BOLT FROM THE BLUE lits

Tonight, Castle Cieliso hosts a grand event for the 16th birthday of its princess. The main hall within the castle is lined with a brilliant array of small, spherical lights. One section of the area is lined with round tables, each covered neatly with a white tablecloth. The rest of the hall is completely open, save for a few concessions side-tables here and there. Every decoration in the space was detailed with scrolling curves of pale gold.

Young Lord Saffron Infiaco, secondborn son of the House Infiaco, takes a deep breath as he analyzes his surroundings. Countless nobles are mingling with one another, all in their own worlds. A little small talk is no challenge for him, and he’s confident he can represent his House well. It is important that he paints a fine image of himself and his family - he is attending the Princess of Cieliso’s 16th birthday, after all.

He fits right in with the setting with a rather ornate outfit. A thick, dark red blazer is layered over a button-up shirt, embroidered with a complex diamond pattern characteristic of House Infiaco. His pants, albeit a hair too long, are a spotless black. The golden tips of his shoes softly reflect the lights above, and they click with each step he takes. The crisp collar of his shirt has a pair of vine-like pins fastened to each side. A thin ribbon, the same dark red as his blazer, is tied around his neck and tucked beneath his collar.

Just beyond the sea of aristocrats, Saffron spots the peak of a familiar crown. With haste, he advances just close enough to confirm his intuition - yes, Princess Araceli of Cieliso has made her way to this very side of the hall. He clears his throat and prepares to approach and greet her, but his feet oddly remain planted against the smooth floor beneath him. He’s not nervous…is he? No, he couldn’t be. This isn’t stage fright, he’s been to countless larger events such as this. It certainly isn’t imposter syndrome, either. Saffron considers for a moment if this has anything to do with his burning feelings for the pri- no, well, maybe, but some paltry affections shouldn’t stop him from initiating a brief exchange.

Though, it has been some years since he had first met Princess Araceli, hasn’t it? Perhaps now is a better time than any to confide in his feelings with her - after all, they are quite compatible! Both are nobles who greatly value knowledge, and their wedding would bring great prosperity to their respective nations. 

For a moment, Saffron ponders on how to raise such a topic. Obviously, he would start by wishing the princess a Happy Birthday, and present a gift…which he does not currently possess. He curses to the Golden Infernos - his older brother had already presented House Infiaco’s gift upon arrival on behalf of the family. That scoundrel, likely only here to court the other guests, a true disgrace to the noble House. In the middle of his silent frustration, Saffron recalls the princess’ interest in fictional novels. A new idea shines upon him like spark to kindling: he will simply charm the princess with a romantic display of his own fire aspect.

Suddenly, a burst of courage blazes within him. Saffron strides towards Princess Araceli, who seems to be occupied with another conversation. As he gets closer, more of her becomes visible to him. Her dress is loose and flowing, a few inches at the end dragging behind her as she shuffled across the hall. It was a pale yellow in color, with subtle golden flecks decorating the fabric. Thin, translucent sleeves ran down each arm, and a veil of similar material rested over her long hair, braided neatly for the occasion.

The princess turned as Saffron drew near, waving at him with a gentle, gloved hand. Saffron bowed in return.

“I know that my brother had already spoken on behalf of House Infiaco, but I wanted to personally wish you, Princess Araceli, a Happy Birthday.” 

He held his hand out as if to offer it to Princess Araceli, but she did not accept the proposal. Saffron tucks his hand away behind his back. Ouch. However, she did flash a warm smile, which soothed some of the sting.

“I appreciate your greeting. I hope that you have found joy in tonight’s celebration. I know that South Pyrus can be quite particular about what constitutes a ‘true’ festivity.” She lets out a short giggle. “Though, I suppose your family has been attending all of our events, so perhaps we are doing something right?”

Saffron warmly blinks in response. He was not expecting the conversation to be going so smoothly. His nerves haven’t totally left him, though, and he struggles with how to continue the conversation.

“Well, of course! The magnificent Cielisono Kingdom should have little trouble meeting such excellence. In fact, there are many details here that I am quite fond of - we may take note for our own arrangements.”

“Is that so? Well, feel free to take as many notes as you’d like, Young Lord Saffron. Do let an attendant know if something isn’t to your standard, yes?”

And with that, the princess waves goodbye. Just before she turns away, however, Saffron calls out to her.

“Princess, I have something important that I would like to express to you.”

He holds a closed fist out in front of him, taking a deep breath. Princess Araceli watches with quiet patience. Small spirals of yellow flame begin to sprout from between his fingers, teasing a fiery spectacle. Just as he begins to open his palm, someone’s voice pierces the air.

“Oh! Princess, there you are, haha! I was looking for you!”

A woman with short, tousled hair jogs up to the princess and places a gentle hand upon her arm. One look at the smooth cuffs around her wrists confirmed her identity to Saffron - this was the princess’ personal escort. Ragen, was it? Her choice of clothing was simple, likely aiming for practicality over class: a simple buttoned blouse with flared sleeves tied just before the wrists, somewhat similar in color to the princess’ dress, and cropped white pants. It didn’t take more than a glance to notice faded stains in the fabric near the pockets. Saffron holds back from clicking his tongue.

Princess Araceli flushes slightly, startled by the sudden interruption. “I’m sorry, Raiden. I suppose the festivities got the better of me.”

“That’s okay, you’re probably just excited. Anyway, some Umisuan council members just got here, so let’s go say ‘hi.’ Alright?” And just like that, Raiden takes Princess Araceli’s gloved hand and they disappear into the crowd.

Saffron, having listened to the exchange in utter silence, releases a sharp exhale. It’s disappointing, but he shakes it off with little delay. His chance may have been missed, but maybe another opportunity to speak with the princess will rise again soon. Until then, he shifts his attention towards the event itself, sweeping away the remaining chagrin through small talk with the other attendees.