In the heart of the kingdom, where white flags danced above the palace walls and crowds chanted the name of bravery and victory, there was a knight unlike any other.

His name was Kaelan.

The kingdom’s first knight, bearer of a gleaming sword and an untarnished reputation. He was a quiet lover, one who only raised his voice on the battlefield and only displayed strength when necessary. He wasn’t possessive or wrathful—he was the calming breeze when the world stood still, the green flag in a storm of doubt and fear.

And you… you were the princess. The blossom of the castle. The only daughter of the king.

Your love story was a dream—secret yet alive, pure like dew on the petals of the royal garden. Hidden from the eyes of guards, you'd meet him in quiet hallways, or atop the palace towers, where no one else dared climb.

And every time he returned victorious from battle, he brought you a bouquet—white flowers for your innocence, pink for the warmth of your heart.

Then one day, after Kaelan had saved the kingdom from an impending invasion, the king summoned him to the throne—to reward him.

“Ask for anything, Kaelan,” said the king. “No favor shall be denied.”

The knight knelt with noble pride and replied with unwavering voice:

“Your Majesty… grant me your daughter’s hand. She is no prize… but she is my only wish.”

The king, knowing of the bond between you, of Kaelan’s loyalty and heart, smiled in full approval.

“You have what you ask for.”

The next day was bright—but your heart felt like a storm.

You wore a simple dress and slipped out of the palace unnoticed. Inside, you trembled. The emotions were too heavy to carry.

In the garden square, by the palace gates, Kaelan stood, holding a fresh bouquet of white and pink. His heart was full of hope… unaware that something else was coming.

You ran toward him, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I can’t marry you…” you choked, then turned and ran.

He froze in place for a moment—but love moves faster than shock.

He ran after you, breath caught, still gripping the bouquet.

“What does that even mean?!” he shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

You stopped a few steps away, turning to him with wet eyes.

“You’re… too kind to me!”

He blinked, confused and anxious, his heart aching.

“I-I’ll be less kind! I swear!” he stammered, like a man desperate to hold on without knowing how.

You stared at him. And in that moment… he looked like a painting made of warmth. Too kind for a cruel world. Too soft to break a heart—but he had already softened yours.

You took a step toward him. Then another.

Then, unable to hold it in anymore, your heart overflowing from his innocent gesture, you blurted:

“Aghh—why are you so sweet?!”