Royalty on a verge

Ivana's return to the palace was a moment fit for legend. Her arrival in the dawn light cast a shimmering glow across the palace grounds, where marble arches gleamed pale gold and lush gardens spilled over with dewdrop-laden blooms. As she rode through the grand gate, an eager hush fell over the courtyard, and a sea of courtiers and attendants watched her descent with reverence. Ivana wore a deep blue cloak lined in silver, its fabric whispering against her shining dress beneath—a gown woven with threads of starlight that caught the morning sun and gleamed like a constellation.

At the top of the grand staircase, her father, King Arthur, awaited her with open arms and a welcoming smile that lit up his wise, warm face. Arthur was a striking presence, his gentle authority and calm dignity defining his reign. Unlike the heavy, rigid armor some kings wore even in their courts, he carried himself with an effortless elegance and a deep kindness that made him beloved by his people.

"My star," he greeted her, his voice rich with pride and joy. "You light up the palace more brightly than ever."

Ivana approached, her graceful steps making her appear as if she glided rather than walked. She met her father's open arms, and as they embraced, a gentle sense of peace filled the hall. "There's nothing like coming home," she replied softly, her eyes shining as she looked up at him.

King Arthur chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder and gazing at her with a warmth that softened the lines of his face. "The court has missed you. It's been too quiet without your voice—though Lady Eleanor's swans tried to fill the silence," he added with a wink, drawing a laugh from Ivana.

---

The palace halls welcomed her back like an old friend. Tall windows framed views of rose gardens and fountains, while the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of Ivana's ancestors and their conquests, blending elegance with rich history. In the courtyard, her attendants prepared a soft path of petals leading to the private rose garden, where a table had been set with delicate, shimmering dishes filled with fragrant fruits and honey-glazed pastries, specially chosen for her return.

Her lady-in-waiting, Rosalind, appeared at her side with a wide smile. "Princess Ivana, it's a joy to have you back! And I must say, that gown… it catches the light beautifully." Rosalind clasped her hands in admiration, her voice soft and warm.

Ivana laughed lightly, slipping out of her cloak and handing it to Rosalind. "It feels good to wear something other than a soldier's garb," she admitted, glancing down at the intricate embroidery on her gown, tiny threads of silver and sapphires that made her feel every inch a princess.

They walked through the arched corridors toward the gardens, the air filled with the sweet scent of roses and lavender. At the far end of the garden, a small group of courtiers and advisors awaited, each bowing respectfully as Ivana approached. She seated herself at her father's right, her bearing regal but comfortable, blending her warrior spirit with the undeniable grace of her royal heritage.

---

As they enjoyed a light breakfast and pleasant conversation, Arthur leaned in, his tone growing a touch more serious yet still warm. "I imagine your journey was full of intrigue, as always. And I trust you brought back stories?" He spoke in a hushed tone, making their conversation feel like a delightful secret.

Ivana's expression softened, and she spoke quietly, mindful of the curious ears around them. "There's something stirring, Father," she murmured. "And Charles's influence is more tangled than we realized. I even encountered someone… unexpected."

Arthur's gaze grew thoughtful, his eyes filled with gentle understanding. "You mean Edmund," he said softly, surprising her with his perception. "A thorny path, I'm sure. But whatever you found, I know you will navigate it as only you can."

She gave him a grateful smile, feeling the depth of their bond in that unspoken understanding. "I hope to make you proud, Father. There's so much yet to uncover."

As the sun rose higher, casting warm light over the palace gardens, Ivana felt a sense of renewal and purpose, knowing that within these walls, she was more than a warrior—she was a princess, a daughter, and a guiding light to her people.

As their conversation continued, soft music floated in from the far end of the garden, where musicians had begun to play a gentle melody on lutes and harps. The sound mingled with the birdsong and the trickle of fountains, creating an air of serene celebration. Court advisors, nobles, and ladies strolled through the garden, offering respectful nods and well-wishes to Ivana as they passed by, each one stopping to admire the princess who brought light and strength to their realm.

Just as she finished her light breakfast, the faint sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention. A messenger, dressed in royal colors, approached with a small scroll in his hand, bowing deeply as he presented it to the king.

King Arthur broke the seal and read quickly, his brow lifting with intrigue. He shared a glance with Ivana, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and caution. "It seems," he said, holding the letter for her to see, "that our allies to the north have sent a request for a meeting. And they speak of matters tied closely to Charles."

Ivana leaned closer, reading over her father's shoulder. "Then they know of the movements we've seen?" she murmured, catching sight of a familiar seal at the bottom of the letter.

Arthur nodded. "It seems they suspect the same we do—rumors of shifting allegiances. This could be our chance to gain a clearer view of Charles's intentions."

Ivana's gaze lingered on the letter as she considered the implications. The northern allies were known for their loyalty and wisdom, though they often remained cautious, preferring to act only when sure of the stakes. If they, too, were stirring, then Charles's movements might be more complex—and dangerous—than they had imagined.

With a nod, Arthur set the letter aside and rose from the table, offering Ivana his hand. "Come, my star. Walk with me. I think we have much to plan."

Ivana took his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in her father's grip. As they strolled through the gardens together, her thoughts raced with the newfound information, though her expression remained calm. She felt a renewed sense of purpose, her father's steady presence beside her strengthening her resolve.

Together, they would stand against whatever storm was brewing beyond the palace walls. And as they passed under the archway of flowering vines, a soft breeze lifted Ivana's gown, making the silver embroidery glint in the sunlight.