*Julia*
Julia noted that the Rose Room, where her mistress and Queen Hildenberg decided to take tea, was beautiful today. It was warm, light, and delicate, with the scent of early winter blooms. Sunlight spilled through wide-paned windows, trimmed with flowy curtains, framed the snowy hedges below like a scene from another world—cold and still, yet beautiful in its own way. A round table sat like a centerpiece in a painting, dressed in white linen and crowned with fresh-cut roses, gleaming beneath the soft gold of the chandelier. Tea steamed from the spout of a porcelain pot, surrounded by dainty cups, sugared pastries, and an untouched bowl of strawberries.
The room felt suspended in a hush, as if it too were holding its breath under the weight of unspoken tensions, savoring what Julia knew was merely an illusion of peace rather than its reality.
Julia shifted at her spot by the hearth, half-shadowed by its flickering warmth and the silvery light from the windows. Her hands were folded neatly before her apron, a proper maid as always, but underneath the disguise of work, her eyes never left the Queen. Always alert to any whim of need or flinch of discomfort, she would swoop in to her mistress's side.
But today, the stillness seemed to stretch deeper into her mistress's shoulders, a forced relaxation that only Julia would recognize. She saw it in the too-perfect curl of Belinda's lips as she lifted her teacup with calculated grace, the porcelain making the faintest clink against its saucer. The Queen was in good spirits again—or rather, performing good spirits with the mastery of a seasoned actress.
Belinda was smiling. Laughing.
That laugh again—For the past three days, Julia had heard it too often lately. Soft, airy, charming. A sound that wanted to be believed. Carefully arranged. Just like Her Majesty.
Belinda's face was again crafted with beautiful purpose, her complexion enhanced with rice powder that disguised the pallor of sleepless nights, rouge applied with precision to simulate the flush of contentment rather than the hectic spots of grief. The hidden note of wine that Julia could detect beneath her rose-water breath was masked under layers of peppermint—the same peppermint leaves Julia had secretly steeped that morning knowing they would be needed to cover the scent of Belinda's private morning consolation from the crystal decanter.
No, to everyone else, it was all a performance of normalcy, of royal composure.
Even her costume was appropriate for this carefully directed scene, but Julia noted with a pang the measures her lady took to manipulate her own appearance. Her Majesty had dressed in a lavish blue and gold gown, the bodice so tightly laced that Julia had seen the red marks it left on Belinda's skin when helping her dress—physical discomfort embraced for the sake of a flawless silhouette. Elaborate beading caught the light with each breath, drawing attention to the controlled rise and fall of her chest. Her skirt was full, rustling with secrets as she shifted, and she complemented it with her favorite white gloves—the ones that hid the tremor in her fingers that had developed in recent months—and ornate gold chains that Julia had polished to gleaming perfection at dawn.
She dressed in full regal attire, putting on more effort than before, fitting her act with the dedication of a woman building battlements around her heart.
And when she had requested tea in the Rose Room that morning, her voice carrying the slightest edge of determination, Julia knew exactly what she was doing. She was pretending. Distracting herself as much as she was entertaining the giant in a ploy that screamed silently: nothing was wrong. Nothing to see. All was well in the kingdom and in her heart. Julia had seen this pattern before—the grander the performance, the deeper the wound being concealed.
She poured tea with a practiced grace, her sleeves falling just right over her wrists, every movement elegant. Her gaze never left Queen Hildenberg, not even glancing at the pastries she barely touched—pastries Julia had watched her request specifically from the kitchen, though she knew her mistress had lost her appetite for sweets weeks ago. Her attention, charm, and every pretty word were all fixed on the blonde giant seated across from her, as if she were entertaining royalty of the highest order, as if this girl were worthy of such devoted attention.
Well. She was. Royal, anyway.
However, Julia didn't think so. She was well past trying to find any redeeming quality to the brutish and belligerent giant queen. Her mind was already made up that she didn't think the girl was worth it, let alone the effort.
But it was clear Belinda—for reasons Julia respected but could not fathom, did. Julia's gaze flicked once to the chandelier, then to the Queen's delicate smile. Perfect as always, as she pressed on, acting the ever-dutiful mother-in-law, crooning over Hidi's stories, flattering her with. She was all but fawning over her like the girl had grown from her own womb.
The sight made Julia's jaw ache.
