Lillian had made it a point to absolutely despise balls.  She supposed it was more of a cliché now to hate balls rather than love them – the thought of being one of those pathetic girls complaining about life as a royal being actually difficult made her shudder – but she made the point to detest them all the same. She detested them because Deidre had loved them – as such was the reasoning behind her hating most things. She remembered the hours spent listening to her older sister chatter on and on about who would be there, the lords and the ladies and the scandals that followed. The worst thing about it had been that she had had a knack for making these things actually sound [i]interesting[/i]. Lillian remembered hanging onto Deidre’s every word as she helped her with her hair, or pick out a dress, or as she helped her with any of the things older sisters were supposed to help with.

Lillian hated balls, or any other festivities for that matter, because even thinking about how excited they had made Deidre physically hurt her. Remembering the way her eyes would sparkle as they entered whichever ballroom it was felt like someone was stabbing her, and anything that reminded Lillian of the hushed conversations full of giggles and whispers that she had with her sister as they hid from some desperate lord knocked the air right out of her lungs.

So she sat, presently, refusing to smile as her family’s carriage rumbled along outside the Castle Drackhavan. There was no way on earth she would enjoy this – she would not let herself. Her left side, where Deidre had always sat, felt particularly cold tonight. Diedre would have been almost bursting with excitement by now, her leg bouncing and her lips moving at what seemed to be the speed of light. She would have brightened up the sombre mood of the carriage, and warmed the icy tension that felt like it was threatening to freeze them there forever. 

And their mother would be gazing at Deidre fondly, offering her own opinions on a few of the many lords and ladies her daughter would fire at them. Their father would share a look with Lillian with that amused glint in his eye and they would both laugh silently at Deidre’s utter, ridiculous, insatiable vibrance.

But now it was silent - bar the odd comment from the queen regarding the weather, or how many poor people she saw outside. Lillian’s father, the king of Naerin, was already embarrassingly drunk and half asleep in the seat across from her. She held back a sigh. This was going to be a [i]long[/i] night. 

[b]“The Gladinis boy is back, did you hear?” [/b]The king’s deep, slurred voice finally broke the silence, just as the carriage rumbled to a stop. Not asleep then, apparently.

[b]“What, the first-born?”[/b] The queen scoffed. [b]“A lost cause, that one. You know he left to be a sellsword? Could you imagine if Lillian had done that? Heaven forbid. You know, we were considering mentioning an alliance with Majorka. Thank goodness we didn’t. Far too many…strays. Personally, I never would have allowed such an agreement. Our Deidre deserved better, she - “[/b]

[color=DB7093][b][i]”Mother.[/i] That is [i]enough[/i].”[/b][/color]

Lillian would never normally speak to her mother in such a way, but she could not bear the concept of Deidre being married. Married and alive. The queen let out a small huff, but nonetheless sat back in her cushioned seat just as the carriage doors were opened. 

As always, the king stepped – no, stumbled – out first, followed by the queen and, finally, Lillian herself. She didn’t bother to smile – everyone who was anyone had figured out she was not smiling type by now and, hence, the nickname of the ‘ice princess’ had befallen her. Lillian merely surveyed her new surroundings, trying to ignore the fact that it had been many, many years since she had visited this kingdom last with her sister and they had – 

No. She ran a finger over the black ribbon of mourning wrapped around her wrist, half-hidden by the long sleeves of her dress. She would not allow herself to think of Diedre any longer. This night was going to be unbearable enough without images of her dead sister haunting her every move.

Her mother provided a welcome distraction.

[b]“That’s him, Lillian. Prince Renso Gladinis.” [/b]She murmured as she gripped her daughter’s arm and guided her forward to greet the man, just a step behind the king of Naerin. An almost-imperceptible squeeze from her mother sent Lillian a message loud and clear. [i]Behave.[/i]

Challenge accepted.

Lillian’s eyes took in the prince before them as her father boomed out a greeting, his slurred speech thankfully less apparent now that the fresh air had woken him up a little. So this was the man who had left his kingdom to become a sellsword. She had to admit – he was annoyingly handsome.  And there was a rugged charm about him that would not usually be seen anywhere in court. But she did not let her appreciation of his good looks show on her face as she reminded herself of his actions. To run away from his own family in favour of a life of [i]crime[/i]? The thought almost made her shudder.

[b]“…and of course, this is my beautiful daughter, Lillian. Hidden gem of Naerin, eh?” [/b]Lillian was gently pushed forward by her mother, a warm greeting and perhaps a ‘thank you’ for inviting them was expected from her. She briefly wondered what the prince would think of her. She had never been the most beautiful of the family, with her father's mahogany locks and high cheekbones. Her mother and sister had been stunning blondes with rosy cheeks and warm brown eyes - almost the polar opposite to the cool severity of Lillian's features. She supposed she should probably curtsey and blush daintily for the man just like her mother had always taught her.

Instead, she sniffed as she surveyed the Prince once more.

[color=DB7093][b]“It’s wonderful to see that you finally decided to run back home.” [/b][/color] She paused. [color=DB7093][b]“Your Highness.”[/b][/color]

She could feel her mother's grip on her arm tighten to the point of hurting, but paid no mind to it - instead, offering a small smile to this Renso. Her father laughed a little too loudly, shaking his head as if she had just said the funniest thing in the world.

[b]"Ah, she's a funny one, our Lil. You'll have to excuse her lack of manners."[/b] Lillian continued to gaze openly at the prince.
[b]"You might remember her sister, our beloved Deidre. A star, she was - blonde and lovely, just like her mother. Lillian's taken her passing a little hard, you understand?"[/b]

Lillian had to grit her teeth to stop herself from swiping at her father with an ugly retort. How dare he mention Deidre in another kingdom, around strangers. As if he didn't drown his sorrows every night in mourning for his lost favourite child. Pushing down her anger with a small smile, she inclined her head towards the prince.

[color=DB7093][b]"Of course. Forgive me and my rudeness, sir. I graciously thank you for your hospitality."[/b][/color]

Yeah, right.