Non-known

The heavy oak doors of the grand hall groaned as they swung inward, revealing the silhouette of the gards bringing in a young girl that was found on the kings roas lost. the torchlight of the corridor. As she stepped onto the polished obsidian floor, a collective hush fell over the gathered nobility of Onyx-Reach. ​She moved with a quiet, lethal confidence that belied her age unknow. Dut look enough that the underworld inhales with sin. Her gown, a masterwork of emerald silk and intricate gold filigree, clung to her hourglass frame—a silhouette defined by her striking B-22 W-15 H-27 Cup Sizes D's measurements. Hight with 3in heals 5f 5in. The deep green fabric shimmered like dragon scales under the high chandeliers, trailing behind her in a regal sweep. Her long, lavender hair fell in soft waves down her back, left loose and unadorned, for she wore no crown—only the natural majesty of her own presence.

​"Look at her lips," a Countess whispered behind a lace fan, "that ruby-red is almost scandalous for a first introduction."

​"It’s not just the lips," a Baron replied, leaning in. "Look at how she carries herself. She walks as if the throne already belongs to her. Did they day she has no memories at all till a few hours ago. When she eas found walking in the dark woods."

​At the far end of the hall, King Valerius sat motionless. His ruddy-red and black hair caught the light as he leaned his head on a closed fist, his muscular frame draped in royal blue and gold. His eyes, sharp and predatory, tracked her every movement. Internally, his thoughts were a storm of sudden interest. He had expected a nervous girl, but this woman held his gaze with a terrifying composure. He felt a rare jolt of adrenaline; the air in the room seemed to thin as she approached.

​When she reached the base the gards hold the girl to her kness in fourt of the king. Forcing her to sank into a low, deep curtsy. Till her botton on her dant heels. The movement was fluid, the gold embroidery on her skirt catching the light as she bowed her head.

​The King did not immediately speak. He simply watched the way the light danced on her lavender hair and the curve of her shoulders. The court held its breath. The only sound was the faint crackle of the hearths and the distant ring of a knight’s armor shifting in the shadows.

​"She is stunning," a young squire murmured, earning a sharp look from his superior. "She looks less like a debutante and more like a legend in the making."

​Valerius finally shifted, his heavy rings clacking against the stone armrest. A slow, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He wasn't just looking at a subject; he was looking at the first thing in years that truly intrigued him.