⚠️ Trigger Warning:
(This chapter contains scenes mentioning of sexual assault, trauma, and its aftermath. It may be distressing or triggering, especially for readers with related past experiences. Please proceed with care and prioritize your well-being.)
When Aquila came to, she realized she was being carried—slung over a shoulder as though she were nothing more than a sack of grain. Her head throbbed with every step, her vision blurred, but even in that haze she could feel the strength of the one who bore her. Slender though Stel looked, she carried Aquila with effortless ease.
A jolt ran through Aquila's body when Stel finally set her down. Her palm instinctively went to the back of her skull where the pain pulsed. Voices reached her ears before her sight fully cleared.
"Sister Stelllll!!"
The cry was playful, boyish, and full of energy. Footsteps thundered across the stone until a body leapt into Stel's arms.
"Careful," Stel murmured, steadying the boy with practiced ease.
"Geez, Steven, stop it," another voice sighed, scolding in tone.
"Oh… Sister, who's this?" Steven asked, pointing toward the figure slumped on the floor—Aquila, her hood still shadowing her face.
Aquila coughed, wincing as the movement sent a sharp ache through her head.
"Uh…" Stel began, clearly unprepared with an answer.
"Sister! You never told us you'd come home today!" another voice called out brightly, echoing closer.
Then a teasing remark: "Uhm, don't tell me you found a stray—"
"Don't call her a stray, Elijah! That's rude!" Steven snapped at his twin, glaring.
Their banter stilled when Aquila slowly lifted her head.
Her breath caught.
The world seemed to tilt beneath her as her silver eyes met the unmistakable crimson gaze she had once known so well. For a heartbeat, everything inside her stopped—her pulse, her thoughts, even her breath.
Steven's eyes widened first, then Elijah's, then Eloisa's.
All of them froze, stiff as statues.
"Uh… do you guys know her?" Stel asked, tilting her head, clearly confused by the heavy silence that had fallen.
But Aquila's heart sank lower with every glance around her. The familiar archways. The coral-carved walls gleaming softly in the lamplight. Her stomach turned cold.
The Coral Palace.
The Nexus Kingdom.
Why? How?
Her disoriented gaze slid back to Stel, her lips parting. No crimson eyes like the rest of them—but her hair. That hair, light and fine, was unmistakably the same shade as the King's.
Aquila bit her lip, fighting the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her again.
Before she could gather her bearings, another voice chimed in, warm and familiar:
"What is going—oh! Stella!!"
The sound of hurried footsteps filled the hall. Then they slowed, hesitant, faltering.
Crimson eyes met silver.
Zuleika stopped dead in her tracks, her expression frozen, her lips parting as though the air had been knocked from her chest.
Aquila's throat tightened. She wanted to speak, to breathe, to say anything—but her lips trembled instead, and her breath broke into a shallow swallow.
"…Lei," Eloisa whispered softly, turning toward Zuleika.
But before Zuleika could move, before she could even fully comprehend the sight before her, Aquila's body gave out. Darkness swept over her as she fainted once more, overcome by the dizziness and the pounding in her head.
Stella exhaled, her voice calm yet heavy. "Akira, bring her to a room."
"Yes, yes!" Akira scrambled to help, panic coloring her voice as she lifted Aquila with the aid of her staff.
"And the rest of you…" Stella's blue eyes swept to her siblings, unusually sharp beneath her lazy tone. "…explain. To me. Now."
Her words cut through the silence, but her gaze lingered—softening only when it flickered toward Zuleika.
For the first time, her ever-indifferent eyes betrayed something else.
Worry.
Because Zuleika's hand trembled ever so slightly.
...…
Three months ago, when the Jewel of Nexus returned home, the kingdom itself seemed to shatter.
From the day she stepped foot inside the Coral Palace, Zuleika did not leave her chamber. Curtains drawn, doors locked, she cloistered herself away as though the world outside might devour her again. She would wake screaming in the middle of the night, panic clawing at her chest, her crimson eyes wild with terror as if the shadows themselves carried hands to touch her.
For days she remained silent. But on the fifth day, when her mother once again entered her chamber, quietly sitting by her side, coaxing her with gentle words, the dam finally broke. Zuleika trembled, lips quivering, and then she sobbed, the truth spilling from her in broken fragments.
And Elisha, the Queen of Nexus, listened.
Her heart cracked with every word her daughter managed to force out. She did not wait. That very night, she told Stewart.
The King's rage burned white-hot. Without delay, he took up his sword and rode for the Empire of Feltogora. Those who saw him said his eyes were like storms; those who heard the whispers claimed that in the Emperor's very chamber, Stewart raised his blade, ready to strike.
When he returned, it was not as a King but as a father. He entered Zuleika's chamber and sank to his knees before her, his broad shoulders trembling.
"It is my fault," he whispered, tears streaking his weathered face. "I let them put you in harm's way. I accepted their bargain. I—"
Zuleika collapsed with him, sobbing into his chest, their grief bleeding into one another. In that moment, there was no King, no Princess—only father and daughter, clinging desperately to one another as though their shared sorrow might somehow make the weight lighter.
But even tears could not erase what had happened.
A month passed. Slowly, Zuleika forced herself out of her chamber. It was no miracle—her steps were small, her voice soft, her smile hesitant. But each step into the corridors, each moment she endured the daylight, was a victory in itself.
