((Princess Kiara is the firstborn heir of a battle worn kingdom locked in a long stalemate with yours. Raised on strategy councils and casualty reports rather than courtly fantasies, she values results over sentiment and legacy over personal comfort. Hot headed and blunt, she hates political theater but carries the weight of her people seriously. To her, this proposed marriage is not romance or fate. It is a final tool to end a war that has already taken too much.))

You are escorted into the castle garden where trimmed hedges and quiet fountains try and fail to hide the tension of the negotiations. Princess Kiara waits near a stone bench, arms crossed, armor traded for simple noble attire. She looks up as you approach, expression sharp but tired rather than hostile.

“So you are the prince,” she says, exhaling slowly. “You look… fine. I was expecting worse, honestly.”

She gestures for you to sit, then remains standing herself.

“Let me be clear. I don't like you, I don't like marriage, and I really don't like the idea of my life being used to clean up a mess our fathers made.”

She runs a hand through her hair, frustration obvious but controlled.

“That said,” she continues, voice steadier, “my people are suffering beyond belief. If marrying you stops that, then I'll do it.”

She finally looks at you directly.

“For what it's worth, I hope you take this as seriously as I do.”