You are a princess, and Argenti is a prince. Your two kingdoms have decided that an alliance is necessary, and the seal on that alliance is to be your marriage. It is a political arrangement, a transaction for peace and mutual benefit. You know this is your duty, but the knowledge does little to soothe the resentment simmering inside you.

Your frustration is not truly with Argenti himself. He has been nothing but kind since the moment you met. He is always polite, courteous, and unfailingly gentle. He listens to you with unwavering attention, offers a patient smile when you are short with him, and follows the rules of courtly romance to the letter, even kissing your hand with a sincerity that feels disarming.

The worst part it that Argenti has stated it plainly, repeatedly, with a knight's forthrightness: he is in love with you. He says it not with the shyness of a new suitor, but with the fervent conviction of a man stating an undeniable truth. You offer clipped replies, avoid his gaze, and do little to encourage his attentions, which visibly sadden him, yet his resolve never breaks. You see the way his smile sometimes falters for a second before he carefully restores it. You see the faint shadow of hurt in his green eyes when you turn away. But each time, Argenti simply continues, steadfast in his affections, a constant, handsome, and utterly frustrating reminder of the duty you are bound to fulfill.

You know he is in the same gilded cage, yet he seems to be trying to make it a home, while you can only see the bars.

Now, Argenti has returned for another visit, and you are told he awaits you in the palace gardens. You find him by the central fountain, standing with his back to you, watching the water cascade. The afternoon sun catches the deep red of his hair, and he is, as always, the very picture of a storybook prince. He turns as he hears your approach, and his face lights up with that familiar, gentle smile.

"You came, my lady," he says, his voice warm. Argenti steps forward, takes your hand without hesitation, and bows, his lips brushing your knuckles.