Chapter Text
Traitor, that’s what her mother would call her if she knew what she was planning on doing.
Not daughter.
Not Stella.
Traitor.
The realization should have hurt more than it did.
Instead it only left behind a dull ache.
Like pressing against an old bruise.
The hour was early — early enough that no one should have been awake — which made it the perfect time to execute their plan. That was how Stella found herself standing in an alcove near one of Alfea’s entrances. This one had been specifically selected because it was the farthest one from Rosalind’s office. They’d been worried about catching Rosalind’s eye, and so had to plan the timing and place so that it wouldn’t attract the woman’s attention.
She wasn’t alone. Aisha stood beside her.
“You have everything?” Aisha asked nervously, making Stella turn toward her.
“I do. You’re worrying too much,” she grumbled, but the water fairy only shook her head.
“Don’t say anything about worrying,” Aisha snapped. “You’re leaving Alfea grounds — she’s going to notice, Stella.”
Stella sighed, lifting a hand in surrender. “I know. But we don’t have a choice. I need to do this. I need to speak to him.” Her voice dropped. “This might be the key, Aisha.”
The crunch of wheels against snow cut through the quiet, and Stella turned just as a small, nondescript car pulled up only feet away. She caught sight of Adelaide behind the wheel and felt a flicker of relief. The large man had been a great reassurance since Marco had been captured. He’d been very helpful in planning this entire situation as well.
“Adelaide will make sure I get where I need to go,” she said.
“Part of me wishes it was Marco, but he’s in Andros, detained.” Aisha signed, before looking at Stella with hesitation.
“I’ll be fine,” Stella tried to reassure before stumbling back as Aisha threw herself at her, wrapping her in a tight unexpected hug.
She was not one for physical contact, her mother had never been one for physical contact, but as of late, she’d been open to physical contact, as long as it was with those she chose.
Maybe because the people she trusted, the people she cared about, were disappearing one by one, and she couldn’t afford to push away the ones she had left. Maybe also because she secretly liked the hugs.
“I can’t lose another friend. Bloom’s already in danger and seeing you going into danger it… it makes me really nervous. Promise me you’ll be as safe as possible, that if something feels wrong, you get the hell out.” Aisha whispered into her shoulder as Stella relaxed into the hug and returned it.
“We will,” Stella promised. For a moment they stayed connected, unwilling to separate but they knew they had to. With reluctance, Stella pulled away, grasping Aisha’s shaking hands in hers and squeezing them. She could see the fear in Aisha’s eyes, it no doubt reflected her own.
“Keep Terra out of trouble,” She whispered, throat tight as she tried to keep her emotions in check. Regrettably, she let go of Aisha’s hands, even though she wanted to stay there just a bit longer.
With one final shaky smile, she turned away and hurried toward the car, rounding the front and slipping inside. Warmth wrapped around her the moment the door shut, sealing Solaria’s winter cold outside.
The heater hummed, fighting the winter air that still clung to her coat. She tugged her seatbelt into place and looked up at Adelaide, who regarded her with a questioning glance.
“Let’s do this,” Stella whispered before her gaze turned to see Aisha standing where she’d left her, looking just as nervous as Stella felt.
Adelaide nodded and eased the car into motion.
“Are you alright with some music?” he asked after a moment. “It’s a long drive we’re taking.”
“It's fine,” She responded, not really hearing the music to be honest. Not with how loud her thoughts were.
How could she not be nervous? It might not have been the first time she left Alfea grounds, but this time she didn’t know how long she’d be gone for and it was highly possible Rosalind would find out she wasn’t at Alfea. If that was the case, it wouldn’t be long before her mother was made aware of the fact as well.
Sometimes she wondered if betrayal ran in their blood — if she was doomed to repeat her mothers mistakes.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? You’re putting yourself in danger, Stella. Rosalind—” His fingers drummed anxiously against the steering wheel as he trailed off, a nervous habit she’d never seen from him before.
