Irene's secret

Irene awoke slowly, as if sleep had not been a comfort, but merely a temporary escape from pain.

She lay on the cold floor, in the same spot where she had collapsed the night before—after leaving the bathroom, after the tears, after she broke down… after she made a decision in her heart that she hadn't yet dared to name.

Her eyes were half-lidded, her eyelids heavy as though they bore mountains. She tried to lift her body, but pain struck her back like a knife.

She gasped softly and placed her hand on her side… then slowly pulled it away, discovering a deep purple hue spreading across her skin.

Bruises.

Everywhere. Her shoulder, her arm, her chest, her waist… as if every inch of her body had screamed in silence the night before, and no one had heard.

She crawled toward the edge of the bed, gripped the blanket, and pushed herself to her feet. Step by slow step, she walked to the mirror.

And when she saw herself—

She froze.

Her once-fair skin had become a canvas of blue and violet.

Her neck bore a clear red mark—fingerprints.

Her lips were cracked, her eyes swollen from crying.

She stared at her reflection, but she didn't recognize the girl in the mirror.

And then… she broke.

She broke with a sound she had never allowed herself to release before.

A muffled sob at first, then a deep, guttural weeping from a soul torn to shreds.

She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees, crying as if her entire life had shattered the night before.

"Mama… Mama… I'm sorry… Forgive me…"

She didn't even know what she was apologizing for—but she felt like she had betrayed something. Something she should have protected… and didn't.

After an unknown amount of time, she rose slowly, changed her clothes with robotic silence, and put on something loose to hide her ruined body.

Then she sat in her usual chair by the window and pulled the curtain slightly open, allowing a single ray of light to pierce through—harsh, but real.

And there… in that silence…

The memories came crashing in.

The first time she had entered this palace, she was not a noble girl.

She was a traumatized orphan, broken in both eye and heart.

Eleven years ago…

Screams were the first thing to tear through the sky.

Little Irene, with her innocent childlike features, clung to her mother's hand, crying and trembling as soldiers surrounded the tiny cottage where Louisa's family had sought refuge after years in hiding.

Her grandfather was the first to fall.

A sword straight through the heart… they didn't even let him speak.

Then a guard moved toward the grandmother, who trembled in the corner, her eyes fixed on her granddaughter.

"Nooooo!!"

Louisa's scream ripped the air as she lunged forward, unarmed, without thought.

She grabbed the soldier by the chest and hit him with every ounce of grief, rage, and desperation she had.

"Leave them alone! Leave them be!"

But another guard seized her from behind and kicked her hard in the side. She collapsed, gasping for air.

She got up.

She crawled.

But they were faster.

They grabbed her, dragged her, and one of them struck her across the face, blood gushing from her nose.

Irene screamed and screamed:

"Mama!! No!! MAMAAAAAAAA!!"

Her tears mingled with the rain that began to pour from the skies.

One of the soldiers raised his sword… and Louisa looked at her daughter.

Blood dripped from her lips. She could barely stand.

But she looked—long and deep—a farewell in her eyes.

"Irene…"

That was the last word she ever heard from her mother.

Then… the sword struck.

One scream… then silence.

Irene's eyes widened.

Her body froze.

Everything around her stopped.

Suddenly, she no longer screamed.

She no longer moved.

Everything inside her shattered.

She saw the blood erupt from her mother's neck.

She saw the body fall… and the head roll.

But she didn't scream.

Her eyes remained fixed on her mother's face, which, for a brief moment, still looked at her… then faded.

That was when the shock began.

The soldiers paused for a moment, then one of them looked at the child.

– "And what about this one?"

Another replied:

– "Shall we finish her like the others?"

But the commander, a large and ruthless man, raised a royal decree:

– "The king only ordered the heads of three: Louisa and her parents. He said nothing about the child."

– "But…"

– "I said leave her. We'll take her back… the king will decide her fate."

---

They tied her—but gently. There was no need for force.

She walked with them like a body without a soul.

Her eyes still open… but seeing nothing.

Two days later, the girl arrived in the capital.

The palace loomed before her—vast, dark, with blue royal banners draping its columns, as though hiding countless trapped souls.

The iron gates creaked open slowly, the sound like chains dragging across dead men's chests.

Irene was taken from the carriage, draped in a gray cloak. Her face remained exposed, pale, her eyes still glassy, as if she saw nothing of this world.

She entered the palace courtyard, surrounded by faceless guards.

They reached the main hall. The grand doors opened.

A bitter cold struck her face.

She entered.

At the end of the hall… sat the King.

