Flashback – Third Person Point of View
It was late at night when Elisa was summoned to Prince Rion's chambers.
She had just finished helping clean the main dining hall after the royal family's banquet. Her hands were still wet from washing dishes, and the hem of her maid skirt was slightly soiled. She was walking back to the servants' wing when a messenger stopped her.
"Prince Rion summons you," the messenger said—a young man with a flat expression, as if delivering a weather report.
Elisa's heart beat a little faster. "Now, Sir?"
"Now," he stated, leaving no room for argument.
Elisa nodded. She followed the messenger through the long corridors of the palace—marble floors reflecting the candlelight, massive paintings on the walls, statues of past emperors. Grand. Cold. Like a beautiful tomb.
They arrived in front of a large wooden door carved with the moon—the Crown Prince's private chambers.
The messenger knocked. "Your Highness, the maid has arrived."
"Enter." The voice from inside was calm and gentle.
The messenger opened the door, gestured for Elisa to enter, and then closed it again from the outside.
Elisa stepped inside.
The room was... magnificent. A massive bed with a golden silk canopy. A wardrobe made of rare wood with intricate carvings. A writing desk in the corner, cluttered with books and parchment. A large fireplace roared, warming the room despite the cold outside. Tall windows with heavy drapes, and on the ceiling, a crystal chandelier refracted the candlelight into thousands of tiny stars.
And amidst all that luxury stood Rion von Moonstone.
He was dressed casually—no formal robes, just a loose white shirt and dark trousers. His golden-blonde hair fell perfectly, even though it wasn't styled. His eyes—gold, like the setting sun—looked at Elisa with an expression that was... warm?
"Elisa," he greeted with a smile. "Thank you for coming."
Elisa curtsied. "I am ready to serve, Your Highness."
"Don't be so formal. I've told you dozens of times, haven't I? Don't be formal when it's just the two of us," Rion said.
"Alright, Rion."
"Good. Come here." Rion pointed to a small sofa near the fireplace. "Sit." On the small table in front of it, there were two glasses and a bottle of dark red wine.
Elisa hesitated. "Rion, it is not appropriate for me..."
"I am the one asking," Rion cut in gently. "Or are you refusing your Prince's request?"
His tone was light. Joking. But Elisa knew—refusal was not an option.
"Certainly not." She walked slowly and sat on the edge of the sofa, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Rion sat opposite her, picked up the wine bottle, and poured it into the two glasses. "This is wine from the southern vineyards. My father saves it for special occasions, but I think... tonight is special enough."
He handed a glass to Elisa.
"You shouldn't be drinking this. Rion, you..."
"Shh. It's okay, just for once, alright?"
"Huff. Fine, but don't blame me if the Emperor finds out."
"Yes, of course."
Finally, Elisa accepted the glass offered by Rion. Rion raised his glass. "To... friendship."
Friendship. A strange word for a prince and a maid.
But Elisa didn't dare question it. She raised her glass too, touched Rion's glass gently, and took a small sip.
The wine was sweet. Too sweet. Or maybe it was just because Elisa rarely drank wine—in her village, they only had cheap beer and water.
"You're tense," Rion said, observing her. "Relax. I just want to talk."
"Talk?"
"Yes." Rion leaned back on the sofa, one arm draped over the backrest. A relaxed posture. Non-threatening. "You know, being the Crown Prince is... lonely. Everyone treats me like a statue—respectful, but cold. No one really talks to me."
Elisa didn't know how to answer. She just gave a small nod.
"But you," Rion continued, looking at Elisa with a gaze that was... tender? "You are different. I've noticed—you never look at me with that excessive fear like the other servants. You are... sincere."
Sincere. Elisa didn't feel sincere. She was just trying to do her job well, nothing more.
"I only try to serve well."
"And you do it perfectly." Rion smiled—a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, making his face look younger, more... human. "That is why I want to know you better."
Elisa felt something flutter in her stomach. Uncomfortable. But she ignored it.
"Tell me about yourself," Rion requested. "Where are you from?"
"From a small village in the south, Your Highness. Near the border."
"Your family?"
"My father is a farmer. My mother passed away when I was 13."
"Ah." Rion nodded slowly. "I lost my mother too. While she was giving birth to my younger sibling."
