Irene was somewhere in the basement. She knew exactly where Grimfor was, but she was nervous to see him. It had been years, and she didn't know how he would react. The last time they saw each other was when Mother took away his daughter, the daughter he had with his previous mate. She died, and then he found Irene, his second mate.
The day they met was during a festival. The rain poured heavily that day, as if the gods were offended. And while she was looking for a place to shelter, she suddenly felt a coat wrap around her shoulders. She turned back and saw Grimfor. It was like time had slowed down. It was love at first sight.
They started talking and fell deeply in love. But she had already been forcefully betrothed to Draelos by her parents. She had no choice. So, she took her sister's child, and Grimfor daughter, and raised her as Klara. It wasn't like she couldn't give birth. No, it was because Grimfor had made her promise that the first child, and every child she would ever have, would be his.
So, she cast a spell on herself, a powerful one, one that would prevent her from ever getting pregnant. No matter what Draelos and she did, it would never result in a child. She didn't want to know what would happen if Draelos ever found out. Draelos believed that Roshan and Klara were his blood?
But little did he know… they weren't.
Irene breathed in and out, gathering the strength she had left before moving towards the door. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it. The creaking hinges gave way to the sight that twisted her chest, Grimfor, lying on the bed, chained, still, and quiet like a forgotten prisoner. Her parents had locked him in there. Like an animal. Like he meant nothing.
He didn't sit up. He didn't move. He just spoke.
"How are you, Irene?"
Tears immediately threatened to fall, but Irene refused to let them win. She pulled herself together, masked her face with practiced poise, something she had perfected over the years. "I'm----"
But the moment Grimfor turned to look at her, she knew the mask was useless.
"You don't have to lie to me," he said softly. "I'm your mate, remember? I can sense your emotions. Especially when we're this close... in the same room."
She bit her tongue, trying to keep herself from breaking, but it was no use. If there were people she could never pretend with, it was her sister... and him.
In a sudden wave of emotion, Irene rushed forward, collapsing into his arms. She cried, raw, quiet sobs muffled into his shoulder.
"I really missed you," she said between tears. "I'm so sorry for what they did to you. I'm sure you hate me now."
Grimfor raised a chained hand and gently patted her head. "Shh... I could never hate you."
"How's Klara?" he asked.
"She's fine," Irene sniffled. "I'm taking good care of her. She's grown into a very fine lady."
Grimfor gave a small, tired smile. "I don't doubt that."
And when she saw his smile, so warm despite everything, Irene's heart clenched with guilt.
Even in this state, chained, imprisoned, discarded, he still managed to smile like that.
Why?
He should hate her. After everything.
Irene's chest ached with guilt. "I was the one who caused all this pain," she thought bitterly.
She wrapped her arms around him, tighter this time, as if she could shield him from all the hurt her choices had caused. Grimfor, without hesitation, returned the embrace.
"Eren," he said softly, using the name only he ever called her by, "take this."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate, silver hairpin. Its edges shimmered faintly with enchantment, and it held an heirloom's weight in its beauty.
"It belonged to Klara's mother. She always dreamed of passing it down to her first daughter. It's been in their family for generations."
Irene's hands trembled as she took it and slipped it into her pocket without a word.
"Grimfor…"
"Hmm?"
"I'm going to come for you. After all of this is settled. And maybe… maybe we can finally live a happy life. Find peace."
Grimford chuckled, a low sound that was both amused and sad.
"Eren… your hands are bound to things that don't seek peace. As long as you remain a DarkSpire, peace will only come to you through death."
She bit her lip hard. He was right. And there was no response she could offer. No words to undo the truth.
Grimfor reached out, brushing her hair gently behind her ear. His fingertips were rough, but his touch was soft.
"Let's enjoy this moment. I don't know when I'll see you again. But I'll wait. Always. Even if we are not alive… we'll be together through death."
Their faces were inches apart. Her breath caught. And then, his lips met hers in a kiss, gentle, but full of sorrow, longing, and every emotion neither of them could speak aloud.
Just then, the room shifted. The air cracked with magic.
