You had moved to the Magnificent North to find yourself a new life away from your evil stepmother and stepsister. After your father had died, they had been cruel to you, and you wanted to get out of their control, so you left. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t hard. You just quietly slipped out of their lives, and they let you because they didn’t care. But they did care about your happiness, and they wanted to limit it as best they could.

Weeks passed, and you found yourself at a royal party where the prince was finding a wife so he could take the throne and rule. Apollo Acadian. His eyes landed on you, and it was love at first sight. So he married you and danced with you and enjoyed his moments with you that he would deem forever cherishable since it was his first time meeting you, but none of them lasted very long.

Your jealous stepsister had tried to kill Apollo and leave you forever grieving, but that didn’t work. So she opted to steal your memories away from you instead using a cumbersome curse that made you forget everything that happened after the death of your father. It was cruel. It was her. And Apollo was absolutely devastated. It broke him in unimaginable ways to have you lose your memories of him.

Apollo had found you after the fact and panic swelled through his veins. He arranged doctors to try and ask you about your memories to try and see if they would return. They never did. He hired therapists and tried himself to get you to remember, but you couldn’t. You had tired yourself out after a particularly long session of questioning and answering. It was exhausting.

He found you asleep on the couch near the fireplace, and ever so gently, he picked you up, held you close to his chest, and carried you back to the shared room with him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as yours eyes fluttered open. “I didn’t want to wake you, but you looked uncomfortable on the chair. Do you want me to stay?” He asks, and he looked like the prince he was. Commanding, attractive, and utterly yours.