--- 3rd POV ---
--- 15th of April 1906 ---
"Since when?" she asked suddenly, her voice trembling, pain written clearly across her face.
Prince Consort Rohan and Maharajkumar Sharvil halted their conversation, their expressions tightening as they turned to her.
"Since when?" she repeated, louder now, her tea cup rattling slightly in her hand.
Rohan's smile faded as the weight of the moment bore down on him. "Kaʻiulani, it's not what you—"
"Do not dare say that to me," she interrupted, her voice sharp, the hurt thick in her throat. "Do not insult me with soft lies."
Sharvil's usual composure returned, but he did not interject. He was an Imperial Prince, but he was not her husband. This was not his battle to speak first. Yet, dissatisfaction and ridicule were what he is feeling while seeing the devastated face of Ka'iulani.
In Maharajkumar Sharvil's mind, Ka'iulani should have instead be grateful that she was able to lead this backward and dilapidated nation under Butuan's supervision. Not to mention that 'her beloved' nation was nothing during her family's independent rule compared to how it looks now under the influence of the Butuan Empire.
"This woman is an idiot and unable to see reality." Sharvil muttered to himself before losing interest and diverting back his gazes to the view on the outside while calmly sipping his tea.
On the other hand, Rohan sighed, his hands tightening at his sides. "Since the day I agreed to marry you," he confessed, voice low. "It was always part of the long plan. Not to conquer you… but to protect you, to ensure your people would thrive—even if… even if it meant Hawaiʻi would slowly become part of empire."
Kaʻiulani's eyes glistened, but no tears fell. "And you never thought I deserved to choose? You never thought I could stand and fight alongside you… or against you?"
Rohan stepped toward her, pleading now. "If I had told you, would you have let the Maharaja and the previous Queen? Would you have accepted it, knowing the alternatives? Would you even consider the agreement made?"
Ka'iulani remains in silence. Conflicting thoughts and emotions ravage her heart and minds on the possibility on how she would have reacted if she was aware about the deal prior to her union with her husband. Would she still continue the union? Or would she instead choose the path of refusal and maintain her nation's independence?
But on the other hand, if she indeed chooses the path of independence, she would have sacrificed her relationship with her husband, the family she is planning to build, and the possibility of her nation being sandwich between two great nations. Ka'iulani could not choose a better ground as on which side she has chosen back then, all will result to either her nation being obliterated of reduced to a mere province.
Yet, pride continues to surface on her heart due to her upbringing as a princess and the current Queen of Hawai'i. Her pride still clings to a small chance of alternate change if she has known the truth decided to refuse the union. In her prideful thought, allying with Britain would have been better.
It has been few seconds yet Ka'iulani remains in silence, her silence was an enough answer for Rohan. A disappointed look was thrown by Prince Consort Rohan to Queen Ka'iulani due to her silence. The woman he loves, he hoped to be more brilliant and understanding on what could her tiny nation could face have decided to remain in silence.
Silence, that made Rohan feel the feeling of betrayal. Maharajkumar Sharvil on the other hand have had enough on how things have revolved from a simple realization. For Sharvil, Ka'iulani despite attending prestigious institutions abroad remains to be far less intellect compared to an average Butuanon. For him, Butuanons along with few selected Asian races are far more superior in intellect compared to the rest.
Maharajkumar Sharvil finally spoke, his voice stead, neither soft nor intimidating. A simple voice hoping to end this boresome situation. "It was a necessary one."
Kaʻiulani turned her gaze to Sharvil, her expression hardening as tears started to fall from her eyes. "Necessary for whom? For Butuan? For the empire? Or for yourselves?"
Neither man answered. It was not because Maharajkumar Sharvil don't have a word to explain his nation's reason but because of how he is disinterested in further explaining to the woman the reality.
"You have your empire," she whispered, her voice brittle, "but I wonder… will you ever understand the weight of losing a kingdom, piece by piece, while still wearing its crown?"
Silence descended once more, save for the gentle rustling of palm leaves swaying in the coastal breeze.
Rohan lowered his gaze, his jaw tightening. He wanted to tell her she was wrong—that what they had built together wasn't a loss but a transformation, that it was a life carved from compromise, from the ugly necessities of empire. But the words caught in his throat, because deep within, he knew she was right.
He had orchestrated this fate. Piece by piece, quietly and carefully, until Kaʻiulani had awoken one day to realize her kingdom had already slipped away.
Maharajkumar Sharvil placed his teacup down with a soft clink, standing up with a deliberate grace. His expression betrayed only mild annoyance now, like a man tired of explaining the obvious to a stubborn child.
