"Goodness Mii!! What is this?!"
Lady Constance's face crumpled into pure horror the moment the mask was removed, her hand flying to her chest as if the sight alone had struck her breathless.
"Why is your face like that?! Someone stop the carriage!"
At her sharp command, the wheels screeched and the carriage lurched to a halt.
"Is this the reason you wore that ugly mask?!" Her voice rose, trembling between disbelief and revulsion. "How can a woman's face be so terribly disfigured?!"
One might have assumed she exaggerated, but she really wasn't.
The left side of Lilian's face bore the merciless marks of a long-healed burn, as though something corrosive had once been poured upon her flesh. The skin there was uneven and distorted, pale in some places, darkened in others, its texture warped into a cruel reminder of an agony long past. The damage stretched from her cheekbone down to her jaw, stealing the softness that once defined her features.
Lady Constance looked almost nauseated as she could not stand the sight. Her hand rose to cover her mouth as she turned slightly away — but Lilian did not flinch.
She remained seated in silence, her gaze lowered, already accustomed to this same expression, the familiar blend of shock, pity and quiet disgust that reflected in the eyes of anyone who saw her true face for the first time.
"No, no, no," Lady Constance shook her head vehemently. "I refuse to share a carriage with someone so damaged beyond repair. Get down from my carriage this instant! And put that mask back on. Guards!"
One of the guards hurried forward at once and pulled the door open. Without protest, Lilian stepped down onto the dirt road.
She refastened the mask back in place, the familiar weight settling against her skin once more. When the carriage door slammed shut, she now stood alone on the desolate stretch of road, surrounded by nothing but wind and silence.
Humiliation burned quietly in her chest, but she did not allow it to show. Lilian's first thought was that the lady would leave her here to singlehandedly find her way back to the North, but the carriage had not moved.
Instead, Lady Constance leaned toward the open window, studying Lilian as though she were something unpleasant left behind by the road.
"On second thought," she said coolly, "letting you wander unattended would be an eyesore for decent folks. You may return."
Her words puzzled Lilian.
She stepped back into the carriage first, only for Constance to add, "When you re-enter, you will not touch the seats. Have her seat on the floor. I will not have my cushions stained any further."
The guard did not hesitate and simply gestured for Lilian to hurry up. The interior that once seemed uncomfortable now felt suffocating. But then again, these were the same people that accused her father and had him executed publicly. Why would they treat the daughter of that same person any differently?
Still, it didn't make this situation she was in any less bearable.
Lilian lowered herself onto the polished floorboards, folding her skirt beneath her knees. The fine cushion loomed above her, untouched and forbidden.
Lady Constance glanced down, her lips curling in faint satisfaction.
"Yes," she murmured. "That suits you far better."
As the carriage continued its journey, the gentle sway only deepened the ache in Lilian's leg, but she did not complain. Her spine remained straight, her gaze lowered and her silence unbroken, an unwavering stillness that refused to crack no matter how painful and unbearable it felt.
It was that composure that drew Lady Constance's attention.
Not once did the girl try to resist. Not once did she glare, plead, or display even the faintest flicker of resentment. There was no visible fear, no simmering defiance. Only an unsettling calm that defied the degradation forced upon her.
A quiet, hidden strength lingered beneath the girl's obedience, and Lady Constance found herself increasingly irritated by it.
Her lips thinned.
Very well.
She would force it out.
***********
The journey to the North stretched on for four long days.
By the second day, the constant kneeling had turned the full ache in Lilian's legs into a slow, burning throb. Each jolt of the carriage sent a sharp sting through her knees, and when they stopped to rest for the night, rising to her feet became a silent struggle she carefully disguised behind her bowed head.
'Don't falter now,' she would utter to herself.
She bit her lip as she forced herself to rise.
The guards were the first to notice the tremor in her legs. Lady Constance did as well, but she said nothing.
By the third day, the pain had settled deep into her joints, the stiffness creeping through her limbs like winter frost. Sleep offered little relief when she was made to remain on the floor even at rest stops, and she was denied the comfort of a proper meal and bedding.
"Do try not to collapse," Constance remarked coolly as she ordered one of her guards to hand her a stale bread. "It would be most inconvenient."
By the fourth day, Lilian's reaction was the same. She never voiced a complaint. Despite being in pain, not even a single plea escaped her lips.
She offered silence.
And that silence was starting to gnaw at Lady Constance far more than any tearful display ever could.
Was it pride?
Was it stubbornness?
Or something far more sinister behind that obedient façade?
Dusk bled across the horizon by the time the carriage finally crested the last rise.
Before them loomed the North's most formidable sight - the Duke's fortress. The towering stone walls carved into the mountainside rose like a sleeping colossus, their jagged silhouette cutting through into the darkening sky. Cold mist rolled low across the grounds, carrying with it the bite of Northern air and the scent of iron and frost. This was not merely a home. It was a stronghold.
The carriage slowed as it went through the fortified gates, wheels crunching over gravel as torchlight flickered to life along the battlement. Then, when it came to a stop, the carriage door opened
"Finally," Lady Constance murmured. "Get down from my carriage, girl."
Lilian simply obeyed. But it was not as easy as she had hoped. A sharp tremor seized through her legs the moment she placed weight on them. Pain flared through her knees, hot and unforgiving, and she inhaled quietly, gripping the wooden frame tighter to steady herself. It only messed with Lady Constance's fragile patience, and she gestured at one of her guards to get her out of the way.
Lilian was assisted by a guard who stepped forward, but he was not gentle with her. She tried to step down carefully, but with the guard pulling her forward, a subtle wince flickered across her features as she climbed down from the carriage.
"How troublesome," Lady Constance remarked as she watched her. "You need to stand straight, girl. Do not embarrass me before the household."
Cold air rushed in, sharp and cleansing, and it carried the distant howl of the northern wind. Before Lilian stood the vast fortress, merciless and unyielding.
And this… was now her prison.