The Winter Prophecy

She had no choice. From the day she was born, the weight of the crown rested on her shoulders. While other children ran freely through the fields, Haya spent her days and nights in the candlelit library. She studied ethics, morality, forms of government, and the structure of social classes to understand the needs of her people. She was raised to be a queen.

All of this seemed to have been in vain, thrown away along with her free will. A month ago, her philosophy lessons had been suspended to make room for sessions with Madame Cowen - lessons on how to be a proper wife.

She would no longer be the monarch she had imagined, but merely the king's companion, a shadow at the throne. A marriage of alliances was no surprise; it was the only kind of relationship she had ever known. Deep down, she had always assumed it would be like this when she married. She just hadn't imagined it would be so hasty, or that she would lose the chance to rule her people as she had always dreamed.

"Is that him?"

She watched from her bedroom window as servants opened the carriage doors for her future husband. Her last memory of him was from a ball years ago, when she saw him sneaking off into the gardens, laughing with his friends. According to the rumors she had heard since then, he had not changed.

"Yes, very cute, don't you think, Your Majesty?"

The seamstress commented with a knowing smile, but Haya rolled her eyes. Yes, he was pretty  - perhaps the most handsome prince she had ever met. But the reputation that preceded him made him utterly despicable.

"As long as he knows how to rule," she replied as the seamstress tightened her corset, compressing her lungs. "I don't care what he looks like."

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

Agatha, her confidante, asked excitedly. For her friend, the most important thing wasn't the wedding or the dress the stylists were helping with - it was the Book Ceremony.

The one tradition Peréz had not been able to corrupt was the opening of the sacred book. Every king had to sign it and swear to uphold the laws that governed the kingdom. Her father had broken at least a hundred of those laws, but Haya was determined to remain true to her oath.

"Yes." A broad smile spread across her face. A smile that startled the servants, who had never seen her show such enthusiasm when talking about her future husband.

"Tomorrow I'll officially be queen."

"But the coronation is after the wedding," one of the maids commented.

"Yes, but legally she becomes queen tomorrow," her friend defended. "That's why I'm grateful to be the youngest daughter. Donna worries about laws while I'm free to explore the four seas."

She threw herself onto the huge bed with a happiness Haya could never feel.

"Not everyone has this kind of freedom."

Haya turned to the mirror to look at the tight dress. It felt like a trap of satin and lace, slowly suffocating her.

"I told you, if you want to run away, we'll leave tomorrow. We could go to the far ends of Gehon or cross the Asher Mountains," Agatha offered, jumping on the bed as she suggested tempting destinations. "Come on, Hay!"

"It sounds tempting." Once again, Haya looked out the window at her future, at meeting his family. "But I can't."

"Think of your marriage. You'll be very happy."

The seamstress showed her the sketch of her wedding dress, and seeing such a tangible representation of her future quickened her heartbeat.

"Meredith... can you loosen the corset?"

She asked, her voice deep and tense.

The seamstress hesitated, but complied, loosening the laces. Still, it felt like the air was escaping her lungs, and the invisible weight on her chest only grew heavier.

"Princess? Are you all right?"

Haya didn't answer. Her vision began to blur and the room around her seemed to shrink. Before she could explain or ask for help, she fled, ignoring the stares of guards, servants, and advisors. No one dared stop her, but all witnessed her desperation.

She tried to breathe, but she couldn't.

The air seemed to disappear more and more. The oxygen in her kingdom hadn't been pure for a long time, but it wasn't pollution that was causing this. She was on the verge of collapse when she suddenly bumped into someone who was walking absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Hey!"

The collision knocked her to the ground, and the guards immediately approached, hands on their swords.

"I'm so sorry!"

The young man said, ignoring the danger and kneeling down to help her up.

"Don't you know how to look where you're going?"

Haya shouted, irritated, but her breathing finally began to stabilize. The young man, however, remained still. He froze, his eyes fixed on her, as if he realized too late who was standing before him.

"You're the princess," he murmured in shock. "My God, I knocked down the princess!" He abruptly let go of her hands, causing Haya to fall back to the ground. This time he fell beside her, trying to catch her at the last second.

Haya could have reacted in any number of ways. She could have ordered him arrested, exiled, or punished. But as she looked into the stranger's eyes, she felt an unexpected surge of calm, like a wave gently breaking on the shore.

"I am Haya."

She sat on the stone floor, laughing for the first time in a long time, and held out her hand to him.

"Esra of Talya, at your service, Your Majesty."

He accepted the informal greeting, but quickly averted his eyes from hers.

"Could you help me up?" She asked, still laughing. "What are you doing on this side of the palace? Are you lost?"

Haya smiled, momentarily forgetting her role as princess.

"A little. I came to enlist, but this place is a maze."

