The Beloved Queen

The sun shone bright over Celestafell, its golden rays illuminating the city's streets, now bustling with purpose. Vendors called out their wares, laborers hauled stone and timber to construction sites, and a steady rhythm of hammers echoed through the air. The city walls, once decrepit and stifling, were coming down section by section. In their place, teams of masons and carpenters worked to erect grander, more expansive fortifications under Serena's direct orders.

Serena and Lucien walked side by side down one of the wide, cobbled streets leading toward the outer perimeter. Her stride was confident, purposeful, her black cloak sweeping behind her as her boots clicked against the stones. Lucien followed reluctantly, his steps slower, his gaze flickering over the industrious chaos around them. Though his chains were gone, the weight of her presence beside him felt just as binding.

"Look at it, Lucien," Serena said, gesturing toward a team of workers hauling stone blocks into place. "This city was rotting before. Its walls crumbling, its spirit beaten down. Now? It's alive. Thriving."

Lucien didn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he watched the laborers. A part of him wanted to argue, to dismiss her claims as arrogance, but the truth was undeniable. The walls were taller now, their foundations reinforced with polished stone. The workers moved with a sense of purpose that hadn't existed before. It stung to admit it, but the city under her rule was… better.

As they approached a particularly busy stretch near the market, a vendor waved enthusiastically from behind a stall brimming with freshly baked bread. "My Lady! Vengeful One!" the woman called out, her voice filled with warmth. "Come, try this—it's my newest recipe! I call it the 'Victory Loaf,' in honor of your triumph!"

Serena arched a brow, amused, as she approached the stall. "Victory Loaf? That's quite the name," she said, taking the offered piece of bread. She tore off a small bite and chewed thoughtfully, her crimson eyes glinting with approval. "It's excellent. Soft, flavorful… I see why you're proud of it."

The vendor beamed, practically glowing with pride. "Anything for you, my Lady. Without your reforms, I wouldn't have been able to afford half these ingredients."

Serena nodded, her expression warm but still regal. "Then keep perfecting your craft. A city's strength comes not only from its walls, but from its people and their skills." She moved on, leaving the vendor smiling brightly.

Lucien watched the exchange in silence, his brows furrowing. He couldn't remember a single instance when someone had so eagerly called out to his father. Even as lord, his father's presence had always been met with wary deference or outright fear. Yet here was Serena, a woman who had seized power through violence, walking through the streets to cheers and genuine warmth.

Further along, a fruit vendor stepped forward, holding up a basket of gleaming apples. "My Lady! Please, try one! They're the finest of the season."

Serena stopped, plucking an apple from the basket and turning it over in her hand. She took a small bite, her expression briefly contemplative before a smile curved her lips. "Crisp, sweet… you've done well. Keep supplying the market with these, and I'll see that your trade license is expedited."

"Thank you, my Lady!" the vendor said with a bow, nearly tripping over himself in his enthusiasm.

As they walked on, a vegetable seller rushed forward with a handful of vibrant carrots. "For the Dark Messiah! The best harvest we've had in years!"

A butcher offered a cured sausage. A flower seller presented a bouquet of freshly picked blooms, insisting that even a queen as fearsome as Serena deserved a touch of beauty. Everywhere they went, people reached out to her, their faces bright with gratitude and admiration.

Lucien's scowl deepened with every step, his jaw tight as he struggled to reconcile what he was seeing. "They worship you," he muttered, his voice low and laced with bitterness.

Serena glanced at him sideways, her smirk barely concealed. "And why shouldn't they? I've given them more in a five months than your father did in five years. They see the results, Lucien. Results speak louder than empty titles."

"Results built on blood and fear," he shot back, though his voice lacked its usual venom. "They cheer for you now, but how long will it last when they see what you really are?"

Serena paused, turning to face him fully. The light of the midday sun caught the crown perched atop her head, its rubies glowing like embers. "What I am is exactly what they need, Lucien. They don't care if their ruler is kind or cruel. They care that their children are fed, their homes are safe, and their city stands strong. I deliver that. Your father didn't."

He opened his mouth to argue, but her words hung heavy in the air, undeniable. The bustling streets around them painted a clear picture: merchants laughing, children playing, workers toiling with pride rather than fear. The city was alive in a way it had never been under his father's reign.

A nearby blacksmith, his hands blackened with soot, called out as they passed. "My Lady! The new armory is coming along beautifully. The guard's equipment has never been better."

Serena inclined her head. "Excellent. I'll inspect it personally when the first shipment is ready. Keep up the good work."

Lucien turned away, his fists clenched at his sides. "They've handed everything over to you without a second thought," he said, his voice tight. "Do they even remember the Vaeral name? Or have they forgotten us so quickly?"

"They remember," Serena replied, her tone softer now. "But memory is a fickle thing, Lucien. Loyalty doesn't come from lineage—it comes from action. If you want them to remember your name with pride, give them a reason. Otherwise, they'll remember it as the name of a family who let them suffer."

