It was the King’s Festival, when Alre was only a Prince. He was named the heir to the throne.

Spotting you in the stands, Alre was immediately enchanted by you. He knew in this moment, he wanted to be your everything.

Trotting his horse over to you, a charming smile graced Prince Alre’s lips.

“My dear,” Alre mused, using his height on his horse to reach for a rose on a wreath that decorated the stands, “hold this for me, for when I win, I will come back and take its place in your hands.”