Night came and darkness hovered over the entire world, but the lights illuminated the entire place, making the huge palace shine. The stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet, and the moon hung full and bright, casting silver light over the gardens and courtyards below.
Torches lined the pathways, their flames flickering in the gentle evening breeze, and the windows of the palace glowed with warm golden light. It was a beautiful night, peaceful and still, but beneath the surface, tensions simmered like water about to boil.
The servants moved through the corridors with quiet efficiency, their footsteps muffled by thick carpets, and the guards stood at their posts with watchful eyes. No one spoke of the unease that hung in the air, but everyone felt it. The palace had been restless for days, and the source of that restlessness was a single omega who had captured the sovereign’s heart.
Dawn returned without Ruthina in the main palace. The flight back had been quiet, the wind cold against her feathers, and her mind had been elsewhere the entire time. She kept thinking about Eiravelle, about the way the omega had looked when she left her—curled up on the bed with Ruthina’s rabbit form pressed against her side, her eyes closed but not sleeping, her breathing was too shallow to be peaceful.
Dawn had not wanted to leave. She had wanted to stay, to hold Eiravelle’s hand, to promise her that everything would be alright. But she knew that the person Eiravelle truly needed was not her.
It was Qazaethel.
The omega had been broken in a way that went deeper than fear. She had been made to believe she was nothing, that her child would be nothing, that she had no place in the world except as a target for cruelty.
Dawn had seen that kind of damage before, and she knew it could not be healed with a few kind words. It needed time, patience, and the steady presence of someone who would not abandon her.
That someone was not Dawn. It was Qazaethel, and Dawn was going to make sure the sovereign understood that.
The royal guards bowed and swung the grand door open for her. The doors were massive, carved from dark wood and inlaid with gold, and they groaned softly as they swung inward. She entered and they closed the door behind her, the sound echoed through the vast entrance hall.
The hall was empty at this hour, the servants were having long since retired to their quarters, and the only sound was the soft crackle of the torches that lined the walls. The flames cast dancing shadows across the marble floor, and Dawn’s footsteps echoed as she made her way toward the throne room.
She had hoped to find Qazaethel calm, or at least composed, but she knew better. The sovereign had been pacing for hours, ever since Dawn had left with Ruthina to visit Eiravelle. The waiting had been unbearable, and the not knowing had been worse.
"Your Majesty." She called out to Qazaethel who had been pacing back and forth on the floor beneath her throne.
The sovereign’s footsteps were quick and uneven, her hands are clasped behind her back, her brow furrowed with worry. She had been like this for hours, ever since Dawn had left with Ruthina to visit Eiravelle. The waiting had been unbearable, and the not knowing had been worse.
Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and every sound made her heart leap with hope that quickly faded into disappointment. She had tried to sit, tried to focus on the scrolls that Liv had brought her, tried to distract herself with work. But nothing had helped.
Her mind kept drifting back to Eiravelle, to the omega she had promised to protect, to the mother of her child.
She had failed her. She knew it. And the guilt was eating her alive. The scrolls still lay scattered on the small table near the throne, their edges were curled and their contents forgotten. Liv had given up trying to get her to eat hours ago, and Arielle had stopped trying to make conversation.
They had learned that the sovereign was not in a mood to be reasoned with, and so they had simply waited, watching her pace and wondering when the waiting would end.
Liv and Arielle bowed and greeted Dawn as she approached. They had been standing near the throne, watching Qazaethel’s pacing with a mixture of concern and helplessness. There was nothing they could say to calm her, nothing they could do to ease her worry.
All they could do was wait, and waiting was its own kind of torture. Liv’s hand rested on the hilt of her sword, a habit she had developed over years of service, and her sharp eyes tracked Dawn’s approach with barely concealed impatience.
Arielle stood slightly behind her, her hands are clasped in front of her, her expression was carefully neutral but her eyes betraying her own anxiety. She had been worrying about her sister every day since Eiravelle had left for the middle palace, and the reports she had received had done nothing to ease her mind. If anything, they had made it worse.
"Please rise, Arielle and Liv."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Liv and Arielle said in unison.
"Your Majesty, where’s Ruthina?" Arielle asked, and there was a genuine curiosity on her face when she asked that question. She had expected the golden rabbit to return with Dawn, had expected to see Ruthina’s bright smile and hear her cheerful voice filling the hall.
Ruthina had a way of lightening even the heaviest moments, and her absence was immediately noticeable. The hall felt colder without her, quieter in a way that was not peaceful but unsettling.
"She said she wanted to stay with Eiravelle, so I let her." Dawn sighed as she answered Arielle. The sigh was heavy, laden with exhaustion and something else—something that sounded almost like defeat.
She had spent hours with Eiravelle, had seen the fear in her eyes, had heard the trembling in her voice. And she had not been able to fix it. She had not been able to make it better.
Ruthina had refused to leave Eiravelle’s side, had pressed herself against the omega’s trembling form and promised to stay as long as she was needed. Dawn had not argued. She had simply nodded, touched Ruthina’s hair, and walked away. There was nothing else she could do.