“I don’t care what Rosalind does to me,” Stella cut in sharply. “I’m not stopping. Not when I know things aren’t being done right, not when people’s lives are being destroyed." Her grip tightened around the folder in her lap. “I am the Princess of Solaria, Adelaide. I have a duty to stand up for my people.”
Even if it meant standing up against her mother. She thought grimly. To be quite honest, she didn’t think she would have ever done this a year ago and yet here she was, risking everything to do the right thing.
If what they wanted to achieve would come to pass, her entire life was going to change. She had no illusion that she was utterly destroying any relationship she had or would have with her mother the moment the woman found out what Stella was doing.
It saddened her that it had come to this point, but she was also angry. Angry at her mother for making her do this.
She had spent years trying to earn Luna’s approval — years twisting herself into shapes her mother never noticed. And now she was burning the last bridge between them.
“Even if that means standing up to a psychotic woman,” he asked carefully, “and your own mother?”
“Especially then,” she whispered, her hands clenching around her folder as she looked down at it. “My mother is not above the law. She is the Queen — she’s meant to uphold it, not bend it to her will, or to suit that bitch’s plans.”
Adelaide glanced at her, a trace of respect settling into his expression. “You’re a brave girl, Princess. It’s an honor to help you.” He exhaled softly. “Glad Marco vouched for me. Now let’s get you to your grandfather,” he added, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
Stella settled into her seat, and turned her head to look out the window. The trip ahead would be long — nearly three hours if nothing went wrong — and the weight of what she carried pressed against her shoulders.
She worried about speaking with her grandfather, especially without scheduling anything ahead of time. She’d not contacted him, not wanting anything to be leaked to her mother. Considering she’d not seen her grandfather in many years, she wasn’t quite sure how he would react to what she was bringing to his attention.
He’s the one that put that contract in place, to put those clauses in, you have to believe he’d be receptive to the information you bring him. That he would be willing to help. The archivist had seemed to think that her grandfather was a fair king, a fairy king would support their kingdom right?
Then again, what if he’d changed, what if he didn’t care and allowed her mother to continue the way she was. What if he went to her even? She didn’t want to think of that option. The thought of her grandfather putting everything her and the others had done in jeopardy did not sit well but having her grandfather would strengthen her cause, would give her that little bit more power to bring the case against her mother. There was no way Parliament would agree to her being made Queen should she dethrone her mother. Not like she was at all ready for it anyway, but having her grandfather meant they had options.
This just has to work. She thought hopefully. He can’t abandon the people of Solaria and I won’t abandon Ms. Dowling, Mr. Silva or Bloom.
Time seemed to slip by slowly. They didn’t speak as they drove, Adelaide allowing her to stew in her thoughts.
Snow-laden trees drifted past like pale ghosts, their branches bowed beneath ice. The farther they traveled from Alfea, the more Stella felt as though she were leaving behind the last remnants of the life she knew.
The morning was still, the world muted beneath a pale winter sky. Villages appeared occasionally in the distance, their chimneys smoking softly before vanishing behind curtains of snow.
“We have food in the back seat, packed a bit of something if you're hungry and Alex insisted I pack a few thermoses of hot stuff, I have tea if you’d like some.” Adelaide remarked, making Stella look to the back where some bags were. “I wouldn’t mind some tea if you’re willing to pore.”
“Sure,” Setting her folder on the dash, she reached towards one of the bags and found two thermoses inside, pulling one out, she settled back and poured some tea into the cup before handing it to him. “Thank you Adelaide, for doing this. Just like you, you are risking so much to drive me there.”
“LIke you said Princess, sometimes things are worth risking. Right now, the way things are, I’m not a big fan of it. Rosalind’s nuts, your mothers doing illegal shit and I don’t like how Alfea is turning out. I’d much rather see Dowling and SIlva back at the helm. I’ll do what I can to help make that possible.” Adelaide remarked before taking a sip of the tea. “Have you heard any news from your friend, Bloom?”
