Ian Kabra's fingertips performed an absentminded dance atop the marble banister in a subtle display of his anxiety. The young man's handsome features were arranged in disdain as he observed the gaggle of unwelcome guests in his home. He had realized as a child that aristocracy did not imply tolerability, although he didn't think that peasants had the capacity to be any more tolerable. At this very moment, he couldn't decide what was worse: the thrum of inauthentic conversation or the sickly sweet sounding music to which many of the guests were dancing. In the end he decided that they were mutually unbearable.

"Ian!"

Ian's broad shoulders slumped at the familiarly shrill call of his name, and he slowly turned to face his sister, raising his eyebrows at her in response.

Dark hair swept over one shoulder, she clutched her heavy violet skirts, pretty face in a scowl. "Why aren't you downstairs speaking with the guests? Can you stop being a hermit for once and be grateful for what mother and father are doing for you? It's your birthday for Luke's sake!"

"My apologies, dear sister, you're right: kissing up to strangers really makes me appreciate the sixteen years I've spent kissing up to strangers," Ian slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark suit, rolling his eyes.

Natalie groaned, rolling her own as she looped an arm through his. "You will enjoy this party if it's the last thing you do, Ian, everyone is here to wish you well and you mustn't appear ungrateful!" The thirteen year old yanked him down the flight of stairs with surprising strength and agility for a petite girl in a corset.

"Fucking hell, Natalie, I don't want to spend my evening thanking so called well wishers for insincere gifts and wishes! I don't give two shits about who they are and what piece of land they own," Ian hissed, trying to pull away from his sister.

Natalie smacked him on the arm, before giving him a deadly glare. "Ian, I swear, if the Lords and Ladies of the Lucian Kingdom decide to usurp mother and father because you decided to be an idiot and not greet them on your birthday, then I will make you regret living till sixteen."

Ian rubbed the stinging spot on his arm as he descended the staircase whispering a colorful string of curses under his breath.

"I'm so pleased you could make it, Duchess!"

"Yes, I have to agree with you, my Lord, we must enforce policies to encourage trade with the other kingdoms."

"Let me get you another drink, sir, your cup is empty!"

And so Ian participated in the farce that was high society, and he saw his mother and father do the same, faking laughter as they spoke with another faceless aristocrat.

As the crowd grew increasingly intoxicated, Ian slipped away, wandering past the guests to the curtained french doors that concealed a spacious balcony. Leaning on the gold leaf railing he exhaled, feeling slightly more at ease as the breeze ran through his dark curls.

His amber gaze settled on the moon, which loomed ominously over the lake that enclosed the palace. He began to lose himself in his thoughts when he heard a clumsy shuffle of steps and the doors click behind him.

"Oof!" he heard a soft grunt before he looked over his shoulder to see a wide eyed young woman.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know there was anyone else here," she murmured, rubbing her bare elbow.

Ian studied her for a moment, drinking in the sight of this stranger, auburn tresses framing her perplexingly beautiful face, with golden silk clinging to her slender frame. She looked up to meet his gaze, piercing jade eyes behind a haze of dark lashes, crimson staining her cheeks.

Ian released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "That's alright," he said, "there's plenty of room on the balcony for both of us."

She paused before planting herself on the edge of the railing, as far away from him as possible. She silently observed the night as he silently observed her, curiosity overtaking his senses.

"I am Ian Kabra, Prince of the Lucian Kingdom, may I ask who you are?" He said, cocking his head to the side, flashing his teeth in a dashing half smile.

She didn't seem fazed, but nodded politely in response. "Amy Cahill, P-p-princess of the Madrigal Kingdom," she lowered herself in a curtsy, before stumbling and almost tripping on her own feet. Steadying herself with the banister she offered him a sheepish smile, "happy birthday, I g-guess."

Ian smiled. And not one of the fake, dazzling smiles he used to charm guests or girls he intended to bed, but a real smile, from a place of genuine appreciation. She had a stutter, how charming.

"Thank you, Princess," he bowed, before sliding closer to her, so they were almost shoulder to shoulder. "So what brings you here?"

"To the party or to the b-balcony?" She asked almost teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

"Both," he chuckled. The night had taken an unexpectedly pleasant turn.

"Well, as princess of a n-n-neighboring kingdom I suppose I must be here to wish you well," she shrugged, as he laughed, "and I do wish you well, s-sir," she smiled. "But I'm not very g-good at being at gatherings as g-grand as this one," Amy's gaze drifted to the stars that dotted the sky.

"I understand," Ian sighed, "I feel the same."

He felt her hand gently squeeze his own, and as his eyes met hers he realized he was in trouble. Fucking hell. Were those butterflies in his stomach? He barely knew the girl!

"I take it that you enjoy dancing as much as I do, then!" Ian smirked, feeling a spurt of pleasure as she laughed, the sound music to his ears.

"Yes, I love tripping over my own two feet as a strange man stands too close for comfort," she giggled, jewel toned eyes full of mirth as her stutter momentarily disappeared.

"Am I standing too close for comfort?" Ian asked, lips inches away from hers.

Before she could respond, Ian felt the doors clatter open as his night was once more disrupted by his devilish little sister.

"Ian! There you are! Mother and - oh!" Natalie paused in her complaint as she realized what she had walked into.

"I can't believe you just did that," Ian fumed, pacing across the hall, Natalie struggling to keep up.

"Father said he wanted to speak with you, and I didn't know you would be with some girl! Who was she anyway?" Natalie probed, breathless, her skirts swishing around her ankles. "Also, slow down!"

"None of your business," Ian stated, adjusting his pace. "She was tolerable and I was enjoying myself but now I'm talking to you and doing the exact opposite."

