The White Dove

Futile Resistance

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"Madame?"

"It's Empress Dowager to you!", replied the servant before whacking the Princess Consort with a wooden rod.

She cried from the pain which only made the servant smile with glee. Gearing up again, she struck the helpless concubine even harder this time, leading her to suppress a gasp.

Maybe if she stayed silent, the Dowager would lose interest and go away.

After a few moments, she stood up, but the servant pushed her down to the floor yet again.

"Kneel before your queen," related the former Queen to the Eighteen Princess.

The Conqueror's Sister internally bristled, but on the outside, she politely supplicated and offered up a smile of gratitude.

"Thank you for correcting my behavior," she remarked.

"You were in the wrong," admonished the Queen Dowager's servant.

Returning her face to its original position, she surmised that the Queen Dowager held no real power here. The servants only amused her delusions of grandeur, tolerating her presence as the mother of the Fourth Prince. Tucking away the observation, she appeared obedient, offering no resistance for further beatings.

Other servants slowly came out of the shadows, shocked that a noble lady so readily accepted an uncalled for beating.

However, they had no idea what she had planned.

If the former Queen saw fit to these whims, then she would hold onto the person who could protect her the most.

The Fourth Prince, her son.

Back when they laid the Jin Dynasty Emperor to rest, her brother had been worried over the fight between the Sixteenth Prince and the Twenty-First Prince, otherwise known as the Other Prince. Shortly thereafter, he ascended the throne with support from the military, a compromise of sorts that placated both sides at court.

However, only a few knew who arranged the compromise on the throne.

Soon enough, the 'Empress Dowager' would learn not to mess with that person.

Heading back into her quarters, she sighed once she felt that the backside of her top was completely in tatters. She jumped up, startled by a palace lady that let herself into the tiny room. Bowing, the Palace Lady introduced herself and asked permission to apply salve on the wounds.

"I would be most grateful," she politely answered.

Gently tearing off the rest of the clothing at the back, she dipped a wet cloth in liquid and pressed it to her backside.

Refusing to shriek, the Princess stood perfectly still, a doll in concubine's clothing.

"You know, if you want to seek protection from the Dowager, the Fourth Prince is not your best bet," muttered the Palace Lady as she sowed the ripped parts of her tunic back together temporarily. A new tunic would have to be ordered from the seamstresses at the palace, but for now, this would do.

"Oh. Why would you say that?", asked the Princess Consort, mildly curious now.

"I've seen that look in your eye. You may be wanting her comeuppance but be aware it won't come at her son's hands. Only the Masked King dare defy that lady in this palace. He's your best bet," she replied back.

"You're implying I want vengeance?", she mused. Chuckling, she laughed off the accusation.

"I mean no harm. Since childhood, I've been quite good at reading people and think that you're better off not wasting your time with the meek Fourth Prince, instead go straight to the source."