"Kaʻiulani," he said, blatantly disregarding her status as queen while subsequently brushing some imaginary dust from his cuff, "if your people had remained as they were—weak, divided, clinging to outdated traditions, not to mention savages—you would not have a kingdom to mourn. The Americans would have taken it from you, your people enslaved to their plantations, your culture nothing more than a footnote in their history books."
He stepped toward her with intimidation; his dark eyes cold but calm. "Butuan gave you a future. And still, you grieve as if we have stolen your soul. Learn when and where to appreciate some help, Ka'iulani."
Her hands trembled at her sides, fists slowly forming, her tears no longer falling but now streaked across her cheeks like war paint. But instead of looking like her ancestors during their chieftain era, she appears to look like a child throwing some tantrums.
"You think this is about survival?" Ka'iulani whispered bitterly. "You think this is about plantations and flags? This is about the quiet killing of my people. It is about watching my people slowly forget who they are, slowly dressing, speaking, and dreaming like the ones who now almost outnumber them."
Which is of reality as since the migration of thousands of Butuanons in Hawai'i, they have brought with them their traditions, clothing, and language; refusing to communicate with the natives using the local language. Thus, since majority of the businesses and schools uses Butuanon as the medium of speaking, the Hawaiians have no choice but to adapt.
Sharvil shrugged, unmoved. "Then you should blame time itself, not me. Change is inevitable. It is not Butuan's fault your people chose comfort over resistance."
Prince Consort Rohan finally stepped in, his voice tight, his patience worn thin. "That's enough, Sharvil."
But Maharajkumar Sharvil simply smirked, giving a shallow and mocking bow before turning away. "It seems my presence here is no longer appreciated. I shall take my leave. Your Majesties…" before Sharvil could even reach the door he paused and throws a meaningful look at Ka'iulani then to Rohan before speaking in a warning tone, "You are already late… Stay silent or face the consequence of betrayal, foundling."
Without waiting for dismissal or a reply from Ka'iulani, Sharvil walked away, his long robes trailing behind him, his courtiers; whom are waiting outside followed him without delay. The faint sound of his boots echoed down the marble hall until it vanished entirely.
As Maharajkumar Sharvil left the room with smile and elegance, Queen Ka'iulani's on the other hand were in no good condition as she felt infuriated after being called a foundling. The insult it has thrown to her heart completely closes her reason to further have a talk with her husband.
A suffocating feeling engulf Rohan and Ka'iulani as silence descended upon them after Sharvil left, the waves crashing softly in the distance.
Rohan turned to Ka'iulani again, reaching out, but she stepped back.
"I loved you," Ka'iulani said, her voice barely audible. "But I will not be the last queen of a forgotten people."
"Kaʻiulani—"
"Leave me," she commanded softly, her gaze distant, heavy with unspoken resolve. "For now."
Rohan hesitated, but the way her body closed itself off to him said more than words.
He bowed his head and left, leaving her alone on the balcony, her tears drying in the salty wind.
As the sun dipped lower into the Pacific, casting golden light across the palace, Queen Kaʻiulani remained still. Beneath the weight of betrayal, the of her family also being shadowed by this reality hunts her to her core. The thought of her being blamed for losing their nation from Butuan scares her. The humiliation and ridicule from her family and other individuals and be known as the 'traitorous Queen' could not sit well on Ka'iulani's system.
Thus, when night came, Ka'iulani decided to meet with her father, Aunt Liliʻuokalani, and uncle-in-law Charles Bishop at the ʻIolani Palace. It was still around 8 in the evening yet; the drawing room were already gloomy and dark. It was as if the entire room were saying its sympathy towards La'iulani's situation.
Outside the palace, the night was in complete silence royal guards were guarding the gates and doors of the palace like they usually do. But tonight were a bit different, cars suddenly arrived and with it are 3 of the most senior members of the Kalākaua Dynasty. Wearing their formal western styled clothing, Queen Father Cleghorn, Queen Emerita Liliʻuokalani, and Charles Bishop, all arrived simultaneously to the palace.
Ravaged by time and experienced in life, especially during the reign of Dole, the three individuals' gazes and aura shows wisdom and power, enough to make the courtiers and guards present tremble in intimidation. The three remains standing outside the palace stairs, observing the structure that symbolizes their family's power.
"The night's been almost high, what is this child of yours thinking on summoning us here, Cleghorn?" Bishop displeasingly voiced as he scanned his gaze towards the exterior of the palace before throwing a detestable look at Cleghorn.
Cleghorn, his cane tapping against the marble step, regarded Charles Bishop with a flicker of irritation. "She is still my daughter, Charles," he said firmly, though his voice betrayed the weariness that the years had carved into him. "And she is still your queen, whether you like it or not."
