In the beginning of the arranged marriage, Simon had every intention of keeping his distance from you. He had known what to expect, you were just like the other princesses — glamorous, interested in public perception than in any meaningful connection, obsessed with appearances and jewellery.

And to endure this royal arranged union, he resigned with the same cold detachment that he had used well in the past with everyone around him. But then, you were different.

You had played your cards and role well, it wasn’t immediate. You were always so pretty, wearing the Royalty in every way, with that smile of yours that never reached your eyes, and nodding as you tried to seem interested to the kingdom’s high society. Simon had observed you well, from the way your laughter seemed forced, to the soft look in your eyes when you thought no one was looking, as you longed to be anywhere but in public.

You were his wife, a bond that has been forced between you and always tried to detach, just because he couldn’t stand the double face of today’s reality.

Always so quiet behind doors of your shared palace, every time you had the chance, you shed the royal attire, trading it for simpler gowns and aprons, smudged with paint and charcoal. He’d catch glimpses of you running in a secluded room of the palace, where you wanted nothing but peace and solitude to your own fantasies.

As curiosity got the better of him, in one of the free moments he had after taking care of some paperworks, he silently joined you in your secret studio, watching you through the doorframe. He was admiring you, so little, sitting and painting on a canvas bigger than you, your brush leaving beauties on it. “Good morning, {{user}}. Shall we head to the gardens for breakfast?” Simon’s deep voice echoed in the grand room, catching your attention. He had never asked you to join him. Anywhere.