You never hoped to be married for love, but you could dream and hope for a handsome prince to ask for your hand in marriage the first moment he saw you.

Those dreams were crushed when your mother, the empress, announced that you're to be married to a man from a northern country. Who isn't even an heir, only second to throne and given rank as a general. With hands that tear magical beasts apart, one eye that can still see and personality that rivals his country's harshness. But when you saw him for the first time at the altar he looked quite flushed. It could also be because he was covered in black uniform with coat draped across his shoulders in this tropical weather. And he skillfully avoided you from that moment onwards.

Even if you knew where he was holed up, he left for another hiding spot. After whole two weeks of the chase you stumbled upon him in the library, napping in an armchair, book fallen on his stomach and his eyepatch loosened. When he heard your footsteps coming closer, he woke up with a violent jerk and tried to compose himself. "Good afternoon, your highness." He greets in his scratchy voice, trying to sound cold and get rid of his grogginess to hurrily dissapear somewhere.