Chapter 7-8

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Chapter 7: The Royal Dinner

The grand dining hall of the Ardentis palace had seen many noble banquets and political feasts, but it had rarely witnessed this much chaos over mashed potatoes.

Tia stood at the entrance, blinking in confusion.

Her golden hair was braided simply, and she wore a soft pastel gown—one of her favorites. She'd come expecting the usual quiet dinner: a half-empty table, awkward silence, maybe a few rushed words from her mother or brothers before they left for work.

Instead, she was greeted with noise. Glorious, unfiltered, familial noise.

"You call that a sword grip?" Kaelen, the second prince, scoffed as he waved his fork like a rapier. "I've seen court ladies hold teacups more threateningly."

"That's because I don't fence with forks," Alaric replied flatly, parrying with his spoon. "I rule a kingdom, not a tavern brawl."

"Not with those noodle arms, you don't."

The empress, Seraphina, sighed but didn't hide her smile as she set more dishes down on the table. "If either of you breaks another plate, you'll be training on an empty stomach tomorrow."

Kael and Alaric both froze mid-swing.

Tia giggled.

"Oh good, she's here!" the emperor exclaimed, standing with a warm grin. "Come, sweetheart. Sit next to me."

Tia's eyes widened a little as she walked to the table. Never before had she been called to sit between her father and brothers—always at the edge, always quiet.

Now, her place was at the center.

As she sat, a servant poured her drink. Her personal maids stood by the wall with soft smiles, and her old nanny dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Tia, here—eat this," Kaelen said, reaching over to steal the juiciest roast from her plate.

Tia's mouth opened. "That was mine!"

"I'm checking it for poison," he said seriously. "You're the only princess in this kingdom. Can't be too careful."

"By eating it?"

"Exactly. I'm brave like that."

Alaric rolled his eyes and reached for a vegetable dish—only for his mother to intercept and heap his plate with steamed carrots.

"Mother!" he groaned. "I'm not five anymore."

"You'll always be five to me," the empress replied serenely. "Eat your carrots."

Kaelen promptly choked on his drink, laughing. "Your Highness, the ruler of the kingdom, defeated by root vegetables."

"Oh, hush. You cried for three days when your wooden sword broke," Alaric snapped.

"That was a tactical emotional response!" Kaelen declared.

Everyone turned to Tia when she snorted mid-laugh and quickly covered her mouth. Her face turned a shade pinker than her cup of berry juice.

Silence stretched for half a beat.

Then the emperor chuckled.

Then Kaelen wheezed.

Then the whole table burst into laughter.

As the bickering continued—Alaric attempting to defend his dignity, Kaelen plotting dessert theft, the empress pretending not to smile—the warm hum of family surrounded Tia.

She didn't speak much.

She didn't need to.

Her small, quiet laughter nestled perfectly into the noise.

She was no longer invisible.

She was loved.

---

Later that evening, soft giggles floated through Princess Tia's chambers.

"Gently—don't tug too hard," she squeaked, trying not to squirm as her personal maid brushed her hair.

"Yes, Your Highness," the maid replied with a chuckle, carefully weaving the last strand of gold into a loose braid. Another maid folded her dress while the third laid her nightgown over the warm bedding.

"You seemed really happy tonight," her nanny commented with a fond smile, tucking in the corners of her sheets.

"I was!" Tia beamed, swinging her legs off the edge of the bed. "Everyone was there. Mama gave Alaric carrots. Kaelen almost fell off his chair laughing. Even Father smiled so much. It felt like… a festival."

The older women exchanged warm glances.

"I wish it could be like this every day," Tia said dreamily, hugging her pillow.

"And it will be, little blossom," her nanny said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Because this family has finally remembered how precious you are."

Tia smiled, eyes fluttering shut as she curled into her bed.

The laughter of the dining hall lingered like a lullaby, and for the first time in a long time—there were no nightmares.

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That Same Night, in the Emperor and Empress's Chamber

The royal bedroom was lit by a golden-glass lamp. A small table in the corner was strewn with scrolls, quills, and half-filled reports. Emperor Kael Ardentis sat in his night tunic, reading over a stack of financial records. Across from him, Empress Seraphina stirred her herbal tea and reviewed cultivation plans.

