The room was bathed in the soft, early morning light, a delicate hue of gold seeping through the cracks in the curtains. The world outside was still and serene, a stark contrast to the turbulence within Lyra's mind. The remnants of a restless night clung to her, haunting her thoughts like the fading echoes of a distant storm.
Unable to find solace in sleep, Lyra had spent the night in the grip of a recurring dream, a vision of a castle standing defiantly amidst the chaos of a thunderstorm. Its location remained unknown to her, yet the dream had left her profoundly unsettled. In the quiet predawn hours, she sat on the edge of her bed, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself against the unseen forces that had troubled her subconscious.
Through the small window in her shared chamber with Bruni, Lyra sought refuge in the sky, watching as the first tendrils of sunlight began to paint the heavens with delicate hues of pink and gold. The sunrise, usually a source of comfort, felt distant today, unable to penetrate the shadows that clung to her thoughts.
After a while, determination sparked in her eyes, and a silent decision was made amidst the silent whispers of dawn. Rising, she moved with purpose, choosing to face the day despite the heaviness in her heart. She selected her attire thoughtfully, the fabric cool against her skin, and deftly braided her hair, the practiced motions a familiar anchor in the midst of uncertainty.
Her gaze shifted towards Bruni, still lost in the depths of slumber, her face peaceful in the soft morning light. A tender smile tugged at the corners of Lyra's lips. She approached Bruni's bed, leaning down to gently rouse her from her dreams. Bruni stirred, her protest evident until Lyra's voice, soft as a whispering breeze, reached her ears.
"I'm leaving, 'B'," Lyra said, her fingers threading lightly through Bruni's tousled, blonde hair. "I'll see you later during breakfast."
Bruni, her eyes heavy with sleep, nodded slightly, a gesture of understanding. With a final, affectionate touch. Lyra left the room, her heart heavy with the weight of the dream but determined to face the day ahead.
The castle was awakening, a symphony of muted noises filling the air as servants hurried about their tasks. Lyra, with her morning duties yet to claim her attention, found solace in the quiet moments before the day truly began. Since that night, that pivotal conversation with the princess, something had shifted in the atmosphere of the castle. A subtle change, imperceptible to most, but keenly felt by Lyra.
Walking through the winding corridors, she mulled over the recent exchange with Kit. They were far from friendship, that much was clear, but a bridge, tentative and fragile, seemed to have been built between them. The tension that once crackled in the air between them had mellowed into a quiet understanding, and that brought a rare smile to Lyra's lips.
Her steps, guided by a newfound purpose, led her to the castle gardens. The vibrant blooms were a riot of color, a stark contrast to the somber stone of the castle walls. Perhaps, Lyra mused, a touch of nature's beauty could bring some warmth to the princess's chambers. With careful hands, she began selecting flowers, each choice made with precision and care. Roses, delicate and fragrant, found a place among daisies and tulips, their colors blending into a harmonious arrangement.
Satisfied with her selection, she prepared to leave, her arms cradling the bouquet gently. But just as she turned, her gaze fell upon a lily. A flower she had avoided since her teenage years, the memory of a past she wished to forget associated with its elegant petals. Yet, this particular lily was different. Its pristine white seemed untouched by the stains of the past, and its fragrance hung heavy in the air, promising a sweetness that beckoned Lyra.
Caught between past aversion and present curiosity, Lyra hesitated. Then, with a determined breath, she bent down, her fingers gently cradling the lily's stem. Four lilies joined the bouquet, their presence a testament to Lyra's silent resolve to face the ghosts of her past. With the bouquet in hand, she made her way to the castle kitchens.
The kitchens were a bustling haven of activity, a sanctuary for sizzling pans and the fragrant dance of spices. Lyra's entrance was greeted with the sweet morning greetings of the maids, their smiles warm and genuine. Their camaraderie, the unspoken language of shared tasks, was a comforting melody in the young woman's ears.
With the careful grace of a practiced hand, Lyra placed the bouquet on an empty table, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the neutral tones of the kitchen. Her fingers, accustomed to the tender touch of petals, lingered over the blossoms. Each flower held a memory, a delicate thread linking her to a time when her mother's hands, just as skilled as her own, had woven tapestries of blooms to make every new place they visited feel like home. The art of arranging flowers had always been more than a task; it was a cherished tradition, a piece of her mother that Lyra carried with her wherever she went.
