The ballroom was decorated quite pleasantly, with elegant, understated decorations in creamy whites and soft blues. It was not quite as crowded as one would expect an imperial engagement reception to be, but with Galecian empaths being the welcoming party, that wasn't surprising. Like her, they detested crowds, although for entirely different reasons. The food was nice, if a bit bland for her tastes. The president had welcomed her warmly, and she didn't need to be an empath to see the mixture of relief —due to the peace treaty— and confusion —due to the marriage requirement— on his face. She had yet to meet her so-called fiancé but overall, the reception had gone as she expected it to.

An utterly dull affair.

Her guide cringed for a moment at the sentiment that he must have felt from her. Were she younger, she would have hated the violation of having her emotions bared for just anyone who willing to look. Nowadays, she merely laughed at the discomfort of the no-doubt empathetic specialist the president had masqueraded as her guide.

She had been surprised the first time she had visited Galecia. Preparing for an empathic reading was not quite the same as having a roomful of people flinching at her presence.

She downed another glass of subpar wine. They —the empaths— had called it indifference. But she could see it clear as day — they could feel that something was missing, something was broken with her. She could see it in the way pity reflected in their eyes every time her fiancé came up in conversation. Because becoming the future emperor-consort of the greatest empire in known space was something to pity.

She didn't feel offended. She understood their reasoning. For a human, such a gain in status, regardless of any and all cons, was ultimately a great achievement. But for a Galecian? For someone who built their lives based on bonds of love, intimacy and trust? It was a crippled life.

Taking aside that she could not create an equal bond with her fiancé for she was not an empath herself, she couldn't even give him honest sentiment and trust. The best she could offer would be a measure of friendliness. She did not love even her father, how was she expected to love a stranger?

A greater deal of noise started near the doors. Whispers of 'the d'Aville boy' and 'the Senator's son' erupted, so she looked curiously at the incoming group.

Here he comes, she thought, thinking back on the holopics of the most beautiful face she had seen, but also one of the most ordinary of omegas she would ever meet. At least, it won't be much of a chore to kiss him at the ceremony.

Her guide — Stalis? Storis? Something like that, — led her to her future consort and in-laws, and she smiled amicably, as much as she could without appearing utterly fake, and greeted them.

"Admiral d'Aville, Senator d'Aville, it is a pleasure to see you again." She inclined her head, for they did not shake hands in Galecia, and then zoned through the pleasantries that followed with a practice that belied her station, until she could finally address her marriage partner.

"Mr. d'Aville," she nodded and the young man finally raised his head to stare at her with big blue eyes expressing a sort of inner vanity that she disdained— Wait.

"Your highness," a polite, lightly accented voice greeted her in her native tongue, although she had addressed him in Galecian. She looked him over, and made no effort to hide her appreciation. Silky blonde hair. Sapphire eyes. Pale skin and pink lips. Tall, slender. Dressed in the finest white robes with golden trim traditional to Galecian culture.

She had to make an effort not to break the glass in hands —her mood now soured— and smiled, much more brightly, and more confidently than she had the entire night.

She sneaked a look at the d'Aville elders. Did the Galecian Union think her stupid? Or was this merely her fate as a child of her father's blood? Some karmic irony for her forsaken mother's death?

She took his hand, although the surroundings grew quiet at her intentional slight, and kissed it. The young omega frowned but did not remove his hand from her hold. She smirked in response, feeling both amused and insulted at the implications.

This boy was not Heru d'Aville.