*****

As the rain subsided, the night draped them in its somber shroud, casting shadows that danced along the glistening cobblestones. The horse-drawn carriage advanced cautiously, its wooden wheels creaking softly against the damp earth. Beside it, the knights maintained a watchful vigil, their silhouettes blending with the darkness, ever alert for lurking threats.

Within the carriage, Rosetta lay ensconced in slumber, her delicate features serene as she nestled against Iris's comforting presence. Weariness etched lines upon Iris's countenance, her eyes heavy with the weight of their journey. Next to her, the king leaned against the carriage's interior, his eyes shuttered against the world, his hand pressed wearily to his furrowed brow.

Iris's gaze lingered on Rosetta, a mix of concern and gratitude painting her features. With a soft sigh, she could only cling to the hope that no peril would befall them. Her attention then drifted to the king, allowing herself a moment to appreciate his handsome countenance, his visage as stern as cold stone, his physique robust and regal. She found herself captivated by his appearance until a sudden sneeze from Rosetta jolted her back to the present.

With a gentle exhale, Iris redirected her focus to her friend. As Rosetta settled back into sleep, Iris sighed once more, the worry still evident in her furrowed brow. Drawing back the carriage curtain, she peered out into the night, a small, wistful smile gracing her lips as she sought solace in the tranquility of the post-rain world.

Flashback

In the serene expanse of the garden, Iris tugged Nevan along with an infectious exuberance, her laughter dancing in the air like butterflies on a gentle breeze. Nevan, her younger sibling by a mere year, followed with a mix of fond exasperation and undeniable affection etched upon his features. With a playful gleam in her eyes, Iris guided him toward a quaint wooden chair, its weathered frame whispering tales of past gatherings and shared moments beneath the dappled sunlight.

"Sit, dear brother," she teased, her voice a melodic invitation as she gestured toward the seat with a flourish, her movements graceful as a swaying branch in the wind. Nevan acquiesced with a soft chuckle, the corners of his lips quirking upward in response to his sister's whimsical charm. As he settled into the chair, its sturdy embrace offering comfort amidst the verdant backdrop, he shook his head in amused surrender to Iris's playful antics.

"Indulge me," Iris implored, her tone a sweet melody that echoed amidst the tranquil setting, as she pulled another chair close, her skirts rustling softly against the earthen ground. Taking her place beside Nevan at the rustic table adorned with delicate blooms, she leaned in with an air of anticipation, her elbows finding purchase upon the worn surface. A radiant smile graced her countenance, illuminating her features with a warmth that mirrored the golden hues of the afternoon sun.

With a gentle smile, Nevan accepted the tea Iris offered, relishing the warmth of the cup against his palms. The aroma of the brew enveloped him, a comforting embrace in the quiet room. Nodding in approval after a sip, he met Iris's gaze, her eyes alight with anticipation.

"Is it to your liking?" Iris inquired, her voice soft with hope, her fingers tracing the delicate porcelain of her own cup.

"It's not my usual choice, but it carries a flavor suited for our father's taste," Nevan replied, acknowledging the effort with a grateful nod. Iris's face lit up with joy, mirroring the flickering flames in the hearth.

"Ah, indeed. It caters well to the refined palates of our elders," Iris remarked with a knowing smile, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

Nevan's gaze lingered on her, the corners of his lips faltering as he watched her relish the tea. Caught in the moment, Iris suddenly straightened, a nervous flutter in her throat.

"What troubles you?" she prodded, her curiosity eager for his thoughts.

He chuckled softly, a veil of mystery cloaking his eyes. "Nothing of consequence. Merely lost in admiration."

Undeterred, Iris leaned forward, her gaze searching. "Come now, you've been staring. What's on your mind?"

With a resigned sigh, Nevan brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch fleeting yet tender. "Mother is actively seeking suitors for your hand in marriage."

Iris met his gaze with a serene acceptance, her resolve unwavering. "Yes, I'm aware."

A furrow creased Nevan's brow, worry etched into the lines of his face. "Aren't you concerned?"

"About what?" Iris countered, her voice steady, her gaze steady.

