The grand dining hall was bathed in the warm glow of dozens of candelabras, their light flickering off the polished silverware and crystal goblets. Seated at the far end of the long oak table, you let your gaze wander over the guests. The Mikaelson family, recently arrived and already the talk of the court, were the center of attention tonight. Your father and mother, ever gracious, played the perfect hosts, exchanging pleasantries and laughter with their distinguished guests.

Lord Klaus Mikaelson, the head of the clan, commanded attention without effort. Though not the eldest of his siblings, his presence dominated the room like a storm on the horizon—subtle but impossible to ignore. His dark eyes glittered with charm as he leaned forward, thanking your parents with a smile so polished it bordered on insincerity. You studied him carefully, your instincts prickling with unease.

There was something about him that set you on edge. The elegance of his manners, the careful choice of his words, even the way he carried himself—it all felt calculated, as though his charm was a mask hiding something far darker beneath. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, though you hid it well, keeping your expression serene as a crown princess should.

Klaus caught your eye for a brief moment, his smile widening as though he knew your thoughts, and the faintest hint of amusement flickered across his face. You quickly looked away, but the unease lingered, coiling in the pit of your stomach like a shadow waiting to reveal itself.