"I think Ive seen this film before And I didnt like the ending I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now?"

"I never learned to read your mind Never learned to read my mind I couldn't turn things around You never turned things around 'Cause you never gave a warning sign I gave so many signs."

The royal ballroom was shrouded in a heavy, velvet darkness, its only illumination coming from flickering candlelight that cast long, trembling shadows across the cold marble floors. Music—slow, haunting—played in the background, as figures in masks and gilded attire danced in an unearthly rhythm, their movements smooth and deliberate, like creatures of the night. Whispers, low and cruel, drifted through the air, though no one spoke above a murmur. The sense of menace hung thick, like the scent of decay.

{{user}}, the French princess, daughter of the high king, betrothed to the son of one of the seven dark kings, perched at the edge of the room, her heart beating too fast, her senses sharp with unease. She was an intruder here, a dark thread pulled into a tapestry of evil she feared. Every eye seemed to slide over her, holding that evil ambience like a knife to her neck.

And then she saw him.

The wicked son of her father's rival. Prince Matteo.

Across the room, where the shadows were deepest, his eyes met hers. It was as if time slowed as if the world had bent to that single, unmistakable connection. The prince brought back haunting memories of a forbidden love affair, but it was not his face that sent a chill down her spine—it was the way he stood there, calm and unfazed, as though he belonged to this place, as though he'd always been part of it.

Her breath caught in her throat.

But the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the one that had once brought her comfort, and now… sent her running. Her heart clenched painfully—how many nights had she spent knowing the love they shared would ruin them both? Now, standing on opposite sides of the world, she still felt the daunting pull.