"I fear for your safety, Iris. What if the suitor doesn't have your best interests at heart?" Nevan voiced his worries, genuine concern knitting his brow.

Smiling softly, Iris placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Then I shall divorce him and return home. After all, I have you, Mother, and Father, do I not?"

Nevan's expression darkened, a shadow of sadness clouding his eyes. "It's not as simple as that. Royalty seldom allows such freedoms."

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten," Iris mused with a wistful smile, her resolve unshaken.

Straightening, she added with determination, "But fret not. I will manage."

Nevan shook his head, the weight of his concern palpable. "It's not that I worry about."

Perplexed, Iris tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Then what troubles you?"

"What if you find yourself in love with someone who cannot return your affections?" he pondered aloud.

Laughing softly, Iris dismissed the notion. "Then I shall depart, of course." Her laughter carried a lightness that belied the gravity of matters of the heart.

"No, you won't," Nevan asserted firmly, his gaze piercing.

Perplexed, Iris studied him, her curiosity piqued. "And why is that? You speak as if you know my heart better than I."

"That's precisely it. Once you fall, you'll surrender yourself wholly, regardless of the consequences," Nevan explained, his words laden with a wisdom beyond Iris's years.

Nervously, Iris attempted to deflect. "I fail to comprehend. Let us speak of something else." Yet, beneath her jest, a seed of doubt took root, blossoming in the silence between them.

Turning away, Nevan took a contemplative sip, the warmth of the tea chasing away the chill that lingered in his thoughts. "On your wedding day, I shall gift you a book."

"A book?" Iris's interest was piqued, her curiosity reignited.

"Yes," Nevan affirmed, a tender smile gracing his lips as a breeze stirred the garden, whispering secrets through the rustling leaves.

Captivated by his gesture, Iris nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling with gratitude.

"I know your fondness for stories. Write your own, then," Nevan suggested, his voice carrying a warmth that thawed the lingering doubts in her heart.

Iris nodded in agreement, her spirits lifted by his unwavering support.

End of flashback

Stepping down from the carriage, Iris followed the maid's lead and found herself standing before the magnificent Obsidian Crown's palace. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the grandeur before her, her gaze lingering on the intricate details of the sprawling structure. The Aurora Glade Monarchy palace, her home, was undeniably beautiful, but compared to the awe-inspiring presence of Obsidian Crown, it paled in comparison.

"The view is breathtaking," Rosetta whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant chatter of the bustling courtyard. Her eyes mirrored Iris's awe as they traced the elegant lines of the palace walls, a silent acknowledgment of the magnificence that lay before them.

Iris nodded in silent agreement, her gaze transfixed upon the majestic palace that loomed before her. As the king descended from the carriage, his presence radiating authority, Iris and Rosetta followed suit. They were enraptured by the grandeur of the palace's architecture, its towering spires and intricate façades captivating their senses, transporting them to a world of opulence and extravagance.

With a graceful stride, the king crossed the threshold into the palace, his figure silhouetted against the ornate entrance. Pausing, he cast a commanding glance back at Iris, his piercing eyes assessing her demeanor. She approached him with measured steps, the echo of her footfall mingling with the soft rustle of her skirt against the floor. In that moment, a silent exchange passed between the king and his knights, the tension palpable in the air. With a subtle nod, the knights withdrew, leaving the trio standing alone in the cavernous expanse of the palace's grand hall.

As the King's gaze shifted to Iris, his voice carried the weight of authority as he declared, "Prepare yourselves. The wedding ceremony shall take place tomorrow."

Iris met his gaze unwaveringly, her own eyes holding a silent plea. "Please, extend an invitation to my family," she implored.

Silence lingered in the air as the King offered no immediate reply. With a stoic expression, he turned on his heel, regal cloak billowing behind him, and began his departure. Iris's eyes trailed his retreating form, a tumult of emotions churning within her as she silently watched him vanish into the palace corridors.

Rosetta observed Iris with a furrowed brow, her concern evident in the lines etched upon her delicate features. "Iris," she began, her voice cautious, as if stepping on fragile ground.

"Hmm?"

