𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦 | 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

05 | A Noblewoman's Escape

D-10

[NAME] LUCIFELA VI LIEHELM OBELIA. Her full, legal name; her name. The name bestowed upon her being by her parents. The name that has served as a flickering flame of hope to her succession to the throne—the name that solidified her power, her authority, and her royal bloodline. The one thing she had that the Emperor had allowed her to keep that day, up until this day, but perhaps not into the future.

Nonetheless, even if it lands her in her death bed, she will keep her name. From this day on until the day she's crowned Emperor. She is a Liehelm, after all, and Liehelms are very protective of what belongs to them.

But that very same name had been dragged through the mud by a wasteful, vile man who sits before her now with a machiavellian grin that played on his face. An ignorant man.

She bares her teeth, neglecting her royal manners as the magic knotted deep within her comes seeping through the cracks, her bloodlust easy to detect, and even easier to make one quiver in fear. Seille could only hide his fear behind his mask of arrogance, but nothing remains hidden forever. And [Name] knows that.

"The name I was given, the one that I own—" She gives a pointed stare, annoyed. "You have no right to it."

Exhausted by the steady flowing crowd of nobles swearing their loyalty to the first princess, their adulation evident in their tones, Seille took it upon himself to sequester the princess to a life of imprisonment; taking her precious name from her clammy grasps, and her freedom along with it.

[Name] would not see the light of the sun anymore longer. She would no longer feel the warmth of the morning light upon her skin, feel the gentle breeze of the summer as it blew past her face.

Because [Name] would be no more.

She would become Lilia, the slave of the slums chained to the high towers after her insolent actions greatly offended the Empress. A woman who had supposedly killed the first princess, and would die for her mistake – at least, to the rest of the Empire, the story will be engrained in their heads, their hearts feeling sorrow for the fallen princess who has died so shortly after her debutante.

But Lilia's death would be a fake; her punishment is taken by a lowly servant, who sacrifices her life for the princess, and [Name] will watch as they take her head from her shoulders. Tortured, beaten, defeated.

"I have every right to it."

His voice, honeyed and almost raised, echoes in the silence of his throne room. [Name]'s eyes crinkle in disgust, glittering in pure hatred, the gold of the chandelier lights reflecting in her green hues.

The schadenfreude bubbles in his stomach, and he knows he's gotten under her skin—his heart thumps quickly, noting how green her eyes have become in thanks to his magic. A familiar, moss green color, gleaming gently to cover the true shade of her eyes.

Just like your mother.

He could feel his heart thump more erratically than before, the thought of the late Duchess filling his head as he grins even more, fueling the disgust written over her face.

"You took away the only memory I had of my father," [Name] spat out, her anger growing as the high-level mana circles begin to fade with the strength of her own. "And now you wish to take away my identity in itself."

In Kalor, your name is your identity—your sacred possession that must never be taken from you. Taking away one's name means that they no longer exist; that they are long gone, and must never be remembered. Names are what ties you to your heritage, your power.

[Name]'s cape flares out as she strides forward daringly, and rises up to the dais where the Emperor's cumbersome throne squatted upon it, his eyes flickering a familiar blue hue that [Name] so deeply despised.

Because his eyes were the color of Aeron's too—a brother to her, one she held close to her heart.

His silver hair glistened under the golden lights of the wall sconces, quelling any sort of anger [Name] felt for him that day—her clenched fists loosened, blood drawn from her palm as her nails dug into her flesh. Her shoulders shook with uncertainty, her eyes clouded with disappointment.

She could never be mad at him, no. Not when he looked like Aeron.

And Seille knew of that.

He loved to aggravate her this way, aware that his actions would face no consequences for his son – a pure, kind soul who resembled him from head to toe – was a man who had charmed his way into her heart, unaware of the conflict that brew within the palace walls, innocently basking in the light.

[Name] loathed it.

xxx

It was only thanks to Aeron, who had barged into the throne room so enthusiastically, that the tense atmosphere had been replaced with an air of joy, one a family would have. His obliviousness to [Name]'s anger only forced her to will it down, not wanting to ruin his lovely blabbering, and Seille genuinely enjoyed the presence of his one and only son.

Only Ophelia was lacking in this picture-perfect moment—with a caring father, a bubbly son, and a sympathetic daughter. A picturesque scene to see, truly, but only two knew of the storm brewing fast and strong under the surface of perfection, waiting and lurking in the darkest of shadows, waiting for the right moment to burst like a volcano, spouting fire from its depths, burning those that stand in its way of freedom.

"I will not remain here."

Time ticks off the clock with impatience, [Name]'s patience thinning as the sun's rays shone upon her icy nature and melted it down into blobs of water, flowing through the green grass. She will be freed of these chains that bind her to the wretched ground, tying her to the despair that spreads its wings and begins to consume her inwardly.

Nothing ever lasts forever, after all.

And [Name] will not subject to a life of misery after what they have done to her family.

Nitimur in vetitum
"We strive for the forbidden"