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The Red Queen’s Dream

The afternoon light slipped into the room like it had been waiting for me — soft, patient, brushing over the deep red of the chair before it ever touched my skin. The thing looked almost too regal for its own good, carved and dramatic, the sort of chair that demanded presence.

So of course, I sat in it like I owned it.

The velvet warmed beneath me, my long red hair spilling downward until it merged with the upholstery. My lipstick matched too — a careless little coincidence I pretended wasn’t intentional.

It absolutely was.

The white of my outfit glowed against all that scarlet, like a challenge, like a spotlight I’d placed on myself. I shifted slightly, letting the fabrics draw their own shapes around me. Soft against bold. Cool against heat. A contrast that made me smirk inwardly.

I felt Moroi’s camera rise before I even heard the click of the lens.

He always gravitated to symmetry — balance, poise, the neat alignment of color and form.

I preferred the moments just before symmetry… when you break it on purpose.

So I turned my head over my shoulder, slow and deliberate, letting my hair spill across my collarbone. I wasn’t looking directly at him — not yet — but I let my expression soften into that dreamlike space between thought and mischief.

The lens caught it instantly.

Of course it did.

In that stillness, I let myself drift — not quite a memory, not quite a fantasy, but that sweet in-between place where you imagine what someone might do if you gave them permission.

Or if you didn’t.

The chair felt like a throne, and I settled into it deeper, letting the red swallow around me. My fingers traced the armrest lightly, as if testing the balance between power and play.

“Careful,” I whispered to no one and everyone.

“I might get used to being treated like royalty.”

The light shifted again, brushing my cheek, warming the red, softening the white.

And for a moment, I wasn’t posing at all.

I was simply dreaming…

of whatever — or whoever — waited just beyond the edge of the frame.