After a few hours of preparation, Dawn and Qazaethel arrived at the hall of the throne room and while walking, they’re whispering words to each other. The corridor was leading to the throne room, lined with guards and servants, all of them was bowing as the sovereign and the Phoenix empress passed.
The air was thick with the scent of incense and fresh flowers, and the distant sound of music drifted from the hall ahead. Dawn walked with her head held high, her expression was composed, but her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke to Qazaethel.
"How come I didn’t know that the person you harbor feelings for was Liv?" Qazaethel kept her voice down so no one would hear. Her eyes were fixed ahead, her expression was carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of something in her tone—curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of amusement.
Dawn’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she glanced at Qazaethel from the corner of her eye. "I’m... I’m just afraid to tell you. General Liv was your friend for almost five thousand years, and I’m afraid you’ll find out and do something to take her away from me." Dawn whispered back, finally voicing out her fear to Qazaethel. The words came out in a rush, as if she had been holding them in for a long time and could no longer keep them contained.
Qazaethel softened and took her hand to make it wrap around her arm. The gesture was gentle, almost tender, and it surprised Dawn. She had expected coldness, or at least indifference. She had not expected this. "I’m sorry if you got scared of me, Dawn. I didn’t mean it. And I was also overprotective of Eiravelle that I made you look like a villain in my mind." Qazaethel admitted.
Dawn giggled and smacked her arm lightly. The sound was soft and genuine, a rare moment of lightness in the midst of everything that had happened. "So you both did it? How does it feel?" She asked casually, like it’s a conversation about weathers but it’s not.
Qazaethel’s eyes widened slightly, and she turned to look at Dawn with an expression that was half shock, half amusement. "Let’s not talk about it. You should focus on being here. And if you press further, I’ll find out how Liv put it inside you." Qazaethel coldly teased, her voice was dropping to a low murmur that only Dawn could hear.
Dawn was flustered like a boiled tomato. Her cheeks burned, and she looked away quickly, her composure cracking for just a moment. "Stop saying that! How shameless!"
Qazaethel tried to contain her laugh, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was the kind of smile that rarely appeared on her face, the kind that softened her usually cold features and made her look almost human. But then she put on her cold face again the moment they entered the throne room.
The throne room was vast and magnificent, its high ceilings were supported by pillars carved from white marble and inlaid with gold. Chandeliers hung from above, their crystals were catching the light and scattering it into a thousand tiny rainbows. The floor was polished to a mirror shine, and the walls were depicting the history of Solkanaia—battles won, treaties signed, and dynasties risen and fallen.
At the far end of the hall, two thrones sat on a raised dais. One was the sovereign’s throne, ancient and imposing, carved from dark wood and adorned with the crest of the dragon-phoenix. Beside it was a new throne, smaller but no less beautiful, adorned with the golden phoenix crest of Ashrein. It was Dawn’s throne, a symbol of their union, a symbol of the alliance between their kingdoms.
Everyone bowed including the concubines. Liv was standing beside the throne of the Sovereign, while Eiravelle stood beside other concubines. To make it total, Qazaethel had thirty concubines, which is very limited compared to other kingdoms who take a lot of omega concubines.
It was a deliberate choice, one that Qazaethel had made long ago. She had never been interested in amassing a large harem, had never seen the point of collecting omegas like trophies. She had chosen each of her concubines carefully, for their skills, their intelligence, and their loyalty. And now, with Eiravelle among them, the harem felt more complete than it ever had before.
Other noble families including the Arthion were also there, they prepared their gifts. The Arthion family stood together near the front of the hall, their expressions were carefully neutral. Arthion stood tall and his face was unreadable. Elaria stood beside him, her hands are clasped in front of her as her eyes were fixed on the dais.
Arisia stood slightly behind them, her gaze was flickering toward Eiravelle with an expression that was difficult to read. And Ariphale stood at the edge of the group, her arms are crossed and her jaw was tight. They had come to show their support, to present their gifts and fulfill their obligations. But there was tension in the air around them, a tension that had nothing to do with the celebration and everything to do with the omega who now stood among the concubines.
