The enormous doors of the cathedral creaked open, inch by inch, until the vast hall revealed itself. A rich red carpet stretched out before them, and the faint fragrance of roses lingered in the air.

  As they stepped inside, cascades of light spilled from golden chandeliers above, scattering shimmering colors across the polished marble floor.

  Suddenly, the silence broke, and soft, angelic voices rose in harmony, at first like a whispered prayer, then swelling into a grand chorus that filled every corner of the cathedral.

  The orchestra joined in, strings and horns weaving together, their notes soaring toward the vaulted ceiling.

  Sunlight streamed through the stained glass at the front, painting the scene in brilliant hues that seemed almost divine.

  And there, at the heart of it all, stood the Pope. Yet, he was somehow young, his smile serene, his presence radiant due to his golden hair, while his red-golden eyes scanned the people who had entered the cathedral as though he was welcoming them not just into the place, but into grace itself.

  "Thank you for coming, people of God," he spoke warmly.

  "Today is the day your sons and daughters shall be baptized. It is my honor to perform this sacred rite."

  He smiled warmly, standing beside the golden bowl filled with holy water.

  Turning to his left, he gestured toward the first person in line.

  "That side shall be the first to come forward," he said gently.

  "Then, the next person will follow." With a graceful wave of his hand, he added,

  "Please, come here. We shall begin the baptism now."

  The woman on the left took a careful step forward, cradling her baby with a soft smile.

  "Good morning, Pope Frederick," she said, pausing as her gaze lingered on his striking red-golden eyes.

  For a moment, she seemed mesmerized by their otherworldly beauty.

  "It is an honor for us to know that you're the one who's going to baptize our children."

  Pope Frederick shook his head slightly, a warm smile still on his lips.

  "That should be my line, madam," he replied.

  It took several hours for the baptism to conclude. When the final chant faded, the sacristans moved with careful, almost reverent steps, carrying the golden bowl away as if it held the weight of heaven itself.

  Pope Frederick followed their movement with a sharp, measuring gaze, the faint gleam of candlelight reflecting in his eyes.

  Then, without warning, a middle-aged man appeared at his side.

  Draped in a pristine alb and crowned with a mitre, he wore a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

  "Your holiness, the documents you requested are waiting in your office," he said smoothly, his tone practiced yet deferential.

  Frederick turned his head slightly, the sharpness of his stare cutting through the dimly lit hall.

  "That is a relief," he replied, his voice low but firm.

  "I'm on my way there, Bishop Denise."

  As Frederick began to walk, his robe whispered against the marble floor.

  Denise fell into step behind him, his smile faltering as the echo of their footsteps filled the silence.

  "The incident in the orphanages," Denise began, his tone laced with unease, "those under our servitude… What are your thoughts, Frederick? If this reaches the public, our sanctity and our very reputation will slowly be tainted."

  Frederick didn't slow his stride. His eyes remained fixed forward, unreadable, as though the world itself were beneath his consideration.

  "There is no need for concern, Bishop Denise," he said at last, his voice cold and deliberate.

  "We will act as though we knew nothing of their misdeeds. With the authority we hold and the devotion of those who believe in us, it will be simple to shift the blame entirely onto the caretakers."

  "How about Queen Towa?"

  Frederick stopped mid-step, turning his head slightly, brows knitting in mild surprise.

  "What about her?" His red-gold eyes glinted, searching Denise's face for meaning, as if unsure why that name had surfaced.

  "I mean, she's the one who discovered it. I'm certain she knows those orphanages are under our control. That's why she'll be cautious around us now. She might already consider us her enemy."

  Frederick exhaled, the sound heavy yet calm, like a man brushing away a minor inconvenience.

  "I've met her before at the palace. She's timid, like a bird afraid to leave its cage."

  A sharp, almost sinister curve lifted his lips.

  "She's no threat to us, or to what we're planning. If necessary, I could manipulate her with little effort." He resumed walking, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow.

  "But she won't serve any real purpose for us."

  Denise nodded slightly, trailing behind him.

  "I see… that's good to know."

  Frederick's expression hardened, the smirk fading into something colder.

