Rubin stood at the grand entrance of the royal palace of Arenthis, his heart a mixture of defiance and unease. The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, the golden spires of the palace stretching toward the sky, gleaming under the afternoon sun. Despite the beauty of the place, Rubin felt trapped in a gilded cage, marching toward a fate he had not chosen.

He had arrived with a small entourage, but he felt utterly alone. His father had not come, leaving the formalities to his advisors and guards. It was a clear message: this was Rubin’s duty to fulfill, and there was no room for argument.

A herald stepped forward, his voice echoing across the vast marble hall. “Presenting Prince Rubin of Drakos, heir to the throne.”

Rubin lifted his chin as he entered the main chamber, his dragon-like features catching the light—his horns gleamed like polished obsidian, his emerald eyes sharp and unreadable. The throne room was grand yet restrained, designed with intricate silver and sapphire accents, a stark contrast to the fiery aesthetics of Drakos.

At the far end of the hall, a woman stood beside the Queen and King of Arenthis. Princess Elara.

She was striking, but not in the way he had expected. She was no delicate flower meant for a royal display. There was an undeniable strength in her posture, her piercing ice-blue eyes assessing him with measured caution. She was dressed in a flowing gown of deep blue, the color of the Arenthian seas, embroidered with silver accents resembling swirling winds. Her long, platinum-blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder, but it did nothing to soften her sharp gaze.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The Queen, a regal woman with soft features but a calculating gaze, was the first to break the silence. “Prince Rubin, welcome to Arenthis. It is an honor to host you.”

Rubin inclined his head politely. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty.”

The King of Arenthis gave a short nod, but his expression remained unreadable. His gaze lingered on Rubin’s wings, still folded neatly behind him. “Your reputation precedes you, young prince. I trust you understand the importance of this alliance.”

Rubin forced a polite smile. “I do, Your Majesty.”

Elara’s eyes flickered at that, but she remained silent.

The Queen gestured toward her daughter. “Perhaps you and Elara would like to speak in private before the formal announcements?”

Rubin hesitated, then nodded. “That would be appreciated.”

Elara gave a single nod before stepping forward. “Come with me.”

She led him out of the grand hall, her stride confident but unhurried. Rubin followed, his thoughts tangled. He had imagined this moment countless times, had expected someone cold and calculating, but there was something more to Elara—something unreadable.

They walked in silence until they reached a secluded garden, where a small stone bench rested beneath a canopy of flowering trees. The scent of lilacs and fresh rain filled the air. She turned to face him, arms crossed.

“Let’s not waste time with pleasantries,” Elara said, her voice cool but not unkind. “I assume you’re as thrilled about this arrangement as I am?”

Rubin huffed a dry laugh. “Thrilled is one way to put it.”

Elara arched an elegant brow. “Then let’s be honest with each other. We are pawns in a game of politics. This marriage isn’t about us—it’s about securing power, maintaining peace, and ensuring our kingdoms do not turn against each other.”

Rubin met her gaze evenly. “I don’t disagree. But that doesn’t mean we have to accept it without question.”

Her lips curved slightly, a ghost of amusement. “You surprise me, Prince Rubin. I expected you to be like your father.”

His jaw tightened at the mention of his father. “I am not my father.”

Elara studied him, as if searching for deception. “Good.”

For a brief moment, they simply stared at each other, a quiet understanding forming between them. He had expected animosity, but instead, he found a kindred spirit—someone who understood the weight of duty as well as he did.

Elara sighed, glancing away. “We may not have a choice in this marriage, but that doesn’t mean we have to be enemies. If we must go through with it, then perhaps we can make the best of it.”

Rubin exhaled slowly. “You speak as if you have already accepted this fate.”

She turned back to him, her gaze sharp. “Because fighting it will accomplish nothing. The only way to have power in this is to play the game wisely.”

Rubin studied her, seeing not just a princess, but a strategist. She was not cold—she was calculating. And perhaps, in another life, he might have admired her for it.

After a moment, he nodded. “Then let’s play wisely.”

A small, knowing smile touched her lips. “Good. Let’s start by making it clear to everyone that we are united—even if we aren’t.”

She extended her hand. He hesitated only for a moment before taking it. Her grip was firm, unwavering.

As they stood there, hand in hand, Rubin realized that this meeting had not been the beginning of a war between them. No, this was the start of something else entirely.

A fragile alliance, built not on love—but on survival.

Later that evening, the grand banquet hall was filled with nobles, their voices blending into a murmur of hushed excitement. Rubin sat at Elara’s side, the weight of countless eyes upon him. The feast was lavish, filled with exotic dishes from both kingdoms, a symbol of the alliance being forged.

Elara leaned in slightly, her voice just above a whisper. “Tomorrow, we are to make our first public appearance together in the city square.”

Rubin took a sip of his wine. “And what do you expect from me?”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Smile, wave, and pretend you belong.”

He chuckled softly, though the humor never reached his eyes. “And if I don’t?”

Her gaze darkened slightly. “Then you’ll have far more than just my father to worry about.”

Rubin looked at her, truly looked at her, and realized something.

Elara was not just a princess. She was a force to be reckoned with.

And for the first time, he wondered if he was ready for what lay ahead.