[color=FDF0CD][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FRUTp4W.png[/img]
[h1][color=6B8E23]Shehzadi Ranya al-Kadir[/color][/h1][/center]

[color=6B8E23][b]Time:[/b][/color] 6PM 
[color=6B8E23][b]Location:[/b][/color] Grand Ballroom
[color=6B8E23][b]Outfit:[/b][/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/W4eoaDB.png]Ranya’s Outfit[/url]
[color=6B8E23][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] [@InfiniteCosmos] Munir [@RemRam] Askel [@AuthenticTomb] Aslam [@princess] Hafiz [@Lava Alckon] Farim
[color=6B8E23][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] 

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[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVBrpjCumDI[/youtube][/center]

The practiced speech withered on her tongue as Munir pressed a kiss to her forehead. For all his arrogance and the relentless, needling questions that made her want to scream, she knew he cared—truly, deeply. Her hands, still knotted in his coat, loosened at last, though the heat beneath her skin clung stubbornly, a fever that would not break, dry and relentless as the Alidashti sun.

​[color=ffce00]”Act like it,”[/color] he had said. [color=ffce00]”You are the Chosen.”[/color]

​The words tasted of copper and old blood. She knew he meant them as armor, a way to slip through the court’s nest of vipers, but bitterness still curled tight in her chest. For Munir, it was a strategy; for her, a death sentence. When he told her to act like the Chosen, she didn’t hear a brother’s care. Instead, she heard the order to crawl back into the gilded shroud, to smother the wildfire and become the cold marble idol their father adored. It was as if he feared the heat in her veins, as if Ranya’s true self would burn the Shehzadi to ash. He could not see how the shroud’s seams were already cutting wire-thin lines into her soul. He wanted her hidden, a ghost behind glass, but the fire in her blood was done being doused.

​Ranya watched him walk away, her golden brother—effortless, bold—striding into the viper’s den to shield a man he barely knew, only because he knew her heart was held by that man. Her breath caught, sharp and uneven, tears stinging her eyes until a gentle presence at her side steadied her.

​Zahra said nothing at first. She didn’t need to. She moved in front of Ranya, a living shield, her motions fluid and sure, blocking the court’s hungry eyes. From some secret fold of her robes, she drew a silver flask and poured a dark, rich wine into a small cup. The scent of fermented fruit cut through the air—sharp, grounding, more honest than the cloying perfume of scorched velvet.

​[color=C94772]“Drink, Ranya,”[/color] she whispered, her hand steady as she held it to Ranya’s lips. [color=C94772]“Your fire is showing. The curtain is weeping for you.”[/color]

​Ranya drank deep, the wine burning a clean path through the ash on her tongue. Zahra’s fingers drifted toward her shoulder, reaching for the cool balm meant to erase the bruises, but Ranya caught her wrist.

​[color=6B8E23]“No,”[/color] Ranya murmured, her voice thick with a sudden, reckless edge. [color=6B8E23]“Let it stay. Let the world see a glimpse of the 'protection' I enjoy. I am tired of wearing a mask over every wound.”[/color] She took the cup from Zahra and downed its contents before grabbing the flask and pouring herself another.

​Zahra paused, then nodded, adjusting the sea-foam silk so it barely brushed the edge of the bruises blooming on Ranya’s skin. Each time Ranya moved, the silk shifted, revealing a flash of ugly truth to anyone daring enough to look.

​[color=6B8E23]“He is going to kill him, Zahra,”[/color] Ranya whispered, the wine already starting to hum in her veins, loosening the knots in her stomach. [color=6B8E23]“He is standing there, smiling at Askel, and all I can see is the desert where he leaves the things he breaks.”[/color]

​[color=C94772]“Then be the sun that makes him blink,”[/color] Zahra countered, smoothing the veil. She gave her best friend a smirk and a look that spoke volumes. [color=C94772]“Go and claim what is yours.”[/color]

​Ranya straightened, the wine flooding her with a liquid, reckless confidence. She drained the cup, warmth settling deep in her bones. She was just about to move when Hafiz’s voice sliced through the music, cold and sharp.

​[color=#B39700]“And to my niece, Shehzadi Ranya, and Prince Askel of Varian! May their affection prosper beneath all the attention it has earned.”[/color]

​The ballroom froze. A wave of white-hot rage surged through Ranya, stoked by wine and the sheer audacity of his theft. Inside, her soul screamed—he had reached into the sanctuary of her heart and dragged her most precious secret into the garish light, to be picked apart by the court. This was no toast; it was a brand. Hafiz was marking his territory, binding her to a foreign prince on his terms, content to watch the fallout from the shadows. Yes, she had intended to make it known this evening anyway, but that should have been her’s and Askel’s decision on when to do so.

​Nausea twisted in her gut, the wine’s sweetness curdling to bile as she realized he had stolen the agency of her confession. That moment had belonged to her and Askel—a quiet promise beneath another sky—and Hafiz had twisted it into a weapon of control. The heat inside her flared, no longer a prickle but a furnace roaring with indignation.

​As Hafiz turned away, Ranya fixed her gaze on the center of his back, glare sharp enough to pierce bone. [color=6B8E23][i]I could set you ablaze with a thought,[/i][/color] she seethed in silence. For a heartbeat, the air around the Grand Vizier did not just warm—it shimmered, a pocket of desert heat so fierce it made the light ripple and the fine hairs on nearby necks rise. He kept walking, but for one jagged instant, he passed through a furnace of her making.

​Ranya stepped from behind the curtain, sudden and scorching as the sun. She glided toward the trio, silks billowing, ignoring Hafiz as he slipped away like a vulture from a fresh kill. Her focus was only on Askel.

​As she stopped beside him, she deliberately shifted her shoulder, letting the sari drop just enough for the dark, finger-shaped bruises to catch the candlelight. It was a silent, screaming defiance directed at the retreating back of her uncle. [color=6B8E23][i]Look at what you did,[/i][/color] the marks said. [color=6B8E23][i]And look at how little I care to hide it.[/i][/color]

​She reached for Askel, her fingers weaving through his in a public, unbreakable claim. The wine left the world blurred at the edges, but her focus on him was bright and cutting. She did glance to her cousin briefly as she giggled. [color=6B8E23]”I thought I was always the spark, dearest cousin.”[/color] She teased him before looking back to everyone else.

​[color=6B8E23]“It seems the Grand Vizier has developed a sudden fondness for the truth,”[/color] she said, her voice melodic and clear, carrying the slight, airy lilt of the alcohol. She looked up at Askel, her green eyes bright with an intensity that promised she would burn the world down before she let go. [color=6B8E23]“Though he has always been rather clumsy with things he cannot own.”[/color]

​She turned her gaze to Munir and Aslam, her chin lifting as she held Askel's hand firmly. [color=6B8E23]“Since the toast has been made, I believe it is only right that we show the court exactly what prospering affection looks like. But I am curious on both of your thoughts?”[/color]

​She squeezed Askel's hand, her eyes challenging her brothers. [color=6B8E23]“What say you? Is he worthy of your blessing, or must I claim him against the world alone?”[/color]

[color=6B8E23][i]Let them look. Fire doesn't just illuminate; it consumes.[/i][/color][/color]