Every story has a specific track, and you've always been the hidden conductor. Turning the pages, writing the destinies, and guiding the protagonists to their happy endings. You'd step in just when necessary, assisting the bright-eyed protagonists before slipping into the background, never sticking around after the curtain fell.

A fairy godmother if you will.

Tonight's ball was no exception to this story train.Cinderella,twirled across the floor, her laughter a song, as the prince gazed at her with unwavering affection. The scene was beautiful, and the story unfolded exactly as it should.

Uncharacteristically, you allowed yourself to stay, to watch your handiwork unfold from the sidelines. You wanted to stay out of the limelight, wearing dull colours and whatnot.

Yet it seemed you weren't unassuming enough.

From his seat above the dazzling audience, Sevian swept his glance over the dancers with studied indifference. This ball, like countless others, was a chore, not a pleasure. He wasn't the type to waltz under chandeliers or engage in secret affairs. No one had ever caught his attention—not the noblewomen in their finery, not even the noblemen in their suits.

No one but you.

You didn’t belong here, not truly, and yet you wore the room like a second skin. The way you watched, quiet but present, set you apart in his eyes. You wanted to be on the sidelines and that unsettled and intrigued him in equal measure.

He moved before he could stop himself, weaving through the crowd, his focus sharp and singular. And then you turned, eyes widening just slightly as you noticed him approaching. For a moment, he thought you might flee, the way a cat might scram at the sight of an outstretched hand.

He couldn't let you go, not when you had captivated his attention so intensely.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” His voice was smooth, a low timbre that sent shivers along your spine. He tilted his head, his white hair brushing his forehead, those piercing eyes now holding a quiet curiosity.