THE IMPERIAL SIBLINGS

ROBB

A royal banquet had been arranged as Robb's first formal social engagement in Yi Ti. After weeks of lessons in court etiquette from Master Wei, he was finally deemed prepared to meet the imperial siblings.

As Robb adjusted the unfamiliar weight of his formal Yi Tish attire—layers of fine silk embroidered with patterns he now recognized as symbols of honored guests—he couldn't help but feel trepidation. He had assumed Princess Ruyan's siblings would be as coldly calculating as she appeared, viewing him merely as breeding stock for their family's magical ambitions.

The banquet hall took his breath away despite his determination to remain unimpressed. Soaring ceilings supported by columns of carved jade depicted dragons in flight. Lanterns of colored glass cast a warm glow over the polished stone floor, and fragrant incense burned in golden braziers, filling the air with an exotic sweetness. A collection of musicians played softly in one corner on instruments unlike any Robb had encountered in Westeros.

The Crown Prince Xian entered first, and Robb was struck by his regal presence. At twenty, he embodied what Robb had imagined an imperial heir should be—imposingly tall with proud, elegant features. His formal attire was breathtaking—black and gold robes with intricate dragon patterns woven throughout, the fabric catching the light as he moved. Upon his head sat a golden crown adorned with jade and sapphires, with ornamental pendants that framed his face. Despite the weight of his elaborate clothing and crown, he moved with practiced grace.

When Prince Xian approached, Robb performed the bow that Master Wei had drilled into him for hours. To his surprise, Prince Xian's stern countenance softened into a welcoming smile.

"Lord Stark of Winterfell," Prince Xian greeted him in the Common Tongue with only the slightest accent. "My sister has spoken highly of your family's ancient lineage. It is an honor to finally meet you."

Though Robb searched for falseness in the prince's manner, he could detect none. There was a genuine warmth beneath the formal courtesy that caught him off guard.

"The honor is mine, Your Highness," Robb replied, cautious but equally polite.

Before their conversation could continue, the second prince made his entrance. Prince Jian couldn't have been more different from his older brother in demeanor, though they shared similar handsome features. Where Prince Xian wore black and gold, Prince Jian was dressed in flowing white and silver robes with subtle blue accents, his hair partially bound in a topknot secured by a simple silver crown. At seventeen, he carried himself with a casual confidence that bordered on irreverence.

"So this is the wild wolf from the frozen North!" Prince Jian exclaimed, approaching Robb with none of his brother's formality. He circled Robb once, eyeing him with undisguised curiosity. "Doesn't look very savage to me. I expected more fur and perhaps some war paint."

"Jian," Prince Xian admonished quietly, but his eyes held amusement.

Prince Jian grinned, unrepentant. "Is it true what they say about Northerners? That you can drink ten cups of wine without falling over?"

Despite himself, Robb felt his lips quirk upward. "I've never counted, Your Highness."

"Then we must find out!" Prince Jian declared, clapping him on the shoulder as if they were old friends. "After this tedious formal business, of course."

The appearance of Princess Ruolan drew Robb's attention next. At thirteen—the same age as Robb—she was a vision in pink and red silks, her elaborate headdress adorned with pearl flowers and silver butterflies that moved slightly with each step. Her face, framed by cascading ornaments, held a sweet openness that reminded Robb painfully of Sansa.

"Lord Stark," she greeted him with a perfect formal bow. "I hope your stay in our palace has been comfortable."

"Very comfortable, Your Highness," Robb replied honestly. "Though very different from home."

"I've read that Winterfell has hot springs running through its walls," Princess Ruolan said, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Is it true your castle is always warm, even in the harshest winter?"

Robb blinked in surprise. "Yes, that's true. How did you know that?"

"I read everything I could find about the North when Ruyan was preparing for her journey," she explained. "It sounds magical in its own way—a warm castle surrounded by snow and ice."

The familiar way Ruolan referred to her sister, without title or formality, caught Robb's attention. It was the first hint he'd seen of the imperial siblings relating to each other as family rather than royal counterparts.

Ruyan finally joined them, and Robb was struck by how different she appeared in her formal court attire. She wore robes of white and cream accented with gold embroidery, less elaborate than her younger sister's but no less beautiful. Her headdress was made of jade and gold ornaments that framed her face, with a small red mark painted between her brows. Her expression remained as unreadable as ever, but in the context of her siblings, her reserve seemed less cold and more like a personal trait.

