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violet-stormbringer · 5 months

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The Princess and The Thorne, Chapter Four: The Winter Ball

Ras loved Autumn, especially near the end. That just meant it was closer to Winter, and that was her favorite season.

Outside, the Autumn season brought crisp, frost-edge leaves and a bright, fiery treeline to the mountains. Students donned cashmere scarves and woolen coats, and were allowed to wear heavier boots in order to step gracefully through puddles and fallen leaves. Whenever they finished their meeting, the Birchmeier Society was met with the night sky, thick with stars. Each time, Freddie exclaimed over the constellations dotting the sky above.

But the idyll didn’t last long. A storm kept Ras and her fellows awake one night, and everybody was groggy and sluggish on their way to the assembly. One of the ornamental cherry trees had lost a branch, and the Groundskeeper, Karson, was seen hauling the fallen branch away with a gardener. The leaves were mushy and slippery; more than one student slipping on them with a shriek.

Hartmann kept crackling sheets of notes in her blazer. “I’m announcing the Winter Ball this morning,” she whispered to Ras while they walked. “It’s the first time I’ve ever done it. It’s such an honor.”

Despite the honor, Hartmann looked pale. Gonzalez asked her if she was fine, and Hartmann claimed to be perfect well.

After the hymns and the usual announcements, Hartmann stepped up to the stage. “I’m pleased to announce the Winter Ball next month,” she said. “We shall entertain the Archambault Academy students and ensure they have a wonderful evening. Voting forms for the theme will be placed in common rooms, to be collected by the Prefect Commitee. Thank you, Lady Renaldt, for this marvelous opportunity to show just how welcoming Gallatin College can be.”

There was applause and excited cheering. Beside Ras, Gonzalez whooped. Hartmann sedately exited the stage.

Max leaned up against Ras, grinning. “Excited to see your one true love again, hmm?” Her tone was teasing.

Ras rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m excited to see Princess Rosario again. But not for any reasons you might think. She’s a nice lady to talk to, I’d like to be her friend.”

“I dunno…” Max teased. “After that confession of yours, I think you wanna be more than friends with her.”

Ras groaned. “Please don’t bring that up, there’s no way I’m in love with her after just one meeting…”

Max jostled Ras’ shoulder and the pair of them headed to class after the announcement. Later in the day, at a meeting with the Birchmeier Society, Lucien gathered the members around a table in the library.

"We're voting for turn-of-the-century glamour for the Winter Ball," he said. "It'll be appropriate for the Archambault people, and we’ll get to wear something nice and interesting. Plus, the Prefects should enjoy it since it’ll be traditional and appropriate."

Meanwhile, gossip was sparking about which of the other groups were voting for. The Gallatin Swans, the lacrosse team, were wanting traditional Hearthlight revelry with ballgowns and suits; The Prefects were officially impartial, but rumor was going about that Hartmann wanted a fire and ice theme; Max suggested a ghostly theme with the claim that her Starlings were behind her; and some students were gossiping about the Children of Hecate aiming for a fairy tale theme.

The common room ballots were carefully guarded when Ras arrived, and she was told that the voting would be completed with a great ceremony, and that someone was to count them in the middle of the night.

Lucien’s idea for turn of the century glamour was definitely interesting to Ras, though she wished she could’ve suggested a mythological theme. She would’ve loved to theme an outfit around one of Westerlind’s Heroes. She could imagine it now, a suit emblazoned with Erdrick’s Seal, accompanied by a crown accessory like he wore when he fought.

She shook her head, snapping herself out of her imagination, and she cast her vote. Lucien’s idea was interesting enough, no need to go against it.

When Ras returned to her dorm and lights-out was called, she listened to her fellow dormmates discuss the options, all until Mr. Griffith rapped on the door and sharply called for quiet.

“Unless you want a five o’clock start tomorrow.” He threatened, and that got everybody suddenly in the mood to go to sleep.

When the morning came, and it was time for the assembly, the college held its collective breath while Lady Renaldt opened an envelope to read out the theme for this years Winter Ball.

"I'm pleased to announce," she said, leaving an emphatic pause for suspense, "that we shall enjoy a historical theme for our Winter Ball at the end of the month. Preparations shall begin shortly."

