The grand dining hall of Château de Lumière stood as a testament to centuries of opulence and power. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the intricately carved mahogany table, its surface polished to mirror-like perfection. Tapestries depicting scenes of conquest and glory adorned the walls, their rich hues muted by the passage of time. At the head of the table sat Lord Edmond Beaumont, his shock of silver hair contrasting sharply with the vibrant orange jacket he wore—a color chosen deliberately for this evening's proceedings.
Across from him, directly opposite in both position and demeanor, sat his daughter, Lady Vivienne. Her deep violet dress seemed to shimmer in the candlelight, the color so intense it appeared almost alive. It was a shade that matched her eyes perfectly, those strange violet orbs that had always set her apart from her peers. Tonight, those eyes were fixed on her father, unwavering and unblinking.
The air in the room was thick with tension, a palpable force that seemed to press down on the handful of attendants standing silently against the walls. They had been trained not to react, not to listen, but it was impossible not to feel the weight of the unspoken conflict between father and daughter.
"The situation in the Eastern provinces is becoming untenable," Lord Edmond began, his voice carrying the weight of authority honed over decades of rule. "Our allies are growing restless, and our enemies more emboldened by the day."
Vivienne's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the stem of her wine glass. "And what solution does the esteemed council propose?" she asked, her tone a perfect blend of deference and challenge.
Lord Edmond's eyes narrowed slightly. He recognized the game his daughter was playing, had taught her the very rules she now employed against him. "A marriage alliance," he said flatly. "With the Duchy of Ironhold."
A flicker of something—rage? Fear? Amusement?—passed across Vivienne's face, gone so quickly it might have been a trick of the light. "How very traditional," she murmured, taking a sip of her wine. "And who, pray tell, is the lucky bride to be?"
The silence that followed her question was answer enough. Vivienne set down her glass with exaggerated care, the soft clink of crystal on wood echoing in the cavernous room. "I see," she said softly. "And I suppose my opinion on the matter is irrelevant?"
"Your opinion," Lord Edmond replied, his voice tight with controlled anger, "is noted. But in matters of state, personal desires must often be set aside for the greater good."
Vivienne laughed then, a sound devoid of mirth. "The greater good," she repeated. "How noble. And tell me, father, what of the reports from our spies in Ironhold? What of the whispers of unrest, of the Duke's cruelty to his own people?"
Lord Edmond's face remained impassive, but a muscle twitched in his jaw. "Rumors and hearsay," he dismissed. "We cannot base our foreign policy on gossip."
"No," Vivienne agreed, her voice suddenly cold. "We base it on the whims of old men, clinging desperately to power they no longer truly hold."
The words hung in the air between them, a challenge that could not be ignored. Lord Edmond leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. "You forget yourself, daughter," he growled. "Your duty—"
"My duty," Vivienne interrupted, rising to her feet in one fluid motion, "is to our people. All of our people, not just those whose coffers line your pockets."
The attendants along the walls shifted uneasily, their training warring with their instinct to flee the room. Lord Edmond's face had turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with his orange jacket. "You dare—"
"I dare because someone must," Vivienne shot back. She reached for her fork, gripping it tightly. "I dare because while you play your games of alliance and betrayal, real people suffer. I dare because I have seen things, father, things that would turn your hair white if it weren't already."
Lord Edmond stood as well, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "You know nothing of the burdens of rule," he spat. "You are a child, playing at politics you cannot hope to understand."
Vivienne's laugh was sharp and bitter. "A child? Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That I'm too young, too naive to see the truth?" She shook her head, her violet eyes blazing with an intensity that bordered on madness. "I see more clearly than you ever have, father. I see the rot at the heart of our kingdom, the corruption that festers while you dine on fine wines and make deals with devils."