The Orchid & Dandelion (2)

What people had yet to discover about Vivianne was that occasionally, she'd visit her mother with the help of a harem maid by the name of Lynn. That was where Vivianne was that morning, disguised in a non-descriptive maid outfit.

Lyn had been one of the ladies whose jobs as wetnurses had gotten switched to temporary maids and cleaners. Meaning her salary had taken a significant hit from the job switch. Lyn had a child with a man who would burn every penny at the red light district's exotic dancers and entertainers.

Lyn had a small child with a severe skin disease, and she had been working extra to afford to travel to Pyla for the treatment needed to cure the child. Vivianne knew that, so she had deliberately approached the maid a year ago, ready to strike up a deal.

"I'll pay you double your salary if you take me to my mother," Vivianne had said. The real purpose wasn't to see her but to keep her company in case she could hear Vivianne.

The head maid assigned to Lady Charlotte had said that she was suffering from a horrible and transmittable disease. When Vivianne dug up her official medical records, it seemed genuine. Moreover, it had the king's seal, solidifying its legitimacy.

Disguised as one of Lyn's subordinates, Vivianne travelled through the ornated and smoky halls of the royal harem. On the consort's floor, there was barely anyone around except for two guards who had immediately scurried away when they each received a bag of Norian coins.

She leaned closer to the consorts jade door, resting her forehead on its cold exterior, where she grieved that she couldn't see her mother. As the last consort's daughter, Vivianne was considered less than her siblings, born of the higher-ranked consorts and queen.

It was told that once, the king had regarded Lady Charlotte as his most beloved. All was well, and Charlotte quickly bore his child after arriving at the castle. It was a love so pure that lotus flowers could easily thrive in it.

Never had anyone seen the king as mellow; suddenly, he was easy to negotiate with. Charlotte was the only consort allowed to step out of the harem's walls, and each time she did, she'd bring the king a tulip flower.

His wife, Henrietta, had been inconsolable with jealousy, scared of losing her position as queen to that mere consort. However, she had been raised to rule and was a perfect monarch, at least in her own book.

During the rain season, Lady Charlotte was soon expected to deliver a healthy child, and as her birthday approached, a party was held in her honour. It was grandiose and scheduled to go on for ten days and ten nights. Even commoners were invited to the palace to socialize and dance.

The consort had arrived at her party wearing her long blond hair down, glowy from her pregnancy. She sat down at the long table with the king and queen at its head. In a cruel twist of fate, she had sat next to a plotting Henrietta, who had offered to pour her her first cup of tea. As a graceful and welcoming young lady, Charlotte accepted with a wide smile.

It was abrupt and unexpected when the consort collapsed, clutching her heavy stomach in pain. She had been poisoned, her mouth frotting from the chemicals she had gulped down. The court physician, who had only attended in case Charlotte would go into labour, had saved her life.

But it was too late; Charlotte had lost her first child, a boy with glimmering blond hair like her. In addition, she had suffered from a heart attack in her despair, rendering her bed bound for the foreseeable future.

Henrietta had comforted the king, who had turned to expensive wine in his anxiety. With intensive treatment and close monitoring, Charlotte had recovered, albeit she was still weak, and sometimes she'd start to weep unprompted.

The following year, the king refused to leave Charlotte alone. Henrietta had only pushed the two lovers closer in her attempt to drive a wedge between the couple.

With time Charlotte stopped grieving as much. To her, grief was like vast and terrifying waves that smashed everything at first, but with each night in her lover's arms, she dared to dream of concurring those waves.

She swore to make them small currents, and she did when she conceived her second child. It was a difficult pregnancy, with many scares and concerns.

In the end, Charlotte delivered Vivianne, but from there on out, all hope of her recovery was diminished.

The fact that Charlotte had given birth to a healthy child so adorned by the king that he kept the small child's bed in his office was enough for Henrietta to lose her twisted mind.

Henrietta called the harem madam over for tea time, where she privately spoke her grievances. The madam had a sympathetic smile as she reached over the coffee table and grabbed the queen's hands.

"This very reliable subordinate of mine will assist you in everything you need." The harem madam had said, her old face twisting into a greedy grin.

After hearing the harem madam's plan, Henrietta agreed it was the only possible way to stop Charlotte's influence over the king.

"Get the makeup to the consort's room."

The infamous death powder of the red light district was imported into the harem, overseen by the greedy harem madam, who had received a hefty donation from the queen. Then, by Henrietta's recommendation, Rebecca, the former wet nurse, got promoted to Charlotte's lady-in-waiting.

The deterioration didn't start quickly, slowly, slowly; it began with Charlotte simply suffering from headaches and night terrors. Soon, it evolved into severe mood swings and irrational anxiety. Before she realized it, she was deemed unsafe for her child and banned from meeting the infant.

"My...Vivianne..." The consort whispered as she lay in her drenched covers that nobody was changing, shaking and weeping. It had been the fourth time that the king had missed their meeting.

At that stage, only one thing could save Charlotte from drowning: her journal and the thought of her lover visiting her and rescuing her from the harem. So she wrote everything she could remember before it was too late.

She picked the name Vivianne because her princess was a lively child in the womb, how her heart had leapt when the king had scooped her up on his horse after her village got seized. She wrote about her first child, Amadeus, and all the plans she had made for him.

She didn't know if she'd greet the following day with a sound mind, but if she could wish for one thing before her passing, it was to have her baby and her lover near her.

But that dream would never come true. Henrietta had gone one step further in her paranoia and sent the young princess to a faraway nursery. Not only that, but she had also ordered the senior physician to forge a false diagnosis for the third consort.

The old physician had presented the false findings to the king, who had no choice but to seal the consort's room. He stamped his official seal on the document, his heart heavy and consumed in grief.

That senior physician had mysteriously vanished the following day, and the old journal of the third consort had ended up at Vivianne's nursery, sent anonymously.

"Remember the time grandma took you to the solstice festival? You wrote that it was the happiest day of your life," Vivianne recalled fondly; the small picture in the book of a tiny Charlotte holding her dad's hand at a market was etched into Vivianne's mind.

"When they find a cure, I'll bring you there again, Mother. Then, it can also be the happiest day of my life." Vivianne said, wishing she'd heard her mother's voice at least once.

"Mother, remember when you wrote that God had given me to you so I could heal your pain? Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do that for you; I'm sorry that I let you drown." she sniffed, wiping the tears away. Lyn cleared her throat from a distance to signal that Vivianne's visit was ending.

"It seems like your attendants have returned from their vacation," Lyn spoke, but Vivianne remained facing the door, completely engulfed in her thoughts.

"Wait for me. I swear I'll save you,"