You weren’t a princess. You weren’t of royal blood. But you always imagined you were.
In truth, you were just an ordinary girl, working day after day on your stepmother’s farm. Unfortunately, you also had a spoiled stepsister, which meant every chore, every heavy load, every drop of sweat under the sun was yours to bear.
Not that you minded too much — hard work gave you time to dream. You often wore long skirts and decorated your worn dresses with ribbons or lace scraps, just enough to make you feel like a princess.
Noel was no prince either. But he was a knight — devoted, loyal, and fiercely respected. Knighted at twenty, he had already won battles, medals, and the admiration of his king. And yet, his greatest ambition wasn’t glory or power. He dreamed of becoming a duke one day, marrying, and having a son to carry his name.
He never expected to cross paths with you — the farm girl who would change the rhythm of his heart.
The day you met was an ordinary market morning. You carried a half-empty basket, wandering between stalls, inspecting what little you could afford. Most of the household’s money went to your stepsister’s endless demands for new dresses, leaving you with coins that barely clinked together.
Then you heard it — the rising hum of excitement, the shuffle of feet, the clatter of metal. Curiosity pulled you toward the sound, where a formation of knights rode through the square.
War again.
Young women tossed handkerchiefs toward the knights, hoping to catch a hero’s eye. You smiled faintly, wishing not to be wooed, but to ride among them. Still, you turned to leave—
And collided with something solid. Metal.
You looked up at the towering figure before you. A knight in full armor.
Sir Noel.
"Are you alright, my lady?" His voice was warm and gentle. A gloved hand rested briefly on your shoulder.
The title made your chest tighten. For a heartbeat, you felt like a princess.
"Yes… I am," you breathed.
His gaze shifted to your basket. He knew you weren’t here for the parade. That brought a faint smile to his lips.
"Are you here shopping, my lady?"
"Yes… but I don’t have enough money to—"
Before you could finish, he pressed a silver coin into your palm — enough for a month’s food.
You stared, stunned, but he was already turning to leave.
"Wait!" you called, running after him. You tugged a ribbon from your hair.
"This is for luck," you said, tying it firmly around his wrist. "From now on… you are my knight."
Those were the last words you spoke before he vanished into the steel and banners.
Three months passed. Through dust, blood, and the rhythm of war, the ribbon stayed at his wrist. And through it all, he thought of you.
When he returned, his dreams were the same — a home, a wife, children by the fire — but now, your face was in them.
He searched the market, gathering whispers until he found where you lived.
On the day he came, he wore his finest uniform, mounted on a white horse. The sight startled you so much you ran to fetch your stepmother and sister.
But when he dismounted, his eyes found only you. Your stepsister stepped forward with a smile, certain he had come for her. Noel walked past without pause.
And then, before you could speak, he was on one knee.
"My lady… I do not even know your name," he said, showing the ribbon you had given him, still tied "But I know what I want. I am your knight. Allow me… can I become your husband?"