3 Hopeless Thinking

The tailors made quick work of Tempest, tape measures wrapping around a new limb every few seconds and pencils scrabbling away at sketchpads to determine the absolute perfect dimensions for the gown and the occasion it was symbolic of. Lace here, satin there, silk draped around this portion--the tailors were hasty, to put it bluntly, but still carried an air of elegance and precision. Luckily for her, as the Crown Princess Tempest had specifically instructed at the beginning of her mock reign that she would not have any male tailors to gaze upon her pure form, so only female voices could be heard around her. Panicked, commanding female voices. Of course she didn't discriminate whatsoever, but it was simply because the thought of being constantly gazed upon and studied by men made her understandably uncomfortable.

In her budding days, every now and then a tailor would discreetly ask her to spare some magic in the creation of one of her signature, one-of-a-kind Crystal Ice Wings that they could study. She would reluctantly oblige, but the tailor would soon "forget" and ask her to do so again. She was lucky that had stopped, as Tempest now felt more and more drained of her power as her strenuous schedule stretched beyond boundaries.

As an ice fairy, she felt like she could melt any second from the heat of it all, the working bodies crammed into the tailoring chamber around her combined with the stress of having to stay still in a T-pose all the time. She blinked as a mirror was pushed in front of her, and only just realized the heaviness of the fabric she was draped in. The gown was finished. Before her, she saw her light blonde hair cascading in unnatural waves down her chest, her lips stained a vivid rouge and her stone blue eyes smoky around the edges as per usual. However she was dressed in a new gown, specifically crafted for tomorrow's Magica Ball, which was the one her betrothed would also be attending.

She thought it was beautiful. It was strapless with a flared skirt of a Prussian blue hue, the bodice studded with countless gemstones in an ornate pattern around the rim and waist, the back reaching low as was common in this era. A sheet of silk draped around the left quarter of the skirt, lush and rippling, stealing all of the attention.

It was one of her mother's old gowns and in fact, she thought it was so beautiful that she closed her eyes and let icy bursts of magic spew from her shoulder blades, forming her Crystal Ice Wings. She opened her eyes and smiled at the sight of the chunks of quartz and beads of diamond frost framing her ballgown.

Tempest was indeed a princess.

* * *

"Hello, Princess."

Devin let his lips graze her hand in a courtesy. But unexpectedly, he looked up to see Violet sporting a handsome smirk.

"What's so funny? I-isn't that what I'm supposed to do?! It's a Court meeting--"

The younger princess rolled her eyes and laid a hand on her hip, drawing her hand away. "I heard the way you murmured my title, Romeo. Don't think I feel the same way about you," she remarked, then pranced off in her own raspberry colored getup.

And he was left in the dust, puzzled and blushing somewhat profusely. Princess Violet was definitely a strange character. Perhaps that was why she evidently didn't have many friends, unlike her older sister.

Besides, he was in no way attracted to that anti-social mess.

The electric chime rang, signifying the arrival of Tempest and her parents, and Lord Devin strolled over to his own family's seating arrangement, shooting a playful glare at his younger sister, who had a knack for eavesdropping. He straightened up, not wanting to appear too incompetent.

Tempest entered first, admittedly dazzling him with her grace and beauty, her ballgown only just skimming the velvet flooring. She curtsied, her ruby lips parting to uncover pearl-white teeth that were only a half-shade lighter than her skin, then sat at the table reserved for the Royal Family. Devin, admittedly, didn't really pay attention to Queen Astrid and King Luke when it came to these things, but rather was always swept up by fantasies of Tempest, divine and regal, the picture-perfect royal who surely would never do anything wrong. He always tried to look his best whenever she was around him--and tried his best to have his thoughts in line as well--but as a simple lord of the Court, he really wasn't significant at all. He even wondered if Tempest knew who he was, or if he was too dense to notice such a thing.

All in all, he was most certainly attracted to her.

And that could possibly be his downfall, but he didn't seem to mind.