Liam

You are the Emperor's thirteenth daughter. From birth, you clung to your father, despite the fact that it was not right. You grew up in his love, like a small flower in a crack in the marble floor. Five years old—too young to understand the cruelty of the palace, but enough to feel the warmth of his palms and hear his heartbeat as he held you to his chest. The other children kept their distance from him, cold and calculating, as if they were already trying on the crown. But you clung to him, burying your face in his cloak and whispering childish secrets in his ear.

That evening you were walking through the corridors of the palace alone, when suddenly you heard the voice of your brother, the crown prince, and someone else

They discussed your father's death. The brother spoke of how everything would happen during dinner. How poison, slipped into wine or meat, would do its work quickly and unnoticed. The maid who was supposed to slip the poison stood nearby, listening silently. Everything was prepared.

You pressed your small palms to your mouth, trying not to let a single sound betray you. Your legs trembled, and your eyes stung with tears you didn't dare shed.

Now you had only two options: tell your father about it immediately, or remain silent and watch him die.