As I walked through the grand hall toward the dining room, the sound of my steps echoing softly against the marble floors, a familiar figure appeared at the far end. It was Zein.
He was already impeccably dressed for the evening, his black tunic and dark silver embroidery reflecting the hall's dim chandelier light. As usual, his expression was cold and unreadable—like a winter morning frost that refused to melt. His posture was perfect, radiating the taut control of a man who spent his days navigating the shark-infested waters of the Prince's court. Yet beneath that icy exterior, I knew he was the kindest soul in our household.
A few steps behind him, speaking quietly to Father's chief advisor, was Fin. Fin, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He has always been my anchor, my second father. No matter how difficult I could be, Fin never turned his back on me. He was warmth, reassurance, and an ever-present shield.
Zein's cold gaze swept over the hall and settled on me. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a silent question about my state of health, but he didn't move. He simply acknowledged my presence with a subtle, controlled dip of his chin. Fin, however, instantly disentangled himself from the advisor. His sharp, worried expression instantly softened into a familiar, protective smile that reached his eyes. He crossed the distance quickly, a solid, comforting presence.
"There you are, Princess," Fin murmured, using the affectionate title he knew I tolerated from him. He rested a hand briefly on my shoulder, a steady, grounding weight. "You look tired. Did you sleep at all?"
I met his concerned gaze, grateful for his perceptiveness, but quickly masking the lingering fatigue. "Of course, Fin. Just studying too hard, as usual." The partial truth was a well-honed habit. Knowing both of them stood guard over my evening, I felt the last lingering threads of my morning exhaustion finally dissipate, replaced by the cool, sharp focus of the true Princess Dravina.
The dinner table was a heavy expanse of polished mahogany, currently laden with silver platters and crystal glasses. My parents sat at the head, Fin and Zein across from each other near the center, and I was nestled in a seat that suddenly felt too exposed.
"Dravina," my father's deep, commanding voice pulled me from my thoughts, slicing through the polite clatter of silverware. "I heard you visited the Palace of Vesperianth. How was it? How were you and Ashen? Did you two… get along well?"
My fork froze halfway to my mouth. Shookt. I wasn't prepared for that question. My mind went completely blank as heat rushed to my cheeks, instantly betraying my inner turmoil.
"Uhmm…" I cleared my throat, desperately trying to act casual, focusing fiercely on a piece of roast beef. "All good. He's… been very kind, so… yeah."
Fin's sharp eyes flickered toward me with a slow, knowing smirk, a silent, deeply irritating confirmation that my attempt at casualness was an epic failure. Zein just raised an unimpressed brow, a gesture that clearly communicated: That feeble response is all you have? Pull yourself together, Princess.
My mother, amused by my flushed face, let out a delicate laugh. "Kind, hmm? Only kind, my dear? You spent the better part of the afternoon at his side. Did he at least offer you his arm? Or perhaps a flower from his garden? He is the most sought-after bachelor in the capital, you know. Kindness is merely the bare minimum."
My father chuckled softly. "He's testing your composure, Daughter. The future Queen must be able to describe her King with more conviction than 'kind.'"
I immediately lowered my head, staring intently at my half-full plate, wishing the table linen would suddenly transform into a black cloak of invisibility. I gripped my fork, using the physical pressure to ground myself.
I finally managed to lift my head, forcing my face into the mask of regal neutrality I usually wore. "I meant to say, Father," I declared, my voice now smooth and steady, "that the Prince is perfectly adequate to the task of future King. And I am perfectly prepared to be his Queen." It was a cold, practiced dismissal, and it was enough to finally silence the playful teasing.
"Anyway…" I took a deep breath, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of my seat as I gathered my courage. "Mother, Father, there's something I've been meaning to ask."
"Oh… right, before I forget," my father interjected, cutting clean through my thoughts.
My lips parted, ready to speak, but his calm, authoritative voice silenced me.
"The Emperor has decreed that you are now eligible to attend the Imperial Academy."
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still be around me.
Shoot. That is what I'm gonna ask.
The Imperial Academy. A place only accessible to those who have reached the age of eighteen, especially heirs of noble, high-ranking families. It isn't just a school—it's a crucible. They don't simply teach you there; they forge you. Politics, diplomacy, military tactics, combat… all honed to perfection. It is where children of power are sharpened into weapons for the empire's future.
Right.. A great opportunity always comes to me. I smirk.
My father gave me an envelope where the acceptance from the emperor had been written with my full name.
This short, punchy scene brings in the consequence of Dravina's win: her forced disguise. I will extend it by focusing on the immediate practical thoughts of her new secret identity and the final, heavy instruction from her father that grounds the high-stakes risk of her freedom.
