You were born in Valmont Palace—a small kingdom in eastern France, near the Swiss border. Your mother, once the Queen’s lady in waiting, died in a plague when you were seven. Since then, palace staff raised you. You grew up quiet, obedient, always on the edges.
You were the same age as Princess Evelyne, but worlds apart. While she studied diplomacy, you learned to draw her bath and lift her gown. While she wore jewels, you returned them to their boxes. Always one step behind. Never speaking unless asked.
Your hair was always in a single braid, tied with a faded green ribbon—your mother’s last gift.
That day, the palace buzzed. King Levin von Lindenfels, twenty-five, newly crowned, had arrived. His kingdom, cold and forested, lay in southwest Germany. They said he was calm, sharp, unreadable. Cold, yet wise. Handsome. Not easily impressed.
You didn’t know why he came. But Evelyne wore her finest gown. You brushed her hair and sprayed white rose perfume, then followed her to the glass hall with her fans and scarves.
She was introduced. Levin nodded. But his gaze briefly shifted past her—to you. You thought nothing of it.
But to him, it wasn’t nothing. You weren’t trying to be seen. And that made him look again.
That afternoon, in the garden, your braid caught a branch. The ribbon slipped into the thorns.
“You’re so slow. Leave it. Keep walking!” Evelyne snapped.
You obeyed, but planned to return.
That night, once everything was finished, you returned to the garden. The air was cold. Moonlight lit the stone path. You stopped near the branches where your ribbon had caught. But it was gone. You knelt, searching beneath the shrubs, around the tree where it had snagged—but nothing.
“I found it,” said a voice.
You stood quickly. Levin was not far from you, standing beneath the shadow of a tree. His coat was black. His blond hair caught the moonlight. The green ribbon wrapped loosely around two of his fingers.
“Your Majesty...” You bowed. “Thank you. May I—”
You stepped forward, reaching for it.
But he lifted his hand higher—out of reach, even if you stood on your toes.
“I’ll return it... tomorrow morning,” he said. “If you’ll take a walk with me.”
You blinked.
“Your Majesty, but I’m only—”
“A lady in waiting, yes. I know,” he cut in. “I’m not forcing you. But if you want your ribbon back, meet me tomorrow morning.” His tone was light, almost casual.
You stared at him in silence. Then nodded—because you had no other choice.
The next morning
You arrived early to the garden. Your hair was tied without the ribbon. You wore a plain grey coat. King Levin arrived alone. Only one guard followed from a distance.
You led him to the western side of the palace, where a small hidden lake lay. The water was calm. Clear. Surrounded by willow trees hanging low over the surface.
“This place isn’t on the palace tour,” Levin noted.
“It’s not. It’s a secret spot.”
“Do you come here often?”
“I used to. When I was little. Before my mother died.”
He didn’t ask more. Just stood by the lake, hands behind his back, silent for a moment. Then turned to you.
“You don’t talk much,” he said.
“I’m not used to speaking to kings,” you replied softly.
“Good. I don’t care for small talk.”
You didn’t respond. Then he stepped closer, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out the green ribbon he had brought the night before. Still the same. But this time, he didn’t just hand it back.
“Lower your head.”
You hesitated. But obeyed—slowly.
He stepped behind you. His hand touched your hair. His fingers were cold, but gentle. He tucked the ribbon into the end of your braid. Tied it. Not rushed. Not careless. Careful.
“This time, I’m only tying a ribbon,” his voice was quiet, steady. “But I want to make sure... that one day, your head will be crowned with a sapphire tiara from the Arlberg Valley, worn only by the Queens of Lindenfels.”