── 𝓑𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝓓𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝓐𝐍𝐃 𝓓𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝅄 ݁ ⏜



❝ 𝐈𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. ❞

✧ ࣪⊹˖ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝓝𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝜗𝜚˚⋆



Amelie had always known her place.

Born into the faded remnants of a once-noble family, she'd been raised in the shadow of better days, her future outlined in the dull inevitability of servitude. Her parents had taught her to read the room before she spoke, to weigh the value of silence, and to understand that loyalty, above all, was the currency of survival. But they had never prepared her for Lady [Name].

Her first day at the duchy remained vivid in her memory. The grand estate had loomed before her, imposing and cold, its gilded arches and sprawling gardens far removed from the modest life she had known. As she'd been led through the labyrinthine halls to Lady [Name]'s chambers, her mind buzzed with a whirlwind of anticipation and fear. She had rehearsed her curtsies, her greetings, and every possible response to a scathing remark. After all, the stories about [Name] had painted a picture of a woman who was both calculating and cruel, a villainess of ice who wielded her beauty and wit like weapons.

But when Amelie finally entered the chambers, she found something entirely different. The room was bathed in the muted glow of morning light, and at its centre, framed by a wide window overlooking the estate's gardens, sat a figure cloaked in quiet sorrow. [Name] was still, her gaze distant, fixed on the horizon as though searching for something she knew she would never find. Her hair, spilling over her shoulders like liquid silk, caught the light in a way that seemed almost ethereal. Her beauty was undeniable, yes, but it was not the sharp, intimidating beauty the rumours had described. It was soft, fragile, a beauty that seemed to belong to someone who had long since grown weary of the world.

Amelie hesitated, her throat tightening with nerves, but she forced herself to speak. "Lady [Name]," she said, her voice careful, steady. She curtsied deeply, lowering her head as protocol dictated. "I am your new lady-in-waiting. My name is Amelie."

For a moment, there was no response. The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain, until [Name] finally turned her head. Her eyes, striking and otherworldly, met Amelie's for the first time. There was no malice in them, no cutting disdain—only an exhaustion so profound it made Amelie's chest ache.

"Another one," [Name] murmured at last, her voice quiet and laced with resignation. She looked at Amelie as though she were a passing shadow, something barely worth noticing. "Very well. Do as you're told, and we'll have no problems."

The words weren't cruel, but they weren't kind, either. They were detached, hollow, spoken by someone who no longer cared whether her words were heard or not. Amelie's heart clenched at the sound, though she couldn't have explained why. She lowered her head once more, murmuring an obedient acknowledgement, but as she straightened, she silently resolved that she would not be another passing shadow. She would earn her lady's trust, her regard, even if it took a lifetime.

From that moment, something had shifted within Amelie. The stories, the warnings, the image of Lady [Name] as the court's villainess—all of it began to crumble in the face of the quiet, listless figure sitting before her. Whatever burdens this woman carried, they were far heavier than the ones the court imagined. And Amelie, despite herself, had sworn then and there that she would never add to them.



───────── ⟡ 𝜗𝜚 ‧ ⁺ ⊰ ─────────



The days turned to weeks, the weeks to months. Amelie's understanding of [Name] deepened with every small gesture, every fleeting glance. She saw how the other nobles treated her—the way they spoke to her in tones dripping with false sweetness, their smiles brittle, their laughter sharp-edged. She saw the way their eyes lingered, filled with veiled scorn or open derision, the way their whispers followed [Name] like a ghost.

And she saw how [Name] bore it all with a grace that was both quiet and unyielding. She never retaliated, never allowed her mask to crack, even when the weight of their disdain must have felt unbearable. Amelie couldn't understand how they didn't see it—the strength it took to endure such isolation, to walk into a room knowing you were already condemned. The more she watched, the more her admiration grew.

She began to notice every detail about her lady: the way her eyes softened ever so slightly when she thought no one was watching; the way her hands, delicate but capable, moved with precision as she brushed her hair or arranged her gowns; the way her voice, so often measured and distant, carried a hint of vulnerability in the rare moments she let herself speak freely.

She found herself bristling at the smallest slight against [Name], her anger sharp and bitter, though she kept it hidden behind a mask of composed servitude. She wanted to shield her lady from the cruelty of the world, to take the weight of that sorrow and carry it herself. And yet, she knew that was impossible. Lady [Name] had built walls around herself so high and so thick that even Amelie, who stood closest to her, could not breach them.

There were moments, however, when those walls seemed to waver. Moments when [Name] would pause in the midst of their daily routines, her gaze growing distant as though lost in some unfathomable thought. In those moments, Amelie would catch glimpses of something raw, something unguarded, and it would pierce her like a blade. She wondered what it would take to truly reach her lady, to offer her the solace she so clearly needed but would never ask for.

Amelie had served many noblewomen in her life, each one demanding in their own way, each one looking down on her as little more than a tool. But [Name] was different. She had never treated Amelie with cruelty, never barked orders or demanded more than what was necessary. If anything, she seemed almost indifferent, as though she expected nothing from her lady-in-waiting because she believed she deserved nothing in return.

It was that indifference, that quiet resignation, that made Amelie's devotion burn all the brighter. How could someone so strong, so beautiful, not see her own worth? How could she not recognise the power in her grace, the courage in her endurance?

And so, Amelie vowed, silently and fervently, that she would remain by [Name]'s side for as long as she was needed. It wasn't duty that bound her anymore, nor the ambitions her parents had instilled in her. It was something far more consuming.

Because [Name] deserved to be seen—not as the villainess they whispered about in the court, but as the resilient, brilliant woman she truly was. And if no one else would stand by her, Amelie would. Always.

Because for Amelie, there was no greater honour than to serve [Name]. Not out of loyalty. Not out of duty.

Out of love.



✧ ࣪⊹˖ 𝓔𝐍𝐃 𝓞𝐅 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝓝𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝜗𝜚˚⋆



𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓥𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝓘𝐒 𝓣𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃!

𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘷𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘹 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴! 𝘧𝘦𝘮. 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

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𝜗𝜚 ✧𓆪 ‧₊˚⊹

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝓢𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 ﹕edited !





ehjoefcdjwd I hate describing MC's appearance so much, sorry guys 😭. She will eventually get her original body/appearance back!! Though it may take quite a while...