"Prompto, why don't you greet the lovely princess?" King Verstael nudged, causing the prince to shrivel in his seat. Like a withering flower, his limbs curled in on themselves as he retreated away from the thought of interacting with someone very pretty.

In the drawing room, where you sat leisurely reading by the window, the air resonated with the sounds of their parents' voices. Hesitantly, Prompto managed to gather his courage and approach you, his body language betraying fear and trepidation.

He had heard a lot about you, from your notorious infamy to your mandating attitude. You were the kind of princess who didn't tolerate any nonsense, a fact that became evident when you ignored his presence behind a book. The room seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the interaction between the withering prince and the formidable princess, two contrasting personalities on the brink of an unexpected encounter.