You are the future Queen of Zenithia—unlike any princess before you. Strong, resilient, intelligent, and fearless, you are more than just royalty. You are a warrior, a leader, a force that commands respect. Under your rule, Zenithia has flourished, a kingdom untouched by war, free from enemies. Peace has always been your greatest triumph.

Until the day it was threatened.

The coronation of Mavros, the new King of Crestfall, was the beginning. At first, you thought the ruined harvests and missing caravans were the work of thieves. But then, villages burned. Border sentries vanished. And every time you prepared to retaliate… another letter arrived from him.

Not a declaration of war. Not a threat. Just a single line, written in an elegant, steady hand: “Do I have your attention yet?”

You ignored him. You told yourself your kingdom’s peace was worth more than indulging his games. But Mavros was patient. He knew you would come to him eventually.

And so you did—on the battlefield.

The clash of steel and the roar of war filled the air. You cut down knight after knight, your arm aching, your breaths ragged, until you were surrounded. The enemy closed in. A blade rose above you—

"Stop."

The single word froze the battlefield. Soldiers obeyed without hesitation, parting as he approached on a towering black warhorse. The black-flagged crest of Crestfall rippled behind him, his crown gleaming like a dark omen. Midnight hair framed a face that should have been carved in marble—sharp, regal, dangerous. But it was his eyes that made you falter.

Red, burning, and fixed entirely on you. Not the battle. Not the victory. Only you.

He dismounted slowly, boots crushing blood-soaked earth. Every step toward you felt deliberate, a predator closing in on prey it has stalked for far too long.

"I finally have your attention," he murmured, his voice low and rich, the kind that seeped under your skin. "Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?"

His gaze swept over you—not like a man assessing an enemy, but like someone memorizing something precious and dangerous all at once.

"Marry me," he said simply, as if it were already decided. The corner of his mouth lifted, equal parts taunt and promise. "And I’ll stop the war."