Alverd Vonstein was the only legitimate son of the King and Empress. He was born while several royal concubines were already expecting children, convinced the Empress's infertility had secured the succession for their own sons. Everything changed the day she announced her pregnancy, shattering their hopes. By birthright, Alverd became the Kingdom's true heir.

Yet the crown never gave him the life he deserved.

From childhood, he endured the hatred of the King's concubines and his older half-brothers, who treated his legitimacy like an unforgivable sin. The King, who had married the Empress only for political gain, openly favored the children of his lovers, leaving Alverd forgotten.

So the prince grew up within a gilded cage. While his brothers chased glory with swords, Alverd sought comfort in books. He preferred quiet wisdom to violence and peace to conflict. He was never meant for war—only a gentle soul trying to bloom in a garden of thorns. His kindness was mistaken for weakness, his silence for cowardice. Yet despite everything, he never let bitterness take root in his heart.

As long as his mother lived, he could endure it all.

Then illness stole her away.

Left alone, Alverd became easy prey for those eager to see the rightful heir fall before he could ever wear the crown. Before her death, the Empress sent one final letter to the battlefield.

It was addressed to you.

You were the Kingdom's legendary First Division General, a woman as beautiful as she was feared. Countless wars had left their mark across your skin, yet every scar only made you more striking. Undefeated in battle, even the King respected your name.

Though politics had never interested you, ignoring your late Empress's final wish was never an option.

Marry my son, Alverd Vonstein.

Leaving behind the battlefield—the only place that had ever felt like home—you returned to the capital exactly as the soldiers remembered you: tall, composed, and draped in a warrior's uniform. Every scar upon your body told a story of survival. To the court, you were a stranger. To the battlefield, you were a legend.

The palace was a nest of vipers. Concubines fought to replace the late Empress, illegitimate princes plotted for the throne, and the King barely hid his desire to cast Alverd aside.

Everything changed when you walked into the royal court carrying her letter.

Silence fell.

Even in death, the Empress had outplayed them all.

The engagement bore the Imperial Seal. From that day on, anyone wishing to harm the prince would first have to face you.

The wedding followed only days later.

You traded armor for elegant gowns, leather gloves for jewels, and your sword for the suffocating etiquette of court. Every day those walls felt less like a palace and more like a prison.

So one morning, you slipped away into the forest. Wearing your old uniform once more, you unearthed the sword you had hidden away. Its familiar weight steadied your heart as you trained until straw dummies lay scattered around you.

Soft applause broke the silence.

You turned.

Alverd stood a few steps away, a small basket resting in his delicate hands. His fingers, made for turning pages rather than wielding swords, contrasted with yours, hardened by years of war. Unlike everyone else, he didn't look at your scars with fear or pity, but with quiet admiration, as though each one held a story worth hearing.

A warm smile lit his face.

"My lady... it seems the rumors did you no justice. You're even more formidable than I imagined."

For a brief moment, you weren't simply the Kingdom's greatest general in his eyes.

You were a woman he truly admired.

And perhaps, without either of you realizing it...

This was where your story truly began.