The Crown Prince's Remorse From My Grave of Unending Frost

I am the daughter of a renowned physician, and for five years, I was the Crown Prince's consort.

It took His Highness two years after my death to finally remember I existed.

He descended upon our humble cottage in the countryside, seeking my bloodthe only antidote to save his precious princess.

My mother met him at the door. "You are too late," she told him. "Grace is gone."

He waved a dismissive hand, his brow furrowed in impatience. "Must she cling to such a petty grudge? A few lashes were nothing."

"Tell her, as long as she can cure the princess, I will permit her return to the manor. That is mercy"

The man stood in his silks and finery, a stark contrast to the mud and poverty of our home.

It had rained a few days prior, leaving the ground muddy and uneven. Arthur's shoes were caked with thick mud.

He glanced down in disgust, his voice cutting through the quiet country air, "Grace, get out here now! Must I have you dragged out?"

As soon he spoke, the door creaked open.

It was my mother, aged and bent by grief, who emerged.

When Arthur saw her, his eyes flashing with annoyance, "Where's she? Tell her to get out here."

My mother's voice was soft but firm. "I speak the truth. Your consort died two years ago."

A harsh, disbelieving laugh escaped him. "A woman like her does not die so easily."

"She must be hiding on purpose because she knows Vivian needs her blood."

After speaking, he scanned the surroundings with hawk-like eyes.

When he still didn't see me after a while, Arthur sneered coldly, "Search it."

"Tear this wretched place apart if you must, but find Grace for me."

His guards shoved past my mother, their heavy boots trampling through our small home..

They even checked the well and the haystackno corner was left unturned.

Mother leaned against a wooden post to steady herself, "Before she died, she said she never wished to see you again. In this life or the next. Your Highness, please leave us in peace."

Arthur's face instantly darkened, he snarled, "She's the daughter of a renowned physicianimmune to all poisons. How could she simply perish?"

"I'll say it one more timehand Grace over, or you will learn the price of defiance."

Being immune to poison doesn't mean being invulnerable to blades or clubs.

A hundred lashes kill any man, let alone a woman already broken.

When Arthur saw Mother shaking her head silently, his fury peaked, "Do not think your age protects you. Vivian's life is in the balance."

"Vivian's condition won't wait. I'll give you three days. If you still refuse to hand her over, you can expect the dungeon's torture devices."

With a final, contemptuous glance, he turned and left, his guards following like shadows.

I never expected Arthur would threaten Mother's life to force me to appear.

But I've been dead for two years.

I died on the day of his coronation.

After five years of marriage, I knew Arthur wellhe always kept his word.

I circled around my mother anxiously, begging her to run away, to go anywhere far from here, to save herself.

Mother seemed to feel my presence. She bent slowly, picked up a fallen portrait from the mud, and held it to her chest, and smiled.

A faint, sorrowful smile touched her lips. "My Grace, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be with you soon."

Then she bent over, coughing violently. Soon, a stain of fresh blood in her palm.

Tears I could no longer feel streamed down my face uncontrollably.

After my father's death, her health had never been good.

While I was alive, I could still help nurse her back to health.

But after my death, no one was left to care for her.

I had promised my father I would protect her. I never thought I would be the first to leave.

If I could do it all over again, I would have left Arthur to die in the valley that year!

Three days later, Arthur returned as promised, supporting a pale-faced Vivian, he saw that only Mother was there alone.

Displeased, he frowned,

"I misjudged her," he said coldly. "I never thought she would be so selfish as to abandon her own mother."

"Madam," he continued, his tone shifting to a false reasonableness. "Think carefully. As long as you tell me where she is, not only will you avoid suffering, but if she can cure my Vivian, I will forgive her previous disrespect. She may even keep her title."

He believed he was offering a grand concession.

I should be grateful and willingly offer my blood and flesh to cure his love.

But what he never expected was that I was already a ghost.

Arthur's words reopened the wound of my death anew.

My mother's eyes reddened, and she said tremulously, "Arthur, I have told youmy Grace is already dead. You gave the order yourself two years ago. Have you forgotten?"

The use of his name without title was too much for him. "How dare you! How can a common rural woman like you address me so casually?"