Arielle was there too, standing from afar among the politicians. She had come alone, had slipped into the hall without drawing attention to herself. She was not here to present a gift. She was here to see her sister. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her knuckles white, and her eyes were fixed on Eiravelle with an intensity that bordered on desperation.
It had been months since she had seen her sister up close. Months since she had heard her voice, touched her hand, held her in her arms. And now, seeing her standing there among the concubines, dressed in fine silks, her expression was carefully composed, Arielle felt her heart break all over again.
"The Sovereign and the Phoenix empress had arrived! Pay respect to the divine couple!" The usher announced, and all of them bowed as a sign of respect and greetings.
Then Qazaethel and Dawn walked down the aisle toward their thrones, and Qazaethel didn’t let go of Dawn’s hand. It was the perfect way of showing to everyone their perfect facade and image as the newlywed divine couple of Solkanaia.
The guests watched them pass, their eyes were filled with curiosity and speculation. Some of them whispered to each other, commenting on how beautiful the empress looked, how regal the sovereign seemed, and how perfectly matched they were. None of them knew the truth. None of them knew about the arrangement, the loneliness, and the secrets that lay beneath the surface.
As Qazaethel and Dawn settled on their seats, Qazaethel announced: "You may all rise." She commanded, and everyone said in unison, "Thank you, Your Majesty!" They all rose and stood up straight.
This is the wedding celebration, a tradition of the Solkanaia as a way of saying they’re happy and they support the union between the Phoenix empress and the Sovereign. It was a celebration that would last for days, filled with feasts and music and dancing. But for now, the focus was on the gifts, the offerings that the nobles and concubines had prepared to honor the new empress.
"Since Kariv is back, I shall have him give his gift first." Qazaethel said, and Kariv smirked.
Eiravelle’s heart pounded in her chest the moment she found out Kariv was here. She had not seen him since before she was taken by the Akhyas, had not spoken to him since he had been sent to solitary confinement. She had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that she would never have to see him again. But here he was, standing among the nobles, his presence was a dark cloud in the midst of the celebration.
Arielle, who was standing from afar among the politicians, clenched her fists when she saw Kariv walking down the aisle to present himself in front of Qazaethel. Her blood boiled at the sight of him. She remembered what he had done to her sister, remembered the way he had treated Eiravelle, and remembered the cruelty in his eyes.
She wanted to march down the aisle and confront him, to demand justice for everything he had done. But she held herself back. This was not the time, not the place. She would have her revenge. She would make him pay for what he had done. But not here. Not now.
Kariv knelt and bowed his head, "Greetings, Your Majesty. I have brought you a gift. It came from the shattered rocks sent by the supreme Gods the day they blessed Solkanaia." He proudly said.
But Qazaethel looked at him and rolled her eyes away. There was no warmth in her expression, no hint of maternal affection. There was only cold disdain. "Kariv, you’re well aware that the shattered rock sent by the supreme Gods is hidden in my treasures. If you were able to attain some parts of it, does that mean you entered my treasury without my permission?" Qazaethel coldly asked.
Kariv was shocked. His face went pale, and his mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find words. People gasped and they immediately murmured among themselves when they heard that. The whispers spread through the hall like wildfire, each one more damning than the last.
"Or if you confess that this rock is fake, I shall let you go. You should remind yourself that you’ve been violating a lot of my rules, and it is a serious offense to lie in front of me, child." Qazaethel said.
Kariv trembled. His hands shook, and his composure crumbled. He had thought he was being clever. He had thought he could fool his Ama, could present a fake gift and claim it was real, he thought he could regain some of the favor he had lost. But he had underestimated her. He had always underestimated her.
"Y-Yes, Your Majesty. I apologize. The rock was fake." He admitted.
Qazaethel gestured the servant to accept it. "Thank you. You may go now." She said.