As soon as the announcement was made, the obsession with themes translated into who would be escorting who to the ball. Notes were passed, friends were consulted, and whispers followed the more popular students down the corridors. Naturally, everybody was also interested in knowing who Ras would escort to the ball, whispering when they thought she couldn’t hear about who she’d invite; or who she wouldn’t invite.

“So.” Max said, leaning up against Ras after Philosophy one day. “You takin’ anybody to the ball? Oooor,” A pause, and a sharkish grin, “are you planning to go alone so you have the best chance of woo’ing your beloved Princess Rosario?”

Ras groaned, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Max, don’t you have things to do? People to invite?”

Max looked offended, putting a hand to her chest in a mocking gesture. “Ras! I’m hurt! I’m just looking out for my best friend!”

“By being a nuisance?”

“Would you have me any other way?”

Ras deflated, sighing in defeat. “...No.”

“Exactly!”

Eventually, Max relented in her teasing, and went on her way to invite her chosen partner to the ball, and she left Ras alone. Ras, of course, was going to go alone.

‘ Not because I want to spend time with Rosario, ’ she tried to justify it to herself. ‘ But because it’d give me a chance to stand out. I’d be able to talk to some of the others from Archambault, too, it wouldn’t just be Rosario. ’

With that, Ras made her choice, and excitement rose through the college. It was rumored that even Mr. Griffith said he didn’t find the idea as distasteful as usual; and everyone was talking about who was going to wear what to the ball.

The trip to Archambault was uniformed, but this was a more flamboyant affair. Bustles and corsets, along with frock coats and smoking jackets were the dress code for the occasion; guests were to wear masks, though how elaborate was usually left up to them.

Ras had decent evening wear in her wardrobe, but most of her more expensive clothing was sold after the incident involving her Mother, and she’d have to reach out to her Mother for extra money if she wanted something magnificent.

And unfortunately, she did. So she wrote a letter to home.

‘Dear Mother, As you are no doubt aware through our repeated correspondence over the year, the Winter Ball is approaching soon. In my various attempts to restore some semblance of cleanliness to our Family Name, I have made a significant amount of progress by socializing with the right people and keeping my grades as high as can be. In addition, I’m sure you will agree with me when I suggest that a proper outfit for this wonderful occasion would do much to improve our standing in the eye of the public. As such, I would request a tidy sum of money so that I may commission myself a suitable outfit for the Winter Ball. Your beloved daughter, Ras Thorne.’

Ras sent the letter out with the morning post, and spent the rest of her day in her classes, hoping against hope that her Mother would be able to spare a pittance for something Ras could wear.

When she awoke the next morning, Ras was approached by Mr. Griffith in the hall on her way to Philosophy. He passed a letter to her and bid her a good morning. The letter was marked with the Thorne Family seal, as well as a priority stamp. Her mother spared no expense in replying, at least.

‘Beloved Daughter, It was a pleasure and a relief to hear you were doing well. I could not be prouder of the work you’ve put in to restore our Family Name. In regards to your request, all you need do is send the tailoring bill to the address listed, and I shall see it paid in full. Regards, Matilda Thorne.’

Ras huffed as she folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket. At least her mother’s writing was as awkward as her own, and she’d been given leave to get herself an outfit for the ball.

It’d be hard to arrange a tailoring visit, but Ras managed to write to a tailor in Fenburg and put in an order. Many of her peers had the same idea, it seemed, for in the days leading up to the ball, more and more parcels arrived by courier, and the excitement was building.

Ras’ own parcel arrived with three days to spare, and she couldn’t have been happier with how it looked.

Ras had ordered a crimson-colored brocade smoking jacket with white culottes and a dark red mask with a feather attached to it. The left sleeve was missing, and instead attached to the left side of the jacket was a capelet matching in color to the jacket, upon which the Thorne Family sigil was emblazoned.

Max whistled when she saw the outfit. “Well, that’s going to look very smart indeed. Princess Rosario won’t know what hit her.”

By the time it was the week of the ball, most of the teachers had given up on their attempts to teach anything of substance, and instead allowed their students to read and review textbooks and previous tests. Until finally, the night of the ball was upon them.

During the day, the first snow of the year arrived, sending the younger students into paroxysms of excitement. At night, however, an odd, hushed feeling had descended upon the dormitory whilst everyone prepared; the noise and bustle had faded, replaced instead with a tense focus. Eventually, everybody was ready.