Natalie gasped theatrically, and was about to respond when Ian clamped a hand over her mouth and paused before the door of their father's study, which was slightly ajar.

"Vikram, these are your people! But it shouldn't matter who's people they are, the fact is that they're people, and this is the best thing you could do for them!" A tall, graceful woman with loosely pinned up auburn curls exclaimed, thumping her fist on the table that stood between her and Ian's father, who's face held an unfamiliar softness.

"You know how much respect I have for you and your policies, Hope, and as much as I agree with you, my hands are tied," Vikram shook his head as the red headed woman scoffed.

"All of the kingdoms have agreed to sign the Cahill Treaty, Vikram, you need to make your cabinet understand it's value," Hope sighed, "you're holding the citizens of the Lucian Kingdom back, they won't be able to keep up with the expansion of inter kingdom trade, and they won't legally have the rights citizens in other kingdoms would. Girls need to go to school Vikram!"

"I know, I know, and I already told you, my hands are tied, do you know what the nobles would do to my family if I tackled the wealth gap? If the nobles felt like their lifestyle was being threatened in any way, if everyone were equal in the eyes of the law, then my family would no longer be in power, and as much as I understand the value of equality you can't expect me to put aside my legacy for this," Vikram placed his hand on top of Hope's, and Ian felt Natalie tense up next to him.

Hope pulled her hand away, and gave Vikram a probing look. "I understand," she knelt into a deep curtesy. "The Madrigal Kingdom is grateful for your diplomatic efforts, your majesty."

Vikram's normally stoic features expressed hurt before he composed himself, responding with a bow. "Likewise."

Ian grabbed Natalie's hand and pulled her down the hall as the door swung open and Hope walked out.

Ian pieced it together the second she mentioned the treaty, largely because she bore a striking resemblance to her daughter. She was Queen Hope Cahill of the Madrigal Kingdom, pathetic peacekeepers that had forgotten the values that upheld glorious kingdoms. Except Amy, she was different.

"What was that?" Natalie whispered, more unnerved by Vikram's uncharacteristic display of affection towards a woman that wasn't their mother than by the mention of the Treaty. Ian had never seen his father so tender with their mother, or with anyone, but unlike Natalie he was more concerned about the implication of a political disagreement with the other kingdoms.

"I don't know, but I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Ian squeezed his sisters shoulder, giving her a well practiced smile of reassurance. "Father knows what he's doing, and I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of...that."

Natalie nodded, but Ian could see worry brewing in her eyes. "I'm going to go back to the party, and you probably should as well after you speak to father."

Ian watched her walk down the hall, and decided he would deal with her later. Being a Kabra was emotionally grueling, and as much as Natalie tried to pretend she was as resilient as Ian was, he knew that she clung to the displays of approval and affection from their parents more than she'd like to admit.

Ian peeked into the study to see his father stood over the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back.

"Father? You wanted to talk," Ian said, his tone colored with nervousness.

Vikram turned to face him, imposing and stone faced as always. The Vikram that had been speaking to Hope Cahill was nowhere to be found.

"Yes, come in, son, shut the door behind you," he replied, sweeping his hand in a shutting motion.

Ian did so, and faced his father once more. While he was as terrifying as always, Ian could see that he was more absent minded than usual. Ian remained silent, waiting for him to speak, the crackle of the fire doing nothing to ease his nerves.

"You are a man now, Ian, and in two years time you will ascend to the throne and take my place," Vikram began as he poured himself a cup of wine. "That means you need to understand the responsibilities of being king." For the first time in his life, Ian's father proceeded to pour him a cup of wine, and slid it across the table to him.

Ian took a sip, relishing the taste of manhood. He'd drunk alcohol many times before, but never had that drink been poured by his father.

"Yes, sir," Ian said, nodding diligently.

"Next time you decide to eavesdrop on my conversation, do a better job, my son," Vikram chuckled, as the color in Ian's cheeks rose.

"I'm sorry, father, I didn't intend to-"

"It's alright, you did, and you heard things that I would've discussed with you regardless," Vikram sat across the desk from Ian and handed him a leather bound file of papers.

"This is a copy of the Cahill Treaty," he said, "I want you to read it by next week and come up with a set of policies to counteract the effect it's ratification in foreign kingdoms will have on the Lucians."

Ian flipped through it as Vikram observed him wordlessly, phrases like "universal suffrage" and "free trade" catching his eye. He skimmed a few pages, and thought what he'd read to be a highly coherent, detailed effort to improve the livelihood of citizens in all five kingdoms through a plan to maximize education and employment, promote equality, and enhance the workings of the economy.

"It's genius, isn't it," Vikram said, placing his empty cup on the desk. "Queen Hope worked on it for years, and it's been signed by all the kingdoms except for ours."

"Why?" Ian asked, almost dumbly. He knew the answer, but he needed to hear how corrupt the kingdom he was going to inherit someday was to quell any lingering hopes for bettering his country.

"Because the aristocracy will cease to exist if we hand the common person the means to improve their own lives, there will be a revolution, and the Kabra dynasty will come to an end, to put it simply, boy," Vikram spat, "ruling some kingdoms might be about making the best decisions for your people, but here in our kingdom, we need to make the best decisions for ourselves."

Ian looked up to see his father pouring himself another cup. "No one loves and respects the Kabras and no one will forgive us if we stumble in our ruling. The nobles are merciless- if you fuck it up then you fuck it up for good, and the Kabra dynasty will come to a shameful close."

Ian shut the file, and placed it on the desk.

"Happy birthday, son," Vikram raised his glass, taking a swig, "enjoy your youth while it lasts."