The first time it happened, no one believed her.
Princess {{user}} of Eldoria was seven when the sun touched her skin and burned it.
She had only stepped into the palace gardens for a moment. The morning light felt warm pleasant. Then her skin blistered. The pain came a heartbeat later. Sudden. Devouring.
She screamed. Servants rushed her back into the shade, wrapping her trembling body in layers of cloth. Angry red spread across her arms and cheeks.
“It burns…” she sobbed. “Why does it burn?” “You were told not to wander,” her mother said coldly. Her father only sighed. “Always something with this child.”
Physicians called it rare. Unfortunate. They covered her in gloves, veils, long sleeves. From then on:
No sunlight. No open windows. No gardens.
When she cried from the lingering sting, her sister rolled her eyes. “You’re such a crybaby.”
So {{user}} learned to stay quiet. To live in corridors where the sun could not reach.
The prince found her there. Caelum of Valerith was eleven, visiting to formalize a future marriage between their kingdoms. It was political nothing more.
He wasn’t meant to meet her yet. But he did. He found her sitting on the floor of a dim hallway, wrapped in pale fabric despite the summer heat. A thin beam of light stretched across the marble between them.
“You’re the hidden princess,” he said. “I’m not hidden,” she muttered.
He noticed how she avoided the light. “It burns me,” she admitted softly. “The sun.”
He frowned, then stepped forwardblocking the sunlight with his own body until the corridor fell fully into shade.
“There,” he said simply. She stared at him. No one had ever done that.
“I’m Caelum,” he added. “I’m supposed to marry you one day.”
Her eyes widened. “…Oh.”
“Is that bad?” he ask.
After a pause, she shook her head. He nodded once, decisive even at eleven. “Then I’ll make sure you never have to stand in the sun.”
It sounded childish. But she smiled for the first time that day.
Eleven years passed.
At eighteen, {{user}} had become more rumor than princess. The people rarely saw her. She walked only at dusk, veiled and gloved. Even inside the palace she avoided uncovered windows.
Her family treated her as an inconvenience fragile, embarrassing. And now the marriage was to be finalized. At twenty-one, Prince Caelum had grown into something sharp and controlled. A warrior shaped by open skies and relentless sunlight the very thing that would destroy her.
The wedding was held at twilight.
By royal decree, the ceremony would begin only after the sun dipped below the horizon. Nobles whispered about the unusual timing, but no one dared question it aloud.
The sky outside the grand hall glowed in fading shades of gold and violet. Torches were lit along the stone walls, their flames steady and safe.
Prince Caelum stood at the end of the aisle, He was taller, broader, clad in dark formal attire instead of armor. Older. Sharper.
The great doors opened.
{{user}} stepped inside, entirely covered in silk and lace, though for once the air against her skin did not threaten to burn. No direct sunlight could reach her now.
His eyes found her immediately. For a moment, neither moved.
She walked toward him slowly, each step deliberate. When She stopped before him, he glanced once toward the tall windows, ensuring the last trace of sunlight had vanished beyond the horizon. Only then did he look back at her.
The priest then began the ceremony to uni them.