For the sake of the kingdom and its people, the Crown Prince sent his heavily pregnant wife to the enemy. And I was his wife. Two lives gone, in one cruel sweep. My body, merely a discarded battlefield casualty. That very day, he returned to the capital with the transmigrator woman, ascending happily to the throne. When I opened my eyes again, I woke up in the body of a palace maid. He stared at me. “I feel like you resemble someone I once knew.” When we marched off to war, I was already three months pregnant. The King was advanced in years then, already hinting at abdication. The political currents were turbulent in court. My parents were caught in the crossfire, both thrown into the royal dungeons. My mother gripped my hand, her eyes swimming with tears. “Elara, the royal family knows no mercy, my dear. Don’t get too deeply entangled.” To serve a King is like walking with a tiger. We had long foreseen such an outcome. I comforted my mother. “Mother, Dorian will soon ascend to the throne. When he does, I’ll have you released from the dungeons.” Dorian – my childhood sweetheart, the Crown Prince, and the future King. My mother couldn’t speak, just wept incessantly. My status had become sensitive. When Dorian led his troops to war, he took me with him to protect me. He comforted me. “Don’t be afraid, Elara. Just stay in the camp, and be careful not to overexert yourself and harm the baby.” I nodded, not refusing. If all went as planned, after this war, our return to the capital would be the day the King abdicated. As the Crown Princess, I was naturally the future Queen. Then, I’d find some reason to clear my parents’ names, and our family could be reunited. I believed this without a shadow of a doubt. It wasn’t until we reached the battlefield, seeing the armies clash, that I realized things weren’t as simple as I’d imagined. Heavily pregnant, I could do nothing. And in the camp, besides me, there was another woman. Her name was Skylar, a field medic traveling with the army. Every day, she would leave with Dorian and return with him. Whispers began to circulate in the camp behind my back. They said the Crown Prince was about to take a new woman. I understood the look in Skylar’s eyes when she gazed at Dorian. She liked him. Her medical skills were astonishing, almost miraculous. She was different from me; she said she came from another world, a transmigrator. I didn’t understand what she was talking about, but every time she spoke, Dorian would listen intently. A focus in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Skylar was free-spirited and unconventional; she claimed everyone was equal. So, she dismissed the maids who attended me. She declared that women are just as capable as men. And so, heavily pregnant, I found myself standing on the battlefield. That was the day the enemy general saw my face. My beauty was famed across the kingdoms, my dances legendary, my beauty unmatched – a true siren, rare in this world. The enemy army was strong and well-equipped, pushing us back relentlessly, causing heavy casualties. Dorian was forced to surrender. The enemy general, wanting to humiliate him, demanded me from Dorian. I sat on the plush divan, despair washing over me, my tears long since dried. I understood the look in Dorian’s eyes. He wanted to agree. That day, I looked at him, my eyes filled with utter disappointment. He gripped my hand, promising solemnly: “Elara, be good. It’s just a feigned surrender. I’ll lead the troops back to rescue you immediately!” Skylar also urged me. “Your Royal Highness, for the sake of the kingdom, please consider the bigger picture.” If I didn’t go, the city would fall, all its people would die, and so would our soldiers. They piled on the pressure, painting me as the kingdom’s only hope. I had no choice but to agree. And so, heavily pregnant, I was lifted into a sedan chair and carried into the enemy camp. That day, I was forced to dance barefoot on a mosaic of broken pottery. My soles were pierced, blood flowing freely. Several times, I nearly fainted, but I forced myself to stay conscious. I couldn’t collapse, couldn’t harm the baby in my belly. Dorian promised he would come for me. Inside me, our child was still alive. When I returned to the city, my parents were waiting for me to rescue them. I ignored the enemy soldiers’ taunts. Dorian said he would come to save me soon. Clinging to that hope, I danced until past midnight, but Dorian never came. The enemy general grabbed my arm, dragging me onto the divan. His voice was laced with mockery. “Waiting for someone to save you, perhaps? “Your husband has already returned to his capital with his little beauty.” It was then that I truly despaired. I had been abandoned. That night, I didn’t survive. All I knew was the numb agony, blood staining the divan crimson, and the child in my belly dissolving into a pool of blood, gone from me forever. Two lives gone, in one cruel sweep. Dorian returned to the capital with that transmigrator woman. On the very day my body was discarded, he donned his King’s robes and held his coronation. The new King, devoted to his realm, had sacrificed his wife for peace and prosperity. Skylar, with her miraculous healing, had earned great merit. And I? I was merely a footnote in their tale of glory, an insignificant detail. My parents, unable to await my return, died in the royal dungeons. All my despair gradually transformed into hatred. I opened my eyes, unwilling to accept my fate, only to see Skylar now dressed in fine silks and luxurious robes. The woman who once preached equality now had an army of maids at her beck and call. And I had become one of them. She stepped on my head, forcing me to gnaw on the leftover bones she had discarded on the floor. “You’re just an illegitimate daughter. Eating my leftovers is already a privilege for you.” My hair was disheveled, and I knelt on the floor, saying nothing. Skylar lounged on her plush chaise lounge, laughing hysterically, pointing at me and chattering with Gemma, her head maid.
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