To Be Your Perfect Duchess

Prologue

The grand hall of House Alveria stood silent, its vast emptiness echoing the solitude that Duchess Freya del Alveria felt within. Ornate tapestries adorned the stone walls, depicting scenes of legendary heroes and epic battles, yet their vibrant colors seemed muted in the dim light of dusk. Freya stood at the tall window, her fingers lightly grazing the cold glass as she looked out at the sprawling gardens below, now shrouded in the purple hues of twilight

Why does everyone yearn for love?

She pondered, her breath fogging the windowpane. Though it might be biased to say that everyone desires it, she did not. Love seemed a foreign concept to her, something she observed from afar with detached curiosity. She had seen lovers in the gardens, their fingers intertwined, their faces alight with bashful smiles. To Freya, it was only a mere touch, nothing more.

She turned away from the window, the heavy silk of her gown whispering against the polished floor. Her footsteps were the only sound in the cavernous room. Even the most passionate kisses, those described in fairytales as ethereal, seemed empty to her.

What is ethereal about that? She thought, her lips curling in a faint, humorless smile. The notion that love connected souls through understanding seemed laughable. If only there were proof of souls and destiny. For Freya, there was only the body and consciousness.

A body that felt the shivering air of silent, lonely evenings and the merciless wrath of midday heat. A body that heard the endless squabbles of the court and saw the grey world she inhabited. She spoke words that contrasted sharply with her inner being, words crafted to meet others’ expectations and avoid the madness of breaking free from her shackles.

Freya crossed the hall to a grand mirror, her reflection staring back at her. The perfect image of a noblewoman: poised, elegant, and untouchable. She lived to fulfill the roles imposed upon her, yet her consciousness was acutely aware of the consequences of her actions. Choosing her desires would be selfish, she believed. She felt no remorse living like this. All she wanted was a purpose—to use her abilities to help those she held dear.

For Duchess Freya del Alveria, fulfilling her role perfectly was her greatest desire. She would sacrifice anything to bring glory back to House Alveria, even if it meant burying her own needs and emotions deep within. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and when she opened them again, the determination in her gaze was unyielding.