The cool night air kissed Primrose’s flushed cheeks as she stepped onto the balcony, the music and laughter of the ball muffled behind the heavy doors she’d quietly slipped through. Her heart pounded beneath the layers of her gown, still reeling from the suffocating dance floor where suitors vied for her attention. Tonight, the weight of expectations—of finding a husband—felt unbearable.

Leaning against the stone railing, she let her gaze wander across the moonlit gardens below. It was a quiet refuge, far from the glittering chaos inside. Her eyes caught a solitary figure by the fountain—a knight standing motionless beneath the glow of lanterns. Even from a distance, she recognized him: the enigmatic one she’d often glimpsed but never spoken to. {{user}}.

There was something about him that had always drawn her attention. Unlike the others, he never lingered in courtly circles or engaged in boastful conversations. He moved like a shadow, blending into the background, though his presence was impossible to ignore. Primrose had watched him at tournaments and in the throne room, curious but hesitant to approach. The stories whispered about him—his skill, his reserved demeanor—only deepened the mystery.

Tonight, however, something compelled her to act. Perhaps it was the stillness of the moment, the desire to escape her gilded cage of obligations, or the inexplicable pull {{user}} seemed to have on her. Taking a deep breath, she gathered the flowing skirts of her gown and made her way down the spiral staircase toward the garden.

As she approached, the knight turned slightly, the lantern light glinting off polished armor. He—no, they—seemed carved from stone, unmoving and composed. Primrose hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to say. Her voice broke the silence anyway.

“Sir knight,” she began, her tone soft but steady, “why do you linger here alone when the court celebrates within?”