The Brat & The Duke

The chamber was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of candlelight. The heavy curtains swayed slightly as a cold breeze seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

The silence was thick, suffocating, yet Bianca sat there, veiled and poised, her heart racing in anticipation.

At last, she thought. I'll be queen. The Crown Prince is mine.

Her fingers clutched the edges of her gown, excitement bubbling beneath her breath. She had played her cards right, endured the unbearable, and now, she was moments away from claiming the throne.

Then, the veil lifted.

She smiled seductively, her lips parting just enough to draw him in—but the moment her eyes landed on the figure before her, every inch of her body froze.

This… was not the Crown Prince.

The man before her was rugged, scarred, and older than she had expected. His dark eyes regarded her with quiet amusement, his lips curled into something that almost resembled a smirk.

He was nothing like the prince she had imagined—nothing like the man she had been promised.

Bianca blinked rapidly, trying to process what she was seeing.

'Who the hell is this?!'

Still, she forced herself to remain calm. Perhaps this was some kind of test. Maybe he was still royalty, just not what she had pictured. She licked her lips and softened her gaze, her voice smooth like honey.

"My prince…"

The man raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Prince?" he repeated. "I am no prince. I'm the Duke."

Silence.

Bianca stared at him, her mind failing to comprehend the words.

"D-Duke?" she stammered.

"Yes, Duke." His tone was as dry as sand.

She gasps, her hand flying to her chest.

She leaps off the bed, knocking over a candle.

"WHAT?!"

She shot up so quickly that the edge of her gown caught under her foot, nearly sending her sprawling. She caught herself on the bedpost, her breath coming in sharp gasps.

"No, no, no. This is a mistake! A disaster! I was supposed to marry the Crown Prince!" Her voice pitched higher with every word.

The Duke merely watched, arms crossed over his chest.

"This can't be real," she muttered, pacing in frantic circles.

"I was supposed to be a queen! Not—not the wife of some—some—" She turned, pointing a trembling finger at him. "Some duke!"

The Duke shrugged. "And yet, here we are."

Bianca let out a strangled noise of frustration before spinning on her heel and bolting for the door. She didn't know where she was going—she just needed to get out of her nightmare.

The moment she stepped outside, however, she came to an abrupt halt.

She bolts for the door.

Outside, she stumbles into the cold air… and stops.

She looks around. And freezes.

Where are the golden towers? The Celestial lights? The divine aura?

Instead of heaven, she sees old, gothic buildings. A dark, eerie mansion. Fog creeping on the ground.

The air smells of damp stone and something sinister.

"Wait… where am I?"

The Duke steps behind her, his voice dripping amusement.

"You thought you were going to Heaven?"

Bianca turns sharply.

"This isn't Valyria either—"

The Duke stepped up beside her, his voice disturbingly calm. "You thought you were going to Heaven?"

Bianca's throat tightened.

She spun to face him. "This isn't Valeria either—"

The Duke's smirk deepened. "Oh, Princess! Welcome to White Raven."

The color drained from Bianca's face.

"No… no, no, NO!"

Her scream echoed through the empty streets.

---

Queen Naomi sat upon her throne, her nails tapping rhythmically against the armrest. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, yet even that did little to calm her nerves.

Austin entered the chamber, his steps slow, measured. His face was unreadable, but Naomi knew him too well. Something was wrong.

She straightened, fixing him with a sharp gaze. "What is it? You look troubled."

Austin hesitated, then exhaled softly.

"There's been… a mistake."

Naomi's fingers stilled.

"What kind of mistake?" Her voice was quiet, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Austin stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It was Bianca who was taken to White Raven. Not Ariel."

Silence.

Naomi blinked once. Then twice.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh.

"You're joking, right?"

Austin said nothing.

Her smile wavered.

"Wait… You're serious?"

Austin nodded.

Naomi rose from her throne in one fluid motion, her expression unreadable.

"That means…" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "My daughter is trapped in that wretched place?"

Austin held her gaze. "It's not the worst kingdom."

Naomi scoffed, shaking her head. "It's not Heaven either, is it?"

"No," Austin admitted.

Naomi clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists.

"No. This was that wench Ariel's doing. She thinks she's clever, escaping my grasp? She thinks she's won?"

Austin watched her carefully, his expression unreadable.

Naomi took a slow, deep breath. Then, she turned to him, her eyes dark with unspoken fury.

"Where is she?"

Austin hesitated. "The Celestial Kingdom has not seen any sign of Ariel."

Naomi stilled.

"…What?"

Austin remained silent.

The room seemed to darken, the air thickening with tension.

"Find her. Now!"