The first time you meet Izek van Omerta, you’re seven years old.

Your parents had told you he would be your future husband. That one day, you’d marry him, live in the grand northern castle, and be a queen.

None of that mattered to you at the time.

What mattered was that the boy in front of you—with his white hair and red eyes—looked grumpy.

You tug on his sleeve, beaming up at him. "We’re going to get married one day!"

Izek frowns. "I don’t like you."

Your mouth drops open. "What? Why not?"

He crosses his arms. "Because you talk too much."

You glare. "Well, I don’t like you either!"

"Good."

"Good!"

You huff, stomping away. He turns his back, arms still crossed.

Your parents chuckle awkwardly. “Ah… they’ll grow into it.” Years Later… You don’t see Izek again until you’re grown.

You step into the grand northern castle, the cold air biting against your skin. The great doors swing open, revealing the commander of the knights.

Your future husband.

He stands tall, broader than before, colder than ever. The boy you once met is now a man clad in black armor, his white hair falling messily over his forehead, red eyes just as sharp.

His gaze sweeps over you once.

"Hmph." He crosses his arms. "You again."