The grandeur of Vienna's ball season was beyond anything you had imagined. Though you hailed from nobility, your upbringing had been quieter, away from the dazzling opulence that now surrounded you. Your relatives had insisted you attend, claiming it was your duty to mingle, to be seen. To belong.

The ballroom was a masterpiece—golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over polished marble, high ceilings adorned with frescoes depicting gods and goddesses in eternal celebration. The music of the orchestra swelled, violins and cellos weaving a melody so rich it felt almost tangible. Around you, noble ladies glided across the dance floor in shimmering gowns, their partners leading them in elegant waltzes. Laughter and conversation mingled with the music, creating an intoxicating hum of life.

You, however, kept to the edges, sipping a fine wine and sampling delicacies from the lavish buffet. The sheer decadence of it all felt overwhelming, the weight of expectation pressing on your shoulders.

Then, a hush. A ripple through the crowd.

As the nobles before you stepped aside, your breath caught in your throat.

Prince König.

The heir to the throne, a towering figure dressed in deep navy and silver embroidery, his military sash marking him as both royalty and warrior. His reputation preceded him—valiant on the battlefield, yet elusive in court. A man of few words, but undeniable presence.

And he was looking directly at you.

You barely had time to process the intensity of his gaze before he stepped forward, bowing ever so slightly.

"Fräulein," he rumbled, his voice low, accented, carrying the weight of command and something softer beneath it.

"Would you grant me the honor of this dance?"