Dressed in a severe black suit and tails, Mr. Griffith led Clemency Dorm out. Delacroix and Max walked arm in arm, both wearing black; Max wore a close-fitting suit that was just on the edge of too scandalous, and Delacroix’s bustled gown was beated with jet in bewildering geometric patterns, making her glimmer as she moved. Hartmann fell into step beside Ras as they were led from the dorms in a procession towards the banquet hall.

A vast Hearthlight fir tree nearly reached the ceiling, covered with simple white candles. Wreaths bursting with berries were draped along the windows, and the scent of spiced fruit filled the air. The light from the chandeliers’ was warm and inviting.

Miss Dalca was wearing a long lilac gown with a daring asymmetrical neckline that made it look as if she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine; Mr. Blanchard wore a respectable suit and tails that looked similar to Mr. Griffith’s. Lady Renaldt presided over the hall from the teachers’ dais, wearing a sapphire blue gown.

Just as Ras was about to settle in with her fellows, the doors were thrown open and the Archambault students arrived, led by Lord Haberlin, who strode to the dais and bowed as though to a monarch.

“We are delighted to be here at Gallatin for this lovely little party,” he said, voice ringing across the hall.

“And we are delighted to return your hospitality for the wonderful dinner earlier in the term, Lord Haberlin,” Lady Renaldt replied, a cool smile on her lips.

With that, the duty of greetings was done, and it was time to mingle.

Princess Rosario wore a burnt umber gown and her hands were dripping with rings; a golden sheen sparkled in her dark, tightly-curled hair. Auguste Renaldt smiled graciously as she spoke to Mr. Griffith. She wore a perfectly tailored gown in a pale grayish blue that contrasted dramatically with her own dark skin.

The musicians struck up a stately waltz, and students moved to take their places on the dance floor. Ras caught Lady Renaldt’s eye, and with a formidable look from the Headmistress, Ras knew right away that the dance was not optional. Disappointing, but she figured as much.

Which only left the question, of course, who was she to dance with?

Not that it was a question, really. She took a deep breath, adjusted her tie and ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it and allowing many a few strands to fall out of place.

With a confident stride, she approached Princess Rosario, who was surrounded by an entourage of Archambault hangers-on. She was chatting away happily with said entourage, even as Ras approached. At her side, a heavyset, stony-faced woman stood, glowering at a hopeful Archambault student who’d been attempting to ask Rosario to dance.

“Princess Rosario will not be partaking in the dance,” she said in a low, flat tone that suggested the dance was a moral failing. “It’s not appropriate.”

Rosario sighed, taking a sip from her glass. “Ibarra, why do you never let me have any fun?”

“Because, your Highness,” she said in a tone that made it obvious this was an argument they’ve had before. “It is my duty to keep you safe.”

As they spoke, Ras began to rack her brains, trying to place something. Her frown must have caught their attention, because Ibarra cleared her throat.

“You there.” She spoke, her tone level. “Say your piece.”

That’s when Ras had it. She snapped her fingers, and gave a sly grin to Ibarra. “Correct me if I’m wrong, m’lady, but your accent. That places you from the north coast, does it not?”

A flash of surprise in Ibarra’s eyes, but she quickly collected herself and offered a nod, a small smile gracing her lips. “Indeed.”

“I’ve only ever had delicacies from that area, though I’d very much like to visit. Tell me, is the wine still as excellent as I recall?” Her tone was nostalgic and wistful.

“It is,” Ibarra nodded again. “In fact, my brother owns a vineyard in that region. He sends the Princess and I bottles of his latest to sample, and it is a treat every time.”

“Wonderful!” Ras smiled. “If I may have the name of your brothers vineyard, that I may procure some wine in the future?”

Despite herself, Ibarra’s smile returned, a bit wider, though still small. “Certainly.” With that, she pulled out a card, passing it to Ras who tucked it into her pocket with grace.

“Alas, while I would love to remain and discuss the pleasantries of wine, I fear I can feel Lady Renaldt’s gaze turning my back to stone. May I borrow the Princess Rosario for a dance?”

Ibarra’s expression cooled, and she looked Ras over before inclining her head, another smile gracing her lips. “You may. Enjoy yourselves.”

