Wings of Ambition Shackled by Fate

Back in Valeria's room, she stepped out of the bath, feeling hollow and defeated. Everything felt hopeless, and she didn't know what to do anymore. Numbness settled over her, a disconnect from her own reality. She wanted to forget it all, to wake up from this nightmare that felt never-ending. But as much as she tried to push it to the back of her mind, the fear and helplessness seeped back in. Alone in this room, not knowing what would happen next, no longer holding the reins of her own life—it was enough to make her feel as if she was slowly losing her sanity. But she couldn't let that happen. She had to stay grounded, to survive this hellish ordeal.

She took a deep breath, deciding to take things one step at a time. First, she needed something to wear. Then she would plan… something. Anything to keep her mind occupied. Wrapping herself in a plush bathrobe that hung in the lavish bathroom, she ventured into the grand bedroom. The luxury and opulence felt almost mocking, like a gilded cage meant to trap her. She'd half-expected the king to throw her in a dungeon, and the sight of this ornate, spacious room surprised her when she had calmed down enough to take it in.

Valeria crossed over to the massive wooden wardrobe opposite the king-sized bed. Her eyes widened when she opened it. The wardrobe was stuffed with extravagant, ornate gowns, each more lavish and revealing than the last. Normally, she'd never wear dresses like these. The very sight of them filled her with rage and helplessness. It was clear—he wanted her to look like some prize, a trophy to show off. But she didn't want to be anyone's trophy. Not even her clothes were within her control anymore.

In a sudden fit of anger, Valeria yanked the gowns from their hangers, tearing them apart, one by one. Fabric flew as she shredded each dress, venting all her frustration, fear, and helplessness into every rip and tear. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she destroyed the garments, her fury giving way to despair. When she'd torn through nearly all of them, she sank to her knees, her sobs wracking her body. It felt like all she ever did now was cry. Because, in truth, that was all she could do.

A knock on the door made her freeze. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her breathing quickened. Was it him? Had the king returned to finish what he started the night before? Panic gripped her, and her breaths came shallow and fast, gasping for air that wouldn't come. She was so wrapped in her terror that she didn't notice the two figures who entered the room and closed the door quietly behind them.

A gentle touch on her shoulder snapped her out of her panic, and a choked scream escaped her lips.

"My lady! My lady! Please, calm down…" The muffled voice slowly broke through the fog of her mind, and as she looked up, she saw the two maids from before standing over her. Relief flooded her, and a shaky sob escaped her lips.

"It's… not the king…" she mumbled to herself, feeling her heart and breathing gradually slow. The two maids stared at her, bewildered, as they took in the sight of her on the floor, surrounded by shredded fabric and tear-streaked cheeks.

"My lady, are you… are you alright?" the older maid asked, her voice soft and motherly.

Valeria nodded weakly, swallowing back the lump in her throat. After a few deep breaths, she managed to speak. "Yes… yes, I'm fine. What did you need?"

"We brought your breakfast, my lady, and we were sent to help you prepare for the day," the younger maid replied. Valeria nodded again, still unfocused, as if trying to steady herself after the storm of panic that had consumed her moments before. She hated herself for the fear that had overtaken her, hated how vulnerable she'd felt. The mere thought of the king returning to her chambers sent an icy shiver down her spine.

"Do you… do you have any other gowns for me? Something simpler?" Valeria asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

The older maid's face softened with sympathy. "I'm sorry, my lady, but we'll need to ask the king's permission before we can provide you with anything different."

Valeria let out a bitter, broken laugh. "Of course. I didn't realize the king was so invested in fashion."

The younger maid, oblivious to the sting of her words, added, "Not exactly, my lady. His instructions were that anything you request must first be reported to him before it's considered."

Valeria's face fell further, the spark of defiance dimming in her eyes. The older maid, sensing the despair settling over her, quickly intervened. "Beth, go ask the king if simpler gowns may be brought for the lady," she instructed, giving the younger maid—Beth—a gentle nudge. Beth nodded, curtsied to Valeria, and hurried out of the room.

As the door closed behind her, the older maid turned back to Valeria with a comforting smile. "Come, my lady. Let me help you."

She extended a hand, guiding Valeria to her feet and over to the dressing table. Valeria sank down on the stool as the maid picked up a hairbrush and began to gently untangle her damp hair. The rhythmic strokes of the brush were soothing, calming the chaotic thoughts in her mind.

"How are you feeling, my lady?" Gloria asked in a careful, soft tone.

Valeria didn't want to delve into her emotions; she wasn't sure she could put them into words without breaking down again. Instead, she latched onto a distraction. "I never asked… what's your name?"

"Like you might have heard earlier, the younger maid's name is Beth," Gloria replied, her tone gentle. "And my name is Gloria."

"Do you… have family, Gloria?" Valeria's voice was distant, fragile.

"I have a daughter," Gloria said quietly. "She's about your age. My husband passed away three years ago."

Valeria's lips pressed into a thin line. "Do you pity me because of that? Do you see your own daughter in my place?"

Gloria paused for a moment, meeting Valeria's gaze in the mirror. "Yes, my lady. I fear for my daughter when I see someone like you—a young woman, strong and fiery—end up in a situation like this, so broken." Her voice was steady, yet filled with quiet conviction. "I hoped you would fight, that you would find a way to survive and come out stronger. Because if someone like you cannot rise above this, how could any of us hope to stand against men as cruel as the king?"

Valeria swallowed, her chest tightening. Gloria's words stirred something deep within her, igniting a spark that had nearly been extinguished.

"But, of course, you could stay here and cry all day, accept your role as the king's obedient wife, and bear him children." Gloria's tone was firm, unyielding, as she continued to brush Valeria's hair. "It's your choice, my lady."

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Valeria felt the fire rekindle in her gaze. She would not be broken so easily. Not yet.