The Morning in Ivanova broke gently, the sun spilling golden light across the polished marble floors of the royal palace.
Birds chirped softly beyond the gardens, their song faint but persistent, weaving through the tall windows that framed the courtyard.
Servants moved with quiet efficiency, their soft footsteps echoing against the high ceilings as breakfast was laid out in the great dining hall.
The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the warmth of brewed herbs, floating lazily into the corridors beyond.
Ariana entered the hall with measured grace, her red hair catching the light and glowing like embers among the gilded surroundings.
She wore a simple gown of pale blue, trimmed with silver that shimmered faintly in the sun's first rays.
She walked with her usual composure, but a subtle tension threaded through her movements, one that could be noted immediately.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Serena said, setting a tray before her with practiced care.
