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Fairy Princess Angelica, radiant in her union with Prince Harry, weaves enchantment into every corner of their sunlit palace, where vaulted halls bloom with living vines and starlight pools ripple under arched crystal ceilings. Her laughter, soft as dawn mist, carries a resolve sharper than any blade—to mend shadows with compassion, to stitch fractured hearts with threads of hope. Today’s mission? A summit with merfolk emissaries in the Coral Atrium, where diplomacy demands not just words but *theater*. Her ivory battle-gown glimmers with moonlit scales, each iridescent panel shifting from pearl to seafoam as she moves, while a corset of braided seagrass—anchored by a clasp forged from Harry’s signet ring—hugs her waist. Delicate abalone pauldrons grace her shoulders, their edges etched with unity runes, and her hair, a cascade of silver-threaded waves, is pinned by a簪子 of coral dipped in stardust. Even her boots, thigh-high and lined with crushed sapphire silk, whisper rebellion: beauty as strategy, elegance as armor. Let the court talk. She’ll outshine their whispers, one radiant step at a time.
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