The throne room of the Jade Palace stood resplendent in its ceremonial glory. The high dome bore the twin seats of the Emperor and Empress of Astandra, robed in the majesty of their station. A step behind, to their right, rested the seat of the Crown Prince, Flavian Attila Hadrian, heir to the empire's power.
At the herald's announcement, the Princess of Wraisan entered, her silken gown whispering against the marble floor. With a practised air of innocence, she bowed deeply before the throne.
"Greetings to the noble sovereigns of the Astandra Empire," she declared in a sweetened tone. "In gratitude for permitting my stay within your sacred halls, my father, His Majesty the Emperor of Wraisan, has dispatched tokens of his esteem."
At her signal, two Knights of Wraisan advanced, each bearing gifts of weight and grandeur. First, an ancient relic, its craftsmanship speaking of forgotten dynasties. Second, jewels, their brilliance scattering the light like captured stars. One by one, the princess named them, her words painting their value. The Emperor and Empress, though cautious, allowed satisfaction to flicker across their features.
Then, as the offerings concluded, Veraminta's golden eyes gleamed with a light more dangerous than any jewel. She turned her gaze not towards the Emperor, nor towards the Empress, but towards the Crown Prince.
"And lastly," she said with a smile that silenced the chamber, "I present myself to you, Your Highness, Crown Prince Flavian Attila Hadrian."
The words fell like a thunderclap. Even her own knights stiffened, their faces betraying astonishment.
The Emperor's voice broke first, incredulous: "What madness is this? What, in heaven's name, is the Wraisan Emperor thinking?"
Veraminta dipped her head, her expression untroubled. "Your Majesty, forgive me, this notion was mine alone. My father bears no share in it."
The Empress leaned forward, her tone sharpened by maternal steel. "And why, Princess of Wraisan, did you deem it fitting to utter such words here? Do you comprehend the weight they carry? To bind two empires with so light a tongue is no jest, it is peril."
The princess only smiled, her words as bold as her beauty. "Yesterday, upon my arrival, I beheld the Crown Prince. Never, in all my journeys, had I found a man whose bearing could rival my own grace. Yet when I saw him, I was struck as though by fate itself. I confess I could not sleep, for my thoughts were filled with how I might claim his hand. Thus, seeing my chance, I have spoken about it plainly before you today."
The Empress exhaled, her disbelief turning to cold dismay. "Unbelievable… this child does not see how her whim could sunder peace between nations. Blindly, she plays at love as if it were but a dalliance, while her words strike at the heart of empires."
Flavian rose then, his voice as cold as tempered steel. "Princess, your candour is misplaced. I have no wish to accept what you so recklessly offer. My only joy is to welcome you to Astandra as a guest, nothing more. When your journey of leisure is ended, you shall return to your empire, and that will be the end of it."
But Veraminta's smile did not falter. Instead, her eyes burned with dangerous certainty. "Harsh though you are, my prince, you may not yet know me. Once my eyes fix upon something, I will not rest until it is mine. That is my nature. Still, today I grant you respite. You may have time to consider what your heart resists."
"Presumptuous!" the Emperor thundered. "This matter is not yours alone to decide, Princess. I will write to your father at once. Between sovereigns, such a bond can only be judged and concluded."
Her smile deepened, almost mocking. "You may write, Your Majesty, but know this, my father has never denied me what I desire."
With that, she swept away from the hall, leaving in her wake a silence heavy with confusion, outrage, and dread.
Rumours wound themselves through the palace like an ivy, fast, unbidden, and everywhere. At the evening repast, the imperial family sat in uneasy silence beneath the gilt chandeliers. Before them lay the empress's chosen fare: the light, deliberate dishes she had favoured of late. The emperor forced himself to eat with the weary patience of a man bent upon duty; the crown prince stabbed at his vegetables with a restlessness that made the cutlery ring too loudly.
The empress watched her son for a moment, then set down her fork and, abandoning her own pleasure in the meal, spoke with measured gentleness. "What have you done regarding the princess's impertinence?"
The emperor answered as if to soothe a worried child. "I have sent a letter to the Emperor of Wraisan. Now we must wait for his reply."
Flavian's patience frayed. "It will be worse than waiting, Father. My informants confirm what the duchess wrote: the princess's demands are indulged without question. Her father grants her whims as though they were decrees."
The emperor's hand stilled over his plate. "And what would you have us do now?"
Flavian's jaw tightened like a drawn sword. "Let her test the ground if she must. But mark me: should she grow intolerable, I will see her expelled from our realms without hesitation, even if it leads to war. I shall not permit our court to be toyed with."
A thin smile creased the emperor's face, equal parts pride and reproach. "You are truly your father's son in temper," he observed.
The empress's eyes sparkled. "I told you so."
"I am always right," she declared, with the assuredness of long practice.
"Yes, my wife, you are indeed," the emperor conceded, allowing himself a moment's indulgence.
Flavian reddened at the softness between them. "Enough," he muttered.
"Feeling lonely, my dear son. I believe Lady Marlene shall now return soon."
Flavian rose abruptly. "I have had enough for tonight. I will take my leave. Good night, Father. Good night, Mother."