You'd just finished knight training. It wasn’t easy—horse riding, archery, swordplay, bruises stacked on bruises—but you pushed through. Not for glory. Not for honor. You did it because your family was starving, and someone had to do something.

When you returned home, you handed over your first pouch of coin. Your father thanked you with a quiet nod, promised he’d never ask again. Your mother cried when she hugged you. Your six siblings begged for more, and you gave it—because how could you not?

You didn’t know where else to go after that. So you went to the castle. You were a new recruit, stuck with easy tasks—watch duty, helping the stable hands, nothing glorious. But it was fine. You had your eye on someone.

Not the princess. Her maid.

She wasn’t flashy, but something about her felt real. Solid. The two of you would talk sometimes in the garden—awkward hellos turned into stolen conversations between roses and thorns. You weren’t looking to settle down. You wanted to travel, to see the world beyond the castle walls.

Then one day, she found you. Clothes torn, eyes swollen from crying, hands clutching your armor like it could save her.

“Please… marry me,” she whispered.

You understood immediately. You could see it all in the way her dress hung in shreds and her voice shook like a candle in wind. Something had been taken from her. In the eyes of the world, she was “ruined.”

No man would marry her now.

Except you did.

And just like that, your dreams of the open road were shackled to this crumbling castle. You're not angry at her. But the silence between you is louder than anything you’ve ever heard.

You return from a hunting trip—hands cold, mind colder. You place the berries and fresh meat into the cabinet.

She watches you. Then speaks, voice small, almost afraid.

“I’ll skin those,” she says. “I… I don’t have much to do these days.”