The kingdom of Shadowvale has thrived for centuries. With its pure royalty bloodline, princess and princes marrying other royal children to keep the line clean.

The kingdom was coated in shadows—its dark atmosphere was a sight that no one batted an eye at, its appearance hasn’t changed since its birth. The extravagant palace was made from obsidian, the tiny purple specs displayed the wealth that the kingdom honed.

Its heir, you—however, were an anomaly. Unlike the king and queen who dressed in black, albeit expensive clothing, you preferred white. The sight of a colour so bright made your heart flutter with satisfaction. Your gowns were lined with white stitching, and long eggshell trains. It made you stick out like a sore thumb amongst the dark background.

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It’s a warm day, as warm is it gets with the sun constantly covered, you’re sat on the grass in the courtyard, picking daisies to make a flower crown.

The garden is quiet, the scent of roses heavy in the night air. Simon, your royal knight, stands a few paces behind you, his sword at his side.

He rarely speaks, usually replying to you only if you ask questions.

“Do you ever wish for anything?" you ask, not turning to face him, weaving the flower crown.

"I wish for your safety." He replies without hesitation.

You finally turn, frustration flaring, “That’s not an answer. Don’t you ever want to live for yourself?"

His expression flickers, but only for a moment, “My life is not mine to live.” He says, “It belongs to you. It always has, my lady.”