight tremble in the right hand.
A flash of irritation crossed his face.
"You're injured," Duke SilverVeil said flatly, taking a step toward him.
"You should rest."
"I am completely fine, Your Grace," the knight said quickly, straightening.
"I can continue my duty."
The Duke placed a hand on his shoulder.
Not gently.
Not kindly.
His lips curved, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
There was something cold in the way he looked down at the knight... like one would examine a broken sword before tossing it away.
"If I tell you to rest…" he said softly,
"You obey."
The knight lowered his head.
"...Understood."
The Duke's smile faded.
He removed his hand, dusting his gloves as if he had touched something beneath him.
And without another word,
he walked away.
He moved down the wide, polished path of the Queen's Palace.
Each step elegant, each motion calculated... like he belonged on a stage.
As he passed a nearby marble pillar, he paused.
A pair of silk gloves slid from his fingers.
He dropped them into a silver-framed waste bin beside the pillar,
never once looking back.
White boots continued their path forward.
Duke SilverVeil walked calmly.
But in his mind, thoughts twisted.
The idea his sister had rejected still clung to him...
No… she had threatened him.
His fingers curled slightly.
He exhaled…
and smiled again.
The Queen's Palace grounds were vast, blooming with soft white roses, trimmed hedges, and sun-drenched marble.
Maids moved about their duties, heads lowered, baskets of scrolls or linen in hand.
And yet…
As he passed, they stole glances.
Soft gasps. Whispered voices. A blush here, a flutter there.
The Duke's white hair shimmered like snow under the sun.
His white eyes, unblinking and cruel, seemed to look through them.
And that smile... false, effortless, poisonous...
was enough to make the young maids flush with awe.
"Your Grace..."
they murmured as they bowed slightly.
He didn't respond.
But he knew.
He was beautiful.
And he was hollow.
But then...
Thuk.
Thuk.
A sound of heels... sharp, powerful... echoed down the path.
From the opposite side.
The temperature shifted.
The air, once cold and sterile with silence,
now brimmed with heat.
With pressure.
He paused.
She approached.
And for the first time that day,
the Duke's face truly changed.
Golden hair glistened under the sun, tied neatly behind her back.
A red dress hugged her form, shaped like flame.
At her side, a thin golden sword.
Her eyes...
Crimson. Deep. Alive.
A burning contrast to his own pale, lifeless white.
The Second Empress.
Anevra.
She walked like a soldier.
Like royalty.
Like a sword hidden in silk.
Their eyes met.
Red against white.
Fire against frost.
And for just a moment…
He stopped breathing.
Was it sadness?
Longing?
Something else…?
Or something that can't be said?
The Empress passed by, her eyes unmoved.
Her chin high.
Her blade silent.
And the Duke watched her.
As if watching something he once had.
And lost.
The wind passed between them.
Carrying the scent of white roses and burning steel.
He smiled again.
But this time…
It was almost real.