Bishop scoffed and laughs mockingly, adjusting his gloves with impatient jerks. "Queen by name, perhaps. But not in power. That crown is ornamental now an empty husk of its previous power and regal. The real power resides across the seas—on ships bearing the Bakunawa."
Liliʻuokalani remained silent, her cold gaze fixed on the grand entrance, her gloved hand gently brushing the silk folds of her gown. She had seen thrones rise and crumble, and she had learned long ago that survival meant choosing comfort over principle. Still, she had no patience for sentimentality.
She has easily given up the crown towards Dole in exchange of money and protection, and she have done the same in exchange of her family enjoying the luxury of money and protection provided by the Butuanons. To her, nothing is more important than her life and wealth.
"She is likely to cry to us tonight," Liliʻuokalani finally said, her tone laced with both amusement and warning. "She always was the sentimental one. Especially after her mother died and seeing poor children. Too soft for the weight of a crown. That's why we made the arrangements behind her back, for the betterment of the family."
Cleghorn gave her a sharp look, but Liliʻuokalani remained unfazed, her eyes glimmering faintly in the torchlight. "Do not forget, Cleghorn, that it was my signature that secured this agreement. Butuan's promise protects us from the Americans and the vultures that would have picked our bones clean. She may hate us now, but in time… she will thank us."
"She is not like us," Cleghorn muttered. "She still clings to the illusion that love and duty can coexist in an empire."
"That illusion will burn soon enough," Bishop grunted. "The world does not wait for dreamers. She must grow out from this illusion of hers."
A palace steward approached, bowing low. "Her Majesty is waiting for you in the drawing room."
Without another word, the three senior royals ascended the stairs with deliberate steps while being assisted by their respective courtiers. Their presence heavy with the ghosts of decisions already made. Even the guards whom have been guarding the palace were in complete attention, afraid of making a single mistake while the 3 most senior members of the royal family were present.
Even the steward, whom have been used to the presence of Cleghorn and the others is still experiencing a suffocating feeling on his chest. Queen Emeriti Liliʻuokalani, who is the previous occupant of the palace after deciding to pass the throne to her niece and deciding to retreat on a simple yet luxurious palace outside the capital have only step 3 times for the past years in the palace. Thus, it is normal for her to critique and observed every change made by her niece on the seat of power of their family.
Charles Bishop, whom is now being pushed by a wheelchair due to his aging bones catches the changes on Liliʻuokalani's face while observing the entire palace structure. A small calculated laugh was made, simple be noticed by Liliʻuokalani and Cleghorn.
Charles Bishop's faint, calculated chuckle echoed slightly in the silent corridor, a dry rasp that made the nearby stewards shiver though they dared not look his way.
"You disapprove, Liliʻu?" Bishop's voice cracked but retained its sharp edge. "Seems the child prefers silk over stone. I remember these halls when they were sober, when their weight could suffocate men into loyalty."
Liliʻuokalani didn't immediately reply. Her gloved fingers brushed delicately over the new gold trimmings that adorned the once austere pillars, her sharp gaze dissecting every modification Kaʻiulani had made to the palace since taking the throne.
"Pretty things," she murmured, her voice smooth as satin but layered with contempt. "Soft edges. Cushioned seats. Open windows instead of fortified blinds. A queen who dresses her palace like a theater stage, but forgets who writes the script."
She turned to Cleghorn, who remained silent but aware. "She wants to be loved by the people, you see. She thinks if she surrounds herself with comfort and beauty, it will make the crown lighter."
Charles Bishop's crooked grin widened, his hands resting on the worn handles of his wheelchair. "The crown is only light when it is empty."
Cleghorn's grip on his cane tightened. He glanced briefly at the palace guards lined stiffly along the corridor, each one holding their breath in the heavy presence of the trio.
"You mock her now," Cleghorn said in a low, warning tone, "but that girl has more fire in her than you think. She is not the quiet child you both believe she is."
Despite knowing the truth and he might have unknowingly aligned himself with Liliʻuokalani, Cleghorn would still defend his daughter. Partially might be because she is his daughter but most of it is because if his daughter remains in power, despite building its foundation on sands, he still gains a lot from this. Currently, Cleghorn enjoys ¥14,000 or $21,000 per year, enough to maintain his lavish lifestyle and gambling addiction.
And him having his daughter out from the throne means him having not to receive any yearly allowances from the government, and Cleghorn cannot accept this. For him, he has worked hard in the past just to be fully incorporated within the family and have his daughter became queen, he won't let anyone just undid his years of cultivation.
Liliʻuokalani's laughter was soft but cold, her heels clicking sharply as she continued walking. "Fire? Perhaps. But fire without a hearth burns itself out."