The young shepherd had just seen death pass before his eyes. But instead of fear, he felt something else.

"You should be looking for General Silas. He's usually in the West Wing."

Haya rarely felt strong emotions.

A queen must be balanced and treat everyone equally, her teacher of governance had taught her. Yet everyone there knew that she had never looked at a young man the way she was looking at him.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

His eyes lingered on her as he took his leave.

"Hay, are you okay?"

Agatha found her friend smiling in the distance.

"Yes, of course."

She watched the boy disappear down the corridors.

"Shall we? Everyone is waiting for you."

Indeed, the luncheon was a celebration in her honor and that of her future husband. Though modest by royal standards, the festivities still exuded the grandeur befitting a noblewoman.

At the top of the grand staircase, her father waited with a warm smile, ready to escort her. Peréz, of all people, was the most enthusiastic about the marriage.

"My princess," he said.

He leaned down to kiss her on the head and took her in an embrace. Haya, the only daughter and heir to the throne, would be the ruler of Akrida and Ruah.

"I present His Royal Highness, King Peréz Ethel of Akrida." The herald's voice echoed through the hall. All present, from the high nobles to the servants, bowed deeply in respect. "And Princess Haya Ethel of Akrida."

Applause and the release of doves filled the room. The protocols strictly adhered to royal tradition, but everything changed when the envoys from the neighboring kingdom arrived.

"What's happening?"

Haya asked her father, surprised and unable to comprehend the unfolding events.

Dozens of servants took up positions at the gates, and the heralds' staffs struck the ground in ceremonial fashion, beginning a theatrical display designed to entertain the guests.

The people of Ruah, unlike those of Akrida, possessed elemental gifts. They made birds fly, created whirlwinds, and sent flowers swirling around the couples as the great gates were reopened.

"King Esteban Obadiah of Ruah and Queen Elsa Obadiah of Ruah," the herald announced. The monarchs were older and took their places beside Peréz, though their appearance seemed untouched by time, as if they hadn't aged a day. "And Prince Leonay Obadiah of Ruah."

The heir appeared behind his parents, dressed in sapphire-encrusted robes that sparkled under the light of the chandeliers. Despite his perfect appearance, his disinterested gaze clashed with the solemnity of the occasion.

"It's just Leo, Hudson. Leo," he corrected a servant who didn't heed him, maintaining his formal posture.

"Esteban, Elsa, it's a pleasure to see you again," Peréz said warmly, approaching the old neighbors and embracing them as if they were lifelong friends. Once they had been, though that had been many decades ago.

"You must be Haya," Elsa said with an appraising look. "How you've grown... It seems like only yesterday I saw you in Adela's arms."

"It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."

Haya curtsied gracefully, following the strict protocol she had been trained in.

"Come here."

Ignoring the formalities, the queen enveloped her in an emotional embrace that took Haya by surprise.

"She's very happy, wherever she is." Peréz rarely spoke of his late wife, and his emotion startled his daughter. "Knowing her, the way she was, she would have scheduled the wedding for tomorrow."

Despite the friendly banter, the engaged couple showed little enthusiasm.

As the kings exchanged pleasantries, Haya struggled to keep her composure. Her eyes, however, couldn't help but wander to the prince. He was as handsome as rumor had it, but the air of disinterest and arrogance that surrounded him was enough to dispel any admiration.

The future king paid no attention to his surroundings. He stood still as if utterly bored. When Esteban nudged him, the prince stepped forward and theatrically took Haya's hand.

"We will be very happy, my love," he declared.

Repeating a line probably written by his mother, he kissed her hands. The gesture only made Haya reconsider her friend's suggestion to flee.

His hands were cold and Haya felt no spark of emotion, so different from what she had experienced earlier that day. The uncomfortable silence that followed seemed endless until she tried to break it with a suggestion.

"Would you like to dance?"

She asked, trying to break the awkward atmosphere.

"Of course, my love."

As they danced, Haya once again felt breathless - not from the prince who controlled his nation's economy with oxygen, but from the crushing sense of emptiness. Every step of the dance felt rehearsed, devoid of passion, connection, or joy. The curious looks and whispered conversations around them only deepened their unease.

"Hey, do you know where I can find a sword? My father will kill me if he finds out I lost mine," the prince said, the only thing he said during the entire dance.

"How did you lose your sword?"

She asked, genuinely curious.

"I left it in the carriage with my friends, and according to King Esteban, a man without a sword is unacceptable."

"Ask one of the servants. They know the villages better than I do."

"Thank you."

Silence again.

"So this is what awaits me," she thought, struggling to keep a fake smile on her face.

When the music ended, Haya was immediately surrounded by advisors and servants, all eager to please her. But her thoughts were far away. She found herself thinking about her brief encounter with Esra and the genuine smile he had managed to elicit from her.

A world of lies. And she was part of it.