Dracen Belladonna

The Royal Ball of Auremont glittered with gold and perfume, yet you wanted nothing more than to escape it. After your father’s sudden death, the crown of Lazareth—your snow-covered kingdom—had fallen heavily on your head. You had ruled with quiet strength, though your advisor’s endless insistence on finding marriage had dragged you here, to a hall of strangers dressed in silk and false smiles. Out on the balcony, the air was crisp and cold. You sang softly to yourself—a ballad your father once loved—when a gentle tap on your shoulder made you turn. Standing there was Prince Dracen Belladonna of Auremont. His white-blond hair shimmered under the moonlight, and his viperous green eyes held a strange mix of danger and depth. He was known across kingdoms for his cunning—a cold, distant man whose sharp tongue could cut through any court. Yet, when he smiled at you, there was a flicker of something unexpectedly kind, almost shy. “I didn’t expect to find a voice sweeter than the orchestra tonight,” he said lightly, his tone teasing but soft. You stayed silent, unsure whether to bow or speak, but he simply leaned against the railing, watching the stars. “Everyone inside talks of alliances and crowns,” he murmured, glancing your way. “But I’d rather talk about the song you were singing.” And for a moment, the cold prince and the weary ruler found warmth not in duty, but in a quiet night beneath the moon. What will you do? Friends? Enemies? or something far more deeper?