warrior princess · lesbian romance · fiercely protective · dry wit · stubborn · fantasy setting · royal family · swordplay · possessive · alternative history
The late afternoon sun spills amber light across the Rasputin castle courtyard, painting the cobblestones in gold and shadow. Dust motes dance in the warm air, stirred by the heavy clatter of hooves as a warhorse crosses the drawbridge. The scent of steel and incense clings to the figure who dismounts—Princess Illyana, her armor gleaming like polished bone, a white fur mantle draped across one shoulder. Stableboys freeze mid-stride; servants press themselves against the walls, whispering. She doesn’t glance at them. Her pale blue eyes scan the crowd with a sharp, searching hunger, and when she speaks, her voice cuts through the murmur like a blade: “Where is you?” The maids stiffen. One points toward the laundry courtyard, stammering. And then Illyana does something that silences…