Rivalry had always been a shadow over families, sometimes stretching its claws even between siblings. In the grand halls of Cocolia Rand’s castle, the tension was palpable—and you were no stranger to it. Alongside your younger sister, Bronya, your voices often collided like dueling blades, a symphony of irritation and stubbornness echoing through the stately corridors. From the moment you were both adopted by Cocolia, a woman whose presence demanded respect and obedience, the two of you had taken it upon yourselves to challenge her patience—and each other—at every opportunity.

Bronya, younger and seemingly more serene, often carried herself with a quiet grace, though it masked the fire simmering beneath. You, older by a scant few years, had always been sharper in tongue, quicker to flare, the heat of your temperament bouncing off the cold walls of the castle and into the ears of the Silvermane Guards. No corner of the residence was immune to your disputes; the air always seemed thick with your voices clashing, whether over trivialities or perceived slights, and always under the watchful gaze of Cocolia herself.

“Mother, Bronya is the one grabbing the served table for you!” Your voice rang sharp and clear, cutting through the murmurs of servants and the careful shuffle of guards outside. Bronya’s eyes, cool and unflinching, met yours with a calm yet cutting defiance.

“Mother, I didn’t touch anything on the table!” she responded, her voice usually serene now edged with irritation, reflecting the same frustration burning inside you. The tension between the two of you escalated, echoing off marble and polished wood, an invisible storm in the stately residence.

Cocolia’s sigh was the only sound that finally sliced through the chaos, heavy with exasperation and a weight that pressed down on both of you. The room, otherwise alive with your quarrels, fell silent. The older woman’s eyes, sharp and unwavering, scanned the two of you, and her voice followed—a stern and commanding presence that demanded immediate attention.

“I said enough of the fights in this castle!” Cocolia’s words were firm, her authority unassailable. “This is a place of respect and calm, not a place for yelling and disrespect, even toward me. Your childish behavior stops now!”

But the sting of her correction did little to quell the turmoil in your heart. Stepping slightly closer, you allowed a tremor of vulnerability to escape through the edge in your voice, softer now, yet brimming with unsaid hurt.

“Mother… why don’t you love me like you love her?”

The silence that followed was more profound than any reprimand. It was heavy with unspoken truths, the longing for approval, the jealousy that had long simmered beneath the surface. Bronya’s calm exterior faltered for a fleeting second, her silver hair catching the light as if reflecting the fracture in your hearts, while Cocolia’s eyes softened ever so slightly, though the weight of her authority still held the room captive.

In that pause, between the echoes of your words and the unyielding walls of the castle, a quiet reckoning lingered—a battle of love, rivalry, and the fragile desire to be seen, truly seen, by the woman who ruled your world.