Chapter 91: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚
Chapter 𝟗𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚
From the very first breath he drew, Edward Windsor lived beneath the suffocating shadow of Christian Windsor. As far back as memory stretched, his existence had been entwined in comparison—a pale echo of a prince, a burden to the House of Windsor. A curse upon the royal bloodline. A wayward soul who shattered everything he touched.
By the age of ten, he found himself pondering a cruel question: Had he been born merely to accentuate Christian’s brilliance?
Such thoughts returned, uninvited, time and time again. They were the only semblance of worth he could find in himself.
The King, too, seemed to see him only through that fractured lens. After the sudden passing of the Queen—the only soul who ever shielded Edward—the King’s loathing emerged in full.
‘Had you even half the grace of Christian, you might have stood as a contender. But no. They will never look to you with favor. If I had borne a daughter, I would have cherished her more dearly.’
Even while constantly eclipsed by Christian, Edward could never bring himself to despise her.
‘Edward, my dearest brother… I know how heavy the world weighs on you. I understand your wandering heart better than anyone. And I sense the secret hunger you bury.’
Christian, ever radiant, offered him compassion, never cruelty.
‘I care little for kingship. But the King has fixed his gaze upon me, and I cannot turn away. Is it not a child’s solemn duty to obey the will of the father?’
Despite her indifference, she followed her path with unwavering loyalty. Still, she urged the King to consider Edward as heir.
‘Edward… Let me help you. Let me pave the way for you to ascend.’
He thought her offer deceitful. But it wasn’t. She lifted him, again and again, placed him in the light, spoke proudly of her brother during every gathering of note.
And Edward believed—naively, desperately—that the tide would turn.
‘Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Christian, is truly extraordinary.’ ‘Prince Edward… He’s not unkind, just… unremarkable. Not fit for the crown.’ ‘Indeed. Has a woman ever shone so brightly in our history? At this rate, Docilia may soon see her first queen.’
Then came the reckoning.
Christian’s radiance stood before him like a divine chasm—vast, unreachable.
Though she sought to elevate him, though she adorned him with her praise, nothing changed. The court, the nobility, the realm—they saw only Christian.
Shame. Molten and unrelenting, it seared through his limbs. No matter his efforts, he couldn’t even reach the shadow of her heels.
At last, Edward faced the cruel truth: He had been left far, far behind.
Christian herself lamented his inadequacy.
‘I suppose… this is how it must be. Take care of me when I rule, will you? I promise to care for you in return.’
It was, without question, the most humiliating moment of his life.
All his striving. All her kindness. Useless.
From that day forth, Edward was exiled from royal matters. The struggle for succession no longer bore his name. He was a discarded son, an inconvenient ghost.
Even Christian could no longer look him in the eye. Her presence crushed him.
And so he fell. Into indulgence, into intoxication, into sin. The castle became a haven of excess—liquor, women, and all the filth a fallen prince could gather.
And among them, one woman ignited a spark within him.
‘A lawyer…? What brings someone like you here?’
‘I sought work in the capital, but there was no place for me. So I came to plead before Your Highness.’
‘Your name?’
‘Eden. Eden Blanchell. I wish to serve the Crown directly. But the law does not permit women. So I thought—perhaps the Prince might listen.’
‘Do you presume your beauty can sway me?’
‘I do not presume anything, Your Highness. But I thank you for believing I might wield such power.’
It was absurd. A woman seeking favor from a prince who had none.
And yet, Edward fell.
It did not take long for Eden Blanchell to become his lawyer.
Until she dared to speak.
‘What are women, in the end? We’re bound to men, yet still clawing for recognition. It’s a cruel fate.’
‘That’s wrong. Women surpass men in many ways. Look no further than Her Royal Highness—’
‘Silence. Are you here to lecture me now?’
They fought. Again and again. And then, in a moment of fury, Edward crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.
He killed her.
Perhaps because she reminded him of Christian.
Yet, in her death, he found something monstrous: freedom.
He could look Christian in the eye at last.
When he begged her to cover his sin, she erased Eden’s existence with terrifying grace.
From then on, he knew: To level the scales, he had to destroy women who dared to step into men’s dominion.
Only then could he face Christian as an equal.
But ordinary women were not enough.
He needed a way—silent, invisible, perfect.
So he summoned a forgotten boy.
‘Frederick Müller. Orphaned during the Alchemist Massacre, weren’t you?’
‘…Yes.’
‘Then surely you possess talents. Help me craft a poison, and I shall crown you in justice. I will become King of Docilia, and avenge all your wrongs.’
Frederick, simmering with hatred for the royal bloodline, agreed.
And soon, together, they forged a masterpiece:
A poison—colorless, odorless, deadly.
‘One flaw,’ Frederick noted. ‘It turns green in time. And it leaves behind a stench, like death itself.’
‘Green, you say? The corpses too? Fascinating. Let’s test it.’
Prisoners from the dungeons of Barberine Castle became their silent subjects. No one mourned the vanished.
And Edward? He delighted in their agony.
‘Excellent. Does it have a name? No? Then let me choose. A name gives everything purpose. Let us call it… Bethior, after the infamous killer.’
‘You mean Bédior Moulin?’
‘Indeed. And we must mask the scent. Perhaps with flowers. Frederick, have you considered becoming a gardener?’
Frederick obeyed, cultivating poison and roses alike.
To hide the corpses, they buried them beneath fragrant northern roses—snow-white blossoms whose scent could rival death.
But the roses turned green.
Blending with Bethior’s aroma, they birthed a fragrance more potent still.
‘A green rose… How extraordinary. This shall be our emblem—the Windsor mark. Brilliant, Edward. Shall we name it?’
Christian had taken notice.
The moment had come.
‘In honor of my first love… Let the flower be named Eden Blanc.’
And so, the greatest tribute was paid to the first fallen star.
aliceyriz
my stupid ass just realized christian is a woman💀