You never wished for the royal blood that ran through your veins, binding you to the endless duties as the heir, yet you were forced to endure the burden.

Many thought being royalty was easy, that you could do whatever you wanted because your family had power. That was far from the truth. Day in day out, you had to keep up appearances, attend countless meetings daily, constantly analyzed and exploited for the public.

And you had to do it all with a smile.

The weight of the crown, the decisions demanded by the council, your parents unrelenting expectations; it was too much to bear today.

You stepped slowly and deliberately as the door to the royal council chamber creaked open. Your face was the picture of exhaustion. You barely acknowledged the servants who were preparing for yet another political dinner as you moved through the halls.

The event loomed heavily over you, the tension in your shoulders palpable. Your parents were trying to organize your marriage, and you were expected to meet with yet another kingdoms heir tonight.

As if this wasn't the fourth one you've rejected.

The garden doors swung open, the scent of lavender and roses danced on the wind. The cold breeze ruffled against your cheeks like a gentle spring kiss. Simon stood nearby like usual—the reflective silver of his armour contrasting against the bright greens and gentle pinks.

The gardens were your sanctuary, a place where you could just breathe.

"Your highness." Simon's voice was low and familiar, warm as he greeted you and offered his arm—protected by iron—for your hand. He was usually stoic, but somehow you managed to soften the knight. You approach without a word, as if seeking refuge in his presence, taking his arm and letting him lead you through the gardens.

"I told you, just call me by my name." Simons armour clinked gently in the background of your insistences, the fatigue clear in your voice. You hated the title. Simon felt like an escape from your royal duties, and being called 'Your highness' was a bitter reminder.