Amalia awoke to a stream of female servants bursting into her room. She sat up groggily, clutching her blanket to her chest, eyes still only partially open. 

The curtains were ripped open blinding Amalia with the power of the sun. "Rise and shine, Your Highness," Vivi's voice sang. "It's a beautiful day out, isn't it?."

"Oh, yes," Amalia grumbled, protecting her eyes with her hand and not missing the amusement in Vivi's voice. "So, today's the day."

"Sure is," Vivi took her hand and guided her off the bed. One of the servants rolled out a divider in front of a large tub filled with warm water. "Today's to-do," she took out a parchment from a pocket hidden in the ruffles of her dress and unrolled it as Amalia was undressed and dumped into the bath. "Bath, massage, breakfast of course - can't start a long day without it. Then we'll pick out a gown from a lineup, lunch."

Amalia lifted her arm to interrupt, "Why is it going to take until lunch to choose a gown?"

"Well, this was all last minute, everything that could be made in time, was, to give you variety."

"Let's narrow it down. I don't want anything with black. Black is the color for mourning and I don't want anyone to think that I am, my brother will recover. How far does that narrow it down?"

"We'll have time for morning tea."

"Hmm," she was lifted from the tub and dried off with the softest towels they had, then she was led to her lounging chair. "White lace, red, and what goes good with red?" The women began to massage oils into her skin, the smell of lavender eased her anxiety. She hadn't realized she'd been so tense until their fingers worked into the kinks in her muscles.

"Maybe, gold?"

"Gold ascent it is. How's that?"

"Amazing, you've chosen a dress without having looked at it at all. Now we have time for morning tea, a walk in the garden, and pretending you don't want to run away. Do you at least want to make sure it’s not ugly?"

"I'm not too concerned about it. I trust that you wouldn't let an ugly dress in the lineup."

"Aww, how sweet, please say more."

Amalia waved her hand dismissively, "There's nothing else, it was hard enough to think of that. Continue with my schedule."

"After lunch we'll have you practice your speech."

"Speech, what speech?"

"The one you've prepared with so much humility and thoughtfulness, here it is," she pulled out a page from under her list and handed it to Amalia.

"That does sound just like me," she skimmed the page, a grimace growing the further down she went. "Well, I guess I'll get to memorizing it."

"Yes, please, you've worked hard on it. We'll also go through the steps for when you accept the heirship. It's all really useless ceremonial garbage."

Amalia looked up from the page at her with a smile, "You really don't know how to keep your words in your head."

Vivi gasped with offense, "Of course I do, just with people I respect." She grinned at her with all her teeth.

"Yes, of course, my mistake," the servants stood her up and began dressing her in her day clothes. "Anyways, I was there for my brother's so I know the gist of it."

"Next, is..."

The day went on in a blur, almost as if she were in someone else's body. By the time she was aware of herself, she was dressed in her ball gown, her hair was done up with lace ribbons, and her face was painted for the first time since her brother's journey.

She followed Vivi across the halls to the giant double doors of the ball room. Vivi looped their arms together, "You're going to be just fine, I'm here with you." Amalia took a deep breath and slowly released it. 

Two men opened the doors and another announced their entrance.

The crowd stepped to the sides with bows and curtsies, leaving a path for her to walk toward her parents. Vivi curtsied to the King and Queen, "Your Majesties," she spoke softly, in a way she never had with Amalia. Then she disappeared off in the crowd that had gone back to dancing. Amalia glared at her retreating back.

"It took you long enough to get here, daughter," her mother said with mirth.

"Well, I had to make sure that I memorized the speech I apparently wrote with much deliberation. It truly is one of the speeches I have worked on without knowing."

"I have plenty of experience with that," her father laughed as he squeezed his wife's hand.

"I tried to spot the Remnos family on my way over here and I'm afraid that I missed them, are they here? Have you greeted them?"

"For someone late you sure are impatient," he said, eyes sparkling. She looked away from her father's eyes. "We've sent someone to find them, we were only waiting for you."

"Then we must get to it then," her mother stood, dragging her husband with her, then she looped her arm around Amalia's.

