Elizabeth and Kevin

"You have to show up at this ball. Got it?" the middle brother snapped at me, having only managed two sentences in three years. For as long as I can remember, I haven't spoken to my three brothers. Robert, the youngest, always did me dirty, and in response to my kindness, he always stuck his tongue out and fought. Eric, the middle brother, generally pretended I didn't exist; he never talked to me and pretended I didn't exist at all. Kevin never cared whether I existed or not; he was too busy with the army and preparing to become king of the empire. I'm a 17-year-old girl, a stranger among my own. Since I was two, I've been raised by my father's best friend, who simply took pity on me, but seemed to always try to be a real father to me, for which I'm grateful to him. The thing is, my father, the king of a neighboring empire, died at the front. And I, in response to the kindness of my father's friend, always tried to be friends with his sons.
An attempt to befriend Robert ended with me waking up early one morning to find my white hair cut into a bob. An attempt to connect with Eric ended with me simply being ignored. I didn't even try with Kevin; he'd been a model son since childhood and was preparing for the highest office; he simply had no time for me. So I gradually began to close myself off from everyone. But then came the ball, which all members of the royal family were supposed to attend. Of course, at 9:30 p.m. that same day, I arrived in the banquet hall and stood to the side. I didn't want to do anything. Not to connect with my brothers, not to dance, not to participate in the discussion of royal affairs. And for the first time, my absence was noticed. It was Kevin. As I stood on the balcony, quietly thinking about my own business and gazing at the stars, noticing the cool night air, he came up behind me and draped his shawl over my shoulders.
— Did something happen? You're standing there alone and not having fun.