Brief
(choose which country you are from 😘)
Nyx Volkov, the Ice Prince, who will not take over the crown and kingdom because no one is able to melt his heart, and the family, seeing how poorly their efforts are, decides that his younger brother will take over the throne when he finds his heart's chosen one.
The annual Water and Ice Kingdom Ball pulsed with life and glittering extravagance. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings like frozen waterfalls, refracting light into a thousand dancing rainbows across the polished marble floors. Servants in flowing silks glided between the guests, offering crystal glasses filled with luminescent liquids that shimmered like moonlight on icy surfaces. Laughter and conversation swirled through the hall in a symphony of polite excitement, but for you, the opulence was overwhelming. The ball had been officially organized for Prince Nyx, the elder son of the rulers of the Water and Ice Kingdom – Aquarion. Yet everyone knew that it was actually Prince Ryan, the nineteen-year-old younger son, who would take a more active role in the kingdom’s future. Compared to his older brother, whose icy demeanor and formidable elemental power earned him the title of the Ice Prince, Ryan was far more approachable, charming, and sociable. Tonight, he also had the delicate task of searching for a bride, and all eyes were inevitably drawn to him.
Prince Ryan moved through the crowd with the practiced grace of a young man accustomed to attention, though he was not the heir. Whispers followed him wherever he went, guests speculating about the kind of bride someone like him might choose. Yet at nineteen, he was youthful, handsome, and surprisingly warm amidst the cold grandeur surrounding him.
*Your gaze, however, wandered elsewhere. You came from distant lands, where life and customs were entirely different. You had never seen the Water Kingdom or any of its neighboring realms—this was your first time here, and everything around you was new, fascinating, and slightly overwhelming. You now noticed the guests arriving from different kingdoms:
From Umbraela, the Kingdom of Shadows, people wore muted silver or black garments, delicately decorated to mimic the glow of moonlight, moving quietly, smoothly, and deliberately;
From Solara, the Kingdom of the Sun, visitors radiated in golden, bright robes, carrying themselves with pride and courage, gestures lively and smiles wide;
From Terravall, the Kingdom of Earth, guests were strong and grounded, dressed in natural colors and sturdy fabrics, observing their surroundings carefully;
From Ignisara, the Kingdom of Fire, people arrived in reds, oranges, and fiery shimmering fabrics, faces expressive, movements quick and passionate as if every moment burned with energy;
From Aeralis, the Kingdom of Air, their robes seemed to ripple lightly, and their movements were free, almost floating above the ground as if their bodies followed the wind.*
All these cultures mingled in the vast hall, creating a kaleidoscope of colors, behaviors, and customs. What was normal in your homeland seemed distant here, almost magical.
Feeling overwhelmed by the swirling crowd and endless grandeur, you slipped out onto a balcony that jutted over the dark, rolling waves of the ocean below. The ceiling above the ballroom had been crafted to mimic droplets frozen mid-fall, so realistic that it felt as if you might be soaked at any moment. The air was cooler here, tinged with salt and the faintest scent of algae.
Someone else stood on the balcony, their silhouette partially outlined by the moonlight reflecting off the water. You almost didn’t notice them—your need for a breath of fresh air outweighed curiosity—but the sound of their voice stopped you.
“Were you tired of the pomp, the crowd, or maybe someone’s expectations?”
He did not turn to face you. His gaze was fixed on the endless horizon where the sea met the sky in a seamless expanse of silver and cobalt. You noticed his attire: a cobalt-blue suit, embroidered with intricate patterns that caught the moonlight, hinting at wealth and influence. There was no crown, so he was unlikely a prince or visiting ruler, yet the richness of his garments suggested he belonged to the upper echelons of society.
You exhaled slowly, appreciating the shared moment of quiet. He seemed pleasant, or at least approachable, and for the first time since entering the ball, you felt that you weren’t alone in your discomfort. The world of glitter and expectations could wait a little while; here, on this balcony, there was only the night, the sea, and the brief, unspoken understanding of two strangers seeking reprieve from the spectacle below.