"What about Eiravelle? How is it?" Qazaethel asked, and Dawn’s face seemed disappointed. The expression on her face was not one of anger, not one of frustration, but of a deep, aching sadness.
She had seen Eiravelle, had seen the state she was in, and it had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. Qazaethel stopped pacing the moment she heard Eiravelle’s name, her entire body going still as she waited for the answer. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and the fear that had been building for hours suddenly crystallized into something sharp and painful.
"Her servant, Saye, told me everything. It turns out it all started back when Eiravelle was invited to the middle palace." Dawn said.
Qazaethel suddenly felt something strange, but she was trying to compose herself. Her hands, which had been clasped behind her back, tightened into fists, and she had to force herself to breathe. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and she did not like it.
The middle palace had been a source of tension for weeks, ever since Vespera had issued that invitation. Qazaethel had explicitly forbidden any interaction between the concubines and Eiravelle, had made it clear that the omega was not to be touched or approached without her permission.
And yet, Vespera had disobeyed her. Vespera, who had been with her the longest, who had always been so obedient, so loyal, so seemingly content with her position. The realization was a betrayal that cut deeper than Qazaethel wanted to admit.
"Why the invitation? I clearly forbid them from touching Eiravelle." Qazaethel said, her voice sharp and cold. It was the voice of the sovereign, not the voice of a worried alpha.
It was the voice of someone who was trying to control her rage, to keep it contained, to not let it consume her. Liv’s hand tightened on her sword, and Arielle took a small step back. They had heard that tone before, and they knew what it meant. It meant that someone was going to pay for what they had done, and it was not going to be pretty.
Dawn shrugged her shoulders. "I have no idea. Saye told me that your highest-ranking concubine told Eiravelle that her child might not take its first breath and a lot of things that you usually can encounter in books that talk about a lot of drama in the harem. I said that because I can’t explain it properly." Dawn said.
Qazaethel was clearly losing her composure. Her eyes flashed with something dangerous, and the air around her seemed to grow hotter. The temperature in the room rose by several degrees, and Liv instinctively took a step back, her hand reached for the sword at her hip. The air crackled with tension, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire palace was holding its breath, waiting for the sovereign to explode.
"Vespera..." Qazaethel breathed the name, she was heaving like she was gonna transform and was going to turn into a dragon and breathe fire everywhere. The name was a curse, a promise of vengeance, a declaration of war.
Vespera was her highest-ranking concubine, the one who had been with her the longest, the one who had always seemed loyal. But loyalty, Qazaethel was learning, was a fragile thing. It could be broken by jealousy, by ambition, by the desire for power.
And Vespera had broken it. She had taken an innocent, pregnant omega and used her as a target for her cruelty, had whispered poison into her ears until Eiravelle believed she was nothing, that her child was nothing.
Qazaethel wanted to march to Vespera’s palace right now, wanted to drag Vespera before her and make her answer for every word she had spoken, every tear she had caused. But she could not do that. Not yet. Eiravelle needed her more than her anger did.
"Eiravelle is paranoid... I think she needs you, Qazaethel. Even just for tonight, she is also pregnant, she can’t do this alone." Dawn said.
Qazaethel realized she’s been working so much that she forgot Eiravelle is still there, heavily pregnant, alone and has no friends, except Dawn and Ruthina, but the harem was still dangerous.
The realization hit her like a physical blow. She had been so consumed by her duties, so focused on the politics and the threats and the endless demands of ruling, that she had neglected the one person who needed her most.
The guilt was a heavy weight in her chest, pressing down on her lungs until she could barely breathe. She had told herself that she was doing this for Eiravelle, that she was securing their future, building a world where their child would be safe.
But what was the point of building a safe world if Eiravelle did not survive long enough to see it? What was the point of protecting her from external threats if she was being destroyed from within?
"I have decided... I will remove her as my concubine. And give her a better position instead." Qazaethel said.
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Liv, Arielle, and Dawn gasped. The reaction was immediate and unanimous—shock, disbelief, and a deep, instinctive opposition. Dawn’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly, and Liv’s hand dropped from her sword as she stared at the sovereign in disbelief.
Even Arielle, who usually tried to remain composed in front of the sovereign, could not hide her shock. She stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly together, her knuckles white with the effort of holding back her instinctive protest.
"Qazaethel, no." Dawn immediately opposed. Her voice was firm, uncompromising, the voice of someone who was not afraid to speak her mind. "If you remove her, they will immediately think she is dirty. She is carrying your child and it won’t be so good." Dawn added.
The logic was sound. The harem was a world of whispers and rumors, and any sign of disfavor from the sovereign would be interpreted as a weakness. Eiravelle would be seen as discarded, as unwanted, as damaged goods. The other concubines would circle her like vultures, and the protection she had enjoyed as the sovereign’s favored concubine would evaporate overnight.
Dawn had seen it happen before, had watched women rise and fall on the whims of the sovereign, and she knew that removing Eiravelle from her position would be the worst thing Qazaethel could do. It would not save her. It would destroy her.
