Alexia sat in the high seats on the low left, barely acknowledging the festivities or the endless stream of congratulations. Her focus remained on the far-right seat—still empty.
Queen Astrid's nails tapped an unhurried rhythm against the armrest, her expression unreadable. Across from her, King Luther maintained a strained smile, but Alexia knew they were all thinking the same thing.
Where was Lucius?
Luther exhaled slowly. His heir was absent.
Astrid's lips curved—cold, knowing. Disobedient.
Alexia bit her lip. Rip, Lucius. Where are you?
Then Luther stood, his movement commanding instant silence. The grand hall, once buzzing with laughter and chatter, stilled.
"Thank you all for gathering to celebrate my daughter's birthday," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly.
A pause.
"But more importantly—"
Alexia's stomach twisted.
"—thank you for bearing witness to the union between Aethera and Kalindi."
Alexia rolled her eyes. As if her father would ever genuinely celebrate her birthday. It wasn't even her coming-of-age ceremony yet.
Queen Astrid didn't bother hiding her disinterest. She didn't spare Luther a glance, nor did she make any effort to mask the sheer boredom in her expression.
Luther, however, continued as if everything was perfectly in place.
"Tomorrow, Princess Lyra of Kalindi and Lord Casen of Aethera will be formally engaged." His voice rang through the hall. "But today, we shall celebrate them."
At his words, a pair stepped forward.
The man—tall, with long chestnut hair framing his sharp features—moved with quiet authority. His cold blue eyes scanned the hall with barely veiled disinterest.
The woman, however…
Her lime-green hair cascaded down her shoulders, a stark contrast to the soft violet of her downcast eyes. Every movement was graceful, practiced, yet there was something unmistakably reluctant in her posture.
Neither of them looked particularly thrilled.
Yet, they wove through the sea of nobles with poised elegance, finally coming to stand before the King.
The crowd erupted into polite applause.
Casen barely reacted, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the king, one brow lifting ever so slightly. He didn't even glance at the woman beside him.
Lyra, on the other hand, forced a bright smile, her hands steady as she waved at the nobles and well-wishers. But her shoulders were tense, her violet eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"I bless you both to have a happy marriage."
The words settled over them like a verdict.
"Thank you, my king," they replied in unison, their voices eerily devoid of warmth.
"It is my duty," Casen added, each syllable clipped and impassive.
"My pleasure," Lyra murmured, her head bowed.
The king nodded. "You are dismissed."
Casen turned without hesitation, striding away without so much as a glance backward.
Lyra hesitated, then hurried after him, the layers of her dress swishing as she struggled to keep up.
The applause continued, but to them, it was just noise.
Alexia rose to her feet, her attention nowhere near Lyra's so-called love story.
No.
Her eyes locked onto something far more infuriating.
A head of peach-colored hair in the crowd. Lucius.
And in his arms—a girl.
A beautiful girl.
Her jaw tightened.
He abandoned me.
He didn't even wish me a happy birthday—because he found a girlfriend?!"
[ Host, would you like to discuss your emotions? ]
"Shut up!"
Her aura flared, an unmistakable spike of anger rippling through the room. The effect was immediate—people scrambled to clear a path.
Meanwhile, Lucius barely spared a glance at the girl in his arms. His brows furrowed.
"…Why don't I feel anything?"
He had subtly tested almost everything—brushing her hair aside, pressing closer, whispering soft words. But his body remained unmoved.
Nothing.
Lucius exhaled sharply.
"Maybe I'm cured?" he muttered, resting his head against her neck.
The girl stiffened before flushing bright red.
"P-Prince Lucius, I…" She hesitated, voice trembling with nervous delight. "Shouldn't we… be more private about this?"
Her fingers curled in his sleeve, anticipation clear.
Lucius blinked.
…Nope.
Still nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
Damn it.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, snapping them both to attention.
Lucius barely had time to register the source before the girl in his arms shrank against him, seeking protection.
But he wasn't looking at her anymore.
His eyes locked onto the approaching storm—Alexia.
Flushed face.
Intense glare.
Dazzling dress.
And worst of all—
His gift.
She was wearing his gift.
Heat surged through his veins, his pulse hammering in his ears.
"…For god's sake," he groaned under his breath.
Then she moved—each step a declaration of war—and his body betrayed him, tracking her every motion like a doomed man savoring his last moments.
He swallowed hard.
"…I'm dead."
Panting lightly, Lucius cast a gentle look at the woman in his arms.
"My lady, I apologize for my rudeness, but I must cut our meeting short. I—"
His words died the moment he caught sight of her.
Alexia.
She was closing in. Fast.
His body reacted before his mind could process it.
"Farewell."
And with that, Lucius vanished into the crowd—graceful, swift, and entirely too practiced at fleeing for his life.
"LUCIUS. NAVEN. DAWN."
Alexia's voice tore through the air like a war drum, etiquette long forgotten as she launched into pursuit.
But he was too fast.
For a second, she slowed, smirking to herself.
Then—
"Ah!"
The hem of her gown betrayed her, and she went tumbling. Eyes squeezed shut, she braced for impact—
But instead—
Strong, burning arms.
"Got you."
She smirked, triumphant.
Then—
Wait. Burning?
Her eyes snapped open.
But that sensation was gone now, leaving Lucius with only one option—pretend everything was fine.
He smiled warmly. Too warmly.
"Sister, what a coincidence."
Alexia arched a brow.
"Happy… birth… day?" Lucius attempted, each word slower than the last, as if he wasn't sure how language worked anymore.
He resisted two very bad instincts: tossing her away or melting her into his body. Neither was a good choice. So, outwardly, he remained composed.
Internally?
Little Lucius was going absolutely feral.
Unfortunately, his attempt at normalcy only seemed to enrage her further.
