When her frown only deepened, I turned toward the other parent in the room; my father, the king, who sat at the center of his desk surrounded by towers of documents and ink stains of diplomacy.
"Father," I pleaded, stepping closer, "please ask Mother to give me permission. Just this once."
The king paused, his quill hovering. He glanced at me, then at the queen, before chuckling softly.
"My queen," he said, in his voice gentle, "let our princess go and have her fun. Children are meant to do odd things."
The queen's eyes snapped to him, sharp enough to cut stone. "She is not a child anymore," she replied stone cold. The glare she leveled at him could have reduced lesser men to ashes.
The king coughed, lowered his gaze, and promptly returned to his paperwork as though he had never opened his mouth.
Ah, men are afraid of there wives no matter where. But I was undeterred. I again shifted my attention towards the true sovereign. This was a boss battle, and I had a secret weapon: The Ultimate Daughter Combo. Big watery eyes along with soft voice. Elbow tilt of desperation. And for the finishing blow; the slight head tilt, also known as Pure Guilt Manipulation, Level 99. I was deep in full-blown NPC persuasion mode.
Her silence lasted through at least three of my most theatrical sighs before she finally, grudgingly, relented.
"Fine," she said. "Take a few royal guards and your maids. You are not to be seen, not to disturb them, and if anything even resembles impropriety—"
"I'm already gone!" I said hugging her and kissing her hand before she could finish talking. My silk skirts swished as I practically skipped out of the chamber. Through the door, I heard the queen's voice call after me: "ELI! Do not run and come back safely, do not create trouble for your brother," or something along those lines.
Mission Accepted: Emotionally Appropriate Royal Witness
The kiss was happening tonight. And I was not going to miss it. No matter what.
***
The heavy doors closed behind me with a sweep of velvet and a ripple of excited chatter from my maids echoing down the corridor.
Inside, the king did not lift his gaze from the battlefield of documents spread across his desk, their golden seals glittering in the lamplight. But the corner of his mouth curved, betraying amusement.
"Let her go," he murmured, still scribbling something in sharp, precise strokes. "She's young and full of energy. Let her feel life even if it's through someone else's love story."
The queen lingered by the tall windows, framed by curtains that billowed like restless shadows. Beyond the glass, the city shimmered under the dying light, carriages gathering at the gates in tiny sparks of gold. Her hands were folded, but not at ease. Her profile was carved from worry.
"I'm not worried about her," she said after a pause.
The king's quill stilled. He lifted his eyes, his brows knitting. "Then what troubles you, My Queen?"
She didn't answer immediately. Only kept her gaze on the far edge of the city, where the horizon bled from gold into bruised blue.
"The witch," she whispered finally.
He blinked pausing for a few moment. Then as if remembering someone he said,
"The old one? The one from—wait. Did you summon her?" he asked, his brow furrowing further.
The queen's face, when she turned, was unreadable .
"Has Vaelira ever come when summoned?"
"…No," the king admitted, frowning. "She goes where she pleases. Always has."
A quiet breath escaped the queen, half laugh and half sigh, heavy with resignation.
"She said she will be here tonight," the queen replied. "No reason given. But her prophecies…" She faltered. "…They always come true. And they are never kind."
And the chamber dimmed with the coming night, as though the walls themselves were bracing for ill tidings.
The queen turned back toward the window. The king glanced down, only to see his ink blotting into a dark pool across his signature. He sighed—
And then they froze. Mid-motion in their mid-thought. As if someone had hit pause on their very existence.
The queen's breath halted halfway through her chest. Her eyes remained wide, unblinking, fixed on nothing. And the king's hand hovered in the air, quill still in his hands, but never falling.
They both remained statues. Not merely still, but emptied, as if someone had pressed pause on their very existence. Their gazes were open yet vacant, glassy like dolls abandoned on a dusty stage, waiting for the next line of code.
A suffocating stillness swallowed the royal study. But it didn't last long. Somewhere in the palace or perhaps far outside it, a static pulse crackled through the air. Soft at first, barely noticeable. Like an old radio tuning into something it was never meant to catch.
zzzzzt—kkkz—*zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk
"—how this story ends—"
*zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk*zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk
"—neither the queen knows—"
"—nor the princess."
The sound deepened, twisting into something mechanical, glitching, like a voice that had been shattered and was now clawing its way into a world it was never meant to enter.
"—This is not the ending… they were promised.—"
The words fractured, layered in dozens of tones, young and old, human and not. The castle itself seemed to shudder. Somewhere far above, the moon blinked—once, twice—as though the sky itself had developed a glitch.
"—The rules have changed.—"
zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk—zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk zzzzKKT—kkkrrrk—zzzzKKT—
"—A new path is being carved.—"
"—This tale… is no longer theirs.—"
And then, everything became silenced.
***
The capital blurred past my carriage window, glowing gold and lilac in the soft spill of dusk. We were leaving the polished heart of the city now where everything sparkled like a fantasy and were rolling toward the outskirts, where manicured streets gave way to blooming wilds and few lantern-lit trees swayed gently in the breeze.
The road twisted and rose slightly, winding through the low hills that cradled the outer edge of their capital "Elaris". I could see the slopes dipping into forested valleys, the treetops dyed amber and violet by the fading sun. It was the kind of place where fairies might flit between the leaves or where a shy heroine might trip into the arms of her beloved.
"This is it," I whispered to myself, grinning like a maniac.
"The first kiss scene. In the majestic garden. With the soft piano track in the background. The blush emerging in Mira's face . Their shy eye contact. This is peak fiction." I added, unable to stop the ridiculous smile and hysteric giggles spreading across my face.
Beside me, my maid Talia, long-suffering and lovely, sighed like she had personally raised me from birth and regretted every second.
She was beautiful in that elegant, understated way: smooth brown hair pinned perfectly behind her ears, soft brown eyes that always looked slightly exasperated, and the grace of someone who could balance a tea tray while lecturing you about royal etiquette.
Basically she is the older sister I never asked for in this story but absolutely needed.
"Princess, please don't fall out of the window trying to see them before we arrive."
I gave her a half-turn, wide-eyed. "Talia. My girl. My soul cannot rest if I don't witness this in real time."
"Didn't the Princess once claimed your soul left the mortal realm because of embroidery?" Talia murmured, one brow arched.
I gasped, clutching my chest as though mortally wounded. "Ah, the best companion, Talia, remembering my every word, huh?"
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the little smile tugging at her lips.
My gaze returned to look out again. Gods, I am excited.
I'd waited for this moment ever since the first update dropped. The kiss scene. The fluffy, heart-squeezing payoff of ten whole chapters of slow-burn tension and sweet misunderstandings. This was what one expects from a pure romance fluff novel, people, the good kind. The kind that makes you kick your feet and squeal and then replay it in your head fifty times before bed.
I knew every frame, every line of passing dialogue. I even imagined the camera angle which the story would've used if it were a drama.
Callisto would lean in, just barely, hesitant but magnetic.
Mirabel would look up in his eyes, her eyes shimmering like tea with too much honey, and then, slowly, she'd rise onto the tips of her toes, breath held, lips parted, expecting something sweet and inevitable.
And then, just as the flower petals fell…their lips brushed slightly with one another....her cheek went to a crimson shade, fully blushing-through-her-bones red. So yeah, I was glued to the window like a deranged romantic raccoon.
"I don't know how you can be royalty and this... unserious at the same time," Talia sighed.
I didn't even registered but I was kicking my feet in spirit, gripping the window ledge like it was a popcorn bucket at a midnight premiere.
And then suddenly—
The mechanical sound returned.
*zzzzzZT—kkkrrrzzch—*