Rosario passed Ibarra her glass as Ras offered a hand to her, and while the two moved away, Rosario whispered to her.

“I’ve never seen anybody get by Ibarra so smoothly. Well done.”

“Nothing to it,” Ras admitted. “I was genuinely excited to meet someone from the North, and Ibarra seems a sweetheart. Just gotta remind myself she ain’t as scary as she looks.”

Rosario giggled at that. “Well, still, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Everyone's eyes were upon Ras and Rosario as the pair passed on their way to the dance floor. Rosario was a prestigious dance partner, of course; Lady Renaldt looked faintly dismayed, a thought that gave Ras a smug sense of satisfaction. Likely, Lady Renaldt had designs on Rosario for her daughter, Auguste. Unlike her, however, Ras’ motives were far less complex.

She was in love with Rosario. No she wasn’t. She wanted to be friends.

‘Face it,’ she thought to herself, the inner monologue dangerously close to becoming outer monologue. ‘You’re into her. Just roll with it.’

She hated arguing with herself, she was always both in the right and in the wrong. This time, she was in the right, and there was a part of her that was smug about it.

Rosario's dark eyes sparkled when she met Ras’ gaze, watching her with frank curiosity.

The pair made their way through the crowd of students, dodging elbows and occasionally pushing people out of their way.

They took their places, with Ras facing Rosario, head held high. The music struck up, and the pair began their dance.

As they danced, Ras moved closer to Rosario, tilting her head to show off her neckline and allow the Princess glimpses of her skin; shifting so that the other got a rather good look at Ras’ pale visage. Rosario’s eyes widened in surprise, and there was a faint blush on her face; she was surprised, but altogether flattered at Ras’ movements.

As the pair circled past the musicians, Rosario spoke. “Auguste told me about your family situation. I have to wonder, has it been difficult for you?”

Ras felt a tinge of irritation, and had to resist the urge to scowl. She really wished Auguste would mind her own damned business. She cleared her throat, and offered a smile.

“It has certainly been…interesting, being under so much scrutiny as a result of my Mother’s actions.” Ras admitted, and she kept her eyes focused on Rosario. “Alas, there isn’t much I can do about it, and I do rather wish people would keep to themselves on this subject.”

Rosario nodded. “I meant no offense, of course. My apologies.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Ras assured her, still smiling. “Let us just enjoy ourselves, yes?”

Rosario smiled in return, and more pleasant conversation was brought up as the pair danced the night away. Rosario’s beringed hand was warm on Ras’ shoulder, and when the pair parted, she looked back to Ras with a wistful expression.

“The dance was wonderful, Master Thorne. Thank you.”

Ras bowed her head gracefully, still smiling. “Worry not, the night is not over yet. We may yet share another dance before we must away.”

Before Rosario had chance to respond, Lady Renaldt called for silence before speaking.

"A marvelous Winter Ball dance," Lady Renaldt said, "and a wonderful entry in our winter tradition. Lord Haberlin and our illustrious teaching staff have been observing the progress of our Crème de la Crème competition, and I am pleased to note that Gallatin College is in the lead. May the finest college win!"

After a small round of applause, she went on to announce the next stage of the evening: a formal tour of the grounds, showing off the beauty of the Gallatin surroundings.

“The snow,” she said, “is perfect for tonight.”

Alongside Rosario, Ras was led in a procession to retrieve coats and scarves, ready to face the outdoor cold.

The groundskeeper, Karson, was in the cloakroom, briskly handing out warm clothes. She wore a simple black suit, her dark hair tied back.

Once Rosario had retrieved her coat and she joined the procession ahead, a teacher from Archambault pushed ahead of Ras. She was a middle-aged woman in a charcoal-colored suit, and she fixed Karson a disdainful glare.

“Karson, yes? The cashmere scarf. No, the green one.”

Karson ducked her head. “This one, Lady Serafin?” she asked, holding it out.

Lady Serafin let out a huff. “No. That’s obviously turquoise. What sort of staff is Lady Renaldt employing these days? Hurry it up, else I’ll tell her about your poor service.”

Karson’s face turned wan, and she murmured an apology as she passed the correct scarf.

Ras, however, was seething, and she couldn’t let this slide. She cleared her throat and spoke.