" Correct her."

A stern-looking old maid stepped forward and struck my mother twice across the face. The sound was sickening. Her cheeks swelled up instantly, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

A rage I had not felt since death consumed me. I lunged at him, trying to fight him, but my hands passed right through his body.

I knelt on the ground, glaring at him with hatred, wishing I could tear him apart.

Arthur's patience was gone. He narrowed his eyes coldly, "You cannot shield her by pretending she is dead."

"If anything happens to Vivian, your daughter will pay with what remains of her wretched life."

Seeing his anger, Vivian nestled in his arms and coaxed softly, "Your Highness, if Grace will not come, her resentment of me must run too deep."

"I have no luck left. I only hope to spend my final days by your side."

Hearing Vivian's soft sobs, Arthur held her tighter, heartbroken, "Vivian, don't say such things. I will find Grace. Her blood can cure any poison. I won't let anything happen to you."

Touched, Vivian nodded and leaned weakly into Arthur's embrace.

In the place he couldn't see, a cold glint flashed in her eyes.

My mother watched them and let out a hoarse, broken laugh, "Haha... retribution! This is all retribution!"

"You killed my Grace back then. Now she suffers from a rare poison with no cure. Heaven is just!."

Arthur's gaze sharpened to a lethal point.

The maid stepped forward and slapped her several more times. Blood flowed freely from my mother's mouth.

As if numb to pain, my mother laughed until tears streamed down her face.

Arthur watched coldly and snorted, "I will break her silence. Take her to the dungeons."

Seeing my mother's suffering, a bloodthirsty hatred nearly consumed me.

Two years had passedwhy, after all this time, would they still not letting me go?

Two years ago, the court was thrown into chaos when Vivian fell into a mysterious coma.

The finest physicians in the empire were baffled. It was a traveling shaman, eyes rolling back in his head, who declared her a victim of dark magica curse.

Soon after, the Captain of the Guard found what he was looking for, a small, crudely stitched poppet, inscribed with Vivian's birth date, hidden among my belongings.

The case was sealed when a maid, her eyes downcast, swore she saw me weaving spells by candlelight.

My protests of innocence were like whispers in a storm. In our kingdom, dark magic was a sin punishable by a torturous death.

Arthur... the man I had loved for five years...was consumed by a rage I had never seen. He personally ordered me to receive a hundred lashes and be expelled from the manor.

I begged him tearfully, "I'm still carrying your childa hundred lashes will kill us both."

In his fury, he shoved me away, "A viper like you is not fit to be the mother of my heir."

Before the punishment was carried out, he made them force a bitter draught down my throat. A potion to purge his child from my womb.

As I convulsed on the cold stone floor, wracked with the agony of losing our baby, Vivian herself appeared.

A thin, cruel smile played on her lips as she took a dagger and methodically severed the tendons in my wrists and ankles.

"So you won't squirm too much," she whispered. Then, as a final humiliation, she gave me to the guards for their sport.

Once she had vented her anger, I was tied to the punishment bench. She ordered the executioners to aim every strike at my waist and vital areas.

For three days and nights, my screams were the only music in that dungeon. Then, there was silence.

My broken body was tossed into the paupers' pit, food for carrion.

It was my mothermy frail, aging motherwho fought off the wild dogs to reclaim my remains.

She dragged my mutilated corpse, she collapsed weeping before the crown prince's manor, demanding justice for her daughter.

But that day was not for justice. It was the day of Arthur's official coronation as crown prince and Vivian's investiture as princess consort.

The manor was decorated festively, full of joy. The sound of laughter and music drowned out her sobs.

The guards found us an eyesore and dragged us away like common rubbish.

How could Arthur naively believe I could have survived under those circumstances?

Now, as Vivian's condition worsened and my mother, beaten and bruised, still refused to reveal my whereabouts,

Arthur's eyes turned murderous, "Guards! Take this old woman to the dungeons. Let us see how long her silence lasts there."

Two guards immediately seized Mother.

In the struggle, a small, rolled portrait fell from Mother's embrace, landing at Arthur's feet.

Frowning, he bent down to pick it up.