1 The Empress of Hanafleur

He was the most beautiful blossom in the flower garden.

His hair was golden and it shined like the midday sun, shimmering as he walked along the perfumed path. His skin was fair, almost the colour of snow, were it not for the hints of pink that flushed his features. His eyes were shards of the coldest ice, piercing into the souls of those around him.

He had many supporters, for he was a powerful Emperor who fiercely defended his throne. A man who ruled with a beautiful heart and a beautiful face.

Indeed, he was the most beautiful blossom in the flower garden. And his thorns were the prickliest of them all.

Underneath that blossom was an indifferent man with a gaze so uncaring, it turned corpses cold.

In a room surrounded by towering bookshelves, she sat elegantly composed on a leather armchair. Her hair was the colour of oil, but it flowed like vines from the golden crown on her head - coiling as it brushed past her waist. Her citrine eyes rose from the faded pages of her book in her lap to the dark wood door. She closed the book gently, her mahogany coloured fingers contrasting against the yellow cover and the vibrant fabric of her glamorous red dress.

She squeezed her nose bridge as a weak chuckle escaped her, "How ridiculous am I? To think he would change his ways because our child was involved."

Placing the book to the side, she got off the leather armchair - standing tall as she straightened her posture. Hers was a figure that was simultaneously intimidating and breathtaking - a face of beauty that didn't belong on such a towering woman. She glimpsed at her reflection in the glass of the window. Straightening her crown, she took a deep breath as she fixed her posture.

Her back straight, she left that small library and entered into the halls of the Imperial Palace. Inside these halls, he held all the power, but she would be damned if she let him walk all over her with it.

As long as she bore this crown - she was the Empress, and nothing he did would change that.

"Don't you think the Empress was too vocal in her feud with His Majesty?" a servant questioned, "The Wilburg Kingdom attacked us first, wasn't His Majesty in the right to send his son to war?"

Her lady-in-waiting replied with scorn, "And to go so far as to attempt to use the Archduchies against him. How shameless! It's well known she disfavours him, can't she hide it any better?"

"Prince Jaxen must return from the Expedition promptly and seize Imperial duties. That commoner-loving woman has brought disgrace to the title of Empress. Empress Felicity must be rolling in her grave at the sight of her successor."

Such arduous gossip.

She pondered if their mouths ever grew tired of it.

Hers was an icy expression, marred by a practised smile of utmost pleasantry. She walked up to them, shoulders straight and chin high, awaiting their change in demeanour. It was instantaneous, like a chameleon desperate to hide from a predator. Their glares of scorn and distaste replaced by bright smiles, they bowed, but it wasn't out of respect.

They only bowed out of fear of losing their jobs.

"These humble servants greet Her Imperial Highness, Divine Empress!" her lady-in-waiting spoke, "How may we be of service to you?"

She smiled, "I'm looking for my husband. Has he left his meeting with the Generals of the Armies?"

"His Imperial Majesty was in the Royal Garden with Marchioness Shulburg, last I'd seen him."

She tried her best to stifle the scowl that was forming on her face. It was masked instead by a look of loathing.

"If you see my beloved husband before I do, tell him to meet me in the Royal Garden." She stated plainly, "It is of utmost importance."

Like the mice they were, her servants scurried off in various directions.

She continued her walk along the impeccable halls of the Imperial Palace, guiding herself with composure to her husband's beloved garden. The hallways weren't empty; the servants hastily walked around and avoided eye contact with her. They chose to bow to the woman who towered above them.

The Empress of Hanafleur carried with her an aura of elegance and ferocity. A vindictive woman who loathes the good Emperor, and would do anything within her power to corrupt the country. Her love for children and charity was an act designed to ridicule the noble class. She encouraged policies that would be the downfall of the world's greatest militant Empire.

Their biased whispers made her head dizzy, and her blood boiled - an awful combination. Her heels clicked against the tiled steps that led to the Royal Gardens, a deep breath filling her lungs as she sighed dramatically.

The Imperial Gardens or the Royal Garden of Hanafleur, whatever her husband was calling it now, was a breathtaking space. An ostentatious display of wealth and prosperity in the form of vivid flowers and lush green trees. She walked along the garden's path - taking in the sights of beautiful blossoms and slightly chilly air, reminding her that the world had only recently woken up.

