The soft glow of enchanted lanterns lit the interior of Astarotte Sylvarien's dorm room, casting warm light across the plush furniture and faintly perfumed curtains. The golden-haired succubus princess sat curled up at the foot of her bed, emerald cat-like eyes wide with excitement. Her delicate pink tail twitched behind her as she hugged a pillow tightly.
"Did you see it?" Astarotte burst out, voice breathless. "That duel between Ned and Oberyn? It was incredible!"
Seated nearby on a round velvet cushion was Piglette Mariglen, the gentle orc princess with bright orange hair tied into two long twin braids. Her eyes, soft and warm, blinked thoughtfully. "They weren't trying to hurt each other... but it was still so powerful. Like fire meeting steel."
Across the room, leaning against the bookshelf, was Roanna Briarwyn, the vampire princess with long, silky crimson hair that flowed over her dark gown like liquid silk. Calm and composed as ever, she took a sip from a crimson-hued tea cup before speaking. "They both showed restraint. That's rare in boys their age—especially for someone like Oberyn."
Bouncing on the floor beside the bed was Liselotte D'Armoire, the bubbly mermaid princess, her vibrant ocean-blue hair swishing around her as she laughed. "It was like—Zing! Zoom! Bam! Did you see when Ned absorbed Oberyn's chrono strike with his Equalization Zone? So cool! So cool!"
"And yet," added a refined voice, "neither lost their composure when the battle ended. That is true strength."
The speaker was Shuna Lysavelle, the ogre princess, seated upright with her back straight and her pink hair flowing like a silken river. Her sharp horns glinted under the light, and her pink eyes remained measured and thoughtful. "They understood that strength is not simply for dominance—but connection."
Astarotte's ears twitched at that. She lowered her gaze to the floor.
"I want to be strong too," she whispered, clenching her fists. "I can't stay the weakest among us. If I want to stand next to someone like Serenil, like Ned... I have to grow. I have to change."
Piglette offered a soft, warm smile. "You're not weak, Astarotte. Just still growing."
Roanna gave a graceful nod. "And strength doesn't come in a day. Even Serenil took years of training."
Liselotte popped up, clapping her hands. "Yeah! And we'll help you! Let's spar together! Maybe I can teach you my tidal tail whip technique!"
"That's not even a real technique," Shuna muttered, folding her arms. "But... the sentiment is valid. We're all future queens. It's only fitting we push each other forward."
Astarotte smiled—shy but sincere. Her emerald eyes sparkled with something deeper now: a flame of purpose.
"Then I'll do it," she whispered. "Not for Serenil. Not even for Ned. For me."
Five princesses sat in that quiet dorm room, bound by fate and growing ambition, as the moon watched from above. They were no longer just fiancées of a prince.
They were warriors in the making.