Gathered here today to organize a matrimony, the imperial families of warring empires Tsurina and Albine are seated opposite one another. They have abandoned the battlefields for this very moment— but their war shall come to a swift end should this congregation attain its goal.

There are three necessary rules to bear in mind when an alliance through marriage is considered between two kingdoms:

1. The betrothal must come about by suggestion from any affluent party (whether or not they are entirely uninvolved, a mediator, or an active participant in the existing conflict or otherwise) and the decision agreed upon by three councils (the involved countries and a third party) which, if confirmed, will be formally announced to all of the world. If any one will oppose and provide valid justification then the arrangement will be annulled.
2. Celebrations of the betrothal must be held for an extended period of time (the exact length is negotiable by the two involved parties however it must stretch into years) in order to strengthen relations between nations and assure the masses of the great benefit the country will amass.

And the most important one, a standard rule that applies to all marriages:

3. The two parties arranged for the alliance must be of equal value and same/similar standing. One cannot be of higher standing than the other.

In a world where balance is key and equality the claimed mandate, must there be restrictions even in love? Let’s turn that question around. When concerning the bonds of marriage, does this connection require love?

Those are curiosities for the individual to answer. In this world there is only one universal law:

The scales must always be balanced.

Albeit, those aren’t necessarily considerations to be taken for bastard children.

It truly cannot be stressed enough how mismatched the betrothed pairing is— or, if they were to be given the benefit of the doubt, expected to be a mismatched couple. Their homelands are oceans away from another with dissimilar climate and their subsequent behaviors are of the same fashion.

Those from Albine sat upright with their hands laid on their laps only raising when they spoke, emphasizing their words by writing expressively in the air. Their actions are always large and noticeable, made uncanny by their seemingly permanent smiles. When they had shown their acknowledgement of Tsurina’s royal family, the jewels hanging off their garments giggled gleefully while their metal crowns caught onto some light giving them an otherworldly glow. Somehow they had managed to be charming despite their overly open nature.

Those from Tsurina remained as they were when they had walked: with their heads bowed in respect to the emperor. In order to sit level with those from Albine they were provided with a platform where their cushions had been laid. They bowed deeply in acknowledgement and took their seats without excessive movement. It is their uniformity that, despite their silence and sparse actions, imbues them with the impression of power.

This is a meeting meant for discussing and negotiating their alliance, the engagement to follow, and what shall be done with the Piaba territory. Typically one such event will be rather noisy but for now the room was silent. The organizer of this event is yet to arrive.

The emperor of Albine was the first to speak,

“How nice to see that you arrived safe and sound.” His voice fills the empty space, bouncing off the walls and surrounding them.

In contrast, the emperor of Tsurina’s voice is quiet but their words are venomous. “Yes. How nice to see your good behavior.”

The air is thickened by apprehension and forced cordiality. While they had ordered a ceasefire it could be said that the war moved into this space. These are two individuals who have clashed swords in the barely distant past. Underneath their garments they have wounds sustained from the other, some still in the process of healing. Their sense of decorum clung weakly to their owners who wanted nothing more than to hurry this ordeal into its conclusion. A shame that they waste such a lovely room with their indelicate desires.

Languorously the emperor of Albine dragged his eyes along those sitting before him. Some of the imperial family members held beautifully patterned circular fans with simplistic wooden handles to hide half of their faces while others had their faces exposed. From his vague recollection he remembers that they have a tradition of maintaining chastity for their princesses meaning those without are in the line of succession (although one of them would never have a chance for the throne.) If he is mistaken then at least he remembers that the young ones with the same royal garments he had slain on Piaba weren’t using fans. He would know, he sent whatever seemingly important belongings they had to their emperor.

“I find it splendid news that you still have heirs after they were slaughtered like lambs on the battlefield.” He commented.

This taunt was not dignified with a verbal response. Instead of words the Tsurinian emperor took to action: a sword was now pointing to the carefree man’s neck.

“I have nearly forgotten your needless devotion.” Was his casual comment.

“Insult a fallen soldier and you will be destroyed for it.”

“It is a futile endeavour trying to defend a dead man.”

“This is my oath.”

At this the Albinian emperor narrowed his eyes. To him there is no greater annoyance than to waste precious time and energy into worthless trites. His arms that were once defiantly crossed now lay on his lap.

Betraying their lessons in grace, the royals shifted their eyes nervously to the emperors before them. Even those from Albine dropped their courteous smiles.

This is not their home country and this is not their battlefield either; this is Peaceland in the Pure House. This is unfamiliar terrain. They were warned of the consequences should they sully the tranquillity of this nation. Even militaristic countries such as theirs must be careful on foreign land, especially when their monarchs are gathered on said foreign land. They’d stiffened, waiting with baited breath.