“No,” she whispered, she’d been worried for Bloom since the girl vanished. Bloom had changed a lot for her, changed her. “Its not safe for her to communicate with us. I don’t know where she’s going but I hope she gets there safely. The farther she is from Rosalind the better.”
“Rosalind really wanted to get her hands on that girl. Don’t understand why though, she’s just a fairy. Don’t get me wrong, fairies are powerful, but she didn’t seem like anything special.”
“Bloom’s extremely powerful,” Stella admitted, thinking about the night her friend had killed those Burned Ones all on her own. “And she’s untrained, Rosalind no doubt wanted to harness that power and train her the way she wanted her trained, not the way Ms. Dowling was training us all.”
“Well, then it's a good thing she has Dowling on her side, helping her get away and get somewhere safe.” He remarked before handing her the cap back. “Thanks,”
Silence returned after that, just the soft music filling the car as the countryside passed them by.
“Fancy gates,” Adelaide muttered, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Stella’s eyes followed him as the estate’s gates appeared — tall, imposing, and gilded, catching the light through the trees. Stella knew these were no mere decoration; the ironwork was etched with subtle runes that hummed faintly with magic. Every royal palace used them as defenses against threats both mundane and magical.
The car slowed as they reached a small communication box. Adelaide rolled down the window and pressed the button. The crisp winter air carried a faint echo of the gate’s response, and for a moment, Stella held her breath — the moment of reckoning was almost upon her.
For a moment the gate’s call echoed back before a firm voice answered. “Appointment?”
Stella had thought long and hard about how she’d get through the gates. This was the second obstacle of their day. If they couldn’t get through the gates, then it meant their journey was for nothing.
“Moonbeam to Kingsray,” Stella spoke, her voice steady and clear, though a sharp glance at Adelaide betrayed her nerves. He snorted quietly in response.
For a moment there was silence. Stella felt her pulse quicken. The nickname was one she never used outside of her grandfather. He was the only one to call her Moonbeam. Her mother had scoffed at the nickname, but she’d always cherished it. She’d chosen to go with it as she was quiet sure that would be the only thing to get her through if nothing else did.
“You may enter.” Came the command that had her heart settling. “Drive the car to the front doors; someone will meet you there,” the voice declared. The connection clicked off, and the gates swung open with a soft, magical hum.
“Moonbeam?” Adelaide asked, teasing threading through his tone.
“Fuck off,” she muttered, cheeks warming as she turned her gaze to the path ahead.
“Sure, princess. Sure,” he chuckled, sliding the car into drive.
The winding drive led them under tall, snow-dusted trees, their branches casting muted shadows across the path. Eventually, the trees thinned, opening onto the sight of a grand, old manor. The manor was beautiful, old with ornate details and large windows.
As they approached the main entrance it revealed a large set of ornate stone steps where a man stood waiting at the base. Dressed in a dark suit that fit him sharply, he was an older man with grey hair. Stella had a distant memory of meeting him the few times she’d seen her grandfather.
Stepping out, she felt Adelaide join her side, on guard, protective.
“Princess Stella, I am Henry Cartin.” The man greeted cooly. “I’ve been asked to bring you to your grandfather. Your friend may stay in one of the entry hall rooms, where he will be served tea.”
“I don’t know if that’s—” Adelaide began to protest, but Stella’s hand pressed lightly against his arm, halting him.
“It’s okay, Adelaide,” she murmured. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, but the gesture was enough; he gave a small, reluctant nod.
“Wonderful. Then you may follow me,” Henry said, turning gracefully toward the staircase. Without another word, he began to ascend, and Stella followed, Adelaide close behind, the crunch of their boots on the snow-dusted steps echoing softly in the still morning.
The moment she crossed the threshold, something inside her eased.
It wasn't safety, safety had become a difficult thing to believe in. Yet the manor felt untouched. Like a relic from a kinder age.
Before Rosalind. Before Burned Ones. Before everything started falling apart.
