Lily groaned softly, rubbing her temples as she slowly opened her eyes. The air felt stifling, pressing against her chest like a heavy weight. She blinked a few times, letting her vision adjust, only to find herself in her own room. For a fleeting moment, relief washed over her—but that relief quickly turned to confusion when she noticed the heavy barricades on her window. She rushed to it, pushing with all her might, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic set in.

"Mother!" she called out, her voice shaky as she ran to the door. She tugged on the handle, but it, too, refused to move. Her breaths quickened. "Mother!"

The faint sound of footsteps from the other side of the door brought a flicker of hope.

"What is it, child?" Her mother’s voice was calm, almost detached, as though Lily’s panic was of no concern to her.

Lily exhaled in relief, pressing her forehead against the door. "I-I don’t know… The window won’t open, and the door—" 

Her mother’s tone turned icy. "You are not allowed to leave this room. From now on, your food will be brought to you, and water will be provided for bathing."

Lily’s heart sank. "W-what? Why?" 

Her mother didn’t answer. The sound of her retreating footsteps was all Lily heard. 

"Wait!" she shouted, yanking at the door with all her strength. "What did I do?!" Her voice cracked with desperation, but there was no response. 

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, hugging her legs tightly as silent tears began to fall. Hours passed, though it felt like an eternity. Refusing the food and water brought to her, she sat by the door, her face hidden in her knees, lost in a spiral of despair. 

Finally, she stood, her legs trembling beneath her. She made her way to the large, luxurious bed her father had gifted her months before his death. The memory brought a fresh wave of pain, and she clutched one of the embroidered pillows tightly. Suddenly, the door handle turned, the sound snapping her out of her thoughts. 

"I said I don’t want anything!" she yelled, her voice raw. 

The door creaked open, and her mother entered, carrying a wooden bucket filled with water. She set it down without so much as a glance at Lily. 

"And do you think I care?" her mother said coldly, her gaze sharp and unyielding. 

Lily froze, her defiance faltering.

"It’s getting late. I don’t care if you eat or not, but you will bathe. I can smell you from the stairs," her mother said with a sneer. 

The words stung like a slap. Lily bolted toward the door, hoping to push past her mother, but the queen was stronger. She slammed the door shut with a finality that echoed through the room. 

"Wait!" Lily screamed, pulling at the door, but it was no use. 

The silence that followed was deafening. Lily’s vision blurred with tears as she slid to the floor, struggling to catch her breath. A choked sob escaped her lips, and she screamed, the sound raw and filled with anguish. 

Her cries softened over time, eventually fading into silence. Wiping her face with trembling hands, she glanced at the wooden bucket. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind: "Number one rule: Weaklings cry. Royalties don’t."

Sniffling, she pulled herself to her feet. Taking the cloth from the bucket, she wiped her face. "Rule number two: Always bathe." The rules were absurd, but disobedience came with punishment. 

Lily hesitated, her hands trembling as she undressed. Her dress slipped to the floor, revealing the scars that marred her back—some fresh, some faded with time. She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror and quickly looked away, humming softly to drown out the memories. 

"Rule number three: Always be strong." 

Her voice cracked as she repeated the mantra her mother had drilled into her. She hurried through her bath, the cold water stinging her skin. When she finished, she dressed in her nightgown and climbed into bed, clutching a pillow for comfort. Her gaze lingered on the framed photograph of her father and brother. 

Tears welled in her eyes. Why couldn’t things go back to how they were before?

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pull—something yanked her down. Her scream filled the room as she struggled, only to see her mother standing over her. 

"You disobeyed the rules," her mother said coldly. "And you know what happens when you disobey the rules." 

Lily thrashed against her grip. "I’m sorry! Please, Mother!" 

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Her mother dragged her down the stairs, each step reverberating with Lily’s sobs. The dungeon door creaked open, and the cold, damp air hit her like a slap. 

"M-Mother… please…" Lily whimpered, her voice trembling. 

The queen flung her into a cell, locking the iron bars with a loud clang. 

"You want to act like an outlaw? Then I’ll treat you like one," her mother said, her voice devoid of any warmth. She turned to the guards. "Make sure she doesn’t leave before her punishment." 

The heavy door slammed shut, leaving Lily in darkness. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. 

Hours passed. The cell was cold, the silence oppressive. Lily sat against the wall, her eyes swollen and red from crying. The sound of footsteps jolted her awake. She scrambled to her feet as the dungeon door creaked open, revealing her mother, a whip in her hand. 

"W-wait... no... Mother..." Lily stammered, backing away. 

Her mother’s grip was iron as she dragged her out of the cell. Lily’s eyes widened in terror as she was tied to the pole, her back exposed. 

"Mother, please..." she begged, tears streaming down her face. 

Her mother ignored her, dipping the whip in water. 

"Wait!" Lily screamed as the whip cracked through the air. 

---

She shot up in bed, panting heavily, her body drenched in sweat. She reached behind her, feeling warm, sticky blood trickling down her back. Her sheets were stained, and her hands trembled as she hugged her knees. 

Her sobs filled the room, soft and broken, as she whispered to herself, "I’ll be strong. I’ll be strong." 

But even as the words left her lips, she knew they were a lie.