But if this was what Belinda wanted—Julia held her tongue. Resigned, but vigilant. Her loyalty ran deeper than her distaste, carved into her bones over years of service and shared secrets.
Whatever Belinda wanted, Julia would want for her as well. She would support. She would enable. She would protect. She would lie if needed, steal if required, even kill if it became necessary—all for the woman who had lifted her from nothing and given her purpose.
Even if the giant was severely lacking in anything a Queen ought to be.
Her mother was at least a bit more graceful. Julia tutted softly to herself.
Unlike her mistress, Queen Hildenberg didn't even know how to be elegant–her laugh was too loud, her movements too bold, as if she'd never learned to soften her presence. Her golden braid shimmered like a gaudy banner as she leaned forward, nearly upsetting the arrangement of spoons Julia had aligned with mathematical precision. Her heels crossed under her chair without shame, taking up too much space, like she had no concept of others and their needs, no delicacy or consideration for the ancient rugs beneath her, ripping it up with every stroke of that heel.
Julia shifted her gaze then to find, with a start, the giant's eyes meeting hers by accident. A quick flash of surprise ran across the old maid's face, a crack in her usual mask, not thinking she'd be caught in her assessment. But just as quickly, years of training took over, and she hid her distaste with a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes, a servant's smile that said nothing while concealing everything.
The giant only smirked after her, a knowing twist of lips that sent a chill down Julia's spine, before returning her attention to Belinda. But not before her peridot eyes narrowed briefly, sharp as cat's claws, as if she had indeed caught Julia in the act of her silent judgment.
A low laugh skipped from her lips, darkly as she moved to take another sip. The sound made Julia stiffen on instinct, muscles coiling tight beneath her severe black dress. She did see it. She knew.
Julia straightened, breathing slowly. But if she felt any fear at being caught for her slip-up, she would not give her the satisfaction. As long as Belinda didn't notice, everything was fine. That was all that mattered. And Julia had to act her part, just as her mistress was acting hers.
The perfect maid, for the perfect Lady. A shadow that anticipated every need, a hand that moved every piece on Belinda's chessboard without being asked.
She felt the giant queen's stare linger—just a breath too long. Like pressure behind the eyes, a silent dare, a predator's assessment.
Was she waiting for her to twitch? To blush? To crack under the weight of that knowing gaze?
But Julia didn't flinch. Her loyalty to Belinda was a fortress, impenetrable even to the most perceptive observer. She had weathered far worse storms at her lady's side than the disdain of an overgrown girl playing at royalty.
"I do so enjoy having tea with you, Mother." Her voice lilted upward, sweet and golden, pouring affection back onto Belinda like warm syrup. "But I need to return," she sighed, like she hated the thought, like parting was such sweet sorrow.
But just as quickly, her lips stretched into a wide smile to show all her blunt white teeth.
Her voice practically purred as pink as her cheeks as she added with a flourish of her lashes. "I have plans with Nicoli."
This immediately set Belinda up in her chair with delight." A date?"
Her painted lips curled into a delightfully surprised smile. "How delightful." Her voice held a warmth stronger than even the fire roaring in the hearth could do. Each word beamed with pride and support. "I must say, you two have progressed quite quickly in such a short time."
Belinda patted her lips gently with a napkin before motioning for Julia. The woman immediately moved to pick up Hidi's empty cup, clearing her placesetting for the tray.
"Ja, well," Hidi didn't fake being demure or bashful in her achievement. Her voice lifted as she rose to her full height on her heels to tower over them both. What can I say? I'm a woman who gets what she wants." And she touched the opal broach pinned to hold together her collar in a show of accomplishment.
"I do only have ten years to win his heart, after all." She beamed before turning to whip her braid directly into Julia's face. The action made the old maid nearly fall over in the process.
Julia reeled, fury snapping through her limbs. That wasn't an accident. She knew it the same way she knew that damn giant had been watching her—waiting for her to slip again. Julia clenched her jaw, took the tray with rigid fingers, and stepped back. Her eyes stayed forward, refusing to meet Hidi's smug glance. She would not give the girl the satisfaction. She would not stoop to that level.
Such a petty thing. Belinda must have seen it, surely she—
Her gaze flicked to the queen, but Belinda remained serene, utterly unbothered, as if nothing had happened. No flicker of annoyance. No gentle correction. Nothing. The sight carved a slow, cold curl deep into Julia's gut, something sharp and shameful like betrayal.
