Rosalyn Isabella Noelle Aurora.
It was a name as grand as her royal lineage, and yet she preferred the simplicity of Rina, a moniker that held an endearing charm when used by her father – Urtemis, king of Sylphrena – and closest confidants in the privacy of their chambers.
Short and sweet, Rina mused about her name as she gazed at the gown suspended before her. It was the attire designated for the impending ball, a ball that marked a momentous occasion—her fifteenth birthday, a day of great significance. It wasn't merely another year added to her age; it was the threshold from which she would gain answers to the questions that had perplexed her for as long as she could remember.
Rina reached for the dress, acknowledging that the hour of her public appearance was drawing near. Under normal circumstances, she would be encircled by personal maids and attendants, their meticulous care akin to polishing a gem before it graced the world's gaze.
However, she had asserted her desire to prepare alone, seeking these last solitary moments for herself. Her attendants complied, not wishing to mar the princess's birthday, but they couldn't resist assisting with her hair and countenance.
With the dress in hand, Rina made her way to the grand mirror. The mirrored wall reflected her silver hair, carefully braided down her back, its lustrous strands curving and resting upon her right shoulder. In the chandelier's radiant glow, her hair seemed to have captured threads of moonlight, woven into an exquisite crown. Even her eyebrows shimmered, arching gracefully above her eyes, providing contrast to their deep, obsidian depths—darker than the night before the first rays of dawn and deeper than endless tunnels boring through mountains.
Her cheeks bore no youthful plumpness, instead defined by prominent cheekbones, resembling finely sculpted bridges on porcelain terrain.
Rina puckered her rosy lips, grappling with her thoughts.
Who am I dressing up for? There will be no betrothal announcements tonight.
She longed for the simplicity of celebrating her birthday alone with her father, as she had for the past fourteen years. But the age of fifteen held significance; it was a moment when children presented themselves to the world, shedding the protective cocoon of parental shelter. At seventeen, they would officially reach adulthood. Rina comprehended the meaning and gravity behind this grand ball, yet... she still hated it.
A sigh escaped her lips, a tangible display of her inner conflict. In the end, she resigned herself to the dress. There was no point in delaying any further.
Made of the finest silk to be found across all three kingdoms, her gown was truly one of a kind. Specially tailored for this one occasion, destined to be worn once and then consigned to flames.
They had even given her dress a name, "Midnight Elegance," for it transcended being a mere piece of clothing; it was an artifact, a creation of magic. Though it wielded the most delicate form of magic, it possessed uniqueness and a special enchantment.
The fitted bodice of "Midnight Elegance" embraced her slender figure with a graceful elegance. Its off-the-shoulder design lent a touch of allure while maintaining the regal sophistication befitting a princess.
Like the midnight sky itself, it bore a rich, dark hue—a striking contrast to her silver hair. Subtle silver embroidery adorned the gown, mirroring the twinkle of distant stars, and layers of dark blue tulle flowed with a dreamlike grace, creating an enchanting effect as the princess swayed.
"This is too beautiful..." Rina's lips formed silent words.
At that moment, her irritation with the ball dissipated. The ballgown, a product of dreams, momentarily captivated her. Its beauty was simply undeniable.
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To complete her ensemble, a tiara and a necklace with a sapphire pendant rested on a meticulously crafted table near the mirror. Donning the tiara served as a poignant reminder of her impending role as the queen of Sylphrena—a revelation that would undoubtedly stun the nation when her father announced it in two years.
Why? For there existed an elder brother, the crown prince—Remian Tetis Etcheren Urtemis. Why, then, was she to ascend to the throne in his stead? She would soon learn the answer, but Rina couldn't resist the urge to speculate on this enigma.
On one occasion, her father had confided in her that Remian was deemed unfit for the throne. Yet what did "unfit" truly entail, and who had asserted her own capability? The solitary hint she had received was that everything would become clear after her fifteenth birthday. That hint had ignited her imagination, leading her down a labyrinthine path of conjecture.
From a young age, Rina had been subject to the most exemplary education and training, honing her intellect and capabilities. Consequently, what followed wasn't a complex deduction.
Her elder brother had recently celebrated his thirty-first year, a staggering sixteen-year age difference between the siblings. While his age might appear to be a mere numerical fact to an outsider, for Rina, it carried profound implications—it was the very reason for her existence.
If she was to uncover the secrets and requisites of ruling at the tender age of fifteen, then it stood to reason that Remian had undergone a similar process when he was her age. Whatever transpired, fifteen years ago, led to the judgment that Remian was unsuitable for the throne.
The weight of such a judgment was reflected in the mirror before her. Another potential heir to the crown, Rosalyn Isabella Noelle Aurora, had been born one year later to supplant her brother's perceived failure.
It was a logical decision, yet a heartless one. She was not the offspring of love, not a child born into a joyous family; she was a tool forged to rule, to uphold tradition, to continue the lineage of royalty. Despite her father's many declarations of love, in light of the purpose behind her existence, his words appeared cold and calculated.
And another long-standing question finally found its answer.
Why did her brother despise her? Why had he never engaged in playful moments when she was an innocent child, proudly showcasing her new toys? He always distanced himself, never once revealing the brotherly affection she yearned for. The reason was apparent; to him, she was a usurper, a thief who had stolen his crown and his rightful place as ruler.
The "Midnight Elegance" seemed to reflect the dark spiral of her thoughts. Rather than a dress for a birthday celebration, it felt more like a binding—an attire that strangled rather than embraced her body. Unseen chains called out to her, bearing the weight of responsibility and her father's towering expectations.
Rina took a deep breath to steady herself. She adorned the necklace around the flawless skin of her neck, fastening the clasp and thereby binding herself to an inevitable destiny. With everything now in place, she knew her attendants would call her soon.
But before that, she needed to scan herself for any flaws, a task made difficult through her watery eyes.
Stop crying, you are not a child anymore.
She fought back tears, as they would not serve her purpose, no matter how many drops threatened to disrupt her meticulously drawn, subtle makeup—smokey blues and silvers accentuating her dark eyes and silver hair.
There was no reason to cry. Rina had to emulate her father, a pinnacle existence who ruled from high above, equally revered and feared by his people—for he possessed the power to truly end a life.
In a world where the God of Life had confined death, and humans could be revived a certain number of times, the ability to extinguish a life was the defining factor separating royalty from commoners.
For a thousand years, the royal bloodlines had remained unchanged—a steadfast rule adhered to by all. This was the significance of a royal bearing a successor, usually only one child. In the case of a deemed unworthy heir, another would take their place.
This was Rina's fate.
It was a rarity for royals to have more than one child, as the rule stipulated. She knew of only one exception—her great-great-grandmother, the third ruler of Sylphrena. The Queen had defied rules and tradition, having many children. Furthermore, she was Rina's role model—a free-spirited queen. That was what she aspired to become, albeit perhaps with fewer kids.
Click-Clack
The sharp, rhythmic sound of her heels striking the smooth marble floor echoed with each step Rina took toward her open window. It was dark outside; the moon and starlight were the sole sources of illumination, too weak to fully reveal the royal garden's beauty but enough to silhouette its grandeur.
As she inhaled the cold, refreshing night air, Rina gazed toward the sky. Her silver hair rivaled the soothing light of the moon, and her deep black eyes, reflecting the myriad stars, gleamed as though they held an entire starry night within them.
Her reverie beneath the moonlight was short-lived as her head snapped toward the door, her ears catching a familiar sound.
Knock-Knock
In five minutes, a new day would dawn — her birthday.