"Are you... Do you like His Majesty?" Rosetta's inquiry was gentle, laden with a mixture of empathy and comprehension, as if she already knew the answer yet yearned to hear it from Iris herself.

Iris's lips curved, though bitterness tainted the smile she offered in response. Rosetta, sensing her friend's inner struggle, remained silent, choosing instead to wrap her arm around Iris's, a wordless display of solidarity and comfort.

As they delved deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, a maid, her demeanor frosty and unyielding, guided them to Iris's chamber. With a curt nod, the maid indicated the room before briskly retreating, leaving behind an atmosphere thick with disdain. Iris released a weary sigh, sensing the lingering traces of the maid's animosity, yet she refused to dwell on it. Instead, she focused on the unexpected splendor surrounding her. With a soft smile, she absorbed the grandeur of the chamber bestowed upon her by the King, finding solace in the luxurious embrace of her new quarters amidst the frosty reception.

Iris unpacked the trunk, the scent of old leather and musty fabric evoking memories of home. Each garment she retrieved whispered of the past, weighing heavy with nostalgia. Overwhelmed, she sank to the floor, clutching the fabric to her chest as tears blurred her vision.

A sudden knock jolted her from her reverie. With trembling hands, she wiped away her tears, composing herself before answering the door. Rosetta entered with a smile, but Iris avoided her gaze, masking her vulnerability behind a forced grin.

Rosetta settled onto the polished floor, deftly folding clothes as Iris perched on the bed's edge, a question lingering. "Where are you staying?"

"In the maids' chamber," Rosetta replied, meeting Iris's gaze with a faint smile. Iris nodded, her expression sad. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Rosetta halted, her movements stilling as she turned to regard Iris with a blend of surprise knitting into confusion, "For what?" she inquired.

Iris, her fingers fumbling with the delicate fabric of her dress, traced unseen motifs, her gaze fixed on the floor beneath her feet. "I can't promise it will be without challenges," she began, each word weighed with uncertainty yet laced with determination. "But I'll do my best to protect you. Should you ever desire release from this place, speak the words, and I'll make the necessary arrangements."

Rosetta's brows knitted in anger as she rose with a suddenness that rattled the room. "I refuse to! You shall not dare to cast me out! Your joy, your anguish, both are mine to bear, and if suffering befalls you, then suffer I shall alongside!"

Iris, startled by Rosetta's fervor, could do naught but offer a silent assent. As Rosetta settled back onto the worn floorboards, her movements measured and deliberate, an oppressive stillness descended upon the chamber, the only disturbance the rhythmic cadence of their breaths.

The hush was shattered by the arrival of an unexpected visitor, a maid whose intrusion was as startling as it was unwelcome. Iris and Rosetta exchanged bemused glances, their mutual bewilderment mirrored in the wrinkled countenance and silvered locks of the older servant woman who stood before them, her demeanor solemn and inscrutable.

The older maid, her posture regal, bowed her head elegantly, hands clasped at her waist beneath her chest. Her gaze met Iris's, and she spoke with a solemn tone that echoed through the room. "Lady Iris, prepare yourself for tomorrow's wedding, and steel your resolve for the first night," the attendant instructed, her words carrying a subtle undercurrent of caution. "Do not incite His Majesty in any manner."

With that cautionary remark, she swept out of the room, leaving Iris and Rosetta standing in silence, their expressions devoid of emotion. The weight of the impending ceremony settled upon them like a dense fog, each passing moment feeling increasingly surreal and overwhelming.

Rosetta's gaze softened, her eyes brimming with concern and determination as she turned to Iris, her friend of many years. "Just say the word, and I'll whisk you away from this place."

Iris, her own eyes betraying a mixture of fear and resolve, met Rosetta's gaze, shaking her head gently. "No, we cannot afford to retreat now."

The weight of suppressed emotions hung heavy on Rosetta's lips as she posed the question, her voice carrying a slight quiver. "You won't regret it?"

Iris offered a small, melancholic smile, extending her arms in a silent gesture of solace. With an anxious cry, Rosetta edged closer, enfolding Iris in a tender embrace.

