Chapter Text
King Mikage had made his expectations known even before he ever had children: a male heir, strong and unquestioning, to inherit his crown and carry the bloodline. For years, the young Queen tried to deliver him his dream, enduring pressure from her husband's cold and bitter silence. Her womb had become a source of quiet disdain.
Then, miraculously, came Reo.
A faint bump emerged under the Queen's robes, growing more pronounced as the weeks went by. Rumors spread quickly, and the public was calling it a divine favor. Though when the child was born and revealed to be a girl, the King’s face set like hardened stone. Still, this was not a defeat for him. He demanded another child. But it seems this was God's final offering. Queen Mikage was declared infertile, a devastating fate for a woman of her lineage.
Reo grew in silence.
The public saw nothing of her. Many believed the Queen had birthed a stillborn, or maybe hidden away an unsightly child. The King did little to dismiss the rumors. In truth, he barely acknowledged her existence. His eyes never quite met hers, almost always staring through her, never directly at her.
But Reo had her mother.
Queen Mikage, an easy pawn of the traditional Royal beliefs herself, poured every ounce of her being into shaping Reo into something greater… something more refined, clever, poised.
She trained her not just in etiquette, but in philosophy, dance, fencing, and diplomacy. Reo was not born for the throne. But under her mother's guidance, she was forged for it. Reo herself was a weapon, and her grace was her armor.
When she turned sixteen, Reo stepped out of the gates of the Royal Castle for the first time to attend her debutante ball. Whispers were heard from Kingdom to Kingdom of the stunning Mikage girl. Eyes followed her everywhere, many whispered behind fans and glasses of wine, and the suitors came running–eager to charm the princess.
At first, Reo basked in the attention. She had never received this much recognition from anyone around her in years. Compliments dripped like honey from the countless amounts of princes and dukes. But this excitement quickly turned into exhaustion. Their hands were too rough, their words too rehearsed. Their presence bothered her. What had once seemed flattering now made her skin crawl. None of them could touch her heart, let alone her soul.
They all shared the same flaw.
She couldn't explain the discomfort she felt when talking to them. It was a quiet ache, a void that grew each time she sat through another dinner with a man who much less cared about her hobbies. The closest she ever came to tenderness and admiration was during fencing lessons–watching the duchesses, sharp and graceful.
By eighteen, Reo made a quiet vow: she would never marry a man.
But her mother, desperate to uphold the peace in the Royal Court, tried even harder. Reo’s rejection of suitors would reflect poorly on the Mikage name, and worse… on her. Dinners, balls, tournaments. These events were all meticulously crafted as a cage. And Reo, ever the pleaser, played her role as the bird.
She wasn't just uninterested in these men. She was downright repulsed. The idea of spending the rest of her life with a man, of becoming some prince’s plaything, made her feel uneasy. And yet the word “no” rested behind her lips, unspoken, held back by her obedience for her mother.
It seemed that nearly every week, the halls of the Mikage palace were glittered with gold, music, and champagne.
Balls had become routine. They were thrown with such frequency that the servants even began to joke about numbering them. At twenty-three, the pressure was heavier than ever for Reo. The King had grown more impatient, the Queen more desperate, and Reo… more exhausted. It was always the same. Smiling at strangers, toasting to nothing, dancing with men whose names she forgot before the next song started.
Tonight was no different.
“He looks refined, Reo. If he won't come to you, then go to him first.” Her mother urged in a stern whisper.
Reo rolled her eyes just to make herself feel rebellious, though not enough for the Queen to notice. Still, she straightened her spine, adjusted her skirts, and nodded.
“I suppose I could talk to him,” she said with feigned interest.
The Queen beamed, oblivious to the lie in her daughter's tone, and turned to greet another noble. Reo sighed quietly and began to cross the ballroom floor, heels echoing faintly.
The mystery prince stood near one of the grand columns, watching the crowd with disinterest. His hair, light gray and strategically messy, brushed against the collar of a white raiment with violet hues. He looked to be around Reo’s age, perhaps a bit older–and was unusually tall, almost matching Reo’s already tall stature. A quiet sort of elegance surrounded him, as if he did not want to be noticed.
As Reo drew closer, the prince turned around. And in that instance, something shifted.
The dullness in his eyes went away, replaced by a quiet spark. His lips, previously frowning, twitched upward with the faintest smile. He extended his hand slowly, carefully, and Reo noticed how smooth and gentle his fingers looked. Not the hands of a warrior or a savage, but of someone… softer.
“Princess Reo…” His voice was calm. Warm, even. Unlike the arrogant drawl she was used to hearing from other nobles.
Reo took his hand reluctantly, forcing a smile as her skin touched his. But the touch startled her. There was no roughness, no stiffness. His touch was graceful, fluid, and deliberate. In a way that felt almost practiced.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him.
His features were…. wrong. No, not wrong. Just unexpected. Long lashes framed his eyes, his lips were fuller than most men's, his cheekbones high and smooth. His posture, while tall, wasn't rigid. It flowed. And his presence… Reo couldn't quite place it, but something about him troubled her in a way that wasn't unpleasant.
She tilted her head. “And who might you be?” She asked, voice harsh but curious.
There was a glint in his eyes when he said his next words.
“Princess Seishiro. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
Time stopped.
The word ‘Princess’ slipped into her ears like a whispered secret in a room too loud to hear. Her entire expression changed. She quickly let go of his hand as if it had burned her. Her gaze swept him from head to toe in confusion.
“...Princess?” she repeated, blinking.
Seishiro nodded, their expression unchanging.
“Though I prefer Nagi, if that's alright with you, Princess.”
Reo stared. Hard.
Nagi wore a prince’s garb. Their hair was cropped short, their frame sturdy and tall. They spoke like a diplomat and moved like a dancer. Nothing about them matched what Reo had been taught a princess should be. And yet… They felt more like royalty than anyone else in the room.
Reo couldn't explain the unease blooming in her chest. It wasn't fear. It wasn't even discomfort. It was something numbing, something that made her throat feel tight and her chest feel full. She dared not look away.
Neither did Nagi.
Reo was snapped out of her trance by the sound of her mother's voice.
“Reo, darling. Your father wishes to speak with you.”
Reo thought she misheard. The King? Her father hardly spared her a glance, let alone a conversation. The sudden request felt more jarring than anything that had happened that evening.
Reo stood grounded before turning her head just enough to see her mother approaching, the pearls on her gown glistening like stars under the chandelier light. Her expression seemed calm, but her voice said otherwise.
“The King is waiting,” the Queen added, her hand resting on Reo’s arm with a firm grip.
Reo looked back at Nagi, who was still standing by the columns, eyes steady, posture serene. That quiet spark in their eyes hadn't dimmed. Reo felt something unspoken pressing at her chest, but the words wouldn't come out.
“I…” she started, her voice trailing off.
The Queen's grip tightened.
With one last glance at Nagi, Reo turned.
“Of course,” she said, quieter than she meant to, and let her mother guide her away.
As they walked, the ballroom's colors seemed to dull. Her mother whispered something about timing and appearances, but Reo wasn't listening. Her mind solely focused on one thing, one elegant figure.
Nagi.
She rolled the name once more in her mind, then in her mouth. It lingered on her tongue like forbidden fruit, finding it sweeter than anything Heaven ever promised.