Despite her back turned away from them, Amalia recognized Raymona by the way she stood. Poised and refined. Her dress, though clearly well-worn, was cared for in such a way that made it appear more valuable than any of Amalia's. There were two young men with her, one she assumed to be her youngest boy, Bren. The other, however, she didn’t recognize. He caught her attention, because while Bren appeared bored and uninterested, he looked uncomfortable but somehow relaxed. It was the sort of relaxed noticeable as an act. 

"May we intrude?" her father spoke and Raymona swirled around, almost losing her balance as her dressed twisted around her legs. But she recovered from her surprise and curtsied with the elegance of a lady. Bren, noticing his mother had moved, turned around with a yawn.

The other man's attention was on a young woman across the room eyeing him mischievously as if she knew him. He lifted a hand to move some hair behind his ear, but his mother snatched it and forced him to turn. He stumbled and lowly grumbled in annoyance only to quickly right himself upon seeing who he faced.

He was beautiful. Stunningly so. Porcelain skin under messy dark brown hair and nearly black, downturned eyes stared at her with curiosity.

"Your majesties, it's never an intrusion. My family and I are honored to have received such a gracious invitation."

"Not at all," the Queen cooed, she grabbed Raymona's hands in her own and clutched them close to her bosom. "We would have much preferred to have greeted you on more personal terms, however," she trailed off. Her smile, though still plastered high up on her cheeks, strained and twitched, and failed to reach her eyes. "Please, I would love for the heroes of the day to introduce themselves."

Raymona curtsied again hastily, awkwardly, "That is too grand a word for us, our duty is to serve. Nonetheless, I am the late wife of Fredrick Remnos, he was a humble merchant, my name is Raymona." She gestured a hand in Bren's direction, "This is my youngest boy, Bren, he tended to the horses. He listens well and does as he is told." She turned to her other son.

The King looked up and down his slender frame, "Th-this is not the brave warrior, is it?" Amalia understood what her father was thinking. He was tall, but his younger brother was taller and had more meat on his bones. Between that and the frequent trailing gaze towards the ladies of less conservative dress, he was hardly 'warrior' material'.

"Oh no, he is my oldest boy, Vergil. He was otherwise occupied elsewhere at the time," she narrowed her eyes almost imperceptibly at him, her smile still hanging on her lips. Amalia had seen that look on her own mother's face many times.

"Trust when I say, everyone's better off that I wasn't there," he pulled his lips back, drawing attention to his pearly white teeth; nightmare inducing. It never met his eyes and held a fearless mischievousness. He didn't seem to hold his life in high regard.  People like him were dangerous. "I tend to cause more problems than I solve."

His mother quickly boxed his ears, then curtsied, "I apologize he doesn't mean most of the things that come out of his mouth."

Amalia winced, looking for a reaction from her parents, they kept their expressions unreadable. An ability trained through years of dealing in politics. "So, where is your other son?" the king asked. 

"Oh, he, right now he’s."

"He’s running late, is what mother is trying to say," Vergil interrupted. "I’m sure she’s just a little embarrassed that he made us leave without him. He’s always so last minute. He’s the type to make a big entrance," he looked at Amalia as he finished speaking.

A big entrance, she thought, she could understand that with how he so impulsively ran into danger like he had. Her face reddened, imagining how he might show up now.

"As long as he shows up I’ll be glad and if he makes it a spectacle I’m sure we’ll notice him right away," the queen laughed endearingly. "We shall leave you to enjoy yourselves for the time being." The family bowed before them as they walked away. 

When Amalia had been about to accept an offer to dance the doors to the ballroom opened. She retracted her hand from the reach of the gentleman and fully faced the entrance. Ethan stood erect with his head held high and clothed almost entirely in bright green except for his white undershirt and pristine black boots. The suit glittered and sparkled with an array of colors when he began to move in the light, and the dark green beads arranged in such lovely patterns, seemed to dance. It was the most beautiful suit she'd ever laid eyes on.

She moved towards him, her eyes sparkling with the same intensity as that of the suit. In her expensive silk and lace ball gown she felt plain comparably. Eyes were on him, the dancing slowed as they focused their attention, and whispers behind glasses floated in the air. 

"What was he thinking?"

"He looks like someone’s expelled supper." 

"Perhaps that suit is better off in the bedroom, that is, locked away in the back of the closet."

