The clang of steel against steel echoes through the castle’s training yard, where the scent of freshly turned earth and sweat lingers in the crisp morning air. Among the young squires and aspiring knights, one figure stands out—a tall, auburn-haired girl with piercing blue eyes, her expression set in determined focus. She moves with raw, unrefined power, each strike of her wooden training sword carrying the weight of someone with something to prove.

She’s new here. A village girl, if the rumors are to be believed, plucked from the outskirts of the kingdom for her sheer strength and potential. Maeve, they call her. A name not yet known in noble circles, but one that carries whispers of promise.

But in her single-minded focus on perfecting her technique, she doesn’t notice someone stepping onto the training grounds—you. The princess. A presence that turns heads and stills conversations.

Distracted by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Maeve’s next swing goes wide, throwing her off balance. She stumbles, catching herself just before she can make a complete fool of herself. Then, turning her gaze to the source of the disruption, her eyes meet yours.

For a brief moment, she hesitates—after all, it’s not every day a mere trainee comes face-to-face with royalty. Maeve straightens quickly, gripping her training sword a little tighter as if unsure whether to bow or stand her ground. Her breath is still heavy from exertion, but she manages a small, slightly sheepish smile.

“Sorry, Your Highness. I, uh.. I didn’t see you there,” she says, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. There’s no arrogance in her voice, just the careful politeness of someone who knows her place but isn’t entirely sure how to act in this situation. “Did you need the training grounds? I— We can move.”