Only weeks prior was the world blanketed by endless white snow.

She recalled a time when the Royal Garden had diversity - orchids, hyacinths, magnolias and carnations were once abundant in this space, but only roses remained. Those plants dried and wilted, unable to survive the cruel reality of this place. Her fingers reached out to touch the rose bush, gently brushing against deep red petals.

"Her Imperial Highness should be more careful," a gentle voice called to her, "Those petals hide nasty thorns. It would hurt His Imperial Majesty to know you were injured."

She turned her head to face the source, greeted by the warm smile of a familiar face.

"You've spent the better part of quarter-century looking after me," She smiled weakly, "When are you ever going to stop, Mister Rollin?"

"Whenever you stop requiring my attention. Until then, my vow remains the same."

Rollins was a grey fox - a handsome man well past his prime.

His swept-back silvery grey hair paired well with his brown eyes. A rare condition left him with two sets of skin tones. Most of his body was a coffee-colour, but there were spots on him that were the palest peach. He wore a black and white suit, a golden emblem on his breast pocket. The only indicators of his age were the thin lines that decorated his face. Were it not for those; he would look like a handsome young man.

The Empress laughed, "To protect and serve until I meet my death? Then you meet your next master?"

"Speaking with sincerity, I hope I meet mine before you do. What troubles you so, dearest Imperial Highness."

"My only child fights in a war for his father's ego, while my husband brings a married woman into the Royal Gardens without asking me," Her gaze fell to the roses, "My patience grows thinner each day for these nobles and their gossip. Truthfully, Mister Rollin, I'm in a mood most foul. Not even the beauty of these roses can quell my anger."

Rollin stepped closer to her, bringing with him wafts of his cologne. There was a contemplative silence between them - it wasn't awkward or filled with malice. Her gaze stayed focus on the roses, fingers gently brushing against them as Rollins walked closer. He carefully slipped her a note - before walking past her and adjusting his tie.

"I've instructed servants to prepare Her Imperial Highness'evening tea in the garden entertaining space," Rollins cleared his throat, "May Amara subdue your rage, Empress and the source of it not poke the fire."

The Empress chuckled, "Amara may be the only one who can help him now."

As quickly as he appeared, Rollins vanished - the only trace of his presence was the lingering cologne in the air. Soon that too disappeared into the wind, leaving only the smell of spring in his place. She took another deep breath, inhaling the crisp air as she walked to the space Rollins mentioned.

It sat in the middle of the garden, designed impeccably for the privacy of the Imperial Family. There were a glass roof and lanterns designed to hide circular table and wicker seats. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and warm snacks filled her nose - enticing her stomach.

Under the shade of the roof, the Empress glanced over her shoulder before unfolding the note. Her citrine eyes fell to read the hastily scribbled words on the thin paper, expression souring with every word. Her eyebrows furrowed in emotion more akin to disappointment than anger - she held the note between her fingertips and brought it closer to the lantern.

The thin paper immediately caught flame - burning up quickly and disappearing into the wind. The Empress then took a seat, elegantly pouring herself a cup of tea.

For a moment, the world seemed quiet.

As the delicate porcelain met her lips, and she tasted the sweetness of honey and romaberry, her mind was calm. Figure composed, she sipped her tea in the quiet stillness of her invisible company - before a long, drawn-out breath escaped. As her teacup hit its porcelain plate, she felt her body relax. Pinching her nose bridge and leaning on the table, an empty sigh left her.

Her tired reflection in the golden-brown coloured liquid, she stared at the glittering crown on her head. She lifted it off, resting it on the table with a frown. She squeezed her hands together, resting her elbows on the table. Closing her citrine eyes, she took another breath.

"I spent my youth preparing for this, and yet it's somehow more empty than you made it out to be, Felicity." She mumbled, "What were your words to me? To be Empress is to manipulate and deceive? Your talent in that area far exceeds mine. Would it be selfish of me to yearn that you protect your grandson? I'm too old to birth another child, and the Empire has no other heirs."

The Empress unclasped her hands, looking to the roof with a weak laugh.

"Pleading to the dead, I've become quite the mess - haven't I?"

"That lady-in-waiting of yours insinuated you were mad at me, dearest wife." a deep-toned voice called to her, "And surely she's mistaken. For what reason would the Empress need to be upset? My beloved Adalyn harbours no ill intent."