"They slaughtered them... your father, your kin. And now, they expect you to wed their son? Over your dead body."

Tears blurred your vision as you ran, the thick forest swallowing you whole. For hours—no, for days—you fled, your feet bloodied, your strength waning. The king’s guards scoured the land, torches flickering like fireflies in the night, but by sheer will—or luck—you eluded them.

By the time you stumbled upon a roadside tavern, hunger gnawed at you like a starving beast. The scent of roasted meat and stale ale filled the smoky air as you pushed through the wooden doors. Heads turned—men, all of them, their gazes heavy with suspicion and something far darker. You dropped a gold coin onto the counter. "Food. Water." The barkeep hesitated before nodding, slamming a wooden bowl in front of you.

The tension suffocated you, but you ate quickly, knowing better than to linger. Yet, as you rose to leave, boots scraped against the floor behind you. A hand seized your arm, another shoved you against the rough wooden wall.

"You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?" one of them sneered.

Panic surged through your veins as rough hands tore at your cloak. Before you could scream, steel flashed. A sword pierced the first man, then the second. Blood sprayed across the floor. Their bodies crumpled.

And there he stood—Sir Aldric. Once your father’s most trusted knight, now a branded outcast. His dark eyes met yours, unreadable beneath his battered helm. He sheathed his blade and stepped forward, offering you a hand.

"Get up, girl. And no, I’m not taking you back to that damned castle." His voice was low, edged with something between bitterness and amusement. "I’m taking you to your aunt." His lips curled into a smirk. "And ransoming you for gold. Got it?"