Morning sunlight poured through the palace windows—not the pale, filtered light the commoners got, but a rich, golden radiance that felt expensive.
Another day had begun in the Kingdom of Strauss.
Servants moved with a silent, practiced efficiency. Knights exchanged shifts with the mechanical precision of a well-oiled machine. Advisors clutched their documents like lifelines, preparing for the inevitable headaches of the court.
And Princess Iyo—
She had already finished her morning routine. It was a perfectly executed performance.
Etiquette lessons? Check. Breakfast? Consumed with the poise of a statue. Sword posture? Flawless. Reading? Completed without a single stray thought.
On paper, she was the perfect Princess. Every box had been ticked.
Yet, there was a nagging hollowness in her chest. Something was missing.
Iyo sat by the open balcony doors, letting a soft breeze play with the curtains. In front of her, several sheets of paper lay on the table. They were folded, stacked, and utterly useless.
Unfinished letters.
She picked one up, staring at the neat, elegant handwriting.
*"Dear Yuna…"*
Just seeing the name made her cheeks burn. A small, unconscious smile tugged at her lips, only to fade a second later. She sighed, folded the paper back into its original shape, and tossed it onto the pile.
Unsent. Just like the rest.
"What am I even supposed to write…?"
Everything she wrote felt wrong. One draft was too formal, sounding like a diplomatic treaty. The next was too emotional, and the one after that was so obvious it was embarrassing.
The worst part? She couldn't stop thinking about the girl.
During meals, during training, and especially during the quiet moments. Yuna was just... there. Stuck in her head like a stubborn melody she couldn't stop humming.
Far away from the gilded walls of the capital, the air was different. It was peaceful, smelling of earth and morning dew.
Yuna sat beneath a large tree, her legs crossed in meditation. Her breathing was calm and controlled, the way it was supposed to be. Usually, meditation was her sanctuary—a place where her thoughts became clear water.
But today, the water was muddy.
Every time she tried to focus, a certain Princess invaded her mind. She saw Iyo's smile, heard her voice, and remembered the way Iyo looked at her.
Yuna opened her eyes, feeling frustrated and strangely restless.
"Tsk. It's not working."
Nearby, Bliss was sipping tea, watching her with the sharp, observant eyes of a former Draco Captain. She had noticed the lapse in concentration ten minutes ago.
"Is everything alright?" Bliss asked.
Yuna blinked, looking toward her. She wasn't one for lying, especially not about her own confusion.
"I'm not sure…" She paused, her gaze dropping. "I keep thinking about Princess Iyo."
Bliss almost smiled, but her professional mask held firm. Mostly.
"Ever since we returned… I keep wondering what she's doing," Yuna admitted, her voice hesitant. "If she's okay. If she's lonely."
She rested a hand against her chest, right over her heart.
"And whenever I remember her… this area starts feeling strange."
Bliss took a quiet sip of her tea. She knew exactly what "strange" meant.
"Yuna…" Bliss started, her voice softening. "Maybe you don't adore Princess Iyo only as a friend."
Yuna blinked, processing that.
"Maybe your feelings are becoming something more personal than that," Bliss added.
Silence.
"…Something more?"
Bliss nodded. Yuna fell quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing with a new worry.
"But… is that really okay?"
Bliss looked surprised for a heartbeat, then a soft laugh escaped her. It was a rare, genuine sound.
"Of course it is."
Bliss leaned her cheek against her palm, looking remarkably relaxed.
"I adore your mother in a very similar way."
The world seemed to stop. Yuna froze, her eyes wide.
Bliss realized what she'd just said a second too late.
"…That sounded less dangerous inside my head," Bliss muttered, her composure finally cracking.
Yuna just kept blinking. Behind a nearby window, Da-li quietly lowered her teacup, pretending with all her might that she hadn't heard a single word.
Bliss coughed awkwardly, trying to steer the ship back into safe waters.
"Dragonborn relationships are… different from humans. Opposite genders are not considered a serious requirement among our kind."
Yuna looked even more confused. Bliss looked at the child and decided that explaining the complexities of Draconian culture was a battle for another day.
"You'll naturally understand these things better as you grow older," Bliss said, reaching out to gently tap Yuna's forehead. "So for now—don't overthink it."
Yuna looked down. She was still confused and uncertain, but strangely, the weight in her chest felt a little lighter.
Back in the capital, the weight was only getting heavier.
Princess Iyo held another unfinished letter, the ink long dry.
"Maybe tomorrow…"
*Knock. Knock.*
A servant hurried into the chamber, bowing so low she nearly hit the floor. She looked terrified.
"Your Highness!"
Iyo straightened her posture. "What is it?"
"There is an urgent matter in the Royal Court. His Majesty is currently absent from the palace." The servant looked up, her eyes pleading. "As the Royal Heir… the court requests your presence."
Iyo's fingers tightened around the letter. She had all the education in the world, but she had never handled the court alone. Not for real.
Fear flared in her chest. But then, she remembered her father's composure. And then, she remembered Yuna.
Yuna, who spoke her mind even to a King. Yuna, who didn't know the meaning of fear.
Iyo took a breath and stood up.
"Prepare the court."
Her voice wavered slightly, but it held.
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The Royal Court was a cavern of silence.
Officials lined the walls like statues. Knights stood like iron pillars. At the center of it all, Princess Iyo walked toward the front. She was young, and she felt small, but she moved with a grace that surprised even the oldest ministers.
She didn't sit on her father's throne. Instead, she took the smaller seat reserved for the heir.