"Yes, Your Majesty. My sister suffered so much, please don’t do that. She never had this kind of peace before where no one tells her she is a jinx or a misfortune. Her title as your favored concubine gave her the protection she needed." Arielle also added.
The words were a reminder of everything Eiravelle had endured—the cruelty of her childhood, the whispers of her parentage, the years of being told she was nothing. The position of favored concubine had given her something she had never had before: safety and security.
A place where she belonged. Arielle’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, and there was a desperate plea in her eyes. She had watched her sister suffer for years, had seen the way the world had tried to break her, and she could not bear to watch it happen again.
Eiravelle had finally found a place where she was protected, where she was valued, where she was loved. If Qazaethel took that away, even with good intentions, Eiravelle would be lost. ℓ.
Qazaethel sighed and nodded. "Then all I have to do is protect her." She said.
The words were simple, but they carried the weight of a vow. She would protect Eiravelle. Not by removing her from her position, not by hiding her away, but by standing between her and anyone who tried to harm her.
She would be the shield that Eiravelle needed, the wall that would not break. Vespera had made a mistake, and she would pay for it. But first, Qazaethel had to make things right with Eiravelle.
"Go now... She needs you. Whatever matters you have to settle tonight, put it aside and go and accompany Eiravelle. Stop being a jerk, please?" Dawn said.
She was not afraid to curse the sovereign because whenever it was private, they got to treat each other as normal creatures, equal to each other. There was no formality between them, no distance. They were just three people who cared about the same omega, trying to figure out how to keep her safe.
Dawn’s words were blunt, but they were also true. Qazaethel had been so focused on her duties that she had forgotten the most important one: being there for the person she loved.
Qazaethel nodded and slowly walked out of the throne room. Her footsteps were heavy, her shoulders are slightly slumped, and for the first time in a long time, she looked like a person who was uncertain, who was afraid, and who did not know what to do.
The weight of her crown had never felt heavier, and the distance between her and Eiravelle had never felt greater. She had so much to make up for, so much to fix, and she did not know where to begin. But she knew she had to try. She had to go to Eiravelle, had to hold her, had to promise her that everything would be alright. And this time, she had to mean it.
"Arielle, you’re dismissed. General Liv, stay." Dawn said firmly.
Arielle bowed down and innocently left. She did not ask why she was being dismissed, did not question the command. She simply obeyed, her footsteps echoing in the corridor as she walked away.
She had done what she could for her sister, had spoken her piece, and now she had to trust that the sovereign would do the right thing. It was not easy to walk away, but she knew she had no choice. The matters between the sovereign and her general were not hers to witness.
"What now?" Liv asked, her smile was growing into a mischievous one.
"Follow me." Dawn said, trying to assert her authority when they both knew well she’ll be the one to beg Liv.
Liv chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and she followed Dawn out of the throne room. The corridors were quiet, the servants having been dismissed for the night, and their footsteps echoed in the silence.
Dawn led Liv through the winding halls, past the gardens and fountains, past the chambers and halls that had witnessed so much history. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting silver patterns on the floor, and the scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the air. Finally, they stopped at a door that was all too familiar.
Dawn opened it and they both entered. It was her private bedchamber, the one she had shared with Liv on her wedding night before everything had changed. A secret that they now shared with the sovereign.
The room was warm, lit by a single lamp on the bedside table, and the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and something else—something that smelled like home. The bed was large, draped in silks and velvets, and the curtains were drawn, casting the room in a soft, intimate glow.
"I miss you." Dawn said.
The words were simple, but they carried a weight that made Liv’s heart ache. They had been so busy lately, so caught up in the chaos of the palace, that they had barely had time for each other.
Dawn had been spending her days with Qazaethel, doing her duties as the Phoenix empress and adjust to her new life, and Liv had been consumed with her duties as the Divine General.
The distance between them had grown without either of them noticing, and now Dawn was reaching out, trying to bridge the gap before it became too wide to cross.
"I miss you too, little potato." Liv replied.
Dawn smiled at the nickname, the one that had been with her since childhood, the one that Liv had given her when she was just a little girl crying over a potato. It was a reminder of simpler times, of a friendship that had survived everything.
Liv had been there for her through the worst moments of her life, had held her hand when she was afraid, had wiped her tears when she cried. And now, in this quiet room, with the moonlight streaming through the curtains and the scent of jasmine in the air, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
"Are you going to make me beg?" Dawn asked, her voice was teasing but her eyes were serious.
"No." Liv said, stepping closer. "I’m going to make you feel wanted."
The words were a promise, one that Liv intended to keep. She reached out and took Dawn’s hand, her grip warm and steady, and pulled her close. Dawn let out a soft sigh, her body was relaxing against Liv’s as the tension of the day finally began to melt away.
The palace was still full of problems, still full of dangers, but for this one night, they could forget all of that. For this one night, they could be just Dawn and Liv, two people who had found each other in the middle of a storm and decided to hold on.