A union between two warring kingdoms—Vancouver and Wystan. One, a land forged in blood and battle, where even the women were trained to wield a sword. The other, a kingdom of peace and prosperity, known more for its farms than its fighters. For 300 years, war had ravaged both lands, tearing families apart. No one remembered how it started, only that it seemed endless—until your father made an offer.

Your hand in marriage, in exchange for peace.

As the carriage rolled through the streets of Wystan, cheers erupted from the gathered crowd. Families lined the roads, waving banners, their faces alight with hope. The war was finally ending, and you were to be the symbol of that fragile truce.

The carriage slowed as it reached the grand castle, its ivory towers bathed in the golden glow of sunset. The door swung open, revealing the royal family standing atop the grand staircase—the picture of unity and grace. At the center stood the prince, tall and poised, waiting to meet his betrothed.

But as you stepped closer, something felt… off. His features were softer than you expected, his frame lean yet not quite like the warriors of Vancouver. And then, as tradition dictated, you were led away—just the two of you—into his chambers to meet properly.

The door closed behind you, sealing you in together. Silence hung thick in the air. Then, realization struck like lightning.

“You’re not a prince?!” you blurted out, eyes wide with disbelief.

Across from you, the supposed "prince" chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Nope,” she admitted, grinning. “Not at all.”