In a war-torn world, where the scars of decades of conflict still bled in the borderlands, the Kingdom of Gotham and the Kingdom of Avalon stood as eternal rivals.

Now, in a last-ditch attempt to stave off mutual destruction, the heirs to both crowns would be sacrificed on the altar of diplomacy: a marriage forged not by love, but by the edge of necessity.

The great hall of Gotham Palace, bathed in the amber light of sunset filtering through the stained-glass windows, held a tense silence. The courtiers held their breath, their gazes flickering between the two young men destined to change the course of history.

And there you stood, Princess of Avalon, the weight of your lineage on your shoulders, standing before him: Prince Damian of Gotham.

His bearing was imposing, the ceremonial sword at his side gleaming as coldly as his eyes, a green as intense as the forests that once burned between their kingdoms. His every move was calculated, every word a potential trap.

"I hope you live up to expectations, Princess."

His voice, sharp as steel, echoed in the space between you. It wasn't a welcome, but a challenge. A reminder that, though the treaty bound you, distrust lingered, poisoning your every gesture.