The entire night, I found no sleep. On one side, the storm raged, and on the other, my thoughts churned. In just a few hours, the whole kingdom will meet Princess Vespera. But will this really be the last day I live behind closed doors? Will I finally be able to move freely after this celebration? Have the King and Queen truly kept me locked away all these years for that reason alone? No, that can’t be everything. My father’s eyes are always filled with hatred when they meet mine.
Before I can sort out my thoughts, the first rays of the new day greet me. There is no trace left of last night’s storm, only the earthy scent of petrichor lingers in the air. This unexpectedly peaceful morning feels strange to me, but I push the feeling aside. I need to focus on preparing for today.
Father had mentioned that important guests from distant lands are expected. Perhaps among the sons of these lords, there will be some interesting personalities—maybe today I’ll even meet my first great love? Excitement builds within me as I stifle a joyful squeal and press my face into my pillow. The birds chirp outside, and the sky is a brilliant blue. But as soon as my bedroom door opens, the happiness that had filled me just moments ago fades.
Queen Mayyira enters the room. Her face shows no trace of emotion, cold and distant as always. Behind her, the servants stand with lowered heads, humbly waiting for her orders.
My gaze falls on the mannequins the male servants carry in, arranging them in a circle in the center of the room. Each of these mannequins wears a breathtaking dress in a different color. They are masterpieces, each one unique. When was the last time I saw such magnificent gowns? It must have been an eternity ago. Since my father took away all my colorful clothes and replaced them with simple, plain fabrics, I’ve looked like one of the servants. The Queen had ordered it—she said it was for my safety. Allegedly, she wanted to prevent another assassination attempt, like the one four years ago, when a stranger tried to kill me. At that time, one of the servants sacrificed herself at the last moment and saved my life. Perhaps that explains the frightened behavior of the staff.
As the mannequins stand before me in their vibrant dresses, I can feel the cold atmosphere in the room. The Queen’s eyes rest calmly on me. She’s waiting for me to say something—but not what she wants to hear. She’s looking for a reason to humiliate me. Even though my father claims the celebration is for me, I know the Queen will do everything to steal the spotlight. She wants to remind me again that I no longer matter since her arrival. My own father supports her, even though she seeks to harm me.
Why am I even looking forward to this celebration? The people who are supposed to be my family treat me like a stranger. Why do I desperately try to be happy? Wouldn’t it be wiser to listen to the mysterious voice and simply disappear? No one would notice if I were gone.
“What is it?“, hisses the Queen, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Don’t you like the dresses? Aren’t they good enough for a princess?”
I quickly shake my head, unable to find the right words. I hate this woman, but I can’t bring myself to fight back. I used to try often, but every time my father punished me. He banned me from the garden, locked me in my room, or took away things that mattered to me. I remember when he ripped the head off my favorite doll when I was six years old.
At some point, I stopped resisting. It only brought more punishment. And since then, I haven’t heard the voice that once kept me company in a strange way.
The preparations continue quietly and methodically. Every servant knows their role, moving smoothly and efficiently like well-oiled cogs in a machine. Meanwhile, I sit silently, my heart heavy and my thoughts in turmoil.
The wine-red dress I point to feels like a symbol of Queen Mayyira’s power over me. Every detail of my life is controlled by her, down to the clothes I wear. As beautiful as the dress is, it feels like another shackle—a further layer of the gilded cage I’m trapped in.
As the servants begin to prepare me for the celebration, I let my gaze wander over the shimmering fabrics and sparkling decorations. Everything is so lavish, so extravagant—and yet I feel like a doll in a display case, polished to perfection and put on show, with no control over my own life.
My thoughts drift again to my parents. The question of their relationship, of what once bound them, gnaws at me relentlessly. What if my mother once lived as I do—trapped in a life she didn’t choose? The thought hurts, yet it seems all too likely.
While the servants wash my hair, their cold hands working through my scalp, I glance again at the dress. The color of wine—deep, almost bloody—reminds me of sacrifice, of devotion, of something dark and inescapable. It’s more than just a dress; it’s a symbol of the power dynamics in this castle.
And yet, despite everything, I force myself to maintain the façade. The smile stays on my face, even though my heart speaks otherwise. It’s the smile of a princess who has learned to hide her own feelings because there’s no one who truly sees them.
I stand before the mirror, staring at myself in the wine-red dress that makes me look like a stranger. Every fold of fabric, every curl in my hair seems perfectly arranged, yet I feel torn inside. Today is supposed to be the most important day of my life—a day that will determine whether I will finally regain some freedom. The hope tied to it fights against the crushing fear that won’t leave me. One small mistake, and everything could be in vain.