  "But the former Queen, Selene, I've heard she's coming back to the palace." He pressed his lips into a thin line.

  "She's different. Her influence over the rebellions makes her quite troublesome. Her presence alone is a very big threat to us."

  Denise's gaze hardened. "Then we stay low for now."

  The day had finally arrived.

  Towa's mother would visit the palace. The once serene halls now hummed with hurried footsteps and whispered instructions.

  Diana had ordered the maids to scrub every corner, walls gleamed, jars sparkled, and windows reflected the sunlight like sheets of crystal.

  The scent of rare spices drifted from the kitchen where the chefs worked tirelessly, determined to cook a meal worthy of royalty.

  Diana stood at the grand entrance, her posture poised yet tense.

  She wore an exquisite white dress that shimmered faintly beneath a flowing red cape, the soft weight of her crown resting perfectly atop her green hair.

  Though she dressed in care for every occasion, this attire carried an authority of its own, a quiet declaration of reverence for the guest about to arrive.

  The iron gates groaned open, revealing a black-and-gold carriage that rolled forward with an air of quiet command.

  Diana's gaze followed its every movement, her emerald eyes steady but touched with anticipation.

  As the carriage came to a stop and its door opened, a figure stepped into the light, and the breath caught in Diana's throat.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I've seen her face in the portraits on the palace walls, Diana thought, but they don't come close to this.

  The woman's long crimson hair caught the sunlight, strands igniting into glowing embers that seemed to dance in the breeze.

  Her eyes, deep red and fierce, burned with an unshakable dignity.

  She moved with the grace of someone who belonged not merely to this world, but to something beyond it.

  No wonder the King is madly in love with her. Diana exhaled softly, a fleeting sigh she hoped no one heard.

  While mesmerized by her mother's beauty, she failed to notice how close she had come until she was standing right in front of her. She dipped her head slightly in a respectful bow.

  "Forgive me for the sudden visit, Your Majesty. But I have something urgent to discuss."

  When she lifted her head, her gaze locked onto Diana's, yet something in her eyes had shifted, darkening like a storm rolling in.

  Diana's breath hitched. A sudden, chilling weight pressed into her chest, and her hands trembled despite her attempt to steady them.

  This… this isn't my fear. It's Towa's… lingering feelings.

  But she couldn't falter now. Not when the emotions clawing at her heart made it clear how formidable this encounter was about to become.

  "Good afternoon, Mother," she said, her voice measured calmly.

  "You don't need to apologize for visiting. I know you've been worried about me… and wanted to see for yourself if I'm doing well."

  Their eyes met, hers void of light, yet a faint, almost eerie smile tugged at her lips.

  "That's right," she replied softly. "I've been… extremely worried about you all this time."

  She pulled Diana into a tight embrace. For a fleeting moment, warmth lingered until—

  —Diana felt a sharp point pressing against her abdomen. Her eyes widened, darting to her mother's face, catching the faintest shadow of intent.

  "What are you doing?" she whispered, her lips barely parting, the tension in her jaw betraying her calm facade.

  "What are you saying? This is normal, and you cannot do anything about it because I'm your moth—"

  Diana's hand shot out, gripping her mother's wrist tightly.

  She stepped back, tension threading from her frame, her eyes narrowing to sharp, dangerous slits that left no room for defiance.

  "I don't care if you're my mother!" she hissed, each word carrying a deadly precision. "Pointing a sharp object at the Queen is a treason and a grave sin." She pressed her lips together tightly.

  "This is your last warning. If you dare threaten my life again, I will have you executed at the center of the Kingdom for all to see."

  She yanked her mother closer until their breaths nearly touched, her lips curling into a smile that held no warmth but only a glint of madness.

  Her once-vivid eyes darkened, hollow like a bottomless well.

  "I will say this one last time…" Diana whispered, her voice low, dangerous, almost intimate. "This is your last warning. Mother."

  And with that, she released her grip and turned away, her footsteps sharp against the floor.

  Her mother stood frozen, eyes wide, stunned by the sudden ferocity.

