Virgin Empress

There was nothing but despair.

She didn't know what went wrong. Who could blame her? Mikhail had always kept her in the dark. Every time she tried to help, he pushed her away, insisting that a lady with no formal education had no place dabbling in politics. She should have known better. She had been a puppet all along, a mere pawn in a grand game. How foolish she had been to yearn for a love that was never hers to have.

The Virgin Empress.

How laughable. Now, she sat in a damp dungeon, awaiting her death. Yesterday, they had slaughtered her clan. Today, she would be beheaded for crimes she had never committed. She had been made to be a scapegoat, and that was the bitter reality of it all.

"Councilor Valdur, we apologize, but we cannot permit you to enter without authorized instruction," a guard's voice echoed off the stone walls. Her ears perked up at the name—Alphie?

"I have been granted permission. You may take a break."

"We haven't been—"

"I said stand down. If, by chance, I did receive permission and you denied me entry, would that not mean defying the emperor himself?"

The guard hesitated, then relented.

She had never heard the ever-gentle Alphie speak in such a commanding tone. His footsteps were light as he approached her cell. He crouched before her, and instinctively, she shrank back. He smelled of vanilla and cedar, while she reeked of filth, her dress soaked in the ungodly odors of the dungeon.

"Empress Mitina, please," his voice softened. "Don't back away from me like that—it hurts my feelings."

She chuckled dryly, her throat parched from days of scarce water and food. "Alphie, I look hideous."

"No," he said, moving closer to the steel bars. "You've always been beautiful, Mitina. Don't you remember what I said about your hair?"

She shook her head.

"I see," he murmured, still smiling, though sorrow laced his expression. "Mitina… I'm so sorry. I could have saved you, and yet… here you are."

"Don't be sorry, Alphie. This is my purpose. Since childhood, I was taught to obey, to be a puppet, to remain… helpless." She looked at him, smiling, though the tears streaming down her face betrayed her. "I'm quite foolish, aren't I?"

"Mitina, come closer."

"But I smell awful, and I look even worse," she whispered, shame tightening in her throat.

"Please," he urged. "Your hair is the color of peonies in full bloom, your eyes like sunset clouds. Every time I see you, I breathe a sigh of relief." His voice was gentle, soothing. "Do you remember now?"

She didn't. And yet, she nodded.

"Alphie… if I were to be reborn in another life, could we be friends?"

A pained expression flitted across his beautiful features. "Yes. I will make sure of that."

She crawled toward him, reaching out as though grasping for a wishing star. He took her hand in his—warm, steady, strong.

For the first time in her life, Mitina felt as though she had fallen in love.

She had never felt this way with her supposed husband. Yet, her truest love had been right in front of her all along—watching, guiding, believing in her. Perhaps, in another life, they could reunite.

A guard hollered that it was time for him to leave. Alphard obliged, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. He had always been kind to her, always taken her seriously, always valued her counsel.

When he left, something cold remained in her palm. Slowly, she turned it over—a small silver key glinted in the dim light.

She pressed it against her chest. Did he truly believe she could escape on her own? What a generous overestimation. But right now… what life was there left to live? Her entire bloodline had been wiped out. Mikhail intended to replace her with his secret lover. No one had ever been on her side.

Her heart ached as she slouched forward. So this was heartbreak… No, this was worse. She tried to call out to the guards, tried to tell them she was having a heart attack, but no sound escaped her open mouth. Her breathing grew ragged, labored. Was this how she would die? Alone, in a dingy cell?

She closed her eyes, pain coursing through her body. Please, she prayed, in the next life, let me meet him again.

Miracles did happen— this was Mitina's first thought when she opened her eyes again, only to find herself back in her younger body.

She was just shy of twelve, small for her age, often picked on by the boys—though now she realized they had done so because they fancied her.

She had hoped for a fresh start, a chance to rewrite her fate. But instead, time had rewound entirely. Whatever force had made this phenomenon possible, she was grateful for it.

At least she had awakened at a time before her engagement to the then-Prince Mikhail.

"Mitina!" Bitina's voice rang out, laced with worry. "We're going to get in trouble if Mother finds out you've been climbing trees again!"

"Let her get mad!" Mitina called back, laughter bubbling in her chest. This time, things would be different. She would no longer be a sheltered little princess, waiting for her fate to change.

Gripping the rough bark, she hoisted herself higher, her fingers finding purchase on the sturdy branches. "Bitina, you should try this!"

"Are you crazy?!" Bitina shrieked from below.

She watched as her twin hesitated, glancing around nervously before finally sighing in defeat. With careful movements, Bitina began to climb, her hands gripping the rough bark as she pulled herself up.

When she reached Mitina, her twin extended a hand to help her onto the sturdy branch where they now sat side by side.

From their perch, they had a clear view of the town beyond the palace walls—the bustling merchants, lively townspeople, and even street performers weaving through the crowds. Though they were far away, Mitina could still recognize some of them.

This time, she would not sit idly by.

This time, she would be the breeze that swept change into her life.