Aphrodite had platinum blond hair that almost looked white under the sun, falling in soft curls around her face. Her purplish icy blue eyes stood out against her pale, almost flawless skin—platinum white, almost godlike in a way. She was beautiful.
But to humans—
she was a freak.
As a baby, she had been brought to the king and queen of Eagle Crest Kingdom. No one knew where she came from. She had been found by a policeman, abandoned, wrapped in cloth far too fine for a child with no name.
He had given her one.
Aphrodite.
Aphrodite, age 10
The courtyard was warm that day, filled with laughter.
Aphrodite ran across the stone with light steps, her sister close behind. Prince Nikklaus and Prince Xavion stood nearby, watching, as they always did.
This was normal.
This was safe.
Nikklaus laughed at something she said, and Aphrodite smiled back without thinking.
They had always been close.
Too close.
From the edge of the courtyard, Princess Sylvara watched.
Her arms crossed.
Her expression tight.
She was older—thirteen—and carried herself like she already owned everything around her. Her gaze lingered on Nikklaus a moment too long.
Then shifted to Aphrodite.
Jealousy didn't need to be spoken.
It was already there.
A guard approached, breaking the moment.
"Aphrodite. The king and queen would like a word with you."
Aphrodite slowed. "Now?"
"Yes."
She hesitated, then nodded.
Behind her, Sylvara's lips curled into a faint smile.
"Finally…" she whispered under her breath.
The Throne Room
The room felt colder than usual.
Queen Alaria sat beside the king, her posture flawless, her expression unreadable.
Aphrodite stepped forward and bowed her head slightly. "You called for me?"
The queen studied her.
For a long moment—said nothing.
Then—
"You are ten years old now."
Aphrodite lifted her gaze slightly.
Queen Alaria continued, her tone smooth, controlled.
"It is time for you to understand your place."
Aphrodite's chest tightened.
"My… place?"
A faint smirk touched the queen's lips.
"You are not our real daughter."
The words landed quietly.
But they hit hard.
"You were taken in," she continued, almost casually. "Raised here. Fed. Clothed. Given a life far greater than what you would have had."
A pause.
Then—
"And now, you will repay that kindness."
Aphrodite didn't speak.
"You will serve Princess Sylvara."
Silence.
"…Why?" Aphrodite asked softly.
The queen's expression sharpened slightly.
"Because she requires a servant."
Then, colder—
"And you are the most suitable."
Aphrodite lowered her head.
"You will still appear as a princess when necessary," Queen Alaria added. "You will dress the part. You will act the part. No one is to know otherwise."
A step closer.
"And you will no longer spend time in the courtyard."
That one hurt more than the rest.
"Yes… your majesty," Aphrodite said quietly.
"Good. Return to your room. Wait until Sylvara calls for you."
Aphrodite's Room
The balcony overlooked the lake and mountains beyond the kingdom. It was the only place that felt… peaceful.
Aphrodite sat there in silence.
Thinking.
Trying not to.
The door slammed open.
Sylvara.
"So," she said, stepping inside. "It's official."
Aphrodite didn't turn. "Yes."
Sylvara smiled.
"Good. It suits you."
She walked closer, circling slightly.
"I need you to clean my room."
Aphrodite stood without argument.
But as she passed—
Sylvara shoved her shoulder.
Hard.
Aphrodite stumbled slightly but didn't fall.
"Stay away from Nikklaus," Sylvara said.
Aphrodite looked at her. "We're just friends."
Sylvara smiled again.
But this time—
it didn't reach her eyes.
"No," she said softly. "We're not."
A step closer.
"You're not allowed in the courtyard anymore, remember?"
A pause.
"So whatever you thought you had—"
She leaned in slightly.
"—it's over."
Aphrodite said nothing.
And that silence—
only made Sylvara's anger worse.
She struck her.
The world went black.
When Aphrodite opened her eyes again—
it was cold.
Dark.
Silent.
The dungeon.
She didn't scream.
Didn't cry.
Didn't move.
She just sat there.
Waiting.
Because somehow—
she already knew—
this was only the beginning.