It was probably the happiest day of my life. I was selected as the Best Artist of Volgograd Drawing Contest. For the first time in the twenty years of my life, I had known the feeling of owing a title I had always coveted. When the judges had announced the third, the second and the first runner up, I had lost all hope of winning the contest. And just then, my name had been announced: Sylvia Bukowski!

It rang out loud and clear. Everyone was silent, everyone must've heard it too but not with the same throb as me in their hearts. Except one.

Sylvia, congratulations! I'm so happy for you, my darling! You rock!

Sienna Petrowski. My best friend through three years of my teenage journey. She applauded for me as everybody else and we both dissolved into tears mysteriously after I had received my golden medal ...

... and a perfect day crashed like a mirror.

The small signet ring lay on the mahogany table like a death note. This, the painful present of May, twenty-sixth.

My mother picked it up and placed it inside a velvet box very carefully. She looked at me with hard eyes, and said, very gravely, 'You're going to make up your mind, aren't you? '

'I've made up my mind, ' I told her, my heart riven, 'I will. '

My mother shut the small velvet box closed and placed it on the table. She appeared surprised but hid it well. She then, stood up and ordered to "do something of my horribly common dress" and bring me the "good clothes" at once. When William the Butler had hurried to carry out her orders, my mother turned her attention to the medal I had around my neck.

With an overweening smile on her pale face, she touched the metal lightly. Her blue eyes had a strange light in them. It didn't seem at all that she had aged from seventeen to thirty seven.

'You don't know, Sylvia,' she said, her eyes affixed to the medal and voice as rigid as ever, 'the joy of sensing victory from afar and the pacific feeling that comes when the victory finally falls at your feet because you are always so diffident in your actions. It is unfathomable to you. '

'So you sensed that I would say yes, in advance?' my voice was rough as words tumbled out before I could think them through, 'And now you are happy that I have? '

Her severe blue eyes were filled with macabre darkness at once. For a moment, I felt my heart stop and I cursed my big mouth inwardly. But I was surprised at the loss of aggression from the magisterial lady of our household. She turned immediately, leaving no traces of the haunting blue eyes or the grim face painted with paleness.

'I'll inform you if the Rex should want to meet you in person, ' she said robotically, and ascended the grand staircase, out of my sight.

Suddenly, I was exhausted. I plopped down on the sofa and fluffy cushions to close my eyes for few seconds. The butler, William arrived not late after, and I had to go to change. Once I was in my room, I rushed towards my phone and rang up Sienna.

'Sea! ' I cried over the call, 'That woman crushed my life to pieces!'

'What happened? ' Sienna's eyes were a calm blue as they bore anxiously into her friend's grim ones.

'Disaster,' mumbled Sylvia, wiping the sweat off her creased forehead. 'A total, irreplaceable, unheard-of disaster. No, wait. it's not unheard of... you must have heard about being sold off to a rich family at the cost of one's dreams. '

'Okay...'

'No, wait. I want to jump off a building and die, can I? '

Sienna raised a perfectly carved eyebrow at her friend's dramatics but decided to stay silent.

'So, what happened was I got chosen for marriage into the Silver family and that happened without my consent,' enunciated Sylvia distressedly.

'And what now? ' asked Sienna, worrying inwardly what that could mean for their precious friendship, 'Are you gonna marry? Just like that?'

Sylvia scoffed, 'That old woman you like to call my mother, do ya think she's all jolly toey me get away from this marriage? Like, is she gonna come and say to me that dear, you should bunk this marriage? Huh. '

Sienna sighed, shaking her head in sorrow, 'This... isn't right but it can't be helped... '

Sylvia pushed her long, caramel strands of hair back in frustration and both the friends fell into a hopeless silence.

Question was, what did it mean for their friendship? If Sylvia were to marry into another family, she'd never be able to be free enough to think about anything else but her new home and as much as Sienna despised the thought, she also understood that she had no control over it.

Sylvia, like all the other Radical Aristocrats in the country of Solicit were like poems for chess. They had no life, only ambition: the ambition to transform Solicit from a country of Aristocracy Rules to a country of Radicalism Rules. Sylvia and Sienna were the daughters of two of the biggest Radical Aristrocrats of all times: the Runes family and the Bukowski family.

Perhaps fate had other plans for Sylvia and perhaps, that had resulted in her revolting against aristocracy from an early age, just like her father which had led to her father treasuring her.

But then, he'd died in a car accident. Sylvia snorted at the thought : bloody car accident. Why was it that even the greatest of people died in the most ordinary of ways?

