THE SHADOW BOUND CROWN

The grand hall of the castle had never looked more magnificent. Chandeliers glowed with golden candlelight, casting warm hues over the polished marble floor. Rich tapestries depicting great battles and the royal lineage hung proudly from the walls, while servants bustled about ensuring every detail was perfect. The scent of fresh roses, lilacs, and perfumed oils drifted through the air, mingling with the hum of anticipation. Slow calm music was being played the best of the artist the Kingdom had to offer. The matchmaking season had officially begun.

Every noble in the kingdom was present, arrived early enough, invitation in hand, their finest silks and embroidered tunics on display. Royalty from allied kingdoms stood among them,all in their official Royal gilded attire, that shimmered beneath the hall's golden light. Many had come ready to impress the pressure of their kingdoms on them.

Yet even among them some more noticeable than others, the two princes from the North for instance stood there calm, proud and sharp as they waited for the ceremony to start. The second prince from the Icevail Kingdom prince Lorien, one of the more notable figures. He stood there tall and lithe, with a regal posture that commands respect. His hair a cascade of silver-white , like freshly fallen snow, falling just past his shoulders and catching the light with an almost ethereal glow. His eyes a piercing pale blue, like the heart of a glacier, yet they hold a warmth that betrays his kind soul. His skin is fair, with a faint, natural luminescence that seems to shimmer in the cold light of his kingdom. His features are sharp yet elegant—high cheekbones, a straight nose, and a jawline that could cut glass. He wears a fur-lined cloak of deep blue, embroidered with silver thread, and a circlet of frost-forged silver rests upon his brow.

Beside him stood his younger blood sister who despite being younger, still had her charm, a living embodiment of winter's delicate beauty. Her hair a cascade of platinum blonde, so pale almost glowing like moonlight, flowing in soft waves down her back. Her eyes are a mesmerizing shade of frosty lavender, a rare and striking color that seems to shift like the northern lights, capturing the attention of anyone who meets her gaze. Her skin porcelain-smooth, with a faint blush of pink on her cheeks, as if kissed by the cold. Her features delicate yet striking—a small, straight nose, full lips the color of rose petals, and a heart-shaped face framed by a few loose strands of hair that escape her intricate braids.

She wore a gown of shimmering silver silk, adorned with intricate snowflake patterns embroidered in thread-of-silver. A delicate circlet of ice-forged crystal rests upon her brow, catching the light and scattering it into tiny rainbows. Around her neck, she wears a pendant shaped like a snowflake, a family heirloom said to hold ancient magic. 

Not far from the Ice vail siblings stood Prince Caelum, one of the many princes of the Therassara Kingdom another Titan Kingdom from the north. Although not the crown Prince there was rumor in his Kingdom of how his father the king favored his mother more and hence him too earning a high position and standing in Therassara . He is also strikingly handsome, but his beauty is edged with a dangerous allure. His hair is jet black, slicked back to reveal a face of sharp, almost predatory features. His eyes are a deep, stormy gray, like the ocean before a tempest, and they seem to pierce through anyone who dares meet his gaze. His skin is tanned from years spent under the sun, a stark contrast to Lorien's pale complexion. He wears a sleek, black-and-gold tunic adorned with sea serpent motifs, and a small crown of dark iron rests atop his head, studded with blood-red rubies. His smile is dazzling but rarely genuine, often curling into a smirk that hints at his arrogance.

He looks aloof from what is happening around him but when he locks eyes with Lorien a cold glint appears in his eyes before harrumphing and quickly looking away. Their Kingdoms are both located in the North both Behemoths in their own way only a treaty kept them at peace after long years of war between each other, but they still competed fiercely between the two Kingdoms. With striking differences, one been an Icy field and the Therassara Kingdom been a hot but full of other minerals.

Yet, despite the sea of elegance, two figures stood apart from the rest.

Evelyne, clad in a flowing sapphire gown adorned with delicate silver thread, radiated warmth and grace. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, and her soft, kind eyes drew admiration from every direction clad in a flowing sapphire gown adorned with delicate silver thread, radiated warmth and grace. Her golden hair cascaded down her back in loose, shimmering waves, catching the light like spun sunlight. Her soft, kind eyes, a gentle shade of hazel flecked with gold, seemed to hold a quiet understanding that drew admiration from every direction. Her skin was smooth and fair, with a faint blush on her cheeks that gave her a natural, rosy glow. Her lips, the color of ripe peaches, curved into a warm, inviting smile that put everyone at ease. She wore a slender silver circlet upon her brow, its delicate design resembling intertwining vines, and a single sapphire pendant rested at her throat, glinting softly against the fabric of her gown. Her hands, slender and graceful, moved with a quiet elegance as she gestured, and her presence carried an air of quiet confidence and compassion.

