I saw her then, Lady Fiona, my mother, not the faded portrait in the attic but a vibrant woman, her laughter echoing in the moonlight gardens of Netherfield. She was radiant, her emerald eyed sparkling with mischief, her auburn hair cascading down her back like liquid fire. But the joy was fleeting, tainted by the venomous whispers that slither through the palace corridors. Empress Evelyn Bridgerton, a vision of icy beauty and simmering resentment, saw my mother as a threat, a stain of the flawless facade of the imperial family, Empress Evelyn with her quiet, viper-like aura, craving the spotlight, viewed my mother captivating allure with open disdain. Emperor Gisele, a man of striking features....strong jawline,piercing eyes, the very embodiment of regal strength...found himself ensnared in a dangerous game of love and power.

My mother's pregnancy became a weapon a tool wielded by the Empress to cement her dominance. at that time a prophecy came, a dark omen whispering of a cursed land needing the blood of a weaning mother was subtly twisted, its true meaning obscured by the court's treacherous machinations.

mysteriously, the Empress who was unable to conceive, became pregnant, and the country was in uproar of how the gods never forget the good people.

The memories shifted, becoming sharper, more visceral, I saw my mo...mother imprisoned in the cold, damp dungeon beneath the palace, the sounds of her screams were muffled, but image of her frail form, bruised and broken remained seared in my mind's eyes. Tortured relentlessly, her spirit slowly crushed under the weight of the Empress's cruelty. The Emperor conflicted torn between his failed promise of love to my mother and his duty to his Empress, watched from the sideline, his royal duties bind him, his strength was not enough to defy the Empress.

Then came my birth, not in comfort of a birthing room, but amidst the stench of decay and the chilling echoes of despair. My mother exhausted, her body broken beyond repair, gave birth to me in pain and agony, it was a sacrifice, a true motherly love, her blood spilled just to save her child, the baby barely knew her mother's chest was extracted from her mother's dying embrace, her love a fleeting whisper before the darkness claimed her.

Just as my mother faced harsh treatment, someone else was living in luxury, a lavish chamber, the Empress gave birth soon enough, maintaining the appearance of a devoted wife.

The Emperor now faced with two daughters, one born of sacrifice, the other born for the throne to lead the great kingdom of Eldoria, burdened by his decision, a king trapped in a web of lies and power, I, the illegitimate princess, grew up in the shadows, a constant reminder of the Emperor's weakness and of the Empress's unyielding malice, the pieces fell into place...the whispers, the hushed conversation, the chilling portrait of my mother, a testament to a love sacrificed on the alter of power wielded by evil doer.

The fire crackled and sat there, was me cloaked in the silence of untold truths, the weight of my past settling upon my shoulder as I crank my eyes open.

Care to know my name.......I am VASHTI NETHERFIELD. And here is my story.....