A ROYAL OBSESSION

In the kingdom of Vylonia, news had rapidly spread that the king was seeking his bride, igniting a frenzy among the citizens who realized that anyone—regardless of status—could be chosen.

Although no one had ever laid eyes on him, the allure of becoming queen of such a vast kingdom was magnetic. The only thing they knew about him was his ominous title, the Nightbringer. He was feared and respected, yet many young maidens yearned for the opportunity to be the future queen, captivated by visions of wealth and power.

The process was straightforward: painters were dispatched across the kingdom to create portraits of maidens aged 18 to 20.

The king would select the one who captured his attention, resulting in a wave of gifts sent to her home and a swift wedding that followed, all part of Vylonia's unique tradition. There were no dances or elaborate showcases; the selection was purely based on captured beauty.

Excitement buzzed through the air, particularly among the young maidens, as they realized that winning would bring immense wealth and influence to their families. This was the king's chance to find a bride, and everyone was buzzed with anticipation.

However, Maya didn't share in the excitement. Unlike the others, she was not enthralled by the prospect of becoming queen, knowing full well she would not be chosen among the countless women vying for attention. Her heart belonged to someone else—Peter. They had grown up together, and he had transformed into a striking young man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He had confessed his love for her, promising that one day when he was prosperous, he would take her away from this life into one where she would never have to lift a finger. If given the choice, she would only want to be Peter's wife; he was the only one who mattered.

Maya shook her head, dismissing the thought. The king's identity was shrouded in mystery; he could very well be a portly, unattractive man, and she refused to remain trapped in a marriage like that.

The reality was clear: she would likely be overlooked in favor of other women.

It was early morning, and as usual, she had risen at dawn to tackle her household chores before the sun had risen fully. As she cleaned the window, she remained vigilant, knowing her aunt's sharp eye would catch even the slightest imperfection. She refused to waste time redoing tasks; instead, she focused on completing them to Eliana's standards.

Amidst her work, she heard the door creak open. Turning, she saw Mariana stroll into the sitting room, yawning and disheveled.

"Where's my food?" she demanded, arms crossed and an irritated look on her face.

"In the kitchen," Maya replied coolly, returning her gaze to the window as she worked. She heard the derisive scoff from Mariana as she stomped toward the kitchen.

"Have you brushed this morning, Mariana, or do you plan to eat with a stench on your breath?" Maya's tone was steady, though it sparked irritation in Mariana.

"Just shut up and mind your own business. You have plenty of work, yet you talk like you have time to spare," Mariana shot back, exasperated.

Maya glanced over, undeterred. "I'm just concerned you might infect everyone else if you don't take proper care of yourself," she stated matter-of-factly.

Mariana was ready to retort but paused, glancing around the kitchen. "Don't tell me I have to serve myself?" she snapped, eyes blazing at Maya.

Maya remained silent.

"Didn't you hear me? I'm speaking to you! Come and serve my food!" Mariana barked.

Maya stood her ground, refusing to comply without regard for Mariana's tone.

"I'm busy with work, my lady, and my hands are dirty. If you want food, you'll have to serve yourself," Maya stated, her voice firm though it had a sarcastic edge to it, her calm demeanor only amplified Mariana's mounting frustration. She grumbled, ready to confront Maya when the door to her parents ' room swung open, revealing Eliana.

"What's all the noise about?" Eliana inquired, stifling a yawn.

"Maya refused to serve my food, insisting I do it myself!" Mariana exclaimed, her anger boiling over.

"I simply mentioned that my hands are covered in dirt from cleaning the windows, and that she could serve herself since her hands are clean. How is that unreasonable?" Maya replied, raising an eyebrow at both Eliana and Mariana. Eliana recognized Maya's point but found her tone disrespectful. She huffed and looked away from the brat, Maya.

"I'll serve you, sweetheart. Don't be upset," Eliana said, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder while casting an irritated glance at Maya.

As she walked toward the kitchen, she couldn't help but mumble, "That idiot Peter has influenced her, and now she thinks she can talk back." It was frustrating to see the same Maya who used to be compliant now challenging her, and while Eliana was annoyed, she knew retaliating wouldn't solve anything.

Just as silence settled over the house, a knock on the door broke the tension. "I'll get it," Mariana shot a sharp look at Maya before marching toward the door. She unlocked it and her gaze fell on two men—one who appeared to be a bodyguard and another of average height.

"Good morning, fair lady. We are from the king, and I assume you understand our purpose here?" the man inquired.

Mariana's eyes widened with excitement as she took in their presence, barely suppressing a squeal. The painter had arrived.

"Just a moment, please," she replied, and the man nodded. She closed the door slightly and turned to her mother. "They're here! They're here!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with anticipation.

