In a 'modest but proud' kingdom known as Eldenwilde, nestled rolling hills and trade roads lined with cypress trees. The palace was alive with chatter and laughter. It was the king's seventieth birthday- a grand event that brought nobles from neighboring regions and excitement to every corridor.
In the eastwing of the palace, far away from the bustling ballroom, a goddess-like girl lay curled beneath silken sheets. She snored delicately, her black long curls cascading like dark water over plush pillows. The day before had been spent fussing over dresses, jewelry, and the perfect shoes- all for her father's birthday.
The heavy curtains swayed slightly as the chamber door creaked open.
"Time to wake up, my lady," came a familiar voice-warm, teasing and gentle.
It was Lia, her maid and lifelong companion. She padded across the room with practiced steps, then drew back the tall, embroidered drapes. The window groaned open beneath her hands, and sunlight spilled into the chamber, slicing through shadows and illuminating the girl's porcelain face.
Havynlee groaned softly, squinting as the light touched her eyes.
"Oh, Lia…." She mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. "Just two more minutes." Her eyes still closed.
"If I allow it, my lady, you'd miss your father's entire celebration," Lia teased gently.
The breeze carried in the scent of blooming jasmine from the gardens below. Lia moved towards the bed with a smile, watching as Havynlee - eyes still half-closed - pulled the covers closer like a cat resisting the morning.
Even drowsy, she looked unreal. Her beauty wasn't loud or ostentatious- it was the kind that made you forget what you were saying mid-sentence. The kind that made heads turn and hearts pause.
"Wake up, my lady, before I tickle you awake."
Havynlee groaned again, squinting up at the light. Her long, dark lashes fluttered over striking silver eyes - an impossible shade that shimmered like moonlight. As she sat up, her pale skin seemed almost to glow in soft morning rays. With her messy black curls falling over her shoulders, she looked like a ghost from an ancient tale - a forgotten goddess in silk.
Lia smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her mistress's cheek. "You are far too beautiful to hide beneath covers."
The maids always said she looked like a dream in the morning light.
But it wasn't just them.
To the people, she wasn't only a princess. She was their hope, their light, the queen of their hearts.
…..
Lia worked with gentle precision, adjusting the last golden pins in Havynlee's hair. Her long black curls had been twisted into an elegant updo - soft ringlets pinned high with jeweled combs, a few delicate tendrils left to frame her face. It was a royal style, the kind reserved for queens and daughters of kings - polished, regal and breathtaking.
Behind her, another maid tugged at the laces of the red corset dress, her fingers moving quickly through the tight loops.
"All right, your highness," the maid said with a small smile. "Deep breath in, please."
Havynlee obeyed, inhaling as much as she could, but even so, she winced when the corset cinched tight. The laces pulled her waist inward, shaping her silhouette into something impossibly delicate. She exhaled with a gasp and the maid paused.
"One more time," she coaxed gently. "Breathe in….and hold."
With practiced hands, the maid pulled again - firmer this time - drawing the bodice tighter until Havynlee's waist was snatched into perfect form. The soft mounds of her chest rose slightly, lifted and shaped by corset's design, framed beautifully by the sweetheart neckline of the crimson dress.
Her silver eyes shimmered beneath her thick lashes, slightly narrowed from the pressure on her ribs. Her cheeks were already flushed, lips naturally red like brushed rose petals. The high cheekbones, the strong brows, the flawless symmetry of her face - it was all too much.
Even the maids, as often as they saw her, had to pause.
She looked like something out of a painting. A flame wrapped in silk and secrets.
"Perfect," Lia whispered, stepping back to admire her.
As she turned to face the mirror, even Havynlee hesitated. The girl staring back looked like a statue carved from snow and fire-pale skin, silver eyes, and elegance that couldn't be learned.
Was this how her mother once looked?
A familiar ache bloomed quietly in her chest.
"No one in that ballroom will be able to look awa." Lia added.
…..
And what Lia said was the truth.
No one could look away.
As Havynlee stepped onto the grand staircase, the entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath.
Gasps rose like a quiet chorus, rippling through the gold-lit hall as all heads turned in unison.
Even those who had seen the princess before - who thought they had grown use to her beauty - found themselves staring, struck silent. Jaws slack. Eyes wide. Words forgotten.
She moves like a dream stitched from starlight and silk, the red of her corset gown glowing like flame against her skin.
Pale as snow, smooth as porcelain.
She looked almost unreal. Like a curse disguised as a blessing. Like a fairytale that could ruin you.
As all eyes followed Havynlee's descent, the room seemed to blur around her - a sea of gold and silk and hushed astonishment.
Even the king, standing tall at the heart of the ballroom, could barely breathe.
For a moment, he didn't see his daughter.
He saw her.
The woman he'd loved in secret.
The maid with the voice of a siren.
And the face of a dream.
Havynlee was the mirror of her mother - the same snow-pale skin, the same midnight curls, the same silver eyes that once haunted his sleep.
In the crowd, standing just to the side of the royal dais, queen Iridessa's smile froze beneath her jeweled veil.
Beside her, her daughter, princess Ivy gritted her teeth so hard her jaw twitched.
The attention, the whispers, the awe - all of it belonged to Havynlee.
If looks could kill, her stepsister would have been dead before her slippers touched the marble floor.
What was it about her? Sure, Ivy was beautiful - anyone would say so.
With her short wavy blonde hair, chestnut brown eyes, and rose-pink lips, she looked every bit the image of a polished royal. Her golden skin shimmered under the ballroom lights, her gown clinging just right in all the places that counted.
But she knew.
No matter how many diamonds draped around her neck…no matter how perfectly her smile was practiced…
She would never compare.
Not to her.
Havynlee didn't just enter the ballroom - she owned it. With skin like winter's first snow, silver eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing all at once, and a presence that felt both angelic and untouchable, she was BEAUTY IN ITS CRUELEST PUREST FORM.
Next to Havynlee, Ivy felt like a shadow - preety, yes ….. but forgettable.
And she despised her for it.