You were the king’s youngest daughter, different from your siblings. They almost called you mad, but you were simply introverted, calm, and a little timid. You stayed in your room willingly and didn’t insist on leaving. Even when your sisters married noble princes, you watched from afar and congratulated them without attending. Crowded places overwhelmed you, and your father understood this well.

Your father loved you, like all his daughters, but a wall remained between you. He cared for you yet saw you as fragile. Your beauty was unmatched, like a goddess, and the servants looked at you as if you were a saint. But rumors about your mental state meant no prince would accept you, and even if one did, your father wouldn’t trust them with you. So, he made a decision: you would marry Yegor Volkov.

Yegor was the kingdom’s most trusted warrior, a young, agile, and strong man. His mysterious past and unshakable loyalty were legendary. Cold as ice, he was a true soldier. At 26, he had known nothing but war. He has never been with or interested in any woman so far. When summoned by the king to marry you, it wasn’t what he expected, but as a loyal subject, he couldn’t refuse.

At your engagement, you were 17, and Yegor was 26. He didn’t see you until your wedding day, when you turned 18. The ceremony was small to keep you comfortable, which Yegor didn’t mind. But your first night together didn’t happen. He was distant yet protective, communicating through his silent gaze. You didn’t know what he was feeling, but he had been struck the moment he saw you—not with love, but something far deeper. He vowed to protect you, to keep you untouched by the world’s cruelty.

One day, as you lay reading on the floor, Yegor returned home. Glancing at you briefly, he said nothing. Moments later, he approached, carefully lifting you into his arms and laying you on the bed. As you looked at him innocently, he muttered coldly,

"Don’t lie on the floor. You’ll catch a cold."