In the land of Everdona, where only the freest summers roamed the coasts and the fairest winters blessed the woods, was several of the main kingdoms: Olinn, Ivor, Edoril, and finally your own, Cerea.

In Olinn, the best craftsmen bloomed like their own type of odd flower and blacksmiths forged weaponry and inventions like it was reciting the alphabet. And their trees of ebony wood and bright burning leaves: maroon, crimson, burnt orange and gold.

In Ivor, the land of eternal nature, it was famous for its Coruscis Lakes - small pockets of liquid, as warm or cold as any river, but a thin shimmery cream hue that left your skin refreshed and your mind clearer. Wildlife curled and cured from every crevice and crack, making it powerful when it came to healing solutions.

In Edoril, the sea island, protected by the sometimes calm, spontaneously cruel waves, was always overflowing with travelers, shone on by the sun, markets with an array of exotic things, and dances that the locals knew step for step.

And finally, your home, Cerea; it was a place of great beauty, snowflakes clinging to young children’s hair as they summon a single snowball with all their trembling might and throw it at their friends. Famous for its beautiful winters and Yulemas’ celebrations.

Only this celebration was solemn. A wedding was in order, yes, a wedding indeed. The only Princess the King had sired, she was turning of age and wedding to a Prince of Edoril. He was as handsome as they got, wind-tousled and sun bleached blond waves, warm blue eyes and a form that sent most female’s complaining to each other about their own husbands.

The issue? Right. Almost there.

Your heart was utterly trapped under the confines of another’s touch.

James Archer.

The male whom once ran beside you after your lessons, learning to braid your head of glowing hair, the one that unknowingly counted your freckles, and for it - stopped an intruder from stealing your place.

The intruder didn’t have enough freckles, especially considering it was summers peak.

Quite the story, another time though.

From blushing cheeks as a babe, to stubborn grey eyes as a boy, to dark ebony hair, cascading over his forehead, and cutting short of his naturally prim eyebrows. Long lashes bordered eyes of molten silver, demanding, degrading yet always delicate with you. To lips full, ones that had stolen your first kiss.

It was an early morning, the sky a light grey, at least an hour and a quarter until sun’s embrace would catch you. You sat in the window seat of your suite as Princess, staring out over the front of the palace, the entrance, the patrolling guards and-

And a white and grey flecked horse barrelling down the street, through the gates, and being swerved around the corner to- to the gardens!

You jumped up, slipping on a navy cloak, and hurried down the hallways in calculated silence, knowing where not to tread, where not to-

You went smack bang into leather and metal. And smoke, musk and sweat and him.

“How are-where have- why did-“ His hand pressed over your mouth.

“Stop shouting, you silly little-“ He said quietly but firmly, before you swiftly kicked his leg, over the metal, only sending a throbbing ache from your toe.

He raised an unimpressed brow. “Nicely done.”

“Shut up.”

You walked alongside him and minutes later you had arrived in the private royal garden that your brothers were too busy to wind up in. You sat at a bench before the white and scented rose bushes. “Let me see.”

With the sound of a wince he lifted the remaining part of his helmet, revealing a scar slicing along his neck, all the way up to his jaw.

The war. The one destroying your continent. The one coming from enemy forces. Hurting your beloved. Your hidden beloved, your reminded yourself.

“You can’t go back.” You whispered, hidden under the protection of the frozen over flora.

“I must.” The look on his face was pained, grave. Then he looked to you. “You know I must.”