Pitter-patter.
The quiet sound of footsteps tapping against the cold, hard ground slowly grew louder, echoing through the silent, subterranean dungeon cells. Most of the iron cages stood completely empty, abandoned to the heavy shadows, except for the single isolated cell resting at the very end of the corridor.
“Who's... there...?”
A woman with matted, filthy silver hair lay huddled weakly on the stone floor. Heavy iron shackles bit ruthlessly into her wrists as she cried out, her voice barely a scratchy whisper. The suffocating darkness of the room swallowed everything, save for a single, narrow sliver of moonlight that pierced the barred window, falling upon another woman who was now kneeling at the cell gates. The faint light caught the deep brown of her hair and the pained, fractured expression on her face.
“It’s me. It's Stella, Lady Francesca,” she whispered. Her voice was completely drowned in a sea of overwhelming sorrow as she looked at her mistress, reduced to a tragic state she had never wished to imagine. “I sneaked in on His Lordship’s direct orders. We are breaking you out of this prison. We are taking you out of the capital and escaping to the Ironwood Viscounty.”
“W-what? Why on earth are you back here?!” Francesca yelled, utilizing every ounce of fragile strength left in her broken body. “I sent you away to the Ironwood Viscounty so you could get married and finally live your life in peace!”
Stella fiercely rebuked her, tears welling in her eyes. “How could I ever do that? It is my absolute job to protect you, my Lady! You don't have to worry. The First Prince never possessed the legal justification to lock you up in the first place. Even if you were living in the LeonCraft Estate, you have not been a LeonCraft since the day you married His Lordship.”
Pulling a set of tools from her belt, Stella began frantically picking the heavy cell lock. “You can’t be arrested for LeonCraft Family’s treason. The First Prince won’t be able to say a single word to contest us, even if we break you out of here tonight.”
“No... No... you don’t understand,” Francesca said, crawling painfully across the freezing stone toward the bars, gripping them tightly with her trembling hands. “This isn’t just a simple plot to eradicate the Second Prince’s political faction... it is a calculated trap for the Third Prince, too!”
Stella stopped her movements, blinking in confusion. “W-what do you mean by that, my Lady?”
Francesca coughed harshly a few times, her throat incredibly dry and raw, before pushing through the pain to continue. “He used Father’s own malicious schemes against him to completely get rid of the LeonCraft family that was supporting the Second Prince... that part is perfectly logical. But arresting me, despite the threat of heavy opposition from the nobility, didn’t make any sense.”
“I still don’t quite comprehend, your Ladyship... but you truly don’t have to worry. His Lordship and Kenny are stationed just outside guarding the main gates, so we will get you out of here in no time,” Stella said, returning to her lockpick.
Suddenly, Francesca reached through the iron bars and grabbed Stella tightly by the wrist with frantic, terrifying urgency.
“No! Make them run away right now!” Francesca held onto her tighter, her eyes wide with horror. “It’s a trap! The First Prince arrested me knowing exactly that Miller would come out of the impenetrable Ironwood Viscounty to rescue me...! He set this entire scenario up so he could violently remove the Ironwood family supporting the Third Prince, and the LeonCraft family supporting the Second Prince, all in a single swoop!”
Thud—
Before Stella could even formulate a reply, a heavy, sickening sound reverberated from the dark alleyway behind them. A round object rolled violently across the ground, stopping right against the iron cell gates.
As the moonlight hit the surface of the object, it reflected a shock of vivid, blood-red hair. The severed head turned slightly to reveal its features, its dark crimson eyes staring blankly and lifelessly up at Francesca.
“Argh!”
Francesca jolted upright in bed, gasping wildly for air as cold sweat drenched her sheets.
Beside her, Miller instantly woke up. Sensing her panic, he pulled her into his chest, wrapping his strong, warm arms around her in a protective hug. “Shh... Shh... it's alright. Was it a nightmare?”
Francesca took a couple of deep, ragged breaths, the comforting scent of his skin slowly grounding her. As her racing heart began to calm down, she nodded weakly, laying back down onto the soft pillows while tightly holding onto Miller’s hand.
“Yeah... A nightmare... just a nightmare of something that never actually happened in this world,” she muttered softly under her breath.
Miller simply patted her shoulder gently, letting out a drowsy, comforting hum as he closed his eyes, keeping his grip on her hand secure.
Francesca stared up at the dark ceiling, a bittersweet, melancholic, yet sober expression crossing her face as she tried to drift back off to sleep.
She turned over onto her side to look at Miller’s peacefully sleeping face, letting her thoughts quiet down. Everything will be alright. I didn’t stubbornly choose to stay in the capital this time around... There is no way I will end up executed alongside the LeonCraft family, and Miller won't have to die trying to save me.
“I... love you,” she whispered in a soft, barely audible voice, gently placing her hand against his warm cheek.
Her expression turned slightly serious in the dark. The butterfly effect is something I must be incredibly careful about, after all. Ivan never once visited the North in my first life because he never had a clear justification to do so... I need to remain absolutely cautious of the changes currently happening around us.
As if sensing her touch, Miller instinctively reached up, holding her hand against his cheek as a soft smile graced his sleeping features. Seeing this, a wave of profound comfort washed over Francesca, and she slowly drifted back off into a peaceful sleep right beside him.