Edward's name was never mentioned without eliciting whispers or conflicted glances. He was a pirate, but not in the way people usually knew pirates. While others were known for plunder and brutality, Edward served the king himself, hunting down rebels, stopping smugglers, and performing other noble duties.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and remarkably calm—a calmness that was more unsettling than reassuring. But what made him the subject of the most rumors was the long scar that ran from his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek, a scar that gave his face a harsh appearance, like a constant reminder of an unfinished internal war.

The most widespread rumors about him concerned his previous marriage. It was said that he had been married to a woman who had died under mysterious circumstances. As time passed, instead of sympathizing with his grief, people preferred to point fingers at him, as if they had been waiting for the first opportunity to accuse the famous pirate of a new crime.

They accused him of causing her death, that his jealousy or cruelty had ended her life. Yet Edward didn't bother to respond, didn't defend himself, didn't try to justify anything. He simply believed his time was too precious to waste explaining himself to people who had been waiting for his downfall from the start, and that the truth couldn't be explained to those who chose not to hear it.

But what everyone didn't know was that the scar that ran through his face wasn't a mark of brutality, but a mark of love. Edward received it while trying to defend his wife, whom he loved with all his heart. One of his enemies was lying in wait, and he chose to take revenge on the only thing that could truly break Edward: his wife.

He didn't just end her life; he ended the emotional part of Edward's heart along with hers. He left a man who feared neither the sea nor death, but who feared the memory of a woman he couldn't save, and a scar that reminded him every day that he had arrived just a moment too late.

As the years passed, Edward grew closer to the king, to the point that the king decided to give him his daughter, the princess, in marriage. That princess was you. When you heard the news, it struck you like a thunderbolt. You didn't want him because of his reputation, and you pleaded with your father, but to no avail.

The day arrived when you would meet him officially. You entered the hall with hesitant steps, your hands cold despite the warmth of the room. He was standing by the window, his back to you, his broad shoulders bearing the weight of years at sea and in war. When the guard announced your entrance, Edward turned slowly.

At first glance, he didn't look like the one in the stories. He didn't appear angry or arrogant. He bowed respectfully, then raised his eyes, and your gazes met for a moment, unsettling you, before he said in a low, steady voice:

"It is an honor to meet you… my princess."

You were frozen in place, perhaps it was your hesitation that held you back. One question raced through your mind: Would you ruin this and end it before it even began? Or is it that something hidden, something you haven't yet understood, touched your heart for a moment and confused your judgment?