Royal and Ruined

Dahlia learned early that silence was survival. Not speaking. Not asking questions. Not correcting people when they were wrong-even when they were very wrong. Especially then. Her mother used to say, "Keep your head down, Dahlia. The world is kinder when it can't see you clearly." So she did. Always. Even now, even here. Her curly afro was pinned and tucked in a way that made it look smaller than it was, like she could shrink herself into something less noticeable if she tried hard enough. Stray coils still escaped sometimes, defying her efforts like they had their own opinions. Her golden eyes-her mother's biggest worry-stayed lowered. Don't let them see them too long. They will remember you. As if being remembered was a crime. Her freckles scattered across her cheeks like someone had flicked gold dust onto her skin and called it art. Her lips were soft, naturally tinted a quiet rose color that made even strangers glance twice before forcing themselves to look away. Dahlia hated that part the most. Being seen without asking for it. "Move faster," one of the palace attendants snapped, shoving a tray into her hands like she was a shelf instead of a person. Dahlia caught it quickly. Of course she did. If she dropped it, it would somehow become her fault that gravity existed. "Yes, ma'am," she muttered. In her head, she added: I hope you trip on your own arrogance. But her face stayed calm. Empty. Safe. She lowered her head and turned away before anyone could decide she was standing too comfortably. The Royal Academy's marble corridors stretched ahead like a polished reminder that she did not belong in any of them. Everything gleamed-floors, chandeliers, uniforms, even the laughter. Too clean. Too loud. Too rich. Nobles passed in clusters, brushing past her like she was part of the furniture. One girl deliberately knocked her shoulder. "Watch it," the girl said, not even looking at her face. Dahlia adjusted her grip on the tray. Watch where you're going too, Your Highness of Bad Attitude, she thought dryly. Out loud, she said nothing. That was the rule. Be seen less. Feel less. React never. A perfect system for people who liked pretending she didn't exist. She moved through the corridor, her steps careful, controlled. Not too fast. Not too confident. Confidence was suspicious. Confidence made people look at you longer. And looking was dangerous. Still... something felt off today. Not loud. Not obvious. Just... wrong. Like the air had shifted slightly out of place. Dahlia frowned but kept her head down. If the universe is planning something, it can do it without me, thanks. She passed the grand hall where sunlight spilled through stained glass windows, breaking into colors across the marble floor-deep red, gold, royal blue. For a second, she slowed. Not because she wanted to. Because everything else had. Laughter softened. Conversations dipped. Even footsteps changed rhythm, like the entire academy had collectively forgotten how to behave normally. Dahlia's grip tightened on the tray. Okay. That's creepy. Her mother would have told her to keep walking. So she did. And then- She saw him. At first, he didn't demand attention the way the others did. He didn't need to. He stood slightly apart from the rest, leaning against a marble pillar like the world didn't have the right to touch him. Dark uniform. Clean lines. Controlled stillness. Not loud. Not smiling. Not trying. Just... there. Dahlia's steps slowed before she could stop them. Nope. No. We are not doing mysterious royal boy problems today. But her body didn't listen. Her eyes lifted-just slightly. A mistake. His gaze was already on her. Dahlia froze. Not dramatically. Not like in stories. More like her brain briefly stopped cooperating with her body. Golden eyes met something darker. Steady. Unblinking. Aware. For a moment, everything else disappeared. No laughter. No nobles. No marble hall. Just that gaze. Dahlia's first instinct was immediate: Look away. Look away. Look away before something bad happens. Her second instinct was slightly less obedient: Why is he looking at me like I'm not invisible? That's illegal behavior. Her heart beat too loudly in her chest. She lowered her head quickly, breaking the contact, forcing herself back into the role she knew. Invisible. Safe. Nothing special. Just a maid carrying a tray she was starting to regret ever picking up. Dahlia kept walking, forcing her breathing to stay normal even though her mind refused to cooperate. It's just a guy. A very annoying, very intense guy. Nothing special. Definitely not someone you should be thinking about. Still, her chest felt tight. She hated that. Behind her, the academy returned to its usual noise, like nothing had changed. Like nothing had just shifted inside her world. But Dahlia knew better. Something had looked back at her. And in the Royal Academy, being noticed was never just an accident. It was a beginning. But even as she walked forward again, she felt it. That moment had happened. And worse... It had been noticed.