Prince Jian noticed him observing Ruyan. "She is the perfect imperial doll," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "At least, that's what the court has called her since childhood."

Robb said nothing, but his curiosity must have shown, for Prince Jian continued: "She could read when she was two, and from then on, she excelled in everything she attempted. She bested all of us in academics." He puffed his chest out proudly. "Though I am still the better archer and hunter."

Ruyan overhead this and gave her brother a look that, to Robb's astonishment, contained a hint of exasperated affection. "Don't fill his head with court gossip, Jian."

Throughout the banquet, Robb observed the dynamics between the siblings with growing fascination. Prince Xian's serious demeanor occasionally broke into indulgent smiles at his younger siblings' antics. Prince Jian told outrageous stories about court scandals that made Princess Ruolan giggle behind her sleeve. And Ruyan, though she never smiled, responded to her sister's affectionate gestures—accepting morsels of food Ruolan placed on her plate and allowing her to link their arms when they walked to view a scroll painting on the far wall.

"Your tour of Yi Ti has been planned in detail," Prince Xian told Robb as servants brought in yet another course of exotic dishes. "I will personally guide you through our military academies and demonstrate the Imperial Army's training techniques. I believe as heir to the North, you'll find it most educational."

"And I," Prince Jian interjected with a mischievous smile, "will show you the administration offices and imperial academies. And perhaps some less... official parts of Yin City after dark." He winked dramatically, earning a stern look from his older brother.

"Our brother means the night markets and artist quarters," Princess Ruolan clarified, her eyes twinkling. "They're quite beautiful when lit by paper lanterns."

"I will guide you through the medical academies," Ruyan added, her voice matter-of-fact. "After which we'll travel to the southern provinces of Asabhad, then north-central Yi Ti, then the northern borders, and finally to the eastern regions near Asshai."

"The imperial family rarely travels together," Prince Xian explained, noting Robb's surprise. "This tour is an unprecedented honor. The Emperor has commanded we show you not just our achievements but also our challenges—you'll see villages and meet common people, not just view palaces and monuments."

Robb struggled to reconcile this information with his assumptions about his captivity. If this was a carefully constructed façade, it was extraordinarily elaborate, involving the highest-ranking members of the imperial family. And why show him both strengths and weaknesses if the goal was simply to impress and intimidate?

As the evening progressed, Robb found himself laughing at Prince Jian's jokes and genuinely enjoying Princess Ruolan's questions about life in Winterfell. Even Prince Xian proved to be thoughtful and well-informed about Northern traditions, asking detailed questions about the North's defenses and governance.

Only Ruyan remained distant, though Robb noticed her watching him interact with her siblings with an expression he couldn't quite decipher. Once, when he caught her eye across the table, he thought he detected something like evaluation in her gaze—not cold calculation as he'd come to expect, but something more nuanced, as if she were seeing him anew through her siblings' reactions.

A doll. That's what Prince Jian had called her. The word unsettled Robb more than he cared to admit. Was that truly how her family viewed her? As a perfect, emotionless creation designed to fulfill the emperor's ambitions? Or was her reserved nature a shell she had built around herself, a defense against the weight of imperial expectations?

For the first time since his abduction, Robb found himself wondering about Ruyan as a person rather than as his captor—a realization that both intrigued and alarmed him.

As the banquet concluded and the siblings rose to bid him goodnight, Robb performed the formal bow he had practiced, but with a newfound sense of confusion. These were not the cold, calculating royals he had imagined. They were people—complex, human, and surprisingly familiar despite their exotic surroundings and elaborate dress.

"Rest well, Lord Stark," Prince Jian called as they departed. "Tomorrow I'll teach you to use chopsticks properly! It's embarrassing watching you struggle like a child."

"Jian!" Princess Ruolan scolded, but her giggle undermined her reproach.

Prince Xian simply nodded respectfully, and Ruyan's face remained impassive as she followed her siblings from the hall.

Left alone with his thoughts, Robb realized his world had just become infinitely more complicated. It had been easier when he could view all of Yi Ti as an enemy, a monolithic threat to escape. Now, having glimpsed the humanity behind the imperial façade, the clear lines between captors and captive, between Yi Ti and the North, had begun to blur.

And that, perhaps, was the most dangerous development of all.