The night of the royal banquet had arrived, casting a grand glow across Downtown Zodiac. The opulence of the capital was almost overwhelming; golden chandeliers glittered above marble floors, and the walls were draped in rich fabrics, each representing the distinct districts. Despite the sparkling surroundings, Seventeen—or rather, Serena—moved through the crowd with grace, her bright smile a beacon amidst the sea of nobles. Her heart beat steadily, in perfect rhythm with the game she played.
The six were here tonight, scattered across the ballroom. Her eyes flicked over each of them briefly, noting their positions, their expressions, their interactions with others. They had no idea. No one did. They couldn't see past the carefully constructed mask of the bubbly, extroverted healer, the girl who claimed to be 25, full of life, and eager to help anyone who asked. Serena's laugh rang out as she shared a light joke with one of the visiting diplomats, but beneath her laughter, Seventeen's thoughts twisted with calculation.
Draco de Lavissaye stood near the far corner, engaged in what appeared to be a stiff conversation with his mother, Astraea. His posture was rigid, his jaw tight. Seventeen had learned to recognize the small tells in his body language. He was fighting the inner turmoil of duty and resentment—resentment towards his family, their control over him and something else, something she couldn't quite put a finger on it, yet. Draco would be the hardest to manipulate. He was cautious, guarded, his aura one of power but also distrust. She needed more time to crack him, but she'd get there.
And Seventeen couldn't help but notice how Draco had taken most of his looks from his mother, except the pale skin, the towering height, and the ice blue, the three were his biological inheritance from his father Jove, undoubtedly. They were beautiful people, she had to give them that, as beautiful as they were rotten inside. Just looking at the leaders of Whiteland made Seventeen's inside revolt, they nauseated her, they were the enemy, all she was doing was to be able to go against them in the future.
They had been two of the culprits in her six younger siblings' murder. It was something she would never be able to forget. She remembered all of those who were present in that broadcast, all the rulers who stood there, three districts were missing, only nine were present in the group slaughter.
Regulus and Seraphina Villareal of Leo, Jove and Astraea de Lavissaye of Libra, Thorne and Vesper Valiant of Aries, Artemis and Freya Hart of Sagittarius, Valen and Lyra Saint-Montclaire of Capricorn, Thalia and Markus Wysdomleaf of Virgo, Briar and Jules Terranova of Taurus, Kieran and Nora Novak of Aquarius, Selene and Dorian Wraithborne of Cancer.
She remembered all of their faces, except for Hunter and Amelia who were biologically adopted by their respective parents, the other four were true born heirs of their parents, there was no DNA test needed, it showed right on their physical traits. Claus was a spitting image of his father, Draco took after both his mother and father which ended up making him also look slightly like Claus' mother because they are sisters, Light took after both her parents, and Sablina took after her mother.
It was something that brought pain to her, to look at them and see them as they are. To remind herself who they their parents are, everytime her eyes locks on them. The memories resurfacing, she had barely mourned, she lost them at 19, she was still 21, turning 22 soon, it hadn't been that long. That wound was still open.
The only rulers who weren't present in the brutal broadcasted slaughter were Gwyn Vaughn and Zane Doom of Gemini, Caelum and Nyx Nightshade of Scorpio, Arion and Elysia Nocturne of Pisces. That part of her that she doing her best to keep hidden, felt glad about it, felt hope. But hope was dangerous thing, especially in the life of a forsaken kid of Ophiucus who had to carry so much weight on her back from a tender age. She didn't like to feel it, she never did, it made it all hurt worse.
Despite avoiding to even ponder about it, she was profoundly glad that the representatives of the Gemini and Scorpio districts weren't present at the moment. She wouldn't be there if they were around.
Her gaze slid away before lingering too long on Draco. There was a balance to maintain—too much attention, and suspicion would rise.
Claus Villareal, in contrast, was the easiest to handle. Already smitten, his flirtatious glances in her direction came as regularly as the clock ticking in the hall. He seemed to be handling the pressures of being the crowned prince well, but behind his charm and confidence lay an insecurity she could exploit. He wanted to be seen, to be admired—traits Seventeen could use to her advantage. He could be wrapped around her finger soon enough, especially if she dangled just the right amount of affection before him.
Across the room, Light Valiant stood near one of the massive windows, the firelight reflecting off her strawberry blonde hair, leaning more towards orange than anything else. Light was strong, independent, but her emotions were raw and simmering just beneath the surface. Seventeen had watched her closely; Light yearned for approval, especially from her father, Thorne. That desire for validation made her vulnerable. Playing into Light's need to feel appreciated could secure her as an ally—or a pawn.