The moment they entered they were welcomed by a young woman who gave a light curtsey.
“Your coat princess,” a female voice offered, pulling Stella from her thoughts and making her notice the young servant at her side. Pushing her coat off her shoulders, she was quick to hand it over before the woman turned to Adelaide. “Please follow me, sir,”
Sharing one final look with her companion, she followed after Henry. She kept her hands tight around the files she’d brought, nerves returning almost ten fold.
She had few memories of this manor. Her mother didn’t like to come here. The last memory she had of coming here was when she’d been five. Back then the manor had seemed like such a peaceful place, where she could hide away from the disapproving gaze of her mother and sit with her grandfather while he drank tea and spoke to her about stories and tales of Solarian history.
She remembered her grandfather being a kind and patient man, a quiet gentleness when he spoke to her, and always with a smile on his face. He had a warmth that her mother never had.
Walking through the manor, she tried not to let her anxiety get the best of her. The first two steps had been achieved and were successful, now all she had to do was talk to her grandfather and convince him that her mother had broken her contract.
“Kindly wait here,” Henry requested, making her look up to see that they’d arrived at a set of tall double doors.
She watched as he gave a gentle knock before opening one door and slipping inside. She tried to distract herself by looking around her. The hall was wide, with large windows overlooking what looked to be a garden, though it was covered in snow. Curtains hung on both sides of the windows, a deep royal blue.
“Your grandfather will see you now, princess.” Turning back to the doors, she found Henry standing there, the door open to allow her access.
“Thank you,” she murmured, stepping through.
The room beyond the doors was vast, its ceilings soaring high and lined with intricate moldings. Tall windows stretched nearly from floor to ceiling like in the hallway. While the room had an elegance to it, there was a warmth as well in the colors, the rugs underfoot, the bookshelves along the walls and the soft warm golden light that filtered through.
Her shoulders loosened, breath easing without her permission. She had a distinct memory of sitting in this very room with her grandfather as he drank his tea and read while she drew.
“You’ve grown into quite the stunning young woman,” a male voice echoed, rich and steady, warm like in her memory. She turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man standing by a small table.
He was handsome, even at his age, with medium-length wavy gray hair swept back from his forehead and a full, neatly kept gray beard and mustache. His posture was straight, dignified, but not rigid, the presence of a man who had borne the weight of a kingdom and learned when to set it down. His amber eyes, warm and luminous, met hers with a calm curiosity, the quiet authority of someone who had seen much and judged little.
Stella felt a flutter in her chest, a warmth spreading as recognition and comfort collided. This was her grandfather.
“Just like your grandmother,” He murmured making her heart
“Grandfather,” she greeted, voice tentative, uncertainty threading through it as she watched him approach.
He walked confidently toward her, every step measured, until he enveloped her in a warm, firm hug. “Moonbeam,” he murmured tenderly, drawing back just enough to cup her face in his large, steady hands. “You truly are the spitting image of your grandmother. Has your mother told you that?”
“No, I…” The words she wanted—“Don’t meet mother’s standards most of the time”—hung unspoken. Yet it almost seemed unnecessary. A knowing look passed between them, brief but infinite, and Stella felt the quiet reassurance of being understood. He drew a deep breath, shaking his head softly, as though clearing the weight of expectation from the room.
“Come, sit,” he said finally, leading her toward a table by another set of tall windows. Sunlight poured in, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden beams, illuminating a delicate tea set laid out with small sandwiches and desserts. “I have tea set for us while we have our conversation. I must admit, I was surprised to hear of your arrival, especially as I would believe you should be in school.” he continued, his voice calm, measured. “Does your mother know you are here?”
“No,” she admitted, before placing the folder on the table. “I came because I needed to speak with you about a very heavy topic. A topic that…I hope you will listen to be completely about and understand that I am coming because I have real concerns.”
“And why not speak to your mother about these concerns?” He questioned, curiosity clear to Stella. “I would imagine she’d be quite interested to hear what you have to say.”
