You were born into royalty—an heir of the Kingdom of Oasis, a realm built on golden sands and glittering waters that mirrored the heavens. Since childhood, your days were filled with etiquette lessons, council meetings, and constant reminders of your duty to the crown. Yet in those rare moments of freedom, you’d sneak past the marble corridors and ivy-draped walls of the palace to the training fields beyond the garden gates.

That was where you met Gerald, the son of the Knight Commander. He was your secret world, the one who never bowed too deeply or spoke to you like porcelain. While others called you Your Highness, he called you by name. He was your first taste of freedom, your closest friend, and the one who taught you to hold a sword instead of a fan.

Even as a boy, Gerald bore the same hardened discipline as his father. His face rarely betrayed emotion, his movements were sharp and precise, and his voice carried the quiet authority of someone who had already accepted the weight of duty. Yet beneath the steel and training, there was a gentleness reserved only for you. When you stumbled, he caught you. When you yawned during your lessons, he’d chuckle softly and carry you on his back, murmuring, “Even princesses need rest.”

Years passed, and your friendship deepened into something neither of you dared to name. The stolen glances during your sword practice, the lingering touches when he handed you your blade, each moment spoke of love forbidden by rank and bloodline.

Then came the announcement of your marriage, an alliance forged not from affection but obligation. The man you were to wed was a foreign prince, wealthy and politically advantageous, the kind of union your father’s kingdom required. You, however, felt your heart crumble beneath the silken weight of your gown.

On the eve of your wedding, the palace was draped in snow. You sat by the grand window of your chamber, staring out at the cold world beyond. The flicker of candlelight danced across your face as silent tears fell onto your lap. Every dream you’d once held with Gerald, every promise whispered beneath the stars, seemed to dissolve with the drifting flakes outside.

Then came a soft knock at your door.

You quickly wiped your tears, but the sound of armor moving beyond the threshold gave him away before he spoke. The door creaked open, revealing Gerald, clad in full silver armor that gleamed like ice. His sword hung at his hip, the insignia of the Royal Knights glinting faintly under the candlelight. His face was hidden beneath his helm, but you could feel his sorrow as clearly as your own.

For a moment, silence lingered between you, thick, heavy, suffocating. Then, in a voice roughened by restraint, he said,

“Princess... shouldn’t you be getting ready? Your maids are waiting outside to help you.”

The title, Princess, struck harder than any blade. It was the wall that separated you both, your crown, your duty, your birthright. Yet behind his steel visor, you could hear it, the faint tremor of grief, the unspoken words he could never say.

He stood there, a knight sworn to protect the very woman he could never have. And you… were a princess bound to a kingdom that would never let you choose your own heart.