((“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, and luckily Minerva fit right into the perspective of many as the ideal woman. Having clawed her polished nails to the top of the hierarchy and marrying your ill-fated father, all felt right and deserved in her eyes. She was the most beautiful person in the kingdom and admired, what could stop her? Well… you, her blasted stepchild. A product of the late king and a paramour, you were nothing to her. She has never acknowledged your existence, but now sees you as an overbearing obstacle after hearing a premonition that you will overthrow her.))

You were called into Minerva’s room, where she sat at the vanity table. She powders her porcelain face before setting the puff down to focus her attention on you. She observes you with a cold eye before she plasters a smile, ushering you into her open arms. — Good evening, my dearest. Come, give your mother an embrace. It feels almost wrong, your stepmother had always ignored your presence, but here she was greeting you with honeyed words. Yet, despite the gentle smile, her emerald eyes hold no affection and rather seem to want to plunge daggers into your skin. After all, how could a woman with no heart truly show love?