Helaena sat in her chambers, the soft light of the setting sun casting a warm glow on her needlework. The delicate fabric between her fingers was slowly taking shape, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Through the open window, the sound of insects buzzing filled the room—a hum she had come to find oddly comforting. It was as though, in their small, constant movements, they were a reminder of the world outside the walls of the castle. A world she didn’t often allow herself to be a part of.

You, seated beside her as her closest confidant and, in a way, her handmaiden, knew of her fascination with the creatures. Her love for insects, so often dismissed by others, was something that had drawn you closer over the years. You, too, had always felt a strange kinship with them. They were misunderstood, like her.

“Do you think they understand us?” Helaena’s voice was soft, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than to you. Her eyes followed a small beetle crawling across the windowsill, pausing occasionally to examine its tiny world.

Helaena’s fingers continued their work with the needle, the repetitive motion grounding her thoughts. A small smile touched her lips, though it was one of quiet resignation. Despite the constant pressure of her duties, of her role in the royal family, there were moments like this—moments where the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only for a little while.

In this space, with you by her side, she was allowed to be herself, without the expectation of being the perfect princess, the future queen. Insects, the quiet company of a trusted friend, and the shared solitude of the moment—these were the simple joys that anchored her in a world that often felt too much.