The nobles shifted their attention toward the king and queen, sensing the brewing storm.
"Where have you been?"
Lucius placed a hand on his chest, taking a subtle step back. "Sister, I'm always with you."
And then, he tried to leave.
Tried.
Because Alexia's grip on his wrist tightened like iron.
"Where do you think you're going?" she huffed.
Before he could process what was happening, she yanked him forward.
"Come introduce me to your girlfriend."
Lucius barely had time to blink before he was standing in front of the now ashen-faced girl.
"…What?"
His brain short-circuited.
"Your Highness, I'm Belinda. Remember?"
Belinda smiled, her black hair spilling forward as she bowed.
Her hazel eyes flickered to Alexia. "Your Highness, welcome as well."
Alexia's gaze swept her from head to toe.
"So this is the girl my brother likes?"
Belinda blushed, shaking her head. "Prince Lucius and I were just testing something. I help him, and he gives me a job in the palace."
That's when Alexia noticed her ordinary outfit, a stark contrast to the fashionable nobles around them.
Belinda smiled sweetly. "Happy birthday, Princess."
Alexia blinked, then looked at Lucius. Then at Belinda. Then back at Lucius.
"Linda, leave my brother and come with me."
Belinda hesitated. "L-Linda? With you? Your Highness—!"
At the end, she almost sounded excited, but her gaze darted to Lucius.
Alexia smirked. "Don't worry. He won't dare revoke your job. Right, brother?"
Lucius, still in a daze, nodded.
Belinda paused for a breath, then sprung to Alexia's side. "Okay, Your Highness!"
"Great!"
And just like that, Alexia stole Belinda from Lucius.
Lucius stood there, blinking. "...What just happened?"
Inside his head—
SOMEONE. STOLE. HER.
"Oh, shut up." Lucius rolled his eyes, ignoring the feral wails of Little Lucius and followed after them.
—
"So? You met him at the entrance?" Alexia asked as they strolled toward the food table.
"Oh, yes!" Belinda beamed, selecting a frosted cake. "The prince is charming, kind, and handsome."
Alexia raised a brow. "Say it."
Belinda tilted her head. "Say what, Your Highness?"
Alexia took a deliberate bite of her cake. "Say it."
Belinda hesitated. Then, clearing her throat—
"…Maybe he's just a bit… quirky?"
"And?"
"Weird?"
"And?"
Belinda shrank into her cake. "…Controlling?"
Her voice was barely louder than a mosquito's buzz.
Alexia smirked. "Thought so."
Lucius, watching from a few steps away, let out a slow exhale.
Little Lucius: I am going to destroy everything she loves.
Lucius: …We're eating cake and moving on.
"Lucius."
Lucius froze, instincts snapping to attention. Then, with practiced ease, he masked the hesitation, schooling his features into a warm smile.
He extended a hand. "Mother."
Crimson eyes, cold and unreadable, traced his face, searching for the slightest crack.
Astrid's voice was like ice. "You're being disobedient again."
She circled him, slow and deliberate, a hawk sizing up prey. Lucius stood still, rigid beneath the weight of her scrutiny.
"You were late."
"Mother—"
"You slipped up."
"I apologize—"
"Your weakness is showing."
The words were a whisper, yet they cut deeper than a blade. Her expression remained impassive, but her tone was sharp, precise—like a scalpel dissecting him.
"You know what happens to exposed weaknesses, don't you?"
She idly traced the tip of her nails, the long train of her grey and blue gown sweeping behind her.
Lucius kept his posture steady. "Mother."
She stilled. "I let her go to you because I thought you'd surprise me."
A pause. The air thinned.
Then, she tilted her head, eyes glinting with quiet disappointment.
"You claim to be unreadable… but you're always so predictably dull."
"Mother, you let her come to me?"
Astrid shook her head. "Should I repeat myself?"
Lucius' smile faltered. "Why? You hate her."
Astrid let out a cold, quiet laugh. "There is no hate, Lucius. Only chess pieces, choices… and moral ambiguity."
A beat of silence.
Lucius held her gaze. "And where do I fall on that scale, Mother?"
She crossed her arms, her expression unmoving. "You are my son."
His eyes darkened. His voice was soft. "That I am, Mother."
Astrid turned her gaze to the dance floor, her voice barely above a whisper. "Never let your weakness show for others to exploit."
She tilted her head slightly. "You keep forgetting such a simple lesson."
Lucius' expression remained unreadable. Then, suddenly—he chuckled.
Stepping forward, he extended a hand.
"May I have this dance, Mother?"
Astrid didn't answer. She simply placed her hand in his.
***
At the food table, Belinda and Alexia watched as Lucius and Astrid moved gracefully across the ballroom.
The other nobles had cleared the floor for them.
Out of intimidation. And maybe just a little shame.
Belinda took a slow sip of wine, eyes fixed on the duo. "The Queen is so beautiful. If you took her outside, no one would believe she had a son this old."
Alexia arched a brow. "… are you saying she should look older?"
Belinda nearly choked. "N-No, I mean—it's just—people her age usually… you know, look their age."
Her gaze stayed locked on the two dominating the dance floor, as if willing herself not to dig the hole deeper.
Meanwhile, Alexia observed Lucius' warm smile, the effortless glide of their steps.
No one truly led the dance. The control shifted, subtle and fluid, just beneath the surface.
She had lived with them long enough to recognize the game at play.
[Host, 'some things' is an overstatement.]
"Hermes, for once, can you stop being a damn parasite?"
[Host, you have precisely two and a half hours until midnight.]
Alexia huffed, refusing to dignify him with a response.
On the ballroom floor, the dance came to an end. Lucius bowed, Astrid gave him a curt nod, and then—without a word—they strode in opposite directions.
It was just that Lucius' direction always led to Alexia.