Kariv was clearly humiliated once again. His face burned with shame, and he could hear the laughter of the other nobles, the whispers of mockery that followed him as he walked away. He had been humiliated in front of everyone, had been exposed as a liar and a fool. And it was all because of his own arrogance.
So he left while some people laughed at him. Arielle watched him go, a small, grim smile on her lips. It was not justice. It was not even close to justice. But it was a start.
"Next." Liv commanded.
It was Eiravelle who presented the next gift. She smiled, and Qazaethel tried to hide her smile. Eiravelle walked down the aisle, her steps were measured and graceful, the small box in her hands wrapped in simple cloth, she did not look at the other concubines, and did not look at the nobles. She kept her eyes fixed on the thrones, on the two people who sat there waiting for her.
"I am here to present my gift for the sovereign and the empress. I can’t think of anything but carve figurines for you both." Eiravelle said.
She gave them one box each. When they opened it, both of them smiled. Inside each box was a small wooden figurine, carved with incredible detail. The first was a dragon, its wings were spread wide, its eyes were fierce and proud. The second was a phoenix, its feathers were delicate and beautiful, and its expression was serene. They were simple gifts, humble gifts. But they had been made with care, with time, and with love.
But the concubines murmured and laughed at Eiravelle’s gifts, which made her feel small and foolish as always. The whispers were not quiet enough, and Eiravelle heard them. She heard the mockery in their voices, the contempt in their laughter. She felt her cheeks burn with shame, felt her hands begin to tremble. She should have known. She should have known that nothing she did would ever be good enough for them.
Qazaethel wanted to retort and stop them from laughing, but Dawn stopped Qazaethel with a gentle face and shook her head. There was something in Dawn’s eyes that made Qazaethel pause—a wisdom, a kindness, or a request. Let me handle this. Trust me.
"Lady Eiravelle, come and sit here next to me." Dawn invited.
Eiravelle was shocked. "But... Your Majesty—"
"This chair is wide. This can fit us two." Dawn said, and smiled widely at her.
Eiravelle bowed and complied, which shocked the concubines. She walked up to the dais and settled into the seat beside Dawn, her heart was pounding in her chest. She did not understand why the empress was being so kind to her. She did not understand why Dawn was treating her with such warmth when everyone else looked at her with contempt.
But seeing Eiravelle settle comfortably beside Dawn, all she can do is hide a small smile on her lips. Dawn had not expected this either. She had not expected to feel a connection with the omega who had been chosen as the sovereign’s concubine. But there was something about Eiravelle, something genuine and pure, that drew her in. Perhaps it was because she understood what it was like to be looked down upon, to be treated as less than, and to be a pawn in someone else’s game.
The gift giving continues, and everyone including Liv gave their gifts for the couple. Liv presented a set of ancient scrolls, their pages were filled with forgotten knowledge and lost wisdom. The other concubines presented jewels and silks and rare artifacts, each gift more extravagant than the last. Qazaethel’s children also presented their gifts and the last were the nobles who presented their offerings, each one was carefully chosen to curry favor with the sovereign and her new empress.
But throughout it all, Eiravelle sat beside Dawn, and the two of them spoke in quiet voices while their heads bent together. They spoke of small things—the weather, the decorations, the food. But beneath the small talk, something else was growing. A connection, friendship, an understanding that neither of them had expected to find.
And Qazaethel watched them from her throne, her expression was unreadable. She saw the way Dawn smiled at Eiravelle, saw the way Eiravelle relaxed in Dawn’s presence. She saw the beginning of something that she had not anticipated, something that could complicate everything.
But she said nothing. She simply sat on her throne, her hands are resting on the armrests, and watched the two omegas who had come to mean so much to her.
The celebration continued late into the night. The music played, the wine flowed, and the guests danced and laughed and celebrated the union of the sovereign and the Phoenix empress. But for Eiravelle, the day was not about the celebration. It was about the small kindness that Dawn had shown her, the hand extended in friendship, and the seat offered beside her. It was about the hope that maybe, just maybe, she was not as alone as she had thought.