In a room this still and isolated each little shift can be heard. Their safety is guaranteed by a space perfectly tailored for their circumstances as this wing of the Pure House’s purpose is for conflict resolution between conflicting nations. It’s white with some touches of gold lining, all provided cutlery is silver, and the room only has chairs and a lengthy rectangular table all crafted from glass. This heightened the perception of noise was brought to attention when there was the sound of a shoe’s sole dragging along the marble floor.

All eyes laid on the perpetrator: the celestial demon of the snow. The one and only illegitimate child of the Albinian Emperor.

She was noticeable the moment she entered and her slip-up was, to them, an invitation to turn their attention to her. Her sunny hair cascading down her shoulders and her winter white skin hit by the chandelier's light cast upon her an otherworldly glow. A bonny face with a button nose charmingly blushing, full cheeks (a mark of her youth,) soft brows and thick lashes batting slowly, and shapely lips shaded drops of red in pristine snow. Her big eyes holding the cosmos beyond were lidded by a mystifying exhaustion. Dangerously you are sucked into pity by her weak disposition and darling expression.

Good-looking isn’t enough to describe it, and yet it feels sinful to declare her a heavenly beauty with such wicked origins. She is far from an angel. This one is the embodiment of what is terrifying about an illegitimate: the fulfilment of nefarious plans, a child born of holy and hell. An irresistible exterior betrayed by the darkness of the soul.

She hadn’t spared them a glance in faux ignorance of the world and the events surrounding her. It is due to her short-lived influence that they’ve come about the unexpected resolution of a perilous disagreement. The reminder of her existence reminded them of the purpose of this meeting.

Sheathing their blade, the insulted emperor took their seat. They breathed out slowly to stabilize their triggered emotions.

“You bring your offering.” They remarked.

“And you have brought yours. Not that I fail to understand why but was there a need to dress it for a funeral?”

“Black is a cursed color. The most optimal.”

“We will be discussing a commitment and a compromise.”

“There is little place you can comment on the attire I choose for my dedication; see yours drowning in sticky opulence.”

“Well, if the thought consoles you I shan’t pay it mind. Then let us now commence the—”

“What are you doing?” The emperor of Tsurina interrupted with a scowl.

“Commencing the negotiations.”

“We are still missing a party member.”

The emptiness of the chair at the end of the table was placed into question. This attention to the glaringly evident issue had crumbled the fabricated serenity of the room. The emperor of Albine uncrossed his legs and propped his head on his hand. His spare hand drummed on the chair’s arm in contemplation. Finally he decided to say,

“Tell me this, Qi, do you trust Niccolo?”

This question sparked a different form of terse silence to consume them. A thoughtful and contemplative quiet.

Peaceland is an unexpected and unprecedented rising world power taking a daring climb up the hierarchy of the world’s most affluent countries. Their nation was built following their rebellion against their incompetent nobility with the leader of the movement becoming king: Niccolo Lauren.

He took the disorganized land and created unity for all under a new system: a country made by the people for the people. Under his rule the land thrived through innovation that they dreamed of sharing to the world. He created a society absent of caste. Through this their best people were given roles and appointed duties reserved for those of aristocratic blood. He called it a government and dubbed himself president instead of king, going so far as to destroy the crown on the day of his appointment.

This in itself was dreadful news for the world’s nobility. Upon witnessing such an act their people may think to follow suit in the pursuit of glory. They had to deal with this bothersome man.

As though sensing their hostilities, Niccolo acted with haste to make himself and his new nation significant to the world. He travelled and campaigned, making many attempts to better the negative opinions of him. He made his land a hub of trade for various cultures and increased the imports and exports of many other nations. He expressed that he believed it to be his duty to create a peaceful world. The nobility, seeing that he had no intentions of abolishing them, came to accept the existence of this strange country. Through commodifying himself and his nation they were spared.

Trade and commodification was not his only saving grace. Apart from this there are his services, it must be said that providing a venue and aiding in the unification of Tsurina and Albine is his most important venture yet this is not the first of the president hosting peace talks. There were other occasions where his charming voice and excellent conflict resolution skills were put to the test.

That is the reason for the creation of the Summit: an area completely cut off from the rest of the world and heavily guarded at all times with strict rules of interactions between nations. Absolute privacy is guaranteed here. An island surrounded by sea at the center of Peaceland where meetings are held and any words exchanged remain in the room unheard by anyone other than those involved.