 By her side stood Lysara, strikingly beautiful but with a presence that was sharper, colder. Her deep crimson gown clung to her form, accentuating the strength beneath the royal fabric, its high collar and intricate black embroidery lending her an air of regal severity. Her fully silver hair, sleek and straight, fell like a dark waterfall down her back, contrasting starkly with her pale, porcelain skin. Her eyes, a piercing shade of icy blue, seemed to cut through the room with an intensity that demanded attention, yet offered no warmth. Her features were sharp and symmetrical—high cheekbones, a defined jawline, and lips painted a deep, commanding red. A crown of blackened silver rested upon her head, its jagged edges resembling frost-tipped thorns, and a blood-red ruby hung from a choker at her throat, catching the light with a fiery glint. Where Evelyne was welcoming, Lysara was untouchable—a contrast that only made them more captivating. 

This only solicited different reaction from the masses, the nobles gawked, the men breathless, the women envious. Their stepsiblings seethed in the shadows, forced once again to watch the true princesses steal the attention, they so desperately craved.

The two siblings quickly took their place at the front of the even and waited patiently . In no time King Edric arrived and after an applause he quickly hushed the excited crowd of young ones .

The king raised his goblet, his voice carrying over the hall. "Welcome, noble guests, to the great halls of Arendor. . It has been decades since my ancestors started this exciting and happy event which gives you people a chance at love of equal status and strengthens our bond with our neighbors and other Kingdoms, I wish everyone a happy stay at this prosperous Kingdom of Ravenshade .May this season bring new alliances, prosperous unions, and the strengthening of our realms."

A chorus of raised glasses and cheers followed, and the event officially began.

Lysara sighed, her patience already thinning. She mingled out of obligation, exchanging forced pleasantries, enduring mindless flattery. She needed air.

The hall was filled with noblemen and women, each vying for attention, exchanging compliments and flirtations with careful calculation. Princes from allied kingdoms, resplendent in their embroidered tunics and golden sashes, sought to impress the eligible daughters of the realm. Among them were Prince Dain of Viremont, a striking figure with storm-gray eyes and a silver-lined doublet, and Prince Alric of Belvar, known for his effortless charm and rich emerald attire. Among the many other royalty from the many present Kingdoms made the so long line of people who need pleasantries to be exchanged

The nobles whispered as Lysara passed, their gazes lingering. Some admired her beauty; others scrutinized her with wary curiosity. She could hear snippets of their murmured conversations—her name spoken with equal parts fascination and apprehension.

A duke's son attempted to engage her in conversation, offering a polished smile and words of admiration, but she responded with a practiced nod, her patience waning. A noblewoman praised her lineage, another sought to impress her with courtly wit, but each exchange felt hollow, a performance Lysara had no desire to partake in.

She glanced toward Evelyne, who, unlike her, navigated the crowd with effortless grace. Her sister was radiant, offering warm smiles and thoughtful responses, easing tensions and charming even the most rigid of guests.

Lysara clenched her jaw. The weight of expectation pressed upon her like a vice. Every interaction was a carefully spun web of alliances and ambitions, and she loathed every second of it.

She felt the walls closing in, the air growing thick with the scent of perfume and candle wax. She needed to leave before she lost what little composure she had left. She could not fathom that she had to endure this for almost two weeks.

With practiced subtlety, she maneuvered toward the edge of the gathering, slipping past distracted courtiers. Only one person saw her disappear—a pair of sharp, knowing eyes watching her from across the room.

Lysara did not look back. The night air awaited her, and with it, freedom.

 Hadrian and many other of her siblings remained occupied, his laughter echoing through the hall as he entertained noblewomen. He went all out trying to improve them with tales of his manly kingdom duties also approaching princesses from other Kingdoms knowing that a proper spouse from a stronger Kingdom could raise his status in court tremendously

Seizing the opportunity, Lysara slipped away, making her way to her chambers. She shed the suffocating gown, donning dark garb before disappearing into the fast-approaching darkness.