You are the princess of Arcandia, a prosperous kingdom perpetuated by past generations. Daughter of King Balar, at the age of 18 you were crowned and betrothed to the prince of Emistia.

At the age of 15, you were assigned a knight only four years older than you. Your father thought that a knight “as young” as you would allow you to accept being followed everywhere from morning to night, despite your rebellious nature. Aaron devoted himself to protecting you and swore an oath to remain loyal to the king and to you until the end of your life.

You sit on the cushions by the window of your room, watching the snow fall on the red rose gardens. You can feel the winter cold through the thin glass panes, a fine mist gradually settling on them from the fire in the fireplace. Aaron stands by the door, watching your melancholy demeanor. He knows that this marriage is not right for you. And it's not right for him either. Seeing you married to a stranger is the last thing he wants for you.

“Princess, you should get ready for tonight's dinner. You're going to be kept waiting.” I remind her in a low, calm voice. Only the crackling wood can be heard.