Queen's authority

Accompanied by the royal chamberlain, advisors, and a retinue of maids, Eleanor, the First Queen, made her grand entrance into the grand hall. A procession of priests and knights preceded her, their presence a testament to the solemnity of the occasion.

The hall was filled with anticipation as the crowd awaited the King's arrival. Eleanor, adorned in her regal attire, walked with a confident stride, her every movement a symbol of her authority. The eyes of the assembled guests followed her, their admiration and respect evident.

As Eleanor reached the dais, a hush fell over the crowd. Her presence commanded attention, a testament to the power and prestige of the monarchy. The King, upon his arrival, would be greeted by a Queen who was not only his partner, but also a formidable leader in her own right.

The grand hall reverberated with the clamor of the arrival announcement.

The king and the second queen had arrived, their presence announced with a resounding drumbeat and the shouts of the hall porter.

A surge of tension coursed through her, a silent tempest hidden beneath the facade of regal composure. The weight of her insecurities and the aching void of heartbreak pressed upon her, a burden Eleanor dared not shared.

As the first queen of the kingdom, the mother of this vast realm, She could not allow her emotional turmoil to weaken her resolve.

She was the pillar of this kingdom, a symbol of strength and stability. Personal feelings had no place in her role . She had anticipated this eventually, but its earlier occurrence than expected still caught her off guard.

Her gaze fell upon her husband, his laughter echoing through the hall as he conversed with his new queen. A pang of jealousy pierced her heart. In the midst of the boisterous celebration, the world seemed to stand still for her. A wave of helplessness washed over her, constricting her chest and making it difficult to breathe.

"Great Queen, please perform the welcoming ritual," Chamberlain's voice cut through her reverie.

She snapped back to reality, the turmoil of her thoughts momentarily forgotten.

"Yes, bring me the worship plate and inform the priest to prepare the divine shell. The ceremony shall begin now."

She forced herself to stand tall, a proud and wise queen.

"Welcome, my king and the princess of the Mississippi kingdom," she declared, placing a traditional bracelet upon the princess's wrist.

As she completed the customary rituals, the words announcing the princess as the second queen flowed from her lips with a surprising ease.

The priest began the tuning of the divine shell, and the crowd erupted in cheers, their voices echoing with praises for the new queen who had captured the king heart .

Yet amidst the celebration that was about to unfold, Eleanor felt a growing sense of isolation. No one asked about her feelings, her existence seemingly forgotten in the shadow of the new queen's arrival.

As she watched Nadia's radiant smile, her mind drifted back to the day of her own marriage, two years ago. She had been just as hopeful, as filled with dreams of a blissful union. Even though she had been married for only two years, her destiny had been sealed a decade earlier when she was told that she would become a queen.

Her life had been shaped by that prophecy, her sole ambition to fulfill the role of a worthy queen. Yet, it seemed, she had achieved the title without ever capturing her husband's heart.

She knew it was common for a king to have multiple wives, but she had harbored a secret hope for a love as profound as the one her parents had shared. Her father had been devoted to her mother, his only wife, his soulmate. She had dreamed of experiencing a similar bond, a love that transcended the boundaries of royal duty.

"How childish of me." she whispers .

Now that she reflects on her time together with her husband . She realized that they had spent only six months as a married couple . And even then, they had consummated the marriage just once , even that for formality.

She could still vividly recall his words, reassuring her that she had no obligation to engage in physical intimacy if she was not ready. Back then , she thought that her husband was being considerate.

Soon , those days passed, their relationship marked by a deliberate avoidance of consummation. When she herself wished for intimacy . He had insisted, "You are my queen. Let us begin by firstly becoming friends, we shall spend a long time together."

Friends? How ridiculous is that , to think the last time he talked was about a year and half ago , after that he went to war at the southern border. He never even replied back to her letters, not even once , she waited for his return like a fool .

In the end, their marriage had been a hollow charade, a perpetual pretense of love and devotion. She had clung to the illusion of a fulfilling partnership, a naive belief that he saw her as more than just a queen.

But as she contemplated these painful truths, she was forced to confront the harsh reality: he had never truly regarded her as his wife, only as a symbol of his royal status.