The night of the ball arrived, enveloped in an air of grandeur. The castle, already a monument of power, seemed to glow gracefully from within. Golden light spilt from every arched window, painting the snowy courtyard in warm hues. Noble guests began to arrive in pairs, each dressed elegantly for the occasion.
Inside, the grand ballroom opened like a treasure chest, filled with sparkling jewels. The walls were draped in deep burgundy velvet, and chandeliers hung heavy with crystal droplets. The polished marble floors reflected the flickering light of hundreds of candles.
Musical instruments such as strings and harps played in perfect harmony, their melodies weaving through the air like silk. Servants moved with organised grace, carrying silver trays laden with wine and delicacies. The atmosphere was intoxicating, a blend of luxury, curiosity, and the faint, sharp edge of political manoeuvring.
Finally, Elena and Aiden emerged from the inner chambers, and the herald's voice rang out, announcing, "His Majesty, King Aiden of Ebonhart, and Her Majesty, Queen Elena." The hall shifted with curious stares, and every conversation came to a halt. Everyone turned their heads toward the direction of the arriving couple.
Elena's face paled with anxiety, a stark contrast to her ivory gown. The dress flowed around her like liquid moonlight, and its delicate lace sleeves grazed her wrists. Her blonde hair was styled perfectly in an elegant updo that complemented her delicate features. Her heart thumped wildly beneath the intricate embroidery of her dress. Beside her stood Aiden, exuding an air of authority. He wore a midnight-black coat threaded with silver, his gloved hand resting lightly on the small of her back as they descended the sweeping staircase.
Many inquisitive eyes, filled with various emotions, followed them. Some were appraising, some calculating, others simply curious. Elena felt the weight of those stares but kept her chin high. She told herself that she was not a prisoner here. Tonight, she was a queen, and she would act just like one.
Aiden leaned closer with a low voice that only she could hear. "Relax, little moon. They'll eat you alive if you look too tense," he teased dryly.
She shot him a sidelong glance and forced a smile.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and she couldn't tell whether it was in amusement or approval. "Exactly."
They reached the centre of the room, and the crowd parted in subtle respect. All the nobles in attendance stepped forward, bowing and curtsying, and introduced themselves by name and title. Elena smiled, nodded, and responded politely, repeatedly performing the same gestures as if she had rehearsed them. She received compliments here and there, though they didn't feel genuine. It was evident that not many people loved her. 'They must have been surprised that a frail princess like me suddenly became their queen overnight,' she thought.
One lady, her lips painted the colour of ripe cherries, leaned in and whispered, "I do hope you find Ebonhart's winters… tolerable. They can be quite brutal for those unaccustomed." Despite her welcoming smile, her eyes conveyed something different.
Elena replied with and replicated her smile, "I've weathered storms before." The woman seemed to harbour a personal dislike for her, and Elena couldn't blame her. After all, who wouldn't want a man like Aiden for themselves? She chuckled softly at the thought.
Aiden, meanwhile, exchanged brief words with a councilman whose voice carried an undercurrent of warning. "Trade routes with Aurelia will require… careful oversight," the man said.
"Then I'll oversee them," Aiden replied, maintaining his calm demeanour. The night passed slowly, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves as the ballroom grew busier.
After a while, Aiden engaged in conversation with the war minister, prompting Elena to excuse herself. She felt bored and wished the ball would end already. Seeking a moment away from the scrutiny, she decided to take a walk by herself. She wove through the crowd, pausing to admire the towering arrangements of winter roses, their crimson petals a striking contrast against the white marble.
Caught up in the beauty around her, she accidentally bumped into someone. The contact caused her to stumble, and she almost fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Elena said, trying to regain her balance. The stranger bowed in acknowledgement, head inclined as if studying the floor, and turned to leave. Just then, she noticed a shiny object on the floor. It was a delicate hairpin, its silver surface inlaid with a swirl of onyx and a large pearl, gleaming faintly under the chandelier's light.
She bent down to pick it up. "Excuse me. I think you...."
But when she turned, the stranger was already gone, swallowed by the crowd. It was as if the person had vanished, leaving her to wonder how they had slipped away so quickly in the spacious ballroom.
Elena tightened her grip on the hairpin. It felt strangely cold, almost too chilly for an object that had been pinned to someone's hair. She scanned the room for the green cloak the stranger had worn, but saw only a blur of gowns and suits. The hairpin didn't look like an ordinary accessory; it seemed more like an heirloom, and she felt certain the owner would come back for it because it appeared important.
She slipped it into the hidden pocket of her gown, resolving to hold onto it.
Lost in thought, she didn't realise Aiden had returned to her side.
"You look distracted," he said, causing her to jump in surprise.
"Just… overheated from the crowd," she replied smoothly.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing her words. Then he simply offered his arm. "The first dance is ours."
She took his hand, and they stepped into the centre of the floor as the orchestra swelled.