Next morning;
The morning sun filtered softly through the grand windows of the royal dining hall. The princess sat at the breakfast table, her gaze distant, fingers lightly tracing the edge of her goblet. The vivid images from last night's dream — the triangle with the raven inside — swirled in her mind like whispers she couldn't quite grasp.
Her father's voice broke through her haze.
"My dear, it's time we discuss your marriage dress. The royal seamstress has already begun work on the finest silk from the eastern lands. You must be ready when the arrangements are finalized."
The princess blinked, startled back to the moment. "Marriage dress?" she echoed softly, the words feeling heavy and unreal.
Her half-brother leaned back with a cruel smirk. "Used for peace, that's what you are. A pretty ornament to stop wars and seal deals. Bet you never saw this coming, did you?"
Her father's eyes flashed with anger. "Enough, joren! Show some respect to your sister. She is not a bargaining chip for your amusement."
Idris shrugged, unbothered. "Just stating facts, Father."
serenya swallowed hard, the room thick with tension.
The serenya fingers clenched tightly around her goblet, knuckles whitening. She opened her mouth to respond, but her father raised a hand, his voice firm and commanding.
"You both stay silent," he said sharply, his eyes locking onto Idris and then the princess. "This is not the time for bickering."
The room fell quiet, the tension thick in the air. The princess took a slow breath, steadying herself before finally speaking, her voice calm but resolute.
"I am not just a tool, nor a prize to be traded. There is more to me than what suits your schemes."
Idris sneered but said nothing, while their father watched silently, his expression unreadable.
The princess's fingers clenched tightly around her goblet, knuckles whitening. She opened her mouth to respond, but her father raised a hand, his voice firm and commanding.
"You both stay silent," he said sharply, his eyes locking onto Idris and then the princess. "This is not the time for bickering."
The room fell quiet, the tension thick in the air. The princess took a slow breath, steadying herself before finally speaking, her voice calm but resolute.
"I am not just a tool, nor a prize to be traded. There is more to me than what suits your schemes."
Idris sneered but said nothing, while their father watched silently, his expression unreadable.
Here's the continuation with the princess ending breakfast and leaving the table:
The princess took a final, steadying breath and .
"I am done with breakfast," she said, her voice clear and unwavering. Without waiting for a response, she rose from her seat and walked toward the grand doors, her footsteps echoing softly in the hall.
Her father and Idris exchanged glances but said nothing as she disappeared from the room, leaving behind the heavy silence and the morning's bitter words.
Serenya p.o.v
The cobbled streets of the capital were alive with color and noise. Merchants shouted over one another, each boasting that their fabrics were finer, their gems brighter, their spices rarer than any rival's. The princess walked among them, flanked by her ladies-in-waiting and two palace guards. They paused often, examining rolls of shimmering silk, lace veils, and gold-thread embroidery.
Yet her attention kept drifting. The chatter of the market blurred into background noise as she noticed a narrow alley between a spice merchant and a jeweler. At the end of it stood a small, crooked shop with a faded sign that read "Tales of Old Blood."
Drawn by a strange pull, she slipped away while the others haggled over ivory buttons. The bell above the shop door gave a low chime as she entered.
The air was thick with the smell of old parchment and candle wax. Shelves groaned under the weight of dusty tomes, their spines cracked and faded. But one book stood out — bound in deep black leather, a silver-embossed triangle with a raven inside stamped on the cover.
Her fingers brushed over it, and the shopkeeper, a hunched old man with pale eyes, appeared from the shadows.
"You have a dangerous taste in reading, Your Highness," he rasped.
She glanced up sharply. "You know me?"
"Everyone knows the face of a princess," he said, voice low. "But few know the stories the crown would rather forget."
She tilted the book toward herself. "What is this about?"
The old man's gaze grew distant. "A war… long before your time. Werewolves against vampires. The witches split between them — some loyal to fur, others to fang. Blood filled the rivers, and the sky itself seemed to darken."
Alright — here's that part written with atmosphere and a bit of mystery:
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Her fingers brushed over the black leather cover, tracing the silver-embossed triangle and the bird within it.
"This mark… what does it mean?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
Before the old man could answer, a woman emerged from the back of the shop — tall, cloaked in deep green, with silver hair braided down her shoulder. She regarded the princess for a long moment, then stepped forward and placed the book gently in her hands.
"A gift," the woman said softly. "For a new beginning."
Serenya frowned. "I… didn't agree to buy it."
"You don't need to," the woman replied with a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Some books choose their reader. This one chose you."
Before Serenya could ask more, the woman turned and disappeared into the dim interior of the shop. The old man said nothing, merely watching with an unreadable expression.
Still holding the book, Serenya stepped outside into the bustle of the market. She lingered on the threshold, staring down at the strange silver symbol, her thoughts tangled and restless.
A sudden flutter of wings made her look up. On the roof opposite, a raven perched, its feathers glossy black — and its eyes glowing a deep, unnatural red.
It tilted its head at her, as if studying her, before spreading its wings and vanishing into the sky.
Serenya's grip on the book tightened. For the first time that day, she felt truly… unsettled.
Still holding the book close to her chest, Serenya stepped outside into the bright, noisy market. She hadn't gone more than a few steps when her personal maid, Lira, came rushing toward her, skirts swishing as she dodged a spice cart.
"There you are princess!" her personal maid spoke slightly out of breath. "I've been looking all over. Where did you wander off to?"
Serenya glanced over her shoulder at the crooked little shop, its shadow now swallowed by the busy street. "Just… browsing."
She shook her head, not pressing further. "Well, browsing will have to wait. We still have to visit the royal seamstress. There's a great deal to prepare for, and your father will have my head if you're late."
Serenya tightened her grip on the book, the silver-embossed raven cool under her fingers. "Yes… let's go," she murmured.
As they walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling that the woman's parting words — A new beginning — meant something far more than she was ready to understand.