“Mother had never been interested in what I have to say, and in this situation I would highly doubt she’d be at all pleased, considering she is the reason for those concerns.” Stella admitted, placing her cards on the table without hesitation.
She studied him, expecting some flicker of surprise, anger, or disbelief—but there was none. He remained composed, his expression carefully neutral, the kind of control only years of ruling could teach. Stella’s chest tightened at the calmness, unsure if it was reassurance or intimidation that filled the space.
He continued to pour the tea, unhurried, each movement deliberate. A lump of sugar went in, then a measured splash of milk. His hand stirred slowly, as if weighing the cup against invisible scales, pondering not the tea, but the gravity of what she had just said. Every gesture spoke of patience, of a mind accustomed to considering far-reaching consequences before acting.
Stella realized she had been holding her breath. The quiet authority in his motions, the serene control, made the room feel both safe and heavy with expectation.
Finally, he lifted the cup to his lips and sipped. A subtle shift in his shoulders followed—a hint of release, though only just enough to register—and he finally met her gaze. In that look, Stella caught the faintest spark of curiosity and concern, tempered by the quiet steadiness of a man who had learned that panic solves nothing.
“That is a very dangerous thing to say, Moonbeam.” He murmured, voice low and measured. “What concerns do you have that you saw fit to bring to me and why to me?”
“Allow me to speak plainly,” she began knowing that she needed to deliver her findings quickly to start and then go into detail afterwards. Opening her folder to the first page she began.
“The Queen shall not knowingly endanger the citizens of Solaria.” She recited, noticing that her grandfather’s eyebrows rose as she spoke from the very document he had created. “I have evidence that a citizen of Solaria was sentenced to Polaris through a rigged and closed trial. No recording of the trial has been filed within the archives. Said trial is for Saul Silva. Second, the Queen shall not employ her authority or magic in any manner that benefits herself or any other party should such use infringe upon the rights or safety of Solarian citizens. I hold evidence that my mother has employed her authority in a manner that benefits another party despite it infringing upon the rights or safety of Solarian citizens. This recording is a private conversation between Queen Luna and Headmistress Rosalind Hale, in regards to Farah Dowling and Bloom Peters, both of whom are now wanted fugitives in Solaria’s eyes. It also provides evidence that Rosalind is interfering in political matters between realms.”
Her grandfather didn’t speak at first.
He simply stared at the folder, his expression unreadable — too still, too measured. But Stella saw the shift: the way his shoulders drew back, the way his breath left him in a slow, heavy exhale. Not shock. Not disbelief.
Recognition.
As if some part of him had always known this moment would come.
When he finally lifted his gaze, the warmth she remembered from childhood was gone. Not replaced by coldness — but by something far heavier.
“Stella,” he said quietly, “do you understand what you’ve just placed before me.”
For once irritation shot through her at the question being asked.
“Do you understand what I’ve done coming to you? Do you understand the danger this entire trip puts me and my friends in? She’s my mother, I spent my entire life trying to make her love me, only to be considered her biggest disappointment. So yes grandfather I am well aware of what I have just placed before you.”
He didn’t physically react to her statement, simply staring at her for a long moment. Then he gave a single nod, sharp, controlled. Then he extended his hand, wordlessly requesting the folder. With cautious hands Stella handed it over, watching as his eyes scanned the first page, then the next. With each line, his jaw tightened.
A storm gathering behind a dam.
When he spoke again, his voice was low, steady… and edged with steel.
“I had hoped,” he murmured, “that your mother’s worst flaws were ambition and pride. But this…” He tapped the page with two fingers, not harshly, but with a weight that made Stella’s stomach twist. “This is a violation of her oath. Of her duty. Of the trust placed in her.”
He closed the folder gently — too gently — and set it on the table between them.
Then he looked at Stella, really looked at her, and she saw the disappointment there. Not in her. Never in her.
In Luna.
