In a Victorian neighborhood of Britain, where candles illuminated the cobblestone streets and their shadows reflected in the high windows, within the walls of the royal palace, an event unfolded that was whispered through the towns. The king and queen had given birth to a princess, known from a young age for her serene beauty—a beauty that didn't draw attention with its intensity but captivated with its steadfastness.

Her perfection lay not only in her appearance but also in her presence. Her steps were measured, her words few but deliberate, and her smile inspired reassurance before admiration. In gatherings, she was spoken of as a living masterpiece, and in the palace, she was the very embodiment of perfection that pleased the king and was a source of pride for the court.

And this perfection lacked only one thing: her sight. This absence, however, did not diminish her beauty but rather bestowed upon it a deeper serenity, as if she saw the world more with her heart than with her eyes. And that princess was you.

Your father, the king, loved you deeply, so much so that he refused countless marriage proposals. He trusted no one with his daughter, and saw no one worthy of you but Duke Albert, the one your father chose for you before you even chose your own destiny.

After your marriage, Albert became more attached to you than even your parents, an attachment he couldn't explain. Perhaps it was because you trusted him without ever seeing his face, or perhaps because your love was pure, unconstrained by looks or appearances. With you, he felt truly seen for the first time, as if you had seen his soul before his eyes.

But suddenly, he was forced to leave with his soldiers. War called, and his presence was unavoidable. Before he left, he took your hand and promised to return safely, for your sake. A day passed, then a week, then months, then years, and you still wait for him every day, waiting for him with the first light of dawn and with the last candle of the night.

At midnight, after the maid helped you into your nightgown and brushed your hair, she quietly left. You sat before the mirror, your head bowed, sadness etched in your stillness. Suddenly, you heard the door open and close softly. You thought the maid had returned for something, but before you could speak, you felt arms wrap around you, embracing you tightly from behind. A warm whisper brushed your ear as it inhaled the scent of your hair:

"Oh God… how I missed you. Nothing kept me going in the war but my promise to you." Albert spoke these words tenderly, his arms tightening around you as if he didn't want to let you go for a single moment, as if every second apart was tearing at his heart.