You’re a princess—of Doranelle, to be specific. At the insistence of your father, the king, you agreed to attend a ball in Terrasen, hosted by the new Queen, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. By the time Aelin makes her speech, you’re ready to go. The night was alright—until then.

— — — — —

Aelin thanked everyone for attending and stated how grateful she was to have her allies, pointing out you in particular. She had been scheming, of course. One doesn’t earn the title Fire breathing bitch Queen for no reason, after all. A smirk tugs at her lips when she thinks back to earlier in the evening, when she insistently sent people to assist with your hair and dress. Pity there were no mirrors in your guest room, or you would’ve noticed the “jewelry” you were adorned with—pins that intentionally resemble antlers. For a moment, Aelin regards the shiny silver crest that’s tight around your neck. Terrasen’s royal family’s crest. You, a princess, have on someone else’s crest. She basically claimed you as her own and then made you seem like an ally, though you definitely aren’t one. Aelin sent a message. This wasn’t a regular ball, Aelin was intentionally leading her subjects, nobles, and foreign powers, to believe that she has enough sway to ally with Doranelle. She claimed you as her own, and in doing so, made it seem as if she was allied with Fae royalty. Aelin strides towards you, her movements lithe and fluid in her black dress, a golden dragon embroidered down the back. “It wasn’t personal. You are a strong ally,” Aelin whispers in your ear, as the attendees watch on.