02 | CHAPTER

Chapter 2: Daughter of the King

Sixteen years later...

The morning sun bathed the Kingdom of Valtheria in golden light.

From the highest tower of the royal palace, Princess Elara gazed upon the capital city below.

The streets were already alive with activity.

Merchants arranged colorful goods beneath striped canopies. Blacksmiths hammered glowing steel. Children chased one another through crowded market squares while musicians filled the air with cheerful melodies.

It was a beautiful kingdom.

Her kingdom.

Elara rested her hands on the stone balcony railing and smiled.

"I could stay here forever."

"You say that every morning."

A familiar voice caused her to turn.

Her maid and closest friend, Clara, stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

Elara laughed.

"And every morning, you tell me I have duties."

"Because you do."

Clara stepped onto the balcony carrying a folded royal gown.

"The king is waiting."

Elara groaned dramatically.

"Must I attend every council meeting?"

"You are the Crown Princess."

"Exactly. One day I'll have endless council meetings. Let me enjoy the years before then."

Clara shook her head.

"You're impossible."

"And yet you remain my friend."

"Someone has to keep you from climbing palace roofs."

Elara grinned.

"That happened once."

"It happened three times."

The princess laughed again.

Moments like these were rare.

Away from court politics.

Away from noble expectations.

Away from whispers.

Though most people loved Princess Elara, there were still those who remembered the prophecy spoken on the night of her birth.

The Crimson Prophecy.

Even after sixteen years, it remained a shadow following her wherever she went.

Some believed she would save the kingdom.

Others feared she would destroy it.

Elara preferred not to think about it.

She had spent her entire life hearing stories about a destiny she never asked for.

Today, she simply wanted to enjoy the sunshine.

Unfortunately, duty had other plans.

---

The Great Hall bustled with activity.

Nobles from across Valtheria had gathered to discuss trade agreements, taxes, and preparations for the upcoming Harvest Festival.

At the far end of the chamber sat King Aldric upon his throne.

Though age had added silver strands to his dark hair, he remained a commanding figure.

The moment Elara entered the hall, conversations softened.

Heads turned.

Smiles appeared.

Unlike many royal heirs, Princess Elara was genuinely loved by the people.

Not because she was beautiful—though many claimed she was.

Not because she was destined for greatness.

But because she cared.

She spoke with servants as easily as she spoke with nobles.

She visited orphanages.

She listened to farmers.

She remembered names.

The people saw her not only as a future queen but as one of their own.

"Princess Elara!"

A group of visiting merchants bowed respectfully.

She smiled.

"Good morning."

One elderly merchant stepped forward.

"My granddaughter still keeps the doll Your Highness gave her."

Elara brightened.

"Does she?"

"She treasures it."

The old man's eyes shone with gratitude.

"You made her very happy."

Elara felt warmth spread through her chest.

Those moments meant far more to her than court titles ever could.

King Aldric watched from his throne.

A small smile appeared on his face.

He was proud of his daughter.

Very proud.

Though he rarely said it aloud.

"Elara."

She looked toward him.

The king gestured for her to approach.

When she reached the throne, he lowered his voice.

"You are late."

"Only by a few minutes."

"Twenty-seven."

Elara winced.

"You counted?"

"I am a king."

"That isn't an answer."

King Aldric chuckled.

For a brief moment, he was not the ruler of Valtheria.

He was simply a father.

---

Later that afternoon, Elara escaped the palace.

Not entirely.

She still traveled with guards.

But she preferred visiting the city whenever possible.

The capital felt alive in ways the palace never could.

As she walked through the marketplace, people greeted her warmly.

"Princess Elara!"

"Good afternoon, Your Highness!"

"Blessings upon the royal family!"

She returned every smile.

Every wave.

Every greeting.

Near a bakery, she noticed a small boy staring longingly through the window.

His clothes were worn.

His shoes nearly falling apart.

The baker shooed him away.

"Move along."

The boy lowered his head.

Elara approached.

"Excuse me."

The baker immediately straightened.

"Your Highness!"

She pointed toward the child.

"I'll buy whatever he wants."

The boy's eyes widened.

"Really?"

Elara smiled.

"Really."

Moments later, the child sat happily eating a honey pastry larger than his hand.

His grin was impossible to ignore.

"Thank you, Princess."

Elara sat beside him.

"What is your name?"

"Thomas."

"Well, Thomas, enjoy every bite."

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

Watching him smile made her day.

Unfortunately, not everyone looked upon her with affection.

As she continued through the marketplace, she noticed two women whispering nearby.

"They say she was born beneath a blood-red sky."

"My husband swears the prophecy is true."

"What if she becomes the destroyer?"

Elara kept walking.

She had heard such whispers all her life.

Sometimes they hurt.

Sometimes they angered her.

Mostly, they exhausted her.

She was still just a girl.

Yet people spoke as though she were a storm waiting to happen.

---

That evening, Elara sat beneath the royal gardens' oldest tree.

Its branches stretched toward the sky like ancient arms.

It was her favorite place in the palace.

Whenever life became overwhelming, she came here.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hiding again?"

Elara looked up and smiled.

Her younger brother, Prince Lucien.

At fifteen, Lucien possessed endless energy and almost no patience.

His dark hair was disheveled.

As usual.

"You should be studying."

"So should you."

"I am studying."

Lucien laughed.

"Sitting under a tree?"

"I'm studying clouds."

"Very important royal work."

"The most important."

The siblings shared a smile.

Despite their differences, they were close.

Lucien sat beside her.

For a moment neither spoke.

Then his expression grew serious.

"Do the whispers still bother you?"

Elara knew exactly what he meant.

The prophecy.

The rumors.

The fear.

She looked toward the setting sun.

"Sometimes."

Lucien picked up a stone.

"They're idiots."

Elara laughed softly.

"You shouldn't call half the kingdom idiots."

"Then perhaps only a quarter."

She nudged his shoulder.

"You are impossible."

"I learned from the best."

For the first time that day, Elara felt lighter.

Her brother had a gift for that.

Making difficult things seem smaller.

Even if only for a little while.

---

As night settled over Valtheria, King Aldric stood alone within his private chamber.

A fire crackled quietly nearby.

In his hands rested an old parchment.

The parchment had been hidden for sixteen years.

The Crimson Prophecy.

The king read the faded words once more.

His expression darkened.

He hated this prophecy.

Hated the fear it brought.

Hated the burden it placed upon his daughter.

Most of all, he hated the uncertainty.

Because despite all these years, he still didn't know which future awaited Elara.

The savior.

Or the destroyer.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Enter."

The captain of the royal guard stepped inside.

His face was grim.

King Aldric immediately sensed trouble.

"What happened?"

The captain hesitated.

Then he answered.

"A rider arrived from the northern border."

The king stood.

"What news?"

The captain swallowed.

"There has been an attack."

The room fell silent.

The fire crackled softly.

Outside, distant thunder rumbled beyond the mountains.

And far away, beyond the borders of Valtheria, the first shadows of war were beginning to gather.

Unaware of the danger approaching her kingdom, Princess Elara gazed at the stars from her bedroom window.

She did not know that fate was already moving.

Did not know that ancient powers had awakened.

Did not know that her life was about to change forever.

For now, she was simply Elara.

Beloved daughter of the king.

But not for much longer.

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