In a flash, her sister Maya's teleportation spell activated, ripping Irene away and returning her to her room.
The kiss ended as suddenly as it began.
And Irene was left alone, the weight of the hairpin still heavy in her pocket, and Grimford's warmth fading from her skin.
"Quit doing your lips like that," Maya said flatly, licking the crumbs of pie off her thumb. "Let's go. Father and Mother are both waiting for us downstairs."
Irene stood frozen for a second. "Why did you bring me back now? I still had ten more minutes."
Maya shrugged, casually biting into the last chunk of her pie. "You should be grateful I did. Mother was already heading there. If I hadn't teleported you when I did, she would've seen you in the basement."
Irene looked away, frustrated. "Why do they have to chain him like that? Why—"
"I don't know," Maya interrupted dryly. "Go ask Mother."
With a lazy flick of her wrist, she cleaned up the crumbs with magic. Then, snapping her fingers, she triggered one of her stored teleport spells, sending all their loose belongings directly into Irene's room in Duskhelm.
"Let's go."
The sisters descended the stairs. As they reached the main hall, just as Maya had said, their mother emerged from the hallway that led to the basement. Irene tensed but composed her expression quickly.
"You both are already ready to go to Duskhelm," their father, Graham, said in his usual curt tone. "Good. What you should keep in mind is this, make sure you complete the ingredients by making Roshan king."
"Calling my son an ingredient?" Maya's face twisted into a scowl. "Really, Father?"
Unlike Irene, who always kept her composure and wore a practiced, polite expression, Maya said whatever she felt, consequences be damned.
"Maya…" their mother warned softly.
But Graham simply raised a brow and looked at his wife. "Let her be. She's always like that."
His voice dropped back to its commanding edge. "If you don't complete this goal, you both know the consequences."
The room fell into silence, heavy with unspoken threats and pressure.
And the clock was ticking.
"You may go now," Louise said calmly.
An awkward silence followed.
Maya glanced sideways at Irene. "It's time to go. Didn't you hear?"
"Oh." Irene's voice was small, her hands instinctively squeezing the fabric of her gown. She didn't want to leave, not yet, but what choice did she really have?
Before she could say anything else, Louise raised her hands, casting the teleportation spell over her daughters. In a shimmer of light, the two disappeared.
Graham folded his arms. "Do you think Maya will be distracted?"
Louise exhaled. "You and I both know her plan: complete the goal and leave this family behind. But… I don't think she'll lose focus."
"Good," Graham nodded. A silence passed before he said casually, "Let's go to the room."
Louise arched a brow, though her cheeks turned a soft pink. "To do what?" she asked, even though she already knew.
A slow grin crept onto Graham's face. "The usual."
********
Ellie returned to her room, placing a stack of books neatly on her shelf. One book, however, *the one about Elira and Maeron*, she kept on her bed, intending to read it later.
After arriving downstairs. Not wasting time, she collected her newly tailored outfit. Once she slipped it on in the dressing room, she couldn't help but admire how well it fit. The off-shoulder design hugged her shape, and the slit added just enough elegance and edge.
When she stepped out, expecting to find her family, she realized they hadn't come out yet. Alone and brimming with boldness, an idea sparked.
She walked over to the royal painter, who was finishing details on another commission.
"I'd like a solo portrait," Ellie said, her voice confident. "And I want it completed today."
The painter blinked. "My princess… royal portraits take at least three days to finish. That is the minimum, especially of your standard."
Ellie smiled faintly. "I'm aware."
Then, her eyes glinted softly as her pupils shimmered with magic. With a subtle gesture, she activated her mind magic, weaving a suggestion into the painter's thoughts.
You will finish my solo painting today and make it really seductive to the eyes.
The man's resistance faded, and he nodded slowly. "Yes, yes… I think I can get it done today."
"You will do a very beautiful solo painting of me and finish it before midnight," Ellie said, her voice slow and commanding. "Make it… sexy."
The painter, who had already fallen under her subtle enchantment, lowered his head. "Yes, Princess. I shall do that."
A satisfied smile curled up on Ellie's lips. Everything was falling into place.
