Chapter One: The Weight of a Crown
Visera's POV
If someone were to ask me what the most arduous burden of being a princess truly was...
I would answer without the slightest hesitation.
Being a princess.
Not the suffocating gowns.
Not the jeweled crown.
Not the endless ceremonies.
But the relentless expectation...
to become someone you were never meant to be.
"Straighten your posture."
A weary sigh escaped my lips.
Lady Adelia scarcely blinked.
At times, I was convinced the sole purpose of her existence was to sculpt me into the flawless princess whispered about in bedtime legends.
"My posture is perfectly straight," I replied flatly.
"Straighter."
I arched a brow.
"And where, exactly, am I supposed to procure an extra spine?"
Silence lingered between us.
Then she offered one of those smiles that bore an uncanny resemblance to a frown.
"Princess Visera..."
"I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from responding to your elders with sarcasm."
I shrugged nonchalantly.
"I wasn't being sarcastic."
"I was genuinely curious where one acquires additional vertebrae."
Several maids standing against the wall nearly choked on their laughter.
Lady Adelia slowly closed her eyes.
One...
Two...
Three...
When she finally spoke again, her voice had returned to its meticulously crafted composure.
"Now... smile."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"Because a princess must always wear a smile."
"What if she has no desire to?"
"She smiles regardless."
"What if she despises the person standing before her?"
"She smiles regardless."
"What if she is contemplating cleaving someone in half with a sword?"
That was the moment her composure fractured.
"Visera!"
A faint smile curled at the corner of my lips.
"There."
"You couldn't keep smiling either."
Ten interminable minutes later...
The lesson had finally concluded.
I stepped through the doorway without waiting for permission.
The first thing that greeted me...
was the fragrance of the forest.
Cool air drifted across my face.
Birdsong echoed through the towering trees.
Leaves whispered beneath the wind.
For the first time that morning...
I allowed myself to breathe.
I rested my palm against the rough bark of an ancient oak.
Trees...
Never demanded that I fabricate a smile.
Never instructed me to stand straighter.
Never insisted I speak less.
They simply...
existed.
I often wished people were more like trees.
But they were not.
And I...
was destined to become their queen.