The court bowed in a single, sweeping wave.
"Please explain the matter before the court," Iyo said, her voice echoing in the hall.
An attendant stepped forward. "Your Highness. A dispute between two brothers has escalated severely. They seek judgment from the crown."
"Summon them."
Two men entered the chamber. They looked scruffy, their faces twisted with irritation. Behind them followed an elderly couple—their parents. Their clothes were simple, their backs bent from years of labor. Their hands were rough, worn, and scarred.
All four bowed.
"What is the dispute?" Iyo asked.
The older brother didn't even wait. "Your Highness—"
"We recently separated after marriage and now live independently!" the younger one interrupted.
"And we both wish to take responsibility for our mother!" the older one barked.
"But neither of us can properly care for our father!" the younger added.
The court began to murmur. The brothers started shouting over each other, a chaotic mess of "Mother should stay with me!" and "Why should I take Father!?"
Iyo watched them, then looked at the elderly couple. The mother was silent. The father kept his head down.
A sharp pain shot through Iyo's chest. She thought of her father. She thought of how much Yuna loved Da-li. Family was supposed to be a sanctuary, not a resource to be divided.
She looked at the parents' hands again. Those weren't the hands of people who had been cared for. Those were the hands of people who had been used.
Iyo's blood began to boil.
She raised a hand. Silence snapped back into place.
"Why do both of you specifically wish to keep your mother?" Iyo asked, her voice turning cold.
"Because I love her deeply!" the older brother cried.
"I care for her more!" the younger echoed.
The excuses kept coming. The more they talked, the more Iyo saw the truth. It was a disgusting, transparent lie.
Iyo stood up. Every official in the room followed suit instantly.
"Enough."
The brothers froze. Iyo stepped down from the platform, her eyes narrow and furious.
"The only reason both of you want your mother," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "is because you want a free housemaid."
The court gasped. The brothers turned pale.
"T-That is not true!"
"Your Highness misunderstands—"
"Silence!" Iyo roared.
The room went deathly still.
"I can see their hands," Iyo pointed at the couple. "They have spent their entire lives working without rest. But now your father can no longer perform heavy labor. Which is why neither of you want him."
Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with pure disappointment.
"Meanwhile, your mother can still cook. She can clean. She can raise your children and work inside your homes. You disguised your selfishness as 'love.'"
She didn't notice that the doors behind her had cracked open. King Joseph had returned, but he stood in the shadows, watching his daughter with silent intensity.
Iyo wasn't finished.
"For treating your parents like animals… both of you will be severely punished."
The brothers' faces lost all color.
"You will each receive one hundred public lashes."
"YOUR HIGHNESS, PLEASE!"
"MERCY!"
The brothers collapsed, wailing and crying for forgiveness. Iyo's expression didn't soften. To her, this wasn't just a dispute; it was a betrayal of the very idea of family.
Then, the old couple stepped forward. They fell to their knees.
"Please forgive our sons, Your Highness!" the mother begged.
"We beg for mercy…" the father whispered.
Iyo froze. Despite everything—the abandonment, the disrespect—the parents were still protecting their children.
Her chest hurt. She thought of Yuna again. Of unconditional love.
Iyo looked back at the brothers. Her voice dropped, becoming quiet but heavy.
"Look carefully at your parents. Even after the cruelty you showed them… they still stand before this court begging for your lives."
The brothers didn't cry from fear anymore. They cried from shame.
Iyo returned to her seat. The court waited.
"This court has made its decision," she announced. "Both brothers will provide fifty gold coins every month to their parents. That is one hundred gold coins monthly for their living expenses."
The brothers bowed their heads.
"Furthermore, the parents will not be separated. And if this court discovers either of you forcing them into harsh labor again…"
Her gaze sharpened.
"Your lands and homes will be confiscated by the crown. They will be auctioned. And every single coin earned will be given directly to your parents."
Silence. Then, one by one, the officials bowed. Not out of habit, but out of genuine respect.
Behind the doors, King Joseph smiled. His little girl had just taken her first step toward the throne.
Applause erupted. It was loud, genuine, and powerful.
Iyo blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected the court to cheer. Then, a familiar rhythm of clapping joined the noise.
*Clap. Clap. Clap.*
Iyo turned and froze. Her father was walking toward her, a proud smile on his face. He pulled her into a warm, safe hug.
"Iyo… today you exceeded far beyond my expectations."
Iyo's eyes shimmered. She was a Princess, yes, but she was still a daughter who craved her father's approval.
Then, she remembered Da-li's words.
*"Don't be sad, Princess. Keep growing, Keep learning. When the time is right… we will be taking you home."*
Iyo straightened her back. She looked her father in the eye.
"Father. From today onward, I wish to attend court regularly. I want to learn more about the kingdom. Politics, history, our people. I want to grow stronger and wiser."
Joseph's smile widened.
"Very well. Then from this day onward, I will personally teach you everything I know."
Iyo's eyes sparkled. Somewhere deep down, she made a promise. The next time she saw Yuna, she wouldn't be a sheltered Princess. She would be someone worthy of standing by her side.
That evening, the moonlight was cool and quiet.
Iyo sat in her chamber, but the atmosphere had shifted. There was no hesitation now. In front of her sat a finished letter, sealed with royal wax.
A faint blush touched her cheeks.
"…I hope she replies."
Moments later, a royal hawk soared into the night sky, carrying the letter far beyond the capital. Toward her dear Yuna.