The scent of moon blossoms filled the grand ceremonial hall, their pale white petals trembling softly in the breeze from the open lattice windows. This was the Moonflower Court—so named for the thousands of delicate moonflowers blooming in its gardens, and for the moon itself, which bathed the court in silvery light during its nightly ascents. A place of elegance, intrigue, and power plays cloaked in silk and sweet perfumes.
At the center of the dais, on a grand throne carved from obsidian and inlaid with golden vines, sat His Majesty King Arthro. His posture was regal, one leg casually crossed over the other, arms resting on the lion-armrests of his throne. His expression, unreadable. Beside him sat Queen Roselin, her beauty radiant even in her delicate condition. Her gentle hands rested on her swollen belly, the child within her stirring—the future of the kingdom itself.
Below the dais, kneeling with grace, were two women. One, known throughout the kingdom as His Majesty's Chosen Flower—Concubine Fifi. Elegant and poised, her features were serene, unaffected by court games. She was favored for her silence, her beauty, and her talent for music. The other knelt in measured humility: Concubine Shithal. Younger than Roselin and dangerously ambitious. Her jade-studded robes shimmered with every move she made, though her eyes stayed respectfully low.
The hall was quiet, the hush only broken by the king's deep voice as he rose from his throne.
"Though it is tradition that the Queen prepares for the Choosing of the Maiden Ceremony," King Arthro began, his gaze flickering to Roselin with a practiced softness, "due to her current condition, it shall be Concubine Shithal who oversees this sacred task."
A murmur spread among the gathered court ladies and eunuchs lining the sides of the hall. Some masked their surprise, others their approval. All watched Queen Roselin's reaction carefully. But the Queen, ever graceful, remained composed, offering only a calm smile.
Shithal bowed low, both to the king and then to the queen. Her voice was sweet as honey, dripping with performative humility.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I am honored by your trust." She then turned to Roselin. "Your Majesty, I will ensure the ceremony is as splendid as you would have envisioned. Please rest and have no worries—I will handle all palace duties as you would desire."
She dipped her head again. A perfect performance, but Queen Roselin noticed the slight curve of Shithal's lips, the sparkle in her lowered eyes. A silent mockery. A message that she was ascending, and Roselin was retreating.
King Arthro leaned back, almost amused by the shifting energies in the room. He had granted Shithal what she requested weeks ago during a private moment—an opportunity to rise in the harem through the prestigious Maiden Ceremony. But he also knew Roselin was no fool.
Shithal's inner joy was carefully concealed, though it burned brightly beneath her silken façade. This is what I asked for, she reminded herself. A royal task—a symbol of favor. To be chosen publicly, in front of the court and the Queen herself, was a sign. A mark that her influence was rising. Her request had been simple, but the implications were profound.
But power in the harem was not won merely by favor—it was wielded through symbols. And no symbol was more potent than the Queen's Seal.
Without the Queen's Seal, Shithal's hands would remain tied. Many tasks required that seal to be authorized, and though the King had granted her responsibility, he hadn't mentioned the seal.
That omission twisted in her chest.
Still, she continued her act. Her voice laced with sugar, her face a mask of innocent devotion.
"Without the Queen's Seal, certain preparations may be delayed. However, I understand the burden it would place on Her Majesty. Perhaps… it may be wise for me to oversee it personally, for the time being."
Roselin tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but in amusement. She had expected this.
The Queen spoke gently, her voice like the soft ripple of silk. "Your Majesty," she said, turning to the King, "I am honored by your concern for my wellbeing. But while I carry our future child, I cannot forsake all my duties. The Queen's Seal is more than a token—it is the heart of the inner palace."
She turned to Shithal, still smiling politely.
"Concubine Shithal will have many matters to handle. If she were to lose the seal in her busyness, it would cause much confusion and delays. It is better that I keep it in my possession. Since she is full of energy, she may come to me whenever the seal is needed. I will approve each matter personally. This way, we both share the burden."
A pause hung heavy in the air.
The court ladies stiffened, their fans trembling just slightly in their hands.
King Arthro looked between them. His eyes flicked from Shithal's tightly clasped hands to Roselin's calm demeanor. A slow smile formed on his lips.
He nodded. "Very well. That is thoughtful. Let it be as the Queen says."
And with that, the power shifted again.
The Queen, though stepping back from public tasks, had not relinquished control. The seal—silent, golden, and stamped with the sigil of the Moonflower Court—remained with her. In the battle of silk smiles and velvet words, Roselin had won the round.
Shithal remained bowed, but her insides writhed. The Queen had anticipated her. Even with the favor granted, her wings had been clipped. She could prepare the ceremony—but every paper, every expense, every servant's assignment would require Roselin's approval.
Her voice trembled, only slightly, as she responded, "Yes, Your Majesty. That is wise."
Fifi, still silent, watched the exchange from behind her fan. Though she cared little for politics, even she understood the dance of shadows taking place before her. The Queen had defended her crown, not with force, but with finesse.
King Arthro said no more. He wasn't one to meddle in the affairs of the harem unless absolutely necessary. Watching the women maneuver around each other was part of the entertainment—his little private theater.
The court slowly returned to normal. Roselin leaned back slightly, her fingers caressing the swell of her belly. She had made her point. Though she was physically weakened, she was not politically so.
Shithal remained on her knees a moment longer than necessary. Not out of respect—but to hide her clenched fists. She had won a battle, yes—but not the war.
As the courtiers began to disperse, Roselin gave a final glance to Shithal. Her smile never faded.
Shithal met her gaze.
The Queen's seal may remain with her for now, but the ceremony would be hers to orchestrate. And the Choosing of the Maiden Ceremony would be watched by every noble eye in the realm. She would make sure it dazzled. She would make sure she dazzled.
In her heart, Shithal made a silent vow.
One day, the seal will be mine too.
...