The Throne Of Ivory

The trembling Past that's lasts.

Chapter 2
章 二

"I think I need someone older..."

In the eerie corridors of Vesper's mind, shadows danced like phantoms from a forgotten era. She was a solitary figure, shrouded in the remnants of a past that had abandoned her, a princess displaced from her rightful throne. The gilded facade of her adopted royal life concealed the jagged shards of a fractured childhood, a tale veiled in darkness and whispered in hushed tones behind closed palace doors.

Once, Vesper belonged to a lineage draped in regal splendor, but her destiny twisted when her family, consumed by the venomous tendrils of ambition and treachery, cast her aside. The golden threads of her heritage frayed, unraveling amidst the deceitful courtly intrigues. Left adrift in a world that craved power more than compassion, Vesper found refuge in the embrace of a different dynasty-adopted by the royals who ruled with an iron grip, they offered shelter but not solace.

Behind the porcelain mask she wore for the world, Vesper carried the weight of abandonment, a festering wound etched deep into her soul. Her days were cloaked in an ethereal veil of detachment, her laughter a hollow echo of the childhood joys she was denied. The grandeur of the palace halls only magnified the cavernous emptiness within her, a relentless reminder of the love she had lost, the family that had forsaken her.

The nights whispered secrets to Vesper, tales spun from the ink of sorrow and betrayal. In the quietude of moonlit chambers, she wandered through the labyrinth of memories, haunted by visions of a past stained with betrayal's crimson hue. Her heart bore scars unseen, lacerated by the callousness of those she once called kin. Dark whispers followed her, an incessant murmur of questions unanswered, aching for closure amidst the tapestry of lies that enveloped her existence.

Vesper sought solace in the depths of literature steeped in shadows, finding companionship among the tormented protagonists and tragic heroines. She was drawn to the macabre beauty of dark literature, finding echoes of her own fragmented narrative in the desolate landscapes and haunted characters. The tales of loss, of shattered identities, mirrored the shards of her own fractured self, offering a haunting kinship that both comforted and tormented her restless spirit.

Her existence became an enigma, veiled in a facade of poise and regality, yet tinged with the melancholic hues of a forsaken past. Behind the opulent facade of the palace, Vesper dwelled in a sepulchral solitude, navigating the treacherous currents of courtly machinations with a silent resolve. Her eyes, pools of sapphire veiled in a veil of sorrow, concealed the tempest raging within-a tempest fueled by the betrayal of those who should have offered sanctuary.

In the silent hours, when the moon cast its ethereal glow upon the world, Vesper's heart, an ancient tome, bore the weight of a history steeped in shadows. She was the princess abandoned, the orphaned heir to a legacy obscured by deceit and abandonment. Her past, a tapestry woven with threads of betrayal and abandonment, bound her to a destiny fraught with the echoes of a darkness she could never truly escape.

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Amidst the opulence of the grand estate, where the whispered echoes of a bygone era wove their silken tapestry, Vesper found herself ensnared by an emotion she dared not name. Her thoughts, akin to fluttering moths drawn to the flickering flame, invariably circled around Thorton, the noble scion of the estate, in a dance of longing and restraint.

In the ornate chambers, adorned with tapestries depicting chivalric valor and romanticized tales of yore, Vesper retreated into the recesses of her mind, where her heart's secrets lay concealed. Thorton, with his august countenance and a demeanor steeped in genteel grace, had unwittingly become the lodestar of her affections. She, the adopted princess shrouded in the veils of a forlorn past, found solace in the mere thought of him.