The heavy doors of Draven Palace closed behind Princess Elara, muffling the murmurs of the courtiers and the distant sounds of the northern guards. The cold air of the main hall gave way to a long, dimly lit corridor, its walls carved from obsidian and etched with swirling patterns that seemed to writhe under the flickering torchlight. Every step echoed, and with it, the weight of her defiance, and the unknown loomed larger.
Lyra fell into step beside her, silent but vigilant. "Stay close," she whispered, her eyes scanning the shadows. "Every glance matters here."
Elara nodded, adjusting the folds of her sapphire-and-silver cloak. Though her heart pounded, she drew comfort from Lyra's presence.What will she have done if Lyra refused to come with her? She thought.
Every step further into the northern kingdom heightened her awareness: the vastness of the palace, the polished floors that seemed to swallow sound, and the faint chill that penetrated even the warm layers she wore.
From a side doorway, a young northern attendant appeared, bowing low. "Princess Elara, I am Kaelen. I shall escort you to your chambers." His voice was quiet, courteous, and precise, carrying the careful politeness expected in a court where every word could be weighed and tested.
Elara inclined her head slightly. "Lead the way."
The attendant led them through corridors that twisted and turned, sometimes narrowing into shadows that made her feel enclosed, sometimes opening into vast halls decorated with tapestries depicting battles, dragons, and northern kings who had ruled centuries past. Each hall, each carving, each detail whispered of power, history, and the weight of tradition.
Lyra whispered softly, "This palace… it's so different from anything I've seen. The halls… they feel alive."
Elara's eyes scanned the walls, the flickering torches, the marble staircases that rose in impossible spirals. She could feel the eyes of unseen courtiers watching, waiting, judging her every move. "Yes," she murmured. "It is beautiful… but cold, and every corner feels… sharp."
The journey to her quarters seemed to stretch endlessly. Each door they passed was heavy, carved with intricate runes and sigils that hinted at centuries of northern magic and protection. At times, she felt the distant echo of Kael's presence—he was not walking beside them, yet she could sense him somewhere in the palace, watching, assessing, as if the very air shifted in his presence.
Kaelen paused at the entrance to a secluded wing, his hand gesturing to an ornate door. "Princess, these shall be your chambers. They are prepared for your comfort, though you may find them… different from Dawnvale."
Elara stepped inside. The chamber was large, with high ceilings supported by black beams carved with the same swirling motifs she had seen throughout the palace. A large window framed the northern mountains, their peaks frosted even in late spring, and the light of the setting sun cast golden streaks over polished obsidian floors.
The room was sparsely decorated, but every item seemed purposeful—furniture carved from dark wood, tapestries depicting northern landscapes, and a hearth that glowed faintly with embers, offering warmth against the northern chill.
Lyra let out a small sigh. "It's beautiful… in its own way."
Elara moved toward the window, tracing her fingers along the smooth frame. "Yes," she murmured. "It is beautiful… but it feels like a cage. Every wall, every corner… it reminds me that I am here not by choice, but by duty."
Kaelen's voice drew her attention. "The princess may rest, but you will be expected in the council tomorrow morning for your wedding ceremony with the king. Prince Kael wishes to observe the arrangements personally. All courtiers and advisors shall attend."
Elara's lips pressed into a thin line. "Very well." She turned back to the view, the mountains stretching beyond the palace walls, their shadows deepening as the sun dipped lower. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what life might have been like if she had stayed in Dawnvale, surrounded by sunlight, laughter, and familiar faces. That life was gone now, replaced by cold halls, court intrigue, and a king she had yet to meet truly.
And she wondered how he was doing. He had been sent to the neighbouring country by her father, the king, so she was sure he didn't know she was already married.
And it's not like she's picky or something, she just didn't want to even think about being comfortable here. She was here as a sacrifice so of course how could she ever have her comfort.
And yet, even as her thoughts wandered, she could not deny the image that had taken root in her mind—Kael, standing in the grand hall, his silver eyes watching her every movement. He had been tall, commanding, and undeniably beautiful in his own way. There had been a spark of something—curiosity, recognition, perhaps something more profound—something she could feel even from this distance.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her cloak. "I must be careful," she whispered. "I will not allow myself to be drawn in… not yet."
In another wing of the palace, Kael observed from the shadows. His silver eyes narrowed slightly, not with anger but with a strange fascination. The princess of Dawnvale had taken the halls with grace, yet she had not bowed, not faltered, and yet… There was something in her—something he could not name—that tugged at the edges of his mind.
Her hair, the color of autumn sunlight; her eyes, bright and intelligent; her posture, unyielding yet graceful—every detail imprinted on him just like the one's he used to see in his childhood dreams. And beneath that, there was a sense of recognition, a connection that neither he nor she could yet understand. Something ancient, almost like a whisper of a memory long buried.
Kael's jaw tightened. "What is it about her?" he murmured to Ronan, who had appeared silently beside him. "I have never… felt this. She is not of my blood, yet there is… familiarity. And beauty. Unyielding, fierce, and… radiant."
Ronan's brow arched. "You mean… attraction?"
Kael shook his head, though his eyes did not leave the corridor leading to her chambers. "Not merely attraction. Something else… deeper. A connection I cannot place. And yet… it draws me."
As night fell over Draven, the palace settled into shadows. Courtiers whispered, candles flickered, and the wind moaned against the tall obsidian walls. Elara sat by her window, gazing at the mountains, feeling the chill of the northern air creep through the room, and yet feeling… alive in a way she had not expected.
She was a stranger in a foreign kingdom, surrounded by intrigue, unknown plots, and the weight of duty—but somewhere, in the shadows of Draven Palace, she sensed that fate had more in store. She felt lonely even though Lyra was here with her. She missed her parents and her country, after all she's human too and no matter the sense of duty, she had emotions too.
And as Kael watched from afar, his thoughts in turmoil over her presence, both of them were beginning to understand that this union—forced, political, and unexpected—would shape not only their kingdoms, but their hearts, in ways neither could yet imagine.