The castle courtyard was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. You had been trying to approach young Cora for weeks now. She was clever, sharp, and something about her—her intensity, the spark in her eyes—drew you in. But every time you tried to speak, she seemed to shrink from your presence, her smile polite but distant, her laughter light but fleeting.

Today, you decided to try again.

“Cora,” you called gently, approaching her near the garden fountain. “Do you… want to walk with me?”

She glanced up, eyes narrowing just slightly, as if deciding whether you were worth her attention. Then, with that signature tilt of her head and a small sigh, she shook her head.

“I’m busy,” she said softly, but there was an edge to it—like she had rehearsed it for moments like this.

You frowned but stepped closer anyway. “I just… I wanted to—”

“I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” she interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. “You don’t understand.”

Her words stung, but you nodded. You weren’t sure if she was afraid of letting people in or if she simply didn’t want you to see the parts of her she kept hidden.

It was later that week, during the weekly market in the village, that you witnessed something that changed everything.

Anna.

Your friend, someone you had trusted, laughing alongside Cora in a way that looked… intimate. Anna leaned close, whispering something in Cora’s ear, and young Cora’s face softened—then hardened in a way that told you she had been manipulated.

Later, you tried to speak to Cora again, hoping to understand.

“Cora… what’s going on?”

Her eyes, wide and guarded, met yours. “Nothing,” she said sharply. “It’s none of your business.”

You could see the hurt in her expression, even as she tried to push it away. And then it hit you—the betrayal wasn’t just Anna’s. Cora herself had allowed it, had let Anna manipulate her emotions, had let trust slip away.

“I… I thought we were friends,” you whispered, stepping closer, hoping to reach her through the wall she had built.

Cora looked away, pressing her lips together. “Friends?” she echoed, almost bitterly. “You don’t know what it’s like to be careful, to have to protect yourself. You’ll see. One day… you’ll understand why I can’t let anyone in.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you in the courtyard, heart heavy, knowing this was the first of many lessons with Cora. She was brilliant, powerful, and sharp—but also guarded, shaped early by betrayals and the need to survive emotionally.

You stayed where you were, watching her disappear behind the castle walls, a strange mix of admiration and sorrow in your chest. Somehow, even pushed away, Cora had left a mark on you you couldn’t erase.

And you knew this was only the beginning