Healing was not kind, nor was it simple. Some nights she would curl against her pillow, her body wracked with quiet sobs as shame and self-loathing gnawed at her heart. She despised the way her skin felt tainted, her body no longer hers. Though she knew her family would hold her, would shoulder her pain if only she let them, she kept it inside.
Because Zuleika, even in her brokenness, could not bear to burden those she loved most.
And so, the Jewel of Nexus carried her scars in silence.
...
Aquila woke up once again. She was lying in a chamber—the first thing her eyes caught was the high white ceiling, adorned with delicate carvings of waves. A design unmistakably Nexus.
At her side sat a figure watching her, bright blue eyes gleaming beneath pale silver hair.
"Yo-ho!" the girl greeted with a sudden cheer, then winced and scratched the back of her neck apologetically. "Uh… first of all, I'm sorry for hitting your head."
So she was the one who struck me…
Aquila exhaled, her hand brushing over her temple as she pushed herself upright. Strangely, the pain she had felt earlier was gone.
"So, uh, in exchange…" the silver-haired girl lifted her staff with a proud little grin, "…I made your pain go away."
Aquila's voice was low, hoarse from disuse. "Where am I?"
The girl leaned in, still smiling. "Oh, you're in Nexus Kingdom. Ah—and I'll leave you for a bit!" she added quickly, standing in a flurry before darting out of the room.
Left alone, Aquila's gaze drifted to the window, where sunlight spilled through sheer curtains. The light was warm, too real.
So it wasn't a dream…
Her chest tightened. How had she ended up here? She had followed the butterfly, certain it would lead her far from danger, far from the shadows of her home. So why had her path brought her to Nexus of all places?
Her thoughts scattered when the door creaked open once more. A tall, composed figure entered—Queen Elisha of Nexus.
Aquila froze, uncertain whether to bow or speak. The silence between them was thick, each second stretching unbearably long.
"Your Highness," Elisha finally spoke, her voice even but unreadable as she sat across from Aquila. "What are you doing near the Nexus Kingdom?"
Aquila's lips parted, but it took her a moment to find her voice. She let out a long breath. "I was running away from the Empire."
Elisha's brows drew faintly together. "Why?"
"They…" Aquila's jaw tightened, her eyes falling to her lap. "They make me sick." Her words were barely above a whisper, yet laced with venom.
Elisha's lips parted in quiet surprise.
"I didn't know I was near the Nexus Kingdom," Aquila continued. "If I had, I would have gone another way." Her hands curled in her lap, tightening against the fabric of her cloak.
Again, silence.
Then, Elisha's voice softened, though the weight of her question was anything but light. "Did you know… what happened to my daughter?"
Aquila's breath caught. She flinched, her chest burning as fury welled up inside her all over again.
"I found out too late," she hissed, her tone cold, sharp enough to cut. "If I had known earlier, I would have told Princess Zuleika to leave the Empire immediately."
The memory surged like a tide she couldn't hold back. Aquila pressed a trembling palm to her face, as though she could hide the anguish written there.
If only she hadn't invited Zuleika that day.
If only she had been the one who walked into her chamber instead.
Not a single day in the past three months had passed without her cursing herself—without drowning in the thought that she could have stopped it all. She hated her brother, her blood, her family. But more than anything, she hated herself.
Elisha's stern composure faltered. For the first time, she saw Aquila not as the aloof princess she had once known, but as a girl—fragile, fraying at the edges, on the verge of breaking.
"I believe you," Elisha whispered, her voice gentle.
Aquila's eyes widened, her lips parting as though those words alone had stolen her breath.
"You…" her voice cracked faintly before she steadied it. "You believe me?"
Elisha's gaze softened, but her composure remained regal. "I do. A mother knows when someone speaks with truth in their bones. And you, Princess Aquila, are not lying."
The words pressed against Aquila's chest like both a comfort and a blade. Her throat tightened, her fists curling slightly in her lap. She wanted to believe them, wanted to let the guilt slip off her shoulders—but the images, the image of Zuleika's trembling that night, refused to leave her mind.
"I should have stopped it," Aquila whispered, her eyes glossing with unshed tears. "If I had been there… if I hadn't been so blind…"
Elisha reached out, not to touch, but to set her hand gently on the armrest between them—close, yet careful.
"If you carry that weight alone, it will crush you. My daughter… she does not need your guilt. She only needs your truth."
Aquila turned her head away, jaw clenched. Her cold mask cracked for just a moment, her eyes shimmering as though betraying the storm she tried to cage inside.
"Truth?" she echoed. "Would she even want to hear it from me? From someone who bears Revazkerio blood?"
The Queen's silence lingered, but it wasn't sharp. It was thoughtful. "Perhaps not today. Perhaps not tomorrow. But hearts change, Aquila. And wounds, even the deepest ones, will find ways to scar."
Aquila lowered her gaze, the bracelet on her wrist glinting faintly in the light. Zuleika's gift. The one thing she had not been able to remove. She brushed her thumb across it slowly, as though it might vanish if she pressed too hard.
"…I don't deserve her forgiveness," Aquila murmured.
Elisha's eyes followed the bracelet, then returned to Aquila's face. Her voice softened to almost a whisper.
"Perhaps. But forgiveness is not always about deserving, child. Sometimes, it is about choosing."