Elisa put on a sad face; she understood the pain. "I'm listening."
"It's been a long time." Rion shrugged. "But sometimes, I still miss her. Her voice. The touch of her hand combing through my hair." He smiled bitterly. "Silly, isn't it? A Prince missing simple things like that."
"It's not silly, Your Highness. It's... human."
Rion stared at her for a long time. "You understand."
A brief silence. Only the sound of the fire crackling softly in the fireplace.
Then Rion poured more wine into Elisa's glass.
"Drink," he said. "This wine is too good to waste."
Elisa drank again. More this time. Her head started to feel light—whether from the wine or the warmth of the room.
They talked more. Light topics. Rion spoke about the Ostrivien Academy—great teachers, his best friends, the pressure of being the 'Chosen Hero'. He spoke with a weary tone, like someone unburdening themselves.
And Elisa... Elisa listened. Because that was her job, right? To listen. To serve.
But somehow, this conversation felt... different. Not like an order. More like... sharing?
The wine was almost gone. Elisa's glass had been filled three times. Her head was truly spinning now.
"Are you okay?" Rion asked, noticing Elisa's flushed face.
"I-I am fine."
"You're not used to drinking, are you?" Rion chuckled softly—a warm sound, not mocking. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get you drunk."
"It-it's fine..." Elisa tried to smile, but the room was spinning.
Rion stood up. "You should lie down for a moment. Come."
He reached out his hand.
Elisa stared at that hand. Hesitant.
"I won't bite," Rion said with a smile. "Promise."
Elisa took his hand. Rion helped her stand—gentle movements, full of care—then guided her toward the bed.
"Sleep for a bit until your head clears," Rion said. "I will call another servant to escort you back later."
Elisa sat on the edge of the bed. The silk sheets felt cool and smooth against her hands. "Thank you, Rion. You are very... kind."
Rion smiled. Then he sat next to Elisa.
Close. Too close.
"You know," Rion whispered, his voice lower now. "I enjoyed talking with you tonight." He leaned in closer.
Rion's hand came up—touching Elisa's cheek softly.
Elisa froze.
"Rionn...."
"Shhh." Rion's finger moved to Elisa's lips, silencing her. "No need to be afraid."
But Elisa was afraid. Her instincts screamed. This was wrong. This was—
Rion kissed her.
SLAP.
Elisa reflexively slapped Rion's left cheek hard. "Huff..." Elisa panted, still in disbelief at what she had done.
D-did I just slap the Crown Prince?!
Rion touched his reddening left cheek. "You dare slap a prince?" Rion smirked. "The penalty is severe for anyone who attacks a member of the Imperial family."
"But relax. I won't take this to the legal courts. So the judge won't punish you. Instead, I am the one who will punish you, you naughty girl~"
"N-no, that wasn't my intention... It's just that you were too close," Elisa whispered.
Rion's eyes flashed wildly, his golden irises seeming to glow as he leaned his face closer. Warm breath washed over Elisa's face.
"Am I not allowed to?" He hissed, his voice full of intimidation. "I am your Prince, Lisa—you are my personal maid. Therefore, I have a right to your body."
"That is not technically..."
With a sudden jerk, he pulled Elisa's arms above her head, pinning them to the mattress with one large hand, while his other hand explored the curves of her body freely. His touch was rough, demanding, claiming every inch of her body as his own.
"You have to stop fighting me," he whispered, his lips touching Elisa's earlobe. "It will only make things worse for you. Just give in."
Rion's lips moved—kissing her forehead. Gentle. Like a lover.
But this was not love.
"You said you just wanted to talk..." Elisa's voice broke. She tried to push, but her hands were weak. Her legs were unsteady.
Kissing sounds.
Rion pulled her into a brutal kiss, his tongue invading her mouth. Assessing every inch of her teeth. "And you believed it? How innocent." He muttered against her lips, in between ferocious kisses.
The door was locked.
No one was coming.
No one would hear.
...
Dawn was breaking. Rion returned to his room after bathing in his private bath.
On his bed, a woman was still lying there—Elisa, his personal maid.
The white sheets, once clean, were now stained with blood that was beginning to dry.
Rion sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Elisa's back as she lay facing away from him.
"Surprising," he murmured softly. "She's still a virgin."