Today, amid the quietude of the kitchen and the fragrant blooms before her, the weight of her responsibilities seemed to lift, if only for a moment. A soft smile graced her lips as she lost herself in the intricate dance of arranging the flowers, a skill that brought her not just joy, but a profound sense of connection to her roots.
In the midst of her task, the world outside the petals blurred. For a while, there was only the scent of the flowers, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the memories of her mother's laughter interwoven with the fragrance of blooming roses. It was a brief escape, a respite from the duties that weighed her down and the expectations that bound her.
But the tranquility shattered like glass when a hush fell over the kitchen. The ambient sounds hushed, replaced by the soft footsteps of someone entering. An intuitive prickle danced at the edges of Lyra's awareness, a subconscious recognition of a presence. The sudden silence stirred her curiosity, her blue eyes lifting from the blooms to find the source of the interruption.
"Good morning, Your Highness," a maid's voice, laced with deference, broke the quietude. The title hung in the air, reverberating with a weight that made Lyra's heart skip a beat. Slowly, her gaze traveled beyond the maid, and there, in the doorway, stood Kit.
The sight surprised her, the princess's presence in the kitchen was an unexpected turn of events. The bouquet forgotten for the moment, Lyra's attention was now entirely captured by the royal figure framed in the doorway.
The kitchen was a symphony of morning sounds, the clinking of utensils, the crackle of the stove, and the soft murmur of the maids engaged in their tasks. Lyra's greeting cut through the ambiance, her voice carrying a warmth that matched the gentle sunlight filtering through the windows.
"Kit! You're up early!" she exclaimed, her smile as radiant as the dawn. Kit responded with a slight, almost imperceptible nod. But before their conversation could progress, Annora, a kitchen maid with an air of authority, interjected.
"Lyra Calloway! Do not call the princess by her given name; I raised you better than that!" Annora's reprimand was stern but not unkind. Lyra's shoulders straightened instinctively, and she dipped into a graceful curtsy, her eyes respectfully lowered in the presence of royalty.
"Sorry," Lyra murmured, chastened by Annora's admonishment.
"Oh, no, it's fine. I asked her to call me that," Kit intervened, her voice carrying a gentle authority that quelled any lingering tension. Annora and the other maids, now assured of the princess's permission, resumed their duties, leaving the space around Kit and Lyra uncluttered.
Lyra turned her gaze to Kit, her hand absently finding solace in the petals of a lily. The princess appeared ready for the day, and a mixture of concern and hope flickered in Lyra's eyes. She knew the significance of Kit's presence here; it meant she had likely faced a troubling night. Before Lyra could voice her concern, Kit rushed to speak.
"I couldn't sleep, not after a conversation I had with my mother last night," Kit confessed, her words rushed as if she needed to expel them before they weighed her down further.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Lyra said softly, her eyes filled with understanding. The unspoken question hung between them: What had transpired between mother and daughter to cast this shadow over Kit's morning?
Distracted, Kit's attention shifted to the array of food in the kitchen. "Is there something I could eat?" she inquired, her words almost tumbling over each other in haste.
"Sure, breakfast will be served in an hour, but we already have bread if you'd like some," Lyra offered, gesturing toward a tray laden with freshly baked bread. Kit nodded her gratitude, selecting a piece and retreating to a quiet corner to enjoy her simple repast.
Lyra watched her, the lily forgotten in her hand. A thought, soft as a whisper, flitted through her mind. Perhaps Kit would appreciate the lily today. Perhaps Kit would choose the lily this time. The notion hung in the air, unspoken but pregnant with significance.
"Who picked the flowers?" Kit asked between bites, her curiosity piqued by the vibrant blooms on the table.
"Oh! You like them?" Lyra's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. The possibility that her gesture had been appreciated warmed her heart.
"It's absurd," Kit said, her words measured, her gaze resting on the flowers. "I mean, they would die in a matter of days."
Lyra's fingers loosened around the lily, and she instinctively tucked it behind her back. "Yeah... absurd," she agreed, her voice soft, almost melancholic.
Silence enveloped them for a few moments, a contemplative quietude that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Lyra cleared her throat, her eyes meeting Kit's with gentle concern.
"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, her voice a soothing melody in the midst of the kitchen's morning bustle.
"No, I'm ready for the day. I think I'll go and spend some time with Airk until breakfast," Kit replied, her tone light but her eyes carrying a hint of lingering unease. With that, she left the kitchens
Lyra stood in the bustling kitchen, a curious blend of emotions swirling within her like ingredients in a complex recipe. After Kit's abrupt departure, a peculiar sense of quiet settled around her. The fragrant aroma of fresh bread wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate scent of flowers.