But she shoved the feeling down with practiced discipline. Almost ashamed of herself that she even felt such doubt?
No, Belinda was above such things, Julia reminded herself fiercely. Her queen was looking at the bigger picture—always. Of course she wouldn't waste precious energy fussing over a childish flick of hair when the future of the kingdom hung in the balance. Belinda was thinking ahead, considering Hidi's marriage to Nicoli, the implications for Dawny's future. Nothing more.
What was a moment's discomfort against such weighty matters, anyway?
Belinda must have thought it was an accident. And Julia would rather cut out her own tongue than undermine her queen with petty complaints about a child's actions. Thirty-three years of loyal service had taught her when to speak and when to hold her peace. She set the tray down with a soft clatter, smoothing the tremor in her hands as Hidi's voice carried on behind her, unbothered again.
"Nicoli is going to play chess with me," Hidi informed. "I don't wish to keep him waiting any longer."
Belinda's eyes brightened. "Oh, how nice."
"With the new board, Ana got him." Hidi on went easily. "He really wants to use it."
"That," Belinda's smile stilled as she glanced at Julia knowingly. The maid, in turn, had stiffened, her spine going straight as a sword. The silent message passed between them like a current—understood immediately by two women who had shared countless secrets over countless years. The chest board had already been "taken care of."
A quick flinch of a relieved smile danced across Belinda's face before she hid it carefully under her trained mask. "I'm sorry, my dear. I don't think that will be possible. It has already been put in storage for safekeeping."
"Already?" Hidi blinked.
"Diplomatic reasons, you understand." Belinda lied easily through her perfect smile. "Can't have anything happen to it and cause a misunderstanding, do we? You understand these things. Nochten is such a…touchy little empire." Belinda's lips twitched a little at the words.
"Ah, I suppose so." Hidi sighed but seemed to accept it, not seeing any other reason. She let it go. "Nicoli will be upset, though. He mentioned something about things disappearing."
"Disappearing?" Belinda stiffened in her chair. Hidi shrugged.
"Yes, something about Ana's things. But I'm sure he just misplaces them." She went casually, waving a dismissive hand before turning to leave the room with her head high. "We will just use another board then. It all plays the same."
Hidi leaned down to kiss Belinda on one cheek, then the other.
"Anyways, I'll get going. Goodbye, Mother." Hidi leaned down so Belinda could return the gesture.
"Goodbye, daughter," Belinda pulled back to see a faint stain of lips on Hidi's cheek.
"I will see you at lunch. Have fun."
"We shall," Hidi smiled, turning on her heel to click across the wooden floor, again snapping her braid right in front of Julia's face, missing her this time, but just barely.
This time, Julia couldn't hide the scowl pulling at her lips as the giant passed. The heady scent of Hidi's perfume lingered in her wake, cloying and intrusive like the girl herself. Julia's fingers itched to grab that swinging braid and yank—hard.
Instead, she channeled years of discipline, drawing in a deep breath that scraped against her throat. It took every ounce of her considerable self-control to pull her face back to impassivity as she hurried to close the door behind the giant, the heavy wood meeting the frame with a satisfying thunk that sealed Hidi out. A secret flutter of relief washed through her, cool as spring water.
Good riddins. Julia exhaled a bit too loudly to make the younger woman behind her let out a soft laugh that rippled through the suddenly quiet room.
"You are not fond of her majesty very much, are you, Julia?" Belinda's grey eyes held a rare gleam of amusement as she looked over the maid. Julia stiffened, heat rising to her cheeks. She found herself smoothing her apron with trembling fingers, the crisp fabric crackling under her touch, giving her a precious moment to gather her thoughts like scattered pearls.
She knew full well that she couldn't give an honest opinion.
Julia had been with her too long, seen to many maids up and disappear like Nicoli's chest board, to know better and make that mistake.Belinda didn't want honesty; she needed loyalty. And for thirty years, Julia had given it without question, without hesitation, without regret. Her devotion ran deeper than any river, steadier than any mountain. She would rather die before betraying Belinda's trust.
"If she is who her Majesty wants," Julia merely replied as Belinda rose from her chair.
"She is." Belinda didn't even hesitate, already walking over to the window, her silk skirts whispering against the floor. "Hidi and Nicoli's marriage is Dawny's future. And I will have nothing disrupt it. Even if Alexander wants to…" Belinda's voice fell away as if suddenly realizing what she had been trying to forget.
