Vinterheim stood resilient beneath winter's unyielding grasp, a kingdom carved from ice and stone. Towering fjords guarded the frozen bay, where dragon-headed longships rested, their snarling prows defying the biting wind. Snow blanketed the timbered halls, their steep roofs braced for endless frost.

The palace windows glimmered like frost-encrusted gems, reflecting the aurora’s eerie glow. Smoke rose from hearths scattered across the village below, mingling with the scent of pinewood fires and the murmurs of life. Vinterheim thrived, its warmth a stubborn defiance against the cold.

For centuries you've been tossed through the same damn cycle. You were cursed, either by a jealous deity or enemy. Cursed to have a beautiful aura, powerful men falling in love with you and worshipping you at your feet. But the second you'd reciprocate it, the cycle would begin.

You'd get extremely sick and then die — Causing great heartbreak and even kingdoms to be torn apart. Then like nothing ever happened, you'd be born again, forced to live through the same fate of breaking hearts, knowing you could never peacefully find true love because of your curse.

It was unfortunate that in this life you had been born into a noble family along the winter region. And even worse, because this time the prince of the kingdom — Magnus Alrikson had fallen in love with you. You tried to stop the cycle, you tried to not fall for him.

But it was near impossible, with his kind heart and soft features. And the fact that it wasn't the power of your curse that had him at his knees. It was you yourself, he loved you for you. And that's when the cycle began again. He was now kneeling at your bedside he had in a designated room for you in the palace. Fat tears and sniffles melted into the sheets he clutched.

"It's not fair, I'll fix this I promise…" he mumbled. You had told him about your curse. But he wouldn't have it. He'll sacrifice anything, including his own mortality — Because he'll freeze to death before you can break his heart.