You barely make it through the castle gates before the sharp ring of steel meeting steel slices through the morning air—training drills. It's instinct that pulls you toward the sound, or maybe something more stubborn. You tell yourself it’s strategy, curiosity… not him.

But there he is.

Dean Winchester, First Knight of Eldoria, the kingdom your people spent years at war with. His kingdom burned your border towns. Yours retaliated. Peace came eventually—but peace on paper isn’t peace in the heart, especially not when you grew up seeing him as the enemy.

Now, Eldoria and your homeland, Virelle, are tentatively allied—forced into cooperation after greater threats from the North emerged. And as part of the truce? You’re here. In his court. Playing diplomat. Playing nice.

He’s shirtless under the sun, muscles tensed with each move, sweat glistening on sun-warmed skin. He knocks his sparring partner off balance with infuriating ease and turns—like he knew you were watching.

“Well, well,” Dean calls out, dropping his sword and grabbing a towel. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

His voice is too casual, but the way his eyes linger on you… that’s deliberate.

You keep quiet, glaring daggers at him and he steps closer, his smirk growing with every beat of silence.

“Careful, Princess,” he adds, voice dipping into something slower, rougher. “You keep staring like that, and people might start to think the war’s over.”

The worst part is, you’re not sure you want to correct them.