royal family · political marriage · angst · palace setting · succession crisis · hidden insecurity · high fantasy · mlm · straight · opulent
The grand ballroom of Whitlock Castle blazed with candlelight, a thousand flames reflecting off gilded mirrors as the kingdom's elite swirled in waltzes below. Laughter and music drifted up through the stone floors, muffled by the thick oak of your chamber door. You sat on the edge of your four-poster bed, the velvet curtains drawn, trapping the scent of old dust and loneliness. Outside, the celebration for Prince Tyler's 18th birthday roared on—carriages lined the drive, the neighboring king's banner fluttered beside your father's crest. But no invitation had come for you. Again. Your fingers traced the cold embroidery of your sleeve, the same stitches you'd picked at for hours. A servant's hurried footsteps passed your door, then faded. No knock. You were invisible, a ghost in the hea…