The palace rejoiced.
Soft laughter once again echoed through gilded halls, carried by servants whose smiles had returned after months of mourning. Hope, fragile yet radiant, bloomed like spring after a merciless winter.
Because the Queen was with child.
And so was Merideth.
"How wondrous fate can be," nobles whispered.
"Two blossoms growing beneath the same sky."
"Surely a sign of fortune."
Ophelia believed it too.
Because Ophelia believed in goodness.
Always.
Endlessly.
Dangerously.
"You must take better care of yourself," Merideth said gently one afternoon, her voice warm with sisterly affection.
They sat together near the sunlit balcony, golden light cascading across delicate porcelain and silver trays.
Between them—
Tea.
"My people drink this for safe birth," Merideth continued softly.
"A tradition passed down through generations."
"It strengthens both mother and child."
Ophelia's eyes brightened.
"How lovely…"
Her fingers curled delicately around the cup.
Trusting.
Unquestioning.
Merideth smiled.
Tender.
Perfect.
"Yes…"
A whisper.
Barely audible.
"…how lovely indeed."
The tea was fragrant.
Floral.
Deceptively gentle.
And laced with poison.
Not death.
Never death.
Something far crueler.
A rare flower.
Beautiful.
Deadly.
Silent.
A toxin that did not kill its victims.
Only drained them.
Slowly.
Relentlessly.
Unnoticed.
Days passed.
Weeks followed.
Months slipped quietly into time's indifferent embrace.
Ophelia drank faithfully.
Every morning.
Every evening.
Every day for nine endless months.
At first—
No one noticed.
Then—
Whispers began.
"The Queen looks tired…"
"She seems weaker…"
"Perhaps pregnancy weighs heavily upon her…"
But Merideth was always there.
Always concerned.
Always attentive.
"It is perfectly normal," she soothed gently.
"My people experience the same."
"Paleness is a sign of the body adjusting."
And Ophelia believed.
Because Ophelia always believed.
By the seventh month—
The change was undeniable.
Her radiant glow had faded.
Her delicate complexion now ghostly pale.
Her once vibrant energy reduced to fragile stillness.
Even the maids grew uneasy.
"Your Majesty… perhaps we should summon the royal physician?"
Ophelia smiled faintly.
Weakly.
"…Merideth says this is natural."
Merideth's fingers tightened subtly around her teacup.
Smile unwavering.
Eyes unreadable.
"Yes," she murmured softly.
"Entirely natural."
By the ninth month—
The palace no longer whispered.
It worried.
The Queen moved slowly.
Painfully.
Her beauty untouched…
Yet dimmed by something invisible and deeply wrong.
That evening—
The King arrived.
Concern shadowed his features the moment he entered her chambers.
Ophelia sat near the window, moonlight illuminating her fragile frame.
She looked…
Like fading light.
"…Ophelia."
His voice was tight.
Unsteady.
She turned slowly.
Smiling softly despite exhaustion.
"My King…"
But the smile did not ease his dread.
He crossed the room quickly, kneeling before her.
Fingers lifting her chin gently.
"…You are pale."
Ophelia's laugh was faint.
Breathless.
"Pregnancy is unkind to beauty, it seems…"
His eyes darkened.
Because this was not mere exhaustion.
Not mere fatigue.
Something deeper.
Something terrifying.
Before he could speak—
Ophelia's body stiffened.
A sharp gasp tore from her lips.
Pain.
Sudden.
Violent.
Unforgiving.
"…Ah—!"
The King froze.
Heart slamming violently against his ribs.
"Ophelia?"
Her fingers gripped the armrest.
Knuckles trembling.
Breathing fractured.
"…It hurts…"
Fear surged instantly.
Raw.
Primal.
"Where?!"
But Ophelia could not answer.
Because another wave of pain crashed through her like a blade twisting mercilessly.
Then—
The King saw it.
Crimson.
A single drop against marble floors.
Then another.
Then more.
His world stopped.
"…No."
The whisper barely existed.
Horror flooding his veins.
"DOCTOR!"
The scream shattered the chamber.
Echoing violently through palace walls.
"DOCTOR!!"
Servants panicked.
Guards rushed.
Footsteps thundered like war drums of impending catastrophe.
The King caught Ophelia as her strength faltered.
Terror blazing in his eyes.
Hands trembling violently.
"Stay with me!"
Ophelia's vision blurred.
Pain swallowing breath.
"My… King…"
Darkness crept.
Silent.
Relentless.
And somewhere nearby—
Merideth stood frozen.
Hand pressed against her lips.
Eyes wide with perfectly sculpted horror.
Yet beneath that mask—
Something cold…
Something monstrous…
Something victorious…
Watched fate unfold.