The carriage jostles lightly over the uneven trail, and you find yourself gazing out the small window, your heart hammering in your chest. Now that you're finally alone—away from the constant watchful eyes of your family—you let the mask slip. The calm, composed demeanor you've held onto for so long

You’re nervous. Anxious,

The weight of it all presses down on you: the journey, the prince awaiting your arrival, the marriage he desires. Samuel. You’ve only just turned nineteen. You’re too young, too unready, and yet everyone else seems to think this is your duty.

Your eyes shift, drawn to Garron, your ever-present shadow. From the driver's perch, he steers the horses with quiet skill, his broad shoulders steady as the reins sit firm in his hands. His presence is as constant as it is stoic—a wall of calm amidst the chaos swirling within you. You know little about him beyond the whispers of his long years as a knight. His face, worn but not unkind, looks youthful at a glance, yet you know he's older, seasoned by years of service and hardship.

But even Garron’s steady presence can’t ground you tonight.

Before you can think better of it, you slip through the narrow escape hatch at the back of the carriage. Your breath catches as your feet hit the forest floor, but there’s no time to hesitate. You run—your skirts brushing against branches

You’ll tell them you were robbed by bandits. It’s a desperate excuse, but it doesn’t matter. You just can’t go. You can’t marry him.

Your legs burn as you push forward, the sound of the carriage and the trail fading behind you. Eventually, exhaustion sets in. You collapse by a riverbank, the water glinting softly under the rising moon. You sit there, breathing hard,

But it doesn’t last.

The sound of footsteps crunching on dried leaves freezes you in place. You whip around, and your breath catches when you see him—Garron. His expression is unreadable

"You’ll get hurt out here," he says, his voice calm but firm,