Without a word, Lyra turned, her nimble fingers deftly undoing the intricately woven bouquet she had so carefully crafted. Each blossom was dismantled with precision as if Lyra were disentangling her own thoughts, unraveling them one petal at a time.
A familiar presence approached, and Annora, the wise and nurturing figure who had guided Lyra through her time in the castle, questioned her softly. "What are you doing?" Annora's tone was gentle, her eyes reflecting the empathy she felt for the young girl before her.
"I just think that maybe the bouquet was too big for just one chamber," Lyra replied, her voice a mere whisper in the bustling kitchen. Her gaze fell upon the scattered flowers, each one holding a story of its own, a tale whispered in delicate hues and fragrant notes.
Annora's hand touched Lyra's arm, the touch a comforting reassurance amidst the storm of emotions. "Were you going to put them in the princess's chamber?" Annora inquired, her eyes filled with understanding. Lyra nodded, her eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability
"So, I was thinking of making smaller ones, just in case someone else wants one," Lyra explained, her voice carrying a note of quiet determination. The act of creating, of weaving beauty from raw materials, was Lyra's solace, a sanctuary where the troubles of the world melted away beneath the artistry of her hands.
A warm smile graced Annora's lips, a smile that held a wealth of affection for the girl who had become like a daughter to her. "Well, I would love to have one when you finish," Annora declared, her words a testament to the bond they shared. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on Lyra's forehead, a silent acknowledgment of the love and respect that flowed between them.
And so, amidst the bustling kitchen and the intoxicating scent of flowers, Lyra continued her work, her hands moving with a grace born of both skill and love.
With the bouquets cradled carefully in her arms, Lyra made her way through the bustling corridors of the castle, the vibrant colors of the flowers a stark contrast to the stone walls that surrounded her. Annora's bouquet, lovingly crafted, was left behind on the kitchen table, a testament to the bond between the maid and the young flower enthusiast.
As she walked, her steps infused with purpose, Lyra's keen eyes spotted Bruni, her ever-curious friend, standing nearby. Bruni's greeting, usually joyful, quickly transformed into a puzzled expression as she took in the array of flowers in Lyra's arms.
"What are you doing?" Bruni inquired, her curiosity piqued by the sight before her.
"Just in the mood for flowers," Lyra replied, her lips curving into a small, mysterious smile. The enigmatic response only deepened Bruni's confusion, but she didn't press further, sensing that Lyra had her reasons.
Bruni's sharp eyes, however, didn't miss the distinctive lilies among the blooms. She pointed at the two lilies artfully arranged together and the solitary lily left in a corner of the kitchen. "Are those lilies?" Bruni questioned, her voice carrying a hint of surprise and concern.
Lyra met Bruni's gaze, her own eyes holding a mixture of determination and something else, something hidden beneath the surface. "Yes, even those. Goodbye," she said hurriedly, her words hanging in the air as she continued on her way, leaving Bruni standing there
With grace in her steps and an air of purpose, Lyra moved through the corridors of the grand castle, her arms laden with colorful bouquets. The delicate fragrance of the flowers wafted around her, creating a sweet, comforting aura. Her first destination was Prince Airk's chamber. Lyra's heart swelled with a warm glow as she carefully placed a bouquet in his room, imagining the delight it would bring to Bruni. The thought of her friend's happiness filled her with a sense of accomplishment, a small act of kindness in a world often marred by complexities.
After leaving Airk's chamber, Lyra found herself standing before Kit's door. A moment of hesitation lingered in the air as she considered placing a bouquet inside. Yet, she remembered Kit's distaste for flowers, a preference that stood in stark contrast to Lyra's own love for the blossoms. A faint frown tugged at her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the divide between them. With a determined sigh, she chose to respect Kit's aversion and walked past the door.
As Lyra continued her journey through the castle, she tried to uplift her spirits, focusing on the positive aspects of the day ahead. The vibrant sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows illuminated her path, casting a mosaic of colors on the stone floor. The echoes of her footsteps resonated in the halls, accompanying her as she moved forward, both physically and emotionally, ready to face whatever challenges the day might bring.