It would have looked like an ordinary night.

If not for the slight crease in Kael's brow.

"The Duke of Carthas has continued submitting the same falsified reports," he muttered. "If we wait until harvest season, it might be too late again. I want to send someone to the South. A promising young official from the financial bureau—his name is Callen Daire . Loyal. Brilliant. And more importantly, cautious."

Seraphina looked up from her notes, her eyes serious. "Callen... wasn't he the one who exposed the grain fraud in the eastern towns last time?"

"Yes," Kael nodded. "He died trying to warn us. But this time… he won't."

She set down her teacup and leaned forward slightly. "Then send him. Quietly. Let's not alert Carthas."

Kael sighed, leaning back in his chair. "The rebellion began because we were blind. Those poor southern soldiers were starving and unpaid, and we had no idea. Lily used that—turned their desperation into hatred. I still remember the look on their faces when they stormed the city. They didn't hate us... they resented us."

Seraphina's gaze softened as she reached out and took his hand.

"We were trying our best," she said gently. "But we were just a family trying to learn how to rule. We didn't realize how far the rot had spread."

Kael stared down at their hands, calloused fingers intertwined.

"You should have left," he whispered. "When the palace burned, when the nobles betrayed us—you could have fled with the children."

"I didn't want to," Seraphina replied, brushing his knuckles with her thumb. "My place is beside you. Always has been."

He looked up, and the tension in his shoulders eased.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

Seraphina smiled. "Then you're lucky I'm stubborn."

They both chuckled quietly.

"And our children…" she added, voice softening again. "They're alive. They're with us. This time, we'll protect them."

Kael reached over and pulled her gently into his arms.

"This time," he repeated, holding her close, "we'll protect everything."

Outside, the moon bathed the castle in silver.

The past would not repeat itself.

Not under their watch.

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Chapter 8 (continued): A Blooming Curiosity

The morning sun spilled into the dining hall, casting golden rays across the long table where the imperial family shared their breakfast. Soft laughter, teasing remarks, and the warmth of familial comfort filled the air.

As Tia reached for a cup of milk, she glanced at her mother with a hesitant smile. "Mother… can I accompany you to your department today?"

She expected a gentle refusal, as always. It was more of a playful test than a serious request.

To her surprise, the empress smiled brightly. "Of course, my dear. I would love to have you by my side."

Tia blinked. "Really?"

Kaelen leaned on the table, smirking. "Just don't faint in the middle of the greenhouse, little bud. The farmers might mistake you for a wilting cabbage."

Tia narrowed her eyes. "I'm more of a radiant sunflower, thank you."

That made everyone chuckle—Alaric simply sipped his tea with a soft smile, while the emperor chuckled behind his napkin.

The day had only just begun, but it already felt like a cherished memory.

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Later that morning, the empress and Tia walked through the expansive agricultural wing of the palace grounds. As they stepped into the department, officials and scholars scrambled to their feet, bowing deeply at the rare appearance of not one but two royals.

"Your Majesty," they greeted with respectful voices. "And… Princess Libertia?"

"She's here to observe and learn," the empress said kindly. "Do carry on."

They were led to the greenhouse—humid and fragrant, filled with neatly arranged rows of crops, herbs, and experimental plants.

The empress examined a clipboard one of the officials handed her. Her emerald eyes scanned the report swiftly, then narrowed slightly.

"You've listed an increase in yield for this rice variety… but looking at the soil's moisture retention levels, I suspect the roots are being oversaturated. That will affect long-term sustainability."

The officials looked at one another nervously. "We hadn't accounted for that..."

"And this wheat strain," she continued, pointing, "needs to be rotated with legumes, or the soil will be depleted within two seasons."

Tia followed behind her mother, wide-eyed and impressed.

The empress turned to another official. "Also, begin preparing a section for root vegetables. We'll be testing soil viability soon. I want to see if we can introduce heartier crops."

The official bowed. "Understood, Your Majesty."