King Arxen.

Imposing, clad in deep black, he did not smile, nor move anything but his eyes.

Eyes of ice—still and unreadable. Not kind, not angry… just unreadable.

The guards bowed low.

The girl stepped forward, without will, stopping a few paces from the throne.

Silence.

Even the beating of her heart could no longer be heard.

The king recognized her immediately.

"So… you were pregnant all that time, Louisa. You never cease to surprise me." he thought to himself.

The king stayed silent for a long time, then spoke in his calm, slow voice:

– "What is your name?"

No reply.

She remained still.

Her eyes fixed on something invisible, as if she hadn't heard.

He repeated his question, this time with a sharper gaze, yet still calm:

– "Your name?"

Still silence.

A guard stepped forward and bowed:

– "My lord… she hasn't said a word the whole journey. We tried talking to her, but she might just be… afraid."

The royal advisor stepped beside the throne and spoke, looking at the girl:

– "She doesn't look afraid, Your Majesty. More like in a state of psychological shock—like some of our war veterans. Frankly, if she is truly the traitor's daughter… we'd be better off eliminating her too."

The king did not turn toward him.

"No. Let her live."

He paused, then added:

– "I'll decide what to do with her later."

He looked into Irene's eyes directly and muttered:

– "She might prove useful to the crown one day…"

He motioned to the guards:

– "Take her to an isolated wing—away from the main palace. No one is to see her or approach her without my command. Bathe her, clean her, feed her… then leave her alone."

The guards bowed:

– "As you command, Sire."

The advisor praised him:

– "As wise and discerning as ever, Your Majesty."

Moments later, the head guard approached and reported:

– "The order has been carried out, sire. The three heads are in our possession."

King Arxen nodded slowly and said in a voice cold as frost:

– "Hang them in the town square. Let the people see that justice never forgets—even after eleven years."

The advisor began writing, and the king asked:

– "Did you write the statement as I instructed?"

– "Yes, sire. It declares that the fugitive spy has been captured and executed, along with her accomplices."

The king paused, then added:

– "Add one more thing."

The advisor looked up, questioning.

The king continued:

– "Add that despite the betrayal, I chose to adopt the child born of that woman.

Write that I did it out of mercy—for the girl bears no guilt—and ask the people to understand the decision."

A faint smirk crossed the advisor's face as the king added:

– "Write it in gentle language… words that paint their king as noble."

– "Let history remember me as a just king. Let the world forget this disgraceful scandal tied to my name… and instead believe I saved this… filth."

The advisor bowed:

– "As you wish, my lord."

---

That very day…

The three heads were hung in the public square, high above the crowd.

Royal banners fluttered above them, and beneath them, an official decree read:

> "The traitor Louisa was captured after eleven years of evasion, and justice was duly served upon her and those who harbored her.

But, in his wisdom and mercy, His Majesty King Arxen has chosen to adopt her young daughter and grant her a name among the royal family—

for she bears no guilt in the crimes of her mother.

His Majesty calls upon his loyal subjects to respect his decision and maintain silence—for the dignity of the crown and the reputation of our realm among nations.

Glory to the King. Shame to the traitors."

---

But behind the curtain… the truth was uglier than words could capture.

The king had not saved Irene. He had spared her for political utility.

And because he knew people believe what is written more than what is whispered behind locked doors…

He wrote his own history—on the corpses of the dead, and upon a child who would never forget.

His plan succeeded.

He won the people's sympathy—even as political opponents objected to giving royal status to the daughter of a "spy".

But they were silenced swiftly.

---

Led quietly by the guards, their steps slow, as if they carried a shadow, not a girl.

They opened the door to a small, isolated wing of the palace.

The servants were ordered to prepare her. Two women in their thirties entered, and as soon as they saw her face, whispers passed between trembling lips:

– "Is that…?"

– "She looks just like her… No doubt she's Louisa's daughter… she worked with us years ago. Quiet, too."

But the child didn't lift her eyes.

She stood still in the middle of the room, frozen.

Two maids approached carefully, bathed her, dressed her, and draped her frail body in a cotton robe.

One of them tried to smile and ask:

– "Would you like some soup?"

But Irene neither responded nor nodded. She didn't refuse either.

They understood the message… and quietly left.

---

Days passed.

The king officially declared that he intended to "give the girl a chance at life" and that she would undergo "psychological and physical rehabilitation in secrecy."

But the truth was clear—

He was grooming her… preparing her for a future reveal as part of his grand scheme:

To appear before the world as a merciful, noble, and balanced king.

---

To be continued…