My excitement was impossible to hide—it lit up my entire face like fireworks in the night sky. This was it, the moment I'd been waiting for. I had won. My father had finally, reluctantly, conceded. After years of being caged in this mansion, I would finally step into a world beyond these suffocating walls.
But then… my eyes caught on a single line written in the elegant, cold ink of the parchment—a list of non-negotiable terms for my attendance at the Imperial Academy.
"You will not reveal your true identity inside the Imperial Academy. Instead, you are to assume another name."
My smile faltered. My face went from shining with uncontainable excitement to a flat, unimpressed meh in less than a heartbeat. The freedom I had fought so desperately for came with a price—a heavy, suffocating condition: a life built on a constant lie.
My father's sharp, hawk-like gaze immediately caught the shift in my expression. His lips pressed into a thin line as if daring me to object.
"It's for your safety," he said in a voice that brooked no argument, steady and commanding, a tone honed from years of issuing imperial decrees. "You will be introduced as Seina of House Delian—a minor noble from a distant, defunct branch family. You will be seen, but you will not be known."
I clenched my hands around the parchment. Seina of House Delian. Even the name felt foreign on my tongue, like a shackle disguised as silk.
Right… in this empire, names carried weight and meaning. By tradition, citizens addressed one another by their first names as a sign of respect. The second name, however, was sacred—used only by family, a mark of intimacy and belonging.
Unlike everyone else, my second name wasn't a mark of closeness. It was a crown. Future queens were never addressed by their first name, only their second. It was a tradition meant to set them apart, to carve their identity into history so no one could ever forget who they were.
No one outside my bloodline—and the Vesperianth royal family—knew my full name. To the rest of the empire, I was simply Dravina, a name that carried both reverence and fear. A name that came with expectations heavy enough to crush me.
And now, I was being asked to set it aside. To become Seina, a girl who had no legacy, no crown, no voice.
For freedom, I would have to disappear.
Dinner ended, and I retreated to my chambers. To my surprise, Kalix and Sylvia were already there, seated across from one another on the velvet chairs by the window.
I had told them countless times: "Treat this room like home, and treat me casually when we're alone." They might see me as their princess, their future queen, but to me? They were my family—siblings in all but blood.
I flopped onto my bed, rolling into the most un-queenlike position possible—right lateral recumbent, with my head propped up lazily on my arm. A royal pose? No. A bored-cat-chilling pose? Absolutely.
While Kalix and Sylvia sat like proper nobles, I sprawled across my blankets, staring at the canopy.
"I wonder…" I said, my voice drifting with feigned casualness. "What if the two of you also attended the Imperial Academy?"
Their heads turned at the same time, their eyes locking in an unspoken exchange.
I smirked. "There it is again. That look. The one where you both pretend you're not silently communicating with daggers."
Neither spoke. Just a twitch of Kalix's jaw. Just the faintest narrowing of Sylvia's eyes.
"Seriously," I teased, lifting my head with mock suspicion. "Do you hate each other? Or are you secretly dating? You can tell me, you know. I won't judge…"
Their silence was priceless. I could practically taste the tension radiating between them.
I grinned. "Yep. Definitely something there."
Both of them suddenly rose from their seats. In perfect unison, they bowed.
I burst out laughing. "Oh no, you're actually embarrassed."
"My lady, I still have much to attend to. If you'll excuse me—"
The words overlapped. They had spoken the exact same line at the exact same time.
For a heartbeat, the air froze. Their eyes widened as they realized it too. That brief flicker of surprise passed between them like a spark, and then—just as quickly—they both stiffened again.
I bit down on my smile, half-amused, half-intrigued. "Did you two rehearse that?"
They ignored me, bowing once more before fumbling toward the door. Of course, even in leaving, they couldn't escape their own awkward symmetry—Sylvia reached for the handle at the same moment Kalix did, their hands colliding before one quickly pulled back to let the other through.
I watched them go, stifling another laugh. There was something undeniably strange about the way those two moved around each other. Strange, and maybe a little too synchronized.
"Hayy… those two," I sighed, sinking back into my pillows. "I was only joking, but hmm… it really does feel like there's something going on."
I waved the thought away with a flick of my hand. "Never mind. I've always wished they'd get along better anyway."
A small smile tugged at my lips as I pictured their awkward little duet at the door. "They're cute together, though…"
I stood up from my bed and padded over to my study table, where the familiar clutter of books and my journal awaited me. The candlelight cast long, flickering shadows across the desk as I pulled the worn leather-bound diary closer.
With a slow breath, I uncapped the ink and pressed the quill to the page.
August 3rd,
Dear Diary,