“Personally, I think Lady Renaldt would be more sorry to have invited a poor guest. What sort of woman takes her anger out on someone as kindly as Karson? You should be kissing the boots she polishes, not disparaging her for a mistake involving the color of your ridiculously gaudy scarf.”

Lady Serafin whirled around, eyes widened and mouth agape at Ras’ scathing commentary. She touched her hair and gathered the scarf to her chest. “Y-yes, well…” She spluttered, as if searching for a defense. Under Ras' scathing glare, she folded, and with a huff, she strode out, leaving Karson and Ras in peace.

Karson took a long and shaky breath. “I hate these special events, you know…” She spoke, her voice barely a murmur, yet filled with rage all the same. “A-At least normally it’s just the Gallatin lot, and they’re fairly kind. The Archambault ones are so much worse, though…Students and staff alike.”

“Honestly, I agree. Why do they have to be so…obnoxious?”

Karson snorted. “That’s…It’s nice to hear someone else say it. Thank you, Ras.”

A pause, then Karson’s lip began to tremble, then her face crumpled. She covered her face with her hands and burst into silent sobbing.

Ras took a deep breath, and from her pocket she pulled a handkerchief. Karson looked startled, but she took the handkerchief gratefully and wiped at her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” she muttered.

Ras only shook her head and wrapped her arm around Karson in a hug. “‘Swhat friends are for, y’know?”

Karson looked surprised, but she returned the hug. Her shoulders were trembling, as if she were about to burst into tears again. Then, she withdrew, a soft smile on her face.

“I don’t wanna mess up your outfit,” she said, voice quiet. With a glance at the students gathering in the quad, she spoke again, “You ought to go, Master Thorne. Thank you.”

Ras inclined her head at Karson, before gathering her coat and heading into the snow. Rosario caught her eye, and waved Ras over to her. Her breath steamed in the air as, in a brightly-colored procession, the students from both schools walked to the barouche carriages for a tour around the lake. The driver tipped their hat to Ras and Rosario, and the pair stepped aboard.

Rosario was shivering despite her heavy fur coat, and fumbled with the fastening as she stepped aboard. Just after Ras joined her, Ibarra entered as well, sitting down opposite of Rosario, a looking presence in the carriage with the pair. As the carriage began to move, Rosario groaned.

“You don’t have to come everywhere with me, Ibarra. It’s just a formal tour. What would happen here?”

“It’s my job, your Highness,” Ibarra said in a flat-tone that left no room for argument.

Rosario sighed, bundling up in her layers of clothing. “Sorry about this,” she whispered. “She’s being ridiculous, and she knows it.”

Ras chuckled. “Ah, it’s not so bad. I’m sure that once Ibarra warms up ‘ta me, she’ll allow us all sortsa freedoms.”

Rosario Rosario sighed, her breath a cloud in the cold moonlight. “It’s better than at home, at least,” she said, “but you’re right–I should be allowed to see more of the world while I can…”

“Under appropriate circumstances,” Ibarra muttered ominously.

“Ibarra! Stop eavesdropping!” Rosario snapped, then more quietly, she leaned against Ras and spoke. “Maybe we can arrange something at the next joint event…I’d love to make up for her nonsense.”

As the barouche wound around the lake, Rosario talked about her plans at the palace for Hearthlight; Zaledoan royal tradition involved the Crown Princess singing in front of hundreds of spectators. Rosario, surprisingly enough, was not pleased with this, and was not looking forward to it.

Meanwhile, the frozen lake sparkled in the moonlight; the snow giving everything an unreal, bluish cast. Beyond the college loomed the mountains, pale and huge in the distance, and Ras once again fantasized about scaling those mountains and declaring herself to the world below.

She was interrupted as the barouche paused, and a firework shot into the sky at the far edge of the lake, exploding into sparks. Rosario’s face shines in the golden light, gasps and applause ring out from the other carriages as more and more fireworks erupted.

“You know, I was wondering…” Ras whispered, leaning against Rosario. “...if you had any ideas on how you’d make it up to me, as you promised. We don’t have to wait…”

Rosario looked over to Ibarra, then back to Ras, and she nodded before she drew Ras closer to her, bringing her lips to Ras’ and smashing against them in a heated, passionate kiss. Rosario’s chattering teeth made it a little difficult to be too swept up in the moment, but Rosario was warm and enthusiastic; her hand resting lightly against Ras’ cheek before running her gloved fingertip round to the nape of her neck and sending tingles down Ras’ back.