"She summoned us tonight," Bishop added, his voice darkening, "to what? Beg for a reversal? Or to spit her defiance? Either way, it is amusing she still believes she holds the power to make demands. It has been years since Hawai'i became a vassal of Butuan and will only took few more years before this nation fully became a province. Her tantrums will bring her into nothing."
"She is still the Queen," Cleghorn reminded them. His voice carried a quiet strain of sorrow, a father's lingering guilt. "Even if her throne rests on sand."
"And sand washes away," Liliʻuokalani said flatly, pausing just before the great doors of the drawing room. Her hand hovered briefly over the polished wood, her expression briefly tightening as if some old memory clawed its way to the surface. She pushed it aside.
"She may have dressed these halls with flowers, but we built them with iron."
Without waiting for further words, Liliʻuokalani signalled to the steward. The grand doors opened with a slow groan, revealing Kaʻiulani standing at the far end of the room, her back to them, her silhouette illuminated by the flickering lanterns and the pale moon beyond the arched windows.
The three seniors entered, their footsteps and wheels echoing over the polished tiles, their courtiers following at a respectful distance.
Kaʻiulani did not turn immediately.
Her voice, when it came, was calm but carried a steel edge.
"It's fitting, don't you think?" she began. "That the people who taught me to bow… are the same ones who expect me to kneel."
Liliʻuokalani's lips curled in a faint smile. "We taught you to rule, my dear. Bowing is simply survival. Besides, isn't us bowing resulted on you in power?"
Kaʻiulani caught off-guard bit her lower lip while clinching her fist in anger. She's unable to speak something nor defend her current situation as it is of truth. Because of her family bowing towards the Butuanons, she was in power in Hawai'i. Yet, it was her pride as a royalty that made her unable to accept everything.
"And kneeling?" Kaʻiulani asked, finally turning to face them, her gaze piercing, her royal regalia subtly yet purposefully simplified tonight—no golden chains, no flamboyant feathers—only the bare crown, her identity stripped to its most resolute form.
Charles Bishop chuckled again, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the leather armrest of his chair. "Kneeling is optional. Losing is not."
Kaʻiulani's eyes flicked to her father. "And you, Father? Did you ever believe in me… or was I simply another pawn, another fragile piece on the board?"
Cleghorn's jaw clenched, his silence more telling than a confession.
Liliʻuokalani stepped forward with slow, deliberate grace, as if the years had done nothing to her spine.
"You were a necessary piece, Kaʻiulani. And necessary pieces rarely get to decide where they stand."
Kaʻiulani's fingers balled into fists at her sides, but she did not tremble.
"Then I shall decide now," she said, voice firm. "I will not wear this crown if it is nothing but a chain. I will not rule a people destined to forget themselves."
"And what will you do?" Liliʻuokalani asked with mock curiosity. "Revolt? Tear down the palace your ancestors built? Defy the empire you married into?"
Kaʻiulani's gaze did not waver.
"If needed," she whispered, "yes."
The room chilled.
Bishop's smile finally slipped. Cleghorn closed his eyes briefly, weary of the storm brewing in his own blood.
"You would plunge your people into ruin," Liliʻuokalani said, her tone more serious now. "Butuan will not suffer your rebellion. They will extinguish it before your banners even rise."
"Perhaps," Kaʻiulani admitted. "But it is better to lose fighting for something real than to live comfortably as a ghost."
Her words hung like a blade between them.
For the first time, the three elders saw her not as a child, not as a figurehead—but as a threat.
"We will not support you," Bishop said quietly.
"I know," she replied, already turning toward the open balcony, her resolve hardening like stone. "I won't need you."
Liliʻuokalani's eyes narrowed, her gloved hand brushing the carved edge of her cane. "Then you will find yourself very, very alone."
Not long after Liliʻuokalani said her last sentence, a commotion suddenly happed outside the drawing room. Shouts of defiance and horror from female courtiers stationed outside have reached the ears of Liliʻuokalani and the others. Confusion appears on Kaʻiulani's face while Cleghorn, Bishop, and Liliʻuokalani were displaying a calm and collected expression.
Not long before Kaʻiulani realizes that something is wrong and her confused expression suddenly turns into horror before finally settling into resignation. Realizing that her family, whom she has trusted and cared for even until tonight have finally decided to make a move against her before she can even do a thing.
Kaʻiulani subconsciously touches her stomach, wanted to protect the child she currently carries. No one knows that she is carry a child and she plans to surprise her husband tonight but everything went bad and chaotic. Thus, she decided to keep it to herself and find ways in the future to escape and raise her child away from her husband's gaze.
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Sorry, everyone! I was too busy for the past weeks. But I will still try to upload new chapters in the future. Hope you'll enjoy the story! Kindly continue supporting my story guys!