Iris reciprocated the hug, her voice a soft murmur tinged with sorrow. "When I laid eyes on the King yesterday, it felt like love at first sight. And when he drew near, when his touch enveloped my arm, I felt an inexplicable longing to have him in my life, no matter the price. Even as the cold edge of his blade pressed against my neck, fear didn't grip me; instead, my heart danced with joy, as if it had discovered its purpose, its sole desire."

Rosetta nodded, withdrawing from the embrace to meet Iris's gaze, a tear tracing a silent path down her cheek.

As Iris surrendered to the gentle embrace of slumber, the grand palace bustled with feverish activity, the imminent wedding casting a spell of excitement upon its every corner.

Meanwhile, the King, his figure silhouetted against the window, cast his gaze upon the garden below. His demeanor remained steadfast, a facade concealing the tempest of emotions raging within. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, his heart bore the weight of unspoken turmoil.

A sudden rap at the door pierced the King's reverie. "What is it?" His voice, gruff and commanding, sliced through the stillness, though he did not turn to face the knight who stood at attention in the doorway.

"The criminal has fled," came the report, delivered with a hint of urgency.

The King's face twisted with anger as he pivoted on his heel, closing the distance to the knight with purposeful strides. "Daze, spare me your excuses. I demand his capture, alive, no matter the obstacle," he commanded, his words edged with an icy resolve.

Daze's response was immediate, a wordless understanding of the weight behind the decree, conveyed through a solemn nod. With a respectful bow, he swiftly departed the chamber, leaving the monarch to wrestle with his own turbulent thoughts.

As dawn broke, the tranquil symphony of chirping birds and the gentle embrace of sunlight seeping through the window caressed Iris, enveloping her in the warmth of a new day. Yet, the serenity was shattered by an abrupt, thunderous pounding on the door, startling both Iris and Rosetta from their slumber. With disheveled locks and exchanged glances fraught with worry, they hastily roused themselves.

Rosetta sprang from her bed, her heart pounding with trepidation, and hastened to the door. Meanwhile, Iris, still in the midst of arranging her hair into a prim bun, observed with mounting concern as the disturbance unfolded before her.

As the door creaked open, it revealed a procession of maids, led by the stern figure of the head maid who had arrived the previous night. Their demeanor was one of haughty confidence, each step echoing with a sense of purpose. Iris, undeterred by their airs, maintained her composure, her gaze unwavering.

With measured strides, the head maid advanced toward the bed, her presence commanding obedience. Without preamble, she seized Iris from beneath the covers, her actions brimming with authority, and directed her towards the waiting bathroom, brooking no protest. Before Iris could voice a word of objection, the head maid's decisive gesture silenced her.

"Swiftly now, no time to dawdle!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. The other maids sprang into action at her behest, their movements a flurry of activity as they set about their tasks with practiced efficiency.

Meanwhile, Rosetta stood at the room's center, her brow creased with worry, her gaze flitting between the bustling maids and the closed door of the bathroom. An air of tension hung about her, palpable in the subtle clench of her jaw and the restless shift of her weight from one foot to the other.

The palace pulsed with vitality, suffused in the warm glow of candlelight and the animated chatter of guests. Within its ornate chambers, the soft murmur of preparations mingled with the rustle of silk and lace as maids attended to Iris, their touch gentle as they adorned her in the splendor of her wedding attire.

Her gown, a vision in white, shimmered with delicate embellishments, its elegance matched only by the ethereal veil that cascaded around her. Each brushstroke of makeup bestowed upon her countenance a refined allure, enhancing the natural radiance that graced her features.

Stepping into the corridor, Iris was enveloped by the hushed whispers of anticipation, her attendants by her side.

Entering the grandeur of the wedding hall, Iris beheld a scene of enchantment. Blossoms of every hue adorned the space, their fragrance filling the air with a heady perfume. Delicate tendrils of ivy twined around pillars, lending an air of whimsy to the setting.

With each step down the aisle, Iris felt the weight of every gaze upon her, their eyes like eager spectators at a grand performance. The hushed murmurs of the crowd created a symphony of anticipation, urging her onward.

