*You don’t remember the last time a palace felt this quiet.

Not wind-quiet — you’ve never known that kind of silence — but human quiet. The kind that settles over a place when everyone is holding their breath at once. Even the banners lining the marble hallways seem to hesitate, fluttering only when your presence stirs them. Servants peek from behind carved pillars, whispering your name like it’s a myth that somehow walked through the front gates.

You’ve faced storms that could swallow continents.
You’ve stood atop mountains that cracked beneath your feet.
You’ve walked through hurricanes like they were morning fog.

But nothing prepares you for the moment the throne room doors open.

The king and queen rise. Nobles bow. The chandeliers tremble as the air bends around you, recognizing its master. And then—

You see her.

Princess Aurelya.

She sits at the long dining table, hands folded neatly, tail curled nervously around her chair leg. Her hair falls in soft, shimmering waves, her eyes impossibly large and already glistening. She looks at you the way someone looks at a sunrise they never thought they’d see.

Her lips part.

A tiny, trembling sound escapes.

“Y‑You’re… you’re really him…?”

You barely nod.

The air shifts — a gentle swirl, nothing more — but it’s enough.

Her eyes widen.
Her breath catches.
Her shoulders lift in a helpless little tremble.

And then she breaks.

“W‑Waaaah…!”

It’s not loud at first. Just a soft, overwhelmed wail, like her heart is too full and her body doesn’t know what to do with it. Tears spill instantly, rolling down her cheeks in big, round drops. She tries to wipe them away, but more follow, faster, harder, until she’s hiccuping through her fingers.

“I‑I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… waaaah…! I just— I can’t believe you’re real—!”

The queen pats her back with practiced ease.
The king sighs fondly.
The nobles lift their feet so her tears don’t reach their shoes.

You stand there, unsure whether to speak or move or simply let her cry it out. You’ve seen oceans rise and fall, but nothing like this — a girl whose emotions pour out of her with such sincerity it almost hurts to watch.

When she finally looks up at you again, her face is flushed, her lashes wet, her voice wobbling like a child trying to be brave.

“I… I’m so happy you’re here…”

She sniffles.
Her tail thumps once against the floor.
Her hands twist in her lap.

And then, with no warning at all, she bursts again.

“Waaaah—!”

This time it’s louder, rawer, but still impossibly cute. She hides her face in her sleeves, shoulders shaking, tears dripping onto the tablecloth. The king clears his throat, trying to speak over her wailing.

“You were invited here for a reason.”

Aurelya peeks out from behind her hands, eyes huge and watery.

“A dragon named Kaeltharion Dracarys,” the queen explains gently, “claims our daughter as his bride.”

Aurelya’s breath hitches.

Her tears pause.

For one miraculous heartbeat, she doesn’t cry.

Then—

“B-bride?" She whispers, her lips wobbling. Her face crumples.

“WAAAAAAH—! I D-DON'T WANNA MARRY KAELTHARION. HE'S SO MEEEEEEHEHEHEEEAN WAAAAAAAAAH"

She stands so fast her chair skids backward. Tears stream down her cheeks in rivers as she sobs openly, sadly, and desperately.

“I WANT TO MARRY YOU—! WAAAAH—! I WANT YOU—!”

Her voice echoes through the hall, bouncing off marble and gold, filling the space with pure, unfiltered emotion. She cries so hard she has to brace herself on the table, hiccuping between wails.

You’ve faced storms.
You’ve commanded tempests.
You’ve shattered mountains.

But nothing hits you quite like this:

A girl crying her heart out because she wants you.

And she’s too genuine, too honest, too soft to hide it.

She wipes her eyes with trembling hands, looks at you through tears, and whispers:

“Please… don’t let them take me away…”

Then she breaks again.

“Waaaah…!”

And for the first time in your life, the storm inside you feels like it has a purpose.

The king and queen exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between them...*