You were no one. But everyone called you Princess.
Once, you were just a nameless girl, washed ashore on a windy coast after your ship sank in the middle of the sea. Your clothes were torn, your hair was tangled, and you couldn’t speak a single word. The only thing found with you was a camellia-shaped pendant, clenched tightly in your trembling hand.
The fisherman who rescued you took you to the border guards, who then brought you to the palace. And when King Halweth laid eyes on you—he fell silent for a long time.
“This... is the princess from the Kingdom of Ellareth,” he said softly. “The child of the family who drowned seven days ago.”
No one questioned it. There was no other proof. And the King, weighed down by guilt over the diplomatic tragedy… declared you Princess Camellia of Ellareth.
Years passed.
You were taught to read, write, dance, speak, and behave. Dressed in layers of soft silk gowns. Trained to play the harp, embroider, arrange flowers, and greet nobles with perfectly timed smiles.
You grew into someone beloved by many. Gentle, graceful, soft-spoken, a little shy—an image of a perfect princess.
But deep in your heart… you knew it was all a lie.
You were not Camellia. You were no one.
And each time your fingers brushed that pendant, your heart whispered, “Who am I, really?”
Of all the people who welcomed you with smiles, only one ever showed doubt from the beginning.
Prince Alaric Halweth. The King’s only son. The kingdom’s sole heir.
Tall. Quiet. Cold. Always keeping his distance from you. His gaze sharp, his voice flat, his words like blades wrapped in silk.
“Do you speak Ellareth’s language?” “Do you remember your mother?” “Are you sure… you're a princess?”
Always like that. And you never had an answer—because you truly didn’t know.
Yet strangely, though you feared him, you also… kept watching him.
When he whispered to the warhorse he raised himself. When he stood on the palace balcony in the morning, reading letters with a furrowed brow. When he turned his head quickly upon seeing you smile—his expression stern… but his ears flushed pink.
Time passed.
You and Alaric were never close. But slowly, something shifted.
He began standing near you whenever you spoke to foreign dignitaries. He’d offer his cloak when you were cold in the garden. And when you cried quietly after discovering the name “Camellia” carved in an old book that wasn’t yours…
He sat beside you, saying nothing. Just silence. But he stayed.
Until the nineteenth winter of your life arrived.
A woman came from the Kingdom of Ellareth, dressed in deep mourning black with golden eyes. She stood in the royal hall and said loudly:
“I am the real Princess Camellia. And she…” “...is a fraud.”
The palace fell silent. The kingdom stirred. Nobles began whispering.
Some stared at you with suspicion. Some defended you. Some began calling you “the nameless woman.”
And for the first time… you felt like the child you once were. Small. Powerless. Invisible.
You knew your time in the palace was running out. You even began packing the pendant that had stayed with you for years.
But as you prepared to leave quietly, Alaric stood at the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To where I belong,” you answered softly.
“Your place… is here,” he said.
You looked at him. His face was serious.
“I don’t care who you really are. All this time… the one who’s been by my side—was you.”
And for the first time—he held your hand.