---
Back to the Present - Midday,January 6, 1015
Rion's Point of View
Morning had turned into afternoon. The sun began to rise as high as the prayers of the poor in the hinterlands.
Behind the large window of my private study, the view of the Moonstone Palace stretched out vast—perfectly manicured gardens, pristine fountains, and high walls separating the palace world from the outside world.
However, I was not looking out.
I sat at an ebony wood writing desk, my back perfectly straight, a posture trained since childhood. Before me lay a blank sheet of parchment—high-quality paper, produced specifically for imperial correspondence. To the right, pitch-black ink in a crystal bottle. To the left, red wax for the seal, already beginning to melt over a small burner.
I lifted the quill—a white goose feather with a gold tip—and dipped it into the ink. Mechanical movements. Precise. No hesitation.
I began to write.
>
My letters were perfect. No excess strokes, no dripping ink. Every curve, every line—the result of years of calligraphy lessons with strict tutors who did not tolerate mistakes.
> With all due respect, I convey warm greetings from the Moonstone Palace.
> In accordance with the direction of His Majesty Emperor Alaric von Moonstone, I hereby convey the desire to hold an official meeting between our two families to discuss the sacred bond that has been planned since birth.
Sacred bond. I smiled strangely—I would play this drama with manipulative grandeur. This political marriage had nothing to do with sanctity. It was about alliances, power, stability. Everyone knew that. Yet in a formal letter, lies must be wrapped in beautiful words.
> I look forward to the opportunity to meet Princess Sylvia von Estrella, who is rumored to possess wisdom and grace rare in this age.
I paused for a moment. My hand did not tremble—it never trembled—but there was a small pause in my movement. Sylvia von Estrella. I had met her often, even in childhood—we always played together. Pretty face, soft eyes, polite smile. Like a porcelain doll.
Father said Sylvia would "tame" me. Make me responsible. Force me to grow into a worthy heir.
I will make Sylpi regret it. And make her decide to divorce. After all, this is a secret marriage, not an official public one. So only a handful of people know we are already married, while everyone else still thinks we are merely engaged.
I dipped my pen again, continuing.
> With humility, I propose a meeting on January 11th, at the Marquess's residence, if it pleases you. I will arrive with a sufficient escort and bring gifts as a token of respect.
The eleventh. Five days from now. A bit of a wait, indeed, but not without reason. After all, Sylpi is an active student at the Academy, so when the letter of authority arrives, the Marquess must summon Sylpi home from the academy first.
> May the Moonlight bless the Estrella family.
> Respectfully,
> Rion von Moonstone
> Crown Prince of the Moonstone Empire.
I put down the pen and looked at my writing. Every word chosen carefully. Every sentence following strict imperial protocol. No room for error, no gap to be misinterpreted.
Perfect.
I took the melted red wax—the imperial color of Moonstone—and dripped it onto the edge of the folded parchment. From the desk drawer, I took the signet ring—gold with a crescent moon engraving. I pressed it into the still-hot wax.
Click.
The seal was formed. Official. Irrevocable.
I stood up, took the letter, and walked to the door. Outside, an old servant stood on guard—not Elisa, of course. Elisa hadn't been seen since this morning. She must have returned to her duties elsewhere.
"Take this to the messenger room," I ordered, handing over the letter. "Ensure it leaves before sunset. Fastest route."
"Yes, Your Highness." The servant bowed deeply and left with quick steps.
I closed the door.
My room was silent again. The afternoon breeze blew gently through the window gap. I walked to the huge window and stared out.
The letter was sent. The matter was handled.
The day after tomorrow, a reply would come. Marquess Estrella would undoubtedly accept—there is no way he would refuse the Crown Prince. And then, on the 11th, I would go to the Marquess's residence. I would smile, speak politely, compliment Sylvia, and play the role of the "perfect prospective husband" with the same precision as I wrote this letter.
An angel's mask.
I turned my body, leaving the window. I glanced at my bed—the sheets had been changed. Clean. White. No trace whatsoever of last night's Chaos.
Servants are indeed efficient.
"..."
Elisa.
For some reason, every time I see a maid, I am reminded of her. How is her condition? No, rather than thinking about it... I'd better check on her.
Elisa, I'm coming.