~ 7 Years Ago ~
"Have you heard?" a nobleman asked, his tone hushed. "The third prince possesses an innate mana art."
"What?" one of three noblewomen gasped. "Aren't those rarer than some bloodline traits?"
An eight-year-old Wynn stood off to the side of the corridor, quiet and, as always, unnoticed.
She wasn't particularly interested in politics, but even if she had been, she wouldn't have risked it. Her sister, Lara, had made it more than clear what would happen if she started drawing attention to herself.
"I heard he underwent testing today," the man continued. "From the sound of it, it's a unique ability as well."
"The royals may be getting their revival at long last."
Wynn rolled her eyes.
They didn't believe that. No one believed that—not even herself.
Ever since the catastrophic loss of the former imperial capital, Delgarde, to a single man, Lindis' royal family's reputation had been in the mud. It didn't help that they hadn't even made a single attempt to reclaim the territory in the three hundred years since, instead bowing their heads in the presence of the man who still ruled it to this day.
Though hypocritically, no noble faction had ever pushed for such a motion themselves, restrained by the same fear that kept the royals at bay. Yet they still looked down on the crown.
Even at her young age, Wynn understood that people were unreasonable, and she didn't care.
That is, of course, unless their unreasonable behaviour disturbed her peace. The unfortunate reality was that, sooner or later, it inevitably would—whether she liked it or not.
Absentmindedly, she clicked the heel of her shoe against the wall.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
"Oh... it's the princess..." another noblewoman murmured, only just noticing her presence.
The four nobles exchanged awkward glances before leaning toward one another, speaking in hushed tones.
"She's unlikely to say or do anything, so we should be fine..."
"Yeah, it's the Winter Flower. She's so passive her parents often forgot about her during her first few years of life."
"We lucked out," the last woman whispered, nervously glancing at the child. "But we should still move away from here."
They shuffled away frantically, only the last of them giving a bow as she went. Wynn didn't care. It was just another pointless formality that was meant to show respect she knew they didn't have.
"What are you doing?"
The third princess jumped.
For a moment, her guard raised, immediately scanning the area for the presence of metal, but she quickly relaxed upon registering the face in front of her.
"It's just you," she muttered plainly. "Why are you here, Third Prince? I heard you had lessons after your tests today."
Cale frowned. "I did. It was all the same history about the once-great Navarra Empire, so I knew it already."
Wynn nodded.
Royal or not, they made sure to hammer that information into everyone's heads—probably in hopes of inspiring some grand ambition toward imperial restoration.
All it had ever inspired in Wynn was annoyance.
Especially since it was the one subject she wasn't allowed to skip.
"Why don't you become Queen?" Cale asked, eliciting an eyebrow raise. "If you really wanted to, you could. Since you've been training in secret and hiding your stre—"
She clamped a hand over his mouth, her gaze growing colder as she scanned for any lingering presences.
"...Have you been following me around?"
"Yes," Cale replied, removing the hand. He nodded as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Almost all the time, actually. It's very interesting."
The admission sent an uncomfortable feeling crawling up Wynn's spine for several reasons. The most immediate one being the fact that he had apparently managed to shadow her repeatedly without her noticing.
At six years old.
And with seemingly no difficulty.
"I'm not interested," she said dismissively, pushing the thoughts aside. "If you want to be king, try your luck. I won't challenge you."
A glint formed in Cale's pink irises.
It seemed wrong in the eyes of a child.
"Is that a promise?" he asked.
The shift gave the princess pause, but she shrugged it off. Just like every other sibling who had approached her to gauge her position, she would tell him what he wanted to hear and move on.
"Take it that way if you want."
The unsettling intensity disappeared as abruptly as it had come, the boy slipping back into his more childlike demeanour.
Remaining true to her philosophy, Wynn decided it wasn't her business, so she didn't care.
Turning to leave without another word, a question crossed her mind.
"Is it true that you have a unique mana art?" she asked, not even bothering to face him.
"Hm? Yeah, it is."
"Good for you."
She took a step, then froze again, an older girl with white hair just like hers and pink eyes flashing through her mind.
Wynn sighed, looking over her shoulder.
"Keep your head down. If you want to survive, don't do anything to draw attention to yourself—least of all from our sister."
Without waiting for a response, she walked away.
---
~ Later That Night ~
King Fros Lu Lindel had long since ordered all of his children to have dinner together each evening unless they happened to be away from the capital.
Wynn believed it was meant to lower tensions between them.
It had failed miserably.
If anything, it had only made matters worse after Tristan exiled herself following the incident, yet the order remained in place regardless.
'The first and second princes are away at Mycarth,' Wynn mused dryly. 'How fortunate...'
Her eyes drifted up to the girl sitting across from her.
Lara Lu Lindel.
The Demon of Persica.
A title earned from when she personally cut out the tongues of several noble girls at a tea party for daring to insult the royal family.
In political circles across Lindis, there was at least one shared consensus:
She was insane.
And the kingdom would be worse off if she ever became queen.
Lara carried herself with effortless elegance, posture perfect, smile composed. The kind of smile that suggested she was always slightly amused by something no one else could see.
Wynn kept her expression neutral, hands folded neatly as she waited for her food.
Cale, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.
An unnecessary number of servants finally filtered into the dining hall, setting down each royal child's personally tailored meal before retreating to the walls.
The third prince and the second princess began eating immediately, movements refined through years of etiquette training, but Wynn stalled.