Amidst the sunlit corridors of the castle, while Lyra embraced the day with optimism, a shadow seemed to loom over Kit. Her night had been restless, leaving her irritable and discontent. As she navigated the morning, an impending meeting with her mother cast a cloud over her otherwise strained mood.
Yet, in the midst of her turmoil, spending time with her brother, Airk, brought a semblance of comfort. Their ongoing conversation became her sanctuary, a refuge from the impending encounter with her mother. During breakfast, her mother attempted to engage her in conversation, but Kit, resolute in her decision, chose to immerse herself in the dialogue with Airk, a deliberate act of defiance against the discord that threatened to consume her day.
Under the cerulean sky, Kit bid farewell to her brother after breakfast, her steps purposeful as she headed towards the training grounds where Jade and Lyra awaited. The mere thought of joining her friends brought a hint of solace to her troubled heart. Even though she had only recently met Lyra, there was an inexplicable tranquility in the girl's presence that Kit found oddly comforting.
As Kit approached the pair, her eyes met Lyra's, and a genuine smile graced her lips. But before she could reach them, her joy waned as she noticed Lyra's departure. "Lyra, wait!" Kit's voice held a hint of disappointment, her confusion etched on her face. "You aren't staying?" she asked, her expectation of Lyra's presence during her training evident.
"No, I have some duties I need to tend to," Lyra replied, her departure leaving Kit standing there, a sense of abandonment gnawing at her.
Left with a frown, Kit turned her attention to Jade, who mirrored her confusion. Attempting to push aside the confusion, Kit greeted Jade, but her tone lacked its usual cheerfulness. "I am engaged," she stated plainly, her words hanging heavy in the air.
"What?" Jade's disbelief was palpable, her voice a mixture of shock and concern.
"I am to marry the prince of Galladoorn, five days from now," Kit continued hurriedly, her words laced with resignation. "My mother let me know yesterday."
A heavy silence fell between them. "Kit, are you okay?" Jade inquired, her worry evident as she followed Kit's steps.
"I am not, but there is no way to get me out of this," Kit confessed, her voice laced with bitterness and despair. Seeking solace in the conversation, Kit changed the subject, her eyes falling upon a small bouquet of lilies in Jade's hands.
"Are those lilies?" Kit asked, a tinge of curiosity coloring her tone, eager for a distraction.
"Oh, yes," Jade replied, momentarily distracted by the change in topic.
"I got a lily once, on my fourteenth birthday," Kit recalled, her voice softening with the memory. "It was left outside my chamber door. I never knew who left it there."
"What did you do with the lily?" Jade inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Nothing. I was careful not to step on it and carried on with my day. When I returned in the afternoon, it was gone. Perhaps Airk took it and gave it to some girl," Kit replied, her voice tinged with melancholy.
"You never found out who left it?" Jade asked, her curiosity evident.
"No, and I never received another one. Where did you get the bouquet?" Kit inquired, her eyes drawn to the familiar blooms.
"Lyra gave it to me just before you arrived. She said she picked them out this morning. Isn't it lovely? She left some bouquets in the chambers," Jade explained, her fingers gently tracing the delicate petals.
A pang of regret washed over Kit as she realized her earlier thoughtless comment about the bouquets. If she had known Lyra had chosen them personally, she might have appreciated their beauty more. "Yes, it is," Kit murmured, her voice soft, her regret unspoken.
Tapping Jade's knee twice, Kit stood up, her determination flickering back into her eyes. She needed to focus on something positive. "Well, shall we start training for the day?" Kit asked, her tone slightly brighter, ready to lose herself in the familiar rhythm of combat.
The grandeur of the dining hall buzzed with conversations and clinking cutlery, but Kit's eyes flickered over the faces, searching for one that was conspicuously absent. Lyra. The absence struck her, a jarring discordance in the routine of their shared evenings. Even Airk, usually oblivious to the nuances of Kit's companions, noticed Lyra's absence, voicing his query with a furrowed brow. Kit's response was casual, dismissing her own concerns, but a lingering unease knotted her stomach.
Throughout dinner, Kit artfully maneuvered through conversations, her responses carefully calibrated to deter any further inquiries into her well-being. She managed to enjoy her meal in relative peace, stealing glances toward the door whenever it opened, hoping to see Lyra's familiar figure. But the night stretched on, and Lyra remained conspicuously absent.
