Her fingers tightly gripped her wedding dress, while all she could do was tremble in fear, her lips quivering uncontrollably. It wasn't something she could control—nothing in her life had ever been within her control. When her uncle had forcibly, almost as if selling her, given her to someone completely opposite to her character and personality, Stella hadn't had a say in it. She hadn't been able to say no. Not really. Even when she did, it had the impact of a mere mosquito's buzz. Her eyes wandered around the dimly lit room; the gothic-style room, illuminated by a soft light, reflected the mysterious atmosphere of an ancient castle, one that still retained its former grandeur. A large black chandelier hanging from the center of the high ceiling added a touch of elegance, though it was equally unsettling. The candlelight seeping from the ceiling cast shadows in the dark corners of the room, giving it depth and an eerie ambiance.
In the center of the room stood a large, dark bed, distinguished by its elegant carvings. The gothic motifs on the headboard symbolized the grim elegance that dominated the room. The black coverings on the bed created a heavy, cold atmosphere that could almost be felt. The faint moonlight filtering through the stained glass windows cast a subtle, colored glow across the room. The thick curtains draped over the windows blocked out the outside world, deepening the darkness within the room. In one corner of the room, an antique dresser with candles lined up on top seemed to hide the traces of time, or at least that's how Stella perceived it. The room was so immaculate that there wasn't a single piece of clutter or even an extra garment lying around. It was simple, neat, and organized, arranged by someone who valued order. The fact that this was now her room as well was painful to accept. To Stella, it was too black, too dark, too gloomy, as if invisible fingers were wrapping around her throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. Her breathing quickened, her fear growing too large to hide.
The floor was covered with a patterned rug, though the rug showed signs of fading from the passage of time. Every detail made the room both captivating and terrifying, and Stella shivered once more. When her eyes fell on the door, she returned to her anxious vigil. She had seen her new husband at the wedding, and although she had never met a more captivating man, the first thing she felt had been fear. Now, knowing she should refer to him as her husband, Stella couldn't bring herself to even think of it, feeling too insignificant in comparison to a man like him.
Even when their eyes met, she was overcome with a chill, her heart racing madly—still racing now. His presence filled her with a gripping excitement. Excitement? The word made her freeze in surprise as she tried to steady her breathing. It wouldn't last long anyway. Once they realized how worthless and ordinary she was, they would surely send her back to Solaria. She had no doubt about it. Her uncle likely had no doubts either, given the way he had bid her farewell with one of those disgusting grins that made her stomach churn.
"When you return, dear Stella." He had embraced her as if he were a loving uncle, but Stella had felt her blood run cold. "You won't have any reason to keep your legs closed." Stella had barely held back a retch, her eyes filling with tears as they drifted to her newly wedded husband. His brows were furrowed as he scrutinized Stella, his lips set in a straight line, his face openly displaying his anger. "This farewell should be enough."
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to steady her trembling legs without letting go of her dress. She had suffered from her uncle's harassment, but since Stella was an unmarried princess who had just turned nineteen, he hadn't dared to touch her. In a way, marrying her off was his way of handling the situation, knowing that she would be sent back. After all, who was Stella to marry the most powerful king in the universe? When she returned, her uncle planned to wipe away the stain she had brought upon the family by making Stella one of his own wives.
The noise from outside startled Stella. She quickly turned her head back to the door and resumed her anxious wait. She tried to ignore the sudden cramp in her stomach but couldn't. Holding her breath, she watched the door handle with anticipation, flinching at a slight click. "My Queen? May I come in?"
Her eyes blinked, and the tears she hadn't even realized had welled up rolled down her cheeks. Quickly, she wiped them away, trying not to smudge her makeup, and cleared her throat to speak. She was a queen now; she didn't need to get used to it, but hearing it felt strange. "Yes, come in."
As she waited for the doors to open, only one door opened slightly, and a tall man with a strict, disciplined appearance—his high rank evident from the shiny emblems on his shoulders—entered with a warm, almost friendly smile, which contrasted with the atmosphere of the room. Bowing respectfully to Stella, she stood up, still tightly clutching her dress, and gave a brief curtsy, looking at the stranger she had also seen at the wedding with curiosity. He looked at Stella with admiration and pride, almost like a fatherly figure, though Stella thought she might have been mistaken and tried not to dwell on it. After all, she didn't need to get used to this place, nor did she need to get to know the people here.
"My Queen, I apologize for disturbing you. Please forgive me. Our King had to attend a last-minute meeting with the leaders of the Five Kingdoms. He asked me to inform you that you should rest, as he may be late in returning."