Eliana mouthed, "Who?"

"The king's men!" Mariana whispered eagerly, and Eliana nearly dropped the plate she was holding.

"What are you waiting for? Go get dressed, put on some makeup, and wear a nice dress! You look homeless!" she hissed urgently.

Mariana dashed away, and Eliana shook her head in disbelief. Meanwhile, Maya watched their exchange, noting that Mariana's earlier hunger had vanished with the arrival of the king's men. Eliana, shifting gears, opened the door with a bright smile for the king's men. "Please come in. The Winter family is honored by your presence," she said, ushering them inside while internally squealing with excitement. Her daughter needed to look impeccable, so the king would be captivated, and Eliana wouldn't stop until Mariana was the queen.

*****

The king's men entered the house, and Eliana directed them to the couch, instructing them to take their seats. With a confident smile, she said, "I'll be right back," before striding across the sitting room to meet Maya by the window.

"Stop cleaning the windows. This isn't the time for that," Eliana commanded, glaring at Maya, who turned to her with a puzzled frown.

"What do you mean, Aunt? You asked me to clean the windows yesterday," Maya replied, clearly confused and defensive.

"Be quiet!" Eliana placed a finger on her lips, her glare sharpening. "Forget the windows. Prepare tea for our guests—the sweet tea you make. They must leave this house satisfied! Now go!" She ordered, urgency in her tone.

Maya shot back almost immediately, "So I don't have to go back to cleaning the windows just because you said so?"

Eliana's eyes narrowed as she struggled to rein in her rising anger. "Yes, exactly! Now go!" she insisted, shooing Maya away by taking the bucket and napkin and pushing her toward the door. Maya complied, but Eliana muttered under her breath, "That girl..."

Eliana returned her attention to the bucket and napkin, disposing of them before seeking out her daughter.

Just then, Mariana emerged from her room, transformed into a vision of beauty in an elegant gown and jewelry, her hair perfectly styled. With confidence, she settled onto one of the couches, ready to pose for the painter.

Eliana stood next to the painter, watching with satisfaction as the scene unfolded. Her husband, previously bedridden, had been dragged into the sitting room, then the bodyguard, whose gaze remained fixed on a point in the distance.

The painter worked swiftly, his brush capturing Mariana's features with precision. When he finally declared himself finished, Eliana clapped her hands in excitement. The painter shot her a pointed look, causing her smile to falter. "You paint beautifully," she quickly added to regain her composure.

She turned to Mariana, eyes shining. "It's perfect!" After a grueling hour, Mariana was relieved to finally stretch her limbs.

"Next person," the painter announced, looking over at Eliana.

Puzzled, she responded, "There is no next person."

"The maiden who served us that delicious tea is next," he replied, his tone firm.

Eliana scoffed, "Maya? You can't be serious. She looks like a slave, and the king wouldn't be interested in her. I won't let you waste your time."

In the kitchen, Maya heard her aunt's remark but brushed it off, accustomed to such comments by now. Continuing her chore, she scrubbed the floor absently, refusing to react.

"Are you the one to dictate our tasks? The king ordered that every maiden be painted," the painter shot back, his eyes narrowing.

Eliana had no retort. "Fine, I'll fetch her," she conceded, even as she dreaded the task ahead. Entering the kitchen, she found Maya still scrubbing, and her frustration flared. "Get up. Get ready for your painting," she commanded, arms crossed defiantly.

Without looking up, Maya replied, "I don't want to."

Eliana's shock quickly morphed into irritation. "You think you can refuse? We're talking about the king here! You don't have a say in this. Get up and go get painted. You'll just be wasting time otherwise," she exclaimed sharply.

Maya clenched her jaw, tossing the brush aside and locking eyes with her aunt. Eliana was taken aback by the defiance but quickly masked her surprise. "I love Peter and want to marry him. If I'm not going to be chosen, I don't see why I should get painted," Maya asserted firmly.

"This is reckless," Eliana hissed, crouching down to grab Maya's arm harshly.

"Even Peter wouldn't defy this order. You're putting us all at risk—do you want to see him executed!?" she demanded angrily.

Maya hesitated, the seriousness of Eliana's face sinking in. "Just go and get painted," Eliana said through gritted teeth, yanking her arm and forcing her to stand. Pushing her out of the kitchen, she made it clear that there would be no more arguing about it.

Maya steadied herself as she stepped out of the kitchen, keeping her expression neutral. As she strode into the sitting room to have her portrait painted, she noticed the smirk on Mariana's face and the clear disdain from her uncle.

She looked like rubbish right now, but who cares? She wasn't going to get chosen anyway.

Maya took her seat and the painter without wasting another second began to paint her features.