Just then, she heard her mother's voice call out from behind her. "Ellie, how does this dress look on me?"
Ellie turned and gave a graceful nod. "Very pretty, Mother. Fit for a queen."
Queen Lucy fanned herself, the corners of her lips lifting. "My dear, you truly have a way with flattering words."
Soon, everyone had stepped out from the dressing rooms. The tailor had taken all their measurements and taken their royal attire precisely for the upcoming event, Princess Aralyn's wedding.
Once dressed, they all made their way to the throne platform.
The king and queen sat upon the grand twin thrones, regally poised in their traditional authority. Ellie positioned herself beside her father, while Dorian took the place next to their mother. A harmony of royal blood and elegance.
"Your Highness," the painter said, now holding his tools with focus, "please, I need you to smile and take the posture you'd like to appear in the portrait."
Queen Lucy lifted her chin, flicked open her decorated fan, and struck a soft but commanding pose.
The king, as always, needed no instruction. His natural authority exuded power, even in stillness. Dorian sat firm and calm, his eyes focused and distant.
Then there was Ellie.
She placed her hands delicately on her lap and wore a wild, radiant smile.
Because why wouldn't she smile?
In just three days, her childhood crush, the one she had secretly longed for, would finally fall madly, irreversibly in love with her.
She had made sure of it.
And everything was just beginning.
After five long minutes of holding the same regal pose, the painter finally lowered his charcoal stick and gave a small nod. The sketch was done.
Queen Lucy, ever the first to speak, sighed in relief and gently lowered her hand from the air. "That was truly tiring. I expect nothing less than perfection."
King Valmir waved at one of the servants and said, "Give the painter ten gold coins. And I expect five copies. Take your time, but I want them all within fifteen days."
Ellie turned to her father with eager eyes. "Father, can I get a solo painting too?"
He looked at her fondly. "Of course, you can."
Ellie's smile widened. She turned and signaled the painter with her hand to follow her to her chambers.
Once they arrived, Ellie positioned herself in the center of her lavish room. The windows let in soft golden light, and the rich curtains framed the space like a private stage. She slipped into a seductive pose on her lounge, one that emphasized both elegance and allure.
"Get the sketches right," she said, her voice soft but commanding.
Ten minutes passed. Eli hadn't moved a muscle. The painter worked diligently, his eyes darting between parchment and princess. But she didn't mind the discomfort. If it meant Roshan would wake up and see this exact portrait hanging near his bed, she could stayed in this exact posture for hours.
The thought alone nearly made her giggle. But she held it in.
A few more strokes later, the painter stepped back and bowed. "I'm done with the sketches, Your Highness."
Ellie stretched, shaking off the stiffness from her limbs. "You may go now."
She turned, ready to sink into her plush bed and continue reading the story of *Elira and Maeron*, the part where they went to the mortal realm.
But just as she reached for the book, a knock sounded.
"My Princess, I'm sorry if I bothered you" a voice said behind the door.
She didn't hide her irritation. Of course you did, she thought.
"Yes?" she said aloud.
"Your father requests your presence in his study."
Ellie sighed. So much for quiet time. She straightened her gown and headed for the study, wondering what her father wanted this time.
When she entered, King Valmir was already standing. His eyes locked onto her with urgency.
"Ellie" he said, "I need your mind abilities."
Ellie turned to face him fully. Her pulse quickened. So this was why he called her.
If there was one thing Eli enjoyed, it was experimenting with her mind magic. The power to bend, twist, and extract thoughts. The thrill of it never got old.
She bowed slightly, her voice smooth. "I will be honored, Your Majesty, to assist you."
"Good," Valmir said, lowering his voice. "But you must keep this between us. No one is to know who or what you're using your powers on. Especially your mother. If she asks, come up with something reasonable. You're clever enough."
"I understand," Ellie said, already intrigued.
The king stepped to the far side of the study and pressed a hidden panel on the wall. A soft click echoed, and a hidden passageway opened, leading downward.
"To the dungeon," he said simply.
Ellie followed, her heartbeat rising with anticipation.
Oh, this is going to be fun, she thought, a wicked grin flickering in her mind.