The memory of the floating figure I saw yesterday suddenly reappears in my mind. At first, I thought it was just a fleeting shadow, something insignificant amidst all the chaos. But the more I think about it, the more I feel that her appearance wasn’t by chance. Whoever she was, it seems like this mysterious person is connected to the storm—and to me. The strange voice I heard must belong to her.
Although today could be so crucial for my fate, an invisible weight hangs over me. On one side is Queen Mayyira, waiting for an opportunity to bring me down. I know she’ll seize any chance to humiliate me and weaken my position in the palace. On the other side lies the uncertainty of this floating figure—an unknown threat or perhaps even help, I don’t know.
I hear the voice of a servant, pulling me from my thoughts. She informs me that I’m ready. When I meet her gaze through the mirror, I’m momentarily surprised. It’s been so long since one of them spoke to me so directly. Once, I wouldn’t have even noticed the silence, but today I feel the loneliness of this quiet life all the more. And when I see the smile, small as it may be, on her lips, warmth spreads through my heart.
“You’ve done wonderful work”, I say sincerely, pleased to see the fleeting expression of satisfaction on their faces.
For a moment, I forget the burden weighing on my shoulders. But as the servants bow and leave the room to escort me to the ballroom, the heaviness returns. Time is running out, and the ball draws near.
Today will decide whether I will ever again set foot in the garden of my childhood—or if I will remain forever in this golden cage.
As I enter the ballroom, I am immediately enveloped by an atmosphere of glamour and elegance. The room is filled with people, all appearing in magnificent garments, chatting, laughing, or dancing with one another. They all belong to the nobility, influential figures serving my father and the kingdom. Yet none of them truly takes notice of me. I am invisible to them, a shadow amidst this dazzling spectacle. It feels strange to be here, in a place I could only dream of from afar until now.
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My eyes wander over the hall, illuminated by opulent chandeliers and bathed in warm, golden light. Every detail seems carefully considered: the elaborate decorations, the richly set tables, the delicate appetizers, and exotic fruits. It is as if every corner of this space has been designed to impress, to showcase the power and wealth of my father.
But what fascinates me the most is the stage at the end of the hall. Two tables sit on a high podium, each adorned with two chairs. It is clear that these are intended for the queen and my father. A vague feeling rises within me that I too might soon take a seat up there—or at least could, if everything goes according to plan today.
As I walk past the other guests, I listen to the conversations revolving around wealth, possessions, and displays of power. A man is laughing as he tells a story about his wife, who bought expensive gold chains behind his back, even though she already owns a dozen. His conversation partner laughs along, and although I find the scene a bit absurd, it also brings a small smile to my face. These conversations are superficial, yet they show me how easily these people navigate their luxury and power. For them, everything is a game—one in which I know all too well that there are many losers.
The scent of wine and fresh fruits fills the air, and the classical music from the orchestra, which plays only for special occasions and solely at the king’s behest, adds to the festive atmosphere. All of this reminds me of how isolated I have lived until now. I have never been allowed to participate in these celebrations, never been part of this illustrious circle. Until today, I was always just the princess who could only listen from afar, her head stretched far out the window to catch a glimpse of the joyous atmosphere.
But today is different. Today I am here, in the midst of this splendid hall, surrounded by the most influential people in the kingdom. And they are all here because of me. Part of me feels proud, but at the same time, a heavy burden rests on my shoulders. I know that this evening will determine whether I will ever again experience the freedom I once found in the gardens of my childhood. Everything depends on this moment—on my ability to meet the expectations my father and the queen have of me.
“Amazing”, I hear a deep male voice behind me, causing me to turn abruptly. A handsome young man stands before me, his appearance suggesting he is a few years older than I am. His shoulder-length blonde hair falls loosely over his shoulders, and his curiously sparkling brown eyes observe me intently.
He raises his hands in a calming gesture, a smile on his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just... your dress really stands out.”
Confused, I look around and realize that I am indeed the only one wearing a red dress.
“And one more thing”, he continues, his voice now admiring, “You are the first person I’ve ever seen with white hair. Which family do you belong to?”
Which... family? He has no idea that he is speaking to the princess of the kingdom! How could he? Until recently, everyone thought I was dead. Besides, I haven’t inherited any of my father’s striking features—he has dark brown hair, while mine is as light as snow.
“We’re a rather unknown family”, I lie, hoping he doesn’t notice my uncertainty. “My father was only recently appointed lord. It will surely take a few days for it to get around.”
“Ah, that explains why your face is unfamiliar to me”, he quickly concludes. “By the way, I’m Sylas, son of Lord Velqorin.”
Lord Velqorin? The Lord Velqorin? The man who supposedly defeated an army single-handedly and brought my father the head of their leader? That this notorious warrior is here today shouldn’t surprise me. He is now among my father’s closest confidants.
