" Should I let go of all fantasies... Forgive and accept this new flaw against all prayers of mine? "
The night breeze hit her hair, making them dance to its rhythm once more, before she proceeded to lay in bed and close her eyes, facing the ceiling.
Minutes passed, and she couldn't find herself drifting to sleep.
The ceiling was painted white, with most of the decorations in gold and glass. Beautifully carved designs adorned each corner.
She was lying almost naked beside a man… her husband, nonetheless. How fantasies could come crashing down.
She recalled every detail from yesterday—how she was adorned with jewels and a white-grey dress, her hair tied in a bun and light makeup on her face… just to do what?
Sign some papers. A bride without a groom. She might have cried if she were the Lara from five years ago, but the Lara of today had been hurt so brutally that none of his actions could wound her any longer.
Lara turned to face the Emperor, who had his back to her. How much trust was he placing in her by showing her his back?
Or do I not even seem like a plausible threat to him?
She wondered, staring at his back a moment longer before placing her finger on his head—lightly grabbing the ends of his black hair. They looked so soft and shiny, ending just an inch and a half above his neck.
His broad, wide back, slouched shoulders, and… not the lower area—for she didn't wish to taint her eyes.
Here lay the man who never entered a woman's chambers—resting in his night attire in hers—because, according to him, she wasn't a woman.
She let out a chuckle at how foolish he was being. Though, she understood him.
The two fingers that had been playing with his hair now traveled to his neck. For a moment, Lara opened her hand fully and lightly placed it on the back of his neck—without applying any pressure. Her fingers barely reached around to the front.
Is that why he's comfortable showing me his neck? Because I can't even squeeze it hard enough to break it?
She let go and returned to gazing at the intricate ceiling above.
She had reached a conclusion.
Rather than choosing a side, she must rise before the wave of absurdity crashes into her.
The right side meant turning her back on the enemy, and the left side meant facing them empty-handed.
She didn't put anything over her lingerie. "Not like he sees me as a woman for it to be a problem," she thought to herself with a pleased smile.
Once again, she went to the balcony—but this time with a fresh bottle of wine in her right hand.
Rather than sitting on a chair or standing by the railing, she sat on the floor, choosing a corner as her companion and the wall behind her for support.
Looking up at the beautiful dark sky—a force of habit—as the cold night breeze kissed her bare skin, she brought the bottle to her lips, took a long sip, and gulped it down, smiling wildly.
"When was the last time I felt like this?... Like my gender didn't matter, and I just had to live?"
A pathetic yet emotionless smile tugged at her lips as she gazed at the breathtaking scenery before her.
She was, without doubt, living in one of the most beautiful palaces.
This man—who now lay in her chambers—was the one who had chosen and given her these very rooms. The chambers of the first Empress—who was cherished by the first Emperor.
His only empress, whom he had loved deeply.
Together, they had ruled justly and fairly.
No emperor after him had only one wife—none without concubines.
He became the epitome of love and loyalty. A love that whispered, "You are more than enough for me. If any problem requires me to take someone else, I will solve it with you and our children—together, with all I have," into the ears of the first Empress, who smiled in return and cupped his face as she whispered, "And you, my dear, are the very essence of my life—my soul."
"While he, who doesn't even see me as a woman, has given me the same chambers."
When no other emperor even dared to open them—not for anyone.
I wonder what he was thinking. Did he even think while ordering it or…
What useless thoughts.
She smiled once again. Just when she had been freed of all responsibility, her brain began spinning scenarios—of what reality could have been—if only she could find someone who would love and cherish her as much as she would love and cherish him.
"How ridiculous."
As the bottle emptied, she stood up and stumbled back toward her bed. The space where the emperor had been lying moments ago was now empty. He had left without a trace.
Lara let out a breath of relief. This time, she lay in bed with sleep embracing her from behind.
Knowing very well that morning would bring chaos—for the emperor had already made it clear that he did not favor his empress at all.
Though for the others—even if he never visited them—they were at least gifted a precious present.
Even then, nothing could rob her of her peaceful sleep.
"Gosh! She's still asleep."
"Does she have no shame?"
"Who's going to step in and wake her up?"
(Murmur)
(Murmur)
A loud voice screamed in annoyance.
"GOSH! Why do I have to serve her, when the first son of the first Empress is already chosen as the Crown Prince of the Empire?"
"Shhh, Carla, lower your voice!"
A voice full of hesitation and fear.
"WHAT DOES IT MATTER? Julie, you've always been a scaredy cat!"
Thud!
Slam!
The door to Lara's room was flung open with force by one of the maids who had been murmuring outside for some time.
The whispers belonged to three maids—handpicked by the Emperor—not that anyone knew, except the imperial assistant.
The three entered, and one of them brazenly pulled the covers off Lara's body and shouted:
"Wake up!"
The maid, suddenly full of audacity, shouted again—this time directly at Lara, inside her chambers.
Without opening her eyes, Lara grabbed the flower pot from her side table and hurled it toward the maid—missing her face by mere centimeters.
The pot shattered against the floor with a loud crash.
GASP
The maids froze in fear, trembling and struggling to breathe at the sudden shock—completely stunned by her unexpected reaction—and took a few steps back.
Something they wouldn't have imagined in a thousand years.
"Clean that up and leave. Bring me breakfast exactly after two hours. One of you return to help me dress for the day. The one named Julie."
Lara commanded, still with her eyes closed, motioning with her hand for them to leave.
They hurriedly cleaned the mess and exited, not daring to speak another word.
From this point on, they would never again dare to enter her chambers without her summon.
Just how much audacity could one show… without anyone behind them?
Days passed, and it had already been a month since she arrived.
She had become infamous for being a psycho who threw things at anyone who entered her chambers—thus, people began avoiding the Fourth Empress's palace.
No one dared even to cross the threshold, for fear of getting hit.
Only her three maids came in and out.
Though, a few days ago, the Second Empress had paid her a visit—unannounced—and was promptly greeted with yet another flying decoration.
She caused quite the scene before leaving, inadvertently adding to Lara's growing notoriety.
The Emperor behaved as if Lara were of no concern to him.
In other words, no matter what she did—he would not pay her any attention.
Just what Lara wanted.
In this strange empire where she knew no one, she needed trustworthy allies to help her find her friend… her peace, her heart… and the part of her soul she had lost.
Lara had been asking for all kinds of information from anyone she could find near her palace—be it a guard, a gardener, or even passing guests. But first, she squeezed what she could from her maids.
Apparently, the Emperor—rumored to be a woman-hater—already had a successor from the First Empress. Some claimed she had already been pregnant when she entered the empire, and that perhaps… the child wasn't his.
Lara concluded that the First Empress must have entered the empire while already carrying his child.
Because—why would a man like him allow another man's child to be named his heir?
More importantly—why would he allow a pregnant woman to enter his empire as his Empress?