House Vernhardt.
Sometimes, Verona wished she could say she wasn't born a Vernhardt, but other normal family without any requirement to have ability to control elements to be loved or appreciated.
Because in this house, power was everything, and unfortunately she had none.
For as long as she could remember, House Vernhardt had been a name spoken with awe. The Vernhardts were born with miracles where they could control elements and dubbed as the kingdom's pride who could almost command the world itself. Her father was able to control fire where he could burn fown forests with a sigh. Brion, the eldest son, inherited that same ability. Then came the twins who commanded wnd and earth respectively. Her twin brother, Varon, And Marien, the youngest and most adored because she had two elements on her palm. The miracle child, they said.
And then Verona, the one who was born without that ability.
She was the first ever Vernhardt in history to be ordinary or so everyone believed.
They said when a Vernhardt was born, there would be a sign, but nothing happened for her.
Thanks to that, people called her the cursed one. That she didn't belong in the powerful Vernhardt House where she was nothing without any power.
Perhaps they were right.
Ever since childhood, she learned to keep her head down. Her father made sure to let her know that she had no right to be called his daughter. The servants treated her like she was from a lower rank than them and the guards exchanged smirks and pointing fingers. What about her siblings? Well, they rarely bothered to hide their contempt of her.
Her mother had died after Marien's birth. Verona barely remembered her face. Just a vague impression of pale hands and a perfume that smelled of wilted lilies. Even before her death, her mother had never looked at Verona with warmth, only disappointment, as though she'd failed the gods by bringing forth something broken.
She used to tell herself that it was okay but who she lied to? Every insult, cruel joke, ignored plea had built itself into her heart. Still, she endured it. What else could she do? When even your blood despised you, no use of hoping the others would.
Liera had been the only light in those years. Only Liera had ever shown her kindness. Sweet, gentle Liera, the girl her father had adopted from an orphanage for her healing gift.
Funny, isn't it? Liera was not her blood, yet she'd been more of a sister than anyone else ever dared to be.
As she reached the end of the hall, voices drifted from the garden outside.
Today, Verona wore one of Liera's old dresses, soft lavender, worn at the edges, but still beautiful. Liera always tried to give her new ones, and Verona always refused. She couldn't stand the idea of her sister being punished for kindness and she also didn't think she deserved it.
But today felt different. Maybe because it was her second chance at life. Whatever it was, she couldn't pretend to be the same meek Verona anymore.
The maids stopped their gossiping when she passed. Their eyes flicked over her gown, her posture, the slight lift of her chin. Something in her demeanor must've startled them, because no one whispered this time.
She stepped into the garden. The air was damp, filled with the scent of rain-soaked earth and early blooms.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Peace, she told herself. Just a few minutes of peace.
"Verona!"
The voice made her flinch, but not out of fear. She turned slowly, and there was Varon. Her younger twin brother by five minutes. Same blue eyes, same dark hair, but everything else about them couldn't have been more different. She remembered how they used to play as children. Before he learned how to weaponize affection.
"Where's Liera?" he asked. The one that said answer me properly or regret it.
"I don't know," she said, gaze sliding away to the fountain.
Varon frowned and stepped closer. "Look at me when I talk to you." He gripped her chin with his cold fingers.
She stiffened. The command scraped old wounds. For some good reason on his part, Varon always thinked that he was the most dominant twin.
That used to work. Used to make her tremble, nod, apologize even when she'd done nothing wrong.
Not this time.
Verona's hand shot up, knocking him away. "Don't touch me."
For a second, they both froze, the surprise flickering in his eyes was almost comical.
"You can't be deaf. I said I don't know."
"What's gotten into you?" he muttered. "And what are you doing here, dressed like that?"
"It's none of your business, Varon."
"Don't get smart with me-"
Before he could finish, two familiar voices broke in.
"Well, look who's here." Rheo's laugh rang across the garden, followed by Gheo's amused snort. The twins approached, all with casual arrogance and unspoken malice. "We sent you to look for Liera, not this useless thing."
Gheo came forward, always being the serious one. "Where's Liera, Verona?"
"I already told your lovely little brother here," Verona said, forcing calm into her tone. "I don't know where she is."
And with that, she turned to leave.
"Hold on," Rheo said, grabbing her wrist. "We're not done talking. You think you can just walk away?"
Verona looked down at his hand, then up into his face. Her eyes were calm, but something in them made him hesitate. Something in her snapped.
Her gaze lifted, sharp as a blade. "What are you going to do, Rheo? she asked quietly. "Crack the ground open and bury me again like you did when we were children?"
Her words landed like a slap. Rheo's smirk faltered.
"Oh, you remember that?"
"How could I forget?" she said, her voice low. "You laughed while I screamed for help. Everyone did."
She saw the flicker of recognition, the memory he thought she'd forgotten. The day he had trapped her in a pit of stone, laughing as she cried for help. Three days she had been stuck there before Liera found her, half-starved and shaking.
Rheo's hand dropped.
"Didn't think I'd remember, did you?" she said softly. "I remember everything."
Verona turned away and started walking again with a blank face. But inside she was trembling. Not from fear, but from release. Years of humiliation, swallowed and buried, finally pushing through the cracks.
Her footsteps led her to the grand staircase, the same one she'd once fallen down after Marien "accidentally" pushed her during a family gathering. No one had helped her up that day. Not even Varon.
Her lips curled into a humorless smile. "Different lifetime," she said softly. "Different Verona."
She started walking again, this time toward the east wing, where her father's study was. She had been meaning to speak with him about Elric's proposal, though she wasn't so sure about it now.
Even the thought of his name made her stomach tighten. Back then, she'd been too broken to notice the way he'd looked at her, or the way he'd tried to defend her once, foolishly, before being told to keep his distance.
She sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Tomorrow," she murmured. "Elric will be here tomorrow."