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Knowledge and information were twin crowns of rulership. They enabled a queen to understand the complexities of a diplomatic situation. It allowed them to maneuver through a military crisis. And, perhaps, most important of all, such knowledge made a leader accept when their hands were tied and that they had to swim with the tide or risk being drowned by the storms. 

Sulhana prided herself in her vast roots of information giving her whispers that no other royal ear had heard before the princess let it slip from her lips. But, now, those same voices spoke nothing but the four foreign princes who had come to take away Astalia's daughters and take her resources as their own. Naive girls dreamed of being swept off their feet by dashing princes with brilliant smiles that threaten to make their hearts pound in flustered admiration. But, dreams were for ignorant girls, unknowing of the truth behind noble marriages. And, Sulhana had awakened from her slumber a long, [i]long[/i] time ago.

She could not see these men as protectors nor liberators. No. All she saw were iron shackles, eager to clip at her and her sisters' heels. To drag them down from their pedestals and make them tragic baby mills of inept scions.

Knowledge was indeed a crown, Sulhana thought. Now, she wept at the irony that although she had been schooled and bred for this, she found such a circlet heavy on the heart though light upon the head.

The Princess of Whispers rose from her rosewater bath then, the water trickling down her slender frame as she looked out at the nearby window where the procession of the princes thundered her fears into reality. The handmaids gathered to her side quickly to wrap her in cloths before she stepped out of the bath and into her chamber room. There, she stood in front of the large mirror. Before long, she had been dressed in a form-fitting, dark blue dress which was fastened at the collar with a golden buckle with the sleeves falling down to her wrists. At her waist, there tied was a lengthy cloth band of white and black with the crest of the stag embroidered upon it, a symbol of Astalia's spymaster. Her emerald orbs gazed at her reflection: a deteriorating king's offering with thick raven locks braided neatly hidden beneath a translucent white silk veil. A circlet of the silver moon wound around her head to fasten the veil on tight.

Sulhana gritted at her image whilst she tapped at the onyx band on her ring finger, fury simmering at how small she looked as compared to her sisters. She was barely five-foot-six. But, perhaps, it was for the best. After all, looks can be deceiving. The third princess was a spider; she was barely noticeable as she spun her webs. However, once the threads tightened, oh... the prey she could catch.

Soon, the scent of lavender wafted in her wake as Sulhana made her way through the cold halls of the Astalian Palace towards the grand chamber where their guests would meet with her father. Men... who, without a doubt, would have only seen the four sisters as nothing more than bargaining tools used to further their ambitions. Her thoughts dwelled on Annalise, her dear eldest sister, who had the strongest claim to the throne. No doubt those princes would have set their sights on her in an effort to secure Astalian lands as their own once the king faded from this world.

[i]I will protect her. I will protect them all.[/i]

With a trembled sigh leaving her lips, the girl lifted her head from the harrowing thoughts as she looked straight ahead at the double-doors leading to the grand hall. Emotions faded from her visage, all worries and smiles seeping out into the recesses of her heart when the guards opened the path for her. Sulhana sauntered softly over to where her father, King Harold, sat upon his gold-enshrined throne. Each step closer sent visions of a once-warm father stabbing at her heart, causing Sulhana to bite her lower lip in frustration. But, when she set her gaze on him, she was reminded of the cruel reality that the beloved king of Astalia was no longer the same man when their mother was still alive. That warm father figure was gone, replaced by the ghost of a man in shambles.

"I greet the Sun and Moon of Astalia," Sulhana greeted her father as she bowed deeply in his direction. "I greet you, father, on this memorable day when we forge alliances with the sovereign nations around us," The princess offered a smile despite the cold pang in her heart which forked out and ran through every limb of her being. "Mother would have loved to see this day."