That night slowly crawled to dawn, and the fearfully anticipated day arrived.
In Queen Ingrid's chamber, the candles were still burning, their wax pooled thick and uneven at the base, evidence of a night without sleep.
She rose up from her bed and stood before her mirror. It was not the polished, jeweled one meant for display, but the taller, older mirror hidden behind a folding screen.
It showed her plainly. No jeweleries or makeup, just herself. A woman who had been broken for years emotionally, but no one cared or knew.
She wondered if her mother would be proud of this risky act she was about to take. But then, her mother always told her one thing that stuck to her, "The greatest way to show love and kindness is to sacrifice."
And this time, she was sacrificing her already worn out life.
Definitely, she would be proud.
Her reflection stared back at her, calm but resolute.
"Today," she murmured, "you stop being Queen. You become a tool for protection."
She reached for the bell on her bedside table and rang it.
Footsteps followed shortly after and there was a knock on the door, before it opened. Lena entered, already tense, sensing something odd in the air. Something she didn't like.
She didn't want her Queen to do this.
"You sent for me, Your Majesty?"
"Yes." Ingrid turned from the mirror. "Lock the door."
Lena obeyed without question.
Ingrid then gestured toward a chest at the foot of the bed. "Bring it here."
Lena did so, her hands shaking slightly as she knelt to open it.
Inside lay a simple gown. A night gown. It was dull in color, woven plainly, the kind of garment not commonly worn by Royals.
Lena looked at her confusingly. "Your Majesty…"
Ingrid sat on the edge of the bed. "Help me out here."
Lena hesitated. "Why do you want to wear this? I don't under—"
Ingrid lifted her gaze. "Lena, just do as I say."
Lena swallowed hard and reached for the gown.
As she undressed the Queen, she felt the weight of the moment settle into her bones. The fine layers of silk gown pooled down to her feet, exposing her bare skin.
Ingrid then stepped into the plain gown without complaint. It was colder than she expected, and she shivered a little.
When Lena tied it at the back, her fingers trembled.
"You could still stop this, Your Majesty," Lena whispered. "You shouldn't risk your life for an enemy who isn't even –"
"Lena."
She shut her mouth.
Ingrid then turned her head slowly. "I thought we discussed this Lena. Why do you keep bringing it up?"
"Because I'm worried about you, Your Majesty! What if you're –" She paused, then gulped, "What if you're…what if you're killed?"
Ingrid met her eyes, then smiled. "We'll see how it all turns out."
But that did little to calm Lena down, instead it only ignited her worries further.
Then Ingrid returned to the mirror. The woman staring back was no longer a monarch.
She was smaller somehow, stripped of symbols and reduced to flesh and breath.
Still, her eyes burned with that quiet but dangerous fire. Now, it was time to unleash that fire.
"When His Majesty realizes you…deceived him," Lena whispered. "What will happen?"
"That was the point."
Lena pressed her lips together. "I don't understand."
"To show him everything can't always go your way," Ingrid replied. "He will be stripped of his power, ego…everything," she chuckled.
Lena watched her carefully.
"And also," she turned away from the mirror. "Bring the scarf."
Lena unfolded the thin scarf, identical to the one Nyssa now wore.
"Also, I want to help her. I have to put an end to Damon using women like they are mere things he can just toss. Even though I can't stop him fully…I will know I was able to do something. At least."
Lena's eyes filled with tears. "I'm just worried about you, Your Majesty. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."
Ingrid smiled, but said nothing. Then, a distant bell rang.
It was finally dawn, time for a new day. The palace began to stir with activities.
Ingrid inhaled deeply. "It's time, Lena."
Lena looked at her, feeling her cheeks wet. Ingrid turned to her and then smiled softly.
"Don't you trust me, Lena?"
Lena sniffed, then nodded slowly.
"Good. Trust me on this too."
Another knock on the door came and Ingrid took a deep breath. That was Yna.
Now, as she was being dragged down the halls, the guards escorting her did not bow. They did not meet her eyes. To them, she was just another condemned soul, wrapped in plain cloth.
She welcomed the anonymity. Then, when they reached a particular spot, they covered her face with a breathable cloth.
As they descended the steps toward the palace grounds, Ingrid listened to the sounds of the morning. The scrape of boots, the murmur of gathered crowds and the restless shifting of soldiers eager to witness justice.
Justice, she thought bitterly.
They brought her to a holding chamber near the execution platform. The stone walls were cold and the air damp.
She was pushed roughly and then she sat.
And as she waited, memories flooded into her mind. As a little girl, she spent time with her mother, painting and dreaming of her life, only for everything to be shattered. By one man.
Ingrid closed her eyes. Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching.
She heard the footsteps get closer and then the hushes lessened and his presence was announced.
Emperor Damon.
He stepped in, wearing ceremonial armor, polished to a glittering shine. His expression was stern and cool, unbothered by whatever was about to happen.
"Princess Nyssa," he said, voice echoing slightly. "Do you have any last words?"
Ingrid lifted her head slowly, and she could feel him inches away from her. For a moment, she said nothing.
Damon's eyes narrowed. "What? Too terrified to speak?"
Ingrid faintly smiled. If he only knew.
"No," Ingrid said softly, using Nyssa's voice as best she could. "I have nothing left to give you."
Damon's jaw tightened. "Very well. Extend my greetings to your useless family on the other side."
He turned sharply and left. Ingrid released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Outside, the crowd roared and she was led onto the platform.
The two queens sat at a distance, watching the scene unfold.
"Where is Queen Ingrid?" Euphemia asked Sibyl but the latter only shrugged. She didn't care and didn't want to.
Sunlight struck Ingrid's face, harshly. She squinted slightly, adjusting, though the cloth was still over her face.
She could feel the gaze of the people on her. People expecting to watch the view of someone being beheaded, like it was an entertainment show.
She stood tall and the executioner stepped forward.
She heard the priest begin to speak. Ingrid listened distantly, her thoughts elsewhere.
Run, she willed silently as she thought of Nyssa. Run far, run free.
As the priest finished, Ingrid lifted her head upwards, imagining Nyssa already gone, already breathing free air beyond these walls.
Then, a horn sounded. The executioner raised his sword and Ingrid closed her eyes. And smiled.
And in the next second, the cloth was removed from her face.