  Then, slowly, her hands rose to cup her flushed cheeks, her breath spilling out in a shaky, almost giddy exhale.

  Her face burned red, her eyes shimmering with a strange excitement.

  "S-S-Since w-when did she become l-like that?!" she stammered, biting her thumbnail with trembling eagerness.

  "S-She's like h-her father… so aggressive… so… appealing. I… I want to bully her more!!!"

  At the dining table, Diana sat in the left corner while her mother sat at the right, directly across from her.

  The air between them was dense, heavy enough to make every breath feel deliberate.

  Even the maids, including Rose, wore the weight of it, their brows furrowed as they moved about.

  The faint clatter of dishes trembled through the room, betraying the slight shake in their hands.

  As they carefully placed the dishes on the table, their hands trembled ever so slightly. Diana noticed it, the small, betraying shiver, and when Rose placed a plate before her.

  Diana's fingers curled softly around the fabric of her dress, offering her a calm, reassuring smile.

  "Calm down, Rose."

  Rose closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, though her voice still wavered when she spoke.

  "I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I tried to steady myself, but I couldn't contain this nervousness. I'm so afraid of making a mistake… especially in front of you."

  Diana let out a quiet laugh, light but genuine, her gaze softening into something kind.

  "Mistakes lead to success, Rose. Even I have no right to judge someone who's trying their best."

  Selene's eyes widened, shock flashing across her face. She could hardly believe such words had come from her timid, once-weak daughter.

  Her lips pressed into a thin line, as if holding something back.

  "Now that I think about it," Selene said at last, her voice laced with a calm severity,

  "The maids from before I left are nowhere to be found." Her eyes flickered with curiosity, but with sharpness within them.

  "What did you do?"

  "I fired them all."

  "Huh?!" Selene's voice cracked, disbelief flickering across her face.

  Diana didn't waver. She met her mother's eyes head-on, refusing to look away.

  "Their behavior toward me worsened by the day. They seemed to forget that I am their Queen, the one who holds the highest authority in this Kingdom."

  Selene's right eye twitched.

  "I… I see. You've changed so much in such a short time."

  Diana shook her head slowly.

  "No, I haven't changed. You just never gave yourself the time to look at me." Her lip curved into a smile.

  "That's… unfortunate for you,"

  Selene cleared her throat sharply, reaching for her fork and knife.

  She began to eat, though her movements betrayed a slight stiffness.

  Diana smiled faintly, sensing her mother's discomfort, before turning her attention to her own meal.

  I hate this woman…she reminds me of my good-for-nothing mother. She muttered to herself.

  The faint clink of utensils against porcelain mingled with the soft ticking of the clock filled the silence that weighed heavily over the table.

  The maids stood by, watching every motion carefully, too afraid to speak.

  "By the way, where is your secretary and general who always stays by your side?"

  Finally, Selene spoke, her tone calm as she delicately sliced the food on her plate.

  "They have their own respective duties to attend to. That's why they aren't here."

  Diana replied, taking a measured bite, her composure unshaken.

  Selene arched her brow, watching for the slightest flicker of uncertainty.

  "Even if they did, you would've ordered them to stay by your side before because of how timid you used to be."

  Her gaze lingered, searching Diana's face for a crack in her facade, yet all she found was the quiet rhythm of her daughter's movements as she continued eating with unbroken poise.

  "You've really changed."

  Diana placed the fork beside her plate, her fingers light yet deliberate. Lifting her chin, she met Selene's eyes.

  "What is the reason for your visit? You told me earlier you had something urgent to discuss. What is it?"

  She resumed her meal, but the edge in her voice lingered, faint yet enough to disturb the calm like a small ripple on still water.

  Selene took a slow sip from her glass of wine, the crimson liquid catching the light of the sun before sliding past her lips. She swallowed, exhaled softly, and then spoke with deliberate clarity.

  "I want you to hand over the crown to the Duke of the North."

  The words struck inside her mind.

  Diana's hands froze mid-motion, the fork suspended just inches from her plate.

  Her eyes widened just enough to betray a flicker of shock before narrowing again, the tension settling in her brows.

  "Huh?"