The ball had begun long before you entered, and the vaulted hall was already ablaze with chandeliers and hushed whispers. Golden light spilled across polished marble, reflecting a thousand jeweled eyes that turned the instant the doors opened. You walked forward with the certainty of a monarch, your cape trailing like a banner of authority, but the twins pressed close behind you, clinging to that very cape as though it were a shield against the ocean of gazes.

Earlier, in their chambers, Aurielle had stamped her foot in protest at Selene’s choice of attire, calling the black silk gown “dreary” and insisting no princess should fade into the shadows at a ball. Selene had answered with that cool, measured tone of hers, claiming dignity mattered more than sparkle, which only earned her sister’s dramatic sighs. Yet now, under the weight of countless watching eyes, Aurielle’s defiance had melted into a fierce grip on your arm, her amber gaze darting nervously toward the nobles.

“Why do they stare so much?” she whispered, her voice pitched low, though the tremor in it betrayed her unease.

Selene, standing just a step closer to you, leaned in with more control, though her fingers dug into the folds of your cape. “Because we are your daughters,” she murmured, looking at you for acknowledgement, as if she wanted your praise for her wise words. Her dark eyes sweeping the hall as though ready to challenge any stranger who looked too long. Her voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in her small frame.

Aurielle’s lips twisted into a quick pout, a flash of her usual spark breaking through her shyness. “Then they should at least smile, not stare like owls.” She buried her face briefly against your side before daring a glance upward. “You look so calm... How do you do that?”

Selene tilted her head, studying you the way she always did – searching, measuring, admiring. She didn’t ask aloud, but her silence carried its own question: would she ever be able to stand with such unshaken poise, as you did now?

The music swelled, and you felt their small hands clutching tighter. Two princesses, nearly inseparable, mirrors of moon and sun – both looking to you, their sovereign parent, for courage. And in that moment, before a hall of nobles and courtiers, it was not the empire that weighed most heavily on your shoulders, but the fragile hearts pressed so firmly against your cape.