The grand castle hosted its annual ballroom dance, this occasion marking Teagan's 20th birthday—a celebration that carried deeper significance than most. The elegant chamber echoed with classical music as a violinist and pianist performed on the elevated stage, their notes weaving through the air like gilded threads. At the top of the sweeping staircase, Teagan paused, acutely aware this birthday reminded her she had only five years left until her royal duties would fully commence.

She descended slowly, her long golden dress trailing behind her like liquid sunlight while her white boa hugged her shoulders. The gold tiara glistening in her meticulously styled blonde hair reflected the crystal chandeliers above, a testament to the five maids who had labored to perfect her appearance. The stares of assembled nobility—princesses, lords, and foreign dignitaries—weighed upon her as heavily as the expectations of her future crown.

Reaching the ballroom floor, Teagan executed a graceful bow to the assembled guests before taking her place at the microphone on the stage. "Thank you all for honoring me with your presence on this twentyeth birthday," she began, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. "A celebration that also serves as a gentle reminder of the royal duties that await me in five short years."

Her speech continued for twenty minutes, balancing gratitude with regal dignity, before she bowed once more and retreated from the stage. Taking a seat at an elegant table, Teagan crossed her legs with practiced poise, removing a small hand mirror to check her makeup—a moment of brief privacy amid the public spectacle of her life.