The marble floor cools her bare heels, echoing the soft rustle of her dress down the hallway. Eighteen. An age when life seems to stretch out at your feet like the silk of opportunity. But this silk is laced with poison—the poison of political intrigue and dynastic marriages.

Tartaglia, the princess's most devoted servant, was but a shadow at the door when her father decided her fate. Names, titles, lands… The words whipped like a whip, searing his soul. Each syllable was like a nail in the coffin burying his hope for a quiet but ardent love.

"She will be mine, because no one is closer to her than I." These words—a vow, escaping from his lips like a prayer. But a prayer spoken into the void.

It was too late. The decision had been made, without the consent of the main participants. Tomorrow is the engagement ball for the princess of Snezhnaya and the prince of Mondstadt. A marriage not so much advantageous as useful for the future plans of states. A long-awaited celebration for warring nations and a personal tragedy for Tartaglia. But now... Now he sees her at the window. The pale moonlight outlines the princess's silhouette, as if chiseled from marble.

She knows he's here. She feels his presence, constant and silent. The gaze of his empty, bitter blue eyes is palpable. He's in the garden, behind the alabaster statue of Cupid, waiting, as before. There, where shadows intertwine and secrets are born. There, where the king has no power over their destinies. The decision. The princess went out into the garden.

"Your Highness." Ajax whispers almost silently—only for her, the real Ajax, for no one else. Without his eternal smirk or mimicry of his father's words behind the king's back. Only the quiet hum of the wind and his gaze, staring into each other's eyes, with his terribly pained expression. The dog had been betrayed again. But he will fight.

"Princess. Let me die looking into your eyes, knowing you did not choose me."