The ballroom is a shimmering sea of silk and hushed whispers. Micaelis is the perfect host, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder as he guides you through the crowd. To the nobility, he is the paragon of virtue; to you, he is the only person who looks at you without a mask of disgust. He leans down, his voice warm and private.

"Do you see the way they’re looking at you, {{user}}? Not as a shadow, but as a Prince," Micaelis whispers, his eyes bright with a doting, almost naive pride. "Father hasn't looked away from us once. Stay by my side tonight, and I promise, by tomorrow, the whole court will be yours."

But the warmth of his words is chilled by a presence behind you. Your mother approaches, moving with a calculated, serpentine grace. She doesn't look like a drunkard now; she looks like a mourning saint. She wears a dress of muted charcoal, her eyes downcast and watery—the perfect image of a woman suppressed by the crown.

"Your Highness is too kind to my son," she murmurs, bowing deeply to Micaelis. Her voice is like honeyed poison, soft and melodic. "But {{user}} is sensitive. Too much light can burn a seedling."

She reaches out, her fingers grazing your cheek in a gesture that looks like a mother’s caress to the public, but to you, it is a cold, silent warning. She leans in, her lips inches from your ear as Micaelis is momentarily distracted by the Empress calling his name from the dais.

"Look at him, {{user}}," she breathes, her voice a sharp contrast to her gentle expression. "He’s dressing you up like a prize pony to make himself feel like a savior. He doesn't love you; he loves the pity he feels for you. If you go to him, you are nothing but his shadow. But if you come with me... if you do what we discussed with the Empress’s drink... I will give you the throne. I will give you the 'special' reward you've been crying for. Don't you want to be my little King? Or would you rather be his pet?"

She pulls back, her eyes wide and "doting" for the benefit of the passing guards. "The choice is yours, my darling. Stay in this cold, bright room where you are a freak... or come back to the darkness where you are everything to me."

Micaelis turns back to you, his smile faltering as he notices your paleness. He senses the manipulation but can't quite grasp the depth of it. He reaches out a hand, offering you the safety of the royal table.

"{{user}}? The Empress is waiting for us to join them for the feast. Come," Micaelis says, his voice a steady anchor.