As she neared the end of the aisle, her heart quickened its pace, a drumbeat of nervous excitement echoing in her chest. Her eyes, however, were drawn irresistibly to the figure of the king, resplendent in his regal attire. His presence commanded attention, his aura of authority palpable even from a distance.

Caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze, Iris found herself momentarily breathless, her own features mirroring the small smile that graced his lips. But as she basked in the warmth of what she believed to be his admiration, reality came crashing down like a wave. The smile wasn't for her; it was directed past her, to another.

In an instant, the room surged with motion, a wave of movement sweeping through its confines as each guest rose from their seat, filling the chamber with a crescendo of applause. Caught in the midst of the commotion, Iris halted, her expression morphing from joy to disbelief, her features frozen in a mask of shock and trepidation. Following the collective gaze of the assembly, she pivoted back, her eyes widening as they fell upon a figure draped in the resplendent hues of a scarlet wedding gown. The woman's radiant smile was fixed upon the king, and Iris, unable to resist the allure of curiosity, allowed her gaze to follow, locking onto the monarch with a mixture of intrigue and uncertainty.

In a silent communion, the woman and the king locked gazes, their eyes conveying unspoken truths across the expanse between them. Iris stood witness to their wordless exchange, her heart fracturing into myriad shards within her chest. She gasped for air, her lungs constricting as if suffocated by the weight of their unspoken bond. Yet, before she could draw breath, two maids materialized by her side, their gentle touch urging her away from the scene and into the company of two other figures draped in the purity of white bridal attire.

Left amidst a gathering of resplendent young maidens, their beauty undeniable, Iris found herself engulfed in a tumult of emotions. Tremors coursed through her trembling hands as she fought to steady herself, her eyelids fluttering shut in a desperate attempt to regain composure. Through the veil of her distress, she tuned into the whispered conversations that fluttered around her.

"Gracy, Is it the bride-to-be in the crimson wedding gown?" one of the brides inquired.

"Yes," Gracy responded, her voice barely above a whisper. Iris blinked, feeling a lump form in her throat, and slowly turned her head to behold the woman draped in scarlet silk. A wave of emotions washed over her, causing her eyes to prickle with unshed tears.

"Why did they have to pick our day for their wedding? It feels like the spotlight's entirely on her," the bride grumbled, feeling overshadowed by the timing of their celebration.

"True, but there were rumors they'd wed soon. I just didn't anticipate it happening today," Gracy remarked, her gaze fixed on the radiant smile of the woman in red.

"How many wives does the king possess, anyway?" the other bride asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I believe it's seven, but if we include the Queen-to-be, along with you, me, and the girl beside us, that would make it ten," Gracy replied matter-of-factly. The word 'Queen' echoed in Iris's ears, and she lowered her head, her eyes clouded with sadness, her dreams crumbling in her heart.

The bride's eyes widened, her astonishment palpable. "A 10?" she gasped, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Gracy tilted her head, a knowing smile gracing her lips. "Why the surprise? He's hardly building a harem. In fact, compared to other kings, he's quite restrained with only ten wives. Count yourself lucky; at least you'll have the chance to see him weekly. But marrying a king is no easy feat. Some women hardly lay eyes on their husbands for months, lost in the shuffle of so many wives vying for attention," she explained, her tone tinged with worldly wisdom as she gently shook her head at the bride's innocence.

"Yes, that's true," the bride mused, her voice carrying a hint of admiration. "But look at the queen-to-be, she's so pretty."

Gracy nodded in silent accord, her eyes tracing the elegant path of the woman in crimson. Iris observed with a mixture of fascination and trepidation as the lady approached the king, her gown flowing behind her in a cascade of scarlet silk. A lump formed in Iris's throat as the weight of the moment settled upon her—she was to ascend as a concubine, a position fraught with its own complexities and uncertainties.

The heavy burden of unspoken sorrow pressed upon Iris, threatening to overflow from her eyes in a torrent of tears. As the weight of her fate bore down relentlessly, she scanned the crowd, her desperate gaze searching for a glimpse of Rosetta amidst the throng. Among the faces that met her eyes, she found her parents, their expressions a blend of concern and joy, their unwavering love palpable even from a distance.

