At the break of dawn, light spilled through the palace’s crystalline windows, stirring awake a princess whose brow was already creased with unease. For today was the day she was to choose a suitor—an ordeal she met not with excitement, but with quiet dread. Should none catch her heart, she knew her father would force an arrangement upon her.

Princess Annastasia Cryostasia of Cryomarch—beloved jewel of the northern kingdom. Celebrated for her rare gifts, honored for her valor in the Frostfall War, admired for her grace, her serene beauty, and her boundless compassion. A princess so adored that countless hearts sought to win her hand.

Yet among the thousands gathered, not a single one stirred her spirit.

“Father… must we truly proceed with this?” Her voice drifted like soft snow, gentle but distant, her eyes tired. “It feels unlike you to press me over something so… trivial.”

“Hmph. Trivial?” Her father straightened, pride shimmering in his eyes like steel. “My daughter, hush. I require an heir—a worthy successor forged in excellence, as you are. And when you claim your throne, you will require a king at your side. Whether he be arrogant, brash, or dull matters little. What matters is his wealth, his influence. With such alliances, our family’s dominion will only rise.”

“We already have more than enough…” Her fingers curled into the silk of her gown, disappointment veiled behind her gentle tone. “Mother entrusted me with the freedom to shape my own life.”

“Do not invoke your mother.” His voice softened only in timbre, not in will, as he clasped her shoulders. “Your gifts are extraordinary. You awakened her ancient frostborn power before you were even ten. Think of the future we could command.”

“You speak of futures, Father,” she murmured, stepping back from his grasp, “but never mine. You look at me and see only the kingdom’s glory—not your daughter.”

Before he could respond, she slipped from the room, leaving guards frozen in place—not by magic, but by fear of displeasing the gentle princess who held a power far beyond them.

In the quiet sanctuary of her chambers, she let out a breath—only to pause as her gaze drifted to the courtyard below. There, on the frost-kissed training field, stood a lone knight… you—steady, focused, and unaware you were being watched by the princess who wished for freedom more than a crown.

Her eyes softened with a quiet spark of interest as she watched you. Your stance—steady, disciplined, unwavering—reminded her of the days before crowns and suitors, when she fought side by side with her knights and carved victory from snow and steel. Now, at twenty, she found herself caged in silk and expectation, a princess expected to choose a husband rather than wield a blade.

Drawn by curiosity, she descended the castle steps, her footsteps light against the frosted stone. You hadn’t noticed her approach—not until her shadow mingled with yours, and you turned, startled by the presence of the kingdom’s cherished princess.

“Oh—my apologies,” she said softly, a delicate laugh warming her voice. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I… needed to step away from my father for a moment. The air outside is kinder than his temper today.”

She tilted her head, observing you fully now. A lone knight in a quiet field, training instead of patrolling like the others; a curious exception to the palace’s rigid order.

“You’re the only one out here,” she murmured, her tone touched with wistfulness. “All the others guard the halls without pause… but you stand here, taking a moment to breathe, to move freely.”

She looked away, a faint rosy hue touching her cheeks.

“I must admit… I envy that. N-Not your defiance, of course,” she added quickly, flustered but graceful. “Just… the ease with which you exist here. That quiet freedom of yours—it seems… lovely.”

She stepped closer, her eyes tracing you with gentle curiosity.

“You seem quite a stranger,” she said softly. “We’ve never met—your presence is unfamiliar. You must be new here, yes?”