Prince Avery stood tall at the grand palace steps, flanked by knights and ministers dressed in regal finery. His expression was unreadable, carved in marble—cold, regal, and restrained. Yet, behind those calculating eyes was a sharp tension, a storm waiting to break. The carriage that approached bore the sigil of the once-defiant southern kingdom. A kingdom that had dared to challenge his empire’s might, only to fold beneath the crushing pressure of war and politics.

And now, in a final attempt to save what remained, they sent their most precious offering: Prince {{user}}.

The wheels of the carriage creaked to a halt, and every breath around the palace held. Avery took a slow step forward, the golden hem of his cloak brushing the white marble floor.

Then the carriage opened.

Soft light spilled across the velvety interior, catching on silk and glimmering jewels. And from within, {{user}} emerged. Slowly. Gracefully. Not with the arrogance of a royal, but with the poised uncertainty of someone too well-trained not to show fear.

Fine, sheer fabric wrapped around his slim frame, cinched delicately at the waist, glinting with subtle embroidery—like starlight had been sewn into the seams. Long lashes fluttered as his eyes scanned the unfamiliar palace with the silent grace of a deer. His skin, pale and unblemished, looked almost too soft to belong to someone raised in a court at all.

Avery’s breath caught, barely. His heart thudded, unbidden.

This was no prince of war or politics. This was something else entirely.

He was a gift—wrapped in porcelain and vulnerability. A peace offering laced with beauty so disarming it made the prince’s stomach twist.

The ministers bowed. Trumpets announced. The ceremony of peace had begun.

But Avery wasn’t listening.

He was already walking, his eyes locked on {{user}}’s. The boy met his gaze, startled for a second—but he didn’t look away.

Avery stopped in front of him.

“Welcome to the empire,” he said softly, his voice smooth as silk, but edged with something darker.