She started walking again, leaving him standing there in the middle of the street, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. Around him, the people of Celestafell continued their work, their lives better than they had been in years. And in that moment, Lucien couldn't help but wonder if, despite his hatred for her, Serena might truly be what the city needed.

The stone corridors of the castle were quiet save for the faint murmur of activity behind closed doors. Lian, clad in her freshly issued armor, stood before the grand double doors that led to the throne room. Her expression was resolute, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as she faced the two guards stationed before the entrance.

"I need to speak with the Vengeful One," she said firmly, her hands gripping her helmet against her side.

The taller of the two guards—a burly man with a thick beard—crossed his arms and stared her down. "The Queen is busy. She has no time for... trivialities."

Lian straightened, her jaw tightening. "It's important. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

The second guard, a younger man with a nervous twitch, glanced at her apologetically before shaking his head. "She's reviewing the city's expansion plans. You'll have to come back another time."

"I'm not leaving until I've spoken to her," Lian pressed, her voice rising slightly. "This isn't something that can wait."

The older guard stepped forward, his voice dropping into a growl. "You'll leave now, soldier, before you waste any more of the Queen's—"

A sudden rush of wind surged through the corridor, whipping Lian's hair from her face and rustling the guards' cloaks. The air seemed to hum with an unseen energy, and before anyone could react, Serena appeared between them, her black cloak settling around her as if she'd stepped out of thin air.

"What's this?" she asked, her crimson eyes gleaming with curiosity as she looked at the startled trio. Her voice was calm but carried an unmistakable weight that made the guards stiffen. She turned her gaze toward Lian, her expression softening just enough to signal interest. "You needed to speak with me, soldier?"

Lian's eyes widened briefly, and she scrambled to bow. "My Lady—I didn't mean to interrupt your work, but—"

Serena held up a hand, silencing her with a small, knowing smile. "If you've come all this way, it must be important. I have time." She turned her sharp gaze toward the guards, who flinched under her scrutiny. "Step aside."

The older guard hesitated, his mouth opening as if to protest, but Serena's eyes narrowed, her tone hardening. "I said, step aside."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances before stepping back, allowing Lian to pass. Serena turned, her cloak sweeping dramatically as she gestured for Lian to follow. As they crossed the threshold into the throne room, Serena paused just long enough to deliver a pointed look over her shoulder.

"Let this be clear to both of you," she said, her voice cold and commanding. "All of my soldiers—regardless of rank—have the right to speak with me. This city thrives because of them, and I will not have their voices silenced by gatekeepers. Is that understood?"

The guards snapped to attention, their faces pale as they saluted. "Yes, my Lady," they said in unison.

Satisfied, Serena continued into the throne room, her steps echoing against the polished stone. She didn't look back, confident that her words had left the proper impression. Lian followed closely, her heart pounding, both from the encounter and from the sheer presence of the woman before her.

Inside the throne room, Serena gestured toward a side table where maps and parchments were scattered. "Now, soldier," she said, turning to face Lian directly. "Tell me what's so important that you braved my guards to speak with me."

Lian stood a little straighter, the weight of Serena's attention on her both intimidating and strangely reassuring. "My Lady, it's about the outer wards and the soldiers stationed there. They've been requesting additional supplies—armor, rations, and repairs to their barracks—but the requests haven't been answered. They're stretched thin, and morale is starting to drop."

Serena tilted her head, her crimson eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And you've come to me directly because…?"

"Because I thought you'd want to know," Lian replied boldly. "And because I know you don't tolerate inefficiency. If those requests aren't being fulfilled, someone isn't doing their job."

For a moment, Serena said nothing, simply studying Lian with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and approval. Then, a faint smile curved her lips. "You're right. I don't tolerate inefficiency."

She moved toward the table, scanning the scattered documents before plucking one from the pile. Her eyes darted across the page, and a flicker of irritation crossed her face. "It seems some of my stewards need a reminder of their priorities. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lian. The outer wards will have what they need before the week is out. And those responsible for the delays… will be dealt with."

Lian blinked, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over her. "Thank you, my Lady. I just—thank you."

Serena waved a dismissive hand, her smile softening just a fraction. "You did well to come to me. Now, go. Return to your post, and tell your comrades that their Queen hasn't forgotten them."

Lian saluted, her chest swelling with pride. "Yes, my Lady." She turned and left the room, her steps brisk and purposeful.

As the doors closed behind her, Serena returned to her desk, her expression sharpening once more. "I'll need to make some changes," she muttered to herself, picking up her quill. "No more bottlenecks. My soldiers deserve better than this."

She smirked faintly as she began drafting her next set of orders, the encounter with Lian a reminder of the loyalty she demanded—and the loyalty she rewarded.