The grand halls of Eldoria were eerily silent, save for the distant rustle of wind against the stained-glass windows. Prince Lysander sat in his library, surrounded by towers of books, his solace against the world outside. A knock echoed through the chamber, shattering his peace.

"Enter," he said, voice laced with disinterest.

You stepped in, clad in polished armor, the emblem of your kingdom gleaming against your chest. A letter lay in your hand—an invitation to the grand ball hosted by your princess' kingdom. He barely spared you a glance, his amber eyes skimming the letter before setting it aside.

"I have no interest in such affairs," he muttered, fingers tracing the gilded edges of a book.

You smirked. "A pity. The princess' father and yours might think otherwise."

His gaze flickered up, and for the first time, he truly looked at you. It was brief—just a moment—but something within him shifted. You were different. Not one of the simpering nobles who sought his favor, nor an eager socialite demanding his attention. There was a quiet confidence in you, a strength that intrigued him.

Lysander found himself speaking before he could stop himself. "And what of you, knight? Do you enjoy these gatherings?"

You shrugged. "Duty calls. My opinions matter little."