The crackling of the fire filled the once-happy space, now turning somber as soon as the giant was gone. The need to act the perfect queen was over. Julia could see that careful mask of hers fall away in the moment, crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide. Belinda's grey eyes darkened to a muddy shadow, like snow stained with too many footprints. Crumbled and ruined.
The silence stretched a moment longer as Belinda stared out the glass. Snow blanketed the gardens, hiding the hedge maze in clean white lines. But the sound of children's laughter could be heard from below, high and bright, cutting through the winter stillness. One laugh Julia could distinguish instantly, having heard it for all ten years of his life, having watched it bloom from infant coos to boyish shouts. Nicoli was among the children, playing in the snow.
Without a word, Julia moved to join her queen's side, her footsteps silent on the thick carpet. Her presence created a slight reprieve from the darkness in the younger woman's expression, like a single candle lit against encroaching night. But just barely. Her eyes were focused on the sight of her son gathering snow below, his small figure bundled against the cold, unaware of the undercurrent lying in his very home.
"He's noticed, then." Belinda's voice came out, breaking the silence at last. Her words carried a note of wariness, tinged with guilt—not for taking Ana's gifts, of course not, but for Nicoli's awareness of their disappearance. Her fingers moved to her wedding ring, twisting it absently, that hollow piece of gold she wore only for appearances now.
"The prince has always been a perceptive boy, your majesty. He was going to notice at some point." Julia tried to console Belinda, but her lips only thinned again, showing her own guilt at having caused her son any discomfort.
"It's not right to have him in the middle of all this," she voiced quietly, gaze never leaving her son below.
Julia tracked the flash of yellow that bounded across the snow-covered garden. Hidi had found him, her bright form unmistakable even from this distance. They exchanged briefly, their voices unreachable from this height, but if she had to guess, it was likely about the board. Because Julia could see the prince's shoulders slump momentarily at whatever news Hidi delivered.
But if he was upset, he quickly pulled himself back up. The slump vanished, replaced by a straightening spine and a lifted chin. A smile appeared on his face so quickly, so seamlessly, that anyone else might have missed the transformation.
That smile—It struck Julia then, a cold realization washing over her like ice water.
That smile mirrored his parents' perfectly. The same careful arrangement of features, the same calculated warmth that never quite reached the eyes. At ten years old, Nicoli was already learning to perform, to push his true feelings behind a mask of royal composure.
Something about that left an unknown impression on Julia. It made her wonder if there was much more the boy knew.
Did he know? Was that why he was hesitant to be around the king now?
Since that awkward welcome, Julia could notice something had changed in the prince. The usually bright and efficacious boy was rather standoffish nowadays, or rather, it was toward his father.
Instead of running to Alexander with open arms and excited chatter as he once had, Nicoli's interactions with him felt strained, calculated. Almost hesitant, as if he were testing each step before committing his weight.
Belinda had yet to comment on it herself, but Julia had eyes sharpened by decades of service. And she'd been watching.
She had been around the boy his whole life, witnessing his first steps, his first words, his first day of lessons. She knew every expression that had ever crossed his face, every laugh, every tantrum, every quiet moment of contemplation. This distance he maintained now—this was different. It was like he was building a wall between himself and Alexander, brick by careful brick.
Was this because he somehow sensed his father's betrayal? Had he overheard something, glimpsed something that revealed how Alexander had devastated Belinda with his infidelity? His abandoning them for his other child?
Or was this simply something else? Just a boy growing up, becoming aware of the complexities of royal life?
Julia couldn't say for certain. But whether he knew or not, the result was the same: Alexander would suffer the slow, agonizing loss of his son's unconditional love and trust. And some dark, vengeful part of Julia's heart—the part that had witnessed her proud queen break down in bitter tears in the dead of night—couldn't help but feel a bitter satisfaction at the justice of it all.
Because this was his fault.
The king had made his choice. And there were to be consequences. Consequences that he had yet to realize would only grow with time, branching out like cracks in ice, touching every relationship, every bond, every alliance.
Alexander would suffer and suffer still for picking her against them.
Julia realized this truth with crystalline clarity when she heard the sharp knock on the servant's door, the sound cutting through her thoughts like a blade.