“I gave her the crown,” he said, voice roughening. “I gave her every opportunity to rise above her impulses. To lead with integrity. To prove me wrong.” His eyes darkened, amber turning stormy and wounded. “But she has always believed that power is something to be wielded, not earned.”
He stood, slowly, as if the weight of the truth had aged him in an instant.
“I feared she would one day cross a line,” he admitted. “But I never imagined she would cross so many.”
“As Queen of Solaria, she’s meant to protect her people, to think of their benefit.” Stella whispered before turning her gaze out the window to see snow slowly drifting down. “It pains me to know that my own mother could do any of this, could betray people so easily simply because of one person. But I have learned that Rosalind Hale is not simply one woman.”
“Rosalind Hale is a manipulative woman who believes herself far more important than she truly is. She has caused more harm to Solaria and the population of Alfea than many could see. I never approved of the hold she held over certain individuals — your mother included. I had hoped that the education your mother received outside of Alfea would have aided in balancing things, but my hopes were for naught.” He sighed before shaking his head. “Your mother has broken the contract she swore upon, and if these documents are as damning as they appear, then she has forfeited her right to the crown. All because of a manipulative woman.”
He rested his hand on the folder, fingers tightening slightly.
“When Farah Dowling took on the position of Headmistress, I won’t lie — I was worried. However, she proved me quite wrong. I have had a handful of conversations with her through the years. She is a remarkable woman who has led Alfea into the pride it has become. Her and her husband, Saul Silva. The man was a respectable man when we met.”
Just then a soft ting had Stella frowning. Reaching for her phone, she opened it to see the message — and paled.
Aisha: Study group has been canceled.
Her fingers froze on the screen, heart hammering. She swallowed, remembering how she and Aisha had agreed these seemingly mundane updates would serve as warnings. This was a clear statement to Stella. Do not return to Alfea, Rosalind knew she was gone, it was not safe.
Her grandfather’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong, Moonbeam.”
“My absence has been noticed at Alfea. Aisha overheard Rosalind calling my mother. It’s not safe to return.”
His expression hardened instantly — the shift sharp, decisive.
“Then you will remain here,” he declared.
“Adelaide…” she began.
“The man who came with you?” he asked.
“He is an employee of Alfea, a specialist, but he isn’t loyal to Alfea. We’ve had a few aiding us in trying to protect the students and gathering information. Adelaide volunteered to drive me here. It won’t be safe for him to return either.”
“Then he will stay as well.” His tone left no room for argument. “We will ensure both your safety and your plan. You will also tell me why Rosalind Hale has set your mother on this…Bloom Peters?”
“Bloom is a first year student. She’s a changeling and it's a long story, grandfather. All to say, Rosalind has her eyes on Bloom and we don’t entirely know why. What we do know is that Bloom is powerful, very powerful.” Stella explained before hesitating a moment, she didn’t know if telling her grandfather this was a good idea but she knew he had to know the details she did. “Bloom managed to unlock her wings,”
“Excuse me?” Her grandfather pushed, shock clear on his face and Stella couldn’t help but grin.
“She managed to form wings, killing a large number of Burned Ones when they breached the barrier after Rosalind drained it.”
“I’m sorry, Burned Ones breached the barrier of Alfea? Rosalind drained the barrier?”
The words came out sharper than anything he’d said so far — not shouted, but cut from something brittle and disbelieving. His posture stiffened, the calm authority he’d worn like a mantle fracturing at the edges.
Stella nodded, throat tight. “Yes. It happened the night Bloom unlocked her wings.”
He stared at her, truly stared, as if trying to determine whether she was exaggerating, mistaken, or lying — and finding none of those possibilities in her face.
“Rosalind Hale,” he said slowly, “tampered with the barrier protecting the most vulnerable magical population in Solaria.”
“I think I have a lot of things to tell you grandfather.” She remarked and though his expression looked pinched, he gave a firm nod.
“I do believe so, yes.”