The Silver Palace

Trigger Warning: Emotional Manipulation. Reader discretion is advised.

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The vast corridors of the white palace echoed with the occasional sounds of footsteps and the hushed conversations of servants.

Ingrid faced a majestic door with practiced poise. Her chin was elevated and hands gracefully positioned at her front.

"Princess Ingrid is here to meet His Majesty," declared one of the silver-armored guards.

The doors parted from the inside, revealing the interior. The King's aide greeted Ingrid with a warm smile. "Come in, Your Highness."

Ingrid responded with a respectful curtsy. "Greetings, Sir," she said, bowing her head. She turned to the direction of the imposing man sat behind a desk, his long silver hair and light purple eyes added to his regal aura. "Greetings, Your Majesty."

Amidst the rustling of pages, King Fjolnir acknowledged her presence. "It is rare to see you. What brings you to me today?" he inquired, the tone impassive as if conversing with another aristocrat. 

"Your Majesty, I wish to learn painting. I hope to learn from a teacher," Ingrid replied, maintaining her deferential posture.

"Why bring this matter to me? It's a discussion better suited for your mother," the King replied, his attention fixed on his tasks without lifting his gaze.

"Her Majesty is still busy," Ingrid explained.

"Is she less busy than me, the King?" he retorted.

"It's okay. I did not expect much anyway," Ingrid reflected, though she found herself unconsciously digging her nails into her hands, a habit that she does when feeling stressed.

Ingrid drew a deep breath and executed a graceful curtsy. "I beg your pardon for my insolence. That is all I wanted to say. Thank you, Your Majesty. I shall take my leave," she declared, turning to depart.

The King raised his gaze, a quizzical brow forming as he observed the princess's departure. "Did that child never once raise her head?" he inquired.

Little did he know that would be the last time his daughter would ask for his help.

In a room adorned with rich hues of red, an air of opulence enveloped every corner. Ingrid stood nervously, her nails pressing into her skin as she tried to appear calm.

Seated on an elegant sofa, a striking woman commanded attention. Her dress seamlessly blended black and green, resonating with the regal atmosphere. Despite her dark attire, her eyes were a soft shade of blue, reminiscent of a tranquil sky, and her silver hair shimmered like moonlight. In Ingrid's gaze, she appeared hauntingly beautiful, like the tales of evil fairies from Mount Karvar.

That woman was her mother.

"I heard you went to the King's office. What transpired?" Queen Thalia's voice was as soft as a gentle breeze. Her eyes conveyed warmth, resembling those of a loving mother. To an outsider, it might seem as if the queen cherished her daughter deeply. However, that particular gaze instilled the most fear in Ingrid.

"I... only requested permission for a tutor to teach me painting, Your Majesty," Ingrid replied. As she continued, she could feel her heart racing. "His Majesty told me to ask you instead," she added.

"Painting? Haven't I instructed you to abandon such a frivolous pursuit?" Queen Thalia's voice retained its softness, yet there was an undertone that made Ingrid flinch. "Do you believe that receiving praise implies genuine skill? Don't you think that they may have only praised you because of your royal status?"

Ingrid's nails dug into her skin once more as she grappled with a response. "T-that's true. I do not think I... am talented, but I found art to be an intriguing sub--"

"I wasn't even educated in the arts, yet I ascended to the throne. Why should you bother learning it? Your future lies in marriage to another aristocrat or tribal prince. A woman's role is primarily to bear children," the Queen interjected, cutting her off.

"Her Majesty is right. But I really... want to learn," Ingrid pondered. Gathering her courage, she swallowed hard and raised her head.

"Mother, I..." Ingrid's words faltered as she noticed the intensity in the Queen's eyes. Through the lens of her youthful perception, those eyes seemed widened, almost bulging, with pupils constricted and seemingly quivering.

"Oh, no. The evil fairies are taking over Her Majesty again," Ingrid thought. Her heart raced, its frenzied beats resonating in the chambers of her chest.

"Ingrid, come," the Queen remarked with a smile, her tone hauntingly soft, yet her eyes were wide and trembling.

Ingrid hesitated, taking a step back, as the Queen extended her hand.

"No, I don't want to," Ingrid thought. "The evil fairies always tell mother to hurt me."

"Ingrid, what's going through your mind?" the Queen inquired, her smile fading. "Were you harboring negative thoughts about me?"

The Queen stood up from her seat. She was a tall woman, yet she still wore high heeled shoes.

Ingrid stared at her mother with wide eyes. "N-no, mother, I-- ah!"

"You dare address me as mother?" the Queen demanded, grabbing Ingrid's arm. "You deliberately disobeyed me. Do you believe you deserve the title of my daughter? You were aware your action would displease me. Clearly, your intention was to wound my feelings."

"No, I-I didn't want to hurt your feelings," Ingrid replied, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I gave birth to you. I bestowed upon you even that beauty you have. Were you attempting to outshine me? You're still so young, and yet, you harbor such thoughts?" the Queen uttered, her face twisted in a pained expression.

"No, no! I never meant to do that!" Ingrid protested, tears streaming down her face.

The Queen released Ingrid's arm. "If this is your desire, then I will obliterate my beauty," she declared, picking up a table knife. "Watch. You've forced me into this, Ingrid. All because you are an evil child."

Uttering those words, the queen sliced her arm, blood dripping from the knife. While it wasn't a fatal wound, it appeared grave through a child's eyes.

"No! Your Majesty, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't disobey you again," Ingrid cried, tears streaming down her face. "Someone, please, save Her Majesty!"

The commotion finally caught the attention of the maids outside, and they swiftly entered to assist the Queen.

Ingrid, overwhelmed, fainted, her body collapsing to the floor. She was just six years old.