Serena
I stepped into the Valencia boutique and felt that familiar hush settle around me, soft as a sigh. It always felt like entering another world, one where nothing outside existed—only the air, the fabric, the light, and me. I inhaled the subtle scent of lavender mingled with polished wood. It was soothing, yet it sharpened my awareness. Every sound, every movement, every reflection seemed heightened here, as if the boutique demanded precision, demanded presence.
The racks stretched endlessly along the walls, and I allowed my fingers to glide over the fabrics, letting them speak to me. Silk, velvet, chiffon—they each told their own story, whispered promises of power, elegance, subtlety. I paused at a deep emerald gown, letting my hand trace the silver embroidery along the bodice. I imagined myself in it, moving through the Sun Gala. The light would catch the threads just so, the room would pause for a fraction of a second, and I would be remembered. Not just seen. Remembered.
"Would you like to try this one?" the attendant asked softly, careful not to disturb the quiet reverence of the boutique.
I nodded without speaking. My presence was enough.
The fitting room was small, intimate, lined with mirrors that multiplied my image a dozen times over. I closed the door behind me and undressed slowly, deliberately, letting my movements flow with the same precision I used in every decision I made. Slipping into the emerald gown, I felt the fabric cling to me as though it understood the shape of authority. I turned in the mirrors, testing the way it caught the light, how it draped over my shoulders and waist. This gown wasn't just fabric; it was strategy. I could wield it as easily as a blade.
I tried a blush pink gown next, light and delicate. I held it to myself, twisting slightly in the mirror. It was lovely, yes—but it lacked intent. I didn't want softness. I wanted command. Power whispered in the lines of the emerald gown; the pink one barely breathed. I set it back on its hanger with care, making a note in my mind to remember how fragile appearances could sometimes fail you.
Time seemed to stretch, folding in on itself, as I moved from gown to gown. A deep navy caught my attention, its cut daring yet sophisticated. I lifted it, feeling the weight and structure. This was the kind of dress that demanded notice, not by screaming but by the silent assurance it carried. I held it to myself, imagining every possible glance, every subtle observation of the room. I considered the people I would meet at the gala, their likely expressions, their whispers. Every interaction was a chess move, and the way I appeared would determine several of them before I even spoke.
I paused as I noticed a pale silver gown, crystalline threads glimmering faintly. I stepped into it carefully, letting the fabric settle over my form. In the mirror, I saw myself multiplied countless times, each reflection a reminder: I was prepared. I could enter any room, every event, and claim dominance without a single word. I tilted my chin, adjusted my shoulders, and tested the sway of the skirt. Subtlety, precision, grace—every part of me had to convey calculated control.
And yet, even here, even in this sanctuary of fabrics and mirrors, my mind wandered briefly to Xaiden. Not in longing, not in anger—but in awareness. I wondered what he would think if he saw me now. I imagined the slight tightening in his jaw, the way he would appraise every thread as if it were another battlefield. I shook it off. He wasn't here. He wouldn't see. I could not afford distraction—not today, not now. My mind refocused on the skirts, the necklines, the cut of sleeves. Every gown was a decision. Every decision was a statement.
I pictured the Sun Gala in my mind, imagining the chandeliers, the polished floors, the hum of conversation, the subtle angles of light that would reflect off the crystal threads in my hair or the shimmer of a gown. Every glance would matter. Every word unspoken would matter. And I would use them all to my advantage. I considered who might watch me—council members, rivals, old acquaintances—and calculated the subtle expressions I might provoke. Some would be impressed, some jealous, some fearful. And that fear, quiet as it might be, was a tool I could use.
Finally, I selected three gowns. Each carried its own power, its own intent. One would charm, one would command, one would intimidate. I instructed the attendants carefully, ensuring every detail—folds, buttons, clasps—was perfect. Precision was everything. I didn't rush; I never rushed. Every movement, every gesture, every breath was measured.
When I stepped back into the sunlight, the streets seemed sharper, more defined, almost pliable beneath my gaze. The boutique had not merely dressed me—it had reminded me that control could be worn, displayed, felt. Tomorrow, at the Sun Gala, I would enter fully armed—not with weapons or shields, but with presence, poise, and deliberate elegance.
Even as I walked, I felt the whisper of silk in my memory, the faint glimmer of silver threads lingering in my mind. Control isn't always taken in battle; sometimes it is carried, displayed, and breathed. And I intend to wield it flawlessly.
I turned my head only to catch Xaiden Dilph in my vision, I gave him a neutral expression.
As I thought, since when did he started to like dressing up for galas, as a kid he would say looking simple is the best.
Than again, he wasn't a kid and kid brutally killed my family, he wasn't the same, he couldn't be.
My eyes widen as he ruffled a commoner kid's hair and bought him a loaf of bread to eat only to be circled by the kid's friends and buy each one of them too. The scene was too warm, as if he wasn't the one who killed my family, took my home, made my childhood hell.
I don't want him alive.
These kind of people, who give a generous expression to others only to betray them?
I swear revenge,
Not today, but someday,
Soon.
Just as I was about to leave, a kid tugged at my skirt,
"My lady, please join us"
"I'm pleased to be invited, but I have some work home"
Other kid asked" But, Your highness, you played with us once"
I wanted to groan, when Xaiden asked
"Did she?"
A girl named Amelia said" She did, she even taught us a new game!"
The kid said as if I told how the most precious secret of the universe.
Please don't explain it, I begged in my own mind
"we have to turn statue when a kid at den would turn back after counting to ten" said a kid
Xaiden said" I know this one too"
Of course he did, he was the one who introduced it to me and Ralph as kids, we used to play it all the time.
"Darling, now that, he knows how to play, please enjoy it with him, I suppose I'm getting late for home"
Another kid said" yeah, getting home late is not nice, my mother always scolds me, does your's too?"
Hmm, when was the last time she did?,
**A day before my mom died,
Me and Ralph were playing, catch.
I jumped into a muddy puddle and got dirt all on my dress,
She, Isabella Hawton, my mother scolded me " you're a women, you should act like one, you're fourteen already, ser, oh dear now we'll have to get you change into another" she spoke softly even as she scolded me, she loved me.
There joined my dad, Grindolff Hawton" oh bell, a bit of dirt can not change our dear responsible princess into a rebel, can it?" he said as he tickled me while Ralph ate another one of those extra-sugared cookies, and mother gave him an earful too.
It was spring, my mother's favourite season.
She smiled as she wiped the mud off my cheek with my favourite green-handkerchief. It was my favourite because my brother, Ralph gifted it to me and it was green, my favourite color.
"Mother, where is Xaiden?" Ralph asked, I was waiting for him too, so we could play the game he introduced. Clueless to what Xaiden was going to do.
It was the best.**
A tear found it's way, out of my eye.
Xaiden's eyes, darkened" are you..."
"you don't deserve to say it," when Amelia hugged my legs, I ruffled her hair and than walked away.
Now I was conflicted whether to have a war or look how to find peace, I don't want these kids to suffer from what I did either.
Mother, Father, Ralph, I whispered so no one could hear it.
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