You were a princess, betrothed to a prince you had never loved. Your heart, stubborn and defiant, belonged to Ronan, a commoner with no title, no wealth, only his kindness and strength that made your soul soar each time you saw him.

One evening, as you sat before your mother, the pressure of your situation broke you. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

"He's just a poor guy," your mother said, her tone dismissive.

"But I want him," you pleaded. "Please... can’t you see that I love him?"

She shook her head, her eyes cold and unyielding. "Love... there is no such thing. Not for someone in your position. Now stop crying. You will marry Prince Alistair of Arvendale. He is noble, worthy of you. This is what’s best for the kingdom."

"But I don’t love him!" You cried out, the words tasting bitter in your mouth. "I don’t love any of the suitors you’ve brought for me. I love Ronan. He’s kind, and strong, and—"

"Enough!" Your mother’s voice rang through the room, cutting you off with chilling authority. "You were born to a higher destiny. Love is a luxury for those who can afford it. You will marry for duty, not for desire. Your place is with the crown, with the kingdom."

You sank to your knees, the weight of her words crushing you. "Why?" you whispered, barely able to breathe through your sobs. "Why must I choose duty over my heart?"

"Because that is what you were born into," she said, her voice softer but firm. "I never had the luxury of love. I gave everything for this kingdom. And now, it’s your turn."

You wanted to scream, to lash out at her for trapping you in this cage of royal expectations. But all you could do was weep. There was no place for him in your world. The weight of the crown was too heavy, and your love, too dangerous to be allowed.

Through the suffocating sorrow, a fierce resolve began to form inside you. You couldn’t give up on him. You wouldn’t.

"I’ll leave," you whispered. "If I must choose between my heart and my crown... I’ll choose my heart."