The Five Kingdoms meeting? Surely he wasn't referring to the five kingdoms that governed the universe? Was there a problem? Was there a war? The servant must have noticed Stella's inner turmoil because he raised his hands in a calming gesture and smiled at her. When Stella focused on him again, he took a step back, moving closer to the door to avoid making her uncomfortable. "There is no need to worry, my Queen. Believe me, our King would never want you to trouble yourself with such matters. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Absentmindedly, she shook her head, causing a strand of her wavy hair to fall across her face. When it landed in front of her eyes, she instinctively blew at it, trying to push it away. The man smiled at her like a kind father, and she blushed deeply, lowering her head in embarrassment. "No, actually, do I need to wait for him to take off the dress?"
The man paused for a moment. It wasn't difficult to guess that Stella was uncomfortable and had likely been waiting in her current position for the king for a full hour. He sighed, cursing the last task he had done before coming here. He should have come here first to ensure the queen's comfort. "Of course not, my queen. Please, if our king learns of your discomfort, it will trouble him greatly. All your belongings have been placed in the room before you, and you can find whatever you need in the bathroom. Would you like me to send someone to assist you?" Stella quickly shook her head, and as she breathed more easily this time, she found her smile again. "Thank you. I can manage on my own." The man returned her smile more sincerely and, with a final bow, exited the room.
Feeling as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, Stella collapsed onto the bed. She could have been upset. The king had left her alone in the first day of their marriage, returning to his duties, but a five-kingdom assembly was not a frequent occurrence. In fact, the last one had been five years ago due to the reemergence of a lost kingdom. Hoping that no war would break out, Stella stared up at the ceiling, intending to take a shower and go to bed immediately. She had no doubt that the meeting would last long; the king would likely return only by dawn, and she would probably be awakened by then. After all, even though she was the queen, no one would be attentive to her comfort. It was still early—everything was still new—and as people got to know Stella, the respect they had for her would diminish. Feeling restless, she stood up and walked towards the bathroom. As her dress fell effortlessly from her with a snap of her fingers, Stella smiled again, finding peace in her ability to use her powers. Her uncle's bracelets were no longer on her wrists; she was free. For now.
As she stepped into the shower, she could see that everything had indeed been thought of. Allowing herself a moment of relaxation while taking care of her grooming and cleanliness, she relished her solitude and freedom. She did not know the king well, but she sensed that with his arrival, she would be restricted again. It had always been like that; her life had long ceased to be her own. But not now. She rinsed the care she had given her hair with water, she understood that it was time to step out of the shower. Another sigh escaped her when she opened the wardrobe, and with damp hair clinging to her bare back, Stella felt the frustration of not finding a pajama set. After all, they were newlyweds; she was supposed to wear nightwear now. Especially as a queen, such nightwear had to be daring. She examined the nightgowns one by one, finding nothing less revealing.
Her fingers grasped a pearly white nightgown, a perfect tone for her, Stella instantly donned it with magic, pressing it to herself. She shyly gazed at the nightgown that made her feel as if she should have worn nothing at all, she was surprised by her own reflection in the mirror. The reason she hadn't worn such things was not the lack of them in her wardrobe; her uncle had never hesitated to buy her daring clothes, but Stella had never worn them due to his intentions.
Now, under the dim light, Stella's body was gently illuminated, her long, silk-soft yellow hair cascading down her shoulders. Her hair sparkled under the moonlight with a silvery gleam, each strand shimmering like a thread of gold. Her skin's clarity was almost translucent, possessing an almost untouchable elegance; the light glided over her skin, giving it a fairytale-like glow.
She wore an elegant nightgown; its fine and flowing fabric accentuated the contours of her body, slightly shimmering under the surrounding dim light. The gown's light color perfectly matched the brightness of her skin, creating the impression that she was the source of the light itself. Though her expression seemed tinged with a fleeting sadness, even this sadness added a profound meaning to her beauty, making her appear both fragile and strong.
Her new life had begun, but Stella still did not feel it belonged to her. Only this time, her heart was cloaked in a different kind of peace. She would no longer be subjected to her uncle's vile words, her aunts' wickedness, or her cousins' games. The man she married was six years older than her, but when Stella saw him, when their gazes met, the age difference ceased to be an issue for her. She had tried not to be captivated, but when she saw him, her eyes were almost enchanted, and she knew she had liked him. Who wouldn't? The trouble wasn't with the man she had married; it was with herself. Stella believed that all the inadequacies in this world resided within her. They had instilled this belief in her. She was a woman scorned by mirrors. She knew her marriage would not last; she knew that was not the only thing she was certain of. Everything would come to an end, and when that day came, Stella would not return to her uncle; on that day, Stella would die. She would prefer death's embrace than going back where her uncle exists.