The towering gates of the castle loomed before us, their imposing height casting long shadows across the courtyard. The chill of the late afternoon air cut through the silence, bringing with it the cold, stern reality of home.
My royal gown, made of rich burgundy velvet, shimmered faintly in the fading light. The soft fabric clung to my form, embroidered with delicate golden threads that wound across the bodice like vines, a symbol of my lineage and the weight I bore as heir to this domain.
My pink hair, once a playful symbol of rebellion in my youth, now seemed to clash with the gravity of the woman I had become.
Theo walked beside me, his presence calm but charged with a quiet intensity. His greyish-silvery hair framed his face in a way that made him look older, more resolute, than the boyish charm he usually carried.