Belinda did not react as Julia left her side to answer. The floorboards whispered beneath her feet as she crossed to the smaller door nestled in the corner of the room. She quickly exchanged hushed words with a young maid whose eyes darted nervously past Julia's shoulder toward the queen, and took up the letters before hurrying back, her heart quickening with anticipation.
"Your majesty," Julia lifted the letters intercepted. "There is another one."
"Admiral Nugen, hmm?" Belinda barely flicked her eye over the terrible script written on the envelope. A low scuff filled the room as she shifted her weight. She did not move to touch it, as if the paper itself might be tainted. But her eyes lifted to the other letter with a slight pause, interest kindling in her gaze.
This one had better handwriting and rich stationery—thick cream paper with a subtle watermark visible when tilted to the light—notes of someone in nobility, perhaps. The name read Pendwick Celbest in elegant, flowing script.
It was likely some Nochten Noble, Julia assumed, but regardless, neither woman was about to figure it out. They knew better than to tamper with the king's mail.
Tamper, no, but what about reach its intended recipient? Well…
Ever since Alexander sent Johan to sniff around about the forgery, all of which went nowhere, Belnda had been more careful with the letters. Their tactics had to change to something less…invasive.
These tactics were going well so far. The new approach was subtle, a sleight of hand so clean that even clever Johan hadn't noticed. Not yet, anyway.
But he would. Julia knew this wouldn't last. Sooner or later, someone would ask why there hadn't been a single response from Nochten. Why the silence stretched so long.
But for now…
"Shall I put these with the others, your majesty?" Julia asked, her voice smooth. She watched Belinda's mouth curl—not into warmth, but a smile brittle and sharp as the ice-laced branches outside the window.
"The others, Julia? I don't know what you're talking about."Belinda feigned innocence, eyes widening with practiced bewilderment."Why, what do you mean Alexander's letters have been mixed up with my own? I get so much mail of my own. How was I ever to know?"
Julia only smiled in return, though something in her chest pulled taut—a thin thread of unease that she couldn't quite name. She gathered the letters to her chest, as if shielding them from prying eyes.
"You do get many letters," she murmured, fingers tucking the missives carefully among the ornate invitations and noble correspondence stacked atop Belinda's study desk. Buried, but not destroyed. Forgotten—until she 'happened' to discover them. Much, much later.
"Gosh," Belinda feigned remorse, touching her cheek with delicate fingers, the perfect picture of regretful surprise. "I hope they weren't very urgent."
"Who can say, Your Majesty?" Julia said lightly, turning with the letters in hand. She gave a slight bow. "I suppose His Majesty will simply have to wait and see when he gets them."
Julia closed the door behind Belinda, the heavy wood sealing with a soft click as she heard laughter spill from behind it—a sound once bright and bell-like, now edged with something darker. Her hands tightened around the letters, the edges digging into her palms as she stood alone in the corridor.
For a moment—brief but unmistakable, doubt flickered through her. A chill that had nothing to do with the winter air slipped down her spine as she stared at the envelopes in her grasp. Was this truly helping? Belinda was in pain, yes, wounded beyond measure by Alexander's betrayal. Julia didn't have an issue with getting back at him.
She'd be glad to do even more if it meant causing him the same ounce of pain her Lady felt.
But how would this help Belinda until it started hurting her?
Julia felt her chest tighten at the thought, a pressure behind her ribs that made it hard to breathe. She had served Belinda for decades, had loved her like a daughter. But Belinda could be capable of unspeakable cruelty if pushed too far. Julia knew that all too well. And such anger, such malice, could take shape.
A certain blue box of tea drifted over the back of Julia's mind.
Would there come a time where Belinda might ask for too much? Where she might cross a boundary that even Julia, with all her loyalty, could not follow her across?
Like using the tea again…
No. What Belinda wants is what I want. Julia smothered the voice, just as she always had, stamping it down with the heel of her devotion. What right did she have to question? She was a servant—nothing more. Her place was beside her queen, hands ready to catch whatever fell from royal fingers.
If Belinda ordered the sky torn down, Julia would find a ladder tall enough to reach it.
She only ever cared for Belinda. If that cost her what remained of her conscience, then so be it.
What Belinda wanted, Julia would do. Without question. Without hesitation.
This was the right thing to do. It had to be the right thing.
For Belinda.
There had to be consequences.
The letters felt heavier in her hands than they should, like stones instead of paper, as she turned, whisking herself down the quiet and cold halls alone.