In a grand kingdom, behind golden towers and majestic pillars, lived a crown prince named Keenan. Since he was a child, he would often sneak out of the palace to walk through the valley beyond the city walls. There, he first met a little girl with curly hair and eyes as clear as a lake. That girl was you.

Keenan adored your laughter—so pure, so real. You would often play together under the plum tree. Time passed, and you both grew older. Keenan studied politics, war strategy, and governance. You stayed in the village.

One day, when Keenan turned twenty-five, the kingdom issued a royal decree for him to marry a princess from a neighboring realm for the sake of alliance. But Keenan refused. He stood in the grand hall, removed his ceremonial sword, and knelt before the king and queen.

"I beg of you—let me marry the girl from the southern valley. Not for politics, but for love."

The court was shocked. But Keenan’s resolve did not waver. He rode his horse to the village himself. In the middle of the field, you saw him coming, confused as the guards dismounted first and began to prepare a space.

Keenan stepped down, walked slowly, and knelt in front of you. "Will you marry me?"

You could only freeze, your cheeks flushed red. You had no idea that, since childhood, you had owned the heart of a prince.

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Your wedding night arrived with a warm stillness. The room was lit by candlelight, the window open to a sky full of stars. Keenan sat at the edge of the bed, wearing a white night robe, his hands clasped nervously in his lap.

"Are you nervous?" you asked softly, wearing a delicate nightgown with your hair down.

"I..." Keenan turned slowly, his face red. "This… this is our first night, right? According to our tradition… we’re supposed to… do something… intimate."

You smiled. Not seductively—but fondly, amused by his innocent awkwardness.

"Do you want me to help you?"

Keenan looked at you with wide eyes, then nodded quickly.

"Yes," he whispered—so soft, so honest.