When they parted, Ras looked over to see Ibarra looking pointedly at the treeline, a faint flush on her cheeks, entirely embarrassed at having watched the duo kiss. Rosario stifled a giggle behind her glove and rest her head on Ras’ shoulder as they watched the rest of the fireworks.

As the night came to a close, and the pair said their farewells, Ras was suddenly overcome with fatigue, and she was relieved when it was time to retire back to the dorms. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was unconscious.

The aftermath of the ball felt anticlimactic: everyone was exhausted the next day and none of them could muster any enthusiasm for the fact that Gallatin was in favor for the Crème de la Crème contest after the students' conduct for the evening. Ras’ dormmates’ demeanors ranged from grouchy restlessness from Max to constant yawning from Gonzalez. Some people buoyed up by the end of the term, while others were moody at the prospect of going home for the holidays. Suitcases were packed and hauled downstairs by porters; people constantly chattering about their holiday plans.

One morning when Ras was fetching her bag from the dormitory, she caught Hartmann meticulously folding her spare uniform into her suitcase. Her suitcase was only partially full, without many personal belongings inside: just clothes and her Athletics kit.

“Home soon,” she said, her tone neutral and guarded. “Are you looking forward to it?”

Ras groaned. “No. I really don’t want to go home and see my Mother. You know my situation, yeah? It’s bloody awful.”

"Mmm," Hartmann said, her tone bright and brittle. “That can be difficult indeed…”

Soon enough, the final day of the term arrived. Ras and the rest of the Gallatin students were herded by carriage, and then by train, to Fenburg. Just as when Ras had made this journey the other way, the platform was chaos: full of noise and bustle from hugs, tears, excited whoops, and reassurances about staying in touch.

Crowds upon crowds of Gallatin students poured from the train onto the platform, met by guardians and relatives. While Ras waited to disembark, she spotted a tired-looking Karson hauling a shabby suitcase from the guards’ carriage; she was on her way home too it seemed. Ras’ mother was, of course, nowhere to be found because the woman couldn’t bear to be on time for once. Fortunately, this meant that Ras had a moment to say goodbye to a friend or two before she eventually showed up.

Ras’ first choice, of course, was Max, who pushed off the rail she was leaning against to give Ras a hug, despite the large backpack she was hauling.

“See you again, Thorne,” she grinned as she reached up and ruffled Ras’ hair, “when we’re back in prison.”

Ras snickered. “Don’t forget the snacks this time, Meyer, sitting in my cell listening to you and Hartmann bicker like a married couple is worth at least a couple fistfuls of popcorn.”

Max’s only response was to stick her tongue out at Ras as she was called over by her own parents, waving a farewell to Ras as she walked.

Next, Ras picked out Freddie, who threw her arms around Ras in a big hug. “Have a good holiday, yeah?” She grinned.

“I’m more excited for what sorta things we’ll get up to when we get back.” Ras returned the grin. “I’m sure the Society has all kindsa secrets an’ stuff they’ll be willing to show us when we’ve proven keen.”

Freddie’s eyes widened, as if she hadn’t thought of that. “Goodness, I hope so. It all sounds so exciting!” A pause, as Freddie’s parents called for her. “Sorry, I have to go! See you back at Gallatin!”

Ras waved Freddie off, and then turned just in time to see her mother standing on the platform, watching her intently.

“Hello, Ras.” Matilda Thorne, Ras’ mother, stood before her. Her tone was as cold and detached as ever.

“Hello, Mama.” Ras struggled to meet the same level of coldness that was given to her, and her voice cracked almost imperceptively.

Unfortunately for her, that was still enough to displease Matilda, who let out a ‘tsk’. “Come.” She commanded, whirling around. “Our taxi awaits.”

Ras followed after, and kept her head low, doing her best to ignore the stares of those who recognized her mother.

This Hearthlight was going to be something, for sure.

#Crème de la Crème #Hannah Powell-Smith #Choice of Games #Tales of The Divine (Writing)#The Girl who became a Dragon (Ras Thorne)#The Princess and The Thorne

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