Later, after dinner, Kit and Airk retreated to their chambers, their laughter echoing through the corridors as they raced up the stairs. Kit triumphed, her grin wide as she stood victorious at her chamber door, reveling in her win over her brother. As Airk retreated into his own room, Kit's eyes were drawn to a small bouquet of flowers delicately placed on a table. Lyra's bouquet. The sight brought a smile to her lips, a fleeting reassurance that perhaps all was well.
Yet, as Kit entered her own chamber, an unspoken disappointment washed over her. The room was empty, devoid of Lyra's presence. The lavender scent that had become a comforting routine was conspicuously absent, replaced by an unsettling void. Kit's eyes darted around the room, searching for the familiar bouquet, but it was nowhere to be found.
A pang of worry crept into Kit's thoughts. Had she upset Lyra somehow? Pondering the possibility, Kit changed into her nightclothes, her mind awhirl with questions. Why would Lyra be angry? Had Kit done something to offend her?
Sitting on her bed, Kit extinguished the candles one by one, shrouding the room in darkness. She waited, expecting Lyra to burst through the door any moment, a smile playing on her lips, ready to dismiss Kit's worries. But the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, and still, there was no sign of the redhead.
Frustration and anxiety gnawed at Kit's thoughts. She decided to close her eyes, an attempt to will away her worries and force herself into sleep. But the silence was oppressive, her ears strained for any sound, any indication that Lyra was near.
Then, the door creaked open, and Kit's heart leaped in her chest. She reached for the knife hidden under her pillow, a precautionary measure against any possible threat. But then, a soft voice cut through the darkness. "Kit?"
Kit remained still, her breath catching in her throat, not daring to respond. The footsteps approached, soft and tentative, and Kit could smell the familiar fragrance of lavender as it wafted towards her. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
Lyra moved around the room, her footsteps purposeful yet gentle, until the comforting scent of lavender was placed on a nearby table. Kit allowed herself a small smile, the tension in her chest releasing. She felt Lyra's presence retreat toward the door, but then, a soft sound reached her ears - two knocks, gentle yet deliberate, against the wood of her bedside table.
Lyra left, her silent reassurance echoing in Kit's ears. The darkness around her seemed a little less daunting, and after that small, meaningful gesture, Kit finally succumbed to sleep, a fragile peace settling over her.
As the days inched closer to Kit's impending wedding, a noticeable distance had crept into Lyra's interactions. While Lyra continued to assist Kit with her morning routines, their interactions had lost a touch of the warmth that once characterized them. It had become a functional relationship, void of the camaraderie that Kit had grown accustomed to. They would share brief moments of laughter and conversation, but the moments were fleeting, interrupted by a quiet withdrawal.
The walk to breakfast had transformed from a jovial affair to a brisk escort. Lyra would guide Kit toward the grand dining hall, but rather than joining her as she had before, she would simply ensure Kit was settled before slipping away.
On the training grounds, Kit noticed that Lyra had chosen to stay with Jade, her cheerful presence never lingering during Kit's sessions. The absence was palpable, and Kit couldn't help but feel a sense of abandonment, even though she knew she had no right to feel that way.
Each night, Kit would find her nightgown thoughtfully chosen and laid out for her. The lavender scent still clung to her room, its soothing aroma providing solace amidst the growing turmoil. But Lyra no longer visited during Kit's waking hours, and the conversations and laughter they once shared had become fleeting echoes, whispers of a connection slipping through their fingers.
Kit grappled with the weight of her impending wedding. She loathed the phrase "her wedding," each repetition acting as a harsh reminder of the life that was swiftly approaching. The reality of the union was a noose tightening around her neck, suffocating her every thought and action. In those moments of torment, Kit found herself yearning for Lyra, for her touch, for the lavender, for the fleeting reassurances that now felt like lifelines.
Even though she knew Lyra visited her chamber each night, leaving the lavender and tapping twice on her bedside, Kit resisted speaking to her. She feared that by breaking the silence, she might inadvertently extinguish that fragile thread connecting them. And so, her voice remained trapped by her doubts and anxieties, shackled by her longing for what she couldn't fully comprehend.
Each day inched them closer to the wedding, and as the world around Kit whirled with preparations and festivity, she felt herself drowning in a sea of obligations. The wedding loomed like an oncoming storm, and the only anchor she had was the memory of Lyra's silent reassurances.
It took a while and I'm so sorry, but the new chapter is finally here, we are getting into the plot of the show's next chapter.
I hope you guys enjoy it, please let me know what you guys think.
Again, I'm sorry for any mistakes.