"It looks great on him." It was said a little sadly but with earnest. She turned to find a soft look on Vergil's face. The smile on his lips wasn't like the one from earlier. It fell and he tore his gaze away, accidentally making eye contact with Amalia. He seemed to shamefully shy away. When she turned back to Ethan, he was looking at Vergil with a dry expression.

"I apologize for my late entrance, Your Highness."

"I hardly mind, Ethan. It was worth the wait. Your brother, Vergil, said you liked to make a big entrance, I can see he was not exaggerating."

"Did he now," he spun Amalia around by the tips of her fingers and pulled her back. "No, I'm not surprised he did."

"You and your brothers, you get along well?" she could hear the forelorning in her own voice.

It was a second before he responded, as if he were calculating his response. "As well as we can, I suppose." Then that meant they didn't. How unfortunate.

Amalia pulled an arm length away, hands on his wrists, "I absolutely adore your suit. It brings so much life into the room, it was...I think I needed that."

His eyes rounded, then they narrowed in the direction behind her, "I'm surprised. I wasn't attempting to make a statement or anything." They pulled back together and continued dancing, a soft smile on his lips as he looked upon her. Not directly in her eyes, never in the eyes.

"I understand that. You're just wearing what you like. Oh, but I would so like to know who made it for you. And who designed it!"

"Vergil gifted it to me, you would have to ask him."

"Vergil," she thought of the man who was adorned in such a boring, common suit. "That's sweet of him. Siblings are the only ones who truly know us." Ethan seemed to be searching for a response and after a long moment passed Amalia said, "My parents and I were discussing something about you."

"Me? I hope good."

She giggled, a rosy hue gracing her brown skin, "Of course.  We would like to reward you for your bravery."

"I haven’t need of any reward, your Highness. I had only done what was right."

"There’s not many people who would. What is good should be rewarded. But, you have yet to hear our offer, you mustn’t refuse till you’ve listened."

"You are right, I apologize for my hastiness."

"It’s all forgiven. You are being humble, it’s a virtue that shouldn’t be punished. As for the reward, we would like you to join the knighthood."

Ethan’s eyes went wide and he pulled away from her again, "Are you serious?" She bit her bottom lip, smiling playfully, and nodded. A grin over took Ethan's face, the grandest she'd ever seen. "You really think I'm good enough for such a thing?"

"Well, probably not," she crossed her arms. "Yet, that is. If you accept the offer there'll be a lot of difficult, torturous training ahead of you. Or so I've heard. To be honest, I'm not sure how much of a reward it really is. It's what my parents decided to offer you, however if you'd prefer-"

"It'll be an honor," he excitedly interrupted. Then coming to his sense he bowed low, "I apologize, your highness, I didn't mean any disrespect, I'm just truly grateful."

"No need to apologize, I hadn't taken any offense. If it pleases you so much then I am glad. Shall we continue our waltz?" she offered her hand, palm down, for him to take. He smiled handsomely at her and her stomach fluttered. Just before he took her hand in his, he froze.

Ethan pulled back his hand and bowed, "Please excuse me, there's something that I suddenly have to take care of. An urgent family matter," he skirted around her, bowed one more time before jogging through the crowd.

She stared at his retreating back with amazement, mouth agape and hands shooting up in confusion. Then she saw his older brother, Vergil, with his hand around Vivi's waist being led out of the ballroom by a servant's entrance. Ethan followed after them. Shortly after they came out. Vergil was stumbling and laughing as Ethan dragged him by the arm. The older man patted Ethan on the chest merrily, even from across the room the deep rose color on his cheeks stood out.

She had yet to give her speech, to even be heralded as (temporary) heir, and the man was entirely intoxicated. How much time had even passed before he had decided to make friends with their wines? For that matter, Amalia curled her lip at Vivi who currently leaned against the wall annoyed, when had he made friends with her?

 Vivi smiled at her, she couldn't help but smile back. Well, she couldn't possibly be mad at her, she was always busy dealing with Amalia's affairs. She deserved a break however she saw fit to take it. Vergil, however, seemed to do nothing but take breaks from any sort of responsibility. Whether he even knew the meaning of the word was up for debate.

In opposition, Ethan was a gentleman, taking on the responsibility of caring for his foolish brother. Amalia found her cheeks lit with a fire and her heart pounding against her chest.