'Know what? ' quipped Sienna, frustrated out of her mind, 'This prince, whoever he is, he sounds stupid. Kill him on the night of the wedding for me, will you? '

''Course, ' replied Sylvia, 'and then we can happily live ever after... in a prison. '

Both the best friends let out a soul-renching sigh. What was wrong with their destinies?

'Fine then,' said Sienna, 'just don't fall for him. '

Sylvia laughed so loud at this that Sienna was startled and fell out of her chair. The whole coffee shop went pin-drop silent as all the people eyed the girls amusedly.

'Dang it! '

'Oops. '

As a token of love, the rings of Solicit are engraved with romantic words especially meant as a proposal of marriage. As the Prince of Solicit and your future groom, I send you this token of love. I hope you like it.

~ The Prince

Sylvia huffed, crossed her legs and threw the weighty scroll of parchment onto the coffee table.

As a token of love, they engraved the ring with romantic but fake words. If you'd have asked Sylvia, she'd rather throw the ring than wear it.

But as Sylvia took a close look at the ring, she had a change of heart.

The slow shine, the minute engraving, the lovely texture... wow.

On it, were carved the copperplate words: His token of love.

Sylvia snorted. Rubbish.

But the ring was beautiful. Who had designed it so gorgeously that she, a person who was always averse the idea of wearing a ring, suddenly fell in love with it?

'Miss, it's your mother. '

Sylvia turned and saw the butler, William, standing there, bowing, waiting for her response. She offered him a small smile.

'I'll be right there, William, ' said Sylvia.

William turned around after bowing with a short 'Sure' and left. Sylvia sighed and looked at the ring in her hands. Looking at the ring, two words rang in her ears: Prince Crescendo.

The Prince, the prince of Solicit, the ice demon king. Crescendo.

'I hope you and Prince Crescendo would have a meteoric progress once you meet each other, ' said Sylvia's mother, as emotionless as always.

Sylvia got up without a word. From years of experience, she knew how niggardly her mother could get if her orders were not followed immediately.

William escorted Sylvia to the room The Prince was supposed to be waiting in and shut the door behind her as she entered it.

The moment she raised her eyes, Sylvia forgot to breathe.

What is standing before me is not the Vampire that haunts me in my dreams. He is noble and sublime, has seriously long legs and his hair short and simple. I feel like I'm burning from his gaze... what grey, stormy eyes...

Then she regained her senses.

Crescendo was smirking.

Of course, like any other prince, Crescendo was like someone popped out of a fairy tale: beautiful, smart, gentle, innocent...

'Hello, Bukowski. Can I kiss you? '

...or not.

'Prince, ' Sylvia bowed, ignoring his previous comment altogether.

'Stop being so formal, Bukowski, ' he said, plopping on the bed.

'You're in the pink, I see, ' remarked Sylvia, carefully sitting on a chair near the bed.

'How long are you going to maintain that hundred-meter distance between us, Sylvia? '

Sylvia. Sylvia. Sylvia.

The name echoed in her ears like a broken record. How did he pronounce it that way?

Once again, she gave up on breathing.

Sylvia smirked, realizing that it was getting awkward, 'Crescendo, why do you think you're marrying me? '

They had known each other for almost as long as anyone can. Because of their noble lines, they had to frequently meet in parties and balls. But Sylvia had never really liked Crescendo romantically. Now, however, when they were meeting after almost half a decade because Crescendo had gone to the US for studies and had just returned, all Sylvia could see, all she could feel was pure, unadulterated attraction.

I want to kiss you.

'Why, for love of course, ' was his sarcastic reply.

Sylvia didn't know what triggered it: the way he put it, the ridiculous idea of them falling in love or the whole sexual tension, but whatever it was, it was hilarious.

They both ended up in stitches.

They were laughing so mirthfully that, for a second, they forgot they didn't like each other romantically. It felt like a date.

Sylvia's cheeks were red from laughing so much and suddenly, Crescendo was too close.

'Well, ' she coughed, shifting the chair slightly away from the bed, 'as you say. '

He laughed again and a small spurt of laughter escaped her too.

'Solicit will prosper if I marry you, ' spoke Crescendo, abruptly turning serious, 'and likewise for your family, Bukowski. '

'That's why, ' Sylvia replied just as calmly, 'and here I was thinking you had probably lied to all your family that you were marrying me for love. '

Crescendo's expression changed in the blink of an eye. Mirth bubbled upon his lips again, but he held it in, and looked at Sylvia with a strange proximity in his grey eyes.

'Actually, ' spoke The Prince, 'I did. '