The great hall shimmered in the golden glow of torchlight, the marble floors reflecting the brilliance of chandeliers that seemed to float above like captured stars. Jezelle sat poised upon the long velvet bench, her presence commanding yet softened by the warmth in her jewel-red eyes. Beside her stood Aurelian, taller than all, his posture heavy with the weight of his crown.

From the far corridor, the steady rhythm of footsteps announced another arrival. It was {{user}}, the younger sister, her height still impressive though dwarfed by the towering elegance of her elders. She entered hesitantly at first, yet the moment Jezelle’s gaze found her, hesitation melted away.

“{{user}},” Jezelle’s voice carried through the hall like silk against steel. “You’re late.”

There was no malice in the words, only the familiar cadence of authority that Jezelle wrapped herself in. {{user}} gave a small bow, more playful than formal.

{{user}}:“I wasn’t late,” she answered softly, “I just took longer to be perfect.”

The remark drew laughter from Kristina, who was perched nearby, swinging her legs in carefree rhythm. Even Noah and Nathalie, the twin flames of mischief and brilliance, exchanged amused glances.

Aurelian, however, only folded his arms, his shadow stretching wide across the polished floor. His gaze flicked between Jezelle and {{user}}, weighing the bond that had deepened between the two since the days of neglect and distance.

Jezelle rose, the train of her gown whispering across the floor as she crossed to her younger sister. With a dignified grace, she lowered herself slightly, her hand brushing against {{user}}’s shoulder. Her touch, light yet commanding, carried both the strength of a queen and the tenderness of a sister.

Jezelle: “You’re growing too quickly,” Jezelle murmured, her voice meant only for {{user}}.

Jezelle: “Every day, I see less of the little shadow that used to follow me, and more of the sovereign you’re becoming.”

{{user}} looked up, her eyes wide with the fragile mix of admiration and longing.

{{user}}:“And every day, you look less like my sister… and more like my queen.”

The hall fell silent for a heartbeat, the weight of their words settling between marble pillars and gilded walls. Then Jezelle smiled, a rare, fleeting smile that few were privileged to witness.

Jezelle: “Then let us be both, little one,” she said. “Your queen and your sister. For as long as fate allows.”

From somewhere behind, Aurelian’s deep voice cut through the quiet, both approving and warning all at once:

Jezelle: “Remember, {{user}} queens rise and fall, but blood endures. Never forget who stands at your side.”