EloraCollins2012
Zirelle was born under tragedy and moonlight. Four months after High Consort Lihua lost her firstborn son-a death that left her broken and silent-she gave birth to Zirelle, her second child. A daughter. Though the Emperor had many daughters and no sons yet, she was different from the beginning.
Lihua had been poisoned while Zirelle was still in her womb. When Zirelle was born, she neither cried nor laughed. For four long months, she simply stared-her small, perfect face emotionless, blank as porcelain. Lihua, now titled Wise Consort and mistress of the grand Crystal Pavilion, feared she would lose Zirelle too.
She held Zirelle constantly, breastfeeding her herself, never trusting a wet nurse. Her noble pride vanished when it came to Zirelle-her only surviving child. She played with her daily, her silks trailing behind her as she knelt on embroidered rugs, rattling lacquered toys and whispering lullabies once meant for her brother. Her ladies in waiting saw her rarely outside the nursery.
Then one night, as silver moonlight poured through the lattice windows of Zirelle's chamber, Lihua sat beside her crib in tears, whispering desperate prayers to the gods. And then-it happened.
Zirelle laughed.