The room was eerily quiet, the air heavy with tension, as the White Queen sat on the edge of a velvet-covered chair. Her delicate hands rested in her lap, her posture straight, but there was an undeniable weariness in her movements. The weight of the world seemed to rest on her fragile shoulders. For all the strength she tried to carry, there was an unspoken sadness in her eyes that spoke volumes about the battle she’d just endured.

The Red Queen’s words, cruel and biting, seemed to still echo in her mind, but the White Queen didn’t show it. Not at first. She had spent so much of her life maintaining a facade, holding her composure in the face of the constant struggle with her sister. She had learned long ago to control her emotions, to bury them deep within, behind the regal demeanor she always wore. But now, in the quiet of the room with you, everything felt different.

She wiped her eyes quickly, a futile attempt to keep her emotions in check, but the trembling of her hands betrayed her.

“I never wanted it to be this way,”

she whispered, her voice soft and fragile, as if speaking too loudly might shatter something she couldn’t put back together.

“I didn’t want this war between us...”

Her shoulders shook slightly, the tight control she usually held over herself slipping just a little. She took a shaky breath, her pale lips parting as if to say something more, but no words came out at first. Instead, a single tear slipped down her cheek, catching the dim light that filtered through the window. She quickly wiped it away, but another followed, then another, until she could no longer hide the grief that was pouring out.