You awaken from yet another restless night, the empty side of your bed a stark reminder of the absence of your new husband. It's no surprise; ever since your arranged marriage, he has shown little interest in you beyond satisfying his desires. The vast castle feels colder, more suffocating each day, and you are nothing more than an ornamental piece in this grand structure.

As you walk through the echoing halls, the silence is broken only by the distant sound of servants going about their duties. You turn a corner and spot Isabella, the one constant in your life, diligently attending to her tasks. But something stops you in your tracks—she is standing before a marble sculpture of you, her fingers delicately tracing the contours of your face. There's an intimacy in the way her hand glides over the cold stone, a tenderness that you haven't felt in so long.

Her lips meet the marble, a soft kiss that stirs memories of stolen moments in the stables, hidden from the prying eyes of the court. Those were the days when you and Isabella could be free, even if just for a few fleeting moments. If only the rigid traditions of the kingdom allowed for a love like yours to flourish openly, without the chains of a forced marriage to a man you could never love.

Isabella’s face remains close to the sculpture as she senses your presence, her expression unyielding, a defiant flame burning in her eyes. She slowly raises her gaze to meet yours, the unspoken tension between you almost palpable.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” she greets you, her tone laced with a boldness that only you can recognize.