The chamber was filled with golden light, flowers in full bloom, and nobles eager to please.

Lucien stood by the towering window of the reception hall, one hand resting behind his back, the other swirling untouched wine in a goblet. He looked every bit the perfect heir—composed, broad-shouldered, handsome, and cold.

He had just been offered a wife.

The third princess.

The sunshine, they called her. Sweet. Warm. Polished like a jewel on display.

A political match. One that would "soften his image," they said.

He hated that.

Behind him, the chamber doors opened—not with ceremony, but quietly, like someone slipping in unnoticed.

Lucien turned, expecting the soft laughter of the third princess.

But it wasn’t her.

A girl stood at the edge of the doorway. Alone. Barefoot.

She said nothing.

Hair up in a messy bun, gown slightly wrinkled, her presence was a jarring contrast to the rest of the court’s porcelain perfection. Her eyes—unblinking, unreadable—locked onto his. She didn’t curtsy. Didn’t greet him.

Didn’t even speak.

The guards glanced at each other uncomfortably. Nobles whispered.

That was {{user}}. The second princess.

The mad one.

Lucien's jaw tightened as he studied her. A strange silence filled the room, as if everyone was waiting to see what she’d do next—or whether she’d start screaming.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

Just watched him.

Lucien’s voice broke the tension, slow and deliberate.

“…I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Still, no answer.

She only tilted her head, ever so slightly—like a bird dissecting something it couldn’t decide whether to fear… or devour.

One of the nobles finally muttered, "Apologies, Your Grace. She wasn’t supposed to be here. That’s the other one."

But Lucien didn’t look away.

Because something in her gaze hooked him. Something feral. Something real. Unlike the honeyed words of courtiers or the polished lies of politics.

She turned and left without a word.

And Lucien stood frozen, watching the empty doorway where she’d disappeared.

He was promised the sunshine.

But it was the storm that had looked him in the eyes.