One of the younger researchers whispered to another, "She's… really sharp. No wonder the agricultural sector stabilized under her reign."

Tia stayed quiet, watching her mother in action—the confidence, the knowledge, the natural grace of someone who knew her worth not through titles, but through work.

She had never known this side of her mother. Not like this.

"I want to be like that," Tia whispered to herself with a soft smile.

The empress, hearing it, glanced back and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. "And you will be. You're my daughter, after all."

---

After the greenhouse inspection, Tia followed her mother into the Empress's office—a bright and spacious chamber filled with scrolls, maps of farmland, and bundles of dried herbs hanging by the window. A soft breeze carried the scent of earth and lavender, calming the nerves.

The Empress sat gracefully behind her desk, flipping through the morning reports. Tia, still in awe, sat nearby on a cushioned stool, a steaming cup of herbal tea warming her hands.

"This one's from the Northern estates," the Empress murmured, her green eyes scanning a parchment. "The soil there is recovering, but the yield from the last batch of barley was lower than expected."

Tia tilted her head. "Why is that?"

"The frost hit late this year. I told them to stagger the planting, but some ignored the suggestion. We may need to rotate that land and switch to root vegetables in the next cycle. They survive the cold better." She paused, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the desk. "Perhaps red radish or winter carrots."

Tia blinked. "Mother, you remember all of this?"

The Empress chuckled softly. "It's my domain, little leaf. Just as your brother knows the names of every general in the Southern front, I know every seed in my soil."

Tia sipped her tea, her eyes wide with admiration. She had never truly seen this side of her mother—so calm, so competent, and entirely in control. In the past, they rarely spent time together like this. She soaked in every word like a sponge.

The Empress suddenly stilled, her hand hovering above another report.

Sweet potato.

A memory surged—a time from the last life. She remembered Lily introducing a new crop to the empire. It had been called camora or sweet root, something native to a neighboring country. It had low maintenance, high nutrition, and grew even in poor soil. When the famine struck, it became a staple.

Back then, the royal family had been too distracted, too fractured to see the value in it. But Lily had taken credit for its introduction and won favor with the people.

'If we secure that crop before the famine begins…' the Empress thought, her expression tightening for a second before she masked it.

She'd discuss it with Kael tonight.

"Mother?" Tia's soft voice brought her back.

The Empress smiled, reaching over to tuck a golden strand behind Tia's ear. "Just thinking of what more we can plant this year."

"Will I get to come again?"

"Only if you promise not to fall asleep while reading the soil reports," the Empress teased.

Tia giggled. "No promises!"

The two laughed together, and for a rare moment, the office felt more like home than court.

Outside, the sun shone bright, warming the fields of the empire slowly being reshaped—this time, with love and foresight.

---

The soft clinking of silverware and mellow candlelight marked the end of a peaceful day. The imperial family dined together again, laughter lingering in the air as they talked about gardens, paperwork, and minor palace gossip. Afterward, they each retreated to their chambers, content.

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Late Evening – Emperor and Empress's Chambers

The quiet of the imperial bedroom was comforting—candlelight flickered gently on the walls, casting a golden hue over the table where two familiar figures sat, wrapped in the stillness of shared routine.

The empress, Seraphina, held a parchment in her hand, eyes scanning a report from the agricultural department. Her hair was loosely braided over her shoulder, and the scent of fresh herbs lingered faintly on her sleeves from the day's inspection.

Across from her, Emperor Kael rubbed his temples and glanced up from a report on military supply chains. He reached for the teapot between them and poured her a cup without asking—an old habit from simpler times.

"You've been quiet," he said softly.

Seraphina sighed, setting down the parchment. "I was just thinking… about something I'd forgotten until today."

He looked at her, waiting.

"Do you remember that strange root crop Lily introduced in the past life?" she asked, her voice more thoughtful than accusing. "The one from the western border—sweet potato, I think they called it?"

Kael leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as the memory stirred. "I do. She presented it in the name of innovation and earned favor with the agricultural council."

Seraphina nodded. "It was hardy. Grows even in poor soil. Stored well. It was one of the reasons the famine didn't devastate the people more than it already had."

