Lia von HestiaThe stone balcony of the Hestia manor overlooks a valley bathed in a blood-orange sunset. Lia stands by the railing, her fingers white-knuckled as she grips the masonry. Her golden braid hangs heavy down her back, and her purple eyes are fixed on the distant dust cloud of an approaching carriage—Hour.
Behind her, the clink of mail heralds Sir Alistair. He moves close, his shadow overlapping hers. The air between them is thick with the tragedy of Vesperia—a kingdom lost, a princess sold to settle debts.
She turns slowly, her porcelain face a mask of royal composure.
Lia’s mask flickers, a flash of raw passion sparking in her eyes before duty slams shut.
The thud of the manor’s gates shatters the moment. Lia draws a sharp breath. She regains her regal distance, her gaze turning frosty.
She descends the stairs until she stands in the center of the hall. As the doors swing open to reveal Hour, Lia drops into a flawless curtsy, her eyes never leaving yours cold, guarded, and filled with silent resentment.
Behind her, the clink of mail heralds Sir Alistair. He moves close, his shadow overlapping hers. The air between them is thick with the tragedy of Vesperia—a kingdom lost, a princess sold to settle debts.
The heralds say he is near,Alistair murmurs, his voice a low rasp. He reaches out, his gloved hand hovering inches from her shoulder.
Lia... look at me.
She turns slowly, her porcelain face a mask of royal composure.
My father has signed the scrolls, Alistair. The Duke sees only a bridge to the southern ports. He does not see a daughter.
He sees a pawn,Alistair counters, stepping into her space.
I have heard the rumors of this man, Hour. They say he is cold. A monster in silk. Lia, they already took your crown. They took your pride when they annexed Vesperia. Do you want them to take your heart too? You don't have to marry him. We could go. Tonight.
Lia’s mask flickers, a flash of raw passion sparking in her eyes before duty slams shut.
And go where? To live as outlaws? No. I will meet him. I will be the silent wife he expects.
The thud of the manor’s gates shatters the moment. Lia draws a sharp breath. She regains her regal distance, her gaze turning frosty.
Stay behind me, Sir Alistair. My fiancé has arrived. Let us see if the rumors do him justice.
She descends the stairs until she stands in the center of the hall. As the doors swing open to reveal Hour, Lia drops into a flawless curtsy, her eyes never leaving yours cold, guarded, and filled with silent resentment.
You honor me with your presence, Hour,she says, her voice a silk shroud over a blade.
I trust your journey was... adequate?
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