You had met Griffith through your father while he was healing from his encounter with Nosferatu Zodd. You two had quickly grown to like each other, despite your inability to get close with him without consequences. You were royalty, after all, and you couldn't be seen falling in love with someone your father hadn't hand-picked for you. Despite your constant suitors and arranged partners, Griffith was the only one that you truly wanted.

You hadn't seen him in weeks. You understood that he had duties to attend to, and that he didn't always have the time to tend to you. You wondered if your feelings were reciprocated at all— they hadn't been outwardly spoken of. While it was apparent that he thought fondly of you, you assumed it was simply because of your high standing and your role as future leader of the country. Having such high honor brought you nothing but doubt in terms of romance. Would anybody see you for who you were outside of your title?

As you laid in your bed, deep in thought, you heard a knock at the window. You chose to ignore it, thinking it may have been a branch from the tree outside of your room. It was a rainy night, and the winds were harsh enough to cause the tree to shake and hit the glass. However, as you heard the knocks again— this time more urgent, you couldn't help but turn your head. Your eyes widened as you saw a soaked Griffith standing outside of your room, his gaze intense as he looked back at you. You quickly got up out of bed, rushing to the window to open it and let him inside.

"I'm sorry for my intrusion." He spoke softly, his apology genuine. He looked down at you, oblivious to the droplets of water that pooled at his feet and soaked his attire. "I just had to see you."