She eyed the silver cutlery, a glance darting to her sister before starting on her dinner.
"You've been moving more frequently lately," Lara said lightly, eyes never leaving her plate. "I've heard whispers. People in the castle have a habit of exaggerating things, but even so…"
Her gaze lifted slightly.
"…you seem busy."
Wynn didn't look up. "Nothing of importance."
"That's a shame," Lara replied softly. "I was hoping you had finally developed an interest in something that suited you."
The servants shifted uncomfortably as the two sisters seemingly measured each other silently.
"I'm sure I'll find it when the time is right," Wynn said at last.
"Hmm?" Lara's smile tilted ever so slightly. "That lax approach is unsuited for royalty. If you need support, simply ask."
A faint glint sparked in her blue eyes.
"That's what sisters are for."
The air between them tightened, but neither acknowledged it.
Cale continued eating, as if ignoring the conversation entirely.
"You haven't been attending as many events lately," Wynn said dryly.
"I've begun growing bored of them."
"I'm sure... since the kind of entertainment you enjoy isn't commonplace at an average ball... or tea party."
Another brief silence held as they stared at each other, food long forgotten.
Lara's smile softened.
"…You're becoming more direct."
"Am I?" Wynn replied evenly. "I hadn't noticed."
"How are you, Cale?" Lara pivoted, smiling.
The shift was subtle, but immediate as Cale stopped eating.
"He's fine," Wynn answered. "Like he's always been."
"You're answering for him?" Lara's voice remained gentle. "I'm sure he has a voice."
The third princess leaned back, the faintest crease forming between her brows.
"You answered for me when I was younger," she said coolly. "And if my memory serves me, so did Tristan for you."
The temperature in the room dropped.
All traces of pretentious warmth left Lara's face as her expression hardened. She flicked her black hair away and leaned back, slowly lowering her utensil.
"...What did I say about bringing up that name in my presence?"
Faint black wisps of mana trailed off her body, making the servants feel ill and lightheaded, some visibly unsteady on their feet.
Just as she was about to speak again, a man stationed near the wall behind her stumbled, his knees giving out as he let the serving tray he held fall to the floor with a loud, ringing impact.
A simple mishap.
But the timing was catastrophic.
Lara's gaze moved first, and the servant froze, understanding what had just happened.
"I see," Lara said quietly.
A lance of ice instantly burst into existence, piercing the servant in his shoulder.
The dark-haired princess clicked her tongue in mild annoyance.
"Everything seems intent on irritating me today," she muttered, rising from her seat and walking toward the man struggling to suppress his screams. "I missed."
She stared down at him blankly.
"Why did I miss?"
She didn't give the servant time to answer as her leg snapped toward his face, but—
"Enough," Cale said.
The word cut through the room with a kind of authority that shocked everyone.
Lara's eyes shifted to him, lingering on his hand obstructing her foot.
"...What's this?" she asked, slowly drawing her leg back and shifting her weight. "Is he your personal aide or something?"
Wynn's gaze darted between them, muscles tensing instinctively in anticipation of a dangerous escalation.
'What is he doing?' she questioned, slightly panicked. 'This is normal for her... all he had to do was let her get it out of her system.'
The ice dispersed, and the man collapsed fully onto the floor on his stomach, trembling.
Cale didn't look at him, his stare remaining fixed on Lara.
The second princess studied him for a long moment, seemingly faltering after taking in his features for too long.
"I understand your displeasure, but the situation did not necessitate such an escalation," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I deeply respect your position, Sister, and it's precisely due to that respect that I believe such actions diminish your high standing undeservingly."
Both princesses blinked.
Then Lara laughed.
"You're quite the talker," she said, completely relaxing. "If I had known, I would've invited you for a chat earlier."
"You honour me, dear Sister," he replied with a bow, though his jaw discreetly clenched.
Lara's eyes narrowed before she extravagantly spun away.
"I suppose I'll let it go this time," she said lazily.
The pressure in the room loosened.
"I'll withdraw for the night," she added, gesturing for her young, blue-haired attendant. "It was a fun time, little brother, little sister. Until next time."
And then she was gone.
As soon as she left, a collective exhale filled the space.
The servant broke down immediately, clutching at Cale's robe in gratitude, sobbing as he thanked him repeatedly while the prince calmly assured him it was fine.
"...What were you thinking?"
He turned to Wynn, who glared at him.
"If you hadn't smooth-talked your way out of it," she continued, her tone sharp. "That would have been it for you... What in the world were you thinking?"
Cale's face twisted in confusion as if she had asked a question with such an obvious answer, then he smiled.
"A king wouldn't turn a blind eye to the suffering of his people."
---
~ Present Day ~
Wynn stood bloodied, the sleazy blond she had taken note of earlier now towering over her.
"Oi, are you serious?" he asked, scowling. "You came in with all that pompous bullshit, and this is all you've got?"
Sand scattered across the floor from their earlier exchange. With each irritated syllable, it trembled and began to rise, as if eager to answer on his behalf—itching to lash out.
"Dirdric," Fargus called calmly.
The blond spat to the side and stepped back with clear annoyance.
"Now, as you can see," the Don said. "We're not pushovers you can order around as you please. Let's restart the negotiations properly."
Five pairs of eyes illuminated in power leered down at the princess, promising untold amounts of pain if she continued as she had been thus far.