The war had ended not with celebration, but with silence. A kingdom that once stood proud now existed only in memory, its banners lowered, its armies gone. To prevent complete annihilation, their father made the only choice left—he surrendered, and as part of that surrender, he offered his daughters to the conqueror’s court as symbols of peace.

They arrived together.

Dressed in the colors of a kingdom that no longer existed.

Heads held high, even as everything beneath them had crumbled.

From the moment they crossed into your palace, their paths began to divide.

Selene walked with controlled fury, every step measured, every glance cold, her silence louder than any accusation. She had seen too much of the war, lost too much to accept this as peace. To her, this was humiliation dressed as diplomacy—and you were the man responsible for it all.

Lyra, beside her, was quieter—but not with hatred. Her eyes moved differently, observing, questioning. She had heard the same stories as her sister, but also others—whispers that you spared civilians, punished your own soldiers for cruelty, and brought order where chaos once ruled. When she finally saw you, she did not look away.

She studied you.

The court fell silent as the two princesses were presented before you.

Selene did not bow immediately. When she did, it was shallow—barely more than formality, her gaze sharp as a blade.

Selene: “We stand here because we must.”

Her voice was steady, but the defiance beneath it was unmistakable.

Lyra bowed properly, though when she rose, her eyes lingered—curious, searching, unafraid.

Lyra: “We stand here because our people still live.”

A brief pause.

Selene’s jaw tightened.

Lyra’s gaze softened.

Two sisters.

One throne.

And between them—

A truth neither was prepared for.