Roses and Steel

Chapter 10: Roses and Steel

Rose Palace

Garden

The sun had not yet begun to fall, but its warmth no longer touched her.

Beneath a lattice of blooming white roses, Mireth sat in silence, the soft cushion beneath her doing little to ease the weight in her chest. Pale petals drifted lazily on the breeze, carried like forgotten thoughts across the quiet garden. It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful.

Yet her eyes were dull.

She blinked slowly, expression soft but distant, as if she were seeing something far beyond the hedges and the manicured paths. Something only she could see.

After a moment, she looked to the maid beside her and gently said,

"Bring me the embroidery."

The maid nodded and disappeared. A few moments later, she returned with a small box of fabric and threads. Mireth accepted it without a word and began to stitch in silence... though her hands moved slowly, uncertainly, as if her mind wasn't with her.

Her embroidery thread snagged.

She didn't notice.

And then...

Footsteps.

A figure in blue approached from the stone archway at the far end of the garden, boots crunching lightly on gravel. The knight's long, sharp ponytail of ocean-blue hair shimmered faintly in the sun.

Julie.

Juliet the commoner... sworn knight of the Crown Prince.

Her usual sly smirk was nowhere to be seen. Her brows were drawn together, eyes scanning the garden until they landed on the woman beneath the white rose lattice.

She approached with a calm but urgent air.

"My Lady Mireth," she said respectfully, "do you know where His Highness is?"

Mireth didn't respond. Her needle had paused mid-stitch, suspended above a half-formed petal. She stared at it quietly.

Julie waited.

Then Mireth finally looked up at her... not coldly, but as if through a veil. Her eyes, once so gentle and full of quiet resolve, now seemed… fragile.

She said nothing.

Instead, she looked down again and whispered,

"So… you don't wish to stay with me either now, Julie?"

Julie froze.

The garden, for all its beauty, felt suddenly far too still.

"…Aunt," she said softly.

Mireth gave a soft breath... it could have been a laugh, or just a sigh. Her eyes trembled, and she smiled, faint and tired.

"Look how big you've grown," she said. "You've become a fine woman. A real knight. I still remember when you first entered the palace, clinging to my hand…"

Julie's lips tightened.

She looked at her hands... her knuckles were rough, covered in faint scars and callouses, her palms marked with the years of sword training and battlefield drills. Hands that had once been soft.

"…Yeah," she murmured. "I've grown."

She knelt beside Mireth and placed her hand gently on the wooden bench, as if reaching for some piece of her childhood.

"I'm sorry I couldn't visit more often. I… I've been busy. As the Crown Prince's knight."

Mireth smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"No, it's alright. I know how hard you've worked. I've seen you from afar, and I've heard the servants speak of you. You've done well. And I'm proud of you, Julie."

The needle finally touched cloth again, though her hand trembled.

"At first, I… I worried if I had done the right thing. Bringing you here. Entrusting you to this palace and its people. But now… now I see you've found your path."

Her voice wavered.

And as she spoke, the lines beneath her eyes seemed deeper. The tiredness that clung to her posture, the slow movement of her limbs... it all spoke of someone worn down by something more than sleepless nights.

Julie noticed.

She lowered her voice, almost a whisper.

"…You don't look alright."

"I'm just tired," Mireth replied softly. "That's all."

Her needle paused again.

"Just… visit me more often. Please. I don't have anyone else. Just my children. And you."

Julie said nothing. The words sat heavy in the garden, more real than the perfume of roses or the soft rustling of petals.

After a while, Mireth looked up again and added,

"You were asking about His Highness?"

Julie nodded.

Mireth's gaze drifted toward the far corridor.

"He probably returned already… or perhaps he's gone to visit the Second Princess."

There was something in her voice when she said it.

Not anger. But distance. A truth too deep to be touched by feelings anymore.

The wind stirred again, carrying the scent of the white roses across the silent courtyard.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

_____________

Cinderella Palace

Second Princess's Personal Training Grounds

The wind fluttered through his long crimson robes as he strode silently beneath the ivory-arched corridor of the Cinderella Palace.

The sunlight filtered down through the stained glass above, painting fleeting colors across the smooth stone floor. His steps made no sound, but the weight of his presence echoed in every corner.

Aven DragonBlood... crown prince of the empire... turned the last corner, his gaze sharp and fixed. Ahead stood a broad set of double doors, the runes carved into their surface glowing faintly as they responded to his aura.

Beyond them, the air changed.

He stepped into the training grounds.

A vast stone hall, walled and floored in polished grey marble reinforced with ancient magic crystals. Racks of practice swords, shields, and staves lined the far walls. Sunlight poured through the enchanted skylight above, casting a single glowing beam into the center of the arena. And there... beneath that light... stood her.

Aella DragonBlood.

Golden hair like molten sunlight, braided behind her back. Eyes the color of rubies, sharp and wild... her father's fire burned in them.

She wore a sleek black training outfit that hugged her form, and in her right hand, a longsword. She stood still, sword low, head tilted slightly upward... as if listening or seeing something only she could see or hear.

The air was still. Not a single movement, not even the flicker of her hair. Just the sound of her breath… slow, steady, controlled.

She hadn't noticed him enter.

Aven's eyes narrowed as he observed her. Her expression was unreadable... calm, yet distant. Like her mind was far from here. Somewhere unreachable.

Without a word, he walked to the edge of the training ring and picked up a practice sword from a rack. It was light in his grip. He didn't hesitate.

He threw it.

Swish!

It cut through the air like a streak of silver lightning, aimed directly at her chest.

But it stopped.

An inch before her skin, the sword froze midair.

Then...

Swish!

It reversed course, flying back toward him with the same deadly precision.

Aven didn't flinch. His eyes followed the blade, tracking it calmly. And just before impact...

He turned. A fluid, effortless motion. The blade grazed past his shoulder, missing him by less than an inch.

Clang!

The sword embedded itself deep into the stone wall behind him.

He turned back.

Still… she hadn't moved.

He approached slowly now, his steps echoing in the chamber. His expression, cold and unreadable.

Then...

Her body shifted.

She blinked once. Her gaze snapped into focus. She felt him.

A sudden inhale.

Her red eyes widened, and something cracked in them... sadness, confusion, something unspoken. She turned toward him, and...

In the blink of an eye, she moved.

Flash.

Her black-clad figure shot forward, and before Aven could even raise a hand...

She hugged him.

Tightly.

Her face buried against his chest, her arms locked around him like she had waited for this moment for years.

Aven's brows furrowed. This... this wasn't like her.

She was shorter than him, just reaching his shoulder, and yet her embrace was full of force, like the world might shatter if she let go.

He stood there.

Still.

Then...

With a small nudge from his palm, a light push...

She fell.

Her body hit the cold stone floor, but she didn't look away. Her red eyes locked onto his... still filled with that same joy, that unexplainable happiness.

He looked down at her. His expression was the opposite.

Cold. Confused. Angry.

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then his voice cut through the air like a blade.

"WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE?!"

His gaze didn't waver.

And neither did hers.