Amelia Saint-Montclaire and Sablina Wysdomleaf were a pair that fascinated Seventeen. Their tension was palpable, a constant current of unspoken feelings running between them. Amelia's sharp wit and cold demeanor masked a deep longing for something she didn't allow herself to feel. Sablina, though quieter and more thoughtful, was observant. She might see through Seventeen quicker than the others, but her emotions—especially those tied to Amelia—would complicate her judgment. Seventeen would need to tread carefully with those two.
Finally, there was Hunter Hart, who stood by the bar, his broad shoulders relaxed as he engaged in casual conversation with a group of younger nobles. Hunter was a paradox—a man of adventure and confidence, but also loyalty. His weakness would be his friends, Amelia in special. If she could convince him that this mission, this prophecy, was the best way to protect them, he would follow her lead without question.
Seventeen weaved through the crowd, her bright smile firmly in place as she approached the balcony overlooking the grand ballroom. She needed air—an excuse, really, to step away and plan her next move. The party was a game, and every conversation, every glance, every laugh was part of the manipulation. But like any game, it needed strategy and patience.
As she stepped outside, the cool night air greeted her. Stars dotted the sky above the Zodiac Archipelago, and the view of the city from this height was breathtaking. It almost made her believe in peace, in the harmony these people claimed to uphold. Almost.
But Seventeen had long since stopped believing in such things. Peace was a lie the powerful told to keep the weak in line. She would know—she had been on both sides of that equation. Her siblings' faces flashed in her mind, the memory of their deaths twisting her insides with familiar pain. Her smile faltered, just for a second, before she forced it back into place.
Behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps. She turned, her mask of Serena firmly back in place, only to see Claus approaching, his signature grin in full display.
"Serena," he greeted, his voice smooth as ever. "I was hoping to steal a moment with you. It seems everyone wants your attention tonight."
Seventeen laughed, a light, airy sound. "A healer's work is never done, even at a banquet," she teased, though the sarcasm in her mind was biting. Yes, let's pretend I'm here to heal wounds, Claus. As if I'm not already twisting your strings.
Claus chuckled, taking her hand in his. "You're a mystery, you know. Beautiful, talented, but so… secretive."
She feigned a bashful smile, pulling her hand back gently. "Oh, Claus. There's no mystery to me. I'm just here to do my job. It's your world that's full of secrets."
His eyes sparkled with intrigue, and Seventeen knew she had hooked him. She allowed him a playful smile before turning to gaze back out at the stars.
"I hear there's more to this prophecy than we're being told," she said softly, as if confiding a secret.
"You know about the prophecy?" There was a careful and confused note in his voice.
"Yes," she met his eyes for a brief moment, "everyone who's visited the black market at least once, knows about it. It's just common knowledge your people want to keep a secret about it. But I trust you enough to let you know that I am aware of it," she threw the bait, knowing it would work on him. ["He's not Draco, he can't see through my bullshit."]
"That makes me glad. I didn't know it was out in the black market, I've never been in it. I don't even know how to get there. It amuses me that you know, you look so... pure and pristine."
["He is the most clueless of all heirs."] "So do you agree that there's more to it?"
Claus stepped closer, his voice lowering. "I do. You've heard right. I believe we're all part of something much bigger than anyone's letting on. I think our parents didn't tell us the full thing, that they are hiding it from us."
["Oh, Claus. You have no idea."]
Seventeen nodded thoughtfully, pretending to be engrossed in his words. "I've sensed that too," she murmured. "But maybe… maybe we're meant to figure it out together."
His eyes lit up, and Seventeen knew she had him. Claus was eager for answers, for leadership in this madness. And she would provide just enough to keep him tied to her cause—without ever revealing her own.
As they talked, Seventeen felt the weight of the night settling around her. Her plan was in motion, her web slowly entangling each of the six. But the road ahead was long, and each step had to be taken with care. The facade of Serena, the kind, bubbly healer, had to remain flawless. For now.
But Seventeen's true self—the cold, calculating survivor—watched from beneath the surface, always waiting, always prepared to strike.
Draco, however, still lingered in her mind, the one loose thread in her otherwise perfect web. He would be her greatest challenge, the one whose trust might take the longest to gain. But Seventeen thrived on challenges.
And when the time came, he too would fall in line. They all would.
With a final, soft laugh, she bid Claus goodnight and slipped away into the shadows of the night. The dance of manipulation had only just begun, and Seventeen was already leading the steps.
She just needed them to keep following.