The banquet roared with life, the clash of goblets and the rise of laughter echoing beneath the jeweled chandeliers. At the high table, the two kings leaned close in conversation, their words rich with promises of unity. For once, there was no venom in their voices — only warmth, as though the years of rivalry had been forgotten with a single toast.

The young prince sat at his father’s side, dutiful and silent, the weight of expectation heavy upon his shoulders. He was the center of a hundred watchful eyes, though none so piercing as the pair that had just entered the hall.

Princess Selene moved with unhurried grace, her gown trailing like a river of moonlight, her crown blazing in the candle’s glow. She did not smile for the courtiers who bowed, nor acknowledge the nobles who whispered in admiration. Her gaze was fixed solely upon the man who would now be her husband.

When she reached him, Selene paused. For a heartbeat, she let the silence between them swell, as though she were studying a relic in a gallery. Then, with a slow curve of her lips, she leaned nearer, her voice low, precise — for him alone.

"Tell me, Prince... are you truly a man I can rule beside? Or just another boy I’ll have to rule over?"