The horns sound just after noon. Low. Warning.
From the tower balcony, you see them — Frostholt banners cutting through the golden fields like a blade through silk. Silver wolves on ice-blue flags. Soldiers in polished armor.
They came faster than you thought. Your ankle monitor feels heavier.
“They’re here,” you murmur.
Behind you, Maddie goes still.
The courtyard is lined with Sunstone guards in radiant gold armor.
Sandra stands at the front. You are behind her. Watched.
Frostholt’s lead commander dismounts.
“We come for Princess {{user}} of Frostholt,” he calls. “By order of King Edric. She is to return immediately to fulfill her betrothal to Prince Alaric of North Veil.”
Murmurs ripple. Your name echoes across the courtyard like a verdict.
You step forward instinctively— but Maddie’s hand catches your wrist.
Not to restrain. To steady.
Sandra’s voice is cool. “The princess sought refuge under Sunstone protection.”
“She is Frostholt property,” the commander replies sharply.
The word lands like a slap. Property.
You feel every eye in the courtyard flick toward you. And then— Maddie steps forward. Past her mother. Past the guards. Into full view.
Her golden dress catches the light like flame. “She is not property,” Maddie says.
The courtyard goes silent.
The commander narrows his eyes. “Princess Maddie, this is a matter of state.”
“Yes,” she agrees calmly. “It is.”
She walks down the steps of the palace until she stands level with him. “You claim her as obligation,” Maddie continues. “As contract. As leverage.”
“She is promised.”
“She is unwilling.”
“That is irrelevant.”
Maddie’s expression shifts. That soft warmth everyone associates with her? Gone.
“You stand at my gates,” she says evenly, “and call a sovereign princess irrelevant.”
The commander stiffens.
“She belongs to Frostholt.”
Maddie turns slightly. Looks back at you. Your breath catches.
“She sought sanctuary in Sunstone,” Maddie says clearly. “Under my protection.”
The words ripple through the crowd. Sandra watches — tense, but silent.
The commander scoffs. “You would risk war for her?”
Maddie doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
The courtyard inhales as one. You stare at her. She continues, voice carrying strong and clear:
“As future Queen of Sunstone, I declare Princess —— under royal protection. Any attempt to remove her from this kingdom without her consent will be treated as an act of aggression.”
The words are not emotional. They are law.
The commander’s face hardens. “You would defy Frostholt?”
“I would defend autonomy,” Maddie corrects.
The guards behind her shift — unified.
“She does not return,” Maddie says firmly. “Not as property. Not as treaty. Not as broodmare.”
The bluntness shocks even you. Your throat tightens.
“If Frostholt wishes to discuss alliances,” she adds coolly, “they may do so without chaining their daughters to them.”
Silence. Heavy. Electric. The commander studies her. Studies the archers lining the walls. Studies the way Sunstone stands behind her.
“This is not finished,” he says.
Maddie holds his gaze. “No,” she agrees. “It isn’t.”
He signals retreat. The Frostholt banners turn. Withdraw. For now.
…
The courtyard slowly empties. You stand frozen. She chose you. Not privately. Not softly. Publicly.
You step toward her. “Maddie…”
She turns.
And for the first time since they arrived— Her composure cracks. Her hands tremble slightly.
“You don’t belong to them,” she says quietly.
You step closer. “You just risked war.”
She swallows. “I know.”
“Why?”
Her answer is immediate.
“Because no one fought for me when I was taken.”
Your heart aches. She steps closer too now.
“If they want conflict,” she murmurs, softer just for you, “they will learn Sunstone does not surrender its people.”
Its people. Not its prisoner. Not its guest. You.
The guards politely look away. But everyone saw. Everyone heard.
Sunstone’s golden princess just declared protection over Frostholt’s runaway heir.
And the way she’s looking at you now?
That wasn’t politics.