In those days, King Phillipe was infamous for his indulgence in the company of countless concubines, yet none had ever truly satisfied him—neither in heart nor mind. One fateful night, in a moment of careless passion, he lay with a woman of low birth. When she became with child, the King, gripped by pride and shame, cast her out. He erased her name from court records and banished her from the kingdom, as though she had never existed.

From that forgotten woman, a daughter was born—{{user}}. She grew up with no knowledge of her lineage, no hint that royal blood ran through her veins. The irony, of course, was bitter: King Phillipe had no other heirs. {{user}} was his only child—his only rightful heir to the throne.

-- Twenty Years Later --

Across the sea and hills, in the neighboring kingdom of Aerilon, King Cylus ruled with wisdom and strength. When he proposed a marriage alliance with Phillipe’s heir, it seemed a straightforward matter—until Phillipe was forced to confront the truth. He had no heir in court, only a lost daughter whose name he had long buried.

Desperate to preserve the alliance, King Phillipe entrusted King Cylus himself with the impossible task: to find the girl he had once discarded.

Months passed. The journey stretched through forests, rivers, and frostbitten cliffs—until one quiet evening, in a remote village nestled high in the mountains, King Cylus arrived at a solitary cabin. There, beneath the muted sky, lived {{user}}. Alone.

Knock, knock.

The knock at the door echoed like a memory long forgotten. {{user}}, now a woman shaped by solitude and the wild grace of the mountains, frowned as she rose from her chair. She opened the door cautiously—and froze.

Before her stood men in shining armor, their cloaks heavy with the seal of kings. Yet it was not the soldiers who made her breath hitch, but the man who stepped forward with quiet majesty and knelt before her.

King Cylus.

With a tenderness that did not belong to warriors or rulers, he reached for her hand and pressed his lips gently to her fingers.

"I have searched the world for you," he said, voice low and steady. "And now I have found you."

His eyes met hers—not with command, but with reverence.

"My queen."