For that exact reason Niccolo Lauren cannot be trusted. He has heard every detail of every meet ever held here. The man hasn’t been present long enough for them to see his true colors, and even when they do interact he acts like a good-for-nothing bootlicker who only knows how to suck up to his “superiors.” They do not know him.

Despite being enemies, they at least have the guarantee of knowing one another. There is a connection between those who have traded blows before. They have bared their true natures to one another. They are aware of their animosity towards and, to an extent, their intentions.

“What need do we have of that man when we have acquired from him a venue and an idea to steal?” The emperor of Albine stopped the movements of his fingers. “Is it your desire to risk our positions? To risk this union?”

“That is hardly desired.”

“Then? Is it a matter of your foolish beliefs? A pointless matter of useless respect that could very well be your ruin.”

“Leonardo Amadeo Julian Martinus Anglica.” The emperor of Tsurina addressed the emperor of Albine.

“Sonuha Qi.” The man responded.

A suffocating moment passed them. Emperor Anglica’s eyes were unwavering and confrontational. Emperor Qi glared back with defiance, although such effort proved futile. Emperor Anglica is right.

Clenching their fists, the emperor of Tsurina sighed. Emperor Anglica smirked triumphantly.

“We now begin the negotiations of the alliance, the royal engagement, and the Piaba territory.”

While the other participants were relieved at the progression of the events that transpired, to a stony-faced fellow in the room this has no purpose. The marriage is clearly finalized and that is all he needs to know.

Responsibility and duty remain the prince of Tsurina's sole focus. His responsibility is his fiancée and his duty is to cultivate good relations with her. He will place his attention on her and ignore others who may distract him from her.

The princess is said to be frail and prone to sickness. Her pallor and weakened frame confirm this. The heavy chains and jewels wrapped around her layered dress caused great concern along with the uncomfortable pointed silk shoes she wore. Though her shoulders sagged from the weight she maintained perfect upright posture. She stood out from the other royals because of her head absent of a crown or tiaras that the rest adorned. This may be because of her hair, golden as the sun, placating the need for it.

As her future husband, he sees their circumstantial pairing as a product of good fortune. It is important to see the good in all things. He possesses great skill in the medicinal field and a territory built on the water, a sight unfamiliar to one living in a wintery country. This union will bring a significant improvement to the princess’ quality of living. The ones to be arranged for marriage will irrefutably be them as it is the most fitting and most beneficial.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed one of the members of the Albine royal family move their arm. Briefly turning his sight from his princess, he noticed them raise their cup to their mouth. Moments after their sip he saw them widen their eyes and lean forward slightly with their lips pursed tight with desperation, all telltale signs of a cough.

Culturally in Tsurina there is a respectful way to cough that must always be employed especially in the presence of the emperor: cough facing the opposite direction of your superior. The Albine royal is not aware of this.

Considering the volatile energy possessed by their monarchs, this miniscule mistake may cause yet another diversion and once again delay them. This will, in turn, get in the way of his duty.

The prince faked a cough. He had done so respectfully as per customs and after he finished his demonstration he made brief eye contact with the potential offender. Catching onto his innuendo they followed suit. While they had shown fear and disdain towards his presence it was all discarded in a moment of great need for guidance.

Relieved of the burden and the situation resolved, he returned his focus back to where it belongs only to find his attention reciprocated.

The princess saw him.

The princess witnessed what had happened.

It is only then that his thoughts are guided to a belated epiphany: interaction with another member of the same court before having any manner of interaction with your fiancée is questionable conduct. No matter how well-meaning it was there’s a layer to it that lies in a sort of subtle disrespect. Naturally then this will lead to great suspicion from the princess and from this arises the possibility of their marriage— or worse: their engagement— to sour.

“With all in agreement, Princess Ellira Arie Melaine Laila Nise Orienne Pristin and Prince Yua Qi are to be married as a confirmation of our friendship and continued partnership with one another.”

The final decision has been made, and following this was the blood pact and signing the Treaty of Convenire. The negotiations have come to an end. The war is officially over and the dispute over the Piaba territory is settled.

Princess Ellira Arie Melaine Laila Nise Orienne Pristin of the imperial clan of Anglica and Prince Yua Qi of the imperial clan of Qi are officially engaged.

Princess Ellira broke eye contact first to stare at the emperors with their arms linked and drinking to the beginning of a fortuitous alliance. A smile— so faint he strained to see it— tugged on the corners of her mouth and for the first time in his life the prince felt unsettled.

What does that smile mean?

Why had she stared back at him earlier?

What are her intentions?

He cannot understand her. He cannot think of any reason for her actions. He begins to doubt his capability of enacting his duty.