Sylas extends his hand to me, and I take it hesitantly. “Ves”, I say. “Daughter of Lord Varus.”
“Lord Varus?” He furrows his brow as if the name is unfamiliar to him. “I’d really be interested to know why your father was appointed lord.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know”, I reply innocently. “My father wants to keep me away from all these cruel stories.”
Sylas nods in understanding. “He must be an honorable man. I would very much like to meet him.”
Meet? You’ve only known me for a few minutes, and already you want to meet my fabricated father? How does he come up with this idea?
“Where are your parents?“, he then asks, looking around the ballroom.
Of course, it’s impossible for him to find my nonexistent parents in this crowd, but I need to come up with another lie quickly.
“My mother has unfortunately passed away”, I say, feeling the genuine pain in my words, which I don’t even have to hide.
“I’m so sorry!“, Sylas quickly apologizes, visibly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have asked so thoughtlessly. Especially not when you’re standing here alone. All the other daughters are with their mothers. Forgive me.”
I wave it off, smile at him, and try to dispel the rising discomfort. “It’s been a few years. By now, I can handle the pain better. As for my father, he’s surely here somewhere. He had to have an important conversation and asked me to wait here.”
Sylas thoughtfully places his hand behind his ear as he listens to the music floating through the hall. Then he looks at me with a smile and gestures towards the dance floor. “May I ask you for a dance?”
My heart begins to race, and a strange warmth spreads through my body. He extends his hand to me again, but this time his posture is almost noble, his smile inviting and charming. Our eyes meet, and it feels as if time has stopped. Is this the feeling everyone talks about? Falling in love?
Without exchanging a word, I place my hand in his, and he gently leads me to the center of the hall, where numerous pairs are already dancing to the music. Yet, as we join the circle, I can’t shake the feeling that all eyes are on me. Despite the stares, I cannot look away from Sylas. My knees suddenly feel weak, and a thrilling tingle begins in my stomach. It’s as if the entire world around us fades away.
“You’re quite good at this”, Sylas suddenly says, his voice soft and filled with surprise. My heart leaps. “Usually, the boy leads, but right now, I’m letting you lead.”
“I just enjoy the music, and my feet do the rest”, I admit, smiling nervously.
He looks at me, obviously impressed, but I know that men often don’t like it when a woman takes control.
But before I can pursue the thought further, he calmly replies, “That’s fine. If you can dance better, you should lead.” A soft laugh accompanies his words. “You’re a very interesting girl, Ves.”
It’s not just his words that make my heart race, but this charming smile that effortlessly brightens his whole expression. Everything about him—his voice, his presence—feels familiar, even though we’ve only just met today. Is this... love?
“You seem to be having a good time”, suddenly interrupts an all-too-familiar voice, breaking the moment. I look up and see Queen Mayyira’s face directly in front of me. “Princess Vespera, you seem to have found yourself an entertaining companion.”
“Princess?“, Sylas repeats the word quietly, his eyes widening as the realization sinks in.
Immediately, he lets go of my hand and kneels. The people around us have stopped, and I feel the curious gazes on us.
The queen crosses her arms over her chest and speaks with cool authority: “Your father is expecting you, Lord Velqorin.”
He quickly stands up, bows to the queen, and gives me one last regretful look before disappearing into the crowd. The warmth that had enveloped me just moments ago fades with his departure, as if it had never been there.
The queen snaps her fingers, and a small man steps to her side. In his black suit and white gloves, he looks like a servant, but he isn’t part of our entourage. Who is he?
“Servant, take the princess to Lord Louweris, our important guest”, commands Queen Mayyira in an authoritative voice.
Lord Louweris? Who could that be? Another lord like Sylas? Has she sent away my dance partner to pair me with someone else? Who is this Lord Louweris?
The servant bows and guides me through the crowd. My eyes desperately search for Lord Velqorin, who made my evening so special and will always remain in my memory. But I can’t find him and eventually give up.
The servant stops in front of a door hidden in a dark corner of the hall and opens it for me. As I step inside, the door clicks shut behind me, making a soft sound that startles me.
“Princess Vespera”, speaks a man at the other end of the room, rising to his feet. “I have been waiting for you.”
“Lord Louweris?“, I ask, confused, as I had expected a boy my age. “Queen Mayyira said you wanted to speak with me?”
“Indeed”, replies the man, who must be the age of my father. “I wanted to meet you personally beforehand.”
“Beforehand?“, I repeat, trying to grasp his intention. “What do you mean by that, Lord Louweris?”
The man steps closer, and with the door behind me, I cannot back away. His presence is threatening, and a tremor grips my knees. He runs his fingers through my hair and gently places his hand on my cheek.
“Our marriage, Princess Vespera”, he reveals with a satisfied smile. “From this day forward, you will be Lady Louweris.”