Iris' chin dipped instinctively, her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she fought to contain the ache in her chest. Meeting her parents' gaze, she summoned a smile that felt foreign and fragile upon her lips, a mere facade to shield them from the turmoil within. With a heavy heart, she turned away, a solitary tear tracing a silent path down her cheek, a poignant symbol of the emotions she dared not voice.

After sealing their vows with solemn promises, King Lucious, regal and commanding, ascended the steps to his rightful place upon the throne, his newly crowned queen, a vision of grace and beauty, by his side. The attending maids, keenly aware of Iris's pivotal role, ushered her forward with gentle hands, guiding her to the forefront where she stood in the presence of royalty. Arrayed beside her, the other bride, and Gracy, formed a delicate line, their anticipation palpable in the grand hall.

With a studied grace, Gracy approached Lucious, her movements fluid and deliberate, and executed a deep, elegant bow, her hand extended in a gesture of submission as the maids presented the ornate ring box. Lucious, the weight of his new responsibilities evident in his solemn demeanor, accepted the ring, a symbol of union and fidelity, and delicately slid it onto Gracy's waiting finger. The ceremonial exchange continued, each bride receiving her token of matrimony with a blend of reverence and expectation, the air heavy with the weight of tradition and anticipation for the future.

As it became Iris's turn, she advanced with cautious steps, her heart quickening its rhythm, echoing in the silence that enveloped the grand hall. The anticipation hung thick, palpable, like a heavy fog swirling around her. With every beat of her heart, a sense of trepidation gripped her, tightening like a vice around her chest.

She lowered her head in deference, a tremor coursing down her spine, as if the weight of the moment pressed upon her very soul. The king, an imposing figure, stood in silent observation, his gaze a force unto itself, simultaneously penetrating and distant. In his presence, Iris felt adrift, a lone vessel navigating the vast expanse of his scrutiny.

The maids approached the King, bearing the ring on a velvet cushion. Sunlight danced upon the gilded band, its golden surface reflecting the rich, warm hues of the setting sun. With a regal air, he accepted the offering, his fingers closing around it with a practiced precision, yet devoid of any warmth or affection.

Iris stood before him, her heart pounding like the distant roll of thunder heralding an approaching storm. As he reached for her hand, she couldn't shake off the sense of foreboding that gripped her. With a solemn gesture, he slid the ring onto her trembling finger.

Instead of the warmth she had anticipated, a chill coursed through her veins. The ring, an emblem of commitment and union, felt cold against her skin, its weight heavier than mere metal should be. Iris dared to raise her gaze to meet his, searching for reassurance in his eyes. Yet, as their gazes locked, a wave of inexplicable fear engulfed her, sending tremors coursing through her body, like the chill wind of impending doom whispering through the halls of the palace.

The sudden unease that gripped her was like a shadow descending upon her soul, enveloping her in a shroud of confusion. The king's narrowed brows, a thunderous omen of his displeasure, only deepened her discomfort. Her hands, once warm in his grasp, now turned cold and clammy, betraying her inner turmoil as they instinctively recoiled from his touch. Throughout the hall, gasps rippled like waves upon a troubled sea, their murmurs amplifying Iris's mounting panic into a crescendo of dread.

Frantically, her mind became a whirlwind of chaos, racing through the corridors of possibility in search of an escape. Each beat of her heart resounded in her ears like the toll of a funeral bell, drowning out all other sound as she scanned the opulent surroundings for a means of salvation. The weight of their collective gaze bore down upon her like a leaden cloak, suffocating her with its suffocating scrutiny, leaving her gasping for breath in its oppressive grasp.

Unable to endure the crushing weight of their judgment a moment longer, Iris's resolve shattered like fragile glass, splintering into a thousand pieces. With a gulp of rising panic, she felt the desperate need for flight consume her, driving her to action. In a blur of motion, she bolted down the aisle, her footsteps a frantic rhythm echoing in her ears, a discordant melody of fear and desperation propelling her forward into the unknown.

*****

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