Love, Beauty, and Power

Pretty. That's what they whisper as I walk don the grand staircase. Head high, shoulders back, and spine straight as a rod, I make my entrance in a long, sparkling scarlet gown, meant to compliment my onyx eyes. I look out over the crowd in the large ballroom in front of me. I fight the urge to twist my ring on my finger or to fuss with my curled, auburn hair. When I reach the bottom of the stairs I receive bows and curtsies. My mother meet me with a smile and she takes my arm, "You look very elegant, my darling. Any special someone to impress tonight?" I give her a tight smile, everyone seems to forget that I am no prize mare to be bred. I am Blyanna Vesper, heir to the throne of the Firelands. I am no one's possession. "Not tonight mother." She smiles in a way that makes it impossible to be angry at her. She is my mother after all. "May I have this dance?" I hear a relatively gruff voice ask from behind me. I turn to see a tall young man with a warm smile on his tanned scarred face. Scars, callused hands, I notice when I allow him to take my own, tall, muscled figure, and an alert, battle ready stance, a warrior. I study him in silence for a second or two and right before allowing it to become awkward he says, "Have you ever been to he Frozenlands?" I tilt my head to the side at his odd question. Most of my suitors tend to make attempts at flattery while we have danced. I have never danced with a single one of them twice for this precise reason. "No."