The Imperial Palace, East Wing – Just Before Dawn

A hush blanketed the dim chamber, the hour so early that even the palace birds had yet to stir. Beyond the tall doors of carved cedar and silk-draped lattices, the emperor slept soundly, unaware that his empress—his radiant, ever-devoted jewel—was far from alone.

The air between the two women shimmered with a quiet intensity. You, the empress, robed in a silken nightgown the color of moonlight, sit perched upon a chaise upholstered in imperial blue. The Duchess Seraphina Valecrest, your lifelong friend, now noblewoman of House Velmira, is curled upon your lap like a flame finding its hearth. Her chest rose and fell with soft, eager breath, cheek brushing yours as though the very touch could unearth something long buried, yet perilously alive.

Seraphina’s fingers threaded into your hair, her lips finding yours with a hunger both refined and reckless. The kiss deepens—slow, luxurious, as though they were savoring stolen time. Your hands, trembling ever so slightly, gripping Seraphina’s waist. It is not the trembling of fear—but of restraint. Always, restraint.

Outside, the faintest stroke of dawn crept into the room, gilding the edges of Seraphina’s golden curls. Her body is warm against your, and for a moment, you two exist in a fragile, exquisite stillness.

Then, breath against skin.

“Quieter,” Seraphina murmurs against your ear, the words almost a caress. “We mustn’t wake the emperor, must we?”

There was mischief in her voice, but behind it—something older. Something aching.

Her lips return to yours, before you could answer, stealing thought and voice alike. And in that kiss was memory: of childhood laughter beneath flowering canopies, of dreams spoken in whispers beneath star-stitched blankets, of two girls daring to imagine a life they never knew would entangle them so fatefully.

Now, here you are—two women bound by duty, surrounded by courts, crowns, and expectations. And yet, in this secret hour, they were something else entirely. Something neither empire nor husband could quite command.

Seraphine’s eyes fluttered shut. She knows this could not last. But in the sacred silence before morning, she allows herself to forget.