She paused, then added bitterly, "Of course, it wasn't her discovery. She took the credit from a poor merchant who'd brought the seeds years before."

Kael frowned. "I never knew that part."

"No one did. But I overheard her once… mocking the merchant with Jane. She paid to silence him later."

Silence fell.

Kael's hands clenched slowly over the edge of the report he held. "We were blind."

Seraphina reached over and gently placed her hand over his. "We won't be again."

He relaxed under her touch.

"I want to secure that crop ourselves," she continued. "I've already listed some potential regions where it might be sourced. If we contact the right merchants early, we can cultivate it before winter begins."

Kael smiled faintly, admiration in his eyes. "You never stop thinking ahead, do you?"

She gave him a tired grin. "Someone has to. You were always better with swords than seeds."

He chuckled softly. "Fair."

A pause. Then his gaze softened.

"Seraphina… thank you," he said, his voice quiet and sincere. "For staying by me. Through everything. Even when we lost everything."

Her eyes met his.

"I married a blacksmith's son who became a king," she whispered. "And I would do it all over again—even if the world burned."

Kael leaned forward and kissed her knuckles. "This time, we'll stop the fire."

She nodded, placing her other hand over his. "Together."

Just then—

A sharp cry split the calm.

It was distant—but unmistakable.

A scream.

Tia.

Both of them froze for a single heartbeat, blood draining from their faces.

Then they were up, chairs scraping back violently.

Kael had already reached for his sword.

Seraphina was at the door in seconds.

"Tia!" she called, voice already breaking.

They didn't wait for guards.

They ran.

---

Tia, still a little drowsy from the warmth of dinner and her garden strolls, was tucked into bed by her maids. "Goodnight, my lady," they whispered as they left her chamber.

The room dimmed, and silence fell.

---

The darkness didn't stay peaceful for long.

Flames rose, licking the edges of her vision. Smoke billowed across the palace grounds, suffocating and thick.

Blood stained the white marble.

Tia stood barefoot in the throne room. Her hands trembled, covered in crimson. Her voice refused to come out as she ran through the smoke, searching—

"Mother?" she cried.

She saw them.

Her family.

But they looked past her, their eyes empty and cold. Their lips moved—but not to call her name.

They were speaking to someone else.

A girl in white stood beside them, weeping softly.

Tia tried to speak, but her throat burned. Her legs refused to move.

The queen cradled the girl. Her brothers stood protectively around her. Her father gave her a gentle smile.

Tia reached out.

But none of them looked at her.

Instead, they turned.

And one by one… they fell.

Their blood pooled around the girl in white.

She turned toward Tia with a smile so sweet, it stung.

"You were always in the way," the voice whispered.

"Stop!" Tia screamed, lungs bursting.

---

"NO!!"

She shot up, drenched in sweat, her scream echoing through the palace.

Her maids burst from their corner room, just as the main chamber doors flew open.

The emperor arrived first, sword already half-drawn. The empress ran straight to the bed.

"Tia!" she cried, wrapping her daughter into her arms.

Tia shook violently, unable to speak, her face buried in her mother's chest.

The crown prince and second prince ran in behind them, eyes wide with panic.

"What happened? Is she hurt?"

The empress held her tighter. "Shh, it's alright. Mama's here, sweetheart."

Tia sobbed quietly as the storm of her nightmare faded.

After a while, she whispered, "I saw blood… and all of you dying… and none of you could see me."

Her voice cracked.

Her family's expressions fell with horror and guilt.

"No one was looking at me… you were all hugging someone else…"

The empress kissed her forehead. "That was just a dream, love. None of that is real. We're here. All of us."

The emperor knelt at the bedside, voice gentle. "No nightmare will take us from you."

Alaric placed a hand on her blanket-covered foot. "You're stuck with us, Tia."

Kaelen sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her damp fringe back. "And if any nightmare tries again, I'll punch it."

Tia looked around at their faces.

Warm. Real. Present.

She breathed slowly, heart easing.

"…You're here," she whispered, her voice small and relieved. "You're really here."

She curled into her mother's side again, sleep claiming her little by little.

This time, the flames stayed away.

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