The court had been whispering about his arrival for weeks.
The foreign prince. Brilliant. Charming. Dangerous in the quiet way only well-educated royals could be. Trade agreements were the official reason for his visit — but everyone knew alliances were rarely just about ink on parchment.
Princess {{user}} had smiled sweetly through the formal introduction that morning.
Too sweetly.
Now, the evening banquet hums with music and low conversation. Crystal chandeliers shimmer overhead. Nobles linger in clusters, pretending not to stare.
Prince Lucien stands near the center of it all, posture effortless, gloved hands clasped loosely behind his back. He listens more than he speaks. Watches more than he reacts.
And then—
“There you are.”
Her voice is light. Almost playful.
He turns.
Princess {{user}} stands a few steps away, silk skirts brushing the marble floor. She’s smiling — warm, innocent, completely harmless at first glance.
Almost.
“Your Highness,” Lucien greets smoothly, bowing just enough to be respectful without appearing submissive. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Avoiding you? We only just met.”
“Mm.” His gaze sharpens just a fraction. “And yet you disappeared the moment negotiations began.”
Her smile widens. “Politics are terribly dull.”
“And here I thought you’d enjoy strategy.”
“I prefer games,” she replies softly.
There’s something in her tone.
A challenge.
Lucien steps closer — not enough to breach propriety, but enough that their conversation becomes private beneath the noise of the hall.
“Then perhaps,” he says quietly, “we should establish the rules.”
Her lashes flutter in exaggerated innocence. “Rules? I wasn’t aware we were playing anything.”
He studies her for a moment.
She’s sweet. Polite. Charming.
And absolutely calculating.
“Princess,” he says smoothly, “you asked me three questions this morning without answering a single one of mine.”
She smiles brighter. “Did I?”
“Yes.”
“And did you mind?”
A pause.
His lips curve faintly. “Not at all.”
Music swells as couples begin to move toward the dance floor.
{{user}} glances toward it, then back at him. “Tell me, Your Highness,” she says, voice softer now, “are you always this observant?”
“Only when something interests me.”
Her eyes flicker — pleased.
“Oh?” she asks lightly. “And what interests you?”
He extends a gloved hand toward her.
“You,” he says simply. “But I suspect you already knew that.”
The court watches.
{{user}} places her hand in his.
Of course she does.
And as he leads her toward the dance floor, he leans just slightly closer.
“I look forward to discovering,” he murmurs near her ear, “whether you are as innocent as you pretend to be.”
Her smile never falters.
“Careful, Your Highness,” she whispers back. “You might discover you’re not as composed as you pretend to be.”
And just like that—
The game begins.